Tag Archives: early night

Wednesday 3rd June 2026 – BRAIN OF BRITAIN …

… strikes again.

For tonight’s tea, I was going to make one of my famous bulghour/quinoa and kidney bean mixes. And there I was, stirring it all, thinking to myself “this doesn’t look as much as it usually does”, and when I came to serve it up, I suddenly realised that I’d forgotten the kidney beans.

You can’t make it up, can you?

You can’t make last night up either. I fell asleep I don’t know how many times while I was trying to write up my notes, and you should have seen the gibberish that I ended up typing last night. In the end, I gave it up as a bad job, wrote a terse note on the blog and went to bed. My friend told me later that when he went past at 22:30, I was already in bed and asleep.

At one point, I awoke, just as it was starting to become light, but I must have gone back to sleep quite quickly. I awoke again a little later, and when I looked at the time after a few minutes, it was 06:28. I hardly had time to react to that when the alarm went off.

When the second alarm went off, I was already sitting on the edge of the bed half-dressed, and when I’d finished, what with no sign of life coming from next door, I attacked the dictaphone notes.

Not that I needed to have bothered, because there was nothing there. It had obviously been a very deep sleep. My friend confirmed this later when he asked me "did you hear the storm last night?"

So with no dictaphone notes, I had plenty of other things to do. This continued until I heard the rattle of cups in the kitchen, so I went to join them. The coffee hadn’t quite begun, so it gave me a few minutes to sort out the morning’s medication.

When the nurse came, the Hound of the Baskervilles had already dragged his master off for walkies, so I had his undivided attention today.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of RECENT EXCAVATIONS IN ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERIES by T C Lethbridge.

In grave n°12, he finds a bronze ring which he says is "an early Viking specimen, VII century or so."

Two things strike me about this comment. Almost all of the graves date from the sixth century, with some in the fifth century. If this grave really is "probably of VII century date" it must have been dug long after all the others.

The second is “what are we doing with “Viking” jewellery in the VII century?”. The Vikings didn’t arrive until 789 AD – the very end of the eighth century. And “Vikings” really means “raiders”, and there were many Norse people who were not Vikings and many Vikings who were not Norse. If that ring really did date from the VII century or so, it would have been brought by a Norse trader.

There was another woman buried with a whole load of Danish artefacts, but the sheer volume suggests that she might have been a Danish woman who had recently come over to England.

Another factor is that some graves were very shallow. There was one that was only fifteen inches under the soil. I checked with my artificial intelligence search engine, who referred me to a study of the area of the cemetery to suggest that in 1300 years, only 3.7 millimetres of soil would have accumulated. And so, fifteen inches is not very deep.

We had planned to go and clean out the vehicle outside, but the howling gale that was blowing outside was one with which I was unable to cope. I’d be blown over as I walked around, so we had to put it off.

There were plenty of other things to do instead. I have been told by AMAZON USA that having reached certain targets, thanks to you lot, I’m now entitled to call myself an “influencer” and have my own Amazon store.

And so, HERE IT IS in all its glory. It’s still under construction, and so far, I have A MEDIA STORE and A BOOKSTORE.

Both of those are still being added to with more products that I’ve bought from Amazon in the past, and in the future, there will be other departments displaying other things that I’ve bought. I shall be making quite a few lists too in order to help promote my site.

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

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

There was a stop for a disgusting drink and a stop to play with the Hound of the Baskervilles, whose master had gone off for a walk round to the restaurant at the Foyer des Jeunes Travailleurs. That helped to distract me for a while.

The postie came too and brought me a new toy, a 10-WATT PRACTICE AMPLIFIER WITH BUILT-IN BATTERY so the two of us had loads of fun with that and a couple of guitars.

Later on, the wind and rain died down, so we went outside to occupy ourselves with our task. We found tonnes of stuff that needs coming in, so we brought in a couple of loads, and we’ll do the rest tomorrow morning before dialysis.

While we were out there, we had attached the Hound of the Baskervilles to the lamppost at the back of the bus shelter, and sure enough, he met another one of his schoolgirlfriends on her way home on a scooter. She stopped to play with him for a while and then came for a quick chat with my friend. Honestly, the Hound of the Baskervilles has more luck with the women than we do.

Back in here, I had a rest for a while. Walking out there and back had worn me out again. Later on, though, I made tea. Boiled rice with carrots and broccoli with taco rolls with bulghour, quinoa, onions, tomatoes, mushrooms, garlic and spicy tomato sauce. As I said just now, I forgot the kidney beans, but it tasted nice all the same.

So now I’m off to bed for my beauty sleep, of which I need quite a lot. But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about lists … "well, one of us has" – ed … there was once the captain in charge of a flotilla of ships who asked one of his ships "has your ship got a list?"
The signalman on the other ship replied "No. We have to tell it what to do, item by item."

Monday 1st June 2026 – AFTER SEVERAL WEEKS …

… of lovely, pain-free feet, the pain in the sole of my right foot suddenly erupted again at dialysis and erupted in spades too. I’ve been in pain for most of the afternoon and evening, and I wish that it would go away.

What’s worse is that I really had thought that I’d finished with all of this, but “no”. It looks very much like “back to the drawing board, Cecil”.

Not like last night, though. I was late again going to bed. After midnight, and more, I reckon. But I didn’t need much rocking last night either and I was soon asleep.

And there I lay, dead to the World, until about … errr … 06:00 when I awoke. When the alarm should have gone off at 06:29, I was up and about at my desk working.

First thing to do was, of course, listen to the dictaphone to find out what had happened during the night.

We were back in Roman times again, and this time, it involved a girl whom I knew who was taken in somewhere where they took them because of her mental health issues. She’d been seeing demons and all of that kind of thing. She told her daughter that they needed to be placed somewhere to be looked after. This is one of these dreams again where I reached for the dictaphone and fell asleep again before I began to dictate it so I don’t know really what I’ve missed.

It’s a shame that I didn’t catch all of this dream, because this is another one of those dreams with a story behind it that the World is not yet ready to hear.

There was a group of four of us who used to hang around together. There was me, Laurence and a couple of other people. We’d all been told that we needed couselling. We went to see a counsellor who told us that we could attend a group meeting on such-and-such a date at such-and-such a time. We’d no idea at all what to expect but we made ourselves ready at the appropriate time for this counselling. However, one of our members dropped out and left an empty space so we decided to sign Roxanne up and see what she made of this so we added her name on the paper and we had to go back to the doctor’s for another interview and he interviewed Roxanne while we were there. He decided that she was fit enough to go so the four of us were ready, but Roxanne seemed to be quite enjoying it. So we turned up, and it was this village hall. It was huge, with probably 200 people there. But as the meeting started, my crucial role was diminished and diminished. So we sat there and we were listening to this guy on the stage talking, brining up his friends one by one to add to what he’d been saying but the hall was so noisy and there were kids running about so it never ever reached our ears. So sinking to our knees, we got into these bowls with our knees and tried to move forward but we couldn’t. One by one, he was inviting people down to give their witness. On one occasion, he said that this one is a judge now amongst everybody. Then he called out the Venerable Harry Dean. As this guy walked down towards the front, Roxanne looked at me and said “the vegetable Harry Dean?” and everyone around us burst into laughter.

This is just the kind of thing that I can imagine Roxanne doing. She would ask a question in a very innocent way but there would be a smile behind her lips that it wouldn’t surprise me if she knew exactly what was going on and had made the mistake deliberately.

The dream, though, reminds me of one of these revivalist meetings in the Deep South of the USA. I never actually managed to visit one, but I heard all about it.

There were a few other things that needed doing, such as checking my e-mails. And amongst them was the monthly report from the shipping group whose “Bay of Granville” shipping detector is installed in my apartment. The little set-up here is apparently covering an area of over two hundred and sixty-three square kilometres, which is not bad going for the equipment that I have.

When I heard movement from the kitchen, I went in there to see what was going on and ended up with a mug of hot coffee and my morning medication. And for some reason or other, we ended up having a lengthy discussion about computer passwords.

The Hound of the Baskervilles didn’t bark at all when he heard the doorbell with Isabelle the Nurse on the other end. Mind you, he did look up when he had a belly rub, as if to say “don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

After Isabelle left for her week’s break, I made breakfast. And while I was eating, I was also reading the last of NOTES ON SOME OF THE ANTIQUITIES OF FRANCE by Charles Roach Smith.

To finish off his book, he’s reading some Carolingian tombstones found in a cemetery in Amiens. That’s a long way from the Cher Valley, but never mind.

Back in here, I began to revise my Welsh for tomorrow, but my body had different ideas.

While I was sitting down at the computer this morning, I dozed off. I dreamt that I was in Crewe and someone had brought into town an articulated lorry with goods in it. When I arrived in West Street, the driver climbed into the passenger seat and I took it over. I drove down West Street and turned into Underwood Lane. We had to drop something off at a factory in Selworthy Drive so I had to drive past Selworthy Drive, he had to climb out and stop the traffic behind me and I had to reverse the lorry from Underwood Lane into Selworthy Drive and then straight back into the factory that was there so that they could unload it, and then the driver who had brought it into Crewe could then take over and carry on with the round that he was doing.

There are no factories in Selworthy Drive, nor have there ever been, nor will there ever be. But stopping the traffic for a reversing lorry is par for the course in industrial areas.

There was still time to do some work, so I pressed on but was overtaken by events when my cleaner arrived. She dealt with my anaesthetic and then tidied up a little before leaving. My friend and I hung around until about 12:55, when we went out into the sun to wait for the taxi.

The girl who picked me up is quite nice and chatty, so we talked all the way to the hospital, where we picked up someone else who wanted to go to Avranches, and our chat, which had now become a three-way chat, continued all the way to dialysis, where I was dropped off.

Today, I was in a different bed than usual, but that’s not a problem. This dialysis isn’t about “seeing all of Normandy in a taxi” or “seeing all of the dialysis centre from a different bed”.

As usual, I was the last to be plugged in, but they had a temporary nurse in from St Malo and he was quite efficient, aided by another nurse who applied a “manual garrote” and the freezing spray to numb the forearm.

There was a third nurse in there too and she’s quite chatty. She came over to see how I was doing, which was nice of her. She has a cousin who’s married to a Welsh guy so I’m secretly teaching her a bit of Welsh so that she can shock him when they meet.

During the dialysis, though, I began to feel nauseous and the head began to spin. The blood pressure seemed to be fine, so it must be me. And it certainly was when the pain in the foot started up. That was a flaming nuisance. I was in agony.

There was some kind of relief when Emilie the Cute Consultant came by. She didn’t stop, but she managed a cheerful “Bonjour, Monsieur Hall”. No-one else received such a greeting, so I considered myself honoured.

Last in, last out as usual but at least it was one of my favourite drivers who would be taking me home, and she was already waiting for me. We had another passenger with us who wanted to be dropped off at Sartilly. After that, we chatted all the way back home where, amongst my comité d’acceuil – “welcoming committee” – was the Hound of the Baskervilles.

My driver fell in love with him straight away and she spent ten minutes giving him a lot of fuss. And he enjoyed every minute of it too. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … why don’t some of these women treat me like that?

Back in the apartment, there was a lovely meal of beans, chips and a burger with a bap and also a pile of garnish. My chips were especially good so I asked my friend the secret. He tells me that he parboils them first for ten minutes, so I shall have to try that.

After I’d done the washing up, I came in here to write out my notes, but I was becoming more and more ill as the evening worsened, so in the end, I said “sod it”, abandoned the notes and went to bed. There’s always another time.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about passwords … "well, one of us has" – ed … I told my friend that I once knew a guy who went to use the name of … errr … a certain part of his body as a password.
My friend asked "what happened?"
"He received an error message" I replied. "Sorry, password not long enough."

Friday 15th May 2026 – WE ARE NOT …

… alone!!

Currently asleep on my comfortable sofa in the living room is my friend from Munich, and on the rug by his side is the Hound of the Baskervilles, both of them snoring away quite happily.

Yes, at lunchtime, I received a message – “arriving at about 16:00”. I thought to myself “blimmin’ ‘eck – I’d better get a move on!”.

It made me wish that I’d got a move on last night, really. As usual, after having no tea yet again, I came in here to type up my notes, and as usual, things seemed to take much longer than they ought to have done. However, it was about 21:50 when I finally managed to slide into bed.

During the night, I awoke once or twice, one of which was about 01:00 once more, although this time there was no hailstorm or anything going on that might have woken me. The second time, and I have no idea what time it was, I had to leave the bed to go and walk the parapet. However, quite luckily, I managed to fall asleep both times fairly rapidly.

When the alarm went off at 06:29, we had the usual struggle to my feet, which seemed to take hours, and then I went off to organise myself in the bathroom and then take my medication. The LeClerc order the other day had included some liquorice and mint tea, which, I’m told, will ease my throat somewhat, so I used that to wash down the pills and tablets. We’ll see if it works.

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

I was with a couple of friends last night. They were settling down in their new house and we were discussing cars. They had bought a brand new – one of these Chinese electric cars and they were astonished at all of the restrictions on it. It said that they couldn’t sell it in the Dordogne, all kinds of things like that. We supposed that it was due to something with people buying cars on finance and then disappearing. We ended up talking about cars in the auctions, about cars that had been dropped and been banged, etc. and were going at full price. They then mentioned a Ford Escort that had been some old woman’s car. It was a bit scabby and rough around the edges but it was otherwise in very good condition but no-one seemed to be interested in it. The husband then showed me a piece of paper about the insurance on his old FIAT, about all of the declarations that he had to sign when he came to sell it. This dream went on for ages but I can’t remember any more about it, except that this incident in the Dordogne, there was a clause in their insurance that said that although they can’t sell the car in the Dordogne, they could take it to this woman’s office at 16:00 and she would buy it from them.

When I had my taxis, I had both kinds of cars – former reps’ cars with high mileage and little old ladies’ cars with almost nothing on the clock. Surprisingly, the reps’ cars were so much better and worked a lot harder than the other, having been used to a hard life and plenty of work.

But if this Escort were merely scabby around the edges, it should have tidied up quite nicely, so I’m surprised that, even in the dream, no-one seemed to be interested in it.

But back in this dream the time was about 01:15 and it seemed that I had been awake ever since I’d gone to bed. I was walking around on a cold wood floor so in the end, I went to put on my socks. However, it was extremely complicated with them being these compression socks and I had to try three or four times before I was able to put them on.

Every now and again, I have to fit my own socks when I have an early start, and with them being these compression socks, it really is awkward. However, walking around on a cold wood floor in the bedroom feels really nice to me – it’s the cold tiles everywhere else in this apartment that annoys me. That’s the only thing that I don’t like about my apartment. I would really have liked to have had a wooden floor, but you can’t have everything.

One thing about this dream that I forgot was that when they went to insure the car, the girl couldn’t see the car listed in her manual, but when my friend’s wife looked, it was there, as clear as daylight.

It’s no surprise though. If you asked me to name the top five Chinese cars on the market these days, I wouldn’t have a clue.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual, and we talked about the Hound of the Baskervilles as she sorted out my legs and feet. I told her not to fight with my cleaner over him – they can take turns to stroke him.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT.

At long last, we’re getting down to the excavations at Reculver. However, not his excavations but excavations that took place earlier in the nineteenth century by other people. One day, soon I hope, we’ll start on his work and see what he found.

Back in here, I finished off the notes for the radio programme that I’d started yesterday, and then I had a huge surprise.

A few years ago … "2017 to be precise" – ed … I hired a boat and went UP LABRADOR’S NORTHERN COAST to what I consider to be the Furdustrandir or “Wonderstrand” … "or Wunderstrand" – ed … the magnificent stretch of white sand that the Norse explorers saw when they touched land after sailing from Greenland.

Also there are the scanty, rotting remains of North River, a settlement that was abandoned during the clearances of the 1950s when everyone from these isolated spots was removed to towns like Cartwright and a few others farther south. North River is famous, or infamous, because of a child’s grave in the cemetery. A Finnish anthropologist called Viano Tanner explored these settlements in 1937-39 and noted the grave of a child “killed by dogs”. Everyone disputed that this gravestone exists and claimed that no such event ever happened, so I wanted to see for myself. And it is there!

But while I was there, I photographed a few other gravestones.

Someone wrote to me in astonishment, saying that one of the graves was that of her grandfather, and what did I know about him. So I spent all morning researching all of the papers that I have on Labrador, and in the end, I sent her what I could find, which actually was quite a lot.

At that point, I decided that I’d better go and make bread, but my cleaner arrived to do her stuff, so I had to settle for a disgusting drink and my midday (hours late) medication.

Once she’d left, I began the process of making bread rolls and a loaf, but my friend and the Hound of the Baskervilles turned up while I had my hands full of dough.

It’s lovely to see him again. We first met on our first day at grammar school back in September 1965 and, like me, he’s a big music fan. When I was able to do so, I went down to Munich on many occasions to visit him, but these days, people have to come to see me here, and it’s nice when they do.

While I was making bread, we talked about old times and people whom we knew at school who are now pushing up the daisies somewhere, and once the bread was left to rise, I blanched some broccoli and made a broccoli stalk soup with pasta for tea.

To my surprise, I found myself eating some soup and bread – the first evening meal that I’ve had for months. However, my eyes were bigger than my stomach and I ended up being a miserable failure towards the end.

By the time that we’d finished and I’d washed up everything … "where did this energy come from?" – ed … it was after 23:00 so we decided that it was bedtime. And when was the last time that I was up and about at this time of night? Obviously, having people here is doing me good.

Anyway, I sorted myself out in the bathroom and then came in here to sleep. Crawling into my nice comfortable bed is really wonderful at any time. I threw the quilt over my head and that was that.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about snoring … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the time when I was driving for Shearings on a coach tour somewhere and one of the passengers, a youngish female, asked me "if I fall asleep and begin to snore, will you wake me up?"
"Certainly" I replied. "Shall I shake you, or give you a nudge?"

Thursday 14th May 2026 – THE BAD NEWS …

… is that they want me to go back to doing three days per week at dialysis.

Apparently, the … errr … sample that I took in the other day is almost pure water. There is not very much in the way of waste matter in it, so they are beginning to worry again.

The good news is that tomorrow, we’re expecting the arrival of The Hound of the Baskervilles. Both my cleaner and my nurse are in eager anticipation, so I can imagine that we might end up with a brawl at some point.

As for me, there isn’t very much in the way of good news. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … it’s been a long time since I’ve had any.

Last night went the typical way of all of the other nights just recently. I sit down fairly early to begin to write my notes, but then I seem to be sidetracked by this, that and the other and it takes an age to finish them. That was how it went last night, and by the time that I’d done everything else that needed doing and slid under the covers, it was round about 21:45.

Once again, it took a while to go off to sleep, and once again, I slept quite soundly until about 01:00 or so. Just as the previous night, there was a howling gale outside and that was what probably awoke me, but I managed to go back to sleep after a while, and there I lay until the alarm at 06:29.

For a change, I was fairly rapidly on my feet and headed into the bathroom for a wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon. I was early heading into the kitchen too, where, because it’s a dialysis day, I just had a mouthful of orange juice to wash down my medication.

Back in here, the first thing that I did was to listen to the dictaphone notes to find out if I’d been anywhere during the night.

I dreamed that I was working for some kind of organisation and dealing with towns and villages. I had to go to see some town somewhere that had been referred to our association. One thing that I noticed more than anything else was the total chaos on the roads – people drove any old how with no giving way, no stopping, no anything. So I decided that I’d start some kind of campaign to regularise the matter. I went back to my office and made a start, but my boss wasn’t happy with any of this and wanted a second kind of opinion. However, it was not possible to do that because there was no day that fell on a Sunday in the near future.

This is another dream that means very little to me, particularly near the end when it seems to degenerate into the surreal. I’d love to know what’s going on with this type of dream.

There was plenty of time to do a few other things before Isabelle the Nurse arrived. She told me that the noise that awoke me at 01:00 or thereabouts was a massive hailstorm. Apparently, a supermarket car park at St-Lô looked as if it had had a heavy snowfall during the night, according to the photos in the local press this morning, so she told me.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT.

Today, he’s been discussing a few other itineraries from the Roman or early mediaeval period, such as the Ravenna Cosmography and comparing them unfavourably with the work of “Richard of Cirencester”, which, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … has long-since been denounced as a fabrication.

Back in here, I don’t know what came over me but I sat down to write out the notes for the next radio programme, and by the time that my cleaner came to apply my anaesthetic, there was just one set of notes for one song that I hadn’t completed.

It’s been absolutely ages since I’ve worked this hard, and it shows that I must be feeling somewhat better these days.

After my cleaner left, I had to wait for the taxi to take me to dialysis. The driver was a few minutes late but as there was no-one else to pick up, I was still early arriving.

And my luck was in, too. I didn’t have long to wait before I was plugged in, and I settled down to what I was hoping would be a quick session so that I could be home early.

For the most part, everyone left me alone, except for Emilie the Cute Consultant. I don’t know why it is, but whenever there is bad news to tell me, they usually always wheel her out. There’s no doubt that somewhere in the hierarchy at Avranches, there is someone who is reading my notes.

Anyway, she told me the bad news, and that led to something of a discussion. What we have agreed, albeit temporarily, is that they will keep the two sessions but increase the number of hours that I have to stay for each one. They will review the situation after four weeks and “let me know”. I can’t say any more fairly than that.

After she left, there were about forty-five minutes of this session left, and as I was feeling rather tired, I decided to have a little sleep. However, it was to no avail. You can’t believe the amount of noise that goes on in that place when the sessions begin to wind down.

Eventually, the session came to an end, but I still had to wait fifteen minutes for someone to come to disconnect me and to compress where the needles had been. The compression takes about ten minutes, and that’s a long time when you are in a hurry.

Luckily, the taxi driver was waiting for me when I came out, so we were back here just before 19:00. And you won’t believe how light I was when I left – two kilogrammes below my “athletic weight”. I suppose that it’s no wonder that people are worried about me. Since I started dialysis in October 2024, I’ve lost twelve kilogrammes.

My cleaner was waiting for me and she helped me into the apartment. She also gave me a disgusting drink to drink, so she’s obviously worried about me too.

After she left, I came back in here to write up my notes, and now, when I’ve finished everything, I’m off to bed, ready for the Hound of the Baskervilles tomorrow. And so, with having visitors, my notes will probably be rather sporadic for the next while, but eventually they will all be here. You’ll need to have a little patience.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about a little patience … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the … errr … vertically-challenged old man in the queue at the hospital.
He was ranting and raving about being kept waiting for treatment for a minor injury whilst more serious cases were being pushed ahead in the queue.
Eventually, a nurse came over to see him. "Excuse me, sir" she said. "I understand that it’s difficult to wait, but you’ll just have to be a little patient."

Wednesday 13th May 2026 – AND THERE I …

… was again, thinking that last night was going to be the same as the previous two or three that I have had.

However, it wasn’t quite to be, but as the Duke of Wellington said after the battle of Waterloo, it was "the nearest run thing you ever saw in your life".

Actually, things started off that way. I began to write up the blog notes at about 19:30 but as usual, I was sidetracked much more than I would have liked to be, and by the time that I’d finished the notes and done everything else that I needed to do before going to bed, it was more like 21:30 when I finally slid under the covers.

As usual, it took a while to go off to sleep, and there I lay until all of 01:00.

It wasn’t a coughing fit that awoke me but a howling gale that had sprung up outside. It wasn’t ‘arf making a racket and anyone pushing up the daisies from underneath the surface of the churchyard up the road would not only have been awake but probably walking around.

Being wide awake, I took the opportunity to go for a ride on the porcelain horse and then came back here to climb into bed.

At the rate that things were going, I thought that the wind would keep me awake for the rest of the night. However, after about an hour or so, I must have gone back to sleep, which certainly makes a change just recently.

When the alarm went off, I struggled into an upright position and then had to wait for the room to stop spinning so that I could think about standing up. And once I’d summoned up the energy and the courage, I headed off into the bathroom to sort myself out.

In the kitchen, I had my energy drink and medication and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out what had gone on during the night. But to my dismay, there was nothing on it. What a disappointment! Still, never mind. It gave me an opportunity to catch up on a few other things.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual and we had a chat about the weather while she sorted out my legs. It’s sunny outside but cold, and the gale is still raging. I hope that it will be gone by Thursday when I have to go to dialysis.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT.

And I might have known! Back in the introduction he mentioned “my friend Thomas Wright” so I ought to have guessed what would come soon afterwards. Mind you, we have to wait until page sixteen for the first mention of “Richard of Cirencester”.

By the time we reach page eighteen, we have "it may be mantioned that the authority of Richard of Cirencester’s ‘De Situ Britannia’ has been questioned’ … Hatcher, in his preface to his translation, has ably combatted the objections brought against the original of the itinerary… But what no cavilling can set aside is his itinerary."

So there we go again.

Back in here, I had a few things to finish off and then I began to write the rest of the radio notes. There was however, a brief pause while I sent off my food order to LeClerc.

Once I’d finished, I went for a disgusting drink break and then came back in here, where I began to research the next programme.

Later on, I went into the kitchen to do some more tidying and throw away some more stuff that was lingering in the fridge. How I hate throwing away food, but as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … if I’m not eating it and it begins to grow legs, there’s really no other alternative.

The Leclerc order then turned up, and I managed to put everything away and to sort out and put away the delivery bags. But I’ve found, to my dismay, that I’ve forgotten to order the taco wraps and that is going to be a real inconvenience.

By now, I was totally exhausted and so I came in here to collapse into my chair for a while to recover. But I managed to find some energy from somewhere and all of the music for the next programme has now been selected, remixed and re-edited, paired and segued, and all that remains is to write the notes. I’ve no idea where that energy came from.

So right now, I’ll take my evening medication, finish off a few things and then climb into bed. I’ve had a better day today and I seem to be a little more energetic and enthusiastic. I hope that this improvement will continue.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the high winds … "well, one of us has" – ed …regular readers of this rubbish will recall that about eighteen months ago, we had gusts of wind touching two hundred kph.
Shortly afterwards, i met a guy whom I knew who told me that he had had enough and was moving.
"Where are you going?" I asked him.
"About ten miles inland to La Haye-Pesnel" he replied.
"Why there?" I asked.
"Because that’s where my house has gone."

Tuesday 12th May 2026 – OH NO! NOT ANOTHER …

… night like Sunday and Monday! It’s becoming far too much of a habit, this is.

So on Monday night, after I came back from dialysis, I came straight in here to write up my notes. Considering how much I didn’t write about yesterday, it took a lot longer than I expected to finish them.

And then, I had the stats and the backing-up to do, my evening medication to take (with a square of chocolate cake and a mouthful of orange juice), and then finally the bathroom to sort myself out for the night. It was about 21:30 when I slid under the covers and how grateful was I to be there?

Once I was asleep, I stayed asleep, but only for a while. At some point, I awoke, and try as I might, I could not go back to sleep. And so there I lay, watching everything tick over and over towards 06:29 and the alarm. I’ve no idea what time it was when I awoke because I didn’t look. And I didn’t care either.

When the alarm went off, it was another struggle to leave the bed and head for the bathroom, but eventually, I found myself in the kitchen with a high-energy drink and my medication. If the drink won’t kick-start my day, then nothing will.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone, and I was surprised that I’d actually had the time to go anywhere.

I was dreaming about reading a book. I can’t remember which book it was but it was one that the taxi driver from yesterday evening had lent me. I distinctly heard a voice ask “what page are you on?”. I distinctly remember replying “I can’t remember”, and I said it out loud too.

So here we are – one of the very rare dreams where I actually talk out loud in my sleep. These are very few and far between and I can’t even remember when the last time was.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up after her week’s break and told me all about her weekend hiking around Normandy with her little group. It actually made me quite jealous that I can no longer do things like this. When I think of all the miles that I’ve walked in the past …

After she left, I made breakfast and started a new book – THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT, also by Charles Roach Smith. I’m hoping that this book will be more interesting and more useful than the last one, but so far, he is just setting the scene.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then I had to revise for my Welsh lesson. The lesson itself passed OK, but we’ve now finished the course several weeks early. So what we have started to do is to revise the salient points of previous lessons and that’s going to be a challenge, especially for people like me with a Teflon brain.

Unfortunately, it looks as if our little group will be breaking up at the end of the year. We were shown a copy of the book for the final two years of our course and that has put the wind up several of our members. It is indeed complicated, there’s no doubt about that, but I’m going to push on and try it. However, I doubt that many of the others will join me.

That will be a shame because some of the people have been with me since the course started in 2020 and we’ve built up a really good rapport.

After the lesson ended, I prepared the bathroom and then went to tidy up in the kitchen. You have no idea just how much food I threw away just now. It’s shameful and embarrassing, but if it’s fresh food like potatoes and onions and I’m not able to eat it, there really isn’t any alternative once their shoots begin to sprout.

My cleaner turned up to do her stuff and she shooed me under the shower. So now, there’s a nice, clean boy … "well, clean anyway" – ed … in clean clothes, ready for a comfortable night in clean pyjamas.

We also sorted out a few things and tidied up a few more places, as rumour has it that we might be having a guest here at the weekend, so the place needs to be tidy.

After she left, I made myself a taco roll with salad and some of that vegan cream cheese. It makes a really, really nice mid-afternoon snack, but things might be improving a little because LeClerc has on offer some new vegan products this week, and I’ve also found a recipe for vegan mushroom pâté which I am determined to try.

Back in here, I relaxed for a short while, catching up on a couple of football matches that I missed, and then, eventually, I began work on the notes for the radio programme. I haven’t done half as much as I would have liked, so I shall have to get a move on and finish tomorrow morning and then make a start on the second one.

So now, having finished my notes, and having vomited violently on three occasions (and I’ve no idea why because I haven’t been coughing), I’m going to finish everything off and go to bed, hoping this time to actually sleep … "some hope" – ed …

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about vomiting … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of being on THE GOOD SHIP VE … errr … OCEAN ENDEAVOUR up in the High Arctic in 2019 when we were hit by a raging storm in the Lancaster Sound.
One guy was leaning over the rails, being extremely ill.
"The trouble with you," I said "is that you have a weak stomach."
"Rubbish!" he retorted. "I’m throwing up farther than anyone else on this boat."

Monday 11th May 2026 – GOD ALONE KNOWS …

… what happened at dialysis today, but by the time that they’d finished with me and I was ready to leave, I had a spinning head, a strange feeling in my stomach and I was feeling light on my feet. It’s not the volume of liquid that they have taken out of me, because I’ve had much more than this in the past, so I dunno.

It’s probably something related to the bad night that I had last night. I wasn’t in bed as early as I was hoping to be, which was a shame. By the time that I’d finished everything that needed finishing and crawled in underneath the covers, it was about 21:45 and, believe me, I was ready for bed.

As usual, it took an age to go off to sleep, but once I’d gone, I’d gone until all of when I needed to leave the bed to take a stroll down the corridor.

As I was passing the Fusebox on the wall, I checked the time. 01:34. That was a good night’s sleep, I have to say.

Back in here later, I crawled into bed but I just couldn’t go back to sleep again, and there I lay for almost five hours, tossing and turning, until the alarm went off at 06:29.

Eventually, I managed to summon up the courage to go into the bathroom for a wash and shave, and then in the kitchen, I washed my medication down with a mouthful of orange juice. After all, it’s dialysis day today.

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

There was something about having to massage a different leg than usual. This was more swollen, maybe, than the other one. But when I went to dialysis, they began to extract the water from that leg instead of out of my left arm.

That wasn’t much good, was it? I could do with more exciting dreams than that! But this idea of “a different leg” – how many legs do you think I have? I’m not Jake the Peg.

However, dreaming about dialysis is not just scraping the bottom of the barrel, it’s going through the barrel and into the mud underneath.

The nurse turned up today as usual and chatted about not very much. He’s off on his week’s break this evening so as he left, I wished him a nice break.

Once he’d gone, I could make my breakfast and finish off the last of REPORT ON EXCAVATIONS MADE UPON THE SITE OF THE ROMAN CASTRUM AT PEVENSEY by Charles Roach Smith.

To be quite honest, this book was something of a washout. Roach Smith spends just about three or four pages discussing the excavations, and the rest is comparing the site with other Roman sites elsewhere. As for the finds, there are about three pages of coins tucked away in the appendices. I hope that the next book is more enlightening and interesting.

Back in here, there were a few things that I needed to do, and then I had to check over the radio programme that I was sending off for broadcast this weekend. Afterwards, I made a start on my Welsh homework. There’s still another week before it needs to be in but I want to press on if I can.

As usual, my faithful cleaner turned up to put the anaesthetic on my arm, and then I had to wait for the taxi. And wait, and wait and wait.

The taxi was half an hour late coming for me, but it was my favourite driver so I didn’t mind too much. We had to go to Sartily to pick up another passenger, and so we were hours late arriving at dialysis.

It was in fact 14:45 when I was finally plugged in, and so that meant another really late night arriving home.

With the two bad nights that I’ve had, I was hoping to have a good sleep this afternoon to catch up, but it wasn’t to be. There was a constant stream of visitors this afternoon, and when there wasn’t, the machine was playing up so that brought the nurses running every five minutes.

On top of that, firstly, the doctor came to see me. I had to take a “sample” to him today, so he told me that they were going to analyse it to see whether it’s the dialysis that’s “causing these problems” for me (whatever “these problems” are) and if so, they’ll “do something to help solve the problem”. I don’t like the sound of that one minute.

And then we had the dietician. Apparently, she’d been talking to Emilie the Cute Consultant and they’ve found an intravenous drip that they think might work plugged into the dialysis machine. I don’t like the sound of that either, but at least it means that I shan’t have it stuck in a vein or something.

The way things are, I’m beginning to regret ever having said anything to anyone at dialysis.

Once again, I was the last to be unplugged, but luckily the driver was waiting to take me back home. And it was another one of my favourite drivers so we had a lovely talk all the way home, mainly about cancer and suicide, would you believe? She had quite a story to tell me.

My cleaner was waiting for me when we arrived. She helped me into the apartment and sorted me out.

After she left, I came in here to write up my notes, and now I’m off to bed. Now that the coughing seems to have calmed down, it’s really annoying that there’s something else now that seems to be keeping me awake.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about different legs … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of an incident at Balmoral Castle all those years ago when a serving wench, serving Prince Philip, suddenly burst out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
"What’s the matter, girl?" asked the Queen. "Are you feeling hysterical?"
"Och, no, ma’am. He’s feeling mine."

Sunday 10th May 2026 – WHAT A CHAOTIC …

… night that was! I’m still not sure of quite what happened, but I’ll try to piece it all together as I continue, and we’ll see what we can find.

Last night, having made something of an effort, I finished my notes and had them online by about 21:00. With everything else that I needed to do, it was not far short of 21:45 when I climbed into bed. It was rather later than I had hoped, but a nice lie-in was forecast for tomorrow.

So, well tucked in, deep beneath the quilt, I tried to fall asleep. And tried, and tried, and tried.

Instead of going to sleep, I just lay there, having what they call over here a nuit blanche, watching the clock go round and round and sifting through all kinds of various thoughts and memories of a misspent youth and dozens after dozens of opportunities missed.

At one point, I had to leave the bed to go to stroll the parapet. When I came back, I checked the time – 05:10 – so I surprised myself, and probably you too, by spending an hour or so dictating some radio notes from the outstanding pile.

In fact, I would have done much more, but as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … one of these new medicaments is giving me a very dry throat and after about an hour, I was croaking like a frog.

Back in bed, I actually managed to fall asleep, but not for long. I kept on waking up, wondering when the nurse would arrive. And when he finally did put in an appearance, I was fast asleep.

He didn’t stay long, but after he left, I was wide awake and couldn’t go back to sleep. Eventually, I hauled myself out of bed and went into the bathroom.

When I finally made it into the kitchen, it was just 09:33 and that will suit me fine for a Sunday. I made my porridge and strong coffee, warmed up two of my homemade croissants, which I had today with apricot jam, and read some more of REPORT ON EXCAVATIONS MADE UPON THE SITE OF THE ROMAN CASTRUM AT PEVENSEY by Charles Roach Smith.

His excavations are being hampered by many missing pieces, which he puts down to looting by the local population. He tells us that "when the Government of our country has no regard for its ancient monuments and will not protect them, the ignorant despoilers who pull down Roman walls and plough up Roman camps can no more be blamed than the covetous jobbers who conspire to destroy old buildings and churches to make new ones."

If you didn’t know that this was written 170 years ago, you would swear that he’s talking about HS2, where ancient cemeteries, listed buildings, thirteenth-century churches and prehistoric remains are being destroyed day by day for a failed vanity project that will reduce the time of travel from London to Birmingham by just ten minutes, ten minutes that will then be lost by walking to another mainline station to catch a connection onwards.

He’s also right about his assumption of the Iter Britanniarum. Thomas Wright, our previous author, used the absence of places such as Pevensey in the Iter to justify his faith in the (forged) works of Richard of Chichester. Roach Smith tells us, correctly as it subsequently turns out, "that most of these castra were not constructed until subsequent to the compilation of the Itinerary of Antonius … were clearly brought into the line with what became in later times the ‘Littus Saxonicum’ … there is every reason to infer that they were not at that time in being."

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone and, to my surprise, there was something on there, so I must have gone to sleep at some point.

I was discussing changes to the JD Cymru League again. One of the things that I suggested in respect of the playoffs was to abandon these abysmal penalty shootouts if the scores are equal after ninety minutes and the teams just play on and on and on until someone scores a goal.

These penalty shootouts really are abysmal and if I had the chance to be in charge, I would want teams to play on until someone scores. However, I would go farther and say that any player who had received a booking would be excluded from any time after ninety minutes;

A game between Stoke City and Uruguay would be interesting. Come extra time, there would be no-one on the field to play.

We were then at the JD Cymru League playoffs, at the final. There was one team that was having to have some kind of extreme treatment so that they could carry on playing in the final. I was there with this kind-of trophy. It was like two cermaic segments of a circle or something, bits of a bowl. They were arranged in a sort of cruciform pattern. I had to carry it out to the touchline, something that I was not happy to do because if I were to drop it, I was certain that it would break.

And couldn’t you just imagine me carrying a huge ceramic trophy onto a football field? How far towards the centre circle do you think that I would reach?

Back in here, we had a footfest. One Scottish play-off match after another. I think that there was only two that I missed. There were even some English ones too.

After a nice relax when I didn’t do much, I turned my attention to the radio programme that I started yesterday. All of the music has now been chosen, not without difficulty. It’s all reformatted, re-edited, remixed, paired and segued, and all that remains to do is to write the notes, which I shall start on Tuesday afternoon after my shower. Some of the notes are written already.

At 16:30, I knocked off to make the bread for next week and, even as we speak, it’s busy baking in the oven. When it’s finished, I’ll take it out to cool and then I’ll be getting ready for bed, early as it might be.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my voice croaking … "well, one of us has" – ed … a little boy went up to his grandma and said "granny, granny! Please make a noise like a frog!"
"Why, dear?"
"Because daddy said when you croak, we’ll get all your money!"

Saturday 9th May 2026 – I HAVE TO ADMIT …

… that I was feeling much better this morning. Not exactly sprightly, unfortunately, but much better than I was a few days ago.

What I put it down to is the course of antibiotics that I’ve been given. I know that one swallow doesn’t make a summer and two tablets out of the ten that I’ve been given don’t count for a lot, but I awoke several times during the night, and to my surprise, I wasn’t coughing.

Last night, I started to write out my notes quite early in an effort to have yet another early night, and it was just before 21:00 when they finally went online. There were a few other things that needed doing afterwards, including taking my evening medication, but it can’t have been much after 21:30 when I finally crawled into bed.

As I mentioned just now, it was a turbulent night when I awoke on three or four occasions. I’ve no idea what time because I didn’t look, but it was dark and the electric water heater was working.

The final time that I awoke, there was bright daylight streaming in around the edges of the shutters so I wondered if I’d overslept through the alarms. But when I checked, it was 06:25 – four minutes before the alarm was due to go off. The nights are getting shorter.

In theory, I could have put my feet on the floor and claimed an early start, but I couldn’t be bothered. Instead, I lay in the warmth under the covers and waited for it to go off.

It didn’t take quite so long to summon up the enthusiasm to go into the bathroom this morning, and then I went into the kitchen for my energy drink and medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And I was surprised at the distance that I seem to have covered.

I was somewhere in some kind of school or college. We were doing a kind of science fiction film and everything like that. There was a group of us, or we were divided into small groups or something, and we were wandering around in our group. One of the other groups came along and began to attack us with these weird science-fiction type machines. It became something of an aerial display or bombardment or something from these really rapid, powerful and fast machines flying overhead all the time, going mainly in one direction and then presumably turning around somewhere and coming back in the same direction and so on. It had us, well, not pinned down because it wasn’t aggressive, but it was a flying display of all kinds of these strange machines. We were trying to work out whether they were remote-controlled or whether there were people flying them or something, because there were far too many to be flown by this one small group. This went on for ages and ages with these plane-type things flying over our heads. Eventually, they all disappeared. We were somewhere along the track of an old disused railway. Once they had all gone, one of the people with us decided that he was feeling hungry and was going to eat something. He asked about the rest of us, so I replied that I’d just nip back to school for a moment and fetch some biscuits from my bag. I went back to school and there were kids everywhere. There were all kinds of equipment and so on relating to these science-fiction things. I went to my bag for some biscuits but there weren’t all that many. Someone gave me some kind of cable but I already had four or five different ones in my hand so I had to go back to my room to sort them out, to make sure that I had what I wanted, and the one that that other person had given me, I’d leave behind on the bed for later.

This must have been a fascinating dream. I can still see the flying machines even now, and they would have been too small to carry a person. They reminded me of the very primitive attempts at gliders or kites such as those built by the Frenchman Clément Ader, with bat-like wings, and they were yellow, red or green. But there were thousands of them.

I spent a lot of time last night roaming through the junior levels of the Welsh pyramid. There were two cases that came to mind – the first was a girl who had been administered a vitamin supplement twice – first by her former team and then by the team that she rejoined later. This was put down to a confusion of paperwork between the two clubs so no action was taken against anyone. The second was a similar kind of case between three small boys. This was ruled to be due to a change of personnel or something like that, and someone who had left hadn’t noted something in a file. There were no charges brought against any of the clubs for misbehaviour or anything like that. It was all due to negligence or carelessness or something.

Interested as I am in football in Cymru, I’ve no idea of anything at all about this dream. And the idea of three small boys is nothing special. Drug testing in football over there is routine these days, and the Football Association of Wales controls all football from under-11 upwards, and I’ve seen 9-year-olds playing in under-11 games in the past.

There was a girl at work with whom I’d been at school. Somehow, we found ourselves in the same supermarket after work. She bought one or two things and so did I, and I gave her a lift home in my van afterwards. Next day at work, we were working away quite happily but then, in the afternoon, I had to go somewhere to do something. I went down to my van and found half a baguette in there that I’d bought, another half-baguette and a loaf of bread that this girl had bought. I picked up the loaf of bread and thought that when I go back to the office, I’ll take it to her and give it to her. I set off on foot on this errand and began to walk down Welsh Row in Nantwich. I ended up walking miles, and it was all through streets and lanes around Nantwich. Then I was in Brussels, walking through Brussels. It seemed to take ages to do what I was trying to do, with walking all around these places. It was sunny, it was sweaty and I was walking up a pedestrian alley, but someone had tied a rope across it as if to close it so I just opened the rope and walked through. Some Dutch guy began to have an argument with me about moving the rope so I told him to clear off, but he didn’t and this argument carried on. In the end, I used a couple of really vulgar Flemish terms and it looked as if he was going to come over and fight with me, but instead, he just wandered away. I found myself in a park, and after walking through this park for five minutes, I realised that there was a huge drop over the wall and I wasn’t sure how I was going to find my way out. Suddenly, I came to an entry that I didn’t know was there so I went through an entry onto the road and began to walk towards Nantwich. There was a house with a ginger cat so I went to stroke the cat but it wouldn’t come to me. It ran away. Eventually, I found myself back in Brussels again, walking up from Woluwe St Lambert into the centre of the city and into work again. There was one lift that you could only take, that went all the way to the top so I went in there, came out and went into another lift and went back down to my floor and found that I was in the wrong building. I had to go across to the next lift, which was exactly the same – straight to the top – and back down again into the office. I still had this loaf of bread with me but when I came into my office to sit down, I couldn’t see the girl at that moment.

The girl concerned in this dream unfortunately died shortly after leaving school. When a group of us heard that she had become seriously ill, we went round to her house but her parents wouldn’t let us come in. At first, we were quite annoyed by that, but as time has gone on and I’ve seen people die, I can understand how she and her parents must have been feeling.

And a lift again, just like the previous night. I wonder why these are suddenly appearing during my dreams. It’s not as if I’m ever likely to encounter any these days. However, wandering around Brussels in my dreams is nothing new.

The nurse turned up as usual and asked how I was. I told him that I was feeling better than yesterday, but he didn’t have much to say for himself. He was soon gone and then I could make breakfast and read some more of REPORT ON EXCAVATIONS MADE UPON THE SITE OF THE ROMAN CASTRUM AT PEVENSEY by Charles Roach Smith.

And here we go again. He tells us that "the mortar, that important ingredient which Saxon, Norman and English architects only imperfectly understood, was made by Roman masons on a principle so sound and unvarying that its tenacity is unimpaired by age and its solidity is nothing inferior to the stones and tiles it cements together"

He then goes on to mention that "it is nothing unusual to find Roman mortar used as facing stone in the walls of our medieval churches".

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I wonder what happened to the people who built the stone walls so well and made the mortar that has lasted for all these years. If they had been pushed into Wales or over to Brittany, as has often been suggested, why aren’t there any of these types of stone buildings there dating from the early mediaeval period? And if they had been absorbed into the Anglo-Saxon population, why didn’t the use of stone and mortar continue?

It really beats me why ethnic cleansing has been ruled out by most authorities.

Back in here, there was football to watch. Arbroath v Dunfermline, with Arbroath failing to overturn the 1-0 deficit from midweek. So Dunfermline march on, one step further towards the Scottish Premier Division.

Afterwards, it was the National League playoff semi-finals – Carlisle v Boreham Wood and Rochdale v Scunthorpe. With both games ending 2-1, we’ll have a final between Rochdale and Boreham Wood to see who plays next season in League Two.

With all of that out of the way, I had another look at the radio programme that I mentioned yesterday. This is going to be a complicated affair but I cracked on all the same. In the end, after much binding in the marsh, I was able to identify, from a list that I had to make, which ended up containing 451 albums of all genres and of all different kinds of obscurity, about twenty that I actually owned, by fourteen different artists.

At that point, I went into the kitchen for my afternoon medication and ended up spending an hour tidying out the fridge. I really must be feeling better!

Having done that, I made a taco roll with some of that vegan cream cheese and salad. And it was really nice too. I shall have to order some more of that next time I’m online shopping.

Back in here again, the sunlight was streaming in through the windows, the temperature was 24°C and it was lovely. I thought that I’d just close my eyes for a few minutes and soak up the heat, so there I was, thoroughly enjoying myself until I fell off the chair seventy-five minutes later. What a waste of time, but it really was nice.

Pushing on, I finished sorting out the music for the radio programme and I had even chosen more than half of the tracks and remixed and re-edited them by the time that I knocked off.

So right now, I’m off to bed, looking forward to a good sleep and a lie-in tomorrow until the nurse wakes me up … "he hopes" – ed …

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about these flying machines … "well, one of us has" – ed … it remind me of a scene from UP THE CHASTITY BELT as Frankie Howerd prepares to leap from the top of the castle tower, wearing his bat-like wings.
"Oh look!" exclaimed Lady Lobelia. "It’s Lurkalot. He flies again!"
"Ahh, Lurkalot!" exclaimed the boxer Billy Walker, playing the part of Chopper the Woodsman. "His flies be his undoing."

Friday 8th May 2026 – BANE OF BRITAIN …

… strikes again!

Yours Truly spent a nice hour this morning completing his shopping list for LeClerc and then went to send it off for delivery later today.

At first, the delivery site wouldn’t load, and when it finally did, it was service indisponible – "service unavailable". So what’s going on here? I kept on trying for a good while, using all sorts of tricks and so on to navigate what I thought was a blockage in the service’s website.

And then, after a while, the lightbulb suddenly clicked on. It’s a bank holiday here today, isn’t it? D’ohhh.

What I put it down to is too much sleep. Last night, by the time that I’d finished my notes and done everything that needed doing, it was about 21:30, and wasn’t I glad to slide under the bedcovers at that time? It took a while … "as usual these days" – ed … to fall asleep, but that was into a nice deep sleep, which I enjoyed intensely.

During the night, I awoke a couple of times. At one moment, 04:10 to be precise, I was lying on my back and not coughing, which surprised me a considerable amount, but I didn’t spend too long thinking about it because I was soon asleep again. And there I lay until the alarm went off at 06:29.

As usual, it took a while to leave the bed, and then I went off to the bathroom to sort myself out. In the kitchen, I had my high-energy drink to wash down my medication and then came back in here to find out what had gone on during the night.

I was on a mission to the moon last night and we were all strapped into these various seats inside what I suppose was the space shuttle or something. A series of tapes was running all the time and the blast-off was extraordinary. I’d never felt anything like that in the past. We soared up into the sky and within four or five minutes, we made a perfect landing wherever it was that we were supposed to be. I managed to find some insects after I’d been chosen and I’d found a few more on the moon. We were all there, looking at different things and everything like that. No-one thought for a minute about how we were going to come back. We were just not interested in that but interested in finding out what there was to see. But there won’t ever be anything like that blast-off. It was absolutely out of this World.

To whatever this relates, I have no idea. But judging by the tone of my voice when I was dictating it, that blast-off must have been really impressive. And going somewhere and finding myself too busy to bother about coming back is par for the course for me.

However, four or five minutes to go from here to the moon is impressive in anyone’s language – however, it does have to be said that, believe it or not, it takes longer to go 30 or so miles from Bangor to Porthmadog by train on British Railways than it does to go to the moon.

I was with my former friend from Stoke on Trent doing something or other. Things didn’t seem to be working out very well there so I left. I found myself in London and wanted to go to the third floor of this building, but when we arrived there, the third floor was absolutely out of order with all of the lifts. We had to force the lift open. There were some people up there directing us and we managed to find our way onto the stairwell. I remember going down one flight of steps but I ended up in a subterranean car park. I went into the street and there was a Lloyd’s Bank there. It was heaving with people, there were people fighting to enter and others fighting to leave. The staff was having to push them out of the door. eventually, I managed to find my way in but it was so crowded that I couldn’t find a cash point anywhere. In the end, I ended up wedged against the counter so I asked the girl there if I could withdraw some cash. she asked if I had an account there, so I replied that I had a bank card and a cheque book, which seemed to satisfy her, so I had to search through my pockets for the bank card. I found all kinds of cards in there – old SIM cards, old memory cards, all kinds of things like that. In the end, I found my bank card and I handed it over to her, and she filled out a form and stamped it. Then she began to stamp all the other cards, and I couldn’t understand why. She asked me if the thing was always as slow as this, to which I replied that I had no idea. This carried on like this – she was busy stamping everything in my possession that she could possibly find.

It’s a shame about my former friend. He was one of the nicest people you could ever meet, until he had his accident and they gave him these pills …

The bit about London doesn’t fit in with any of our “London” dreams unfortunately, and neither does the bank, but the relentless stamping of everything in sight reminds me of the French obsession with documents, paperwork and rubber stamps on everything.

And we’ve been in this underground car park before, during one of our “Brussels” dreams ages ago.

Did I dictate the dream about being at my friend’s house where he and his wife were in bed or doing something in the bedroom? I had to go to the bathroom so I went in, and for five minutes I did some running on the spot to try to keep fit, but they became really annoyed about this. In the end, I decided to wait for a suitable moment and then pack up and leave.

… "No you didn’t, but this looks as if it might have been near the start of the previous dream." – ed …

The nurse turned up as usual this morning. We talked about the panic at the dialysis centre but he didn’t understand the point that I was trying to make. But not to worry, I’ll make my point on Monday at the dialysis centre, no problem.

The name Charles Roach Smith has appeared countless times during our reading of these historic books on the Romans in Britain. He was one of the foundres of modern archaeology in the UK in the mid-nineteenth century. Today, having finished THE ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERY AT MONKTON, the next on the list turns out to be REPORT ON EXCAVATIONS MADE UPON THE SITE OF THE ROMAN CASTRUM AT PEVENSEY by Roach Smith so, after having made breakfast, I began.

It’s only a very short book so we’ll only be here a day or two. So far, he’s avoiding controversy by giving a description of the site.

Back in here afterwards, I had the LeClerc order to send off, as I mentioned, and then I had a printer to coax back into life so that I could print a return label to send a package back. That took longer than intended too. I don’t know what’s the matter with me today.

After that, we had two matches in the Scottish playoffs to watch from earlier in the week. Dunfermline v Arbroath and Alloa Athletic v Airdrie United. Regular readers of this rubbish in a previous version will recall that when I used to visit my friend Lorna up in Scotland, I stood on the terraces at Alloa a few times, so I have a soft spot for the Wasps.

Later on, I attacked the radio programme that I’d begun the other day, and now, all of the notes are written, ready for dictation. That’s quite a pile that is building up on the back burner waiting for this coughing to stop and I need to make a plan about them.

There were a couple of interruptions today during the radio notes. Firstly, my cleaner put in an appearance to do her stuff as usual, and I declined a shower again today. I’m not in the right kind of health at the moment for that.

Secondly, after she left, I made a taco roll with cheese and salad. It’s not much, but I’ll try to break myself slowly into eating again, if I can.

With the time that was left, I began to think about the radio programmes for next week. We’ll see where we go with those.

But one thing about seeing where we go is that I can see where I’ll be going very shortly. My bed is right behind me, even as I type, and I won’t have far to go for that.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about going to the moon … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the early summer of 1969 when a North Vietnamese peasant told his friend "The Americans have gone to the moon."
"What?" cried his friend, incredulously. "All of them?"

Thursday 7th May 2026 – IT SEEMS TO ME …

… that no-one in the hierarchy at dialysis has the least idea of what is going on there. The nurses and assistants are all adorable and I’d bring them all home to my apartment afterwards if I could, but as for the rest …

On Monday I pointed out that, having gone in there with just a few hundred grammes to lose, they suddenly went into a huge panic, wound the machine up to three thousand five hundred, and the time to four hours.

Today, having carefully managed my intake, it was once more just a couple of hundred grammes. And then they came swarming into the room to wind it up to two thousand. An hour and a half later, they wound it back down to eighteen hundred. So what’s going on? And why all the panic?

Anyway, that was today.

Last night, I mentioned my rather strange night and the fact that I was in bed round about 20:00 or so. Out like a light straight away, there I lay until shortly after 03:00. And to my surprise, I was lying on my back and not coughing at all.
At some point, I must have gone back to sleep because I had another one of these dramatic upright awakenings that I sometimes have, and it was 05:11.

Now here’s something that will surprise you. I left the bed and went to stroll the parapet and then came back in here, sat down at the computer, and started work. I must have been feeling better.

The first thing that I did was to start to write the notes from yesterday, but I hadn’t quite finished when the alarm went off so I abandoned them for now while I went into the bathroom.

After my trip into the kitchen for my medication and mouthful of grapefruit juice, I came back in here to carry on with the notes.

When they were done and online, I turned my attention to the dictaphone notes to find out what had happened during the night.

There was a very long and complicated dream about Steve Tyler and his daughter Liv and I don’t know if I can remember all of it. He was taking part in some kind of event in the USA and there was a parallel event in the UK at the same time. While he was searching the web, he came across a blog written by a girl of about fourteen who was at the UK event, so he began to comment on her entries about the difference between what was happening there and what was happening in the UK. This correspondence went on for hours and days. And then there was something to do with his daughter Liv. She was only something like four or five. He had to go out but couldn’t find a babysitter but there was some kind of place where you could take children where they could sleep overnight. There would probably be twenty or thirty kids in this place with four or five monitors. The kids would be left there to sleep so he took her there. As Liv grew up, she was constantly being warned about her father’s bad habits, substance abuse, etc., and to be very careful about what she took that he offered her. At some point, she decided that she would leave home and go to New York, so she was on a train waiting to depart. She had some kind of irrational fear of losing her money so she was checking it every minute or two to make sure that she had it.

Steve Tyler’s problems are legendary, unfortunately, and the story of his relationship with his daughter got off to a very bad start and ended in a whole web of confusion. The story of a girl of fourteen plays some kind of role in this, but that’s another story for which the World is not yet ready to hear. Being a rock star in the late 1960s and 1970s was a minefield.

I was staying in someone’s house in a commune-type of place. It was early morning and I’d been up and about repairing the lawnmower and one or two other things, including some kind of gauge with a backlight. The woman in charge of this commune place came out and began to roar at me about not having begun to tidy up the garden and weed it. I said to her “you know, all you need to say is ‘Eric, could you weed the garden?'”. She stormed off in a foul mood saying “I shall expect a full apology”. I took the lawnmower back and found that I’d lost half of this gauge. One or two people searched and found one of the bits but not the other, so I thought “I’d look for that later”. Then I had to go to the bathroom but I didn’t feel like going into the house to the bathroom so I went out and walked down the main street. Eventually, I came to the covered market so I went in there. There was a guy sitting there behind a stall so I asked him if he knew if there was a public convenience in the building. He replied “yes”, but that wasn’t the answer that I wanted. Two young boys with him began to smile and joke so I glared at them and they cowered away. He still wouldn’t tell me so I walked away. Eventually, I found what I was looking for but they were so small and tight that it was a struggle to fit in. It had a strange kind of glass there that smoked on the outside when there was someone inside but the person inside could quite happily see what was happening outside. It was very, very strange and weird.

Back in the mid-seventies, I lived in a commune for a while. A very short while. I met some of the most selfish people I have ever met and in the end, I preferred the companionship of the spider in my van.

The nurse turned up as usual and didn’t seem to be all that interested in my day and night yesterday, so we didn’t say much.

After he left, I made breakfast and finished off THE ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERY AT MONKTON by the Kent Archaeological Service. The remaining pages didn’t have much to say for themselves.

Back in here, I attacked the radio programme that I’d started yesterday. All of the music has now been traced, reformatted, remixed and re-edited and it has all been paired and segued. Tomorrow, I’ll write the notes for it.

My cleaner turned up to apply my anaesthetic and then I had to wait for the taxi. It was ten minutes early arriving but we had someone to drop off at Sartilly. Nevertheless, I was early arriving at dialysis, but even so, I had to wait for over an hour to be connected.

And just my luck – it was the nurse from the other day but when she saw that it was me, she made an excuse and left me to her colleague.

Then we had all of the shenanigans and I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. I was trying to write out a shopping list but all of the traffic coming to my bed disrupted that. Everyone came to see me, even the dietician who now wants to put me on an intravenous drip. No chance of that.

By the end of the afternoon, I was half-expecting the trick cyclist to put in an appearance.

Late again as usual leaving, my driver was waiting so we were home quite quickly, but still horribly late.

My faithful cleaner helped me, and after she left, I came in here to write up my notes.

Now that they are done, there are just a few little things left to do and then I’ll be off to bed. I had a really good start to the day but it all seems to have gone downhill subsequently. So here’s hoping for further improvement tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Liv Tyler counting her money … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the film INSPECTOR HORNLEIGH ON HOLIDAY when Alastair Sim, hanging upside down over a roof edge, loses all of the money in his pocket.
"Oh no!" he replied. "I’ve lost two and sevenpence ha’penny!"

Wednesday 6th May 2026 – OHHHHH! THAT WAS SOOOOOOO …

… comfortable. I’ve never felt anything like it. There I was, busy choosing the music for the next radio programme and I must have fallen asleep in mid-work. When I awoke, not far short of 20:00, I was so comfortable and relaxed in my chair that I didn’t know who I was, where I was or even when it was.

One thing that I knew though was that it was so pleasant, rather like a walk in a Japanese garden, that I was determined not to miss any of it so I wrote a terse note on my blog, rolled off my chair onto the bed, threw the covers over me and that was that.

It was something most unusual and most unexpected, particularly after last night. It wasn’t as early as I had hoped it would be when I finished everything, but I can’t complain about being in bed at about 21:45.

As usual, it took a while to go off to sleep. The constant coughing didn’t help, but once I’d gone to sleep, I was gone completely until about … ohh, I dunno. I didn’t look at the clock. I lay there for ages, so it seemed, but I must have dropped off again at some point because when the alarm sounded at 06:29 as usual, I was fast asleep.

When the alarm went off, there was a family living in a house that was very much like Vine Tree Avenue. They all seemed to be sleeping in the living room. It was time for them to get up so their father got out of bed and stood on one of these big round balls and rolled himself over to the far side of the room to switch off the alarm and then rolled back. And then as the kids were starting to leave their beds, the mother put her head into the door to ask if one of the boys could go to play with another child from his class after school. She joked and said that he could come round at 18:00 and he’d be fed, etc. The boy will be waiting for him after his favourite programme on the TV at 17:45, etc. She said “that’s just typical of their family. They are absolutely organised to the hilt”.

We lived in our council house in Vine Tree Avenue from 1957 to 1970. “All quite modern”, they said, with just the fire in the living room, a back boiler for the hot water and a kitchen stove heated by the fire in the living room. Dashing up to bed at night with our hot water bottles into ICE STATION ZEBRA upstairs, and scraping the ice from the insides of our bedroom windows in the morning.

Anyone who talks to me about “the good old days” will get a smack in the mouth.

There are also links on the sidebar 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.

It took several minutes … "as usual" – ed … to summon up the strength to stand up and head for the bathroom, and then, in the kitchen, I tried this energy drink thing again with which to take my medicine. I’ve no ida if it’s working or not, but anything is worth a chance.

Back in here, there was plenty of time to check the dictaphone notes to find out what I’d been up to during the night.

There was something about a record producer in the 1970s whose sound was becoming way out of date and he needed to compete with a more modern group. So he financed his concerts by taking some of his groups on trips around old people’s homes, things like that … fell asleep here … He then had this idea that how would songs of the period of the 1950s and 1960s sound with all new modern equipment? Because he realised that his equipment was all out-of-date and he was going to have to upgrade everything to capture a more modern type of sound, he looked through his catalogue for back recordings and found one or two pop songs from that era and decided to rework them with this modern technique, music and equipment in the hope that they would come out as nº 1 hits across Europe.

There’s a story behind this too, and whilst the World is not yet ready to hear it at the moment, it’ll all become apparent in a few months.

But reworking hits from the 1950s and early 1960s with modern production techniques and sound would be quite an interesting project for someone.

The nurse turned up early again and we had quite a discussion about dialysis and my constant coughing fits that were driving him to distraction too. On leaving, he urged me to “rest and take it easy”. If only I could.

Once he’d gone, I made breakfast and started my next book, THE ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERY AT MONKTON by the Kent Archaeological Service.

It’s not really a book – it’s more a forty-one-page brochure, I suppose, and it describes the examination of twenty-two Anglo-Saxon graves that were unearthed during the laying of a gas pipeline through Monkton on the Isle of Thanet in Kent.

However, I couldn’t resist a smile, or even a laugh, when the author tells us that several graves "had evidently been robbed in antiquity" and a couple of pages later, he tells us that the finds that they themselves made "are now in the museum at Maidstone."

A well-known phrase involving a pot and a kettle springs to my mind here.

Back in here, I followed the advice of my nurse and settled down in my chair. And that was that for about ninety minutes. For much of that time, I wasn’t really asleep but in one of those situations where I was drifting around somewhere in a different plane of existence.

Eventually, I managed to pull myself together and I began to write the notes for the radio programme that I’d begun yesterday. It wasn’t a particularly quick exercise and took me much longer than it should, but the constant coughing, which had caused me to vomit a few times, really was annoying me.

When I’d finally finished, I went for a disgusting drink break and my afternoon medication, and then back in here, Rosemary called me for a chat. It was another marathon where we talked about nothing much for ages, but we did chat about how her vegetable garden was going on. If there’s one thing that I really, really miss from my time in the Auvergne, it’s my vegetable patch and all the fresh vegetables that I used to grow.

After that, I began to research the next radio programme and to look for all the music that I needed. That was taking a positive age too, and it was during all of this that I slid into dreamland on my chair.

When I awoke, I did nothing of what I needed to do at the end of the day. I was determined to carry on with this wonderful feeling that I was experiencing, so I just went to bed and that was that. I can’t even remember my head hitting the pillow – that’s how far gone I was.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the ineffectiveness so far of my antibiotics … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of a doctor I know who bumped into one of his patients in the street.
"Did those suppositories that I gave you ease your piles any?" asked the doctor.
"No, doctor" replied the patient. "In fact, to tell the truth, for all the good that they did me, I may as well have shoved them up my a*@e"

Saturday 2nd May 2026 – SO HERE I AM …

… again, late as usual after another evening of football, and surprisingly, I’m not all that tired. Hardly surprising seeing that I seem to have spent most of the morning asleep.

Last night was a better night too. Although I started rather late in writing my notes, by the time that I’d finished and done whatever else I needed to do before going to bed, it was about 21:30 when I finally crawled into bed.

As usual, it took longer than it used to for me to fall asleep, and that’s all that I remember until I awoke some time later. The reason for that was that I had to go to walk the parapet yet again, so I checked the time for once as it looked as if day was dawning.

Sure enough, it was 05:46, which meant that for the first time since I don’t know when, I’d managed eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Back in here, I suppose that I could have dictated a few radio notes, but as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … how is it possible to dictate anything when I’m coughing like I am? One of these days, I’ll post the *.mp3 of some dictaphone notes so that you can hear for yourself just what’s happening.

Instead, I went back to bed and waited for the alarm to go off. And when it did, it took me a good while to leave the bed yet again.

In the bathroom, I sorted myself out and had a good scrub-up, and I also changed some clothes and had a handwashing session. Consequently, I was late in the kitchen but, nevertheless, I made my hot drink with which to take my medication.

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

For some reason, I’d moved apartment and was busy sorting out all of my things as to what goes where. The apartment that I’d bought was nothing like as nice as mine, but never mind. There was a kind of built-in chest in the living room, so I’d laughed and joked about it being a good place to hide the bodies and that had led to a local policewoman coming around. She wanted to inspect the box so I had to open it for her. It was rather a complicated affair with a long bar and two padlocks on it, but I opened it, and there was nothing in it, so she was satisfied and eventually left. Then I began to go to look at the bathroom because I hadn’t actually seen the bathroom beforehand. I turned on the light, and I was rather disappointed because it was one of these 1960s or early 1970s bathrooms with light blue tiles, very cheap fittings, etc. There was a shower there that was rather small. One thing about the shower was that there was a heavy padlock on it and I hadn’t been left the keys for this so I thought that I’d either have to contact the previous owner or else remove the whole bar and staple. I couldn’t understand why there was a padlock on the shower, particularly on the outside, because that was where it was pretty much useless from anyone who was taking a shower at that time.

What a strange dream this was. The bathroom reminds me of the one in Reyers, although there was a bath there rather than a shower. There is also no reason for me to want to move apartment, although when I was looking for a place to live in Brussels in 1999/2000, I saw more than enough. However, I wasn’t usually quick enough, and that’s how I ended up with Expo.

The padlock on the shower is interesting, though. What would a padlock on the outside of a shower be doing there?

Isabelle the Nurse turned up rather later than usual, having started her round at 06:00 with a series of blood samples to take. I’ve seen her working at 19:00 in the evening too so no wonder she only works one week on and one week off.

We had a little chat about nothing much and then she left. I could crack on with making breakfast and reading some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today, we’re discussing Anglo-Saxon interments and the grave goods that were found in their graves. And like most historians and archaeologists of his generation, he’s mistaking British pre-Roman burial barrows as being Anglo-Saxon, and consequently confusing the origins of the artefacts found therein.

After breakfast, I fell asleep at the table for fifteen minutes and then, back in here, I fell asleep on my chair for almost the rest of Saturday morning.

Once I awoke and came back round into the Land of the Living, I began to work on the radio programme. I managed to pair and segue the tracks, and then I began to write the notes.

There was an interruption in the middle where I went to make my taco roll with this pepper pâté and salad, with some of Liz’s salad dressing, and it was completely delicious. Then I had some croissants to make ready for the next few Sundays, seeing as I ran out last Sunday. They are now all prepared, ready for baking tomorrow morning.

Back in here, I plodded on with the radio notes wearily and bravely, with no ambition at all, but nevertheless, they were finished by the time the football began. That was a triumph of mind over matter to complete that, but at least it means that I can have a day off tomorrow, apart from Welsh homework and bread-baking.

The football was the deciding match to see who would earn the fourth European place for this summer. Penybont, who have slipped down the table since the last time they played as if they were enjoying it, beating Caernarfon in the autumn in a monsoon, and Hwlffordd, who, after a dismal start to the season, have played so much better ever since.

But Hwlffordd couldn’t seem to string two passes together today, and their wafer-thin squad meant that they had to play with a back three of two midgets and an attacking midfielder, and they paid the penalty. Penybont had seemed to find all of their old enthusiasm and were much better with their use of the ball. In the end, they ran out as deserved 2-0 winners.

So now, I’m off to bed, looking forward to a long sleep and a nice lie-in, if I have the chance.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about coughing … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone once went to the doctor’s with a cough like mine.
The doctor examined him and said "I’m sorry, but you don’t have very long to live"
"How long, doctor?" he asked.
"Ten" replied the doctor.
"Ten what?"
"Nine."

Friday 1st May 2026 – HAPPY LABOUR DAY …

… everyone, to those who celebrate it and also to those who don’t, because today, AS THE BEE-GEES WILL REMIND US, is the First of May.

And today has also been a somewhat better day for me too, which is also good news, although it does have to be said that days couldn’t have been much worse just recently.

Last night, after sorting myself out after dialysis, I came in here and attacked the notes. And, would you believe, it wasn’t long after 20:00 that I’d actually finished. I must have been in bed by 20:45 – it was still light outside anyway.

As usual, it took longer than it used to for me to go off to sleep, but once I’d gone, I’d gone completely. I awoke once during the night due to another bad coughing fit, but I must have gone back to sleep at some point because when the alarm went off, it awoke me.

And also as usual, it took me quite a while to summon up the courage and energy to leave the bed, and then I went into the bathroom to sort myself out. Once I’d finished in there, I went into the kitchen to make my hot drink with which to take my medicine.

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

We were three British prisoners of war who had been on a transfer from one prison to another but had managed to escape. We ended up in some big town in Germany so we wandered around for quite a while while we tried to make up our minds. There was one person who tried to talk about beaches to someone. We were having to make plans, but we weren’t sure what plans, because we had absolutely nothing on us. We were wandering around this market and trying to keep people away from us. One of us managed to steal a packet of money that was lying around in an empty room. We carried on walking, but then another one of us managed to acquire a baguette. We then came in to where the fair proper was. Someone asked us if we’d light his lantern or whatever so we did that. Then we began to make plans about what we were going to do and how we need to do it.

This is another dream that doesn’t seem to relate to anything in particular, although the park with its forested bit and the town centre with its fair are places that we have visited before on our nocturnal rambles, albeit a good while ago.

Isabelle the Nurse came in as usual, and we had a good chat about this and that as she sorted out my legs and feet. Once she’s gone, I could make breakfast and read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today, we are discussing the arrival of the Saxons, but that’s not something about which I know very much. And neither does anyone else because there are no contemporary written documents for this period. People like Gildas and Bede, from whom most of our current knowledge is taken, were writing one or two centuries after the events and from a very jaundiced point of view.

However, our author seems to think, as is the current way of thinking, that the Angles, Saxons and Jutes merged in with the native British people, but as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I remain totally unconvinced. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is full of battle after battle, massacre after massacre and slaughter after slaughter, and as we have seen during our travels through the late Roman-early Mediaeval period, the number of trades and skills that disappeared completely at this time points to some kind of ethnic cleansing of the native population. As I said just now – “no contemporary written documents for this period”.

Back in here, I had a few things to do, and then I finished off the radio notes for the programme on which I’d been working.

After a little rest, I eventually began to research the next radio programme. That also involved some considerable searching for some music that I wanted and took an age. I wasn’t very motivated about it and by the time that I knocked off, I’d chosen all of the music, reformatted, re-edited and remixed it. Tomorrow, I’ll push on and see how far I can get.

There was an interesting break in mid-afternoon, though. I found a recipe for a salad dressing that Liz had sent me years ago. Today, I decided to make it, and it really is delicious. I actually had all of the ingredients on hand, which makes a change. When it was ready, I made myself another taco roll of salad with a red and green pepper pâté as a base and then put some of the dressing on it. That was really delicious too.

But I was also looking at my shopping list today, which indicates that there’s some kind of rekindling of my appetite somewhere, and that’s good news.

But right now, though, I’m off to bed hoping for another good night like last night and also hoping that this slow improvement will continue.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about prisoners … "well, one of us has" – ed … I once met a man who had been in prison. He told me that he had been imprisoned for something that he hadn’t done.
"What was that?" I asked him
"I hadn’t wiped my fingerprints off the knife."

Thursday 30th April 2026 – TODAY HAS BEEN …

… a somewhat better day, at least, for the most part. I’ve also accomplished more than I accomplished yesterday too, even though there were only two hours in which to do any work.

Last night, I began to write out my notes at about 19:30, but even so, it took quite a while to complete them and then do everything else that needed doing. I don’t suppose that I was in bed much before 21:30.

It took another few minutes to drop off to sleep, but I awoke, following another coughing fit, at some unearthly time of the morning. I didn’t check the time but I do remember debating with myself whether to leave the bed in order to go to walk the parapet. However, the decision was taken out of my hands, as I must have fallen asleep at that point.

Somewhat later, I awoke again, with no need to debate the situation. I did check the time this time, and it was 04:43. THis made me think about staying up and dictating some radio notes, but how can you debate when you are being wracked by fits of coughing? Instead, I climbed back under the quilt where I fell asleep again.

When the alarm went off, I was with my former friend from Stoke on Trent. We had my LDV on a trailer that was being pulled by something. We were round at his house, although it was nothing like his house. It was a terraced house in one of the better classes of terraces with a front garden, something like in Alton Street near the old petrol station. Anyway, this guy and someone else had to go to a meeting, which was in one of the houses a little way down the street. When they went to this meeting, someone opened the door, and I could see the wall decoration, which was blue, black and white, and it looked terrible but they went in. I went back to the LDV and I had to walk around the vehicle on the trailer. Someone shouted from a distance “are you fat?” so I just ignored them. By this time, I had over my shoulder my travelling bag with my clothes, etc. in it. When I came round to the back of the vehicle, it was no longer the LDV but a Land Rover. There was some kind of big machine sitting on the tailgate so I picked up the machine, which was fairly heavy, and went up into the guy’s house. Once inside, I wiped my feet on the doormat and went to install myself on a chair in the kitchen with this machine and my clothes bag. But when the alarm went off, I was somewhere on foot down some kind of motorway somewhere but I don’t know where and I don’t know why.

My LDV was a strange van. It was good when I bought it, but I couldn’t find any spare parts at all for it over here. In the end, the join between the roof and one of the sides rusted through, which might not have been so bad had I not had a big roof rack on it, on which I carried huge loads of wood.

And I reckon that I’ve told the story of my former friend often enough that it doesn’t bear repeating.

As usual, it took me a while to summon up the courage and the energy to leave the bedroom, and after a stagger into the bathroom to have a wash and a shave, in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, I went into the kitchen for my medication. Today, as it’s dialysis, I washed it down with just a mouthful of grapefruit juice.

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

I had to go somewhere in my van and meet a few of my friends in a nearby town. I had a huge load of computers with me, eight notebooks and three ordinary laptops. I arrived at the place where we were meeting, which was next door to a bar. We had a chat about a few things, which included registering for health insurance so we ordered that. I was astonished to notice that I was registered n°1. There was some work to do on the van and then we walked down to the place where we were meeting our friends. He mentioned something about a load of grain to pick up from the side of the road somewhere up in the mountains. I almost set out but realised that I’d left the computers on the edge of the road so I had to go back for them. Then, I drove off into the hills, but I couldn’t see this pile of grain anywhere. In the end, I came back and told them about the pile of grain that I couldn’t find. The conversation carried on, and we saw a few people go into the bar next door, including two old women carrying guitars. Our host brought out three cans of beer and told us to choose one, two of one make and one of another. I chose the one on its own, but I couldn’t take the label off the backing plastic, no matter how I tried. It wouldn’t come off. And then we carried on talking about the grain. I realised that I would have to go back for it, but even if I found it, I wouldn’t be able to load it in because there was nothing in the van to help me do that. But first, I had to go to find it, so I set out, drove a hundred yards, suddenly realised that the computers were on the edge of the street again so I went back for them and put them in the van.

This is another one of those dreams that means nothing to me. There are in fact three notebooks and probably half a dozen laptops hanging around here, of which three or four laptops are probably working. And I haven’t drunk any beer for probably about thirty-five years.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual. She gave me a little weather forecast, sorted out my legs and feet, and then left as rapidly as she had arrived. I made my breakfast and then read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today, we’re discussing the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, at least in Britain. And while he has his dates slightly mixed up, he’s steering clear so far of any controversial discussion.

Back in here, I had a few things to finish off and then I attacked the radio programme. By the time I was ready to knock off, all of the music had been segued and I’d written over three quarters of the notes. That’s some good going.

My cleaner came in to help me with the anaesthetic, and then I had to wait for the ambulance. It was a minute or two early, but there was someone else to pick up en route.

Even so, I was early arriving. And for a change, they seem to be a little more clued-up in there, as they have now put me in the bed nearest the door rather than the one farthest away. There are still beds nearer than where I was put, but “baby steps”.

Once again, I was down at my dry weight as I entered, and, in a big surprise, I was one of the first seen to, too. As there was nothing to extract, they had a series of discussions amongst themselves which resulted in the extraction amount being changed three times.

They left me alone for most of the session, which was good news, and I was also one of the first to be unplugged. The nurse who attended to me told me that the results from Friday had not yet arrived, hence the delay in telling me. And weighing myself on leaving, there’s just one kilo to go before I reach my sporty weight, although I don’t feel very sporty right now.

The taxi wasn’t there, so I had to wait ten minutes, which meant that I wasn’t at home as early as I would have liked. But after my cleaner had helped me in and left, I came back in here to write up my notes.

Now, I’ll be off to bed in a few moments, with a day of comparative rest before me, as my cleaner has decided to have a day off tomorrow, with it being a Bank Holiday over here.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about losing weight … "well, one of us has" – ed … I remember when Nerina went on one of these weight-loss diets.
"How’s it going, dear?" I asked her
"Great" she replied. "In three weeks, I’ve lost 6 kilos."
"You keep it up, dear" I told her. "In another thirty weeks, you’ll be gone completely."

EPIC HALL

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

Tag Archives: early night

Wednesday 3rd June 2026 – BRAIN OF BRITAIN …

Monday 1st June 2026 – AFTER SEVERAL WEEKS …

Friday 15th May 2026 – WE ARE NOT …

Thursday 14th May 2026 – THE BAD NEWS …

Wednesday 13th May 2026 – AND THERE I …

Tuesday 12th May 2026 – OH NO! NOT ANOTHER …

Monday 11th May 2026 – GOD ALONE KNOWS …

Sunday 10th May 2026 – WHAT A CHAOTIC …

Saturday 9th May 2026 – I HAVE TO ADMIT …

Friday 8th May 2026 – BANE OF BRITAIN …

Thursday 7th May 2026 – IT SEEMS TO ME …

Wednesday 6th May 2026 – OHHHHH! THAT WAS SOOOOOOO …

Saturday 2nd May 2026 – SO HERE I AM …

Friday 1st May 2026 – HAPPY LABOUR DAY …

Thursday 30th April 2026 – TODAY HAS BEEN …

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