Tag Archives: fall

Tuesday 6th January 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone this morning.

But that’s not surprising. After all, if you don’t go to sleep, you can’t dream, can you?

Last night, I remember saying “The biggest problem right now is the pain in my foot, and it’s killing me. It’s the worst that I’ve ever known it to be”. And I was not wrong either. It really was total agony.

What was the worst thing about this was that it really was an early night. I’d put a lot of effort into finishing off my notes etc and was in bed by 22:15, looking forward to at least eight hours of beauty sleep … "and he needs it too" – ed …

However, being wracked one minute by a fierce, stabbing pain in the foot and the next minute by an intense coughing fit, I just lay there in agony, watching the clock go round and round. When it reached about 05:30, I thought “I’m bound to fall asleep at some point” so I switched off the alarm, thinking that I’d at least sleep through until Isabelle the Nurse would come.

That didn’t work, though, and at 07:25, I couldn’t stand it any more and sat on the edge of the bed.

It took a good fifteen minutes to raise myself to my feet, and then I cleared off into the bathroom to sort myself out, and then went for my hot drink and medication. Surprisingly, I began to feel a little better after the hot drink. I wonder if I’m being dehydrated too much at dialysis, or whether the liquid is coming from the wrong place.

Back in here, I’d barely sat down to restart work when Isabelle the Nurse came in. While she sorted out my legs, she showed me some photos of her daughter in Paris yesterday. It wasn’t the daughter she wanted me to see but the snow. And it was impressive, although not as impressive as my galvanised steel dustbin, nor as impressive as all of the snow around St.Lô that my taxi driver had shown me yesterday.

After she left, I made breakfast. But strangely, and for the first time ever, I didn’t finish my porridge. I wasn’t in the mood for it and I don’t know why. Usually, it’s the food that I most look forward to. I didn’t even finish my toast, complete with the last serving of mushroom pâté, but that was for a different reason.

What happened instead was that my head slowly began to spin around and I started to feel light-headed. I decided that the best place for me to be would be in bed, so I tried to stand up.

The first attempt was a miserable failure, so I breathed deeply and made a superhuman effort to try to rise to my feet, and then all the lights went out.

Some time later, I awoke. I was lying on the floor, surrounded by a fallen chair and a few other bits and pieces.

“This isn’t going me much good” I said to myself, although there wasn’t really much that I could do about it. I can’t rise to my feet at all if I’m flat out on the ground. And my ‘phone was in the bedroom. So I went on all fours into the bedroom to find the phone to send a message to see if my faithful cleaner was still at home. But no, she’d gone out.

In the end, I rolled over onto my back and, pushing with my feet against the office chair that was wedged against the desk, I managed to slide up and onto the bed It took me twenty minutes to do it, though.

To recover, I lay on the bed for a while until I felt better. And that was when I noticed, to my dismay, that there were only twenty minutes to the start of my Welsh class and I’d done no revision yet. I was seriously thinking of abandoning it today, but I did what I could and then I went to join it.

Surprisingly, it all went quite well and I actually enjoyed it. It’s a shame that I won’t be present next week, but I have to go to Paris for the news about how the chemotherapy went. Not that I need to be told, because I already have a good idea of that they will tell me.

Once the lesson was over, I sent my order off to the supermarket. I saw that the only delivery slot left was between 16:00 and 18:00 so I booked it quickly before it was taken.

My faithful cleaner turned up at about 14:15 to do her stuff and to put me in the shower, but I declined. It’s not a sensible idea for me to shower if I’m unsteady on my feet as I am right now. “We’ll see how I am on Friday” I told her.

Margaret Thatcher once said something like "anyone can do a good day’s work when they are feeling like it. The secret of success is to do a hard day’s work when you aren’t feeling like it."

And so it was today; even though I was feeling wretched, I attacked the next radio programme. And by the time that I’d finished, I’d edited a concert track down to about fifty-eight minutes and written enough speech to cover about two and a half minutes. That’s plenty to be going on with. There was even time to start the next one too, which is also a concert.

The LeCLerc order should have arrived by 18:00 at the latest. They had telephoned me at 17:56 to say that they are running late, which is no surprise in this weather. What was a surprise was that they turned up at 19:35, just as I was taking a bag of frozen food out of the freezer. Never mind though – I put the cooling and cold stuff in the fridge or the freezer and I’ll tackle the rest tomorrow, and I continued.to make tea.

Tonight, it was a taco roll with beans à la mexicaine, but not as à la mexicaine as I like them, of course and veg, followed by Christmas cake. Once more, it was a struggle to eat them, although I managed it. And right now, I’m off to bed, hoping yet again for another good sleep and another hard-working day on the radio. The new laptop should be coming too, which should make things a little easier.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about falling down … "well, one of us has" – ed … I was in a pub once where there was a man staggering around, falling over, not being able to stand upright.
The landlord came over to throw him out, but I intervened. "Let me see if I can find his address and I’ll take him home."
So I reached down and rummaged through his pockets. I found an address. It wasn’t too far away so two friends helped me carry him to his doorstep.
His wife opened the door so we explained what had happened, about him staggering about, falling over and not being able to stand up, so we brought him home to save him the disgrace of being thrown out.
"Very good" she replied. "Now, where’s his wheelchair?"

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Wednesday 9th July 2025 – CAN YOU IMAGINE …

… anything as embarrassing as being in the middle of a conversation with someone and suddenly dropping unconscious at their feet?

The kitchen-fitter and his son who came this morning to start work don’t need to imagine it because they saw it for themselves as a conversation that I was having with them came to a rather dramatic pause.

That’s now the fourth of these little wobbles that I’ve had. There were the two that I mentioned last night, a third as I was going to bed, and the fourth which was the daddy of them all this morning.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that yesterday, I was becoming concerned about all of this. The one that I had when I was almost ready for bed made me even more worried, and then collapsing unconscious for a couple of minutes at the feet of a couple of visitors is extremely perturbing.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … one of these days I’m going to have one of these attacks and I won’t awaken from it. And the way that things are going, it won’t be long a-coming.

It was a late night too last night – I didn’t go to bed until about 00:15, what with one thing and another … "and until you’ve started, you have no idea how many other things there are" – ed … but I was soon asleep. And there I stayed until about 06:00.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … being awake is one thing. Leaving the bed is something else completely. It was about 06:15 when I finally saw the light of day and fell out of the bed.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up and then went into the kitchen for my morning fruit juice and medication. It was yet another slow start to the day while I slowly unwound.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We shared a holiday home with some people, a home in France. Eventually we decided that we were going to settle down there and stay forever. The other people who were sharing the house were not particularly happy about the situation of Brexit and all of that. In the end, one night after a rather heated discussion, they simply packed their bags and left, leaving us in charge of the house. Nothing much happened about that after a while except that one evening, just as we were moving some furniture around, someone knocked at the door. We had to rearrange the furniture quickly and let them in. It was some people who had come to see the house. Obviously the house had been put up for sale, no-one had said anything to us, and now there were people arriving to have a look around it. They took a big liking to our collie who was six years old but the cats took absolutely no notice of them. We ended up having something of a chat about the situation. One of the things that came out in the discussion somewhere was the question of the rateable value of the land. Someone had a big plot of land in a forest but they were only paying a small amount of tax on it. After they had had this campaign to try to equalise the tax payments, someone explained to them that if the land is not capable of being exploited, for example, it’s too steep, it doesn’t attract council tax. Here in this forest in the middle of the mountains, a lot of the land was far too steep to do anything with it so it had no rateable value.

This sounds rather like what will be happening here over the next few weeks. The estate agents are coming to photograph the place on Friday and from then on, there will be streams of people coming to look at (and to sight-see) the apartment while I’ll be in the throes of trying to tidy up and move house.

If anyone has a free weekend some time, I shall be needing all the help that I can find.

The nurse turned up, much earlier than usual, and sorted out my legs. And while I was making my breakfast, the kitchen-fitter and his son turned up to start work.

They needed to know where my new apartment was and what needed to be done so I went downstairs with them. And it was while we were in the bathroom discussing the shower unit that I hit the floor quite dramatically.

Eventually, I recovered and it was a very sad, weary me who struggled in vain up the stairs. In the end I had to take the lift from the first half-landing up to the next and then struggle downwards to my door.

Breakfast was next, and I read MY BOOK but I was so out of everything that I couldn’t begin to tell you what I read.

Back in here, it took me a while to recover and then I started on my “Friday Woodstock” programme. And that is now, at long last, finished and is just how I want it to be. It took an age and several retries to bring it down to exactly one hour but there it is, all done and dusted, and the only artists excluded are Ravi Shankar and Swami Satchidananda, but there again their performances aren’t really the style that will fit into our rock music programmes.

Tomorrow, I’ll start on the “Saturday Woodstock” programme and see how I go. That is going to be much more complicated because there is so much that needs to be omitted if I want to keep it down to one hour.

There were the usual interruptions, such as a couple of disgusting drink breaks and the arrival of my faithful cleaner, who, as usual, helped me into and out of the bath while I had a shower.

And bless her, she spent much more than one hour going through the kitchen and bathroom making everything look respectable ready for the photograph sessions on Friday.

While all of this was going on, my right knee began to swell dramatically and it hurts like Hades. I can hardly move without being in some kind of agony and it looks as if there is a balloon on my knee. I must have fallen with quite a thump.

The kitchen fitter came to say goodbye and to show me some photos of what he had done. It certainly looks impressive and I can’t wait to see the finished product. That’s likely to be in a couple of weeks, he reckons.

The shower room isn’t going to be so easy, he thinks, and he’s probably right. I’m already beginning to redesign it in my head and I’ll probably do that three or four more times yet.

Tea tonight was a burger with pasta. I wasn’t feeling up to much. And my faithful cleaner came by to pick up some things for downstairs and to take a few more photos of the work

But that’s everything now. I’m going to rub some heat treatment into my leg and then strap an ice-pack on, and then go to sleep. I want to see if this swelling and the pain will go down overnight. If not, I’m going to have an enormous amount of difficulty going to dialysis.

But seeing as we have been talking about my bad leg … "well, one of us has" – ed … I’ll have to be careful about hos this works out.
Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I had a bad fall a few years ago while I was out and about and hurt my knee quite badly.
Some guy walking by stopped to help me and offered his advice.
"Are you a doctor?" I asked
"Not exactly" he replied, "but I do have some kind of medical experience"
"So what do you think?" I asked him
He examined me and replied "I’d better go to fetch my gun"
"Your gun?" I exclaimed. "Why a gun?"
"I’ve seen that injury before" he replied "and I had to use it on the horse."

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Friday 19th July 2024 – "SMILE!" THEY SAID.

"things could be worse!"

And so I smiled. And sure enough, things were worse.

It’s difficult to believe just how things are unravelling here right at the moment. Getting ready for bed last night after finishing my notes, I fell over.

It was another one of these “falling over backwards” things like I had in the kitchen the other day. This time though it was in the bedroom.

What is hard to believe and it’s true all the same, that despite all of the rubbish, mess, guitars and everything that clutter up this place, I actually hit the ground on my back without hitting anything on the way down. And the chances of that happening must have been extremely remote, to say the least.

It took me about half an hour to make it to my feet. Some kind of weird gyration from a sitting position into being able to crawl onto the bed with the aid of a well-stuffed suitcase as some kind of half-way step

But what a state to get into. I had visions of pulling the quilt down and sleeping on top of the carpet until Isabelle the nurse would rescue me in the morning.

However I struggled back upright, finished what I had to do and then rather happily crawled into bed with a sigh of relief.

After all of the exertions I was totally surprised to be wide awake at about 06:15 and I was actually up and about before the alarm went off

This morning I had a good wash and scrub up as well as a shave and change of clothes if I’m going out. And then waiting for Isabelle the nurse, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was with my taxis last night. We had a town, we had a plot of land so we decided that we’d set up something there and run the taxis from it. I had a nice little garage and a couple of cars but while I was talking about setting up everything I awoke in the middle of it and lost all of the momentum in the dream that I was having which was a shame

Not really a shame. I might have enjoyed running a taxi business 40 years ago but the gloss soon wore off and I wouldn’t go back to doing it again, not even during a dream, thank you very much.

And then I was expecting to slip into the estate of a relative of mine who was dying. What was important about this was that there had been another relative who had died under mysterious circumstances abroad and his body had been in a deep-freeze for years while people argued about where he was to go and what he was to do etc. I suspected that the British Coroner was unwilling to accept the body because he’d have to perform a post-mortem on it. There had been this huge campaign for years to bring this person’s body and that of several other people in similar circumstances, to bring them home and lay them to rest. The first thing that I did when I inherited the estate was to contact some firm of undertakers and make arrangements for this body to be brought back to the UK. I was expecting to be besieged by the Press and by news reporters but no-one actually came to visit me last night about this. The only person who set foot on my premises was my brother and I didn’t really know what he wanted. It was certainly nothing to do with this particular thing but after all the fuss and bother that had been made when the relative who died had refused to repatriate the relative from abroad, the fact that I issued repatriation instructions immediately that I took over the estate and that passed unnoticed, it was totally bizarre.

My greatest wish is that no-one repatriates me to the UK. I own a burial plot in the cemetery at Ixelles in Brussels where Marianne is interred but I don’t want to go there either. I want to be put in a natural cemetery and a tree planted on top of me. That’s how I shall live for ever – being absorbed into the roots of a tree that will grow and grow.

Finally I was living at home and wanted a bath so I stuck my head in the bathroom. My little sister was in the bath and my two younger brothers were drying themselves so I thought “never mind – I’ll have a bath again”. I went off to do something or other. On the way back I heard some noise in the bathroom so I went to see. Now my sister had left the bath so I thought “ahh, here’s a bath full of water free”. My brother said “the shower by the way is totally useless but the bath is wonderful” so I thought “I’m really looking forward to getting into the bath at last and having a good wash. I certainly need one”.

Ahhh the good old days – all in the bath, oldest first while the water is hotter. If we are lucky there might be a bit of hot water left in the baby burco water boiler – careful not to scald yourself when you pour it into the bucket and tip it into the bath.

All the smaller kids in the bath together. “ohh look, a bubble-bath” – yes, it was baked beans on toast for tea

Apart from the fact that I don’t have two brothers, anyone who goes on about “the good old days” will receive a smack in the mouth. There was nothing whatever that was good about them.

Isabelle was late coming. There’s all kinds of chaos going on all over the place this morning apparently. She didn’t wait around long because she was in a hurry so she cleared off quickly and I had a rather late breakfast.

The taxi was late coming too. All of their computing system and radio control has broken down and they are driving around with pencil and notepad with a list of jobs. Just like back in the 1960s before radio control in fact. Nothing seems to be working this morning.

They were all working at the Nephrology Clinic – at least, the people who saw me were. Unfortunately Emilie the Cute Consultant wasn’t there to soothe my fevered brow but her sidekick was and I told him my tale of woe about being held to ransom at the clinic down the road.

He had the decency to be upset and apologetic, but I made it quite clear that I wasn’t going to set even one foot ever again in that maudit établissement

And it turned out that while Emilie the Cute Consultant wasn’t there, she’d been talking about me to the others and some of my little secrets are now in the public domain.

Still, there’s only one thing worse than being talked about, and that’s NOT being talked about. It’s nice to know that Emilie the Cute Consultant thinks that I’m worth talking about.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … Nephrology Clinic, the consultant there admired the work that my cleaner and Isabelle the nurse had done. He considered that I’m lucky in having such good and attentive people around me.

There’s localised swelling but the wound itself is healing, it’s not septic and he’s pleased with the progress.

He can’t explain the panic the other night because there were no obvious signs. If we hadn’t imagined it, which I assured him that we hadn’t, he reckoned that my little team of helpers had resolved everything on the spot in the nick of time.

While I was waiting for my taxi back his secretary went off in search of an orange juice. And just as she came back with apple juice, the taxi arrived.

On getting in I texted my cleaner to say that we were on our way back, only for him to announce that we had other pick-ups.

So eventually with a full car of passengers we headed back to Granville. The driver asked if he could practise his English on the way home so we had a very interesting chat on the way home

Back here I had a salad for lunch and then came in here where I promptly crashed out. And how. I was dead to the World. I hadn’t even noticed that my cleaner had been and gone.

Rosemary rang me for a chat and it must have been a very strange chat at first as I struggled to awaken.

After she’d finished I had my hot chocolate and then made a loaf of bread. While that was proofing i made some naan dough

And then I could finally have the leftover curry that I should have had on Wednesday.

Tomorrow I have lots of work to to, catching up with radio stuff. I should have finished off that radio programme today but what with one thing and another I didn’t.

So don’t forget, Saturday night, my Hawkfest at LE BOUQUET GRANVILLAIS at 21:00 CET, 20:00 UK Time, 15:00 Toronto time.

But thinking of all of the kids in the bath together reminds me of the noble Lord being attended to at his bath by his manservant, Wibble.
Suddenly the noble Lord breaks wind in the water. And the manservant dashes off and comes back with a hot water bottle.
"Why have you brought that?" asked the noble Lord
"You asked for it, My Lord" said Wibble
"I asked for it?"
"Yes, my Lord" replied Wibble. "I heard you clearly. You said ‘what about a water bottle, Wibble’ "

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Friday 28th June 2024 – I WAS RIGHT …

… about the card reader solution being too easy.

Sure enough, the girl turned up at 12:30 with the delivery and so I went to pay for it using her portable card reader. “PIN correct” but “Card Declined”

And that was how it went on for about 15 minutes until in the end I gave up and used my Belgian card. I thought that that solution was too good to be true and, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, it’s par for the course.

Meanwhile, in other news, I’ve had another bad fall this evening. Only this time it wasn’t “sideways keeling over when the knee folds up” which, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, is also par for the course, but tonight it was “backwards into the kitchen shelving unit while washing up” – a totally new experience.

Another new experience was actually being in bed before 23:00 last night.

Not by very much, I have to admit. Just by a wafer-thin margin but never mind, it was an accomplishment.

However, regular readers of this rubbish will recall what usually happens at times like this. At 05:00 I had to go to walk the parapet. Try as I might, I couldn’t go back to sleep and when the alarm finally went off at 07:00 I was already up, washed, dressed and sitting at the computer.

There was some stuff on the dictaphone too so I transcribed that while I was waiting for the nurse to come. A newspaper headline in one of the broadsheet dailies had made some kind of inflammatory remarks supposedly said by a member of the Government about the situation in Ireland that the Minister, if he had his way, would “exterminate the lot of them”. This apparently was the final straw and the next day in Parliament there were severe probing questions asked about “what exactly is the Government’s agenda in this respect?”. Of course they were all extremely vague. Nevertheless the Police launched a raid and took away thousands of papers. Then a senior Policeman was arrested and charged with “misconduct in public office”. It turned out that he had been leaking details of all the Police operations to fellow Party members so they were all well aware of what was happening. Now of course Society had had enough. There were all these arrests and all these charges. I remember saying to someone “it’s high time that all this inflammatory language was addressed and people were dealt with for stirring it all up”. Someone said “yes but that means that there would be an independent Ireland in five years” to which I replied “does it really matter?”. The fellow shook his head and said “not really, I suppose”

And if they ever do introduce a law to outlaw the kind of outlandish and incendiary rhetoric that comes from the mouths of some of these politicians, mainly of one particular shade of opinion, I for one what be most impressed. How I yearn for the dignity of politicians like Gaitskell and MacMillan rather than the rabble that seem to have been in power in several countries of the World

The nurse and I had a good chat this morning and on leaving gave me a list of supplies that she thinks we might need in the near future. She also gave me the Injection of the Last Resort, which I’m now to have twice per week instead of once. This is becoming serious too.

After she left, I went and had breakfast, having sent the shopping list to my faithful cleaner “for action” while she’s in town this morning.

Much of the day has been spent on radio stuff. I’ve now finished editing all of the stuff that I dictated the other night, all programmes are assembled and as for the last one, the final music has been chosen and the text written ready for dictating.

And then I’ve been writing out some notes for the next one. I’m still boldly going forwards, but to what end I haven’t really a clue.

We had the food delivery, as I mentioned. And that was a dismal failure that didn’t fulfil the purpose of activating my bank card. But at least I now know that the “tap” function of my Belgian card works, after today’s efforts.

But thinking about the different bank cards reminded me of that time at that Motel in Maine (or was it New Hampshire?) in 2017 when they wanted to check my identity, and so we had –

  • British passport
  • French driving licence
  • Belgian bank card
  • My vehicle, Strider with his New Brunswick licence plates
  • Québec mobile ‘phone

Yes, that would confuse the badgers.

Those were the days when I was an International Man of Mystery. Look how far the mighty have fallen now.

While my cleaner was here doing her stuff I was doing the radio stuff and going through the Post. And to add to the confusion, I have been “summoned to attend” the Centre de Re-education at 10:30 in the forenoon on 3rd September. “Do not pass ‘Go’ and do not collect £200”.

What do they want, I wonder. We shall find out, I suppose, if I remember to go. but I need to ‘phone them for a taxi voucher as I need one to take me there (and bring me back).

But whichever way you look at it, things are hotting up here and at this rate I’ll be out somewhere every day if I’m not careful. Those of you who think that I need to go out more often won’t be disappointed.

After the cleaner left I baked a loaf as I was running out of bread. And this one rose like a lift as well and looks really good. I was really impressed with how it came out.

While it was baking I baked some potatoes and so I had my Saturday Quorn fillet tonight instead. I know that it’s only a small oven and it doesn’t take much to fill it, but nevertheless I should still be filling it as often as I can.

And then washing up, next think I remember is being on the floor on my back surrounded by bottles, cans and jars. Backwards into the storage shelves, I reckon. Don’t ask me how.

Like that on the floor, I could just about make it to “on my knees” and that’s the limit of my muscular strength. I can’t raise myself any higher than that.

And so I waddled on my knees across the apartment and on the count of “three”, “three being the number of the counting and the number of the counting being three. Five is right out”, I threw my upper body onto the sofa.

One by one, I pulled my legs up behind me and then with a bit of manoeuvring I could sit on the sofa. Lifting myself up I could slide a box underneath so I was sitting higher, and then onto the arm of the sofa, and then I could stand up with a bit of effort.

20 minutes it took me. What a state to be in. A year ago I could stand upright from a kneeling position but there’s no chance of that these days.

It reminds me of the time that Neil Kinnock, Leader of the Opposition, was walking through the Public Gallery on his way out of the House of Commons.
There was obviously something important going on and the Lord Tipstaff of the House of Commons, resplendent in robe and wig, was chasing after him.
Catching sight of him down the far end of the corridor the Lord Tipstaff shouted "Neil!" at the top of his voice.
And all the American tourists present knelt.

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Friday 22nd March 2024 – I’M NOT HAVING …

… much luck with my footfest this weekend. Cymru’s Under-21 match against Lithuania isn’t being streamed on a foreign carrier either tonight.

It’s just my luck, after last night’s stunning victory of the senior team against Finland following on from Cymru’s “C” team against England on Wednesday night. I was really looking forward to some football tonight. Watching Stranraer slump to a controversial 2-1 defeat to Elgin City on the swamp that is Stair Park was hardly any compensation

It’s been a really long time since I was at Stair Park – almost 50 years in fact. I was coming off the ferry from one of my trips to Northern Ireland when I saw crowds (well, perhaps not “crowds”) of people heading all in one direction, all wearing blue and white scarves. So I had to follow them to see what was going on, as if I didn’t know.

It’s so long ago now that I can’t remember who they were playing. Probably someone like Arbroath or Montrose or something. And as I don’t have my photos here from that period, I can’t even tell you the colours. But one thing that I can tell you is that the ground hasn’t changed one iota in that time. It still looks the same as it did back then.

Mind you, that’s a relief. The Taylor Report swept away many traditional football grounds and with football attendances in Scotland being what they are, we were left with far too many of these modern, soulless one-sided wonders with “room to build the other three sides when attendances improve”.

Yes, quite.

The problem in Scottish football can be summed up in two words, “Celtic” and “Rangers”.

Regular readers of this rubbish in one of its previous versions will recall that I stood outside Albion Rovers’ ground in Coatbridge where the average attendance was about 300 watching busload after busload of people wearing green and white or blue and white scarves all heading into Glasgow.

And then I was at Broadwood in Cumbernauld once watching a game between Glasgow Rangers reserves v Celtic reserves, both teams full of players that would have been a boon and an asset to any other club in Scotland. Rangers and Celtic had signed them not because they needed them but because they didn’t want any other club to have them and become a competitive threat.

And absolutely nothing whatever has changed, except that Albion Rovers have been relegated from the Scottish pyramid into the Lowland League. But as former Spurs manager Terry Venables once famously said, "if history repeats itself, I should think we can expect the same thing again"

However, I digress … "again" – ed …

Last night was another one of those nights where I couldn’t tear myself out of my chair and into bed. It was something like 01:30 when I finally moved a muscle and set about doing my nightly chores. I’ve absolutely no idea what’s happening to me right now about this.

Anyway it was another really deep sleep like last night where I can’t remember a single thing until the alarm went off

When it awoke me I really was dead to the world and I had quite a battle to raise myself from the dead. They talk about “the quick and the dead” in Biblical terms but there was nothing whatever quick about it.

First thing was to check the blood pressure. 15.9/100, pretty similar to last night’s 16.0/10.1, taken when I was feeling rather stressed out trying to exert myself to go to bed. So what was winding me up during the night?

Anyway I wandered off into the kitchen to sort out the medication. I’m beginning to run low on certain things again – just supplies of a few of the tablets for a couple of weeks. I need to keep an eye on everything to make sure that I don’t run out.

Next task was to make the bread. And I put a lot of thought and effort into this lot and tried my best to knead it correctly, which is not easy.

After that I went for a good wash, scrub up and shave and all of that kind of thing, as well as washing to shorts that I’ve started to wear in bed. But I didn’t get as far as I would have liked because for once in his life the nurse was here early.

When he came in, he saw the bread buns slowly rising, said “oh look, bread!” and poked one, which promptly sank

He eventually managed to find a vein and extract some blood. And I’ve had the results already. The red blood count is slowly rising, which is no surprise given the amount of stuff they are injecting into me every Wednesday, but so is the carcinogenic protein. It should be between 59 and 104 and it’s increased from 267 to 275.

So if the red blood cells are increasing, what is the protein attacking? The answer is that it’s now attacking the platelets. They should be between 140 and 380 and they have decreased from 108 to 92. That would seem to indicate that the cancer is now moving into my bone marrow.

So what’s the next move going to be? Someone will tell me something in due course, I imagine.

Having switched off the heating in the apartment, I checked the bread again and it had risen really well and for once I was impressed, especially as I’m making hot cross buns on Sunday and I need some confidence and encouragement.

The bread baked perfectly too, lovely and soft. It made some really nice cheese on toast and there is bread for the next couple of days too

Later on today I went to pay the Property Taxes on my place in Canada. I tried for an age unsuccessfully to log into my bank account, only to discover that I was trying to access Scotia Bank Trinidad and Tobago rather than Scotia Bank Canada.

Once I’d found the correct bank, everything went really smoothly. I do like how easy it is to make payments and so on in the Canadian banking system

It’s not so easy making payments on-line in France to the French Government.

The French Government has at long last started a system of on-line payments where you can pay your bills via internet rather than sending a cheque. I went to set it up for me this afternoon, but it’s not easy.

The logical way to organise payments is to index everything by reference to a person’s identity card number, so you can log in, see your account, see what’s owing and pay it off all at once with just one payment.

Instead, everything is indexed by invoice number, so if you have more than one bill to pay, as I did, you have to log in more than once, entering all of your details, including card details, more than once, and it takes an age.

What makes life even more complicated is that it asks you to enter certain details from the invoices into certain boxes on the computer screen, and the names don’t correspond. You have to use some intuitive guesswork to figure it all out.

But what am I going to do about my place in Canada?

it was an inspired decision to buy it because all you need when dealing with Canadian administration is a Property Tax Assessment. I could open bank accounts, buy pick-ups, obtain insurance, have mobile phones, all of that, simply on production of a Property Tax Assessment and it eased my passage (if you’ll pardon the expression) around Canada.

But I’m never going to use it now and it’s just going to sit there with the apples falling off the trees year after year until the cows come home unless my niece goes up there to pick them up.

But while we’re talking about Canada … "well, one of us is" – ed … I wonder how Strider is getting on with his new owners. We travelled miles together, him, me and STRAWBERRY MOOSE. I hope that they are looking afer him.

And that reminds me – I told my niece to dispose of most of the stuff that was in there – tools, camping gear, expedition equipment and so on – but there was a Fender bass and amp in there that I used that I wanted her to keep for me. I need to think of a way of bringing them over here.

The cleaner came round this afternoon for her Friday cleaning spot, bringing my mushrooms and tomatoes with her. I retreated into my bedroom while she was here but I actually had a fall while I was in the bathroom. Luckily the chair was in my way and I fell onto that, otherwise it could have been nasty

There was some stuff on the dictaphone too, surprisingly. I had several Ford Corsairs in my drive last night. One of them was driven away and I can’t remember where it went. Someone else borrowed a set of my number-plates but hadn’t brought them back and I was becoming rather concerned about that. Anyway there was some more car-swapping that needed to be done. I had to bring another Ford Cortina into my drive. That was parked in Gainsborough Road so I had to go down there to it, start it and bring it back. That was a Safari Beige colour but I was thinking that if I were to paint it blue I could put on the number-plates that this guy had borrowed because they belonged to a blue estate. I could make a set of plates but what would be the position if someone saw both vehicles, mine and the one on which presumably the guy had put the plates, and noticed that there were two vehicles with the same set of plates? What would my neighbours say if I were to turn up with yet another car after I’d just had one taken away somewhere? I got into the Cortina Estate. The clutch was right down on the floor and it was difficult to start. I thought that I better hadn’t leave vehicles lying around for so long without actually starting them up otherwise I’m just going to make myself a lot of problems

This is something of a recurring dream, isn’t it, having Cortinas scattered all around the town. It’s just like in real life when I actually did, including a beige Cortina estate and a blue one too.

But swapping over number plates from one car to another? And VIN plates too? I look back on those years with amazement and wonder how on earth I managed to keep clear of some serious trouble. Six months at Her Majesty’s Pleasure would have been nothing. I had to stop and leave the country because those years were catching up on me rather rapidly

My excuse was though that when you are up to your neck in alligators, it’s hard to realise that you are really trying to drain the swamp. Taking drastic and rapid steps to solve short-term issues can lead to some really long-term problems further down the line.

It’s a surprise though having Ford Corsairs around the place for a change. I didn’t think that it would be too long though before a Cortina or two appeared.

So this afternoon I’ve chosen some more music for another radio programme and began to pair it off before tea but I ran out of time, mainly due to going away with the fairies for an hour or so. And miles away too, it has to be said.

But tea was lovely – the last Kale and Quinoa burger from Noz, and I’ll have to find a way of making those because they were nice, especially in breadcrumbs.

Last of the home-made mayonnaise too, although it might not have been had I used a more convenient container. Still, you live and learn.

However, the mayonnaise was an unqualified success. It was too thick and I’d used too much garlic, but those are minor problems. The principle was perfect and tomorrow, I’ll make some more, having learned from my first batch.

So what with that and making hot cross buns on Sunday it looks as if I’m going to be in for a busy weekend. And it’ll do me good right now because I seem to be doing too much of nothing right now.

So what else can I make while I’m at it? I shall have to pick Liz’s brains, and I’ll welcome any suggestions from anyone else too

But before I go, the story of my mayonnaise in the wrong bottle reminds me of that aerosol that came onto the market in the 70s. The publicity for it went something like "enough paint to cover 70 square metres of panelling"
And someone wrote underneath the advert "and enough propellant to get just about a quarter of it out of the can"

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Sunday 14th January 2024 – GUESS WHO…

… spent several hours in the Casualty department of the local hospital here in Granville last night?

What at first had appeared to be just a dull, throbbing pain though the part of my right leg that can actually feel anything, I could feel it going worse and worse as the evening continued and I began to freeze.

Once in bed, the pain increased and I began to shiver violently. I can recognise the symptoms of severe shock just as well as anyone else and with no improvement with the passage of time (quite the reverse, as it happened), in the end I gave up and phoned my cleaner who lives upstairs.

She was down here in an instant and one look was all that it took. She phoned up the emergency number and we all had a very lengthy chat with three different people before they decided to send an ambulance.

While we were waiting she, following my instructions, packed my emergency bag which she promised to bring during the day, and then she helped the ambulancemen, one of whom I knew, take me to their vehicle. And that wasn’t easy either, 25 steps and no lift.

Once I arrived, I told my story to four different people, one after the other after the other, while the pain was increasing and increasing, and then I was x-rayed with my leg and foot being twisted into some of the most painful positions imaginable, without even the suggestion of a painkiller.

Wheeled out of the x-ray cabinet on a stretcher far too small for me, I was told to “get some rest” which, as you can imagine, on a tiny stretcher with a painful leg overhanging into a void and with no painkiller or anything, was pretty much impossible.

Eventually, they came back, told me that the x-rays showed no breaks, gave me a couple of painkillers and said that the ambulance will be back shortly to pick me up and take me home.

And lifting me up 25 steps with no lift was no laughing matter either for the poor ambulancemen, but I was back in bed in a state of semi-comatose stupefaction (and drugged up to the eyebrows too) by 05:00.

Liz had a chat with me at about 08:45 on the internet but I was talking utter nonsense and fell asleep again, to awaken at 12:45.

The painkillers had worn off by then but I had some more around here. I hate using painkillers because while you’re walking around on damaged bone and tissue, you don’t realise the damage that you are doing. But in my case, the right leg is damaged enough so it makes no difference.

It’s a good job that it’s not my left leg that I hurt. I really would be in difficulty. But even so, the damaged nerve in my right leg that gives me those stabbing pains in the soles of my foot that I thought that I’d dealt with is now back again, and in spades too.

After my delicious soup, bread and coffee (and it really was too) I transcribed the dictaphone notes. Yes, to my surprise there were some, but none of the young lady who was here or hereabouts last night. But we did have various musicians with us, including someone from IN THE LAND OF GREY AND PINK, un autre groupe … "dreaming in French again, are we?" – ed … who played in front of us. I leant over too far for something and ended up with my right knee totally collapsed just as the football was finishing. I had to watch the first two chapters on my foot but my right arm was really depressed and unstable. I’ve not able to be visited by my mother-in-law about the cables everywhere yet but when I’m too ill to see The Land Of Grey And Pink … fell asleep here … and the chairwoman as I said called the meeting to order and sent me off for these things

And then some woman was being investigated by the Tax Office for some kind of irregularities in connection with a hairdressing salon. It turned out that many years ago she’d also been the subject of an investigation in respect of a chip shop somewhere in Bradwell in Newcastle under Lyme. Quite naturally, having fallen foul of the Tax Office twice they were being quite severe with her. This investigation had been going on and I’d been asked if I would like to take part in part of it. I went along to see the people there at the Tax Office but for some reason they were extremely busy and never had the time really to talk to me. I just sat there and listened. I knew that the information that they were discussing was wrong but what business of it was mine? The interesting part about this was that they came out with something that was called “The Secret Root”. I didn’t have a clue what the Secret Root was. It turned out that it was some kind of secret and unofficial percentage that the Tax Office uses to bind all transactions together, bearing in mind of course that people have business relationships with each other and that all transactions are somehow interlinked. Back several years ago the figure of the Secret Root was 3.9 but now it was 3.1 and that made a difference to some of the calculations that had been made. I was sitting here really interested because I’d never heard of this Secret Root before. I was intent on finding out more about it because it sounded quite so interesting so I didn’t even bother to mention what it was that I’d come along here to discuss. I just sat there and listened while they were discussing this Secret Root.

One or two people who follow this blog know about my relationship with the local Tax Office in Crewe and I’d tell the rest of you about it, except that a certain law called the Obscene Publications Act is still in force. As well as that, there are certain well-enforced Laws of Libel in the UK and the site that deals with the administration of this blog has terms and conditions about its use.

So instead, let me just ask you what the Tax Office and a pelican have in common.
The answer is that that they can both shove their bills up their @rses

There was no pizza dough left in the freezer so I had to make some more. But Rosemary called me just as I was starting and I ended up being all behind. To make matters worse, I used the wrong flour so the base for the one that I baked wasn’t as good as it might have been.

It was still quite delicious though, as I found out when I came to eat it. And I’m sure that the two in the freezer will do just the same.

So doped up to the eyebrows in painkillers and falling asleep, I’m off to bed. And I’ll try to keep out of mischief while I do it. I can’t go through this again.

But final word on the subject of last night must go to my cleaner.

Having called her at some silly hour to come to my rescue, I apologised for waking her.
"Ohh, I wasn’t asleep" she said. "I was watching TV when you phoned"
"Then I hope that I didn’t make you miss anything interesting" I said.
"Don’t you worry about that" she said. "What goes on in your apartment is far more interesting than anything that I could see on TV."

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Saturday 13th January 2024 – “IT SOUNDS TOO …

… good to be true”.

Yes, doesn’t it just?

There I was, lying awake, watching the clock on my fitbit tick round and round. 05:35 came round certainly – I saw it and watched it. And a few other times too.

It seems that even being a passenger in a car, never mind the driver, is having this effect on me. In the old days, as I have mentioned previously… "and on many occasions too" – ed … I’d go for a good run before going to bed in order to ease the stress, but I can’t even go for a good walk these days.

And even less so, starting from this afternoon

There was football on the internet, Cardiff Metropolitan v Caernarfon, and I watched the first half on my knees. I’d tripped over something coming into the bedroom and ended up flat on my knees. It took me 50 minutes before I could invent a means of standing up.

My right leg, which was bad before, is now completely impossible. I’d tell you more but there’s no feeling in it as you know. I’ll have to wait until I go to the Centre de Re-education on Tuesday to find out just how bad it is.

The good news (and there has been some today and, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, it’s been a long time since I’ve had any) is that my leek and potato soup was cooked to perfection and the home-made bread rolls were delicious too

For tonight’s meal, the oven chips cooked in the air fryer were done to absolute perfection too so the meal of salad, chips and one of those soya steaks in breadcrumbs was wonderful

Not so much the bread pudding. That was definitely the worse for wear after my week away from home so that’s now pushing up the daisies. But me no daft, me no silly, I’d cut a big pudding into 4 large sliced and there are still 3 in the freezer.

So meanwhile, back at the ran … err … bed I checked the dictaphone when I finally did awaken at 09:50 and there was tons of stuff on it.

We started off with me playing bass and singing in a rock group with a guitarist, my friend from the Wirral on rhythm guitar and a drummer, and we were playing a concert in a pub somewhere in Crewe. Neither the gear nor the van had arrived. It was my friend from the Wirral who was driving it. He eventually turned up, much to the applause of the audience and much to our relief, about an hour late, and we set up our instruments. My friend from the Wirral just sat on the floor, refused to move, refused to stand up and refused to play. He was known for having his moody fits and outbursts and was just in one of them at the moment. In the end the guitarist and I just shrugged our shoulders and began to play. We began to play BORN TO BE WILD. When I awoke I was actually singing it, live on stage, something that took me completely by surprise.

This dream is famous for several things.

Firstly, I did have a friend like that. He would freeze in times of stress and would be totally incapable of acting if a problem arose. On several occasions his friends have had to rally round and help him out of his problems.

Secondly, I was always happier playing in a power trio of drummer, guitarist and me. I had a very good drummer with whom I had a good rapport and we as a rhythm section played in several bands. But every time a fourth (or fifth) member came along, it usually dissoived into chaos.

One thing though, was that I loved to sing but the guitarist with whom I was most associated was also a singer who loved to sing so my chances were few and far between, even though I actually owned the PA that we used (a 200-watt Hiwatt amp with 2x 4×12″ columns and several treble horns).

There’s a story behind those horns too. I wanted a set and there was a pair advertised in the Manchester Evening News at an address in Stockport so we went round hot-foot. And who should open the door but Graham Gouldman, songwriter and bassist at Strawberry Studios down the road from there.

On the subject of people called Graham, I hear that Grahame and STRAWBERRY MOOSE have been having a lively chat via e-mail today.

But thirdly, there’s something that I really don’t understand about this dream is that although I didn’t dictate it, we had another person up on that stage for a while. And I know that we did because I even remember introducing her to the public, the words that I used to introduce her, and the songs that we played.

Anyone care to guess who it was?

When I introduced her to the public from the stage in Crewe as she came up and put on her guitar, I used her real name (not the name by which she is known in these pages), I mentioned her age (which is something that I would absolutely not do these days for anyone) and so asked the audience to “be gentle with her, because I am gentle with her”, something that might have raised a good laugh 50 years ago but would be an absolutely outrageous thing to say today.

We played several numbers that we had worked on together on THE GOOD SHIP VE … errr … OCEAN ENDEAVOUR (so you’ve probably guessed now who she was) including that one by Green Day … "BOULEVARD OF BROKEN DREAMS" – ed … where that young Inuit boy on board joined in with us.

But what’s astonishing about this is that she put in an appearance and I didn’t dictate it. The other week when I mentioned that my subconscious must be creating a barrier between me and certain people, I wasn’t sure that I was being serious.

After last night’s escapade, I am now. And what I would like to know is how many times and for how long has it been doing that.

One of the most extraordinary things that came out of this exercise that we do about dreams was the girl who dreamt that she could run around in the fields and forests even though she was born without legs and had never un an inch in her life. But this can’t be far behind that.

What happened after this was pretty banal by these kinds of standards. I was part of a delegation that went to South Korea to a military air base there to discuss the products of our company with some people from the Korean military. One night while we were there the guests inn the bar were Widespread Panic. Of course, we went. There was a problem with the cash machine in the restaurant where the concert was to take place. It kept on ringing up ice cream as “various” and charging a purely nominal amount for it so of course we were ordering ice cream all the way through the night like most people would order a beer. We were eating tons of it and I was sure that we would be sick next morning. When we returned it showed the bill from this night at the restaurant had twice as many ices as we had ordered. Instead of there being three for some rounds there had been six. The accounts department was extremely concerned and called us in. I explained that at some part of the night another three people had noticed what we were doing and came over to talk to us. They joined in this ice cream orgy. The accounts department then asked why it was that we considered it to be appropriate that their ice cream should be added to our bill. I explained that these three people were in fact a delegation from Airbus there to see the Korean military too. We were of the opinion that it would be a good idea to entertain them to ice cream because it could open a lot of doors for our company in the UK and France which otherwise would never ever open to anyone. That seemed to settle the matter and everyone seemed quite happy. A few of our colleagues were surprised and disappointed and questioned the bill but that was more out of jealously than anything else.

I’ll have to stop leaning over to where my dictaphone would be in Paris. Anyway Nerina and I had gone on a boat trip around the harbour in St Helier and the Channel Islands area. It was one of these large motor yacht type of things that would carry a dozen couples or something. We boarded it and it set off. We were given something of a running commentary. We noticed that there were plenty of kids up at the front, fishing out of the water all kinds of plastic like old buckets, fishing buoys, jerry cans etc, trying to clean up the harbour. Anything that they noticed, they pulled out. I went to have a look. There were loads of letters there too so I began to fish them out. Many of them were addressed to me so I was quickly collecting a pocketful. There were some addressed to others and looked quite important. In the meantime this guy was busy talking. We noticed that one or two of the couples were actually jumping into the water, swimming around and then catching up the boat. For some reason Nerina and I jumped in and we had a great time splashing around in the harbour. We suddenly realised that the boat was a long way from us by now so we had to swim like hell to catch up with it. I was pulling out more letters from the water at the same time. Eventually we managed to climb aboard. She climbed up the steps at the back and asked me how I came on board. I pointed out a ladder that was there on the rear corner of the boat that she obviously hadn’t seen. We sat down again and I began to open these letters. There was one that was from Poland and had a diplomatic stamp on it. I wondered what this was all about. I managed to open it discreetly. There was a return envelope inside, a pre-stamped one with a Polish diplomatic pass stamp on it addressed to someone at our address urging them to make their donation to their war relief as quickly as possible. I showed it to Nerina to ask her what she thought about it. We sat there puzzling over it.

And as if I’d ever want to swim around in the harbour of St Helier. I’ve seen what’s pumped into there.

The soup was, as I said, delicious.

  • chop a small onion and fry it in olive oil and butter
  • add a couple of garlic cloves with coriander and chives
  • when these are browned and smell nice, add in your finely chopped leeks and potatoes, and stir round to fry for 10 minutes
  • add just enough water to cover, add a stock cube and leave to slow boil (with the lid on) until the potatoes and leeks are really mushy
  • add some soya cream
  • remove from the heat and whizz up with your whizzer
  • then eat with the fresh bread that you prepared earlier and baked while all of the above was going on

As for quantities – leeks and potatoes, how many do you have that need to be used?
And the rest – it’s all down to taste.

There had been some washing going on while all of this was happening so after lunch I hung it up to dry.

Then I … errr … had a little relax.

Watching the football from the floor was a new experience, although I managed to pull myself upright by half-time. Caernarfon had to do better against Cardiff Metropolitan than Hwlllffordd did against Y Bala in order to qualify for the playoffs for a European place next season.

And in a pulsating game that roared from end to end with Caernarfon’s new signing from Porthmadog, Morgan Owen, having an outstanding game, they were still 2-1 down with minutes to go while Hwllffordd were 2-1 up.

But in wild drama at the end, first Danny Gosset scored an equaliser for Caernarfon with just minutes to go, and then down in West Wales Y Bala scored 2 quick goals .

So it’s Caernarfon who push on for Europe while Hwllffordd have to join the fight against relegation.

Tea as I said was excellent so now as I’m cold and in total agony from my knee, I’m off to bed.

Will the young lady from last night come to join me for the second half of our gig? Or will it be someone new?

And more to the point, if my subconscious really is trying to block out some people from visiting me, I can name half a dozen for a start and my subconscious can block them out starting tonight, with my full permission and pleasure.

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Monday 30th October 2023 – OHHH! THE EMBARRASSMENT!

This morning I fell in my apartment, and I couldn’t pick myself up again. I had to rely on my cleaner to pick me up and put me on a seat.

What I was trying to do was to tidy up the bedroom but my foot slipped on the parquet floor and I ended up on my knee. And it was only a few weeks ago that I could stand up from a kneeling position if I had something to cling on to. But not any longer.

However at least I was able to pull myself up from bed this morning without any assistance – including any assistance of the alarm. I put that down to the change in time that took place on Sunday morning.

After the medication I came in here to type a letter. My cleaner was off into town so I wanted to send her with a letter to the doctor to find out where I have to go for this cardiac examination and to ask for a transport voucher to take me there.

And it was tidying up in here ready for the cleaner to come down for the letter that I had my issues.

After she’d gone I had plenty of phone calls to make. Caliburn is being picked up on Thursday, and I’ve sorted out some banking issues, including requesting documents that I need for this claim for assistance.

There was a load of stuff that I did, and there is probably more to do too.

There was plenty of stuff on the dictaphone from the night but I couldn’t remember much of it. I was in the middle of an enormous, lengthy dream that involved taxi licences. There had been two taxi licences issued for each small town in some kind of area. As the licences were occasionally handed back someone came along to pick them up and develop them. But I can’t remember any more about it than this because I had quite a dramatic awakening in the middle of this lengthy dream.

Then later on there was something about hospitals, military hospitals being used by some Middle-Eastern guerillas who were fighting for their land from a corrupt Government. Just as this dream was setting off I awoke yet again.

At another point there were two of us, me and someone else, driving in one of these big American articulated lorries along an Interstate highway somewhere, checking our maps and making our arrangements. The guy who was driving turned to his radio to announce that we were going to come off here to head down to the border. Once we arrive, maybe we’d stop for food but if he felt like it he might come off and instead, cut across country south-west and head for a different State border that way. We pushed on, left the Interstate and carried on driving. We came to the rest area where we were going to stop. My niece’s daughter was there. She asked about the recording of a concert. I said that I’d managed to record it and had it on CD. She asked if she could have it. I said that I needed it – obviously I’d recorded it because I wanted it but I could copy it for her if she had a spare CD that I could copy it on to. She hadn’t but she said that she could give me a different concert by this group that was shorter but I said that that still wouldn’t solve the problem because I still wouldn’t have the original concert that I wanted.

Looking at that dream, or, should I say, reading it again, it reminds me of the many times that I’ve rolled up and down Interstate 95 stopping off for home fries, beans and toast at Dysart’s Truckstop near Bangor and that famous night when a bus-load of cheerleaders dressed for action dropped in while we were filling our faces.

There was also that legendary trip in 2017 when Strider STRAWBERRY MOOSE and I went to see Rhys, my friend from University, down in South Carolina and then we crossed over into Georgia just to say that we’d been and then came back up the Outer Banks and over Long island Sound, then back up I-95.

Jackson Browne sang about DRIVING DOWN THE 295 OUT OF PORTLAND, MAINE – the “295” being the ring road that takes I-95 around Portland and if you listen very carefully, you’ll hear the tour bus that he was on while he was playing his guitar.

One thing that I missed was that I never ever had the chance to drive an 18-wheel rig down one of the Interstates. The biggest vehicle that I ever drove down I-95 was a 7.5 tonne GMC flatbed taking a big V8 engine from Canada to Weare in New Hampshire for reconditioning.

Still, the way things are, I suppose that that will have to do.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … , bed there had been another dream in which a woman wearing a red jumper was being followed around by a tall, older guy, some kind of down-and-out. It was clear that he had mental health issues but wasn’t a particular danger but it was extremely uncomfortable for this girl. One day he followed her into her office. She decided that she would skip out and wait for the guy to be tackled but he wandered into the room where she worked. He asked if anyone had seem the woman in the red jumper. Someone said “she’s gone down to the canteen for her lunch” to which he replied ‘that’s a shame. I have no money for any lunch” which sent some kind of alarm signal that made the other people in the room begin to think that this was a situation that wasn’t quite correct.

The rest of the day has been spent writing notes for the next radio programme, having paired off the music earlier. I’ve almost finished all of the notes for that one now. There was also time to review and send off the programme that will be broadcast this coming weekend.

Tea was a stuffed pepper – slightly singed but nice enough nevertheless with vegetables and pasta.

So lots to do tomorrow, including a Welsh class, a few forms to fill in, a few phone calls to make and a Re-Education course to begin.

But looking at some of the notes that I’ve been dictating and typing recently, I seem to be spending far more time looking backwards rather than looking forwards. I suppose that it’s normal, what with things being the way they are and that I only have memories to look forward to.

It reminds me of AE Housman
"Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again."

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Wednesday 11th October 2023 – I ALMOST FELL …

… out of the bath this afternoon. as I was climbing out, my right knee gave way again and luckily I was able to grab hold of the shelving unit before I hit the ground.

Not that it’s any surprise. I was wondering how long it would be before I actually fell over in here. I’ve been expecting it for quite a while.

But I’ll tell you one thing for nothing – and that is that I was right about what I’ve been thinking. I’ve had the idea for quite a while that each time the leg folds up it seems to make things worse subsequently. And that certainly seems to be the case today.

Not that things could be much worse actually. It was yet another miserable night although while I had the pain in my foot again, I didn’t have all of the burning in the lower leg. But whatever it was, it still kept me awake for much of the night.

When the alarm went off I was nevertheless fast asleep and had something of a battle to leave the bed.

After I’d had my medication and checked my mails and messages it took me a good while to come round into the Land of the Living and then I sorted out the rest of the food that needed to be put away.

And there was quite a bit of it too. It’s not exactly that I’ve gone berserk but I need a minimum order of €50:00 before they deliver so I’ve had to think about things that I’ll need sooner or later when it comes to making up a large enough order.

Next stop was to transcribe the dictaphone notes from the night. And there was an enormous pile of it too. I was with someone who might have been Captain Povey from the Navy Lark last night. he was telling everyone about how his wife had gone on a course and afterwards he was intending to apply for a course so he could go to join her, which was met with a great deal of guffaw from a lot of people. The scene then moved to Crewe, a railway station. But to reach the railway station you had to go down what was called the Horse Landing last night. They’d extended the station out from the main part of the building to that particular point. All the vehicles. All the vehicles were driving down the Horse Landing to drop off. As we watched, there were two old Mark II Consuls or Zephyrs. One was being driven by a woman. Both the vehicles picked up fares at the same time at the bus stop and both were to go down to the railway station. One got away quite quickly but the other was in all kinds of problems. It took a good deal of time to actually depart. It then put its indicator out to turn left down the Horse Landing. It was a standard series II big Ford like that with a roof bar with the taxi sign. I was interested to know that the indicators weren’t on the bar but where they normally would be, on the bodywork. I thought that that would make life confusing as they would be less visible than if they would be up on the top where everyone could see them.

Later on I was at another railway station that was all built in wood. It was in beautiful repair and the colours were all reds and yellows and lilacs, it all went really well together. To access it you had to walk round by a car park somewhere where there were bus stands, crush barriers etc. Even though it was no real practical plan, the fact that it was a beautiful building, I loved actually going there to it and walking around down the path that led to the front door.

It had been hot, miserable and sweaty while I was having the other dream just now but when I started to think that I’d roll the bedclothes back it was cold but it became a really nice environment for me to sit back, relax and sleep which might sound strange because there was nothing happening. Just me and the cool breeze here trying to sleep.

And then I was back in that dream at that pretty wooden station again. A vehicle began to reverse across the car park and made the people crossing there dodge for the pavement. One woman wasn’t quick enough and the bus almost hit her. She fell to the ground and her fibre mug of coffee went everywhere. In the end the crowd called out for the driver to stop. Luckily he did so before he ran over the woman. That would have been painful if she’d actually ended up underneath it.

We were back in an earlier dream where I’d been visiting some kind of hotel. Several members of my family were there but weren’t actually involved in it. I’d gone to my little sister’s room to have a look round and for one or two things while she wasn’t there. I was quite distracted so I left everything as it was, including some of my things there while I went to do what else needed doing. But time caught up with me and I could hear all kinds of people moving around in the building. I thought that I’d better run back to her room to collect all my things and hurry back to my room. One of the things that I had in that room was STRAWBERRY MOOSE and he wasn’t very easy to smuggle down the corridor so I was looking for a towel in which to wrap him so that I could pretend that he was a bundle of clothes. As usual, every time I organised something it created 2 other problems. Going forward to gather my things and leave the room as quickly as possible, there were just more and more things coming along to delay me. I felt that at any moment now I’d be caught and have to explain what I’m doing.

We were back in that hotel where I’d been just now. We were preparing to leave so we effectively left, but we’d left behind all our things. In the end we went back. The room in which my sister had stayed was an absolute mess. There was all amount of stuff everywhere. My brother had been sharing the room too so there were things of his there. At that moment the receptionist knocked at the door to ask about breakfast. She saw the state of the room and made some kind of commentary so I thought that we’d better start to pack it up. I was holding up clothes etc asking “whose is this?” and throwing them to the person concerned. By now my sister had transformed into Zero and she was now being an extremely busy bee, dashing around getting all her things together. Every time she had a bag prepared she’d rush off downstairs with it and then rush back upstairs again for the next one. This was going on quite quickly and the room was being emptied quite quickly. I had a smile, and her parents saw me smiling. They asked me why so I explained that I’d met a girl a few years ago who would have been Zero’s age now. I could see exactly the same characteristics, exactly the same behaviour and it’s really funny to think that even though they come from opposite sides of the World they seem to have become clones of each other. That was what was making me smile.

So hello again to Zero. It was nice to see her again. And strangely enough, when I was on a ferry across the Strait of Belle Isle between Newfoundland and Labrador, I did bump into a girl who would have been the spiting image of an “a few years-older Zero”. And there was also the girl in the café in Brussels.

For the rest of the day I finished the radio programme that I’d started yesterday. That took an effort to align because it ended up over-running by quite a distance and I had to do some hefty editing

In between, I went to have a shower and to meet my fate as I climbed out At least, though, I’m nice and clean. But what I’m going to do is to look for some plastic boxes that I can use as steps to climb in and out of the bath until I can make a better arrangement. I’m disappointed that I’ve had no reply as yet to my letter to the doctor.

While the cleaner was here I wrote the notes for part of another radio programme. But we also had a good chat, part of which was that I’ll tell her and the other housebound inhabitant of the building when I’m next about to order from the supermarket.

If I can persuade them to add in their orders to mine, I can make up the €50:00 without having to go mad myself, help out everyone else and the delivery charge is the same no matter how much I order so it makes no real difference to me.

For tea tonight I had a left-over curry, and I made some naan bread dough seeing as I now have some soya yogurt. And it really did taste nice too

So much later than usual, I’m going to bed. Tomorrow I have a few letters to write and a few radio programmes to prepare. The if the doctor isn’t going to reply, I’ll need to sort out a train and a couple of taxis to go to the hospital. I don’t want to leave myself stranded.

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Saturday 3rd June 2023 – I’VE HAD ANOTHER …

… really bad fall today.

And this one is the worst that I’ve had. Even worse than the one on the boat coming back from Jersey last summer.

And not only that, it’s much more worrying too. usually what happens is that all of a sudden there’s no sensation at all in my right leg and when I put my foot down I simply fall over gently as if there’s no leg there.

However today, it was the left leg, my good (or maybe I should say less bad) leg, there was a stabbing pain all the way up my left leg and I had a really heavy fall.

It happened on the car park at Noz and I wasn’t able to stand up afterwards. I had to crawl on my hands and knees to Caliburn and lean on him to help me up.

Right now, I can’t move without being on crutches and each time I try to stand up or put my leg in an unusual position the pain comes back.

It’s not a “broken leg” type of pain but definitely a muscle or nerve issue. I’ll have to wait until the physio next comes to see me and have a chat with him. In the meantime I’ll be taking it easy

Not that I took it easy during the night. I stayed up until I finished the notes for the day in Canada 2017 on which I’d been working so that I could go to bed with a clean slate.

But once more, we seem to be back in the “tossing and turning during the night” stages. I thought that we’d got over all of that, but apparently not.

When the alarm went off this morning I was fast asleep again and it was a struggle to beat the second alarm.

There were a few things that I needed to do before setting out and then Caliburn and I went out to the shops.

And today I didn’t buy a thing at Noz. It really was a waste of time going and had I known how it would turn out I wouldn’t have gone at all.

At LeClerc I bought everything that I needed (although I bet that I’ve forgotten something) and then went to the appliances department in a separate building to buy a gas cylinder for my sodastream

Back here I had a fight with the freezer to fit in the beans that I’d bought and then settled down with my coffee and cheese on toast.

Regrettably, I crashed out for a while too. That’s becoming a habit, it seems, whenever I go out and about.

There was some stuff on the dictaphone from the night. I was a passenger on a coach trip with a young girl, someone like my youngest sister. We were in like a ballroom place sitting down talking. There were all kinds of things happening. We’d left the room for some reason but when we returned the band was just striking up a waltz. I grabbed hold of whoever I was with and we waltzed into the room. We were the only couple on the dance floor. my friend from Germany was there so she took her husband and they began to dance. We began to have a ballroom dance-type of thing. My partner wasn’t particularly good but I was able to guide her around somewhat. It began to be a nice pleasant evening.

Later on there was a family, something like the Lyons (as in “Life of Lyons”) family who lived at 222 some street or other. One of their children had to go to the radio centre to introduce a radio show. I went to pick him up. First of all I was surprised. I was expecting mansions, all this kind of thing but they were just modern terraced houses in a big square. I drove around and found the house. What was interesting here was that there was no front door. The living room overflowed into a common area. The doors behind went into the kitchens and bedrooms. I could hear the children talking in there. I recognised the voices so I went and knocked on the door leading to the back and they began to come out.

At that moment though I had a horrible attack of cramp in my left calf and that awoke me so I’ll never know how that would have ended..

Finally I had to go to a Tax Office last night to take all my papers. The first thing that I had to do was to take a plastic bag in which to put everything. There was a big pile of them. I took one that implied that I was Moroccan. I don’t know why I did that. I put all my papers in and had to join this queue. There were probably 20 clerks sitting at a long desk. You just went to stand at the desk and one of them would talk to you. I handed all the papers of my employment to her. I was marked down as “leaving definitively”. I had to hand in another certificate to the guy sitting next to this girl. He looked at it and said “we already have these. You didn’t need to bring this”. I replied “I bring everything anyway”. he began to go through all my paperwork with the girl. he asked me “do you have any more income with the Commonwealth?”. I replied “no”.

The rest of the day has been spent feeling sorry for myself and writing up the notes for the next day’s walk (in the days when I could walk) around Québec.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that years ago I wrote something about THE CHEMIN DU ROY from Montreal to Québec. I started from Repentigny because I wasn’t sure of the route out of Montreal but over time I traced the route and so I was on foot from the centre of the town out as far as the Jacques Cartier Bridge and a little bit futher east.

And one thing that I’ve often wondered. In North America most of the landmarks are named for the first European who actually saw them. I always wondered what Jacques Cartier must have said when he sailed up the St Lawrence to what in those days was the Iroquois settlement of Hochelaga in 1535 and saw that massive bridge.

There was a burger that had been in the fridge for a while and when I inspected it this evening I decided that the best thing to do with it would be to file it under CS. Consequently I had a further fight with the freezer and put one of the two remaining lasagne slices in there to keep

The other one, I ate tonight with a vegan salad and it was all extremely delicious. I’m really impressed with that lasagne, that’s for sure.

Not so impressed with my health though. It seems that I only have to think about going back to the Land of my Great Grandfather and I have a bad fall, just like last year.

However that time, I ignored it and went all the same, and look how that turned out. I think that my body is trying to tell me something.

What I’ll do for now is to carry on around the Port of Montreal ship-spotting and when things quieten down, dictate some radio notes that I’ve prepared.

No alarm tomorrow. I’ll have a good lie-in. But I have to be a-baking though. I’ve run out of fruit buns. No idea where I’m going to put the ones that need to be stored though. We’re back to where we were ages ago with not even the hint of a place to put stuff

Well, it’ll all work out somehow. It usually does. I just wish that I would.

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Friday 12th May 2023 – AS BARRY HAY …

… once famously said – “What else can I say except IT’S ALWAYS GOOD TO BE BACK HOME“

As I have said before … “and on many occasions too” – ed … out of all of the places where I have ever lived, the only place where I’ve ever experienced homesickness when I’ve been away is this beautiful building here with the spectacular scenery and wonderful neighbours.

Mind you, it was a struggle to get back here. having crowed so lustily about the outward trip, the return was nothing like the same.

It always seems to be at railway stations where it all seems to go wrong, as witness my rather dramatic and spectacular fall on a railway station in Montreal in October.

And so it was today. To pass through the automatic barriers at the Metro at the Gare du Nord in Paris you have to move smartly. I wasn’t smart enough and ended up being trapped as the barriers closed between me and my backpack. It took the combined efforts of three passers-by to free me from my trap.

And the struggle was clearly far too much for me because I had another bad fall straight away afterwards, and a couple of people had to pick me up because I couldn’t pick myself up.

One of the guys was going my way so he took my backpack and helped me onto the Metro as far as Montparnasse. Ahh well.

As usual, when I have a reason to leave the bed, I have a fitful restless night. And so it was last night. But when the alarm went off at 06:25 I was up quite quickly.

Once I’d packed, I was down to the railway station and as usual with the SNCB it was an antediluvian AM80 that came in this morning and I have all kinds of difficulties climbing into one of those. And climbing out at Gare du Midi in Brussels too.

The TGV was already in but they wouldn’t let us board for ages. And we had a “security issue” that delayed the loading even more.

The train did however set off on time and I spent the journey doing some research for my High Arctic photos of 2019. And you have to admire the naming conventions of James Rae as he roamed around the High Arctic explaining his reasons for the names that he gave to the geographical features that he encountered, such as, for example, Bence Jones Island in the Rae Strait “after the distinguished medical man and analytical chemist of that name, to whose kindness I and my party were much indebted for having proposed the use of, and prepared, some extract of tea for the expedition.’”.

One of the Inuit ladies I encountered on Devon Island gave me some of her native Labrador Tea to try. I shall probably have to name my new apartment after her because the tea was “much enjoyed”. She was so pleased that I enjoyed it that she performed a drum dance for STRAWBERRY MOOSE and I’m sure that you think that I’m making this up.

At the Gare du Nord I had my “issues” but with an aching leg and wounded pride I made it down the Rue du Départ to Montparnasse and my train without encountering anyone I know. And with catching a later train out of Brussels this morning I didn’t have long to wait.

The train was acually half-empty but for some reason they had me sharing a seat with someone. But once I was sure that evryone who was on was on, I went across the gangway and had a seat all to myself.

At Granville we pulled into one of the older platforms that the Caen-Rennes diesels use and with our train being higher you’ve no idea the struggle that I had to exit the train.

The leg is definitely weakened though because hauling myself into Caliburn was a struggle and I was back to how I was in January without the force to press the brake pedal properly. As I’ve said before, each time that I have a fall, it takes longer and longer to recover.

back here I made a nice strong coffee and came in here to collapse in a chair, from where I didn’t move for hours.

Earlier on, I mentioned my restless night. Tons of stuff on the dictaphone to prove it too. I’d bought a property last night. I’d paid a lot of money for it but I could afford it. It was in rural Normandy somewhere. We were discussing plans to move into it etc but I wanted to have a closer look at what was involved. I managed to dig up an old sale brochure for it from years ago where there was a house, an annexe and a Plaxton Embassy-bodied coach that had been converted into a race car transporter with some kind of car that had been modified for racing. There was a big garage and workshop area. I thought that this was absolutely fine if I could find someone else to come to share it with me. We’d be away with all of this if it turns out to be the same kind of place.

Someone wanted a letter posting but for various reasons they weren’t able to do it. They asked me if I would go. After much persuasion I went on the pushbike. The first thing that I noticed was that there were no brakes on it. I thought that I’d be really running a risk going all the way to the post box particularly as I’d have to cycle through Crewe town centre. But cycle I did, nearly knocking people over, taking wide turns and nearly ending up on the wrong side of the traffic island. I eventually reached the cinema which was absolutely packed because there was an extremely controversial film being shown. There were 2 pillar poxes outside, one of which had a stamp machine attached. I didn’t know which pillar box to put the letter because the time of the collections was exactly the same. It looked as if they were both receiving the correct attention. In the end I simply put it in the newer one of the two.

And then I was in a fast-food restaurant last night in the USA. I tool a banana. There was a guy there mopping the floor. He took three bananas and put them on the scales with mine. I told him to clear off and it led to a strange argument where he insisted that I was paying for his bananas. The clerk behind the counter also thought that I was. We had something of an argument for about 5 minutes. In the end I took my banana off the scales, pout $0:60 down on the countertop and began to walk away. That ended up into another discussion that turned out to be much more friendly and I’d no idea why. We ended up talking about shift rotas etc. The cashier showed me how her shift rota worked and how she had to change a few things round. I bet that you’re really enjoying these exciting moments.

We were working on something for the radio. We needed a troupe of dancing children. We recruited a couple of kids whom we knew but we were short on numbers. I went past a sports field and there was a group of kids there. There were two who were controlling the crowd and dancing in time to some music that was going on in the background, a boy and a girl. They looked quite good so I thought that I’d go over to talk to them. I went over and said “hello”. They replied “we aren’t allowed to talk to strange men” … “obviously your reputation is spreading wider than you realise” – ed … “and there’s no teacher here at the moment”. I said “no problem. The headmaster knows me from something else so I’ll give you a note, you can give it to him and he’ll decide what to do”. The idea was to write a little note to the headmaster say what was happening and take the matter from there. Going through my pockets, first of all I couldn’t find a pen. I asked if anyone had a pen. One of the people standing around, I could see that he had some pens in this top pocket but he didn’t volunteer. Eventually I borrowed one from someone but then I couldn’t find any paper on which to write. I thought “here I am snatching defeat from the jaws of victory yet again!”.

Finally I wanted a new ladder so I was going to go to the DiY shop. Half a dozen people said that they wanted things so we all piled into my van and went. I bought my ladder and a couple of things. Someone else bought a roof ladder etc. Then I had to go to pay for it. Then we’d all go to sit in someone’s car. There were quite a few people crowded around in cars and it was really cramped. I told the driver to pull down the road and stop. I had to pay with a credit card. he said “ohh not another credit card”. I replied that it’s far better walking around the streets with a credit card than a wad of cash. I was about to give him a few other good reasons but the guy in the back began to be annoyed because we were driving through an area full of local police. For some reason he didn’t want to involve them. The guy in this car wasn’t going to stop. It looked as if he was going to take me all the way home to drop off this ladder and for me to pay him. Then of course I had to return to pick up everyone else and pick up Caliburn. I thought “for just a simple ladder, this is something else that’s becoming extremely complicated” and that wouldn’t be a first time, would it?

Tea was sausage chips and beans – some of the vegan sausages that I’d bought in Jersey and beans with vegan cheese now that I’ve found a reliable and hopefully constant source.

But I dunno about going to bed because as usual after all of this effort I can’t relax. Back in the old days when I was stressed out after chauffeuring around Brussels I’d go for a long run around the area where I lived. These days though I couldn’t even run for my life.

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Wednesday 7th December 2022 – FOR THOSE OF YOU …

… who were keeping score, I made it as far as the railway station before I fell down the stairs there. A couple of kind passers-by and a railway employee helped me to my feet and bandaged the cut on my hand, and then a railway porter was summoned to escort me – well, rather half-carry me to the hotel because my legs had turned to rubber.

Previously though, I couldn’t summon up the strength to climb onto the bus and a passenger had to help me. And then at the station, I couldn’t climb up the kerb so I couldn’t go down the ramp from the bus station. I had to walk all the way up the side of the road and onto the station where I had my encounter with the stairs.

There’s no doubt about it. This is serious.

At least I had a good sleep last night. It took ages to actually drop off but once I’d gone I’d gone for good. The alarm awoke me and I even managed to go to the bathroom but I had to be shaken awake for them to give me a blood test and I really didn’t notice breakfast coming in. It was already on the windoowsill when I looked for it.

Later on the nurses came to visit me and they went through their usual questionnaire
Senior nurse – “have you been to the toilet this morning?”
Our Hero emerging from the toilet – “errrr …. “

They gave me all of the medication that I needed to take over the next few days and also some of the paperwork. We had to wait for the rest.

The priest finally came to see me too but he had nothing to add to our discussion of Monday and it really was a waste of time.

After lunch the doctor came round and handed me the rest of the paperwork and wished me well, with that crooked smile on her face. The nurses came along after and took out the catheter from the back of my hand which was a great relief to me, that’s for sure. The pain was starting to get on my nerves.

From there I bravely staggered off to the showers for a good wash and brush up before I set sail. And then I changed into my own clothes.

Some of the stuff I’d packed before leaving and the rest I quickly gathered up and then said “goodbye” to the nurse who came to see me off.

There’ a sign on the wall from the rest area by the top of the steps near the entrance that “it’s 4 minutes” to the lift up to the ward where I had been living. The walk took me 25 minutes and I really did have to stop for a rest.

While I was there I took a gamble and went to book a room at the Ibis Budget Hotel at the back of the railway station. The bad news was that they only had rooms for tonight and not tomorrow.

Not to be outdone, I noticed that tomorrow night there was still a room at the hotel by the Gare du Midi in Brussels where I stayed when I arrived and where I had left some stuff. Consequently I booked the room there and with a bit of luck I can recover my things, if they still have them.

My journey down to the bus stop was slow, steady and painful and I’ve described my journey from there down to the hotel. And how I was glad to fall onto my bed.

in the evening I went across the road to the fritkot for some food. It was slightly easier without anything to carry so i have made an executive decision – and as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, an executive decision is a decision where if it goes wrong, the person making it is executed.

And the decision? I’m going to jettison absolutely everything that is not essential – everything – and just make a crawl for it with just the laptop and a little paperwork. No medication, no washing equipment, no food, nothing. Alison will come past at some point at her convenience and pick up what I’ve left and keep it for whenever.

If that doesn’t work then nothing will. Of my 700km journey I’ve gone about 5 kms so far and already had one accident. How many more am I going to have before I make it home? If I ever do.

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Monday 24th October 2022 – TODAY WAS ABSOLUTELY …

… awful.

It started with me struggling to fall asleep on board this train and finished with me having yet another spectacular fall, this time on the platform of the “Berri-UQAM” Metro Station. It doesn’t get any worse than this.

Last night I mentioned that the carriage in which I was travelling was more modern and luxurious than the one on which I travelled down to Moncton. That much was true but that was all that could be said for it. The seats didn’t recline at all and I just couldn’t make myself comfortable.

Nevertheless, I did manage to go to sleep for about three hours and there is even something on the dictaphone to prove it. I fell asleep listening to “Murder on the Orient Express”. The train pulled into a station in a big city. I alighted and went through a door, down some stairs and found myself in the cellar of this railway station where there was a ticket booth or similar with 3 clerks sitting in it. I turned round to retrace my steps but couldn’t recognise the route that I’d taken. I was sitting there scratching my head thinking “how am I going to find my train?” when I heard it start up and pull out of the railway station.

Later on we were on the train with a pile of stuff. We weren’t supposed to let it congeal together. I had this cough that was keeping me awake and annoying all the other people too. I must have fallen asleep because I didn’t remember anything after that. Then an alarm went off. I thought that it was mine so I sat bolt upright. My eyes were stuck together with this liquid stuff that is coming out of my eyes. I couldn’t see anything and I didn’t know how to separate them either.

And finally we were going somewhere as a family. I don’t know who was with us but someone was coming to pick us up. It was a long way and we had to be ready by 04:00. I heard that person coming while I was asleep and I awoke to find them coming to the door. Pretending that I was wide awake I said something in a very cheerful voice that we were all ready and raring to go. Then I found that I’d gone back to sleep again and none of the rest of my family had got up yet either

The rest of the journey was spent coughing all the way to Montreal, nibbling on a bit more baguette and eating a banana. No coffee though. There was a tea-trolley service on the train down but not on the way back. Luckily I’d stocked up with liquids. As I’m not eating, I still have to keep myself hydrated.

In the morning I awoke to find us pulling into the railway station at Ste-Foy on the outskirts of Québec. And having done what we wanted to do there, we reversed back out of there and carried on

victoria bridge st lambert lock observation deck st lawrence seaway Montreal Canada Eric Hall photo October 2022So here’s our fist view of Montreal

We’re actually following the sough bank of the St Lawrence River here, coming up to the little office building and observation deck of the St Lambert Lock at the entrance to the St Lawrence Seaway

That’s the canal that by-passes the rapids at Lachine and enables ocean-going ships to sail up the Great Lakes to places like Chicago and Detroit. There’s a rise here of 15 feet and there are other locks further on.

Montreal from victoria bridge Canada Eric Hall photo October 2022The bridge in the background of the previous photo was called the Victoria Bridge, opened in 1859 and rebuilt subsequently on a couple of occasions.

We’re crossing the bridge but actually using the diversion lines built in 1958 and I’ve no idea why that would be. These lines are only usually used when a ship is passing through the canal at this point but I can’t see one.

As for the bridge, it cost $6,600,000 and when it was completed it was, at almost 3 kilometres, the longest bridge in the World

city centre Montreal Canada Eric Hall photo October 2022We’ve crossed over the river now and are coming into the city centre and the railway station.

It’s a bizarre railway station, lost in the middle of a large shopping precinct, the “Place Bonaventure” part of the Underground City and the Halles de la Gare

It’s also quite modern, being built in the 1930s and opened in 1943 to consolidate all of the railway services in one place, and in the past we’ve visited some of the abandoned ones. But they needn’t have bothered because rail services in Canada are “sketchy” to say the least.

The agonising journey (which I would have enjoyed in other circumstances) drew to a halt about 15 minutes late (which was a surprise for everyone, a mere 15 minutes) and I staggered onto the platform.

I could feel that there was something not quite correct but I pressed on. And I was glad that there was an escalator up to the upper floor because I would never have made it up the stairs.

Having collected my suitcase with HIS NIBS I set off on the marathon crawl to the Metro Station.

Any disabled person thinking of wandering around the subterranean labyrinth of the centre of Montreal needs to think again. They have some escalators here and there that take to mezzanine floors where you have steps to take you the rest of the way.

And some of the escalators don’t work and you have to walk down and had not a friendly, helpful youth not carried my suitcase down to the bottom of one of them I’d still be there now.

And then some of the corridors are carpeted which means that your rolling suitcase comes to a dead stop with a velcro-like effect.

The metro ride to “Berri-UQAM” was uneventful but at the station itself I encountered some of the worst of humanity. There I was, collapsed on the platform and I asked some man if her could help me to my feet. He just looked away and walked straight past. A couple of young girls came to my rescue and with a great effort helped me to my feet while several other people just stood around.

In absolute agony I crawled to my hotel. Of course the room wasn’t ready but I know the people here and they soon had it ready which was nice of them. There’s no lift here though and I had to crawl up the steps to the first floor.

Luckily I was able to leave my luggage downstairs. The chambermaid brought up my backpack and the manager brought up my suitcase later.

By this time I was flat-out on the bed asleep. And I managed a couple of hours of, for once, blissful sleep.

A little later I had a nice hot shower and washed my clothes, and then got back into bed. Not that I slept but it was simply to rest my leg and take it easy.

In the early evening I tempted fate and went out again. I think that I’m keeping alive the entire Canadian pharmaceutical industry right now because with the stuff that I bought in Moncton not having any particular effect, I went to the chemist’s down the road and received different advice.

On the way back I went to try a slice of pizza but I could only eat half of it. This complete loss of appetite isn’t a fiction at all. So guess what I’m having for breakfast.

Back here I went straight to bed. I have a Welsh lesson in the morning at … errr … 05:00, not that I’m feeling in the least like it, but I have to push myself on.

But honestly, I’ve never felt as bad as this and I’m worried about the next couple of stages of this journey

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Thursday 29th September 2022 (cont) – SO HERE I AM

strawberry moose suitcase place d'armes Granville Manche Normandy France Eric Hall photo September 2022And here he is too. I’m sure you didn’t need me to tell you who is travelling with me, do you?

When the alarm went off this morning I’d already been in and out of the shower. This is usually what happens when I’m setting off to go somewhere, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall. In fact I’d been awake for a lot longer than that. I would have said that I hadn’t actually gone to sleep at all except that there’s something on the dictaphone. And I know that without looking because I remember having to leave my stinking pit to change the batteries in it.

I can’t remember very much about this because of the batteries. It was to do with a person whom I know from University who is in a wheelchair trying to find someone to look after his cat, his old black and white cat before he went off on holiday. There was also a question about a dog as well so we were making jokes about Boudicca, having the dog tied to his wheelchair to pull him along. There was something else in this as well about food. He was looking for someone who had some extra food for some reason that he could take but I don’t really remember all that much about this.

Just by way of a change I’d paid for a breakfast. I don’t normally eat a breakfast but it’s going to be a very long day and the availability of food is not going to be guaranteed. There are supplies in my backpack because I’ve been caught out like this before but nevertheless it’s always best to be as prepared as they can.

They sent a minibus to pick me up and to my embarrassment and shame I couldn’t get into it. I ended up falling into it and I’ve repeated the damage to my right knee. This is certainly not the time and place to be doing that and I shall regret that, I reckon.

At the airport (because of course I’m going by air) it was a long walk down to the check-in and I felt every inch of the way. At the check-in desk there were just four other people. We had been told to be there at least four hours before check-in so we were there on time but the staff didn’t turn up until much later. And one of them, the guy who set out the lanes for the queues, is someone whom I shall remember for a very long time.

automatic passport check paris charles de gaulle airport France Eric Hall photo September 2022After having checked in I then had to go through passport control.

That’s all automated these days. You set into some kind of little cubicle that checks your passport and photographs you. I was thinking that if you and your passport were rejected, the floor would slide open and you’d fall into a pit lined with sharpened sticks.

Mine was okay and I passed through for a physical check. Luckily, my carte de séjour was to hand so they didn’t stamp my passport.

Security was surprisingly painless. They confiscated my little bottle of water. I was half-inclined to ask him about how he felt working right next to a crateful of stuff that he believed to be dangerous or explosive but I decided that gratuitous confrontation was probably not a good idea.

But I sailed through without the slightest problem and that really was quite extraordinary.

air canada c-fnnq Boeing 777-300ER 2013 paris charles de gaulle airport France Eric Hall photo September 2022This is our trusty steed.

She’s C-FNNQ and the fact that her registration begins with C tells us of course that here in Paris she’s likely to be owned by Air-Canada. And when I say that she’s a Boeing 777-300ER, you have probably worked out where I’m going.

Being as early as I was, there was quite a long wait before we could board. I sat quietly and listened to some music on the computer. Many more power points in the airport than ever there used to be. Currently, the “album of the moment” is of a live acoustic concert by Steve Harley and Nick Pynn and if ever you get to hear “Riding The Waves” from this concert, it contains probably one of the best acoustic guitar/dulcimer solos of all time.

air canada c-fnnq Boeing 777-300ER 2013 dorval pierre trudeau airport montreal canada Eric Hall photo September 2022Here’s a better view of my ‘plane, taken at – you guessed it – Pierre L Trudeau Airport at Montreal.

She was built in 2013 and her claim to fame is that on 26th September 2014 she lost all her navigation connections on a flight over the Atlantic. Luckily they were restored soon after and most of the … gulp … 465 people on board knew very little about it.

They would have known much more about it if they hadn’t managed to re-connect the system

We were packed in like sardines and having luckily checked in on line last night I had an aisle seat. I spent the flight either asleep, listening to more music and watching my neighbour playing solitaire – not very well.

The on-board meals were really what you would expect – quite correct as far as airline food goes so my supplies stayed holed up in my backpack.

crowds arrival lounge dorval pierre trudeau airport montreal canada Eric Hall photo September 2022And here we are fighting our way through immigration in Canada.

Queues for miles and most things automated. But when I finally saw the Immigration officers I was waved through with the most minimal enquiries. Obviously the events of a little over three years ago and which have been preying on my mind a little for all this time were really all for nothing. I suppose that I can go ahead and add in those few days that are missing from my blog.

Queueing then for the luggage, queueing to buy a bus ticket, queueing for the bus, and then queueing in the traffic for a demonstration that was taking place in the streets. And a guy who spent much of the bus ride asking me questions ended up missing his coach connection at the bus station because of all of the delays.

cobalt boutique hotel rue st herbert Montreal Canada Eric Hall photo September 2022Finding my hotel was another thing. It’s a new place apparently, so new that they haven’t even put up the signs for it.

Consequently I was wandering up and down the street aimlessly for quite a while trying to track it down.

And once I’d finally found it I had to find the check-in instructions, sent by e-mail that of course I hadn’t received previously with being on the road and there being no public internet connection. Walking down to a Tim Horton’s for a free connection isn’t possible at the moment, the way my health is.

In the end, more by luck than judgement, I found what I needed.. I’d asked for a ground-floor room which they had given me, but they didn’t say that you had to walk up one flight of steps to the front door and then down another one inside to my floor.

kitchen corner cobalt boutique hotel rue st hubert Montreal Canada Eric Hall photo October 2022However, once down here, I found the room to be very nice and comfortable ven if it is a little small.

There’s even a little kitchenette, although I shan’t be using it much with probably the best Indian restaurant in North America just a metro ride away.

Had it not been for the mobility issues I would have been delighted with this place, and I’ll certainly remember it for future visits if my health improves..

outdoor table tennis place emilie gamelin Montreal Canada Eric Hall photo September 2022Having had a little … errr … relax for half an hour or so I wet to the shops for supplies.

On the way I went past the Place Emilie Gamelin where there was an outdoor table tennis game taking place. It wasn’t the game that interested me as much as the antics of the car that’s in the lower left corner. The driver pulled up, dropped someone off, looked around ready to move off, saw me waiting with my camera, put the handbrake on, took a drink and started to eat a snack.

Fed up of waiting, I walked up the hill 5 yards, took the photo from there and as I moved away, she drove away.

My original plan was to walk down to the river but I decided not to push my luck that far as I’m not very steady on my feet right now. So I decided to go and buy some food instead.

Took me 10 minutes in the IGA to choose the stuff for breakfast, and then about an hour to pay in one of the longest supermarket queues I’ve ever seen

outdoor theatre place emilie gamelin montreal canada Eric Hall photo September 2022On the way home again I stopped at the Place Emilie Gamelin again.

This time it was the outdoor theatre that excited my attention. Nothing much happening there but there seems to be much more going on in general than ever there used to be.

Going back up the steps with my shopping was too much and I fell down the stairs. Some poor girl tried to pick me up but failed miserably as I was of no help. In the end I dragged myself over to the steps and sitting on one step after another I managed eventually to pull myself upright.

When I finally made it back to my room I had to wash the shopping bag to get rid of the orange juice stains. What a mess that was!

After a long rest I took my life into my hands and headed for the metro. Luckily there are lifts and escalators here at Berri-UQAM and so getting to the platform wasn’t much of a problem although I didn’t enjoy the walk one bit.

I took the Montreal Metro’s orange line westwards to the terminus at Cote-Vertu where there are also passenger lifts to take me upstairs to the street.

Galeries Norgate shopping mall cote vertu Montreal Canada Eric Hall photo October 2022From there it was yet another slow walk across a dangerous road junction (which is not the place to fall over at all) to the shopping mall, the Galeries Norgate, on the other side of the rue Decarie.

And why is shopping in North America so boring? Well, when you’ve seen one bunch of shops you’ve seen a mall

I’ll get my coat.

raja restaurant Galeries Norgate cote vertu Montreal Canada Eric Hall photo October 2022At the back of the shopping mall is the best Indian restaurant in the whole of North America.

It’s still here, which is good news, and not only that, it’s even better. It’s been enlarged so there’s plenty of room to spread out. The vegetable biryani was excellent although the garlic naan wasn’t as good as it might have been. However, this is North America, not North Staffordshire, and you can’t have everything.

Like most places in North America the portions are definitely man-sized … “PERSON-sized” – ed … and I asked for a doggy-bag on leaving. Guess what I’m having for breakfast tomorrow?

aeroplane coming into land cote vertu Montreal Canada Eric Hall photo October 2022The Galeries Norgate are right underneath the flightpath for aeroplanes coming into land at the Pierre L Trudeau airport down the road.

They pass so low overhead that you can almost reach up and touch them. And there are dozens of them too. I’d be quite happy to stand here for a while and watch them but it’s probably not a good idea. There are one or two other people standing on the street corner around here and they certainly aren’t watching the aeroplanes

Consequently, in the best traditions of a well-known British Sunday newspaper of years gone by, “I made my excuses and left”.

Luckily the metro station has its lift because that was the only way I could make it back. And at Berri-UQAM it was a long, slow crawl home.

Now I’m off to bed even though it’s not quite 22:00. But in real time that’s 04:00 tomorrow and that means my day has been almost 24 hours with just a cat-nap in between.

It just goes to show – I really CAN do it when I try.

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Thursday 2nd October 2014 – IT WAS FREEZING THIS MORNING.

And I’m not joking either. It might be a slight exaggeration though, for it was 2°C outside when I set out. And there was a huge hanging cloud everywhere that meant that you couldn’t see a thing.

hanging cloud centreville new brunswick canadaUp on the hill at the end of the road, you can see what was going on. It seems that Centreville is suffering the wrath of the Gods today and is swathed in this huge hanging cloud while the rest of the region is bathed in glorious sunshine.

I don’t know what we have all done to deserve that, but here it is and here’s the proof.

old railway bridge canadian pacific centreville woodstock new brunswick canada september 2014I set out to continue my exploration of the area and managed to find my way onto the old railway bridge that I featured yesterday.

It’s evidently seen much better days than this and it’s not the strongest bridge over which I have walked in my time. But at least it’s still here and not been swept away. And it was a beautiful day in the sunshine out of the hanging cloud.

bridge abandoned railway line canadian pacific woodstock new brunswick canada september 2014I mentioned … "a few times now" – ed … that there was a railway line that followed the Saint John River between the coast and Edmundston in the north, and it crossed the river just outside Woodstock.

I went for a prowl around in the area and found the old bridge. Much to my surprise, most of that is still here too. One span is missing but nevertheless, the main part of the bridge is still standing and that looks quite impressive even if it is in worse condition than the one at Centreville.

There are the remains of an old rural railway station near here and the goods yard has been transformed into a commercial vehicle scrap yard. I had a slow drive past to see what I could see, and attracted the attention of a couple of the employees who took a decided interest in what I was up to.

I had my lunch on the car park that is by the “lake” in the River Meduxnekeag (I hope that I’ve spelled that correctly) in the beautiful sunshine, and then read a book and had a play on the guitar for a while. I didn’t feel much like going anywhere else seeing how nice the day was and how good was my little spec here.

And why not? I’m on holiday and I should be relaxing. It’s what holidays are for.

And autumn is definitely here. No wonder they call it “fall” in North America because I’ve never seen leaves fall so quickly from the trees as I did today. And you will be surprised at the noise that they make too. I would never have believed it.

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