… since I stood up and left a table with food on my plate?

Usually, I’m pretty good at working out how much I feel like eating but that certainly wasn’t the case tonight. Even when I tried to force myself to eat, it didn’t seem to make any difference, and I ended up wasting quite a pile of food.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that if I’m off my food, or don’t feel like eating, it means that I’m on the verge of having another illness. So what’s going to happen next? And more importantly, when?

For all I know, it might have happened last night, I suppose. Once more, I’ve no idea why but it seemed to take an eternity to finish off everything that I have to do before I go to bed. And while it wasn’t midnight when I finally crawled under the covers, it wasn’t very far off.

Once in bed, I went to sleep quite quickly and remember nothing at all until about 05:40 when I awoke. No danger of sleeping in until the alarm this morning.

It took a good few minutes to summon up the energy and the courage to leave the bed, and then I went for a good wash and the morning medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what was going on during the night. I was doing something at dialysis last night. This time, it was under the supervision of some builder and interior designer who had us all wearing some kind of uniform that was managed by the park service. The park service came along and dressed us once each day etc so it was some kind of average prices, dandelion somebody and someone else, and we all had to look our best and behave our best because of the status of the society tailed off into a mass of incoherent mumbling.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that even though I’m asleep when I dictate my notes, there’s usually always some kind of vague recollection of the events when I’m transcribing them. Occasionally though, there is absolutely no recollection whatsoever, and this is one of the latter. I really don’t know what this is all about.

Later on, a whole group of us had gone to Chester on some kind of office trip. We’d arranged to meet everyone outside Buyrite. The coach stopped and dropped us off on the way in to Chester. I knew where Buyrite was, and we’d been dropped off at the wrong roundabout so we had to walk down to where the correct roundabout was. We went down through into the pedestrian maze under the roundabout and came out on the top. This was where there was a Saturday market with all kinds of handbags and everything like that. One of my friends there bought himself a new briefcase because his old one had split and the one that he’d used to replace it wasn’t big enough. We saw a strange thing happening. That was a woman driving a car with a small girl of about seven or eight running after it, crying and screaming, shouting “Daddy”. We were looking at this and wondering what on earth was happening, whether the woman had decided to abandon her child or something like that, we really didn’t know.

After I ran away from home, I spent two very happy years living in Chester. I hated my job and was glad to leave, but I loved the city and the people and wish that there had been a way by which I could have stayed. But the part of that dream about the child – that’s the thing that would prey on my mind. I hate to see children treated badly. It seems to me that children often have a very raw deal at the hands of adults.

There had been a couple of parcel deliveries just recently, mainly of stuff for downstairs, but there were a few things that belong up here so I had some fun unpacking them and playing with my new toys. I ought to treat myself more often.

Isabelle the Nurse bounced in as usual, all bright and cheerful which is no surprise, seeing as it’s her last day for a fortnight. Tomorrow, she’s off to the Alps. But today she dealt with my legs, wished everyone a pleasant fortnight, wish my furniture removal team good luck, and then bounced out.

Once she’d gone, I could make breakfast and read some more of THE DIARIES OF SIR DANIEL GOOCH.

And by the time that I’d finished, there was no more to read. It didn’t take long to demolish that book.

On 10th July 1869 "We saw a very curious effect of mirage this morning. A large ship on the horizon was upside down, sailing on her mast-head, and her hull up in the clouds ;"

That’s an effect called a fata morgana – caused by the differences in air density as you look across, say, a large body of water. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we have witnessed a few of them ourselves, such as here ON THE ST LAWRENCE RIVER in 2012.

Later on in the book, he’s having a moan about the workmen, who are "earning so much in wages that they will only work three or four days a week, and then only do part work.", wishing "may God avert so sad an evil to this country,". Meanwhile, in other news, he mentions a page or two earlier that "the half-yearly meeting of the Great Western was held on the 2Qth February, and we were able to pay a good dividend of 5 per cent. ." and that "the shareholders passed a resolution, giving me 5000 guineas, in very complimentary terms"

“Sauce for the goose” is a phrase that went through my mind at that moment.

There’s quite a profound comment that he makes a while later when he retires from his seat as an MP in the House of Commons. "I have taken no part in any of the debates, and have been a silent member. It would be a great advantage to business if there were a greater number who followed my example.", sentiments with which I concur wholeheartedly.

For several years, he was a director of the company that laid several telegraph cables across the Atlantic, and actually sailed on three of the trips. The experience on board these sailings led to him changing his opinion about several important matters. On the first expedition, in 1865, he notes that "as the insulation of this cable has gradually improved as it was put into deep water, until it is now twelve times better than the contract standard, a cheaper material might be used in the outer coatings of the core, and the whole cable be laid at a much less cost."

However, having lost several cables to the depths over the next four years, he tells us in 1869 that "there is much discussion just now as to laying light, and therefore cheap, cables. I do not think they could be laid across the Atlantic. You need a cable of considerable strength, as difficulties are sure to occur. A light cable would be, in my opinion, sure to break; and I doubt whether in great depths it could be picked up, as it would be impossible to tell when the grapnel had hold of it. If the experiment is tried, I will certainly take no share in the work."

Once I was back in here, I began to work seriously on this soundtrack for the next radio programme. I was beginning to wonder how I was going to be able to produce it, as it seemed to have far too many bits and pieces missing, with big holes everywhere.

However, by the time that I knocked off for tea, I’d managed to produce 58 or so minutes of fairly seamless soundtrack music. It wasn’t easy, not by any means, and there were times when I was tearing out my hair. But now it merely needs a couple of tiny tweaks and then I can write the notes.

My cleaner turned up to do her stuff, and we spent a happy hour beginning to pack away my office ready for moving. We really only scratched the surface of it today but at least it’s a start. If I pack a few boxes every day, it will soon be done, I hope.

Tea tonight was breaded nuggets and chips with salad but as I said earlier, I wasn’t hungry and left a pile of food on my plate. And with chemotherapy looming on Tuesday and Wednesday, this is telling me all kinds of bad omens … "oPERSONS" – ed …

Anyway, now I’m off to bed, ready for dialysis tomorrow, I don’t think. But before I go, another player from the JD Cymru League has been called up for international duty by his country. Abdul Sharif of Connah’s Quay Nomads will be flying out to Somalia to participate in their World Cup qualifying matches in early September. That’s not a surprise following his impressive performance the other day against Colwyn Bay.

But seeing as we have been talking about the early days of telegraphy … "well, one of us has" – ed … a team was engaged to erect telegraph poles from London to Lizard Point to connect up with the cable coming from Valentia in Ireland.
At the end of the first day, the foreman calls over the erector from Crewe and asks him "how many telegraph poles did you erect today?"
"Two" replied the erector from Crewe.
"That’s no good" said the foreman. "Most of the other guys can erect ten or twelve."
"That’s as maybe" said the erector from Crewe "but look how far out of the ground they leave them!"