Tag Archives: football

Sunday 19th January 2025 – I HAVE HAD …

… what at first might sound like a really quiet day but it really wasn’t. I might not have seemed to have done much but I haven’t stopped. Not even for a moment.

After I’d finished writing out my notes I had some dictation to do – to dictate the notes that I’d written earlier in the week. That didn’t take too long and after I’d watched a couple of TV interviews on the internet, I crawled off to bed. I’d actually made it (for once) before midnight so with the lie-in until 08:00 I was going to have a decent sleep.

And I didn’t turn over or turn round much either. It did take an age to drop off, but once I’d gone, that was it.

Whatever it was that awoke me, I’ve no idea but at 07:45 I was wide awake, bolt-upright, 15 minutes before the alarm was due to go off.

And so, if I’m awake and there’s a possibility of recording an “early start”, then why not? When the alarm went off at 08:00 I was actually in the bathroom sorting myself out. How many times is this since dialysis began that a Saturday morning has been an “early start”?

After the bathroom I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone, to find out where I’d been during the night. We’d been on a holiday, on a cruise. The cruise had come round ready for people now to start the homeward leg. There was a fair bit of grumbling amongst the passengers about, first of all, parking the cars. There was some strangely-worded statement about people not turning up at the office, which, if interpreted in some way, meant that there was no parking for their vehicles. I somehow felt that it meant that one couldn’t go along and queue inside the office while you were waiting to be signed in. Everyone had his own interpretation on this. We talked about cars parked in a long-term car park for ages, and people with fork-lift trucks lifting them out of the way to put their cars in their place. We came back from this excursion and had to change out of our wet clothes into dry clothes. everyone else had done this and was drifting off on board and I couldn’t get out of my clothes. I couldn’t push my feet through my trouser legs. Everyone was drifting further and further away and I was still struggling. There was one guy and his wife still there. He’d been criticising some of the arrangements because he’d noticed that it was a very early start that morning. He’d posted something on the Group’s chat site that “I bet that it will be a packed lunch and cup of coffee on board the train for our breakfast rather than a sit-down meal in the hotel”. He’d been summoned by the Cruise Director and given a lecture and telling-off, so he reckoned that that was exactly what was going to happen. Eventually I managed to put on some kind of clothing and was able to catch up with the throngs although it was most uncomfortable. Then I heard that the rumour that this guy had started had actually been the truth. We were all to board the train and we’d be given a packed breakfast and cup of coffee once we were on board. The walkway over to this train was a narrow, rickety bridge suspended over a huge gap that was probably over 100 feet down. With all the people on this bridge swarming towards the train I was thinking that this bridge wasn’t going to withstand the pressure and we’d all go crashing down to the ground.

Whatever the story about the car park is, I’ve no idea. When I read this I had an image of a car hire office at the airport in Montreal, but don’t ask me why that vision came into my head because I can’t think of any comparable incident. Changing out of wet gear into our normal clothes was something that we did twice a day (at least) on THE GOOD SHIP VE … errr … OCEAN ENDEAVOUR after we clambered out of the zodiacs that ran us around in the various bays and straits up in the High Arctic. However the struggle was usually when we had to put on our gear and rush for a zodiac that we might otherwise miss and all our friends and fellow-passengers would leave the ship without us. There wasn’t a chat group for the passengers though – sometimes we were in places where not even a satellite wi-fi system would work.

There was however a passerelle or “walkway” that collapsed – AT RAMSGATE IN 1994 but I was nowhere near that at the time. At least, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Isabelle the Nurse breezed in as usual and didn’t stop for long. She didn’t have very much to say today, except that the weather really was freezing this morning, which was what I expected.

After she left I made myself breakfast, and then took my time eating it while I read MY BOOK.

Once more, I wasn’t going to waste neither my time nor yours posting more of the same old same old, except to say that at one point he describes with absolute and utter derision the argument of someone whom he freely admits is described as "at the head of living students of English history"

He spends page after page after page scoffing at the idea that Wissant was the port from which Caesar set sail (as if it matters in a book about Britain) concluding with "the claim of Wissant to be identified with the Portus Itius cannot be admitted.".

That was his position in 1907. Having spent page after page in treating with derision the writers who have changed their position over the years, in May 1909 he submitted a paper to the Classical Review, giving "strong reasons for preferring Wissant".

There was bread to make next. I had soup to make later and so I need a fresh bread roll. And that’s the advantage of the air fryer – I can bash out a bread roll whenever I like.

Today’s soup was broccoli stalk soup, with potato, onion, shallot and various herbs and spices, using up the last of the water from the blanching exercise of last weekend.

Heaping in a pot of soya yoghurt gave it that final touch, even if I did forget the black pepper and the tiny pasta elbows. Nevertheless, it was delicious and I’ll make more of that any time. If you want the recipe it’s HERE but it now has a shallot added to it too.

After lunch I came back in here ready to start work but first there was the football – Stranraer v East Fife. East Fife won 2-0 with the first goal being a foul and a wicked deflection, and the second being a handball. And if you think that I’m making it up, you can see for yourself in the HIGHLIGHTS. And you can hear the best TV football commentators in the entire country while you watch the game.

After that I settled down to edit the notes that I dictated last night but I didn’t get far. Someone came on line to whom I wanted to chat and this desultory chat went on until late in the evening, meaning that I could only edit the notes in the pauses between the chats.

We did however stop for tea. I’d taken a lump of dough out of the freezer earlier and it had been defrosting. Later on I rolled it out and put it onto the pizza tray ready to assemble.

Once it had risen I attacked the base and put on the tomato and pepper sauce, the olives, onions and mushrooms, sprinkled it with herbs, put on the vegan cheese and then a couple of nice rows of cherry tomatoes cut in half.

This one was nothing very much different than any other that I have baked but for some reason it tasted by far the best that I have ever made, and the cheese melted wonderfully. If only I knew the secret I’d make many more of those.

So tonight I’m off to bed, and tomorrow we’ll all wake up in a New World where the people of Canada and Greenland will be looking for the rest of the World to save them. Being threatened by a madman armed to the teeth backed by a crowd of paranoid lunatics is no way to live.

While we’re on that subject … "well, one of us is" – ed … one of Trump’s aides dashed into his office. "I dreamed about you last night" He said.
"Really?" asked Trump. "What was it?"
"Well," replied the aide. "You were being driven down Pennsylvania Avenue. People were cheering, flags were waving, kids were dancing and everyone was partying "
"Wow" Replied Trump. "That must have been wonderful. But tell me – my hair – how was my hair?"
"We couldn’t see" replied the aide. "We couldn’t get the lid off your coffin."

-1

Tuesday 14th January 2025 – I AM TYPING …

… these notes during a pause in the football.

It’s hardly surprising that there’s a pause either because, as the score is proving, trying to play a game of football as banks of fog come rolling from the Dee estuary across the stadium at Cae Castell is producing some extremely unpredictable, and for Y Bala who are defending the river end, some extremely unfortunate moments.

After an hour of playing hide and seek the players have gone off the field in the hope that the fog will roll away. But even if it does, there is no guarantee that it won’t roll back.

It’s ironic that it’s happening to Y Bala. The final round of the first half of the season should have been played weeks ago but their pitch has been alternately under snow, ice and water on so many occasions that after several postponements that led to the postponement of the final round of matches, the game against Caernarfon that we watched on Saturday, was played at a neutral venue, Llandudno’s all-weather stadium

All the final round games were postponed until tonight, but now Y Bala’s vital match against Cei Connah is swathed in fog and all the players are in the dressing room waiting. There’s no guarantee that they will be back out either.

So while I’m waiting for things to happen, after finishing my notes last night I stayed up to listen to yet another concert (I’ve forgotten who it was) and then at about 00:30 I gave it up as a bad job and crawled into my bed. I can’t keep going as I used to.

Once in bed it took a while to go to sleep and there I stayed until about 06:35 when I awoke, once more drenched in sweat. There’s definitely something going on with this dialysis that I don’t understand.

It goes without saying, I suppose, that I went back to sleep again. I was certainly asleep when BILLY COTTON awoke me from the Dead.

Being awake was one thing. Leaving the bed was quite another thing completely. Mind you, I did (just about) beat the second alarm. And then I staggered off to the bedroom

After the bathroom it was the kitchen for the medication. And while I remembered the stuff that I can only take on a non-dialysis day, I forgot my blood-thinning medication. I’m definitely losing my touch, and probably my mind as well.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. Last night I was stacking things inside the van. It was already quite loaded. There was me and there was another person, a girl, helping me. We had some long, thin wooden boxes probably about two metres long, to put in the back. We were carrying them one by one. Someone suggested that we’d advance much quicker if we were to take two or three at a time between the two of us. We tried it with a couple but it was much wore awkward. Positioning them in the van was a problem because the girl with me always wanted to carry them on her left-hand side which meant that she was having to fight with the back door to put them in when she arrived. That was becoming rather difficult. We stacked them inside quite high. There was already a lot of things in there so we thought that we’d better find some way of strapping these in against the side of the wall or the other things that are already in there, strapping them up against them against the side of the wall that way so that they didn’t fall over because if they were to fall they would be quite something of a problem inside and the whole inside was something of a mess.

Whoever the girl was, I have no idea. She was small and lively, but not anyone whom I recognised immediately. However, stacking stuff into vans was the occupation of a lifetime once upon a time and regular readers of this rubbish will recall seeing a few photos of how I used to travel around Europe in the past.

Isabelle the Nurse is on duty for the next seven days. She is much more cheerful and was telling me about the float that she and her friends are building for Carnaval. She’s not telling me what it is though – it’s to be a surprise and won’t be unveiled until the day of the parade.

It’s now been announced that the football match has been postponed, which has now completely upset the timetable for the rest of the season. And I can press on, hours later than I was hoping.

So after Isabelle left I made my breakfast and then read some more of MY BOOK

His polemic by now is raging out of control and he condemns one of his colleagues in a manner that is quite unfitting in a published work, saying that "he blunders in a way which makes me hesitate to accept his statements about archaeological details that I have not myself studied" – a pretty outrageous remark for any academic to make, especially about a colleague.

He goes on to ask "How then would the professor and the doctor explain the fact that in the round barrows of the Yorkshire Wolds there was a reaction in favour of inhumation, seeing that Canon Greenwell 8 found in them 301 interments of unburnt and only 78 of burnt bones ?"

Christianity has been around for 2,000 years, but there are still plenty of Jews about. Protestantism has been around for almost 600 years, but there are still plenty of Catholics about. And going back to the “Dark Ages” of early Medieval times, there are many recorded instances of Christian Princesses being married to heathen Kings.

History shows us that several religions can live perfectly well side-by-side, and there’s no reason to suppose that things were different in Neolithic times. It’s quite possible to have two religions and two forms of dealing with dead bodies living in co-existence.

Back in here I revised for my Welsh lesson and hen went to class. We had, for the first time since I don’t know when, a full house of students and the class moved along smartly. I was once more quite satisfied with my progress, although my lack of memory is greatly hindering my vocabulary.

After the lesson it was lunch and a slice of flapjack with fruit, and then a very long and involved video chat with a friend in the UK who is carrying out a special project for me. We ended up discussing his holiday to Canada and, to my surprise, he liked everything that I didn’t and vice versa.

It was a Rosemaryesque conversation that lasted over an hour and it was very pleasant. It’s the only way that I get to see my friends these days and I do miss them all. Anyone else who wants a video chat some time, let me know.

Christmas cake break, very late, was next along with that disgusting protein drink, and then I started to work on the next radio programme. All of the songs are chosen, re-mixed, paired and segued and I’ve even begun to write the notes. That’s a job to be finished tomorrow I hope, in and around the shower I suppose, because it’s shower day tomorrow.

Tea tonight was a very rushed taco roll with rice followed by chocolate cake and chocolate soya dessert. Rushed because there was football on the internet. But I did remember to organise the lentils as well as some split peas that I found.

It’s the last match of the first half of the season as I mentioned earlier, the round having been postponed because of the issues with the pitch and the weather at Y Bala which has seen the Caernarfon game postponed three, or is it four times?

That match was played at Llandudno on Saturday, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, and so the final round, having been postponed while that game was still unplayed, took place tonight.

Both Cei Connah and Y Bala needed to win in order to qualify for the European playoff section of the league, and it was the Nomads who took advantage of the conditions. The first goal was an audacious lob from near the halfway line when a gust of wind lifted the fog briefly and enabled a Nomad to see the Bala keeper off his line.

They scored two more goals while Bala offered nothing whatever at all. It was all one-way traffic. But the match being called off saved Y Bala’s bacon. Some of tonight’s results mean that Cei Connah can’t possibly qualify, but Bala could if they have a good win. So if the match is replayed on Thursday, it might favour Bala.

But before I leave the story of the football match, there was a new recruit to the commentary team this evening.

Please excuse the poor quality but it’s a screenshot taken in the fog and so nothing will ever come out correctly. However it goes to show that gate-crashers can get in anywhere.

That is, except my bed (unless it’s Castor, TOTGA or Zero of course, and maybe Jenny Agutter and Kate Bush) because I’m going to climb into it in a moment, alongside STRAWBERRY MOOSE who keeps me company as much as he possibly can.

Tomorrow I’m radioing again and showering and pie-baking too. Maybe even bread-making. I’m certainly keeping myself busy.

Today, our Welsh class was discussing war. We were being asked about our family in wartime so I told them the story of my great grandfather who, after having long-since retired after his service in India and South Africa, dyed his white hair black, lied about his age and joined the Canadian Army in 1914, and also of my mother who served in the Royal Air Force in World War II.

I didn’t mention my distant great-great-cousin or whatever relation he was who was SENTENCED TO DEATH because, being a devout Quaker, he refusing to fight

One woman, the teacher from Nantwich, told the story of her father who was an Army dentist in Syria and the Western Desert in World War II.
One day he had to examine a group of volunteers to see if they were fit to join the Army and fight. One of them he was obliged to reject because his teeth were rotten.
"Blimey!" exclaimed the unlucky volunteer. "I know that we were expected to kill the enemy, but I didn’t know that we had to eat them afterwards."

Sunday 12th January 2025 – GUESS WHO …

… forgot to put his lentils in the slow cooker overnight ready to make his vegan pies today?

That’s right, folks. Brain of Britain strikes again!

What I’ll have to do, if I remember, is to put them in the slow cooker overnight on Tuesday so that they are ready for baking on Wednesday. I can’t leave things another whole week or the pastry will walk out of the fridge on its own.

The thing about the lentils is that you put them in the slow cooker on high heat, and after about an hour when they begin to boil, you drain them off and rinse them. Then put them back in with fresh clean water and a variety of herbs and spices, and leave them on a slow setting for twelve hours by which time they should be cooked and taste nice.

Then fry some onions, shallots, garlic and a block of tofu (chopped finely) in a wok with herbs and spices and anything else you like (I used a tin of sweet corn last time),.

When it’s cooked, tip the lentils in and then simmer it right down with a stock cube, and then add a few handfuls of oats to stiffen the mix, and there you have your filling for a vegan pie. Mine will of course be different because I’ll probably be adding other stuff too, but I never know what, until the final moment.

That’s the thing about vegan cooking – you can experiment with all different kinds of things to see how it all ends up.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, after I’d finished my notes I had some dictating to do – the eleventh or “missing” track from the programme that I recorded before Christmas, and then the one for this famous concert that I’ve been pasting together from a collection of off-cuts.

After that I should have gone to bed, but onto the playlist came Neil Young and a mammoth 16-minute version of DOWN BY THE RIVER and how is it possible for anyone to go to bed when Neil Young is singing “Down By The River”?

There once was a girl who "could drag me over the rainbow and send me away" but that ship sailed a long time ago.

So last night we ended up with a “Neil Young Live” playlist and it was horribly late once more when I went to bed.

Once in bed though, I stayed in bed fast asleep with just the odd awakening here and there. But I was definitely asleep when BILLY COTTON’S RAUCOUS RATTLE aroused me from my slumber. It’s not just “Peel’s view-halloo” that “could awaken the dead” or “the sound of his horn” that “brought me from my bed”.

Bearing in mind it’s Sunday and I’ve had a small lie-in, I can’t hang about and I was straight into the bathroom to sort myself out ready for today.

Back in here there was time to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was doing some 3D modelling during the night, making figures and shapes. I wanted to make the shape of a girl but when I looked on my workspace I already had made a shape that I wanted so I had to rework it into a different shape. While I was doing that the first girl disappeared so that meant that I could make this figure back into the shape that I wanted at the start. When it was finished there was no enemy or anything in sight so I just had to make any kind of poses on a hillside. Then this other girl came to join her and this was when it began to be complicated. I decided that I’d better rework the new arrival and make some other figure that wouldn’t be similar to the one that I had.

It’s been a while since I’ve done any serious 3-D modelling. But now that my adventure down in the Auvergne is over, there’s no real need for it – certainly not in this apartment. It might come in handy if ever I decide to join a Virtual World community but I don’t even have the time to cope with all of the problems that arise in this World, never mind another one.

And then I was staying in some boarding house somewhere. I’d only not long arrived. It had been concerned with a road accident in which a vehicle pulling out onto a main road had sent a small child hurtling through the air so everything had come to a standstill. I found myself at the front of the queue where I could see a car parked in the middle of the road, a person on his ‘phone and a small child lying in the roadway so I imagined that everyone would be ‘phoning the police and ambulance. There was also something quite interesting. At another road junction was a guy digging a hole in the road from underneath. To protect his head when he came out he had a wooden box that he put over the hole and he put his head in it to work. One car came over and flattened it. He raised his head again and another car stopped. This was a side-lift fork lift truck and it began to lift up this box. It lifted up this guy and his girlfriend with it and pulled them out of the hole. This began a huge argument and dispute with a lot of name-calling. When I arrived back at my little hostel place whatever there was another couple there being interviewed for signing in. They were two young people, quite tall, quite well-built and speaking in a North American accent. After they had signed in, they came into the room where the rest of us were sitting and asked if there were any other Canadians in here. I was on the point of working out whether I should speak to them in English or French to see whether they were Québecois or Anglophone.

That was a totally strange dream too, tunnelling up to the road surface and putting a box over your head and then being pulled out by a side-life forklift truck. There’s no doubt that my dreams are usually quite interesting, even if I have no idea of what has brought them to the forefront.

The nurse was late today. He’d probably had a lie-in too . He didn’t hag around long, so I could make my breakfast and read MY BOOK.

Apart from the usual scything and scathing remarks directed at his contemporaries, he notes that two of his colleagues consider that "a tall, broad-headed, dark-haired, light-eyed people ’, whom they regard as the descendants of the men of the Bronze Age ’, formerly inhabited Aberdeenshire, but were driven inland by later blond immigrants, who were shorter and had narrower heads ….. But is it the fact?" and then devotes a couple of pages in rubbishing their theories.

However, remember a week or so when we were discussing the presence of stone circles, menhirs … "PERSONhirs" – ed … and “nothing”? It looks to me as if his two colleagues do have some kind of case worth arguing.

On page 428 of his book, he attacks the arguments of a colleague by saying that "Very likely the round-headed race which he has in mind did not make its way across Europe unmixed ; but the mixture did not greatly diminish the roundness"

However, on page 445, he attacks another one of his colleagues because "his arguments, which I have examined fully elsewhere, do not prove that the dominant Celts among the Belgae were dark, but simply that, before they invaded Britain, they had become largely intermixed with an older dark population, and that, since they reached this country, they and their descendants have intermarried with people darker than themselves"

Leaving aside the question about “intermarriage” and that any cross-breeding of invader and native inhabitant is more likely to be by violence than by a priest turning up to bless the union, I’m trying now to work out how “crossbreeding” can cause one characteristic to be inherited to some great extent but not another to at least the same extent.

Back in here afterwards, there was football to watch. Clyde peppering the East Fife goal with shots and East Fife just having three shots on goal. Anyone care to guess the score?

And why was I watching that game? Because, once more, Stranraer’s game was postponed. And that’s just as well because Stranraer seems to have lost half its team in this transfer window so far.

Once the football was finished, I had the soundtrack of two radio programme notes to edit.

The first one was quite straightforward and hardly needed anything at all editing out – just the odd second or two which is no big deal.

The second one was this complicated concert and its notes. That overran by well over a minute and it’s really ironic that part of the vocal introduction that had given me some of the most difficulty was one of the parts that ended in the bin. It’s always like that, isn’t it?

The joins however where I’ve had to fade songs in and out and edit in a few rounds of applause seem to be done perfectly. I’m listening to it right now and I’m really impressed with those. But strange as it is, I’ve been using this sound-editing program for ten years and I’m still finding out tips and hints about it and making it work better for me.

There were several breaks – for making soup and a bread roll for a start. It was a beautiful leek and potato soup today with a pot of soya yoghurt and plenty of black pepper stirred in. The fresh bread roll, hot out of the air-fryer, made all the difference.

Later on, there was pizza dough to make. That went well too, and there are now two balls in the freezer and the third I rolled out, assembled and baked. And that was perfect.

So what’s going to happen at the Dialysis Centre tomorrow? Will it be another three and a half hours of excruciating agony? I don’t see what else it could be. In any respect I’m not looking forward to it.

But going back to these stone circles … "well, one of us is" – ed … archaeologists were puzzled by a strange, fossilised spiky animal that they had unearthed when they were excavating a stone circle somewhere
The took it to the Natural History Museum and found the curator. They asked him if he could identify it
"We found it when we were excavating that stone circle" said an archaeologist. "Do you know what it is?"
"Now that you told me where you found it, of course I do" said the curator. "It can only be a hengehog!"

Saturday 11th January 2025 – WHAT A CALAMITY …

… this whole day has been. Everything that could possibly go wrong has gone wrong today, but these days it’s becoming par for the course. I’m beginning to think that I must have kicked a black cat or walked under a ladder somewhere on my travels, and it all seems to be coming home to roost.

Even going to bed last night. It was well after midnight and I was still letting it all hang out before I staggered off into my stinking pit. But at least I was asleep quite quickly, and there I stayed, snug as a bug in a rug, until 07:00.

When the alarm went off, it took me quite a good few minutes to gather my wits which is a surprise seeing how few I actually have left these days, but even so I managed to beat the second alarm to my feet and headed off to the bathroom

Clothes-washing this morning. My night attire and undies went into the sink after I’d finished washing myself, and the clothes had a good wash through. And there they went, onto the octopus that hangs from the shower rail.

In the kitchen I had my medication, remembering not to take the anti-potassium stuff, and then I tidied up all of the shopping bags that were lying around all over the place. The place has to look tidy at least occasionally, even if I can’t manage that all the time.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. Once more back on Middle Earth with a bunch of men and women and in this theme I dreamed that women were people and apologists being shown around. One question that came up was about some visitor to here from a while ago who was sitting on top of a plank that was on top of a paint tin that was stuck on the top of some kind of column. He was doing this in the 13th Century. They were pointing out to him that he had people listening on the news and watching on the television watching what he was doing and he had to hold his foot in his mouth in a certain position when the cameras were filming him so that it would provide an illusion with the camera. They asked him why he was there and whether he followed TNS. He replied “no, it was the other European teams that interested him like Y Fflint and Connah’s Quay” where he could follow them and experience the real atmosphere. But even in the other clubs the opportunity to speak Welsh was presented to him by having to carry out the PA reports in Welsh. The aim of this plank on this pot of paint was so that he could balance it in the one direction so that it wouldn’t actually fall off the plank. He could sit there and watch it or rugby if he so desired, sitting on his plank and have been sat there, really … indecipherable … that was a free seat or something. He was sitting on a big expensive paid type of free seat that didn’t give the right results.

Whatever that was all about, I really have no idea. None of it makes sense, especially the bit about Y Fflint qualifying for Europe. But quite honestly, this was one of the strangest dreams that I have ever had, and I’ve had a few of those.

The nurse was early today and he had a few things to say for himself. But he didn’t stay long and I could press on and make my breakfast

Armed with my porridge, toast, purée and coffee, I had another read of MY BOOK. Our hero is certainly letting his polemic run away with him now and is making no effort whatever to hide his contempt of his contemporaries.

He’s also tying himself up in knots with the different strands of the Celtic language.

There are two principal strands, the “P” strand which is Welsh, Cornish, Breton and maybe Galician; and the “Q” strand, which is the Irish, the Manx and the Gael. There are certainly similarities between the two, for example, there are surnames. In Wales, “son of” is “Mab” (mutated to “Map”) and in Scotland it’s Maq (modernised into “Mac”) which is why in Wales a surname might be “Map Hywell” which over time has become “Powell”, or “Map Reece” – now “Preece” whereas in Scotland it’s “MacAdam” or “MacArthur”.

The Welsh name for the British Isles is “Prydain” (from where “Britain” comes) and our hero is trying to tie the name in with the name “Pict” for the Pictish inhabitants of Northern Scotland, with the argument that they were “Q Strand Celts’ who were formerly the settlers of the whole island before the “P Strand Celts” arrived. But what I don’t understand is that if they were the “Q strand Celts”, why do they have a name that begins with a P?

It’s perfectly true that some of the very early Mediterraneans like Pytheas reported their name, but surely he would have found it out by speaking to them and asking them, especially if the name of the islands had been taken from their tribal or generic name and later mutated into Britannia.

Sometimes I find it very difficult and confusing to follow our author’s arguments.

Back in here I carried on with my radio programme editing and by the time that I’d finished I had something that might actually pass muster. And if it works, it really will be impressive.

It wasn’t that I actually finished but that my cleaner came along and surprised me again. She soon had my patches on me and after a little chat she left me to await the taxi.

And wait. And wait.

Eventually there was a ‘phone call. It was my driver. "I’m sorry I’m late, Mr Hall. I’m in Avranches. I’ll be another half-hour".

So where does that leave me with my anaesthetic?

After about 25 minutes another driver turned up. He’d come from St Hilaire du Harcoet to drop someone off at St Pair so they sent him here to pick me up on his return journey. At least that’s the one big advantage of being a client of one of Normandy’s biggest taxi companies. They have drivers everywhere.

We had to pick up our other passenger too, and then we had a really rapid drive down to Avranches.

Horribly late at Avranches, everyone else was already plugged in so I was seen straight away. The first pin went in totally and absolutely painlessly. I didn’t feel a thing. As for the second, that really hurt. However, it wasn’t working so they had to take it out and insert it again.

And if, dear reader, you ever want to know what pain is all about, I recommend that you go to your local Dialysis Clinic and ask them to try that out on you.

So swathed in ice to deaden the arm and the pain, I could relax.

There was football on the internet and with the lightning-fast connection there, I could watch the game in comfort. Y Bala v Caernarfon, with the winner taking a gigantic leap towards the European Qualification playoffs.

This was actually one of the best games that I have ever seen. Y Bala were the much more technical team but the Cofis are one of the fastest teams in Europe and while their style is more “agricultural” they can tear a more static team to shreds.

And this was precisely how the game went. It was one of non-stop action and excitement and the Cofis caught out Y Bala several tims with their lightning pace. And they made two of those attacks count. You can see the highlights of the game HERE

So now, Y Bala must win their final match this half season against Connah’s Quay (which the Quay must do too) on Tuesday night, and hope that Caernarfon lose at home to Y Fflint.

Eventually I was unplugged and, hours later than usual, the taxi was already waiting for me. It was one of my favourite drivers too and we almost always (except last weekend) have a good chat.

We were halfway home, on the by-pass around Sartilly, when her data head pinged. “Pick up Mr … for Granville”.

That’s the guy who is dialysed with me and he must be ready. This is going to be a very long night for the driver so "it’s OK. Let’s do a U-turn at the next roundabout" I suggested. No sense leaving him waiting and making the driver’s day any longer than it has to be.

As a result, it was after my usual tea-time when I arrived back. And as a result, everything is running really late, yet again.

There’s stuff to dictate of course, and then I’ll go to bed. But I’m never going to have this early night that I need so badly.

But this thing about asking other people to tell you what is someone’s name can lead to all kinds of confusion.
Once upon a time I had to write down a woman’s particulars.
When I finished she asked me "do you want my husband’s name too?"
"That’s right" I replied. "I need to have his name. What’s he called?"
"Well" she replied "There are a lot of names that I call him. But if I told you what they were, I bet that you wouldn’t write them down on your form."

Tuesday 31st December 2024 – BY THE TIME …

… that you lot read this, the old year will have gone out and it’ll be a new year. For many people it will be a new beginning too, but for many others it will be more of the same old routine.

25 years ago today we were eagerly awaiting the Millennium. I’d given an interview on Belgian TV (in Flemish, of course) a few days earlier and on New Year’s Eve I was sitting in a bar in a motel in a small town on an island off the coast of New Jersey.

We were partying, of course. I was wearing a hat to which I had tied a helium balloon. I’d tied the hat to me all the same with just enough string so that the hat, by virtue of the balloon, was floating an inch or so above my head and it looked really cool.

The Continental USA has five time zones and so we celebrated New Year for New York, then for Chicago, then for Denver, then for San Francisco, and finally for Anchorage.

Once we had celebrated New Year in Anchorage, we all trundled off to the all-night petrol station and convenience store down the road where we bought a big tub of ice cream and with a spoon each, we tucked in. Then a couple of us walked down to the beach and waited for the dawn to break and for all of the hope that we wanted it to bring.

But look at me now, 25 years later. Never mind crossing the Atlantic, I’m struggling to cross my bedroom and my best hope for the New Year is that they can somehow resolve the issue of this painful dialysis.

How the Mighty have fallen.

So if I have any advice for anyone in this coming year it is "if you feel like doing something, do it now, right now, before it’s too late. Because you become much more ill and infirm much quicker than you think."

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, I stayed up last night, loitering around for my own pleasure reading a few web pages about this and that, although not about “the other” of course. That boat sailed a long time ago.

It was 01:00 when I finally crawled into bed and then I slept the Sleep of the Dead until the alarm awoke me. I hadn’t moved at all during the night.

When I awoke though I was in the middle of an exciting dream but the moment I went to reach for the dictaphone it all evaporated, every last drop of thought and that is really a tragedy. I only hope that it didn’t involve Castor, TOTGA or Zero.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and sorted myself out, and then came back in here to wait for Isabelle the Nurse.

While I was waiting, I had a listen to the dictaphone to see if there was anything on it from the night. I was in work again. It was one of the very last days of work before Christmas so we weren’t doing very much. We were sitting around, talking and playing some kind of game that went on round and round the building. after lunch, I was late back. There were already six or seven people in this group. Our boss was there, the big boss of the building. He told us that we may as well continue this game and he’d actually like to play it with us too, so he joined in. Just then, his ‘phone rang so he answered it. It was a woman, asking for permission to be in late tomorrow because her husband worked at Knorr and they were doing something at 09:00. He replied that that wasn’t a problem. Then what he said was that he had a whole host of adverts that he’d cut out of the papers and he was going to ring round and speak to everyone to find out who they were, what they were doing and whether we knew all about them. I had something of a thought myself because my ‘phone number was also in that lot. He made a start and I could see that he was coming closer to my number in this pile. I’d worked out what I was going to say, and that was that this was just simply a way that I could use as an aide-memoire to make sure that I’d filled in all my forms on time and sent them in, and that would be really all.

Whatever was going on in that dream, I can’t think of how it relates to anything that I might know, especially why Knorr should feature in it so prominently. But then nothing in my dreams ever makes sense – just like in real life, I suppose.

Later on, we’d been playing football in a 5-a side football tournament. We were waiting for our final matches to start. My brother told me that his match was in a couple of minutes. I said something like “so is my final match”. We went to our various respective areas of this field. I played my game and when I came back I couldn’t find my brother. I searched and searched but with no luck so in the end I went home. Being back home, first of all I was shouted at for being late and then shouted at for losing my brother but I told the story of the final games and I still don’t think that they believed me but they were becoming completely agitated. Just then we heard the front door downstairs open. We thought “is this him?” I looked out of the door and down the stairs. It was my old black cat. She sat at the bottom of the stairs miaowing for a couple of minutes. I kept on talking to her. In the end she ran up the wall and across into our room. I picked her up, stroked her and took her back into the room where my parents were. They seemed more relieved to see the cat than any news about my brother

This is what I call “unlikely”. There would be no chance whatever of my brother ever playing football. And being shouted at was nothing compared to what would have happened had I lost my brother somewhere.

It was interesting watching my old black cat climb up the wall but she is the only member of my family whom I would be pleased to see. Why the others keep on appearing so often is something that completely defeats me and I wish that they’d move out of my head and make room for some others to appear.

Isabelle was late today. First day back so I imagine that she had all of the blood tests and injections to do. But she was her usual chatty self and she complimented me on being the only person up here to have some kind of Christmas decoration visible to the public.

After she left I made breakfast, and that was when I discovered that I’d run out of bread and had forgotten to make any more yesterday evening. And so I had to have a quick breadmaking session first.

While I was waiting for the dough to rise I had breakfast and read MY BOOK.

Today we are discussing housing, coinage and religion but it is the “religion” bit that is the most interesting, and not for the more obvious reasons either.

It’s long-been a mystery to me why so many Welsh words seem to come from the Latin, even though the words describe some vital item that surely must have existed and had a name prior to the coming of the Romans. Anyway our author tells us, in an aside, that "Celtic religion, in so far as it was descended from the religion of the undivided Aryan stock, was fundamentally one with the religions of Italy and Greece ; and we might expect that it would resemble most closely the religion of the Italians, to whose tongue Celtic was most nearly akin."

There is a variety of early Italian languages, like Etruscan and Umbrian to name but two, that preceded the Latin language. And if the root of these words in common usage was derived from words in one of these early Italian languages that later influenced the Latin language, that would explain everything.

It’s not as far-fetched as it sounds. The word for a snake in Welsh is neidr which sounds uncannily like “adder” and a river in Welsh is afon, pronounced “Avon”, so you can see that Modern English has been influenced by words from an ancient Celtic language. Why wouldn’t this work with any other languages?

After breakfast I carried on making the bread and by the time that I finished, I had the best loaf that I have ever made and I was really impressed with that. While it was baking I tidied up around the kitchen and regrettably, dropped and broke one of my best glass storage jars

Then I had to check the radio programme that I’ll be sending off later. And this is that mega-complicated one that took me weeks of thought and work to make. But listening to it, it really does work and there’s a pile of good stuff in it.

It features someone who was born in 1892 and probably never ever met a rock musician in his life but he’s an important personage in the story of rock music, and it’s well-worth a listen. So tune in to LE BOUQUET GRANVILLAIS on Friday or Saturday at 21:00 CET, 20:00 UK time, 15:00 Toronto time.

There was an unexpected visit today. The woman who is President of the Residents’ Committee and who helped me so much with the purchase of the apartment downstairs came to see how I was. She stayed for an hour or so too chatting away. And she was another one who admired my Christmas lights, so I had a moan to her about the lack of festive spirit shown by everyone else.

For lunch I tried one of my new flapjack slices and this batch is the best that I have ever made too. Pushing the mixture down tightly into the baking tray with a potato masher is definitely the way to go here.

My cleaner turned up today instead of tomorrow and helped me into the shower. And once more, it really was lovely. Only five months to go until I can move downstairs and have a real shower.

While I was showering she was cleaning so there’s a nice clean apartment and a nice clean me in nice clean clothes. How long all of that will last, I really don’t know.

Football was on next – Penybont v Cardiff Metropolitan, and once again at the vital moment Penybont threw away a two-goal lead. They went from 2-0 to 2-3 against TNS a few weeks ago and tonight, they went from 2-0 to 2-2. They have now been knocked off the top of the table.

A match played in a howling gale was always going to be a lottery but the Met, playing with the wind and a 6’4″ centre-forward in the second half managed the conditions much better and had Penybont under the cosh for most of the last 45 minutes.

If Penybont have any aspirations in challenging TNS at the top, they are going to have to look at the question of concentration much more closely. They can’t let matches slip out of their grasp like this.

Tea tonight was the last of the frozen wellingtons with a big pile of veg and gravy, followed by Christmas pudding and custard. But as for the veg, the roast potatoes and roast Butternut squash went down really well.

There are some leeks left so at the weekend, it may well be leek soup for lunch. There’s some butternut squash soup in the fridge for tomorrow.

So now I’m going to loiter around for a while before going to bed. Isabelle isn’t coming so I can lie in.
"I’ll give you a ring to see how you are tomorrow morning" she said instead
"No you won’t" I replied. "I’ll be in bed"
"I’ll leave it late then" she said. "About 11:30"
"No you won’t. I’ll still be in bed then!"

Anyway, just before I go, latest news from Bridgend in that Penybont FC’s dog walking service has collapsed.
"Why is that?" I asked my informant
"They have lost all of their contracts"
"What happened?"
"Apparently no-one is letting them take their dogs for a walk, seeing as how they are totally incapable of hanging on to a lead."

Thursday 26th December 2024 – MY CHRISTMAS PUDDING …

… is just as excellent and tasty as last year.

For pudding tonight I tried a helping with some nice custard and it really was delicious. This lot will be all gone at the end of this holiday season and I’ll have to make some more for next year if I’m still here, and I hope that if I do, it will be just as tasty as that which will have gone before.

Anyway, retournons à nos moutons as they say around here. Last night, it was quite late by the time that I’d finished my notes and done my backing-up, but I didn’t go straight to bed. It’s the holiday season so I stayed up and listened to some of my live concerts from the past.

One of them that came round was a Lindisfarne concert, the one at Newcastle upon Tyne City Hall in either 1977 or 1978. It’s the best time to listen to Lindisfarne, Christmas-time, especially with one of their Newcastle ones.

And they have some very happy memories for me. There was a big Lindisfarne fan club, of which I was a member, at school and I went to see the group in 1971. That was the famous concert where most of the group were locked out, leaving the harmonica player alone on stage playing his 10-minute harmonica solo for 25 minutes, and where I led my rather young girlfriend astray, much to the anger of her parents.

OH WHAT IT IS TO BE YOUNG, hey?

So somewhere round about 02:00 I called it a night and staggered off to bed, and there I stayed, sound asleep until about 07:40.

Yes, 07:40. I’d decided that as it was a Bank Holiday I’d set the “Sunday” alarm, which goes off at 08:00. However something rather dramatic awoke me. Once more, I’ve no idea what it was but I was awake, bolt-upright, with no possibility of going back to sleep.

When the alarm went off at 08:00 I was already up and about, having a good wash and a good shave just in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon. Then back in here to listen to the dictaphone and await the arrival of the nurse. There was a group of natives wandering around somewhere. I happened to join them as part of their trip was taking me past one of the sites that I wanted to visit. I noticed that for breakfast every morning two guys there ate nothing but breakfast so I asked the chief what was the story behind this. He replied that whatever it was (…fell asleep here …) anyway the special meal that they had was taco rolls. They made the taco themselves by heating oil in a pan and dropping a few spoonfuls of this liquid in it. The heat caused the liquid to solidify into the taco and was really quite nice and was going to save me all of £20:00 on the delivery

So I’m now writing cooking recipes in my dreams. But that recipe is pretty much like a Breton crèpe recipe or even how bread would be baked out on the trail in the Nineteenth Century in North America and elsewhere, and probably even today in certain places. And if it’s going to save me twenty quid with every LeClerc delivery, then I’ll certainly be trying it.

The nurse didn’t stay long today. He was in and out and that was that. Then I could make breakfast and continue to read MY BOOK.

We’re now wandering around Dartmoor, where "like the people who dwelt on the Yorkshire Wolds, the inhabitants were poor and backward ; for the extreme scarcity of spindle- whorls and the abundance of the flint scrapers used for leather-dressing that lay scattered in their abodes seem to show that they were commonly clad in skins"

One thing that the upland areas of the British Isles, like Dartmoor and the Yorkshire Wolds, had in common and in abundance, was wildlife. Down in the fertile valleys and lowland plains, the pressure of population would have meant that most of the wild animals would either have been driven off or hunted. There would still be plenty up in the hills, so there would be plenty to skin and catch, and no need to make clothing out of cloth

This way of thinking can be seen in places like Canada. Stone and then brick have long-since been used in the construction of houses in most Western countries but they are still built in wood in rural Canada because there is just so much of it so close by.

After breakfast I came back in here for a relax for a couple of hours and then had to go to prepare myself for departure.

It’s a good job that we were ready early tonight because the taxi, booked for 12:30, turned up at 12:08. The driver has to go up the coast to pick up someone else and seeing as he was already in Granville, he thought that he may as well come here first.

Not that I’m complaining. These new Social Security rules means that I’m having loads of guided tours of all different parts of Normandy, seeing the sights and so on. It’s getting me out of the house and, as regular readers of this rubbish have remarked, I ought to get out more often.

Having picked up our passenger we had a belt all the way down the express road south and then off towards Avranches, where we arrived early.

Just for a change, I was one of the first to be plugged in and although the first pin was totally painless, the second one killed me. I have never had such a painful experience in the Dialysis Centre as this one, and I can still feel it even now.

There were no interruptions today, which was just as well. After I’d had my usual doze, I watched the football – Caernarfon v TNS.

Caernarfon were doing really well at one stage, with the score at 2-2, but two killer goals in just a couple of minutes killed off the tie and TNS even scored a fifth later in the game.

TNS’s play was much more technical and competent, but Caernarfon’s tactics of the long ball over the top for Louis Lloyd, their lightning-fast winger to chase, had TNS’s rather pedestrian defence in a few difficulties here and there.

After they disconnected me I went to look for my taxi and it was already outside so, for a change, I was home really early after all of that. The driver who brought me home was the young, chatty lad and we had an interesting conversation all the way home.

Coming back up the stairs was easier tonight than it has ever been in recent times, and I was soon back in here where I watched the highlights of the rest of today’s games. And today’s results, with Llansawel’s dramatic victory against Cardiff Met, means that Y Drenewydd have been sucked into the relegation dogfight.

Tea tonight was a delicious leftover curry with naan bread followed by a delicious Christmas pudding and custard (I still have a small amount of custard powder left)

So now that I’ve finished my notes I’m going to hang around for a while before going to bed and have sweet dreams of Castor, Zero and TOTGA.

But talking about that dream of making taco rolls and home-made field bread … "well, one of us is" – ed … the recipe is actually in the Boy Scout cookbook
The Scouts were introduced by Lord Baden Powell when the British Army was blockaded by a group of recalcitrant Dutch farmers in Mafeking in South Africa. He became a War hero and later went on to write a book to encourage young boys to take up the outdoor life.
One day, someone went into a bookshop in London and asked "may I have a copy of Lord Baden Powell’s autobiography, please?"
"He never wrote an autobiography" said the sales assistant. "He only ever wrote one book. It’s called ‘Scouting for Boys’"
"Isn’t that his autobiography then?"

Sunday 22nd December 2024 – I SOMETIMES WONDER …

… where I’d be now if I head my head switched on all the time, instead of just occasionally in the odd, rare flashing moments of inspiration.

But when it does happen, it reminds me of Kenneth Williams who once famously said "sometimes I’m taken aback by my own brilliance".

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that for a number of weeks now I’ve been having a really hard time in the kitchen, as standing on my feet for several hours is killing me completely.

So this morning, as Isabelle the nurse was oiling my legs and fitting my compression socks and I had my leg resting on the stool for the electronic drum kit, I suddenly thought “stool”.

For weeks now I’ve wanted one of these screw stools, where the seat is adjustable for height, so I could sit in the kitchen at the right height when I’m working and just swivel round to reach for what I needed. And there this morning, I thought “drum stool”.

Sure enough, when I had a look at my stool I found that the seat was adjustable for height. Not as much as I would like, but it made a real difference. For much of the day I’ve been working in the kitchen and being quite comfortable about it, because I’ve been sitting down and that makes quite a difference.

But returning to last night, after I’d finished my notes and everything that I had to do, I dictated the radio notes that I’d written last week and then went to bed. it was 23:40 which meant that although it was later than my ideal time of 23:00, the alarm was set for 08:00 so I was due for a decent, long sleep.

Or so I thought.

It might have been that I was asleep quite quickly, but it didn’t stay like that. It was another night of fitful sleep, tossing and turning and drenched in sweat like a few nights have been after the dialysis.. By 07:40 I decided to call it a day and when the alarm went off at 08:00 I was already up and about

Isabelle the nurse was early to day. There are no blood tests to perform as the laboratory is closed on Sundays. She did what we had to and we talked about the storm, the train cancellations and the cancellation of the Christmas parade.

The storm – yes. It’s a permanent fixture now. We have another one blowing like a hurricane. All trains along the coastal line between Caen, Granville and Rennes are cancelled and as I said just now, the Christmas parade is cancelled too.

After she left I made breakfast and then read MY NEW BOOK.

We’re discussing Palaeolithic, Stone Age Britain at the moment and in particular, the religious element.

The author, Thomas Rice Holmes, is struck with the idea that the Ancient Briton worshipped his weapons and prayed to his God to bless them. However, I have another theory.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I’m a great believer in the existence of the sixth sense. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that a few months ago we discussed how it was possible to stare at someone from a window, and after a while they would suddenly turn round and look up at you. Did anyone try it?

So what I’m thinking about this devotion or prayer is that it isn’t devotion or prayer at all. It’s ancient, prehistoric man concentrating hard on his weapon and transferring some of his mysticism and will to it so that when he would throw it, it would travel straight and true in accordance with its owner’s wishes.

Of course, that’s not so far removed from praying, but I think that it’s important to identify it correctly. But what do I know anyway?

There’s an interesting quote in the book that certainly struck a chord with me. He quotes an unknown author who once said "as I moved from place to place, I somehow seemed to know less and less, and I cannot say what would have been the result" That is something to which I can really relate.

But while we’re on the subject of Thomas Rice Holmes … "well, one of us is" – ed … I had a look on the internet to see what was known about him. I mentioned the other day his love of polemic and light-hearted “frank exchanges of views”, and someone called Bill Thayer, a commentator on ancient texts, notes that amongst Rice Holmes and his contemporaries, there was "a flurry of argument and counter-argument"

It looks as if I’m going to be in for a bumpy ride.

After reading my book, I started work, armed with my revolving stool.

First thing was to make some dough. If I’m having soup at lunchtime, I’m having fresh bread so I want to make a bap. One thing about the air fryer is that you can cook small amounts of bread so 100 grams of flour made a lovely bread mix, which I left to fester.

And then, people, I marzipanned my Christmas cake. The marzipan rolled out nicely and with some of the jam that my friends in Macon gave me last time I was there, it stuck a treat to the Christmas cake. Then the cake went back into the fridge to cool down

Back in here, I listened to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. Someone came round to the house for a taxi. While he was waiting for a taxi to pull up, he began to nibble away at all my cheese on the kitchen worktop. After a couple of minutes I told him that if he doesn’t stop I’m going to charge him for it. He carried on nibbling so I had a look at the shopping list and said “right, that’s £1:60 for the cheese”. He replied “oh no, it’s £0:60”. I insisted on £1:60 and if he didn’t like it he could clear off. He cleared off, uttering all kinds of threats like dancing up and down on the vehicles, making a noise, slitting the tyres etc. I told him that anyone who does anything to any of my vehicles would need a very good doctor. Then he left. When I came back in the girl on the radio said “you’d better go to see your brother in law. His car’s on fire”. Just then a car pulled up. Two passengers, a very young girl and a woman alighted and so did my youngest sister’s husband. I had a look underneath it. It looked clean and tidy, and I couldn’t see anything. A asked “are you sure that this car has caught fire?”. He replied “the little girl is”. I replied “I can’t see anything at all under here that shows any sign of flames”.

The one thing that I miss since I’ve been on this vegan diet is the cheese. I used to love cheese and I could eat tons of it. But not any more, unfortunately. Vegan cheese is a very poor substitute. It’s just over 32 years – October 1992 in fact – since my pancreas gave out. And all the meat in my freezer that I had to give away that night when I came home from the doctor’s!

At the hospital they had given me four options –
1) – transplant. But the transplant was in its infancy and the success rate wasn’t assured.
2) – injections every day. But then I’d lose my professional driving licences
3) – die
4) – try to control it by diet, eliminating all animal fats

So while I went onto this extreme diet overnight, I thought that I may as well go the whole hog too so apart from that evening up on that mountain in Bulgaria with Percy Penguin and a host of other skiers lost in the fog in 1994, not a drop of alcohol has crossed my lips.

And it worked too. I lost 10kg almost immediately and in Brussels a couple of months later I started running again. And as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I was still running up until just two or three years ago.

Later on, I had to go to see a psychiatrist or psychologist or someone or other so I took myself off to his premises. It turned out to be a shop somewhere in the Ardennes and he was the shopkeeper. He was busy serving people so I sat myself down in the corner, took up my laptop and began to work. After a while he finished serving his customers and came over. I put everything away. He asked “you aren’t working today are you?”. I explained that I was always working. He was astonished by that. He said “we aren’t all that enthusiastic about work here in the Ardennes”. I replied “I can see that, looking at some of these dusty shops that need a good clean”. He smiled and just then another customer came in and was waiting to be served. I told him that he had a customer. He replied “so what?”. I asked “aren’t you going to serve her?”. He grudgingly picked himself up and wandered off over there and I took out my laptop again anfd began to work.

Having done that, this dream restarted when he came back and sat down on the bench by me. I said “I hear that you have been having trouble to pee”. I wondered how he’d heard that. I hadn’t said anything to him about that up until that moment just then.

Anyone who wants to go to see a psychiatrist needs his head examined. Quite But here’s another dream into which I stepped back later. What can’t I do that whenever Zero, Castor or TOTGA come around? I can’t imagine wanting to do that with a psychiatrist. I must need my head examining.

And that reminds me – the trick cyclist from the hospital hasn’t been to see me for ages. Has she forgotten me too?

Finally, I was at school and had been into town for lunch. I’d ended up in a big shoe shop, toy shop, department store. The queues were enormous and I had to fight my way around. There were people queueing on the stairs and I had a great deal of difficulty trying to go down them. People were going down either side of these people queueing on the stairs, making things even more difficult. Eventually I could extract myself and head back to school. I heard a voice behind me say “oh there’s someone else late for school. Let’s run and see if we can beat him and he’ll be last”. I made it back to school first and the teacher was already in my classroom teaching so I slunk in and sat at my seat, late again. He was already talking to the kids about the “Dirty Harry”, or was it “The Godfather” films, asking how long this series continued. Someone said “fifteen years” but he replied that in fact it was thirty years, which surprised everyone. Then we began to discuss the plot for another film. I began to dream about Eastwood who had been on a mission somewhere and had met a lonely girl in a bar. He’d spent the evening with her and then gone his separate ways. Next morning he’d looked for her name in the ‘phone book, went to a florist’s and ordered some flowers and sent them to her. Then, as arranged, went round to see her in the afternoon. He had a gold-coloured sports car in which he took off from the side of the kerb on the wrong side of the road and had to weave in through the traffic to do a U-turn and then headed off. He reached the address where there were a few people wandering around. Some woman came up to him and said something about him being in his work clothes. He asked “how do you know?”. She replied “you’ve changed since you were here last night”. He asked the people what was going on. Someone said “it’s a woman”. he worked out that it was the woman whom he’d come to see. “She’d committed suicide last night just after you had gone”. It turned out that she had a gunshot wound in the neck from previously. When he’d given her a playful karate chop he’d missed that gunshot wound by millimetres. He was wondering what on earth had happened that had made her want to commit suicide because she was certainly the kind who was depressed, being lonely in a bar but he thought that his presence would have cheered her up a little

It’s been a long time since I’ve had an epic dream like that. It’s one of these major ones that keep on going and going and it’s a shame that there was no nice young female involved with me appearing in that dream, as there sometimes is. It’s interesting though that there’s a “dream within a dream”. We’ve had a few of those where we’ve managed to move up a level. Not quite the 25th level, about which Dennis Wheatley used to brag, but a step up all the same

And here I am, scriptwriting in the night too. Is there no end to my nocturnal talents?

Back in the kitchen, I made my broccoli stalk soup, remembering to put the little pasta elbows in today. My bread went up like a lift, the best that I’ve ever made, and the soup was totally delicious with a tub of soya yoghurt tipped into it. What a nice lunch that was!

Then it was mince pie time. I have two rolls of puff pastry but I only used one. That made the bases and tops for five pies which is a nice number over Christmas. And in my silicon pie mould, five pies used half a jar of mincemeat. At this rate there will be enough mincemeat in stock for five more years

Football was next, Stranraer against Stirling Albion, who had a friend of mine in goal. And I have never seen so many open goals missed by Stranraer or saved by David Gaston. Some phrase concerning stringed musical instruments and the nether regions of certain ruminant animals sprung to my mind as I watched Stranraer miss open goal after open goal.

They finally managed to score right at the end of the game, only for Stirling to roar upfield and score an equaliser with probably their only shot of the game.

There won’t be another game like that ever again.

Making dough was next. I’ve run out for the pizza and that’s a calamity so I made a 500 gram mix, put two lumps in the freezer and the third lump I used as tonight’s meal.

Next was icing the Christmas cake. And despite it being cold, the icing kept on sliding down the side and I had to keep on spreading it back up. But that icing knife that I bought from Noz is a great tool to have. It made the job much easier than it might have been

While I was assembling the pizza I had the oven on, baking the mince pies. Now they are done and they look delicious. My pizza was delicious too.

You might think that after all of that, with the pudding that’s in the freezer, I’m ready for Christmas. But that’s not so. While I was working this afternoon I kept on thinking, as I was talking to Rosemary (I managed that too) “thers’s something else that I’ve forgotten”.

And now I know what it is. I forgot the hash browns.

So that will be the job tomorrow before I go to the Dialysis Clinic.

As well as all of that and chatting to Rosemary, I’ve been working on some of the radio notes too, and I’m exhausted which is no surprise.

In a few minutes, I’ll be off to bed. And then it’ll start all over again tomorrow. It’s relentless

But while we’re on the subject of football, dreams and psychiatrists … "well, one of us is" – ed … I once went to see a psychiatrist (well, I actually went more than once, but that’s another story)
"Doctor doctor" I said "I’m having these terrible dreams. I’ve seen all these ants playing football in the Ants World Cup. We’ve had a round of thirty-two, then a round of sixteen, then a round of eight, then a round of four. It’s driving me out of my mind, doctor. Please help me"
"Well, never mind" said the doctor. "Take this prescription to the chemist, have it made up and take two of the tablets tonight. I promise you – you’ll sleep like a baby and you won’t have any dreams at all"
"Ohh – I can’t do that tonight doctor" I said
"Why not?"
"Well, they are playing in the final tonight and I don’t want to miss that!"

Friday 20th December 2024 – WHEN THE ALARM …

… went off this morning, I was already sitting at my desk working.

Round about 05:20 I awoke all of a sudden, bolt-upright for no reason that I could fathom.

Despite trying my best to go back to sleep, by the time that 06:00 came round, I’d given it up as a bad job and rose up from the Dead. No sense wasting the early morning when I have plenty to do

It’s amazing really. It doesn’t matter how much I think that I have done on the previous day, it all starts again the following morning. It’s absolutely relentless.

Last night I was late going to bed too. It was almost midnight when I slithered into my stinking pit and I was soon asleep. And there I stayed until 05:20, as I said just now.

By 06:00 I was in the bathroom having a good wash and scrub up and then into the kitchen for the medication, remembering to take the medication today that I’m not allowed to take on Dialysis Day.

And then, for a change, I made myself a mug of instant coffee to help bring me round into the Land of the Living.

First thing that I did was to check the dictaphone to find out what I’d been doing during the night. I was with the Hobbits last night. We were baking a cake. Some time later I actually saw the cake appear. It was in my outstretched arm hovering above the bed. I went to reach it, but I couldn’t reach it at all. Every time that I closed my eyes it was still there but when I opened them it had gone again. It was like this for several minutes with me trying to touch it with the cake disappearing at that moment.

Now that was what I call a nightmare, being unable to grab hold of a cake hovering just out of my reach. And I can’t say if I saw it as a nightmare at the time because I have no recollection at all of any of this dream.

And then I was working on the radio last night but the radio was dying out. There was only really me sending stuff in. I was working on the programmes for August. I realised that I had changed my style considerably, that I was really only discussing the music rather than giving some kind of entry and exit to the radio. I’d lost a lot of the spontaneity that it had right at the very beginning. I was wondering what I was going to do about it.

One of the things about which I think quite frequently is how to change the format of my radio but I don’t have the time to think of another way of doing them

There was something else along here in the same dream where I ended up in Middle Earth with a party of dwarves being chased by a group of orcs, something rather like THE HOBBIT which is what I’m currently watching as I eat my evening meal, but that part of the dream is all very confused and didn’t really relate to anything.

It looks as if I have a fixation with Hobbits right now. They say that watching Peter Jackson’s films is hobbit-forming and who am I to disagree?

Later on, I was in bed when I was dreaming but I can’t remember where it figured in or sat in with anything

Now that’s more like one of my dreams. I can’t remember anything at all about it.

But I think that I now know what awoke me this morning. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that every few weeks I complain about a stabbing pain in my right heel, one of the worst pains that I have ever experienced. Every few minutes for about 12 hours there’s the sensation that someone is stabbing a needle into my heel

A couple of weeks ago it had moved into the sole of my foot but today, it’s started up again this morning, this time right behind the little toe and it really does hurt. Every ten minutes as regular as clockwork and I wonder if it was that which had awoken me.

And then I had a foot-fest. ¨Porthmadog FC who play the 3rd Division had put on line the videos of their recent matches in their League Cup so I sat and watched them.

First up was Porthmadog cruising home comfortably 3-0 away from home against Pwllheli. They they took on Llanidloes FC and won even more comfortably, 5-2 at home

Next up was their match against Y Rhyl and there they came unstuck. They managed a 1-1 draw but were knocked out in a penalty shoot-out 6-5.

Casting around, I managed to watch the next round too as Y Phyl took on Mynydd Y Fflint. That was a bad-tempered match, as it usually is when Y Rhyl are playing but for a third-division match there were bags of quality on view.

Y Rhyl won 2-0 but the big talking point is how come both clubs ended up still with eleven players each on the field after all of what went on

Isabelle looked at my foot when she was here, late as usual. She could see nothing but when she touched a certain spot I went through the roof. That hurt, and no mistake, so there’s definitely something going on.

Breakfast was next, and then I carried on with my book, which I finished this morning.

The conclusion is that the site was heavily occupied by a cattle-rearing concern also practising subsistence farming, wheat farming and operating a bakery too. But then the buildings abandoned when the farm was either absorbed into a larger unit of else ceased production completely..

A couple of generations later, it was occupied again for about 50-75 years, but on a much smaller scale and with lesser input from the occupiers.

The presence of some Germanic pottery shards suggests itself to the author of the report that there might have been some itinerant Germans passing through the site, but to me, I was wondering if it might have been settled by some German soldier in service to the Roman Army who had settled here after his military service had ended.

Back in here, next job was to deal with my LeClerc order and send it off. It’s the most expensive order that I’ve ever sent, but it includes quite a few Christmassy things, both for me and for others. As well as that, coffee was on special offer so even though I have a pile, I ordered some more.

For a change, LeClerc had everything that I’d noted down, so it’s my own fault that I forgot the clementines, not theirs

For much of the day I’ve been writing notes for my radio programme. I’m well into September next year so this talk in my dreams of radio programmes for August is already too late. Anyway, by the time that I’d knocked off for the day, everything had been written ready for dictation tomorrow night.

That was impressive because there were plenty of interruptions. For a start, my cleaner came in and now I have light-strings hung in the two windows, in the living room and dining area.

There was also lunch and my hot chocolate break, but finally LeClerc arrived.

In all the time that I’ve been having stuff delivered, I’ve never ever seen as much as this. There’s no room to put away some of it either so it’s going to have to loiter around for a while. But now I have my chicory, my leeks, my shallots and everything that I need. I might not be ready for Christmas, but I’ll have some phenomenal meals.

Mince pies too, which I’ll make on Sunday, because he brought the puff pastry sheets. And two kilos of carrots and a broccoli, so I’ve been dicing, blanching and freezing this afternoon too. And so on Sunday, there will be broccoli stalk soup for lunch, made with carrot-blanching water.

Tea tonight was a lovely vegan salad with air-fried chips and some of those vegan nuggets, followed by ginger cake and soya dessert. Totally delicious, but I’m looking forward now to my Christmas meal

But the final word tonight goes to my faithful cleaner who went down to the chemist’s for the next month’s medication.
As she was going in, a man was coming out in tears so she asked him what was the matter.
"It’s the doctor" he said. "He told me that I have to take one pill per day for the rest of my life"
"No need to be upset" said my cleaner. "You should come back in with me and see all of the medication that Mr Hall has to take for the rest of his life too, and he’s not complaining or crying."
"Well, he would if he had my doctor" said the man
"Why’s that" asked me cleaner
"Well, " said the man, "the chemist has looked at the prescription and only given me four!"

Sunday 15th December 2024 – WHEN THE ALARM …

… went off at 08:00 this morning I was already up and about.

That’s the kind of thing that totally defeats the purpose of having a lie in. I mean – it wasn’t as if I was in bed early either. It was about 00:30 when I finally crawled into bed after dictating the radio notes, so with a later start on Sunday it meant 7:30 hours of sleep in principle, but I didn’t even have that

There wasn’t even much to dictate in the way of radio notes either. Just the notes for one programme so it shouldn’t have taken me that long but these days, prevarication seems to be the way forward. I keep meaning to see some professional about the problems that I have with prevarication but I might do that another side.

So once I was in bed, that was that until all of … errr … 07:15 when I awoke, and couldn’t go back to sleep. After a while I thought that there’s no point in wasting time lying here doing nothing when there is so much that I ought to be doing so I rose up and left the bed.

After having a good wash and scrub up I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone but I didn’t get very far when the nurse came. He forgot to ring on the doorbell from downstairs so he took me somewhat by surprise.

We had “words” again this morning. His very first question was "did you sleep well?"

He knows full well that I don’t because he asks it almost every single day and I always tell him that being a very light sleeper I don’t ever sleep well, so I expressed my discontent with his question, to which he took umbrage.

After he left I had my medication and then made breakfast. Taking it over to the dining room table, I could sit and read ISAAC WELD’S BOOK which, regrettably, I have now finished. And I do have to say that his books would be certainly in my Top 10.

He’s now about to leave New York, and boards his ship "without a sigh, and without entertaining the slightest wish to revisit it."

While he was in Bethlehem he was lucky (if that’s correct) to be invited to visit the Women and Girls’ Home. He makes quite a few interesting observations including "Pink ribands are said to be worn as a badge by those who are inclined to marry; however, I observed that all the unmarried women wore them, not excepting those whose age and features seemed to have excluded them from every chance of becoming the votaries of Hymen" … "he means ‘Hypersons’" – ed …

He notes that Long Island is mainly inhabited by the Dutch (New York was a Dutch colony, “New Amsterdam” until the British took it in 1664) who "have inherited all the coldness, reserve, and covetousness of their ancestors".

He continues by saying that "If you do but ask any simple question relative to the neighbouring country, they will eye you with suspicion and evidently strive to disengage themselves from you; widely different from the Anglo-Americans, whose inquisitiveness in similar circumstances would lead them to a thousand impertinent and troublesome enquiries, in order to discover what your business was in that place, and how they could possibly take any advantage of it."

So having learned more from this one book than any thousand others, I’ve now begun to read the report of the investigation of a Gallo-Roman (not Roman) farm near Chartres. And it’s nothing like as interesting as Isaac Weld’s book, which is a shame. And it’s in French too, so there’s not much point in posting any interesting quotes.

Back in here I listened to the dictaphone. We were on an island in the Western Pacific or was it the Eastern Pacific. The Japanese had suddenly declared war and there were all kinds of attacks taking place. We were on this island when the Japanese were beginning to take a foothold on it. The decision was taken to retreat onto an island off the shore of this island where we could be collected and then decide how best to act. We thought that a headlong flight out of the area would mean that we wouldn’t be back for many years. We had to put up some kind of defence. Gradually everyone began to retreat to this island where they were armed, given weapons etc. I was one of the last to leave. As I went downstairs there was one of the boys at the bottom of the stairs. He was telling me to go out of the stairs and to the left. However there was something going on to the right so I went out to the right. He absolutely had an explosion. When I came to the end of the path there was a boy playing on the beach, a small boy. I wondered about what he was doing. However this other boy came down after me and began to give me a huge lecture about not following his commands, everything like that. I told him that he’d better cheer up a little because I was quite able to go down this path and look at what was going on. I thought that he was behaving like the Japanese, just as he happened to say to me that he thought that I was. Having assured myself that it wasn’t a Japanese patrol that was landing, I went off in the other direction. I eventually ended up in the town from where the ferry over to the other island was sailing. There were all kinds of things happening here. I had to walk through the town and all the action. Then I heard one of my colleagues from work being called over the public address system about the lights on his car. I thought that this is the last thing about which anyone needs to worry at the moment, isn’t it? I gradually made my way down towards the docks where I could catch the ferry over to the island where we could all sit and have a think and start again.

Not that there’s much chance of the Japanese attacking these days. Any conflict in the Pacific Islands is likely to come in that area disputed by China, Vietnam, Indonesia and the Philippines, which, I suppose, is the North Pacific. I’m not sure either why one of the boys from school, about whom I have hardly thought in the last 50-odd years, should suddenly appear.

Apart from that, retreating onto a small island is hardly a sound military strategy, unless we are hoping to be evacuated.

There was some thing during the night between someone of a family that was quite well-known, whether he was a military officer or something. While he was searching around in the old libraries he came across a Latin phrase. He thought that this phrase was something really wonderful so he wrote to the College of Heralds to see whether it had been registered as someone’s slogan. On finding that it hadn’t, he announced that he was going to adopt it for his family’s slogan henceforth. He’d have a think about finding some Coat of Arms or other that might be appropriate

It’s a little-known fact that my family has its own slogan nihil expectore in omnibus which means, roughly translated “wait for nothing at all”, although some wag suggested that it means “no spitting on the public transport”

And then a young girl just walked into my room and tucked something under my pillow. She said “that’s the volume for your dream to awaken you”. I looked at her, and couldn’t understand exactly what she meant by that, but she turned on her heel and walked out of the room and left me. I wondered if that was a sign that I was late, that I’d missed the alarm and needed to set the alarm louder to awaken me in te future but I really couldn’t understand that

It’s hardly surprising, is it? I can still in fact see her hand even now sliding something under my pillow so it was something along the same lines as the phantom alarms that we have. But there’s definitely nothing under the pillow.

After the dictaphone we had a footfest. I hadn’t realised that Stranraer had played a midweek game so I had two matches to watch.

The first was away in Edinburgh against Spartans, and Edinburgh seems to be a happy hunting ground for Stranraer because after beating Edinburgh City the other week, they beat Spartans 3-1

That was actually the best that I have ever seen Stranraer play, so it gave some hope for the weekend’s game, the return match against Edinburgh City but they couldn’t build on the success. Once more, they played well but so did Edinburgh City. Neither team managed to break the other down and it finished 0-0.

After lunch I started to edit the radio notes and by the time I finished work it was all complete, 11th track and all. So that’s another hour’s worth to add to the collection.

There were several interruptions, which was why it took so long. The first was for the hot chocolate of course, and then there was bread to make and bake.

The pizza too required attention. I’d taken the last of the frozen dough out of the freezer earlier in the day so I had to knead it, roll it and assemble it.

When the bread came out of the oven the pizza went in and I had another candidate for “best pizza ever”.

So now I’m off to bed ready for the morning, hoping that someone interesting will come to see me during the night.

But talking of Isaac Weld leaving New York … "well, one of us is" – ed … before he left he went into a branch of that chain of places that a British judge agreed “exploit children”, are “culpably responsible for animal cruelty”, “pay low wages” and “pretended to a positive nutritional benefit which their food (high in fat & salt etc) did not match”
And with his quarter-pounder he ordered a beer
"You can’t buy a beer in here" said the burger-flipper
"What?" he exclaimed. "You mean that you’re sober when you eat this mess?"

Saturday 14th December 2024 – SO HERE I AM …

… late again. Not even going to be in bed before midnight at this rate.

But there was so much exciting stuff on the internet this evening, and we are at the stage where there is only one club from te Welsh Premier League through to the next round of the Cup, and they had a struggle too.

There’s one more team that is playing their match tomorrow and I don’t think that they are in any danger, but you never know. There have been some crazy results this last round or two.

No danger of me being in bed before 23:00 last night either. I’ve given up rushing, stressing myself out, and all for no good purpose too. I’ve decided that I’ll take it easy, enjoy myself and if I have to sleep during the dialysis sessions, then so what? It’s not as it I do much else while I’m there.

So late again last night into bed, and asleep quite quickly too. For a change, nothing disturbed me and I slept right through until 07:00 without moving a muscle.

When the alarm went off I struggled to my feet and went into the bathroom for a good wash, a scrub up, a shave (not that Emilie the Cute Consultant will be there) and to hand-wash some clothes. I have to keep on top of how the wardrobe is doing, seeing as there isn’t very much in it.

Into the kitchen was next for my drink and medication, and remember to take the “Sunlight” medication too. Apparently the doctor thinks that I ought to get out more often, a sentiment that I’m sure is shared by every one of you.

There was time to check the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And to my surprise, there was something in it.

I’d gone to Burma and was living there for a few months. I’d met a young girl and fallen in love with her. After a while I discovered that there was a way by which people could sponsor young people in Third-World countries like Burma. It involved the filling on of a form. I applied for a form and it told me that I needed some kind of form from the Burmese. I went off to my Burmese local council and spoke to a woman there. She found a form for me and told me basically how I should fill it in. She very carefully asked me if our relationship was any more than that of sponsor/guardian to which I hedged my bets rather, although I was sure that she picked up on the fact that there was something going on. She warned me about the consequences if anything like that were to be discovered. She had to find a chair for me to sit upon while I filled in this form. She wandered off and came back with a chair. Then she found that she didn’t have a chair herself upon which to sit. This was starting to become complicated. She asked about my intentions. I told her that I was embarrassed about how we in the West were so rich and had so much going on in our favour yet we deliberately wanted to shut out the Third World from participating in our success. I carried on in that kind of vein for a few minutes. She sympathised, and blamed everything on the EU. I told her that it isn’t really the EU’s fault. It’s the individual countries that are pushing for tighter border controls and cut down on aid to poorer nations, very much forcing the EU’s hand. Anyway, we continued this discussion for quite a while and drifted away from our original purpose which was me sponsoring a Burmese girl.

This is in fact one of the most interesting dreams that I have had and there is a lot of mileage in it, and not just because of my sentiments either.

For a start, it’s not just in the Third World that this lack of resources and assistance is going on. In 2002 I passed through a Navajo Reservation and in 2019 through a Sioux Reservation in the USA and in 2018 and 2019 I was amongst the Inuit in Canada and Danish-controlled Greenland. As well as that, I have on several occasions passed through the Innu lands at Sheshatshiu and the Mikma’q Reservations at Burnt Church in Canada. How these developed nations treat their own ethnic minorities brings shame and disgrace upon them. And I’ve seen desperate poverty that you cannot imagine amongst the poorer people, both black and white, in South-Eastern USA. When I passed through these places, it filled me with shame and embarrassment too.

But falling in love with girls from Burma reminds me of the Burmese girl whom I met in Brussels. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I had a strange e-mail years ago telling me this sad story of how the writer had struggled through the jungles of Burma into Thailand where she escaped and arrived in Brussels on an aeroplane and how she desperately needed papers. If it looks like a rat, walks like a rat and smells like a rat then it’s a rat and I smelled it all right, but my curiosity, which has always been my downfall, was ignited. I wanted to know how she’d obtained my e-mall address and why she thought that I might be able to help her. So we met, and the first thing that I noticed were her clothes – beautifully tailored denim jeans and jacket. Then her hair – perfectly coiffured. This is no fleeing refugee. So once she was in my car I drove her to a little spot that I know where I can check that no-one is following us, because I’m not as stupid as I look, and then took her to a park where we walked and she talked.

And what a yarn she spun me.

But to me, she was well-worth the effort because she really was beautiful. Nevertheless, I was sure that she was trying to entice me into some kind of indiscretion just as I was trying to entice her into my bed. After all, you don’t get something for nothing, as she would find out if she carried on trying. Eventually, after much binding in the marsh, she admitted that she did after all have a passport with her in Belgium, which I had guessed all along, and so I was by now even more curious to find out what was her game. But once she realised that I wasn’t even going to begin to discuss anything without her staying the night at my place, all contact ceased.

In the end I suspected that this was something to do with work. We mixed with all kinds of different company at work and in my official car, and knew all kinds of information that would have been of interest to many people, so it wouldn’t be unnatural for the Service to want to know how easily we might impart this information to people who had no right to know it. But some of us aren’t as green as we look

This dream intrigued me so much that I had a look on the internet at a certain couple of sites and to my surprise she is there, with her full career history, although there’s a gap of four or five years between when she finished her studies – in London, would you believe – and started work in Belgium, which covered the period about which we’re talking. Seriously, I have half a mind to write to her to say “hello” and remind her of our meetings. And how I wish that I could be there to see her reaction when she receives the message.

It’s interesting that the EU figures in this dream too. A great many people blame “the EU” for many things that happen in the World but in fact “the EU” is nothing more than the Civil Service of the member countries and makes no decisions of its own that aren’t provided for in the various treaties signed by the member states or agreed by the Ministers of the member States at the various meetings. And even then, some countries have a veto or can negotiate an opt-out. I have seen with my own eyes Ministers from certain countries (one in particular, of course) vote in favour of a measure that they know is going to be unpopular back home, don’t negotiate an opt-out or a veto, and then when it’s applied and the population is restless, blame “the EU” for the issue. The hypocrisy of many of these politicians is astounding.

That wasn’t all that was on the dictaphone either, but you don’t want to know the rest, especially if you are eating your meal right now.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, the nurse didn’t stay long today. He asked the usual banal, meaningless questions and then cleared off quite quickly

With him being early, I was early making my breakfast so I had plenty of time to sit and read ISAAC WELD’S BOOK.

He’s taken to a canoe with his friends, but they’ve been upset in some rapids, so they’ve gone to seek help at a local farmhouse.."The people here were extremely civil; they assisted us in making fresh paddles in lieu of those which we had lost the night before; and for the trifle which we gave them above what they asked us for our breakfasts they were very thankful, a most unusual circumstance in the United States.".

The last few words of that quotation really made me laugh

So having equipped himself and his party with new oars, they set out again and arrive in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania where, disembarking from their canoes on the banks of the Susquehanna River, they fell in with a community of Moravian farmers. He’s astonished to find that the children of the community don’t live at home but go to a boarding school. Then on leaving, live in communal houses, one for each sex.

And the editor of Aunt Judy’s magazine would be quite at home here in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, I’ll tell you that. Weld tells us that "the young persons of different sexes have but very little intercourse with each other; they never enter each other’s houses, and at church they are obliged to sit separate". I’m just surprised that they have any at all.

Marriage amongst the Moravian young people is interesting too. When a young man in the Men’s Home catches a glimpse of a girl in the Girl’s Home and likes what he sees, "it is only in consequence of his having seen her at a distance perhaps, that a bachelor is induced to propose for a young woman in marriage, and he is not permitted to offer his proposals in person to the object of his choice, but merely through the medium of the superintendant of the female house. If from the report of the elders and wardens of the society it appears to the superintendant that he is able to maintain a wife, she then acquaints her protegee with the offer, and should she consent, they are married immediately, but if she do not, the superintendant selects another female from the house, whom she imagines would be suitable to the young man, and on his approval of her they are as quickly married. Hasty as these marriages are they are never known to be attended with unhappiness; for being taught from their earliest ¡infancy to keep those passions under control"

Judging by the number of divorces and so on in the World today, it’s as good a proposition with as much chance of permanent success as any other. But I’d love to see how I would be able to keep my own “passions under control”.

Back in here I had things of my own to do and was so engrossed in doing them that my cleaner took me by surprise yet again. She fitted my patches and then I had a long wait for the taxi while this new system of controls continues to create havoc.

At the Dialysis Centre I was last to arrive so of course I was last connected. And the two girls managed it with much less pain than usual.

That meant that I could have a sleep, so I duly profited. And why not too?

But I still found time to read my Welsh and to tidy up and re-sort some of the books that I have downloaded in the past.

When it was time to go I was uncoupled, compressed and then shown the door where I had to wait a few minutes for the taxi. We were two passengers coming, so we were two passengers going, and I arrived quite late back here.

There was only just enough time to grab a quick baked potato and salad before the football started – Connah’s Quay of the Premier League who won the Cup last year, against Yr Wyddgrug of the Second tier.

It was an exciting match, but it was clear that Connah’s Quay had much more skill than their opponents. That meant nothing because you can have all the possession you like and it makes no difference if you can’t score.

Yr Wyddgrug had a few chances too and should have done much better with one or two of them, but it was Connah’s Quay who scored the decisive goal, in a goalmouth scramble. But I do have to say that if the referee were to have seen the goal again from the camera behind the goal, as we did, it would have been an indirect free-kick to Yr Wyddgrug for offside.

So now, much later than intended, I’m going to dictate my radio notes and go to bed.

But this dream – and in particular my commentary – reminds me of an incident when a cowboy riding across the desert in the USA came across a young girl who, by way of being tortured by the Apache, had been buried up to her neck in an ant-hill
"Ohh do dig me out, please" she pleaded. "I implore you!"
"If I do" said the cowboy, licking his lips "what’s in it for me?"
"Why" said the girl. "Ants, of course."

Sunday 1st December 2024 – MY CAULIFLOWER STALK …

… and broccoli stalk soup at lunchtime was absolutely delicious. I made myself a bread roll to dip in it too, and baked in the air fryer, it was perfection too. All in all it was one of the best lunches that I have ever eaten.

It’s the period of winter veg at LeClerc and so with broccoli and cauliflower being sold at giveaway prices, it’s too good to turn down

In fact, it’s been a good day today. And it started last night when I actually made it into bed at 23:45. Not 23:00 I know, but with it being a Sunday, there’s a lie-in until 08:00.

But at 08:00 I was actually up and about, working away at my desk in here. Something had awoken me from at 06:00 while I was in one of the deepest sleeps that I’ve had for ages. I’ve no idea what it was but I couldn’t go back to sleep afterwards. And by the time that 06:45 came round I’d given up and left the bed.

After I’d washed I came back in here and checked the dictaphone to see if I’d been anywhere during the night. There was something to do with a rock group and the young girl who was in it. She was attacked at some point by some kind of unearthly being. I’ve no idea why that should be but it was certainly the case.

We had a rock group yesterday, if I remember correctly. And a few days ago, we had a girl attacked by some kind of extra-terrestrial being. We seem to be doing a lot of repeating these days.

Then there was a Secret Service operation going on in London to do with the Russian embassy. They had to find a certain vehicle, break into it and steal some papers but they didn’t know exactly how they were going to do this. They knew that it was in some kind of code so they took with them one of Britain’s leading Civil Service codebreaker people. He was a very scared, elderly gentleman who was most uncomfortable as they were roaming around London looking for this keyword or whatever. They were surprised while they were searching somewhere and this elderly gentleman ended up stabbing someone. Of course that made him really panic. They had to try to restrain him and keep him with them even though he was ready to run at any moment. When someone came round, the caretaker of this building to find out what the noise had been, this elderly gentleman said “oh, I hear my ‘phone ringing” and ran away as fast as he could. Of course there was no way that these two people could stop him. They ended up roaming around this certain area in London on their own. They were looking at this shop that had closed down, some kind of vegan restaurant or shop, looking at all the adverts plastered everywhere all over it. There were four adverts for something or other but there stuck in the corner of one of the adverts was something like “Ron’s Taxis 5150”. That immediately gave them a clue because this taxi sticker wasn’t on any of the other three posters. It had something to do with the vehicle 515 or 5150 so they set off to wander around thinking that the ‘phone sticker advertising this taxi service was to do with the vehicle. They hadn’t yet figured out that at some stage they were going to see a taxi vehicle with the registration number RON 515 or RON 5150 that I’d figured out but they were wandering around London, something like that, when the dream evaporated

Codebreaking now in my dreams? It’s certainly impressive. Is there no end to my nocturnal skills? As I have said before, … "and on many occasions too" – ed … if only I had had in my life someone who was capable of harnessing all of these hidden talents that I must have buried deep within me.

The nurse was early yet again and he didn’t hang about long this time. That suited me fine and I could make my breakfast and carry on reading ISAAC WELD’S BOOK.

He’s now In the city of Québec, having left Montréal, and he’s just as enamoured of the city as I was. He tells us that "I must not conclude this letter without making mention of the fcenery that is exhibited to the view, from various parts of the upper town of Quebec, which, for its grandeur, its beauty, and its diverfity, furpafles all that I have hitherto feen in America, or indeed in any other part of the globe." and I cannot disagree.

He’s really in his element here, in fact. He’s given me a fascinating description of Wolfe’s storming of the Heights of Abraham and an excellent lecture on how Montcalm should have organised his defence to prevent his army and the city being overrun.

He’s also given us a lecture on the manufacture of sugar from maple syrup and how he would do it on a large scale and on a commercial basis, even calculating how much profit he would make per acre.

In fact, he’s given so many lectures and seems to be an expert on so many things that, when he said a few days ago that "A rational and agreeable companion, to whom you might communicate the refult of your obfervations, and with whom you might interchange fentiments on all occafions, could not but be deemed a pleafing acquisition,’", I would have been the first to volunteer to go with him. The two of us would have been experts on just about everything, boring the pants off just about everyone else whom we met.

Much of my free time was spent editing the radio notes that I’d dictated last night. I now hove two more programmes to add to the pile but I still can’t afford to relax. I have a lot to do and a short time to do it.

Stranraer were at home from a team way down the pyramid in the Scottish Cup. Although they played well and had a great deal of possession, and even though they hit the woodwork on a couple of occasions, they only scored one goal. Their opponents, Broxburn, just had two shots on target so you can guess the final score without too much effort.

This really was the nadir of Stranraer’s season to date.

It took quite a while to make my broccoli stalk and cauliflower stalk soup at lunchtime. It involved

one large onion
two cloves of garlic
one medium-sized potato
a broccoli stalk
a cauliflower stalk
cumin
coriander
marjoram
chives
chervil
half a litre of the water that you saved from the blanching of the carrots, broccoli and cauliflower on Saturday
vegetable stock cube
soya cream
fresh ground black pepper

chop and fry the onion until soft
chop the broccoli stalk, cauliflower stalk, garlic and potatoes into very tiny pieces and add them to the onion
add the herbs and spices
fry them for about 10-15 minutes
add enough water to cover the vegetables
add the stock cube and let everything simmer for 15 minutes
when everything is mushy, whizz it all up, adding the soya cream as you do so
serve with fresh ground pepper and fresh bread roll

There was pizza dough to make later on, and also a cake. This week I chose a ginger cake seeing as I had some fresh ginger on hand, and together with some desiccated coconut, coconut oil and orange flavouring, it smells delicious

Tonight’s pizza was one of the best that I have ever made too, and that’s good news because one or two just recently seem to have gone off the boil somewhat.

All in all it seems to have been a very good day for baking and making. There’s plenty of food on hand now to keep me going for a while.

Tomorrow I have my Welsh homework to finish off and then I’m off to dialysis – more agony and pain. I suppose that I’d better hurry up and go to bed to prepare myself.

But before I go, General Wolfe, who led the British Army to victory on the Heights of Abraham, was killed on the battlefield just as the victory was won. And there used to be an obelisk making the spot.
When I was there once though, a helpful local, and a very vocal local yokel at that too, told me that members of the Québec Libre – the Québec Separationists – sent it back to the UK
"Surely it was far, far too big to go in the post" I said
"Indeed it was" said the helpful local "but you’ll be amazed at the velocity released by 100 kilos of dynamite."

Sunday 17th November 2024 – THIS RADIO PROGRAMME …

… was flaming complicated

What I did last night before going to bed was to re-dictate the notes from two radio programmes that I’d recorded previously. I don’t know what was up with my microphone when I first dictated them but they had turned out as if I had my head stuck in a metal bucket while I was dictating.

Nevertheless, I’d done everything and assembled the programmes but I was never happy with them and so yesterday I decided that I’d have another go

Dictating them was no problem and interestingly, the unedited notes of the first programme were only one second shorter than the unedited noted of the first attempt.

Having done all that, and it being later by far than I would have liked, I crawled off to bed.

Once again, I slept the Sleep of the Dead and knew nothing at all about anything whatsoever until the alarm went off at 08:00. Once I’d switched it off i crawled into the bathroom to have a wash and brush up before coming back in here to listen to the dictaphone.

Not that I reached very far because the nurse came early again and I had to go into the living room for the attention to my legs.

The nurse and I had the same discussion about baking a pizza that we have had I don’t know how many other times and I was glad when he finally slung his hook

Once he’d left I could make breakfast and read my book. And I do have to feel sorry for Samuel Hearne. There’s no doubt, reading his story, that he’s at the mercy of his First Nation guides on the return to the fort. He has absolutely no control, no power and no influence over the events that are unfolding.

They are covering incredible distances – 45, 45, 46 miles per day at times – over some of the roughest terrains in the world, distances that are confirmed by modern mapping methods, without stopping for rest. Women are giving birth, people are dropping out, sick people are being abandoned to die and Hearne is footsore and bleeding but he has no choice but to keep up or to be abandoned too.

He describes his diet in some detail and it’s not for the faint-hearted. But he also describes the life, cultures and habits of the First-Nation people and also the animals that he encounters. It’s a fascinating glimpse through a window into a country and a lifestyle that has gone forever.

Back in here I carried on with transcribing the dictaphone notes. I was in my little office at work. I’d been having a meeting with a couple of people. The subject of ages came up because a famous British tennis player roughly my age has married a girl of 26, a Swedish football player who is playing for a club in London. We all expressed our congratulations and had a general discussion about affairs like this. I happened to thumb through a few life assurance files and found that a few of the French sex-symbol women were now well into their mid-90s, something that many people find hard to believe. We all shook our collective heads at the idea of age. As we prepared to leave – or as the two people prepared to leave, some woman walking past my room ended up engaging herself in conversation with another woman. In the end there were three of them. For some reason my office door was open but they were right outside my door. In fact one of them was inside my office leaning on my wall. They were discussing the crisis in the French National Health Service, about how things weren’t the same as they used to be, how operations are being rushed, how people are being left with scars due to imperfect surgery. They were going on like this for about half an hour. When they paused for breath I asked them “what are the three of us – that is, these other two people in my meeting and I – going to do and how are we going to react now that you have told us all of this gruesome story about operations, hospitals etc?”. For some reason they seemed to be rather embarrassed about being overheard (…fell asleep here …) then made arrangements to watch a film, something like that. I can’t remember the name of the film now.

It goes without saying that there’s no crisis in the French health system. Whatever problems there are (and there are problems, to be sure) are as nothing compared to the issues that plague other countries and other health services. Having experienced several of them, I can say without fear of contradiction that i’ve never been so well looked-after as I have been in France.

Football was next on the agenda. There were various highlights from other matches in the Welsh Cup, including a giant-killing act where Y Wyddgrug from the second tier beat Llansawel from the Premier Division 2-1

Following that, we had Stranraer against Bonnyrigg Rose Athletic. Bonnyrigg are in deep trouble right now because their pitch, known with good reason as the “New Dundas Swamp” is probably the worst in professional football and a sad throwback to the bad days of the 1960s and 70s.

The club promised to replace it with a synthetic surface but failed to do so and so have been deducted six points. They have two months to come up with a plan otherwise they will be in even deeper trouble.

But right now Stranraer were entertaining them at home in a match where the weather was all four seasons, terminating in a torrential downpour.

Despite Stranraer having the lion’s share of the game the score was 1-1 going into injury time when Bonnyrigg scored a goal out of nothing to win the game that Stranraer should have won at a canter.

After lunch I made a start on the first radio programme. And, even more strangely, the edited notes ended up exactly the same length as the edited notes the first time round. So how come the assembled programme ended up 17 seconds short of the one hour?

So confused was I that I must have spent well over an hour trying different arrangements but nothing would work so in the end I called up the project files of the first attempt.

To my surprise, I found that I had included a different song from the one for which I had dictated the notes, and that accounted for it. I’m not sure why I did that.

Anyway, there was an interesting introduction on that replacement song so I extracted it and tagged it onto the front of the correct song that I’d used in the revised programme. Now I was 27 seconds over but filtering out some of the applause soon took care of that.

However, I’d spent so much time on that programme that there was no time to start the second one.

There had been a break though for my hot chocolate and crackers, followed by making the pizza for tonight. Just after lunch I’d taken out some frozen dough from the freezer and it had been slowly defrosting during the afternoon. So after my hot chocolate I kneaded it again and rolled it out onto the pizza tray

Later on I assembled my pizza and then baked it in the oven. The base wasn’t as baked as I would like it, which seems to be the fault of my oven which is pretty much hit and miss but it’s the best that I have.

So now that everything is finished for the night I’m off to bed, ready for a fresh start tomorrow.

But talking of Hearne and the animals that he encounters reminds me of the two explorers wandering across the plains of southern Africa in the 18th Century admiring all of the strange and wonderful animals
"Look at that strange male animal" said one of them "sneaking up on that herd of females"
"Wildebeest?" asked the other one
"Any moment now, I reckon" said their guide

Sunday 10th November 2024 – THIS PERISHING RADIO …

… programme is driving me crazy.

What I have to do is to edit the text that I dictated last night, chop it into segments and attach it to the relevant track, and then make a selection of tracks with their attached speech in order to make a runtime of an hour or maybe some seconds over that I can edit out.

Sound simple doesn’t it? But I’ll tell you something, and that is that it isn’t anything like.

Even a decent night’s sleep didn’t help matters much. Although it was after 23:00 when I went to bed, it’s a lie-in in the morning so I still had over eight hours sleep (in principle).

“In principle” of course because, as usual, I was awoken several times during the night by someone or something and I can see that being a problem when I’m living on the ground floor, if I ever do actually make it there.

Despite all of that, I was still fast asleep and dead to the World when the alarm went off at 08:00. At that moment we were discussing someone’s face – how they’d only had it for ten years and it’s always been the same. Something like that but I’d only just begun when the alarm went off.

And the significance of that, I have no idea whatever.

In the bathroom I had a good scrub-up and came back in here to listen to the dictaphone, but I hadn’t gone far before the nurse came to see me.

She’s obviously someone else who doesn’t love me because she was here and gone in a twinkling of an eye, not really wishing to chat. She says that she’s really busy tomorrow, which is no surprise because on Tuesday her oppo takes over.

Once she’d left I made breakfast and read my book. Having finished the editor’s preamble, we’re now reading the author’s preamble.

Interestingly, despite Samuel Hearne being alleged by many to have been the person who discovered on Marble Island the traces of the long-lost James Knight expedition, he makes it clear in his notes that a party of fishermen from his ship, in their "boats, when on the look-out for fish, had frequent occasion to row close to the island, by which means they discovered a new harbour near the East end of it, at the head of which they found guns, anchors, cables, bricks, a smith’s anvil, and many other articles"

Furthermore, despite the many theories that circulate about the mysterious disappearance of the crew, "while we were prosecuting the fishery, we saw several Esquimaux at this new harbour; and perceiving that one or two of them were greatly advanced in years, our curiosity was excited to ask them some questions concerning the above ship and sloop," and they were given an explanation that should remove any doubt about the likely end of the survivors of the shipwrecks.

Back in here I had some football to watch. There were the highlights of the other matches in the Welsh Premier League and then Stranraer away at league leaders East Fife.

Stranraer have only won once since August last year and have been looking well off the pace but to everyone’s surprise, including theirs, I bet, they actually ran out 2-1 winners and are now off the bottom. If they keep this up they might actually avoid the relegation playoffs this season.

Then there were the dictaphone notes to deal with. I had an old, white Ford Cortina MkII. I was in London somewhere. I had someone with me and we were trying to leave the city. We’d been all the way round the north and in the Midlands. There had been some talk about it being a Bank Holiday and how if someone was going to visit the local supermarket he’d better do it on the Friday because otherwise everything would be sold by the Saturday. I’d made it down to London and was trying to exit the city. I told the person with me to look out for Croydon and if we could follow the signs for Croydon we’ll be half-way there. So we kept tacking across the south hoping to pick up a road. We ended up in some residential area where I nearly knocked down some woman crossing the road after alighting from a bus. Suddenly this guy said “just stop for a minute”. He left the car. I thought “this isn’t the moment to be stopping. We’re in a rush and we have to leave”. I heard some water running, and then I was distracted by something. I suddenly realised that he was standing behind me. We both climbed back into the car and I set off again. I asked him what he had been doing. He replied that he had seen some washing-up. I answered that we had much more important things to be doing than washing-up. The washing-up could have waited for another moment if we want to leave this city without being caught.

Just recently during the night I’ve been spending a lot of time in a white Ford Cortina MkII. That’s quite strange, because the one that I owned was black. But I’ve no idea why anyone would want to leave a car in order to do the washing up.

The reference to shops being closed is possibly a reference of when I first came to live in Brussels. The 11th of November is a Bank Holiday in Belgium but an “optional” one where I was working so I was coming in to work anyway. I’d forgotten about the Bank Holiday and ended up in a panic because I had all my shopping to do and nowhere to do it. For tea that night I walked quite a long way looking for a fritkot

And never ever is Trevor going to bother anyone with that feeble attempt at the styrofoam that just trickled by as he tried to have his ticket read by the machine at the entrance to the Undergound.

That’s what I dictated, and I can’t think of any meaning at all that applies to it. I like the rhyme at the beginning though.

That was everything on the dictaphone but there’s also an impression going through my mind about discussing football managers – someone saying that they thought someone to be too old for the job, but someone else reminding them that some famous football manager is actually 106.

Anyway, I then started work on the first of the two radio notes that I dictated last night. And they weren’t straightforward to edit either. They took quite a while. And now I’ve ended up with thirteen segments that, with their music, total about one hour and thirty minutes.

So thirty minutes has to go, which is in principle no problem, but as yet there’s no combination of tracks and speech that makes about one hour, no matter how I try.

It goes without saying that I haven’t yet started the second one. Perhaps I should have done that one first.

After the hot chocolate I started the baking. First of all was a load of dough for a few pizze, one tonight and a couple more for the future.

Then, there was some dough for a small loaf, followed by what should have been a ginger cake but the ginger has gone the Way of the West so it was a rich chocolate cake instead. That’s the next pudding.

All of that took several hours and once more I was out on my feet again. I can’t do all of this standing up and I really ought to buy a stool for the kitchen. But when do I find five minutes to do any on-line shopping?

So the pizza is done and baked and eaten, and it really was lovely too. The bread looks nice and so does the chocolate cake. Mixing the cake mixture in the food processor is really a good idea.

So now it’s bedtime, ready for tomorrow and another painful session at the Dialysis Clinic.

But baking that chocolate cake reminds me of my friend near Macclesfield who was baking a cake. When the oven “pinged” she was speaking to someone on the ‘phone so she told her daughter, who was aged 11, to go to check to see if it was done
"How do I do that?" she asked
"You stick a knife into the centre" said her mother "and if it comes out clean, you know that it’s done"
So off she went – and didn’t come back until tem minutes later
"Well? Is it done?" asked her mother
"Ohh yes" she replied. "The knife came out clean"
"So what took you so long then?"
"Well, the knife came out so clean" said the daughter "that I put the rest of the dirty cutlery in there too".

Saturday 9th November 2024 – IF ANYTHING CAN …

… go wrong, then it surely will. Especially if I’m involved in it

And these dialysis sessions are certainly testing this theory to the limit. I am not having much luck at all.

That’s hardly to be unexpected, because right now I don’t seem to be having much luck with anything. And it’s not as if there are any ladders under which to walk or black cats to kick

Even going to bed at a reasonable time seems to have deserted me for the moment. Finishing my notes at a reasonable time last night, but the time that I’d finished everything else that I had to do, I still ended up running late, as usual.

At least, the compensation here is that it didn’t take me long to go to sleep in my nice, comfortable bed. And once I’d gone to sleep, there I stayed until the alarm went off. There had been a little tossing and turning, but nothing about which I needed to worry

When the alarm went off I was working in a chemist’s shop prescribing medication to people. I was told that there was a control on the amount of medication being given out and when I prescribed some to a woman she told me that I was giving her too much. I told her that at the end of the treatment, when she’s finished she can stick the remainder back through our letter-box so that we could have it back

This is an ongoing issue in real life, with all of the over-prescription of medication. I look at all of the stuff that I have in here and multiply that by so many million people and it’s a fortune. Many of these doctors in hospitals seem to live in a bubble and don’t seem to understand how their prescriptions affect those living in the real world. But we’ve talked about that quite a lot just recently.

Despite what might have been a good sleep it took an age to haul myself out of bed and I only just about beat the second alarm. Burning the candle at both ends doesn’t seem to be working so well

In the bathroom I had a good scrub up and then piled all of the washing into the washing machine, bedding included. It all goes in on a “mixed materials 40°C wash” and if anything wants any different than that then I don’t buy it. It goes without saying that I have nothing that needs ironing.

Back in here I had a computer issue. For some reason it wouldn’t boot up this morning. I had to go to tweak around with the BIOS to make it work and that took some time to do. Consequently I was only half-way through the dictaphone notes when Isabelle the nurse came

She had a good moan about all of the shopping scattered everywhere. That was going to be this morning’s job after I’d finished the dictaphone notes but the best-laid plans etc. Anyway I told her that it was my mess in my apartment and she can give me some of her hours to tidy up if she’s unhappy

After she left I made breakfast and read some more of Samuel Hearne’s travels. Except that I didn’t. Two days in and we’re still reading the editor’s preamble. That’s probably going to end up longer than the author’s book if it keeps on like this.

Then there was the washing to hang up, seeing as the machine had finished. And that’s quite a battle, given my state of health and my lack of balance

Back in here I finished off transcribing the dictaphone notes. I had been doing some work on the city walls. I’d cleared away a platform in front that we were going to use to put on music acts etc so that the public sitting in what was the old moat could see whoever was on the platform. I don’t know at all about the history of this platform but it just happened to be there. While I was cleaning it out I heard a noise like a sports car. I stopped and looked up, and there was a guy there. I asked him if that was his car. He replied “yes, it’s a ‘Facer'”. I said “that’s a marque of which I’d never heard before”. He replied “it’s the only one”. He looked down and asked “what are the chances of putting this car down there?”. I replied “if you have a look on top of the walls a little further down we have cranes that run up and down on top of the walls. We use them for raising and lowering things. Bring one of the cranes up here. They’ll soon lower your car down”. The fact is that the crane didn’t quite reach to where the platform is, but if I stood on the platform and threw a rope that would be tied to the car, then as he lowered the car down I could pull it to the platform. He set off and we set off to go round and come round onto the correct side of the platform. He suddenly began to think “what about the insurance? What about the MoT and the Public Liability?”. We told him to clear off, shut up and lower the car down. He didn’t like our brusqueness but we thought that it was the best way to proceed, to bring this car down onto the platform. As it happened, we had a quick look in the encyclopaedia. He played keyboards so with me on the bass and my friend who worked with me, he was a drummer, we had the makings of a pretty sound group, the three of us

One of my friends lived in a house right on the city walls in Chester and I worked in a building on the walls too. We’d often said that it would be an ideal place for a rock group, or any other musical act for that matter, to have a concert. A few power chords just at the start of the 14:30 Novices’ Handicap down below on the Roodee should upset quite a few punters.

I was in Court last night – a hearing trying to persuade a tenant to leave a property but he was being difficult. He was finding humour in all kinds of strange places but I reckoned that this humour was a front. He was trying to embarrass me in front of the judges so I kept a very clear silence and only answered the questions that they were asked to me and ask him until he pulled up out of steam which he did rather by the nineteenth of the second. He was unable to persuade the French children’s governess that she was the kind of person to be given a more senior role in the Government of France where she could make a name for herself in history.

Does this dream ring any bells right now? I bet that it does. Although where the children’s governess fits in, I’ve not quite worked out.

Did I dictate the dream about the two of us being on a coach tour with two drivers? … "no you didn’t" – ed … We had to stop for coffee but there was nowhere convenient and we ended up at some kind of dire roadside burger bar but it was the absolute best that we could be. The other driver took over to drive and on leaving was almost pranged by a silver 4×4 as he pulled out. In the meantime I’d gone off somewhere – I had Nerina with me – and all of a sudden there was an urgent contact “can you check and look out for a silver 4×4?”. By this time I was back driving this coach again. I looked in my mirror and could see this 4×4 right behind me so I replied “it’s behind me now”. The voice asked “can you follow it to find out where it goes”. I thought “follow it in a coach? I can try”. However I lost it, but I had a rough idea where so I circled around this housing estate again and sure enough, I found it. So I built a swimming pool and filled it with water, then the voice asked me to check on the number. When I checked on the number I saw the old guy driving it, he was standing on a set of ladders up some kind of pole in his garden where there was a light bulb that he was busy taking out. I took the number and reported it. Someone then gave me a briefcase and said “this is his” so I went and knocked on the door. His wife was there so I handed her the briefcase and we began to chat. She said something about his computer so I had a look. It was old and full of viruses so I cleaned it for him, removed the viruses and tweaked a few other things, and it worked so much better. When he ‘phoned up we told him what we’d come for. The wife told him the news so he asked “can you switch it off yet?”. He told me that it needed switching off so I arranged it. She said “yes, it switches off now”. he replied “that’s the first time in 100 years that it’s switched off”. Then Nerina and this woman engaged in quite a lot of small talk about nothing else in particular really

Wouldn’t it be great if I could build a swimming pool and fill it with water at the drop of a hat like that? And I have in the past done strange things like door-stepping someone for purposes other than which are obvious, but we don’t talk about these.

There wasn’t all that long to do stuff of my own before the cleaner came round to stick my anaesthetic patches onto me. It’s freezing outside, she reckons, so I put away my warm-season fleeces and brought out one of the Arctic ones. I kept my jumper on though if I’m going to be in Ice-Station Zebra.

While I was waiting for the taxi to arrive I put away all of the food and did a little rearranging on the shelves. It goes without saying that with my cleaner being early, the taxi was late. And we had someone to pick up along the way.

At the Dialysis Centre there was a crisis. Two patients had been sent over from the hospital for emergency dialysis and one was having a panic attack. Consequently every available nurse was helping out around the bed.

It was 35 minutes before I was seen and by that time the anaesthetic on my arm had worn off. They also missed their aim with the second needle and had to re-do it. Consequently I was in agony throughout the whole three hours and thirty minutes.

"Shall I bring some ice to ease the pain in your arm?" asked a nurse helpfully

"What?" I exclaimed "In this blasted igloo? You must be joking!"

So I listened to a couple of concerts, revised my Welsh, suffered being force-fed with orange juice, had a little doze and read more of Hakluyt’s PRINCIPALL NAVIGATIONS

He’s busy right now talking about a couple of trips in the 1580s and 90s to the Gulf of St Lawrence and the constant changing of sovereignty of the islands there is playing havoc with me being able to identify them in the names by which I know them today

Not only that, we’re talking in the period when the Basque country was still independent and its own language predominated so that makes matters even more complicated, especially when the ports on the Biscay coast are mentioned in passing, under their former names.

Being so late starting meant that I was so late finishing and the guy who came down with me, who has a four-hour session in the other ward, was ready before I was, so we both came home together.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me and once more watched in awe as I climbed the twenty-five stairs up to my door. Not as quick as Thursday or Friday but it was still an achievement. We have a new tenant in one of the apartments upstairs, so I met her cat on the way up.

After my cleaner left, we had football. Cardiff Metro v Y Bala. The Met scored after two minutes – a lucky rebound but Y Bala equalised just on the stroke of half-time.

The game came to light when Y Bala scored two goals right immediately after half-time and then we had an exciting second half as the Met clawed their way back into the game with two goals. The final ten minutes was certainly exciting.

It was a good game once it opened up. Cardiff Met play some pretty football but in their desire to retain possession, they can go from all-out attack to a long back-pass to the keeper in the twinkle of an eye and it’s so frustrating to see them do it – eight men up in attack that they pass it backwards.

Y Bala’s style is rather more agricultural but they play forward much more often and with better results.

Tea was a vegan burger on a bun with salad and baked potato followed by ginger cake and soya dessert. It’s all good stuff this.

There’s some dictating to do and then I’m off to bed.

But talking of my bad luck … "well, one of us is" – ed … reminds me of the time in Sheffield when I was walking past the soup canning plant, the boiler exploded and the streets were flooded in vegan tomato soup
"That must have been lucky for you" said a friend
"Not really" I replied. "I could only find a fork"

Sunday 3rd November 2024 – I AM IN …

… agony right now. I’ve been on my feet for four hours between 16:30 and 20:30 and I don’t think that I have ever hurt so much so continually.

It was agony when I was standing still but when I tried to move, my legs were locked up and even moving them one centimetre sent a searing pain through all my joints

All in all, it’s been something of a depressing day, and it started out so well too.

Last night, although I missed my 23:00 bedtime yet again, I was still in bed before midnight which means that with my little lie-in to 08:00 I was going to have a good eight hours sleep.

In principle, that is. Although I was asleep quite quickly I awoke a few times and on one occasion I was actually planning to leave the bed. However I thought that an 02:15 start to the day was probably being over-optimistic.

Nevertheless, when the alarm went off at 08:00 I was already up and sitting on the edge of the bed. I’d been awake for about 20 minutes and thought after about 15 minutes or so that I ought to have a go at breaking the 08:00 barrier. So there I was.

In the bathroom I had a good wash and then came in here to dress and begin to listen to the dictaphone.

Not that I made much progress though. The nurse came by early today and disturbed me. He didn’t stay long though. He seems to be working quicker and quicker these days, or maybe he doesn’t like me any more. Probably the latter.

After he left I made breakfast and then continued to read this thesis on the Lords of the Marches.

Written by an American whose contact with the UK seems to have been quite “limited”, it’s quite amusing.

We’re at the stage where he is shaking his head, completely puzzled and bewildered, as to why William the Conqueror hasn’t used the same tactics of devastation against the Welsh that he used in the “harrying of the North” where the Domesday Book records such lovely entries as “Earl Harold formerly held this. It had land for three ploughs, 16 serfs and 4 slaves. Today it is waste”.

For an American, that is quite understandable. His answer to the Welsh raids would have been what every other American would have done, gone ahead and invaded them, smote them mightily and made them sell Coca-Cola

To a European though, the answer is quite simple. Having (he thought) been unjustly deprived of his heritage, William went across the Channel to claim his inheritance. Wales was not at this stage part of England and so was not in his inheritance and he had no reason to go there.

Border raids were at that time a normal state of affairs everywhere and there was no reason for this to be any different, but try explaining that to an American whose only thought, despite what the Bible tells him, is vengeance.

There’s going to be a lot of mileage in this thesis.

Back in here I carried on with the dictaphone to see where I’d been during the night. I was in a town in the suburbs of Liège and wanted to go to the swimming baths. The nearest swimming baths were in the suburbs of Aachen so I prepared everything. It took me three or four goes to prepare everything – I’d set out from the house without my sac banane and everything in it, I set out without my towels and trunks etc but eventually I had everything together and I set out to walk. I found myself at Aachen railway station, a really busy junction, and I couldn’t remember which line it was as I wanted to go to the baths. Try as I might, I couldn’t identify it. The only thing that I was certain that I’d have to do was to take the train back to Liège and set out to walk as I usually did. That seemed like a whole waste of time to me. I was intrigued by the definition of this walk along the river through the forest to the swimming baths. It was called “The Nun’s Walk”. When I’d asked about the name I was told that it was a nun walking on the hot tar back to her convent was so hot that she took off her shoes and walked back through the river that follows the path. I thought that that was most unlikely to have been the case but that was the only explanation that I’d heard

If I can walk from Liège to Aachen just for a trip to the swimming baths, I’m doing really well. I’d have to get a move on because it’s quite a distance. But I remember the scenery and it reminds me of when I was IN THE CZECH REPUBLIC A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO walking to Karlovy Vary. That’s something that makes me quite sad though. I won’t ever walk like that again and it upsets me.

Later on I was with my elder sister and her husband, which was a surprise (and wasn’t it just? I can’t think of too many people whom I’d be less willing to see). We had been discussing what had gone wrong with our family. We threw various suggestions around. My sister’s husband came up with the idea that one part of the family is now married off. They all had children so there were grandchildren and that’s really all that’s interesting for one person, isn’t it? I said “I couldn’t agree with you more on that”. We were in Aachen again (so I must have stepped back into the first dream). I’d arrived there on foot and had gone round the shops looking for the railway station back and ended up in a big hotel. I found myself in the basement. There was a concièrge there asking everyone who came past if they wanted to use the toilet. I didn’t answer but wandered away. That was when I met up with my family. I was asked if I wanted to go to have a look around the sales but despite everyone’s insistence I declined. My niece’s daughter said that she was going to eat her cornflakes with bath water. I said “bath water? How horrible”. She said yes, but one of her aunts did it. I replied “God! They must be out of their minds! Eating their cornflakes with bath water?”.

It doesn’t take much to work out exactly what was wrong with our family. The fact was that we weren’t a family, just a lot of strangers living under the same roof, with a philosophy of “every man for himself”. It’s no surprise that I have relationship issues after eighteen years of that.

And next, I watched Stranraer throw everything, the kitchen sink included, at Elgin City and still manage to come away from the Highlands with a 1-0 defeat. It was an object lesson in “it doesn’t matter how much possession you have and how many shots you have on goal if you can’t put one past the keeper”.

After that I had work to do. I’d dictated two of the three programmes in the pipeline, and sat down to edit the first dictation. And I was doing really well until the programme that I use crashed and I lost all that I had done.

That called for a break for lunch, a salad butty with the last of the air-fried bread followed by fruit. The bread was delicious and I resolved to try another air-fryer loaf.

Back in here I began again, and eventually ended up with a programme that was one hour and twenty-three minutes long. Some ruthless editing was called for and that took an age to sort out, but eventually I finished with exactly one hour of talk and music.

No time to do the second one though because it was hot chocolate time.

Having drunk that it was then baking time. First task was to make some dough for bread. I gave it a good kneading and then left it on one side.

The flapjack was next. The food processor was involved in that task and I actually found the mixing gear which I coupled up when I’d finished chopping up the nuts and banana chips.

With the mixing attachment it made the mix so much better. It took longer of course, but it was worth it. The finished result was much more like it was supposed to be.

So much so that I did the same with an oil cake. I decided on a spicy ginger cake and used the chopping attachment to chop up the ginger and the mixer attachment to mix up the rest of the ingredients – the dry ingredients first and add the wet ones next.

By now the bread was ready for its second kneading and I put it in one of my silicon air fryer liners, flattening it well down in case it rose up and touched the element again.

At lunchtime I’d taken out some pizza dough from the freezer and it was now defrosted so I rolled it out and put it in the pizza tray, leaving it to rise up

The flapjack went into the oven and the cake into the air fryer while I assembled the pizza. The flapjack was lovely but the cake was a problem yet again. I can’t seem to make the air fryer work with cakes

The bread went in the air fryer next while I put the pizza in the oven. And they were both done to perfection. This idea of baking bread in the air fryer is looking like a success, Hans.

After the pizza I finished off the washing up. There was a mountain of it and I’d been doing it here and there while I was waiting for things to happen.

So now I’ve finished my notes and I’m off to bed. Tomorrow I’m going to look on the internet for a kitchen stool because I can’t go on like this.

Talking about the swimming baths … "well, one of us is" – ed … reminds me of the ones that they opened in Crewe in the town centre a couple of years ago. Over the entrance door was the sign "PSWIMMING BATHS"
And so I asked the caretaker "how come the place has been spelled like that?"
"Ohhh; it’s not like the old Municipal Swimming Baths here" he said. "In these baths the ‘P’ is silent."

EPIC HALL

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

Tag Archives: football

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