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Saturday 15th November 2025 – THIS NEW, REVITALISED …

… me from yesterday didn’t last very long. When I awoke this morning, I was back to the same state of utter fatigue that I was on Thursday morning.

Some of it might be due to the fact that I had another late night last night. It took longer than it should have done to finish off everything last night and by the time that I crawled into bed, it was about 23:20. That’s far later than I would like it to be.

Although I was asleep quite quickly, I awoke at 03:40 and, having gone back to sleep, was awake again an hour later. I even managed to go back to sleep after that, and there I was when the alarm went off at 06:29.

By that time, the fatigue had set in and it was a really difficult battle to rise to my feet.

In the bathroom, I had a good wash, scrub up and shave, just in case I meet the Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, and then I loaded up the washing machine now that the water leak has been repaired. There are still some dirty clothes left, so the next time that I have a shower … "whenever that might be" – ed … I’ll change the bedding and then wash everything.

In the kitchen, I made my ginger, honey and hot lemon drink and then took my medicine.

What with how I was feeling this morning, everything took so long and Isabelle the Nurse took me by surprise just after I’d settled down back in here. That suited her because she could take my blood pressure while I was in a fairly relaxed state. It’s not every day that that happens.

After she’d sorted out my feet, I went into the kitchen to make breakfast and read some more of AB-SA-RA-KA, LAND OF MASSACRE.

However, I was side-tracked quite quickly by the story of THE WHITMAN MASSACRE.

One thing that I have always noticed about these events is that whenever it’s a person of European descent, whether a soldier or a civilian, who is killed, it’s always described as a “massacre”. However, if it’s a Native American who is killed, whether a civilian or a fighter, it’s always described as a “battle”.

Things are, however, slowly changing and a much more objective point of view is being applied. But it’s still taking far too long for things to change.

When breakfast was over, I took out the washing from the machine and hung it on the clothes airer. And that’s another task that’s becoming more and more difficult. So much so that it didn’t look all that pretty when I’d finished.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was with a group of soldiers last night. They had been doing their preliminary training. There was some talk at one time on this particular base about having a football team but the colonel in charge said that with the small number of mechanics and manual labourers, it’s unlikely that they would have enough people to make up a team. One of the captains had this idea that in the recruits’ cabins where they stayed while they were doing their basic training, he would pin up a notice about the formation of this football team. He couldn’t get enough volunteers.

Not that I am, of course, likely to be with a group of soldiers. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed …. if ever there were to be an armed conflict into which I would run the risk of being conscripted, I would head for the docks and the nearest Merchant Navy freighter.

Then the dream moved into France and there were several soldiers and an officer dug into a kind-of trench across a main road. All of a sudden, these three or four soldiers from this basic training platoon appeared and threw themselves into the trench. They said that they had holed up and tried to stop the German advance for as much as possible, and destroyed the road and some telegraph wires. They were now falling back to find the rest of their unit. So they were there in this slit trench thing across the road. Right down at the far end, they could just about make out a German tank that was appearing on the scene. They had had no orders to retreat so they stayed there, but the tank didn’t advance. Suddenly, there came a horse and a kind of waggon, a yellow metallic box wagon heading towards this slit trench from down at the other end of the road at full speed. They shook their heads and wondered what on earth was happening with this. As it approached them, they opened fire. They must have hit the driver because it careened across the road and crashed into the front of a house. It was a brief glance after that, that they realised that it was a Mennonite who had been driving it. Their response was that if Mennonites want to keep themselves out from this war, they shouldn’t be anywhere near the battlefield. Then, some orders came through for these three soldiers to go to a big office and search it for indecent books and destroy them before the Germans could capture the building. This seemed to be a totally pointless task to them because they would be there for hours. They wouldn’t know where to look and would be likely to be overwhelmed. Indecent literature was likely to be the least of their worries as far as the Germans were concerned. However, they went round and ripped out all of the plugs, but someone came along to tell them that this was causing confusion with the refrigeration service of the building. They didn’t really know how to proceed after that. If they stayed much longer, they would be bound to be caught. Destroying this indecent literature was a totally irrelevant part of any kind of warfare.

It’s not just old-order Mennonites but also Amish who still ride around in buggies, and there are plenty of those around the border between New Brunswick and Maine. It’s no surprise to see a horse and buggy trotting along the side of a busy, fast-moving highway.

The vehicle that was being pulled by the horse in this dream was what is called a “Lancaster waggon”, except that one of those has side windows and are usually always black. I have never seen another colour

The rest of the dream is, as usual, totally bizarre and totally meaningless.

I was in Chester with some people whom I used to know there. We’d been discussing dreams. We were sitting there talking, not too far away from where the canal passes through the city centre. After this talk had been going on for a moment, I left these people and walked up to stand on the banks of the canal. There were probably thirty or forty other people there watching. I closed my eyes and wished very hard that I was a bat. Sure enough, I was able to take off and fly around while all these people were looking. I flew around for quite some time. I then thought hard again and changed into an albatross, so I was flying up and down this canal as an albatross. Eventually, I came into land but I’d had a really good time as a flying animal, a bird or a flying mammal. I wondered if it was something that I would be able to do on a regular basis.

If only I could fly like a bat or an albatross on a regular basis. Wouldn’t that be something? But this dream was so real, and so comforting, that I actually looked to see if it was of any significance. but as usual, there are one hundred different interpretations. Each reference gives a different meaning.

After this, I added in the last of the little programs that I use, and then it was time to prepare for dialysis. My faithful cleaner applied my anaesthetic and then I packed my things ready

Although I was a little ahead of myself arriving at dialysis, after I had explained my woes to the nurses, they ran another complete check, including yet another electro-cardiac test. Consequently, I was hours late again in starting the session.

One of the doctors came to see me and I repeated my tale of woe, including the fact that all of these appointments are proving to be too much for me – especially the four sessions per day at the Centre de Ré-education.

He took a note of what I said, but he didn’t seem as is he intended to follow it up. I would love to be proved wrong, of course, but we shall see.

Being late starting, I was late returning, but that was just as well because I bumped into a member of the Residents’ Committee so I buttonholed her about the fibre-optic. The Committee tells us that the Batiments de France (this building is a listed building) are refusing to allow the walls to be drilled to pass the fibre-optic cable, but other listed buildings here have been drilled and cabled. As you can tell, we aren’t happy. ADSL terminates in a couple of months and then we will be stuck.

Isabelle the Nurse came along to take my blood pressure, and then I made tea. A very small plate of mashed potato, peas and vegan sausage. And I managed to eat it all.

So right now, I’m off to bed ready for my Day of Rest tomorrow. Not much of a Day of Rest because I have so much to do, as usual.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about flying … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of Frankie Howerd in UP THE CHASTITY BELT.
Frankie was always trying to invent a way of flying from the castle, but kept on crashing, despite his comment "for a perfect take-off, eat two groats worth of butter beans"
Chopper the Woodsman was always seeing him fail, and one day he remarked "his flies will be his undoing."

Saturday 28th September 2024 – ONE MORE DAY …

… in the Dialysis Clinic followed by another late night, followed by an early start on a Sunday again for the nurse. It’s relentless, all of this and there is no end in sight. Furthermore, I doubt if there ever will be.

But what happens at Christmas? It would surprise me (but there again, nothing surprises me any more) if the clinic were to be open on Christmas Day. And even if it were, would there be a taxi to take me? There are all these little things about which I need to think.

But not right now, of course. I’m beyond thinking. I’ve had a tough day, I’m deathly tired but I still have a lot to do so it’s going to be a late night.

Much later than last night in fact. And it was after midnight then when I could finally wrench myself out of my chair and into the bathroom. And that was when I noticed the cascade of blood from a wound in my leg. So off we go again. I’m fed up of that as well.

What I did in the end is to take one of the nurses’ sterile pads, fold it up against the wound and put some sticking plaster on it to hold it to the leg. That will have to do.

Once in bed I was asleep yet again quite quickly and only awoke a couple of times, perspiring away yet again. That seems to be becoming a habit as well.

When the alarm went off it took me a couple of minutes to rise to my feet and then to stagger across to the bathroom. No bread to make today.

However there was plenty of washing. My shorts, my socks, trousers and undies, and that’s before I could even think about washing myself. This sartorial elegance these days is proving to be too much for my routine. I might even end up being clean myself at this rate.

Back in here I attacked the dictaphone notes. Mountains of them too. I wanted to perform some experiments. That involved being outside so I set up a small kind of cubicle or tent inside the barn that I could use to change etc into some strange kind of clothes with a large woolly black mop as a hairpiece. I thought that if I were to set myself up there and then were to go outside I’d be fine. However it took so look to organise myself that everyone began to leave the house. The lorry driver who was leaving – he left at the same time every day – seemed to be leaving quite quickly and I was nowhere near ready to go to step outside so I knew that I was going to have problems doing what I had to do. One of my neighbours came down with his wife and he had to climb over my legs in order to find their way through the barn and go to the outdoors. He asked if I was living in here now. I relied “not exactly” and tried to explain the circumstances about where I was living but I was more interested in them clearing off so that I could continue making myself ready to go outside for just about what was left of the afternoon, most of which had disappeared with everyone either being late or hanging on. That I suppose included the Welsh class – I dunno – I can’t remember the Welsh class being there but I suppose that it must have been if I’m talking about it, I dunno but I still managed to get rid of everyone and carry on preparing myself in my little room or tent in the barn so that I could then step outside and do what’s needed.

And isn’t that the problem? I never see people for weeks then everyone turns up at once or they call me on the phone, and it’s always at just the wrong moment. I’m convinced that some people have installed a camera here at this apartment.

Did I dictate the dream about the old British couple and their mobile home thing towing a trailer? … "no you didn’t" – ed … They were somewhere in France heading back to the UK. I came across them on a car park and went over for a chat. While we were chatting, another vehicle pulled in on the car park and hit the trailer. I looked in the mirror and saw this car, which drove off across the car park to the far side. I ran after it and as I reached it a big woman, probably in her late 30s, a horsey type of person, alighted. She was in a car and trailer too. I asked her “why is it that you’ve driven all the way over here after hitting the trailer and making me run after you?” She went “ohh, I have my English insertion exam”. I said “you’d better come and sort out this trailer first that you’ve just hit”. She made a few disagreeable remarks, saying “that old guy is already in trouble for sexually assaulting me”. I couldn’t help thinking that no-one in their right minds would ever want to have any sexual contact with this woman at all. We stormed over to the old guy with his trailer with this woman still complaining that it was everyone else’s fault but hers, and how she had this important exam etc.

There are dozens of people like that whom we all know. “The rules are meant for the little people”. I know that I’m not exactly the best person to appeal to if you want someone to stick to the rules, but whatever comes out of it is no-one’s fault but my own. And if I can’t bewilder the opposition with brains, I will baffle them with b*llsh*t.

I was at a friend’s house and his mother came in and began to tell him off about something or other. After a couple of minutes she turned round to me and began to blame me, calling me all kinds of things as if it was all my fault, whatever it was that I had done. I’d contributed a little but it certainly wasn’t my responsibility. He had to nip out for ten minutes leaving me on my own with her. She continued to lecture with me while I was preparing to leave. I went downstairs into the kitchen. She was slitting eels open ready to jelly them. Of course I felt sick immediately but she carried on and carried on moaning at me. Then my friend came back so I said that I’d better go to say goodbye but I want to go to my garage next door and take away my tools because whatever is left in there you can have it. I have to liquidate some of my affairs and generally make a bit of space in my life. I’m never going to get round to doing these. I went next door to the garage. all the alarms were whistling because all the lights had been left on and the batteries were all low. I turned everything off but I couldn’t turn off the lights in the main room for some reason. Then I began to go through my tools and collecting the ones that I needed. I suddenly realised that there was far too much stuff here for me to take away. There’s nowhere for me to keep it back in my flat so I’ve no idea now what I’m going to do about anything. I am just so confused. That’s another dream about having garages and Ford Cortinas scattered halfway around the World isn’t it? I’ve had plenty of these in the past.

And I tell you what – I’m impressed that I can remember my previous dreams while I’m dreaming. That’s some achievement. But it’s true that in our dreams in the past we’ve had Ford Cortinas and workshops dotted about all over the place. Just like the old days, in fact. But I did once have a friend whose mother was from an island in the Mediterranean, and she was rather … well, I was going to say “emotional” but ” volatile” is a much better word.

The nurse put her sooty foot in the door and sorted me out with bandages and so on. She taught me a new phrase as well. I told her that the only way I would leave this building would be horizontally, but she explained that she would say les pieds à l’avant – “feet first”. She told me that when she worked in a hospital she was always taught that it’s the heads to the wall in bed, and if you are pushing a trolley or a bed with a patient on it, it’s always head first if they are alive, and feet first if they are dead. hence the expression.

After she left I made breakfast and then settled down to read my book. Our hero, lamenting the dispersal of excavated treasures into private hands and subsequently disappearing, has now left Rutupiae and set out down the coast past Deal and has arrived at the Roman lighthouse at Dover

Of course, it goes without saying that I agree with him. What treasures have been lost by being found before there was a system of registration and recording? And walls demolished for the rubble at Rutupiae and Verulamium and elsewhere?

Back in here I didn’t do much – just watched the highlights of the week’s football and watched TNS turned over by Y Bala with a couple of mystery time goals

My cleaner came along and fitted my patches. She also brought me a fairly new baking tray and oven pan that were on their way to the dechetterie

The taxi came early today so I wasn’t ready. She had a fare at Avranches to pick up at 13:30 so she wanted to get ahead if she could. It doesn’t bother me. After all, it’s free so it’s not an issue.

We picked up someone else going to the clinic and we had a good chat all the way down there. We were quite early so we had to wait, but that’s no big deal.

Once in the ward I weighed myself, and some of the weight that I’d lost last time has stayed off. Not all of it, but to say goodbye to some is encouraging.

Next step was to clamber into bed where eventually after a little wait they coupled me up. Nothing like as much pain as the other day when I literally hit the roof.

While I was being done I amused myself by finishing off the tagging of the videos and then read my book on Curious Church Customs. That is, when I wasn’t asleep. I did have a doze for half an hour or so but that’s the first time for several days. Isn’t that a change?

The driver who brought me back was quite chatty and had a lot to say for himself, and then my cleaner watched me up the stairs. On one stair I could lift my foot by just the leg muscles without using my hands. Just one, but that’s an improvement. The first time for several months.

Football was next. And it was also a pleasure watching Caernarfon turn over Connah’s Quay 3-1, and well-worth it too. But they had to cope not only with the opposition but with being on the receiving end of some of the most bizarre refereeing decisions that I’ve seen for a while.

And if you think that it’s just me, there were several comments made from the commentators’ box too. The referee was clearly refereeing a different game to the one that we were watching.

Tea tonight was a burger on a bap. When I looked in the freezer the other day I saw that I had enough burgers to last a lifetime – well, mine anyway. So I’d better start to eat them and make some space

So late again thanks to the football, I’ll dictate the radio notes and then go to bed ready to Fight the Good Fight tomorrow.

But thinking about cleaning myself up reminds me of A FILM in which another one of my heroes, Frankie Howerd, plays the rôle of a priest accompanying a leper in the Middle Ages.
There he is, ringing his bell and shouting "unclean! Unclean!"
And then he breaks the fourth wall, turns to the audience and says "well, let’s face it! It has been up to now, hasn’t it?"

Tuesday 16th April = I’M IN THE …

… cardiac unit of the regional hospital at Avranches while they try to work out why my blood results have gone so berserk just now.

To say that things are not unfolding as well as I would like is proving to be something of an understatement.

It goes without saying that last night I didn’t have much sleep. These hospital beds such as the one on which I was trying to sleep aren’t actually made for comfort and then of course the surroundings weren’t actually comfortable.

To my great surprise though there was something on the dictaphone so at some point I must have dropped off into the Land of Nod. At one point I was dreaming that I was thirsty so I opened my mouth and grabbed hold of a hose but it was the green house of the car and I think that that was where air came out. I felt so stupid not knowing that the green hose was not water at all but it was something else and I didn’t know it.

When the alarm went off (yes, an alarm. Bane of Britain strikes again!) I was a dispatcher for the US Air Force arranging their planes to go off on bombing missions against the Germans in their big Superfortresses … "actually B-17 Flying Fortresses" – ed … etc. It involved finding crews, preparing the crews for departure, putting them in their aeroplane, making sure that when they took off they knew where their meeting point was, over which beacon etc, generally keeping up with the thousands of changes that would take place during the course of the preparation of the mission

Of course they would actually be Flying Fortresses. It would be extremely rare to say the least to find a Superfortress flying on combat in the European theatre of operations. An expensive aeroplane such as that would have been a luxury when its advantages (super-long range and extremely high altitude) wouldn’t be reached anywhere where it would be required to deliver a bomb-load in Europe. Dollar for dollar, a Flying Fortress could drop many more bombs on Germany.

Of course, dispatching would be nothing new as far as I would be concerned. By air though would be a totally new medium but the principle would be pretty-much the same as by road.

However, retournons à nos moutons as they say around here, and things developed as I expected. I’ve been here before, once in Verdun and once in Winnipeg and the results were the same.

Luckily, with having expected it, the necessary precautions had been taken and it wasn’t as embarrassing as it might otherwise have been.

Naturally, I refused any food for breakfast while things tried to settle (a forlorn hope) but at least they moved me to a more convenient location, a little side room off the emergency treatment area, where things could evolve in comparative peace.

Nevertheless a few people came to see me, including the duty doctor. She told me at first that they were planning to keep me under observation for 24 hours and then send me home, but when she saw what was going on, she went away for another think.

In the meantime my blood tests came back. Something in my blood that should be less than 100 and I’ve been living with figures in the 260-270 range for the last few years has suddenly shot up to 316 in the period since my last blood test.

Apparently those kinds of figures won’t usually support life and they are quite concerned. Consequently an ambulance pulled up and I was bundled on a stretcher and stuck in the back.

So here I am at Avranches, 30 kilometres down the road where there’s a regional hospital.

Strangely enough, this was where it all started in March last year when the neurologist sent me here for tests and they couldn’t find the problem – hence my visits to Paris.

The hospital is an old monastery by the looks of things at the front, but there’s a whole huge new extension built on the back and it’s really quite nice and modern. The rooms are small but it’s not as if I need much

So here I am, being cared for and cossetted by a group of nurses. Actually, for the most part they are quite brusque and business-like which differs from most of the nurses in Paris who are much more patient-orientated, but I suppose that they have much more work to do and can’t find the time to be as sociable

While I was asleep at some point during the afternoon there was a dream about a lorry driver who was saying something about how easy it was to set himself up in business. He had a tanker lorry but I remember him having an old “D”-registered ex-RAF tanker before that one. He had several trailers that ere quite substantial trailers and I was saying that he didn’t pick these up for peanuts, and by the looks of things were specially-made. It was quite obvious to me that yes, you can set yourself up in business but you need to have the kind of capital to ba able to do that kind of thing. That’s not just available to everyone at all

And that reminds me of someone I know who lives in the countryside a few miles south of Nantwich, who made a fortune simply by being willing to go crawling and climbing where other people dared not go

The food here is the usual hospital rubbish, I have to say, so it’s a good job that I’m not feeling in the mood to eat anything right no, which is just as well.

And so I’m going to try to sleep – a forlorn hope, I reckon. I’m feeling a little better, but not that much.

I’ve set the bed fairly high so it’s easier for me to get out and in without any help (something that will be quite important as the night develops) but they aren’t happy about it and keep on trying to lower it. I’m winning the fight at the moment but things will almost inevitably change as the night goes on.

It’s “visions of Bernard Bresslaw” in CARRY ON DOCTOR hobbling around with his leg in plaster
"What’s the matter with you?" asked Frankie Howerd
"Appendicitis" said Bresslaw
"So why the plaster on the leg?"
"I fell off the operating table"

Wednesday 12th February 2020 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

people on beach plat gousset granville manche normandy france eric hall… day it was today.

And I’m not talking about the weather either because considering we’re approaching mid-February, it was a nice day from that point of view. The wind had dropped considerably, it was a bright day and there were even people walking on the beach.

What I’m talking about is from a health point of view.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that for the end of November and for most of December I was feeling better than I have been doing for quite a number of years.

But then in the new year I could feel a decline in my health and I’ve been going steadily downhill.

Today I reached rock-bottom. Most of the day was spent flat-out in my chair and had this been a few months ago, I would have taken to my bed without a second thought.

But having had this good spell, I’m not going to let this defeat me and I fought it out. Not very successfully but there we go. And at one time I was really feeling totally and thoroughly dreadful.

But then, that’s what this illness is all about. They say that I’ll start to feel the effects after about five years, and it’s been almost four and a half since it was diagnosed – and that’s no telling how long I’d been carrying this illness before it was diagnosed

What I’ll have to do is to resign myself to it and just take things as they come, and reflect on the fact that I’ve been far worse than this.

and to make things worse, last night I did something that I haven’t done for years, and that is to go for a trip down to corridor. Back in the past it was at least once every night but for several years it’s not happened at all. Sign on the times, I reckon.

And to add insult to injury, I failed to beat any of the alarms and it was almost 07:00 when I arose, and that’s no good either. All in all, it’s pretty depressing.

After the medication I attacked the dictaphone. We started off with a crowd of us in a room and I was drinking coffee and everyone else was drinking beer. There was a guy there from the – the – and he asked me if I’d had the Audi. “Which one?” “The one that was on your front the other day”. “Ohh that’s been and gone, that has. It just passed through my hands, that kind of vehicle”
A litttle later on we had an unexpected visitor. A footballer by the name of Jamie Reed has just signed for Cefn Druids in the Welsh Premier League and has been making something of a good impression. Anyway, don’t ask me why but last night on my travels he was trying to do something phenomenal with a boat out of Normandy but I can’t remember what now but it had become quite popular but on one occasion there was a balloon in a shop with him and someone else holding onto it. This mobile thing was turning around so they were suspended in the air turning around this object or being turned by it, one or the other (… like a ceiling fan…). Plastic models of them, inflatable plastic models (…not the real Jamie Reed …)
Then I was in a music shop and there was a little old lady there. She had a play on a guitar but played with one of the machine heads so the thing went flat. She put the guitar somewhere not quite right but when the guy came back in, the shop assistant, he saw that the guitar had been moved and said “is anybody here?”. This little old lady spoke up. He checked the guitar and it was out of tune so he plugged it into a machine to tune it up. In the meantime I had a bass and I was busy trying to tune that but it wouldn’t tune for some reason or another. I had the tuning gauge that I had set to percentages instead of an analogue meter and of course that’s much more difficult to tune when it’s like that. Then a parcel arrived, a huge, heavy parcel. I wondered what it could be. Then I realised that I’d gone in for a kind of lifesaving course so I could be a monitor in Canada in the Arctic and this was the first part of that and it was my certificate to say that I’d passed together with a huge wooden framed glass panelled door as a prize. Of course I could use that on my house between the kitchen and the hallway in Winsford, which of course never had a doorway between the kitchen and the doorway, but there you go.

That’s not all of it either but seeing as you are probably eating your lunch right now, I’ll spare you the gory details.

That apple and pear puree that I made – the verdict is that it was absolutely perfect and I really do mean that. You couldn’t distinguish it from any shop-bought stuff.

And then I attacked the splitting of the digital tracks. Again not straightforward because nothing actually corresponded to the published track lists. After much of an effort I came to the conclusion that the published lists are wrong, which is a surprise but there you go.

And also, if that’s not enough, some people have a strange idea of what constitutes a track break and I’ve often had to rebuild tracks before I could split them again.

Apart from that, I’m not quite sure what else I did during the morning. I know that I finished off the notes for the current radio project and I brought THE SET LIST WEB PAGE up to date so that people can see what was played when.

The rest of the time was probably spent fighting off a pile of sleep

pontoon port de granville harbour manche normandy france eric hallFrom somewhere somehow I managed to summon up something to get me to go into town, even though I really didn’t feel like it at all.

Down into the port and across the top of the harbour gates seeing as they were closed, in order to see what they were up to. No sign of any wind turbine, as you might expect, but a very large floating pontoon with workmen and machinery thereupon.

And so the plot thickens here.

old pontoon walkway missing port de granville harbour manche normandy france eric hallBut I have an idea as to what might be going on because I’ve only just noticed that there’s something missing from the port.

In the space where Spirit of Conrad and Charles-Marie were moored up until very recently, there used to be a pontoon. And I should know because I walked on it once

But it’s not there now and I couldn’t possibly say when it went either. But anyway, I’ve only just noticed.

large crane port de granville harbour manche normandy france eric hallAnd it makes me wonder what this machine might be doing here.

It’s a proper heavy-duty crane and is carrying a makers plate saying that it’s rated at 60 tonnes. Of course with an outstretched arm it won’t lift anything like that, but nevertheless they wouldn’t have brought something like this down here when they can have a mobile crane like the one that’s here already.

So we are definitely going to be having some strange things going on.

new pontoons port de granville harbour manche normandy france eric hallBut this might account for a lot of what is happening.

Out of curiosity and the fact that there was no-one around to stop me, I went for a closer look. Nice new rubber and aluminium heavy pontoons I reckon, presumably to replace the ones that they have ripped out and to go where they are installing the new supports.

But whether this brings any more marine traffic into the port remains to be seen. I haven’t seen a gravel boat since before I went on my High Arctic exploits

painting bus shelter cours de jonville granville manche normandy france eric hallAt La Mie Caline I picked up my dejeunette and as the weather was nice I went for a little walk.

Round by the Cours Jonville they were erecting a marquee. At first I thought it might have been something to do with Carnaval but the smell of cellulose soon changed my mind.

It looks as if they are spraying the bus shelter there, to tidy it up.

My walk took me along to the rue Roger Maris to see why the street was closed on Monday but whatever it was, they must have done it as the traffic is flowing freely down the hill.

old well rue des moulins granville manche normandy france eric hallAnd so I turned my attention to heading back to my apartment.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that in the past we’ve seen a few old wells dotted here and there about the town, particularly up near the Centre Agora.

But here’s one that I must have missed. I certainly haven’t seen this one before. It’s something that I shall have to look into sometime, if I could take off the roof.

And that reminds me of somethign out of Frankie Howerd and Up Pompeii
Senna the Soothsayer – “three times have I looked into the bottomless pit”
Frankie Howerd – “well, well, well”.

market hall art deco sculpture facade rue general patton granville manche normandy france eric hallcarrying on along the rue General Patton I came past the rear entrance to the Market Hall.

Although I’ve been out of that door a few times I’d never stopped to give it a good look. And I was impressed with it too – the Art Deco scultures of marine life such as shellfish.

It could do with a bit of a clean, a tidy-up and a repaint. It’s looking rather shabby around the edges, but then so am I and I’m not getting any younger either.

By the time that I returned it was long after lunchtime so I quickly made myself some butties and then attacked the work.

Fighting off wave after wave of fatigue, sometimes not successfully at all, I managed to dictate the notes, edit them, crop them and assemble a complete project, right down to the final track.

And for a change, I was short rather than overrun. Only by 7 seconds so I scanned through a collection of sound files that I’d made, cut out something from a previous project and inserted it in an appropriate place. There’s a lot to be said for building up your own sound library. I even added a cough to it too today.

A littl trimming here and there and off we go.

scaffolding house rue du nord granville manche normandy france eric hallapart from the sleep issues, I went for my afternoon walk too.

The rue du Nord was advertised as closed so I was intrigued to see why. That scaffolding that we saw the other day in the place du Marché aux Chevaux which I thought might have been for repairing the collapsing wall is in fact for repairing a house wall.

And with the street being so narrow, no cars can pass with the scaffolding erected. That will upset quite a few people I imagine.

people on promenade plat gousset granville manche normandy france eric hallDespite the waterlogged ground I managed to fit in my run along the north side of the walls because there was no-one around up here at all.

And when I made it round to the cliff overlooking the Plat Gousset I could see why. We’ve already seen the crowds on the beach and there were yet more people out there walking along the promenade enjoying the really nice weather.

And I can’t say that I blame them either. Given half a chance I would be down there too.

repairing roof rue des juifs granville manche normandy france eric hallBetter down there than up there with that guy.

There’s been a major house renovation project in the rue des Juifs that’s been proceeding along at snail’s pace – in fact they don’t seem to have advanced much since this time last year. But today, someone is up there fitting a new metal roof to it.

It makes me wonder what the seagulls have to say about it. They have been making nests on the roofs over there and I imagine it won’t be long until they are back.

tractor trailer tipping concrete port de granville harbour manche normandy france eric hallUnfortunately I didn’t manage to fit in my run along the square Maurice Marland because there were too many people about and I don’t want to show myself up.

But my ear picked up a noise of stones on the quayside so I went for a look to see what it might be. I thought that it might have been the gravel lorries starting to come back but in fact it was a tractor with a big trailer tipping rocks onto the quayside.

And that was interesting too. Tons of stuff going on around the place today.

tractor trailer loading rock ferry port de granville harbour manche normandy france eric hallkeeping my eyes peeled, I followed the tractor and trailer as they left the quayside to see where they went.

And I was in luck again. Regular readers of this rubbish will have seen the concrete breaker down at the foot of the ferry terminal at low tide breaking off the rocks that are jutting out.

And there is the tractor and trailer, presumably on their way to pick up the rocks and drop them off somewhere where they can be collected. They can’t go and dump those off around the corner like they do with the silt.

Back here and in between the waves of fatigue I pressed on, determined to finish the radio project. And even though it meant a late tea, it was all done and dusted and ready for the road.

Tea was steamed veg with falafel in vegan cheese sauce followed by rice pudding. And absolutely delicious it all was too. My cooking is definitely improving.

trawler unloadind fish port de granville harbour manche normandy france eric hallOut for my evening walk and I was the only one out there too so I managed another run. I have to keep on pushing on with this.

But with the foul weather having subsided it looks as if the fishermen are back at work. Here’s one of the trawler-type of boats unloading at the fish-processing plant, so it looks as if it’s back to business as usual.

So now all of my notes are written and I’ve listened to the radio programme to make sure that it’s okay, I can go to bed.

Here’s hoping that it’s a good night’s sleep and that I’ll be fighting fit in the morning. But I don’t think so at all. I think that i’m stuck with this.

Wednesday 24th December 2014 – I HAVE HAD A CALAMITY HERE TODAY.

Most of you know by now that my favourite comedian – in fact, my favourite media personality, is none other than the famous, if not legendary Frankie Howerd. My first serious encounter with him was in my early youth, in the TV series “Up Pompeii” in which he played Lurcio, the slave. About 20 years ago, the BBC rebroadcast all of the episodes and I recorded them on Video, and they were my first transfer onto DVD.

All of the episodes, including the pilot issue and the “Further Up Pompeii” series, were crammed onto 3 DVDs and I’ve been watching one episode each morning over breakfast now that I’ve finished the marathon that was the Saint.

I went to put the second DVD in today but it wouldn’t play, and a closer inspection revealed that the disc is split. So that’s destined for the bin and I’m devastated, particularly as the cassettes from which the DVDs were copied went into the dechetterie at Brussels when I emptied my apartment there.

So what do I do now?

ON the other hand, I’ve had a surprising evening this evening. I was invited out for a meal at a friend’s house. This friend has a friend who is chef at something of a famous restaurant in the Allier and for New Years Eve he’s on duty. And for the first time ever, he has two clients coming who are vegans.

He put a bit of research into a menu but seeing as how he had never cooked anything like this before, he wanted a guinea-pig to taste his concoction. Hence my invitation to dinner.

And the result? all I can say about it is that if the guests receive what I received this evening, they will be delighted. This was about the best meal that I have ever eaten in my life and I will give his restaurant five stars on this basis alone.

During the night, I was on my travels again. I was in Crewe – Mill Street in fact, and Mill Street before all of the demolitions and slum clearances in the 1960s. I’m not sure exactly why I was there.

At work, I pulled up the stairs that I had put into position yesterday, and the first thing that I did was to varnish the upper side of the wood. While it was drying, I sanded down the filling that I had done in the plasterboard that I had fitted yesterday, and then wallpapered the plasterboard. Once I’d done that, I masked off everything ready for painting.

While the paste was drying I suddenly had rather a dramatic revelation that stopped me dead in my tracks. It seems that I have forgotten to buy any paint to paint the wallpaper. This is a serious setback and that’s going to hold me up for a few days.

I varnished the reverse side of the wood for the stairs and then called it an early day. After all, it is Christmas Eve and I’m a bit stuck right now for the moment. but one good thing is that having cleaned out the chimney, I could bank up a really good fire and I had a big kettle of water boiling away in less than half an hour. I had a lovely hot wash ready for my trip out this evening.

Monday 3rd March 2014 – LAST NIGHT’S HOTEL …

hotel de la paix oloron ste marie pyrenees atlantique france… was called the Hotel de la Paix at Oloron Ste Marie, and a good choice it was too.

But I wasn’t alone in my room last night. Frankie Howerd, who as you know is my favourite comedian, came in with the script for his new “Carry On” film, all 391 pages of it, and so much of the night was taken up with reading it.

And I can still remember quite a lot of the script too this morning. I’ll have to sit and write it all down before I forget it. I could be on to something here.


And so with raging toothache yet again, I loaded up Caliburn and sat down to check the route for the next stage of my journey.

But something was clearly not correct as it made no sense at all, and after puzzling over the map for a good 20 minutes I realised that somehow in plotting my route I had turned over two pages of the map at once and I had driven myself up an impasse, as it were.

Consequently I decided to follow the Lady Who Lives In The Satnav for the route today and she took me via Tarbes and Pau and then right across the foothills of the Pyrenees – having me stuck behind a caravanette on a narrow series of lanes for a good 60 km.

Loads of interesting things to see but I wasn’t in any mood to stop and look – this toothache ws driving me mad. I felt like finding a dentist and having allof my teeth taken out – something like back in the 1970s when Malcolm Allison had been appoined team coach at Crystal Palace Football Club. He went to the dentist to have his teeth taken out, and they fitted seats instead.

vielha spainI finally met up with my route but The Lady etc etc had found me a route that seemed to be much shorter than mine so I followed that and ended up in Spain again.

She brought me to a town called Vielha and it’s a strange situation here because all the rivers flow north into France and we have the headwaters of the River Garonne here. The International boundary is not a watershed as you might think.

And as an aside, here I was stopped for a spot-check by a Spanish Police road patrol.


valle de aran vielha spainThe Lady Who etc etc had designs on sending me up the Valle de Aran, so it seemed. That’s a huge ski area with loads of faciiities, and the road up there goes through passes at well over 2000 metres. Ahh well – in for a penny, in for a pound.

But it wasn’t to be. About 15kms up the road and well into the snow, we encountered a sign “closed to all vehicles not equipped with chains” – and even local 4×4 drivers were chaining up for the route. They know the area so much better than I do and they’ve been driving in snow for a lot longer than I have, so if they are chaining up, what chance do I have with Caliburn?

The Lady Who Lives etc etc was rather annoyed about me retracing my steps but discretion is the better part of valour.


We carried on south through the enormous Tunnel de Vielha – this road would have been so much fun to drive 30 years ago before the tunnel had been built, I reckon – and this brought me out on the southern side of the Pyrenees and, would you believe, into the sun.
col de perves aragon spain
She took me off the main road and we climbed up and up and up to the aptly-named Col de Perves, where Strawberry Moose stopped for a photo opportunity as you might expect. With a name like that, he just had to.

A few flakes of snow fell onto the camera lens, but nothing much to worry about. There was hardly a trace of snow on the ground anywhere around here.


valle de aran pyrenees spain
Not so over there, though.

That was where I actually should have been – climbing up out of the Valle de Aran and over the top to the town of Sort which is just on the other side of those mountains over there. This was turning into something of an enormous detour.

col de perves spainAnd if you thought that the climb up the Col de Perves was exciting, the descent was even more so.

The town of Perves is situated just below the summit and there is a track from there that leads straight downhill – clearly back before the days of the motor-car the peasants were a hardy lot – but for modern vehicles there’s a road something like this – and several good kilometres of it too. Where I’m standing is about half-way down but it’s the first good photo opportunity where there is some kind of parking.

col de perves spainBy now though the weather has considerably brightened up and I was really enjoying the day, had it not been for this raging toothache that was putting the dampers on just about everything.

And we hadn’t finished with the mountains yet either.

We ended up climbing up a mountain pass or two via a road that was barely wide enough to take Caliburn and that was exciting when we met a couple of vehicles coming the other way. But once we arrived in Sort (about two hours after the time I should have been here) the rest of the journey was comparatively straightforward. A couple of mountain passes to be sure, but we are on N-roads, the equivelent of A-roads in the UK and I arrived at my ultimate destination, the little country of Andorra, without further ado.


But this toothache is driving me berserk and I went straight to bed, where I promptly crashed out, and that was that.

Tuesday 15th November 2011 – IT’S NOT AS EASY …

… as you might think putting up this wind turbine and despite a good day’s work I’ve hardly scratched the surface of it.

First job was to reposition all of the planks on the scaffolding so that they are where I want them to be, and then to put the ladder where it should be as well. And that wasn’t the work of five minutes either.

After that it was to cut up an old scrap scaffolding pole (I bought a couple of those with just this kind of purpose in mind) to make the horizontal battens on the wall. There’s an overhang on the roof of about 70mms and so I’m having to invent something to stand the upright pole 70mms out of the wall, and that’s not easy.

Next task was to drill the holes for the mounting brackets to take the horizontal battens. And with the hard stone that we have around here this was playing havoc with the batteries on the Hitachi battery-powered SDS drill.

And then I had an idea.

I have a mains SDS drill – about 750 watts-worth but it’s pretty lightweight and not any better than the Hitachi. That’s always been down here but back in Brussels a few years ago I recalled buying a really heavy-duty 1050 watt SDS drill – with rotostop and everything. And that would make short work of drilling the holes.

  1. And so I had to hunt that down somewhere around the house or the barn and eventually, much to my surprise, I actually discovered it.
  2. And then it was to wire in the 1500-watt mega-inverter that I bought for the barn.
  3. And then it was to trail an electrical cable all around the side of the house from across the barn.
  4. And then look for an adapter because the drill is still wired to a European plug.

But now you see why it’s taking me so long.

But once I was up and running, that drill went through the stone like a hot knife through butter.

After much manipulation I have one of the horizontal battens on now, and that cement mastic stuff is excellent. But I’m going to have to take it off because I’ve thought of an improvement and I shall be doing that tomorrow.

What with having to manipulate the heavy upright pole (and that wasn’t easy either) I was exhausted and in any case heaving heavy pipes around 10 metres up in the air by the light of a torch is not recommended.

We talked the other day about the film Tony Rome. Now that film is from the mid-60s and one of the things that was going through my mind was “is this the earliest ‘mainstream’ film to have a reasonably-explicit lesbian love scene in it?”

I spent all afternoon trying to think if there was one any earlier than this but nothing came to mind, apart from some subculture stuff in the 1920s

Secondly, I was watching an episode of The Prisoner this morning at breakfast – “It’s Your Funeral” – and one of the actresses in it caught my ear. And I mean that too because while I didn’t recognise the face, the voice was ringing in my ears telling me something.

And it wasn’t until much later that the penny dropped. It was no one other than Annette Andre, which might mean nothing to you but her most famous role was as Philia, Michael Crawford’s sidekick in the film version of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum

That film which, although excellent in its own right, was notorious for dropping Frankie Howerd from the lead role in favour of the dreadful Zero Mostel and featuring a cameo of Buster Keaton, two things done simply so that the film would have a wider audience in the USA.