Tag Archives: high winds

LIVE: Thursday 17th September 2026 – IT’S ALL EXTREMELY …

… quiet in here tonight. And that’s because I’m on my own. Round about midday, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off to the car and the last time that I saw them, they were heading due east somewhere, in the general direction of Munich.

It was really lovely having company. After all, I’m not used to it. and as I said to him … "the friend, not the Hound of the Baskervilles" – ed … it’s open house here, and he and his sidekick are welcome to come here any time they want and can stay as long as they like.

Especially if he continues to make the coffee like that.

And I was ready for a mug of coffee this morning. I was in bed at something like a reasonable time, and although the wind was blowing, it didn’t disturb me that much and I was soon asleep.

However, round about 04:00, there was an enormous gust of wind that awoke me dramatically, and I wasn’t the only one to be awakened because my friend told me later that the Hound of the Baskervilles had awoken him round about that time, so something had obviously scared him … "the Hound of the Baskervilles, not the friend" – ed …

Once I was awake, I found it hard to go back to sleep and I tossed and turned for hours. However, at some point, I must have dozed off because the alarm awoke me.

And for once, I failed to beat the second alarm, dismal failure that I am. I just couldn’t unstick myself from the bed and I don’t know why. Consequently, I was quite a while late starting work this morning.

The first task was to listen to the dictaphone to see where I’d been during the night.

During World War II the Chinese had decided to co-operate with the Allies against Japan, so they had sent radio signalmen on board many of the Allied ships. Those ships flew a white flag with the letter "G" on it. Someone made some remark about the one on his boat, saying that he was wearing some kind of flowing kimono or something like that in luxurious silk. Of course, we were sitting there thinking that he’s not going to last five minutes like that.

Being on board a ship would be nothing to bother me, although I have no idea where the Chinese man in his blue flowing kimono comes into it all.

Then this dream changed to something else. I was with a colleague from work and we were in Czechoslovakia or somewhere, and I was living there, and it was very similar to that one about Poland or Czechoslovakia the other week. We had to go to see someone, so another one of the workers picked me up and drove me all the way to Prague for this meeting. It turned out in effect that there was only going to be two of us, a young person from the other side. We had this meeting in what used to be a railway station, and we were chatting really about not very much at all. Just as the meeting was ending, this guy said that he’d forgotten to give him something. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a hammerhead. He said that that had fallen off someone’s Land Rover the other day. I mentioned a name and asked “it’s not him, is it, because he’s only just bought a new one?” but it wasn’t. Anyway, what happened next? So we made ready to go, and I suddenly remembered that someone had given me an axe head to sharpen, so I was busy sharpening the blade on the axe. The person with me was rather frightened in case I hurt myself, so he held my elbow. That led to an argument because you can’t sharpen anything if someone is holding your arm.

We’ve been spending a lot of time in Czechoslovakia and the Czech Republic just recently. Wishful thinking on my part, obviously. But the name that I mentioned was someone related in part to where I used to work.

Sharpening the axe head is also an interesting situation to contemplate, with someone trying to stop me carrying out my plans, which seem to have been infiltrated. It’s a nuisance, isn’t it?

The nurse came along for his final German lesson, a final big hug of the Hound of the Baskervilles and to sort out my feet and legs. And then another Welsh lesson, big hug, etc., before parting.

The Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off on yet another walkie, and I made breakfast and read some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

Today’s subject is columnar ice, and that set me off on the trail of William Scoresby. He was one of the earliest of the “ice-masters” who worked the whaling ships in the Davis Strait and places like that in the first quarter of the nineteenth century. He gave a great deal of advice to the Admiralty about his experiences in the Hugh Arctic, especially concerning the ill-fated Franklin Expedition, but it was usually always rejected because he was a “civilian” and “the Admiralty knew best”, even if no Royal Navy sailors had ever set foot in the places where Scoresby had been.

His book, “Journal of a Voyage to the Northern Whale Fishery”, IS AVAILABLE ON LINE and as of this morning, is available in my own little digital book collection to read at a later date. I can see that I shall have to take my laptop with me when I go, in order to read all these books at my leisure. I hope that they have charging points down below where I’m going. Would I need an international adapter?

Back in here, there were a few things that needed finishing off, and then I started to make a couple of plans for things that I need to do over the weekend. However, proceedings were brought to an abrupt halt by the alarm reminding me that I need to prepare for dialysis. When you think about it, it’s bizarre that I have to set an alarm to remind me, but it’s not a case of “I might forget”. It’s just that with having this tendency to fall asleep at strange times and in strange places, I don’t want to be asleep when the taxi comes for me.

In the kitchen, I had my disgusting drink and midday medication, and my cleaner came to put the anaesthetic on my arm. However, as you might expect, she spent more time saying goodbye to the Hound of the Baskervilles, who was on the point of leaving.

After everyone had left, I waited for the taxi – not that I had to wait long because it was here at 12:42. There was already one passenger aboard, and we had to stop at the Aqua-gym at St Pair to pick up our usual Thursday passenger. Consequently, we arrived at dialysis early, not that it did me much good because so did everyone else, and I had to wait until 14:20 before I was up and running.

Once I was finally on my way, I could watch the football. Today, it was Trefelin, near the bottom of the table, against Penybont, third from top. And it was not, as you might expect, another “men against boys” encounter, but Trefelin pushed Penybont all the way and the latter had to work really hard for their 1-0 victory. Trefelin’s defence was excellent, except for that one lapse of concentration that cost them dear.

After that, we had the first half of Llandudno v Caernarfon. Llandudno, another newly promoted side, has adapted well to the level of skill required in the Premier League, and when I ran out of time watching the game, they were down 1-0 but by no means out of the contest and had, in fact, looked the better side.

There had been a few interruptions during my session. For once, the blood pressure alarm sounded only once or twice, but the most important was the doctor, telling me that she’d arranged this Hôpital de Jour thing and I should be expecting to hear from the hospital quite soon about it. And as she was walking away, my telephone rang. It was the hospital telling me that I had to be there on Monday morning at 09:00.

Blimey! Things are moving fast!

Half an hour later, the nurse came to give me the details of the appointment and said that she’d arranged the taxi to pick me up and the one to take me to dialysis afterwards. What a day that will be!

The nurse who was on duty was the one who is … errr … more relaxed about her working methods and, for some reason that I have yet to understand, switched off my machine a good five minutes before the end of the session, despite my protests. Every gram or millilitre that they can squeeze out of me is important.

Not only that, but she didn’t come back to unplug me for ten minutes so she may as well have left it running.

My taxi driver, the same one who brought me, was waiting for me, but we had to go across to the hospital to pick up someone else going to Granville so it was about 18:30 when I arrived home. My faithful cleaner was waiting for me and helped me into my apartment, where she stuck a disgusting drink into my sweaty little mitt.

After she left, I began to think about eating but I couldn’t face cooking anything tonight, so I had some crackers with cheese spread, followed by one of my nice, juicy plums. And it was so juicy that I’d better eat the rest quite quickly.

Once I’d dined, I began to write out my notes, but as usual, the dialysis had been a little too much and I couldn’t stay awake. I ended up posting on-line as far as I’d reached and went to bed. The rest can wait.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the High Arctic… "well, one of us has" – ed … there was a radio programme in Canada once discussing global warming, the retreat of the ice and the migration northwards of the species who live on it.
However, the programme was more concerned with the polar bears who were migrating south into human-inhabited zones hunting for food.
Part of the discussion concerned the odd handful of polar bears who migrated south, and then back north again, then back south etc., as if they couldn’t make up their minds.
"There’s no particular worry about those" said a panellist.
"Why not?" asked the presenter.
"They are what we call the ‘bi-polar bears’"

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LIVE: Tuesday 15th September 2026 – THAT WAS A …

… much better day today than yesterday was, although it does have to be said that it could hardly be any worse. For a start, I actually managed to go to sleep, which is more than I did the previous night.

Having gone to bed at about 21;00, after having been asleep on my chair for at least an hour, I was asleep quite quickly. And I didn’t need much rocking either. And there I lay, fast asleep, until something rather dramatic awoke me. It was one of these occasions where something makes me suddenly sit bolt-upright, but unlike most of the other times, it wasn’t a subconscious feeling but a real something.

After that, I just couldn’t go back to sleep. After a while I checked the time, and it was 02:48 so the noise or whatever must have been about 02:00, I reckon. But despite all that, I carried on trying to go to sleep, but it was of no use really. For all the good that it did me, I needn’t have bothered to try.

When I noticed that the time was 05:51, I decided that I may as well make an early start out of it all, so I stood up and began to dress. At east, I “tried to stand up” but for some reason my legs wouldn’t work to that much effect, and it took me about three or four goes before I was finally upright. And then, round about 06:00, I was sitting at the computer.

The first job, of course, was to deal with the notes from last night. I thought that it wouldn’t take long to finish them, but I was surprised at how much there was to write. I ended up with almost two thousand three hundred words – that’s about sixty per cent more than the average. Consequently, I was only just putting the finishing touches to them when I began to wake up and smell the coffee.

That brought the proceedings to a rapid conclusion, and I went into the kitchen to try to be sociable.

Hot, strong coffee first thing in the morning is delicious, especially the way that my friend makes it, so I quite enjoyed drinking it while we chatted.

Our leisurely morning was interrupted by the arrival of the nurse. The Hound of the Baskervilles didn’t bark at all – he just rolled onto his back ready for a tickle-tummy, and the nurse duly obliged.

He then attended to me … "the nurse, not the Hound of the Baskervilles" – ed …, and while he was sorting out my legs and feet, we had an interesting chat. But don’t ask me what it was about because I can’t remember now. It’s one of those things that I’ll probably remember about one tenth of a second after I’ve pressed “send” later on.

After saying goodbye to the Hound of the Baskervilles, the nurse cleared off, and the aforementioned … "the Hound of the Baskervilles, not the nurse" – ed …, dragged his master outside for another round of walkies. I stayed behind, of course, and made my breakfast, and while I was eating, I was reading some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870.

At the moment, everyone is agreeing with everyone else, there’s no dissent, no disagreement, and the World in rural Herefordshire is at peace. They are all admiring the beautiful view, and I am admiring the beautiful prose, such as "the magnificent vertical wall of the celebrated Coldwell rocks, so splendidly wooded, and through which we have wended our way hither"

Back in here later, I revised for my Welsh and then went to the lesson. We have loads of new students in our class, and a new teacher too. But unfortunately she swallows her words so we can’t make out half the time what she’s saying, and she’s nothing like as well organised as our previous one. I also remain unconvinced that she actually knows her subject as well as she ought to.

We shall see.

When the lesson ended, I had a few things to do and also to sort out my clean clothes for a shower, because my cleaner comes today and she usually chases me thereunder. So when she turned up, she gave the Hound of the Baskervilles his usual big stroke, and then I decided on a change of plan.

The temperature was slowly falling, the weather was slowly deteriorating and the wind was slowly rising. So what I thought that we’d do is that the three of us (and the Hound of the Baskervilles as bodyguard) go to do a little job outside that I’ve been trying to do for an absolute age.

So they walked off and I staggered off outside to see what we could do. We attacked this job, and surprisingly, it was completely finished in about fifteen minutes. The most difficult and longest part of the job was my walking back to the apartment afterwards, because the wind was definitely rising now. And today was the first day since spring that I’d work a jacket outside.

Winter is acumen in. Lhude sing Rudolph.

Back in here, the first thing that I noticed was that we could hardly move around, there was that much stuff in here. But once a couple of things had gone up into my loft space, it made it slightly … "only slightly" – ed … better.

My cleaner organised the bathroom for me, and then she chased me under the shower, so we have a nice, clean boy … "well, clean, anyway" – ed … this evening. And once I’d come out of the bathroom, my cleaner stopped playing with the Hound of the Baskervilles, sorted out the bathroom and went back upstairs to her place, leaving the rest of us alone.

Once I was organised, I came back in here to do some work. However, I didn’t get very far because Rosemary rang for a chat. Only a very short one today – one hour, nineteen minutes and fifty-two seconds.

But one of the things that we discussed was diuretics, of course, and Rosemary suggested that many fruits and vegetables have diuretic properties. That set me off on another trail, and by the end of our chat, I had a pile of recipes and daily food programmes organised by my friendly neighbourhood chatbot, and there was a cheap good-make juicing machine in my shopping basket ready for purchase tomorrow. The idea of drinking more is something that I need to do, so drinking something that actually has a positive effect on my fluid retention has to be a good way forward.

While all of this was going on, my friend was making tea, and we ended up with sausage, chips and beans. And I know that that’s what Friday’s meal usually is, but the Hound of the Baskervilles is going home on Thursday, taking my friend with him, and so he wants to try the sausages once more before he goes.

The pudding of tinned apricots and my vegan ice cream from Noz was exceptionally good. The ice cream is lovely and I wish now that I’d bought some more the other day.

Later on in here, there was yet more football – another basement clash between two newly-promoted sides, Trefelin and Cambrian United.

It was a strange game too. Plenty of skill on offer and yet plenty of midfield slogging too. But the differences between the two sides were evident. Cambian’s defence was magnificent and never looked like being beaten. They were always thinking one step ahead of the ball and not one step behind, as were their opponents, and there was a difference in physical presence. I had to laugh at one point when a Cambrian central defender and a Trefelin attacker leapt for a ball in the air. The Cambrian defender simply stuck out two hands and pushed the attacker out of the way to have a clear header.

That just about summed up Trefelin’s day, but the final scoreline of 4-0 to Cambrian was something very much of an exaggeration.

But what I’m not going to exaggerate is my need to go to bed, so I’m clearing off. Another day of rest tomorrow and then we go again. That is, if I can get some sleep with this wind that is now howling around outside like the devil.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Report of the Woolhope Naturalists Club … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone asked me whether it would be a suitable thing to read to a group of prisoners in gaol.
"Well, it would have its prose and cons, wouldn’t it?" I replied.

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Thursday 20th August 2026 – I DON’T KNOW …

… what kind of day it has been today. It certainly wasn’t as good as yesterday, that’s for sure.

Yesterday, I was really feeling fighting fit, that’s for sure. It was after midnight when I stopped letting it all hang out and crawled into bed, although I wasn’t feeling tired in the slightest, as I believe I said. And I didn’t go to sleep very quickly either.

But when I did finally go to sleep, it wasn’t for too long. When I realised that I was awake (we’ve talked about this just recently), there was a howling gale blowing outside, not the kind of noise you want to hear when you are trying to sleep.

There was no possibility of going back to sleep with all of that noise going on so I just lay there, gently relaxing, or, at least, doing the best that I could to relax. I remember at one point checking the time, and it was 04:42.

It was round about that point that I must have gone back to sleep, for I was definitely asleep when the alarm sounded at 06:29, and the wind was howling around like mad.

As usual, it took me a while to leave the bed and go into the bathroom to sort myself out and even to have a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis.

Back in here I went to check the window to make sure that everything was in good order, but as soon as I opened it, the howling stopped. When I closed it again, the howling stayed stopped. So I have no idea what was going on. Was I dreaming the noise?

First thing to do was to check the dictaphone and to see where I’d been during the night. However, I needn’t have bothered as the dictaphone was devoid of entries again.

However : –

I’m not sure whether this counts as a dream or not, but I was having another one of those coughing fits that seems to go on for ever, so in the end, when it calmed down, I reached for my emergency supplies. When I was tidying up a while ago, I found a couple of packets of menthol and eucalyptus sweets, and I’ve been taking a couple to bed with me every night for the last few days. Anyway, I reached for one of my sweets, unwrapped it and went to pop it into my mouth. What happened next was that I bit my finger. There was no sweet at all in my hand and no unwrapped paper nearby. If it wasn’t a dream, it was certainly weird

This is a good example of never knowing whether I’m awake, asleep or somewhere in between when I’m lying there in bed. I would have sworn that I really was reaching for a sweet.

My nurse turned up a little later than yesterday. He was talking about not very much and soon left the building, leaving me to go and make breakfast.

While I was eating, I was reading yet more about the bombing of England in World War I. And interestingly, at Poelkapelle in Belgium not so long ago, they came across the wreckage of a Staaken, one of Germany’s giant four-engined bombers nearly as big as a B-29 Superfortress, embedded in the ground. It had been shot down on 21st April 1918.

Back in here, there were a few things to do so I set to work, and then I began to write the notes for the radio programme from yesterday. They were about half-done when I had to knock off, but not to worry, I’ll finish them tomorrow.

At midday I went to prepare my things for dialysis, and then my faithful cleaner put in her appearance to apply the anaesthetic to my arm.

She didn’t stay long today, which was just as well because the taxi came early for me. And not just early but at 12:33. Not that it bothered me because, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the earlier I start, the earlier I finish.

We had to pick up Mrs Dinosaur and also another woman at the health centre in St Pair, and then we could set off for Avranches.

It was 13:30 when we arrived, and by 14:05, I was up and running. However, it wasn’t easy because, once more, there’s a huge excess of liquid. Consequently, I told them to run it for four hours instead of three, and have you any idea just how tiring it is to have the machine going at max for four hours?

Still, it gave me plenty of opportunity to watch the football from this last weekend. The match between Hwlffordd and Penybont was exciting. It was proper end-to-end football with plenty of skill, not like some of the midfield mauls that we saw earlier. Penybont won 3-0, which was expected, but it was good all the same.

And afterwards, I managed to watch some of Caernarfon v Penybont from the weekend before. There’s still a good bit to go, but even so, it looks like another good, skilful game.

There were problems with the machine, or, rather, with me, and the alarm on the machine was constantly going off. A doctor came to see me too, the new relief doctor, and she gave me a prescription for an antibiotic.

There was also a nurse who came by with a questionnaire for me to answer. Honestly, it was like Euston Station in my little room this afternoon.

When it was time for me to be unplugged, the nurse dealt with me straight away. Even better, the taxi was waiting for me too. We had to drop off Mrs Dinosaur but I was soon back home.

My cleaner was there waiting and she helped me into the apartment, and when I was sitting down, she stuffed a disgusting drink into my hands.

After she left, I grabbed a couple of biscuits and came in here. I didn’t feel like making tea so I wrote my notes instead.

Now, I’m off to bed ready for a nice relaxing day tomorrow, I don’t think. And then on Saturday, it’s dialysis again. I’m getting sick of this.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the World War I bombing of England … "well, one of us has" – ed … a Zeppelin actually flew over Stoke-on-Trent and dropped several bombs on the city.
When I was speaking to a friend, I told him about this.
"What happened?" he asked.
"The bombing was terrible" I replied. "So much so that it caused £140,000,000 worth of improvements."

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Wednesday 19th August 2026 – I DON’T KNOW …

… what happened today, but today was just like any ordinary day might have been, say, two or three years ago, and it’s astonishing how quickly things can turn round after the disaster that was yesterday.

By the time that I went to bed last night, things weren’t actually quite as bad as they had seemed to be during the day. Mind you, they couldn’t have been any worse, could they?

It was about 21:30 when I closed everything down in here, and it was about half an hour later, maybe, when I finally crawled into bed. It took a couple of minutes to make myself comfortable, and then I was asleep quite quickly afterwards.

Some time later, I found myself awake again. I’ve no idea what time because I couldn’t be bothered to look and “found myself awake” because, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I seem to be doing that quite regularly these days, and it’s a completely different feeling than “waking up”. I’ve no idea what’s happening here at all.

For a while, I was drifting in and out of that twilight world in no-man’s land where I’m neither awake nor asleep, and even if I weren’t, I would still have no clue as to whether I’m awake or whether I’m asleep.

At a certain moment, I looked at the time. 05:55. We had the usual internal discussion about whether I ought to get up, claim an early start and start to work, or whether I ought to simply try to go to sleep for the next half an hour or so.

In the end, I decided that I may as well go back to sleep if I could, so I turned over into my “easy sleep” position in the bed. And I must have gone to sleep because when the alarm went off to awaken me, I remember thinking “that was NEVER half an hour”.

We had the usual ten-minute delay while I worked up the courage, energy and enthusiasm to go to the bathroom to sort myself out, and then, back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to see where I’d been during the night.

That was pretty much a waste of time, but at least it shows me that I must have been in a really deep sleep last night, much deeper than normal.

There were plenty of other things to be done this morning, so I set to work, but I was interrupted by the nurse who came by at 08:02. Has he ever been that early before?

We talked about dialysis and the weather as he applied the cream and did his stuff to my feet, ankles and calves. After he left, I could make my breakfast.

One thing that I didn’t do was to read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman. Yesterday, I’d been considerably side-tracked by places mentioned in Freeman’s book and ended up roaming all around the countryside, looking at different places.

Just before knocking off, it had led me to, believe it or not, the “Zeppelin”, “Gotha” and “Giant” German bombing raids on the UK in World War I, and today, I carried on reading the articles on this subject while I was eating.

Eventually, back in here, I finished off doing what I had been doing before breakfast. And when that had been done, I turned my attention to this radio programme on which I’d been working.

Firstly, though, round about midday we had the rainstorm to end all rainstorms. It had been a grey day yesterday, but that had nothing on how it was today. At least, all the farmers will be pleased, even if the tourists won’t be.

So returning to the radio programme, I had to download some music, and that takes longer because my favourite supplier of music has … errr … burnt down and a huge number of discs has been lost.

Eventually, I managed to find what I needed, and it’s now all downloaded, the tracks I want have been selected, and the ten that I want for now have all been reformatted, chosen, paired and segued. I’ve even started to write some of the notes for them.

My cleaner put her sooty foot in the apartment too. She came to bring me the medication that she’d bought from the chemists as I seem to be running out of a lot of it right now. We ended up having a chat and then she wandered off on her travels. I noticed that not only had the rain stopped, but it was bright, warm sunshine out there so I opened my window to let some fresh air in.

When I’d finished what I was doing on the radio programme, I went to make tea. Tonight, it was pasta and various vegetables tossed in a cheese sauce with tarragon and chives. And delicious it was too. And the final two slices of the first half of the home-made fruit bread that I’d made ten or so days ago. Now I shall have to fetch the other half out of the freezer.

So back in here, I wrote out my notes for today, and now, once I’ve checked the stats, done the backup, etc., I’ll be off to bed and hope that these gale-force winds will drop and let me sleep. It’s horribly later than usual but yet I’m not even remotely tired. What on earth is going on here?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the chemists … "well, one of us has" – ed … while my cleaner was in the chemist’s just now, a man came in and went up to the other counter and asked "a packet of condoms, please."
The chemist gave him a packet and asked "do you need a bag?"
The man replied "there’s one at home in bed. That’s why I need the condoms"

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Sunday 26th July 2026 – TODAY, I HAVE HAD …

… another one of the laziest days that I have ever had, and about time too. I should put my feet up and relax more often, I reckon.

But it wasn’t always going to be like that. I was in bed last night by about 23:15 or so and was asleep quite quickly too. That was despite the howling gale that sprung up during the night

However, I didn’t stay asleep for long. Round about 03:30, I had another one of these dramatic awakenings. This is what I found on the dictaphone later.

Someone shouted out Mae’r papurau’n anghywir – “the papers are incorrect” – and something about me being enwog, which means “famous”. I sat bolt upright at that and I’ve no idea at all what they meant by it.

Whatever was going on there, I have no idea. But it was dramatic enough to give me another one of these strange awakenings.

After that, I couldn’t go back to sleep and round about 06:50, I got up and went to the bathroom. Back in here, I listened to the dictaphone but that dream above was all. Outside, the wind had died down but it was damp as if it had rained through the night. That will make the local farmers happy.

With nothing else to transcribe on the dictaphone, I set about doing other things until Isabelle the Nurse came. She was surprised to find me out of bed, so I explained about my sleeping issues. She didn’t say much, just told me about her two weeks off and how she’d had to go to the doctor for her sinuses, and after she’d finished my legs and feet, she cleared off on the rest of her rounds.

Once she’d gone, I could make breakfast. Porridge, strong black coffee, juice and two of the home-made croissants that I made last weekend. And while I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

In discussing Amr ibn al-As, conqueror of Egypt, and the mosque that he built in celebration, he says "he did not, like Constantine at Rome, or Mahomet at Constantinople, employ an existing building for his new use, and so impress an existing type upon future structures, but erected a new one from the ground in such a manner as might be expected from a horde of invaders animated by the fanatical spirit of their new religion of lust and bloodshed, under a chief whose name is mainly remembered as the destroyer of the noblest library the world had hitherto beheld"

Leaving aside the question of the Inquisition, the Albigensian Crusade, and the Conquistadores in Central and South America for the moment, the Great Library at Alexandria was first burnt by Julius Caesar in 48 BC and secondly, in 272 AD, by the emperor Aurelian. The story of Amr burning the library in 642 AD was not recorded until over five hundred years later, and many scholars, long before Charles Freeman began writing his book, have questioned its authenticity.

Back in here afterwards, I had the notes from yesterday to type, and that took much longer than it ought, mainly due to the number of times I fell asleep while doing it.

And then we had the football. First off was Stranraer v Falkirk. Stranraer are, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, in the fourth tier and Falkirk are in the first. We weren’t expecting too much and the result, a 3-0 victory to the Bairns, was not unexpected.

However, at times Stranraer slugged it out toe-to-toe, and it was difficult to tell who was the tier-one team. Stranraer can feel quite comfortable with themselves after this.

On the other hand, Greenock Morton put up the usual sad, dismal performance against Inverness, going down 1-0 at home. They’ve lost all four games and failed to score a single goal. And on the evidence of what I’ve seen so far, they could be playing until next weekend, out on the pitch all alone, and they still wouldn’t manage to score a goal.

After a disgusting drink, I had a few more things to do, and they took an age to finish, mainly because I kept on crashing out while I was trying to do them. I must have fallen asleep at least three times, sometimes for as long as an hour. I really don’t know what’s happening to me right now.

And then it was baking time. So refuelled by one of these energy drinks, I tackled the question of home-made bread and home-made fruit bread. It took up most of the late afternoon and early evening, but even so, they turned out very well indeed and I can’t wait to get my teeth into them. They look absolutely delicious.

So right now, I’m going to check the statistics, back up the computer and so on and then go to bed. I have dialysis tomorrow and I wonder what’s going to happen there.
I have a bad feeling about it all.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Greenock Morton’s dismal performances … "well, one of us has" – ed … a reporter from BBC Scotland Sport rang up manager Ian Murray and asked him how he was going to deal with the issues.
"They’ll be coming in for training on Sunday" replied Murray. "I have a load of traffic cones and the players are going to practise dribbling around them all day"
So on Sunday afternoon, the reporter rang back to ask how things were going.
"Dreadful" replied Murray. "At the moment, the cones are leading three-nil"

0

Thursday 2nd July 2026 – I AM ABSOLUTELY …

… drained. And quite literally too. They took almost three litres of liquid out of me today. In fact, I’m not sure how on earth they arrived at that figure because, according to my calculations, it should have been less than two litres. I don’t know where this figure of three litres came from.

It certainly didn’t come from last night because at some kind of stupid hour, I had to go for a walk on the parapet.

Last night was another one of those nights where I really ought to have been in bed a long time before I actually was. Instead, I dillied and dallied, dallied and dillied, lost my way and don’t know where to go and it was once again after 23:00 before I finally crawled into my nice bed.

Once more, I was asleep quite quickly, and once more, it wasn’t for long. At some point quite early on, the wind got up and the open window in my room began to bang against the shutter. No-one could sleep through that noise, certainly not me, so in the end I had to leave the bed and close the window properly.

While I was up, I thought that I may as well kill two birds with one stone and go to stroll the parapet, and when I finally came back in here, I discovered that the wind had dropped completely. That was a waste of half an hour, that was.

Back in bed, despite all of my best efforts, I couldn’t go back to sleep for ages, but I must have managed it at some point because I was flat out again when the alarm went off at 06:29 as usual.

Also, just as usual, it took me a while to summon up the courage and the enthusiasm to leave the edge of the bed and head into the bathroom to sort myself out, but once washed and dressed, and shaved in case I meet Emile the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out what had happened during the night.

It was another one of these commune-type places with lots of people living in there, including me. We all came down for breakfast one morning, and it was the usual chaotic scene at the table with things everywhere. Someone went to unpack the things ready for today and pulled out the football, but it was burst so that was that. We went for breakfast and it was chaos. I knocked over someone’s bottle of water and all of this. In the end, someone asked “what are we going to do at the weekend?”. I thought, “well, it looks like it’s going to be a nice weekend so why don’t we go and have a picnic?”. So we all decided that we’d go for a picnic. Someone asked “what are we going to do for food?” so I replied that if everyone makes something and brings something, then we can all swap and have bits of this and bits of that. That all sounded like a good idea to them so that was what we decided to do. We were sorting out who was going with whom or whatever, and the woman who seemed to be in charge said “Eric, you go with Dyan”. I couldn’t think for a minute who Dyan was but I reckoned that when it’s time to go, she’ll come and find me. So we decided on this picnic.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I did once live in a commune back in the 1970s, but only for a few months and never ever again. “More capitalist than the capitalists” was the phrase that rang through my mind, as well as “what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine too”. I remember that I had a bit of luck with a job that I did and came out of it quite well. “Where’s our share?” a few of the others asked. “While you were out there working, we were sending you good vibes!” “OK,” I replied. “Next time you go out to work, I’ll send you good vibes too”. I ended up living in my van after that, and believe me, I wasn’t sorry.

However, if the Dyan concerned was actually Dyan Birch, I’d change my mind in an instant. She could come anywhere with me, any time she likes, as long as SHE SINGS TO ME. That’s the song that I want to be played right at the end of when they stick me in the ground, as long as it’s she who is singing it.

And there’s plenty of truth in the story about the picnics. We had them regularly in the Auvergne when I lived there. I’d always make a dish of curried lentils with peppers, sweetcorn, etc., and it was interesting to watch the reactions. The British and Dutch people would be going “God, Eric, what’s this insipid stuff?” and the French people would be fanning their mouths, gulping down pints of water and steaming out of their ears.

But all of that is in the past now, unfortunately, and as Joan Baez once sang, WE BOTH KNOW WHAT MEMORIES CAN BRING. THEY BRING DIAMONDS AND RUST

The nurse was early today and I was hardly prepared. He seems to be quite happy at the moment, which is no surprise seeing as he’s off on holiday on Saturday. He sorted me out quite quickly and was soon on his way. I could go into the kitchen and make breakfast, and while I was eating, I could read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Today, he’s managed to steer clear of controversy, although he’s off again on his jingoistic, pro-Christian, anti-“heathen” ranting and it’s quite wearisome. As I have said before, he has quite evidently missed the point and is confusing “art” with “architecture”. And as I have also said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … with architecture, you have to start somewhere, and it’s bound to be primitive. And again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then I looked at the next radio programme. This one will be interesting because it will fall on the United Nations Day of Cultural Diversity.

Most people think of rock music as being something uniquely “Anglo-Saxon”, from Germany, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, Ireland, the USA and the British “white” former colonies, but without even thinking too hard … "as usual" – ed … I can conjure up in my record collection easily a couple of dozen rock groups from outside that sphere, from places like Ukraine, Hungary, Greenland, South America, Central Africa and Asia, and plenty of other places besides, so I’m going to make a programme of rock music from these more obscure regions.

At midday, I knocked off to go to make myself ready for dialysis, and my cleaner turned up to apply the anaesthetic on my arm. After she left, I waited for my taxi and, surprisingly, fell asleep on the chair in the dining area. I was just setting off on a really interesting dream when the doorbell rang, and it wiped out every last memory of what had been going on, which was a shame.

The taxi was late, and there was another passenger on board. Her appointment was before mine, at the clinic on the other side of town, so of course it made more sense to drop her off first and then take me back to the dialysis centre, but it meant that I was running quite late. Nevertheless, when I arrived, I didn’t have to wait too long to be connected up, and we were off and running by 14:30.

Interestingly, and enjoyably, I was surrounded by no fewer than five beautiful girls at one point during the connection. I had a nurse, being shadowed by a new arrival who ended up doing the work to connect me, under supervision, and I do have to say that they were two of the most painless punctures that I have ever had, and the third nurse who always comes along to assist whenever I’m there. On top of that, one of the doctors came to see me to sort out a few things with me, followed shortly afterwards by Emilie the Cute Consultant. All I was short of was a nurse sitting on the end of the bed tossing grapes into my mouth, and maybe another one doing the Dance of the Seven Veils by my bed.

Once they had left me alone, there was football on the Internet. Last night, Stranraer had been playing a friendly against Renfrew of the Western Scotland League so I watched the game. There’s a lot of good football played in the Scottish non-league pyramid, mainly because it’s very regionalised and many good players in Scotland can’t commit to the travelling involved in the professional game. Stranraer won 2-1, but Renfrew certainly gave them a good game and you won’t see many better goals than the one that they scored.

Apart from the odd other interruption here and there, I was left pretty much alone until it was time to disconnect me, and that was done quite quickly too. It looked as if at one stage I might be home early, but I had to wait fifteen minutes for the taxi to arrive.

There was, once again, another passenger on board who wanted dropping off in Donville les Bains so it ended up not being as early as I would have liked. However, my faithful cleaner was waiting for me and helped me back into the apartment.

She gave me a disgusting drink and then left me to it. When I’d finished, I came back in here to begin to write my notes. But feeling just a little hungry, I went back into the kitchen and loaded my little push-along trolley with some crackers, some vegan cream cheese and a few slices of a honey spice cake to make myself a delicious snack.

While I was eating, I was reviewing my order for Leclerc. As I said yesterday, I’m not eating much these days, but nevertheless, I’m still running low on certain things, and as well as that, there’s a sale on their vegan products and it will do no harm at all to stock up the freezer with a few things for the future whenever I regain my appetite.

And as well as that, they have bottles of one and a half litres of clementine juice on sale at a ridiculous price and I can drink that all day.

So anyway, now that I’m satisfied with that, I’ll carry on writing my notes for today. But before I do, I’ll just have a big stretch, a little relax and a …

"ZZZZZZ"

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about picnics … "well, one of us has" – ed … a group of guys from college decided to go on a picnic by the river. It was so nice that they decided to go for a swim but, having no swimming trunks, they decided to go skinny-dipping.
Just as they were about to dive in, a boat-load of girls from the college came past, so most of the guys covered up their privates, except for one, who put a cover over his head.
"Why did you do that?" one of the others asked him.
"Well, I don’t know about you lot," he replied "but around the college, I’m known by my face."

0

Wednesday 1st July 2026 – IT WAS A …

… somewhat better day today. Mind you, after yesterday, almost anything would be a “somewhat better day”.

Not that the night was anything to go by. Despite every attempt that I made to go to bed early, it was as late as 23:15 when I finally crawled into my nice, clean interplanetary bed. And although I went to sleep quite quickly, it was another one of those nights where I was never sure whether I was awake or asleep. I’ve had a few of those just recently.

There was certainly a strong wind gusting at times and the shutters and the open window in here were moving around somewhat at times.

So I was drifting in and out of sleep, I suppose, never quite sure of where the boundary between the two lay, but one thing that I do know is that when the alarm went off at 06:29 as usual, I was fast asleep.

It was a better start today than yesterday in that I did manage to make it to my feet, which was more than yesterday. And when I’d finally managed to find the energy, the enthusiasm and the morale to move, I headed off into the bathroom to sort myself out and to dress.

Back in here, first job as usual was to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was some big meeting going on and I was there. I’d decided previously that that particular day was going to be the last day that I was going to go to work. I couldn’t remember if I’d handed in my notice, but I was determined that I was going to leave at the end of that particular afternoon. So I was at this meeting and there was a big crowd there who were all hemmed in. It turned out that the person there on my right and the person on my left were working for a big coach company. One of them noticed me and asked me if I worked at Shearings. I told them that I did and we chatted a bit. Then I took one of my business cards out and wrote on the back my name and ‘phone number and that I had a PSV licence and an operator’s licence and that I could speak French, Flemish and a little German and that I was experienced driving coaches on the Continent. I handed the card to one of them, and they replied that they would definitely be in touch and put the card away somewhere. But I was spending more time worrying about this job – whether I had handed in my notice, whether I ought to leave that evening or stay on another month, or something like that, I don’t know, because no-one seemed to be in the least bit interested in the fact that I was going to leave, so I can’t think that I handed in my notice. That would be pretty dismal if I hadn’t.

This is a recurring dream, isn’t it? I’m overdue to retire, so am I going to leave or am I going to stay on for longer? I can’t remember how many times I’ve had this same dream but I bet that it’s well over twenty.

As for going back on the coaches, I wouldn’t do it now, even if I wanted to. My reactions have slowed down a lot since those days and I don’t really think that I’d be safe on the roads today. I’m content to go around in a taxi, even if it is only to dialysis and back.

The nurse was early yet again. He didn’t have much of any importance to say for himself and it didn’t take long for him to sort out my legs and feet.

After he’d gone, I could make breakfast, and while I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Today’s outrageous comments include "The outward resemblance which the religion of Buddha — ” a diabolic mimicry of Christianity” as Frederick Schlegel expresses it, bears to some of the doctrines and ceremonies of the true faith, (rendering it thereby a more thoroughly hostile system than any other false worship", totally failing to understand that Buddhism has been around since more than 600 years before Christianity, so if anything is a parody of anything else, it’s Christianity that’s the mimicry, not Buddhism.

He goes on later to say "All these structures, Chinese and Siamese, show a very low state of real art. Mere rudeness in execution is a necessary stage in its development among any nation, and does not exclude majesty of proportion, or even a kind of beauty ; but we here see a manifest attempt at architectural splendour, without any perception of beauty whatever, but with a taste thoroughly depraved alike in composition, detail, and decoration. Real art is sacrificed to gaudy frippery, and, in China at least, fixed laws have for ever bound down every effort of genius, so that no improvement or development can be looked for."

What I am going to say next may sound strange to some, but I understood that I was reading a book about architecture, not about art. Architecture is much, much more than pretty designs carved into stone or woodwork. And beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Different peoples, different nations and different generations have different tastes and just because he and his generation in the UK find it “depraved” and “gaudy frippery”, that’s not to say that the people who built it did. They probably found it quite attractive.

And in any case, there is really no place whatever in any academic or semi-academic work for the kind of polemic that he is churning out.

Back in here, I had things to do, but not before I … errr … had a little “relax” for forty-five minutes. I’ll catch up on my missing sleep somehow.

Once everything was out of the way and I’d organised my disgusting drink and midday medication, I made a start on writing the notes for the next radio programme. It was a slow, awkward afternoon at first, but gradually it improved until right at the end, I was racing through it.

By the time that I was finished, though, I was exhausted and that called for another little … errr … relax, which took me almost up to 17:00.

It took me a while to return to the Land of the Living, but once I was back there, I went and prepared an order for Leclerc. Despite the fact that I’m not eating much right now, I’m still running low on certain supplies and I need to stock up.

And for a change, I made some food tonight. I was going to make myself some pie and mash, but when I opened the freezer for the pie, there was one of those frozen portions of spicy stuff that my friend had made one evening. And so pasta, veg and frozen spicy stuff in tomato sauce it was.

There wasn’t much, but even so, I struggled to finish it. And after the washing-up, I came back in here to finish off my notes.

Now that they are done, I’ll post them online, do what else needs doing, and then go to bed, ready for dialysis … "I don’t think" – ed … tomorrow. I wish that there was an alternative to this, but they’ve only given me one so far, which is to die. That’s not very encouraging.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about dying … "well, one of us has" – ed … I remember being ill in bed and Nerina was making some gorgeouus muffins with real chocolate chips in them.
While they were cooling, the smell was overpoweringly wonderful, so when she came in, I asked her "could I have one of those muffins?"
"No, you can’t" she replied.
"Why not?" I asked.
"I’m making them for after the funeral."

0

Monday 8th June 2026 – I’M COMPLETELY FED UP …

… with all of this. Who in their right minds would put two experienced nurses of a good length of service into a ward with just six people and two inexperienced nurses (one who started here on 1st January and the other on 1st May) together in a ward full of eight people?

And guess where I was!

It totally defies description that the staffing organisation in a place like this could be so totally chaotic. I really felt sorry for the two girls being so snowed under like this. It’s true that the two experienced nurses came into our ward near the end and helped them tidy up, but by then, it was far too late to do any good.

Just like last night, really. By the time that I climbed into bed, it was too late for me to have the kind of sleep that would do any good, especially after the early morning on Sunday.

However, I’d only been in bed for five minutes when I began to dream about some home improvements I wanted to do. There was someone, a British guy, doing some work on a place up the road so I went to see him about coming along to do some work for me. He didn’t say very much, but after a while, what he said was that he would give me some of his tools to carry down to my house so that they were there when he came. He gave me what looked like an enormous professional mastic gun that ran off the mains and was on two wheels, and somehow, I had to take this home. He unplugged the machine from the wall and then we came to a huge cable drum with three or four different cables on it that you wound in. It was divided into four or so compartments. He had the white power lead, and there was a splitter in the middle of it, so he unplugged the lead that was in the splitter and worked his way round, winding this cable off the cable drum until eventually they were both free. But there was a box in the middle of this white cable so he opened it up and took a battery out. It looked like a PP3 to me, so I asked him what sort of battery it was, and he replied that it was a PP2, which was one that I hadn’t heard of. I didn’t say anything – I just took the cable as best as I could and there was no battery in that box now so I had to find a PP2 battery from somewhere to make it work, and I was making myself ready to push it on down to my house.

This must be something to do with the guy who rang me on Sunday. He was telling me about all of the improvements that he had made to his property.

The battery issue presumably relates to my friend who was just here for a while. “Batteries” was quite a topic of discussion.

At that point, I awoke dramatically, but only for a moment and I was soon back to sleep.

The next time that I awoke, the day was just starting to dawn. But even though I was contemplating leaving the bed at one point, I must have gone quickly back to sleep because when the alarm went off, it awoke me.

Once I was dressed, I slid over to the computer and began to start work. The first task was to see where I’d been during the night.

Seren made another appearance last night. We were in North Africa, somewhere in a desert condition where there was a town. For some reason, we were walking around on the edge of town and I noticed that these cars were driving along this straight road but suddenly moved to the left and back to the right again, so we went over to find out why. There was no apparent reason except for a hollow in the ground, so Seren began to dig in this hole and she came upon a metal box. She picked up the metal box and we went back to our hotel. We couldn’t open the box, but it looked quite old so we rang a local museum, which came to look at it. They took it away and gave us a receipt. It turned out that it was a treasure from some sheikh from some hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago. They offered her 100,000 dirhams for it, but she said that maybe it might be worth a bit more if they looked more at it. In the end, she settled for 900,000 dirhams.

This dream relates to the guided tour that I was giving around Chester the other day and the story of the Roman amphitheatre that had my visitors so enthralled.

And by the way, 900,000 Moroccan dirhams is worth about €85,000 and never mind the treasure – I would sell my own grandmother for that amount of folding stuff.

For some reason, we were living in a three-bedroom detached house with an integral garage, quite modern. And with the story of this treasure, I had to take it to the museum but Seren was ill. But we moved suddenly in this dream to a hotel that also had an integral one-car garage so I left Seren in there with instructions not to open the door to anyone. If she needed anything, ask the receptionist in the hotel, and I went off. It wasn’t to the museum, it was to the police and they wanted to know more about finding this box. They said that a group of criminals was eager to lay their hands on it. He showed me a photo of the man who was said to be their ringleader. I recognised him immediately as someone who had seen us dig it up, so he sent orders out to someone to do something. He then switched back to French and said that it’s quite possible that this box is going to end up being more valuable than I might think. So I left there and went back to the hotel to find that Seren had gone. At that point, I had a ‘phone call saying that it’s one million dirhams to have her back. And then the ‘phone was cut.

Yes, I’ve given those kinds of instructions out to some people before. And the house was just like a house that Nerina and I once saw with a view to buying if only we could have sold ours quickly.

But this dream is starting to sound too much like the plot to CARRY ON SPYING for my liking.

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

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

What made me go to the police was that there was a message on this box inscribed in runes. And whilst I can read some runes, I can’t read the rest but I did know that the Norse never came this far south so I assumed that it had been stolen from somewhere and brought and hidden in the desert.

And this part relates to the book that I’m reading right now. They’ve discovered a spearhead and when they x-rayed it, they saw a mark on it that, to some, resembled a rune and to others, no, it didn’t.

At some point, a man and a few of his sidekicks turned up. They asked me how I could live with the recent election results but not live without Seren. It suddenly became clear what was going on. This man was a Bedouin and all the time that he was talking to me, he was combing his hair. And then, when he had finished, he sent one of his sidekicks off to fetch him another comb. He had really thick bushy hair and a bushy moustache and beard but I hadn’t seen him before.

The beard and moustache remind me of my friend, but my caller was much more like the Fat Man in the above-mentioned film.

So, not just going back into the same dream once more, but three times more. Is this a record for stepping back into dreams?

And did I succeed in rescuing Seren? Tune in next time, people, same time, same place.

The nurse turned up as usual, even more cheerful than yesterday. Still, he’s off on his week’s break tonight and it’s Isabelle the Nurse starting tomorrow. He was in chat mode, talking about the commerces in Granville. After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of Vera Evison’s book AN ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERY AT HOLBOROUGH, KENT while I was eating.

And I had to laugh, although I know that I shouldn’t. Someone broke into their workshed and stole some tools and a couple of artefacts. She was quite indignant, but what is she doing in the graves that they are exposing? A well-known phrase involving a pot and a kettle springs to my mind.

Back in here, I carried on adding products to MY AMAZON STORE for a while. And then I went to make myself look pretty for Emilie the Cute Consultant.

My faithful cleaner sorted out my anaesthetic, and then, the taxi was early for me. And believe it or not, it was a Mercedes-Benz. Apparently, my taxi company had taken over this one at the start of the month, and it’s a bit more upmarket than what we are used to.

It was pouring with rain outside and I had to find my raincoat.

Our driver had to go via Sartilly to pick up our usual Monday partner, and then we set off for the dialysis centre.

The driver threw me out at 13:35 and due to the chaos in our room, I wasn’t plugged in until exactly an hour later as the two girls struggled against the odds. And when they did, it hurt like hell and it’s still hurting now.

Once I was up and running, I was able to do some work until the doctor on duty came to see me. No prizes for guessing who. That’s right, Emilie the Cute Consultant. She asked me how I was, and I told her that the pain in my foot had started up again, and in spades too. So she wrote a prescription basically telling me to double the dose of the painkillers.

That was exactly what I was afraid of, right at the very beginning, but it’s too late to back out now. At least, she was cheerful and smiling about it.

At the end of the session, we had exactly the reverse procedure, and so although I’d finished at 18:05, it was 17:55 when I returned home. At least the driver was waiting for me, and he’d been waiting quite a bit too.

There was a howling gale outside now, so he dropped me off at the back of the building where my faithful cleaner was waiting. She helped me in and settled me down.

After she left, I had the half-pizza from Sunday, and now, late as it may be, I’m off to bed. Welsh in the morning so I want to be on form.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about being in the desert … "well, one of us has" – ed … I told a friend that I’d once taken Nerina to the North African desert.
"And what happened?" he asked
"I came back with nine camels and fifteen goats."

0

Saturday 6th June 2026 – IT’S THE ANNIVERSARY …

… of D-Day today, so everyone in Normandy seems to be out celebrating somewhere and many anciens combattants are roaming the streets dressed in their old uniforms, medals and all.

As for me, I’ve not set foot outside the building today. Not because I’m not going to celebrate the day and not because I’m too lazy to go outside either, but there’s yet another howling gale blowing outside, and it would blow me over before I’ve even gone five yards.

How many gales have there been that we’ve had so far this year? I don’t think that I’ve ever experienced six months like this in all the time that I’ve lived here.

Last night, it was blowing a gale when I went to bed. It was early too, round about 22:30 when I slid under the covers. And although I awoke once or twice just as it was beginning to become light, I was still fast asleep when the alarm went off at 06:29.

There was no sound or sign of life from next door, which was not a surprise seeing as there was no-one there – they are both on their way home – but anyway, I dressed and slid over to the computer to begin work.

First task was to transcribe the dictaphone notes to find out where I’d been during the night.

I’d gone to a kind of dance last night in a big village hall and there were thousands of people there and we were all dancing. I found myself partnering this girl or young woman who was one of these dynamic exhibitionist types and was really not my particular kind of girl. She was very exhuberant and always took the front at dances if she could. I was still in mourning for two of my partners whom I’d recently buried. On one occasion we were dancing around and I somehow became the owner of an accordion because there was someone giving away musical instruments as people danced past. She deeply regretted not having received anything so she asked me if I’d go to pick up a violin for her. But at that moment, there was a huge swell of people and they were all dancing around in front of where this giving out of musical instruments was so it was impossible for me to fight my way through and pick up something. Then she went to sit down on a chair that was in an inconvenient place in the middle of the dance floor. As she saw me approaching, she got off the chair and sat on the floor next to the chair, which I thought was a strange thing to do, because she didn’t seem to be the kind of person who would do that. So I had somewhere to sit and she had somewhere to sit. We stayed there chatting for quite a while. But at some point, there had been a Roxy Music song that involved climbing up and bringing a ladder down. A couple of people had climbed up and undone the ladders but were unable to bring them down, so I climbed right up and managed to bring them down with them resting on my shoulder. Then I began to lower them down behind me and there was someone at the bottom waiting to take hold of them as I approached. And it was all to do with something from a Roxy Music song, but I couldn’t think which one.

At one time, I did go to ballroom dancing, believe it or not. One of my brothers in law, long before he became my brother in law, thought that it would be a good place to go to meet some female company. He didn’t want to go alone so he asked me to go with him. And actually, it was me who found some female company in the shape of Ann, and we had a very pleasant few months together

But as for the exhuberant type of girl, that wouldn’t suit me at all. I couldn’t cope with that. And I don’t understand where Roy Music and the ladder fit in all of this.

There was another dream where we had a green MkII Cortina and at the very beginning this Cortina was jacked up on one side with the wheels off the road. But it moved on down to West Street in Crewe, and I telephoned Nerina to say that I’d had a problem with the car and could she meet me at the garage at the end of the road to sort it out? She muttered vaguely something and I thought that it was “yes” so I went to an old garage service station with a big concrete apron and asked him if I could borrow the apron for an hour. In the end we agreed on a fee of five pounds for that, which I thought was probably reasonable. At the back of this garage were all these old cars from the 1920s and 30s parked up there and abandoned. I was in my element looking at them. In the garden, he had some kind of plants, one that looked like an onion, but he told me that it was a chard. He asked me if I’d ever eaten chard and I replied, “no” so he went off into his workshop and came back with something that looked like a very large onion. He said “here – you have now”. I asked him how you ate it, and he replied “with tomatoes.” I went back to my car and waited for Nerina, and waited and waited, but she didn’t appear at all. In the end, I drove away and reckoned that I’d get home OK with this problem with the car.

Of all of the cars that have ever passed through my hands, I only ever had one MkII Cortina, and that was black. And Nerina would never not turn up if she had promised or if I needed her. She was extremely reliable.

The old cars would have been something that would have interested me greatly but I have never eaten chard. In the dream it was a pale white, round vegetable like a cross between an onion and a cabbage, but in real life, it’s only the leaves that you eat.

The nurse turned up as usual and expressed his dismay at the Hound of the Baskervilles not being there, and so did I. Anyway, he sorted out my legs and feet and then headed off on his rounds. I could get on with taking my medication, making breakfast and reading some more of RECENT EXCAVATIONS IN ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERIES by T C Lethbridge.

We’ve finished Burwell Cemetery, dashed through the cemetery at Little Wilbraham and now we’re on the analysis. Interestingly, he notes that "The Anglo-Saxons had so displaced the Romano-Britons that they could plant their few villages wherever they liked and often seemed to have chosen the areas which were most favoured by their predecessors" and "agriculture did not increase for years".

And for years, I’ve been talking about the ethnic cleansing of the Romano-British population by the Anglo-Saxons and no-one has listened to me, but here we are again with another archaeologist making observations that support my theory.

After breakfast, I came back in here and after a brief pause, I began to work, adding more and yet more to MY AMAZON STORE. It’s had a grand total of seven visits so far, so here’s hoping for a few more at some point and, even better, some purchases.

Roud about midday, I dozed off for forty-five minutes and when I awoke, I went for my disgusting drink and midday medication.

Back in here later, I carried on with the Amazon store and I finally found out how to add further lists to it. I now have three lists, but one of them needs to be changed because it was only a trial run to see if it worked.

While I was working, I was chatting to a couple of friends, one being the master of the Hound of the Baskervilles and the other one being an old friend from Shavington who now lives in Crewe, just gossiping about nothing in particular

Tea tonight was baked potato, a vegan salad and some of these spinach nuggets that I bought ages ago, followed by my medication, washed down with grape juice.

And now, hours late, I’m off to bed, hoping for a long lie-in and having my socks fitted while I’m in bed asleep. But something is bound to crop up to disturb my plans. It always does.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my friend from Crewe … "well, one of us has" – ed … he told me that the other night, he was stopped by the police while out driving at 02:00.
The policeman asked him "And where are you going at this time?"
My friend replied "“I’m going to a lecture on drinking and driving, smoking, and the effects alcohol has on the body."
The policeman then wanted to know "Who is giving a lecture at this time?"
My friend replied "That’ll be my wife."

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Friday 5th June 2026 – I AM ALL …

… alone this evening and for the next foreseeable future too. The Hound of the Baskervilles and his master have left and, even as we speak, they are in Caen on their slow and leisurely way home.

They haven’t left me totally alone, though. There’s a jacket hanging up on the hook on the front door and a box of fusilli and a box of milk capsules in the kitchen. And also probably one or two more things that I have yet to discover.

It’ll be strange for me to be alone after three weeks of genial company, but I shall cope one way or another. No more coffee shoved straight into my sweaty mitt when I go into the kitchen in the morning, though. I could quite easily become used to that

Anyway, last night, as you might have read, I was quite ill after dialysis and, having failed miserably to complete my notes, I ended up falling into bed. When I checked the time, I was amazed at how late it was. What on earth had I been going all that time?

Once in bed, I was asleep quite quickly and although I awoke at some point when day was just beginning to dawn, I was quickly back to sleep and there I stayed until the alarm went off at 06:29.

When the alarm went off, I was in a town called Vizemes. I don’t know what I was doing there because the dream had barely started when the alarm went off, and so that was that.

This is a shame because I would have loved to have known what was going on. And Vizemes doesn’t sound very South American to me

With no sound coming from next door, I found a few things to keep me occupied in here, but once I heard the rattle of coffee mugs, I made my way into the kitchen to sort out my medication while the coffee brewed.

The coffee that my friend makes is excellent and he can definitely come again to make it. But I sat down on my chair, having disposed of the medication, to drink and to chat.

Just after 08:00, the Hound of the Baskervilles decided to drag his master off for morning walkies. On leaving the building, they collided with the nurse coming in. He was extremely sad about the departure of the Hound of the Baskervilles and had hoped that he would stay a little longer. He dealt with my legs and feet, and we had quite a discussion about multiculturalism in families.

After he left, I made my breakfast, and while I was eating it, I was reading some more of RECENT EXCAVATIONS IN ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERIES by T C Lethbridge.

He has uncovered several quite obvious graves where there are no signs of human remains remaining. What are interesting, though, are some of the graves in which human remains have been found.

Apart from graves packed full of artefacts, of which there were more than one, Grave 64 has a skeleton of which "the skull … had two cuts, suggesting that death may have been due to blows from a sword."

Grave 80 "was beautifully cut and 3 feet 10 inches deep". He goes on to tell us that the skull was separated and apparently thrown in at the feet. "The skull, however, showed numerous signs of mutilation" and he goes on to describe them at great length, finishing by saying "the injuries suggest the wanton mutilation of a fallen foe."

If this is indeed "the wanton mutilation of a fallen foe.", why is he in the best grave?

Grave 104 is "a roughly-dug hole … containing portions of a female skeleton. The bones were not in sequence and many were missing … The bones must have been put in after the flesh was off them." So whatever had been going on here? It sounds completely gruesome and sounds far too close to cannibalism for comfort.

Actually, if cannibalism had occurred, it wouldn’t surprise me. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … life in early mediaeval times was brutal, and there was a very thin line between life and death. The failure of someone’s crops could be devastating, and there are numerous instances reported even in fairly modern times of peasants resorting to cannibalism to stay alive.

Just before I finished breakfast, the dynamic duo came back from walkies. I had a chat with my friend, and one of the things that we mentioned was the vehicle outside. I’m determined to keep on with this pseudo-fitness regime so I said that if ever this gale-force wind drops to something more reasonable, I wouldn’t mind going for a walk out there and back.

Back in here to carry on working, but about an hour or so later, “the wind has dropped to almost nothing” so I grabbed my crutches and headed for the door, followed by my friend and the Hound of the Baskervilles, not necessarily in that order.

Yesterday, my friend and my cleaner had been out there for some time while I was at dialysis, taking stuff out of it, and it was now so tidy that I had trouble recognising it. It seems that everyone works so much better when I’m not around. There are just a handful of things remaining that we can do bit by bit in due course.

After the inspection, and having made sure that the door still opens and the engine still starts, we headed back into the building, but not before the Hound of the Baskervilles’s auntie cleaner had come over and given her nephew a really good stroke, which he enjoyed enormously.

Back in here, I carried on for a while with adding more stock to MY AMAZON STORE but I began to feel cold and I started to tremble.

As well as that, I was fighting off wave after wave of fatigue, so much so that when my friend and his sidekick went to leave, I couldn’t even stand up and go to the door to see them safely on their way.

Once they had driven off, I did the only thing that I could. Having arranged an order to be delivered from LeClerc, I set the alarm to half an hour beforehand and climbed into bed fully clothed. Even down to my shoes, as I found out later.

My cleaner turned up to do her stuff at some point. I was still asleep under the covers as usual but she asked me if I was ill. I mumbled something and went straight back to sleep again.

When I was asleep this afternoon, Noah Edwards, the former Connah’s Quay midfielder who has just signed for Caernarfon, put in an appearance. He was there with two small children, but what happened after that, I don’t know, because once again, the alarm went off.

Another shame that I’d missed that dream because of the alarm, and for some reason, it took an age to switch the alarm off. For some reason, the phone wasn’t reading my fingerprint under the covers.

Eventually it stopped, and I raised myself from the Dead, to find my cleaner still here in the middle of a major tidying-up effort. She passed me a disgusting drink and my midday medication, now hours late.

For some reason, we ended up discussing the Beaune Coach Crash of 1982, a collision between three coaches and two cars on the A6 near Beaune. Two of the coaches were taking kids to a summer camp, and forty-six kids and eight adults were burnt to death when the petrol tanks of the two cars wedged in the middle of the chaos exploded. There were no survivors in the cars.

At that time, my cleaner was a monitor at a summer camp, and she was telling me the dreadful scenes that followed when they tried to persuade the kids there to board coaches to go home after their stay. Some kids they had to physically carry on board, and she said that she would never ever forget it. It’s scarred her to this day.

LeClerc turned up on time with the order, and I made sure that my friend would come back another time because amongst the goods that were in the delivery were twelve cans of his favourite beer. It was on special offer, three for the price of two, so why not?

We put the frozen food away quickly, and after my cleaner left, I put the rest of it away, including the McVitie’s digestive biscuits that they also had on offer too. I shall treat myself one of these nights.

Back in here, I found a few more things to do but at 19:00, I knocked off and went for tea. There was some of that Chinese stir-fry and rice left over from last night and so that was my choice this evening. It’ll make more room in the fridge for the stuff that I’ve bought.

So now, having finished my notes, I’m off to bed, even if I did have two and a half hours under the covers just now. This time, though, I’ll change into my jammies and even take off my shoes. And here’s hoping that the pain in my foot, which has been haunting me all yesterday afternoon and all day today, will eventually die down to nothing. I’ve no idea why it should suddenly flare up like this after a few weeks of going into hiding.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about cannibalism … "well, one of us has" – ed … on a well-known quiz show, one of the contestants was asked "what do you call people who eat other people."
"I don’t know" replied the contestant.
"Ohh, surely you can tell me the answer to that question" urged the quizmaster
"Can I b*lls!" replied the contestant.
"Ohh, well done!" exclaimed the quizmaster.

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Thursday 4th June 2026 – THEY’VE DONE IT …

… again!

When we go to dialysis, we’re put into beds, where we stay throughout the session. What I do is to tilt the head of the bed upright, grab hold of a side table and put my computer on it so that I can work.

Sometimes, though, I have a little … errr … relax and close my eyes for a few minutes. Today was no exception, and at one point, I drifted off into a nice little snooze.

But then, one of the nurses came by. "Mr Hall! Mr Hall! You can’t possibly sleep like that" she said, waking me up from being asleep. Dropping the head of the bed down to horizontal, she said "there! You can sleep much better like that!"

But, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, once I’m awake, I’m awake. And so that was that. Why can’t these people leave me alone?

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, It was later than I wanted it to be when I finally went to bed, but I eventually slid under the quilt and went to sleep.

But not for long, though. At about 01:10, I awoke for the obvious reasons that anyone of my age will know, and so in the darkness, I went to stroll the parapet. Back in bed, I was soon asleep and there I stayed until the alarm went off at 06:29.

When the second alarm went off, I was sitting on the edge of the bed, already half-dressed. There was no noise from next door so I went and attacked the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night … "apart from walking the parapet" – ed …

Seren was living with me and Nerina was coming around as usual, only a bit more often because she had started to adapt to the idea of Seren being in the family. Seren went on another school adventure to somewhere where there were sixty-two beds. This was the site of a couple of murders and where the author came to find inspiration for her books. Other kids come here every week for a week for five days to be a bit more independent and be able to look after their own things, sort out the things for demolition and make sure that they are taken away. But it’s around about this moment that ……… She’s quite happy to chat a little about it rather than go on the defensive and hide.

First of all, you’ll have to excuse the row of dots near the end of the above. This dream began to recount a very personal story concerning someone, and I’m sure that if she were here, she would certainly not want it broadcasting around the whole World. It’s not my usual fashion to censor any of my dreams, except where they are far too gruesome to publish, but in this case, I’m afraid that I’ll have to make an exception.

But hello, Nerina, welcome back. And as for who Seren might be … "Seren means ‘star’ in Welsh and it’s a very popular girls’ name in north-west Wales" – ed … I shall leave it to your own fertile imaginations to figure it out. Answers, please, on a postcard to …

So when Seren goes back a second time, the people sitting with Nerina had changed and there were two government officials instead of two friends so Seren thinks that she had better be on her best behaviour and try to behave a little more maturely.

By the looks of things, I stepped back into the previous dream, but I seem to have missed a chunk out of the middle. That’s a shame, because I would have loved to have seen this dream unfolding. However, it’s given me an idea for a cunning plan.

As I finished and was looking around for some more work, I heard the rattling of coffee cups next door, so, thinking that this might be coffee time, I went into the kitchen. Sure enough, the coffee was ready so I poured out two mugs and after I’d passed one to my friend, I went to find my medication.

While we were drinking, we were chatting about all kinds of historical memories from the past around Crewe and Nantwich, reliving old times. We were interrupted by the arrival of the nurse and, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the Hound of the Baskervilles didn’t even bat an eyelid at his arrival. However, he did come over for a handful of strokes.

After the nurse had gone, I made breakfast and then while I was eating, I was reading some more of RECENT EXCAVATIONS IN ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERIES by T C Lethbridge.

Today, we left Hollywell Row and are now in our second cemetery, at Burwell in Cambridgeshire. The graves here are a century or so more recent, and Lethbridge speculates from the artefacts present that the graves contain early Christian burials.

Furthermore, he tells us that “an ancient church is known to have stood against the site” of the cemetery. Strangely, in most documents about the town that I have read, there’s no mention of the ancient church or the cemetery. It seems that everyone has missed Lethbridge’s book when they were drawing up the details for the websites and publications, so that I hope that one day, someone will read my blog and pick up the details.

Who knows? I might become a source once more for an artificial intelligence website search. That’s twice so far already that artificial intelligence has quoted me as a source of information.

After breakfast, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies. I had a good wash, shave and scrub up in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon. Then I came in here and added some more music, videos and books to MY AMAZON STORE. It’s free to me, I earn a small commission off the products that are sold from it, so what more do I need? … "How about some customers?" – ed …

Eventually, it was time to prepare myself for dialysis. and as daddy had gone out for lunch in the foyer des jeunes travailleurs, I had to look after the Hound of the Baskervilles. However, I was soon relieved of my duty when his Auntie Cleaner turned up to apply my anaesthetic.

Once she had done her stuff, she gave the Hound of the Baskervilles another good stroke and then wandered off on her rounds, and I waited for the taxi.

For a change, it was early today, but it almost wasn’t when the chauffeur went bounding off upstairs to the old apartment and we had to call him back down. Surprisingly, it took less effort than usual to walk to the car so I don’t know what’s happened. It must be the obstacle course to the car park that’s doing this.

There was someone else in the car too, but I was the first to be dropped off at Avranches – much earlier than normal. But I still had to wait half an hour before I was connected and up and running. There was a lot of weight to shift today, so I reckoned that I was going to be in for four hours of agony by the end.

And I was right. One of the connections began to hurt, and then the pain in my foot started up again (and it’s still going on). And then we had this pantomime about the bed and sleeping. I was glad when the session was over.

The driver was there, already waiting, so we were able to set off quite quickly, but I was absolutely exhausted by this time. When we arrived at home, there was a really fierce wind so the driver dropped me off at the back of the building right outside the fire escape door, where my faithful cleaner was waiting for me.

She helped me inside, where I was greeted by the Hound of the Baskervilles and my friend, who had made a Chinese stir-fry with rice. And delicious it was too.

Back in here, I had things to do and then I began to write my notes. But by now, the effects of dialysis had caught up with me properly and I slowly found myself falling asleep. After several attempts to keep on going, in the end, I gave it up as a bad job and staggered off to bed. I’ll finish these notes in the morning

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about churches … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone went into a church and asked the vicar "how much does it cost to borrow a group of church singers?"
"You mean a choir?" asked the vicar.
"All right, vicar, have it your way" said the man. "How much does it cost to acquire a group of church singers?"

0

Tuesday 2nd June 2026 – AS I HAVE …

… said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … it’s pointless going to bed early, because all it means is that I wake up correspondingly early the following day.

And so no-one should be surprised to learn that at 05:50 this morning, I was sitting at my desk working.

Mind you, there was a reason behind it all, as you will find out for yourself if you read on a little further.

But last night, as some of you may have realised if you logged on early, I was simply overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with pain, overwhelmed with discomfort, overwhelmed with everything. In the end, I abandoned my notes and went to bed.

It didn’t take much rocking last night either, and I was soon asleep. But not for long. Round about 03:00 we had one of the fiercest storms that I have known since I’ve been here, and we have had a few.

This storm was wicked. It was lashing down with rain and the howling winds at probably over one hundred kilometres per hour were making mincemeat of the car park. No-one could sleep through this racket.

Round about 04:30, it all calmed down, only to spring up again from a different direction. This was full on to the front of the house and it was so powerful that it blew my windows open. I had to climb out of bed to close them.

After sitting on the bed for fifteen minutes thinking, that was when I decided that there was no point in staying in bed. Instead, I dressed … "at a very leisurely pace" – ed … and began work.

First task was to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

This is another dream that I seem to have forgotten from during the night. I know that I was in it, and there was something about bottling something or putting things in jars and putting them on one side. Out of the stuff that we had made, there were four of these huge flip-top bottles and two ordinary ones. They had to be taken away, stocked and generally looked after. This is where it was all confusing, with us putting them into the van to take them away. There was a lot more to it than this. There were scenes when I was in bed, another scene where I was sulking and the tied cottage that we had, and I wish that I could write more about it.

This is another dream that I would have loved to finish. You can’t leave me on a cliffhanger like this

I went to a rock concert with a friend of mine and one or two of this friend. This was a friend whom I’d had for years and for some reason, he was extremely depressed, something that affected him quite often in the past. It was really going on late, this concert, and at the end of it, the three of us left. My friend turned to me and said “I don’t think that I’ll be having any more Cortinas again. I asked him “why not” and in the end, he explained that in his opinion, they were far out of date now and he needed a new, modern car to keep up and all that stuff. As we walked into town, he made it perfectly clear that he and his friend were going off in one direction and I should go off in the other. It was a cold, rainy thing but I started to walk away. I noticed that it was getting light and the birds were singing. At that moment, I went into Boots the Chemist and wandered around looking at the products for a while. I really wanted some deodorant but instead, I bought a packet of tomatoes and a huge packet of crisps. I paid for them at the checkout, which was quite funny because the cashier lost my bag of tomatoes somewhere on my conveyor belt

There is a story about this going back to about 1974 when I was “sent off” from a pub crawl, but that’s another one that the World is not yet ready to hear.

However, I did have a friend who once was so overwhelmed at work that he took a holiday not knowing where he was going and ended up being lost. And the incident at Boots at Crewe – the interior is very suggestive of a dream I had a couple of weeks ago of a shopping mall in Montréal, but the outside was definitely the Crewe British Home Stores.

When the nurse came, the Hound of the Baskervilles didn’t even lift an eyelid, never mind barking at him. He allowed the nurse to stroke him and then the nurse turned his attention to me. He didn’t actually stroke me but massaged my feet and legs with the cream and put my elastic compression socks on my feet.

Then, after another stroke of the beast, he cleared off on the rest of his rounds and I could make my breakfast.

The next book on the list is RECENT EXCAVATIONS IN ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERIES by T C Lethbridge, an author whom we have encountered before.

He starts off his book by saying "this work is nothing more than a report on certain excavations, and as such, follows the modern pattern of being as colourless as possible. In the last century, a similar work would have included musings on the brevity of life, scraps of poetry and various other frills. Now, archaeology has become so stern a subject that I have not even dared to describe our feelings when a skull at Hollywell Row began to walk away with a young rabbit inside it."

He goes on to add "most readers would surely prefer the older method" and he’s not wrong there, because I know what I would, except when the author goes berserk with his remarks.

Lethbridge also makes the remark that "it would seem probable that male skeletons without weapons in this cemetery and others of the pagan period are those of slaves". Slavery was quite common in those days. These slaves were usually captured in battle or criminal slaves doing penance for their crimes, and, believe it or not, some people actually gave themselves voluntarily into slavery.

That latter phrase is certainly true, whether modern people like to admit it or not. But the life of a peasant in early Mediaeval times was a struggle between life and death, with not much margin between the two. But if your crops failed and your wife and children were starving, what options did you have? The duty of a lord was to feed, clothe and house his slaves, and it was better than starving to death. And let’s face it – the life of an early mediaeval peasant was not much more than that anyway.

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

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

At this point, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies and I came in here to go through my Welsh, ready for the lesson. And while I was breakfasting, our tutor had sent us by e-mail a huge pile of work that we were going to be doing during our lesson. I had less than an hour to go through it and that was rather unfair.

The lesson itself passed really well, although one or two of my classmates laughed when I told them about my Welsh-speaking artificial intelligence character. I still think, though, that it’s an excellent idea for someone who is isolated from the mainstream.

Next on the list was my cleaner, who breezed in to do her stuff and to shoo me into the shower. When I came out, I found that I had a nice, clean bed with nice, clean bedding. And so there will be a nice, clean me inside it tonight … "well, clean, anyway" – ed …

While I’d been at my Welsh class, the new battery had arrived and my friend had taken it out to the vehicle. He’d managed to couple it up and when he turned the key to make sure that there was a current passing through to the ignition circuit, the vehicle fired up as if it hadn’t ever been left unattended.

So after I’d come out of the shower and sorted myself out, we went over there for a triumphant drive around the car park.

However, our plans were blighted. The handbrake has seized, with the callipers stuck to the brake discs. That’s a nuisance. So near and yet so far. It seems that every step we take to advance, a new problem comes along to stifle us.

Not everybody agreed with this, of course. We’d attached the Hound of the Baskervilles to a lamppost behind the bus shelter, and when we looked around, we found that there were two schoolgirls making a big fuss of him and he was enjoying every minute of it. The girls told my friend that they thought that he was “magnifique”.

Back in here, I cleaned myself up and began to make the dough for tonight’s pizza. We’d missed out on a pizza on Sunday and I can’t possibly go two weeks without one. And while I was cooking, we were chatting about an electrical company and its website, and I was having a lengthy conversation online with an old schoolfriend from my Shavington days. It’s nice to catch up with friends from years ago.

One of the subjects that we were discussing online was “The Dockers’ Umbrella” – the Liverpool Overhead Railway that ran close to the docks from the latter part of the nineteenth century to December 1956 and so nicknamed because it allegedly sheltered the dock workers from the rain as they went to work.

The pizza tonight was acclaimed by my friend as “the best you have ever made”, and who can argue with that? He did also mention that “you look really tired tonight” and that will be the subject of later discussion.

Back in here afterwards, I had a few things to do, and then I started on my notes. However, after about five minutes, I fell asleep at my desk. When I awoke, I carried on and then fell asleep again. I lost count of how many times I fell asleep whilst trying to bring my notes up-to-date, and in the end, I gave it up as a bad job and hit the hay. There’s always another time to finish them off.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about that electrical website … "well, one of us has" – ed … I told my friend from Shavington that part of the menu on the site was “watch batteries”.
He asked "and what about it?"
I replied "we were there for half an hour looking at them but they didn’t seem to be doing anything."

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Wednesday 13th May 2026 – AND THERE I …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So there we go again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Thursday 12th March 2026 – TONIGHT’S TEA …

… wasn’t as nice as some have been just recently. And I’ve no idea why that might be, because it’s a tea to which I’ve been looking forward for over a week.

Something else to which I’ve been looking forward since Monday morning was a good night’s sleep, but one again, I was thwarted in my ambitions.

Last night’s tea, nice as it was, took so long to prepare, eat and clean up that I ended up running hours late. In fact, I didn’t go to bed until about 23:45 and I need much more beauty sleep than that, especially as I’d been awake so early in the morning.

To go from bad to worse, it was another turbulent night and I felt as if I hadn’t gone to sleep at all. When the alarm went off at 06:29, I was dead to the World and it took me an age to summon up the energy and the courage to head for the bathroom.

Even though Emilie the Cute Consultant doesn’t love me any more, I still had a shave. I might as well go through the motions, even if I don’t feel like it and they are of no earthly purpose.

In the kitchen, I made my hot lemon, ginger and honey drink to go with my medication and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out what had gone on during the night. And that was a disappointment too.

It was round about 03:30 when I definitely heard someone shout “aren’t you getting up yet?”. I wondered what time it was, and looked at the clock. It was 03:30 so I don’t know who it was who had awoken me.

When I looked at the timestamp of the soundfile, it showed 03:31, so this dream obviously had some basis in fact somewhere. But that’s a few times now when I’ve either heard a phantom alarm or heard someone shout out during a dream.

There was also something about the bandage and plasters after dialysis but I can’t remember too much about that. In fact, I can’t remember anything really other than the bandage and the plasters.

And this kind of dream makes me wish that there was much more to it than that which I recorded. Or else, it’s my subconscious stopping me from going too far into “what happened next”.

The nurse came along to sort out my legs and feet, and today he remembered to put the things back into the drawer and to close it. I’m glad about that because I shall rapidly lose patience if he doesn’t tidy up after himself. It’s bad enough that I don’t.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A Miller.

Today, we’re reviewing the position in the Ionian Islands. At the moment, the Venetians are clinging on to a precarious foothold as the Ottomans slowly surround them and hem them in. We’ve already had a few important raids, and I suspect that there are many more to come.

Back in here, I had a few things to do, and then I turned my attention to the radio programme that I started yesterday. All of the music is now paired and segued, and quite a lot of the notes have been written. I can finish this off tomorrow morning, provided that my visitor doesn’t come too early.

My faithful cleaner turned up to apply my anaesthetic, and then I had to wait for my taxi to arrive.

And I was in luck. It was my favourite taxi driver and we had a lovely chat all the way down the coast to Carolles to pick up someone else and then another drive down the coast to Avranches.

Once again, I was early. It was 13:40 when I arrived, but it made no difference because I wasn’t connected up until 14:50. And then, they set the dry weight to what it had been two weeks ago and so there was almost nothing to take out. And they forgot the booster for the blood pressure. I don’t know what’s the matter with them these days.

But once I was connected, they left me pretty much alone. Even Emilie the Cute Consultant, who was the duty doctor today, kept to the far end of the room, well away from my clutches.

At least they didn’t hang around too long to unplug me, but it was still 18:50 when I climbed into the taxi to come home.

When I arrived here, I had to be dropped off at the rear of the building as there was a howling gale blowing up outside. My faithful cleaner helped me in, and believe me, I was glad to be home.

Tea tonight was a vegan burger with pasta and ratatouille, which I didn’t enjoy as much as I thought it might. The birthday cake and home-made ice cream were nice, though, but tomorrow will see the last slice of that disappear.

And right now, I’m going to disappear too because I’m off to bed. And to sleep, if the stabbing pain all down my foot will let me. Right now, it’s the worst that I’ve ever known.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my strange dream … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of an old Tommy Cooper story.
"I once knew a man who dreamed that he was awake" he said.
"And what happened?" asked someone in the audience
"Well, when he woke up, he was!"

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Thursday 12th February 2026 – IT WAS HARD …

… today at dialysis. For some reason, there was more liquid to drain off than usual and as a result, I suffered quite a lot, particularly towards the end.

Mind you, things have been building up to this for a while now. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I’ve not been feeling too well just recently, and while the last couple of days might have been better, it doesn’t take much to knock me back to the start again.

Last night, for example, I was on course for an early night and I actually worked quite hard to achieve it, but even so, it was just after 23:00 before my notes went online, and with everything else, it was after 23:30 when I finally went to bed. And it shouldn’t have been like that at all.

And despite the howling gale and torrential rainstorm that was going on outside, I managed to go to sleep quite quickly and I don’t believe that I moved a muscle until the alarm went off at 06:29.

Having been woken up by BILLY COTTON’S RAUCOUS RATTLE, it was another struggle to leave the bed and head off into the bathroom for a good wash and a shave. Mind you, I’ve given up all hope of any of the doctors coming to see me, but you have to go through the motions all the same.

In the kitchen, I made my hot drink and took my medication, and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

I was at work and it turned out that they were starting up a new group of people for something or other. The guy who was in charge decided that the person who was earmarked to do the job at first wouldn’t be able to cope so he nominated me to do it. I had to go to the office in Chester, and when I complained, they said “never mind. You’ll still be home in half an hour, won’t you?” which, of course, is nonsense. In the end, I arrived at Chester, relieved the guy who was doing this job and went into the office. There were two people there in bed, as if they were hospital patients. One of them was chatty enough and told me everything but the other one said nothing. I had to ask him directly if he was an Oxford United supporter. Then I made some remark about wondering how his treatment went. The girl who was my assistant asked him outright, but he didn’t reply to that either. I thought that I could see this being a really interesting and riveting group of which to be in charge.

So here I am, back at work again despite having been close to the retirement age in a considerable number of dreams. But I did work in Chester for two years between 1972 and 1974. I loved the city and would have been happy to return.

The hospital situation needs no explanation, but what’s all this about Oxford United?

The nurse was early again and he didn’t stay long at all. He had his big medical bag with him today so I suspect that he’s off on quite a few additional travels today.

It meant that I could make breakfast and read some more of Mortimer Wheeler’s MAIDEN CASTLE .

In fact, read all of it because it’s now finished. The final pages show a huge series of photographs that clearly show the hurried nature of the burials in the War Cemetery, and also a series of photos that show the massive nature of the work that he and his colleagues had carried out.

What they have done is phenomenal, and you would never ever believe the scale of the work that they undertook.

Back in here later, I had an important letter to write and then for the rest of the morning, I began to prepare for the next radio programme. I even managed to choose half of the music too. This is something else that I hope that I will finish tomorrow because I really need to have a weekend off.

My faithful cleaner turned up as usual to apply my anaesthetic, and then I had to await the taxi. The driver was early again today, but seeing as we had to go to Sartilly to pick up someone else, we weren’t all that early arriving.

My sooty food was put into the premises at about 13:50, but I had to wait until 14:25 before I was all plugged in and running. And after that, apart from the nurse asking me if I was OK and also the coffee coming round, I was left to my own devices.

As I said earlier, there was more liquid to be removed this time, so they wound up the machine a little. And by the time that I’d finished, the pain had come back in my foot, and as well as that, I was so exhausted that I crashed out for half an hour.

The taxi was waiting for me so we had a good drive back, listening to a podcast of THE HOBBIT

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

There are also links on the sidebar for AMAZON UK, AMAZON USA and, since the recent “troubles”, AMAZON CANADA for the use of my numerous Canadian visitors. As I said, I am extremely grateful when someone uses them to make a purchase

My cleaner helped me into the building and after she left, I warmed up the leftover soup from yesterday.

However, I couldn’t eat it all tonight, and another pile of food ended up in the bin. I was doing quite well with meals until then. It looks as if I’m having a relapse.

But anyway, I’ll worry about that tomorrow because right now, I’m off to bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the hobbit … "well, one of us has" – ed … I was telling a friend of mine that I’d given up reading Tolkien’s books just before going to bed.
"Why was that?" she asked. "Was it becoming too much of a bad hobbit?"
"Well" I replied, "it was certainly hobbit-forming".

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