Tag Archives: icknield way

Saturday 7th September 2024 – THE PLAN WAS …

… to sit back and do nothing whatever today.

And so of course, as you might expect, I have been quite busy and done quite a lot of stuff. But nothing really towards the huge backlog of stuff that’s been building up. That seems to be growing even bigger as I’m simply swept aside in a torrent of paperwork and the like.

What didn’t help matters very much was that I had another really late night last night. After falling asleep so completely during the afternoon I was quite wide awake during the evening and come bedtime I wasn’t tired enough to go to sleep.

Too tired though to haul myself off my comfortable chair and cross the couple of inches that separates chair from bed. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … it’s more exhaustion that I’m feeling than actual tiredness.

Nevertheless I did end up sorting myself out and at round about 00:30, long after the time at which I would have liked to have gone to bed, I finally hit the hay.

As seems to be the case these days I didn’t need much rocking. I was soon asleep and there I stayed until all of 04:30. After that, it was a miserable night of tossing and turning and trying to go back to sleep.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 it was close to Christmas. Some of our friends were visiting. We hadn’t prepared any Christmas cards and had no idea about what we were going to do about this. It was noticeable that our friends sent their children to the door first so they were obviously paving the way to see what kind of reception they’d receive. They’d receive a warm reception of course but they wouldn’t receive a Christmas card. That might upset them. When they finally turned up at the door she (…my friend’s wife…) said something like “is it any use us doing this?”. It was something like this that she said.

Right at that moment the alarm went off. When the room finished spinning around I hauled myself out of bed and crawled off to the bathroom.

In the bathroom I had a really good wash, a shave and of course I washed my shorts ready for tonight. I must at least make an effort to be clean and tidy, even if I don’t feel like it.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. For some reason there was a pile of clothing in one of my dreams too, a pile of clothing for a small girl probably about seven or eight years old. I have no idea why but there were some high-heeled shoes there of the type that had a small high heel that didn’t have any superstructure above the sole at the back to hold the shoe onto the heel at all. It was just held on the foot at the toe by a strap there. I don’t know where all this came from.

And neither do I either. I know that I’m likely to have some strange dreams every now and again but sometimes even I’m amazed at what I dream.

The next one is even more bizarre. For some reason I was identifying as a woman last night. I was playing for the Belgian national ladies’ volleyball team against a team from the Netherlands in a cup match that was taking place against the Netherlands. While we were waiting for the game to start I saw the crowds arriving. There was a bent little old woman leaning over a stick. I thought that I recognised her – it turned out to be my aunt from Ottawa. After the game she came over to chat. She asked about the performance. She thought that it was rather lethargic. I explained that that was hardly a surprise. This morning I had to get up really early to travel all the way here. I’d missed my breakfast. I’d normally come on the train as far as here all the way from Belgium but luckily this morning one of the other competitors and her friend brought me in their car.

Unfortunately this modern way of thinking is not for me, where you can self-identify as something completely different and expect everyone to adapt to you. Let’s face it – I self-identify as an intellectual who can write some really excellent prose and I wish that everyone would respect my choice and identify me accordingly. But some of the names that I have been called are not only unkind but completely disrespectful and I am offended. So there! As far as my writing goes, I can only echo the comments of the Reverend George Gilfillan of Dundee who, when commenting upon the works of another author 150 years ago, said "Shakespeare never wrote anything like this"

This was a series of dreams about a small girl. She reminded me a little of Percy Penguin, probably in her late teens or early twenties but she wasn’t very switched on. You had to explain even the simplest of tasks to her three or four times before you thought that she might have grasped it. Everything that she was doing was always a couple of tasks behind for example I remember telling her once to do something then telling her to do something else then telling her to do something else, but she came back with a problem about the first thing “yes, I’ve emptied the bath” which she should have emptied ten or fifteen minutes ago. It was very hard for anyone to look after her because she was so willing that she’d run around trying to do things and being too eager, she’d usually do them incorrectly or there would be a mistake where she’d forget something so all her work would have to be re-done. It was terribly frustrating because she was a lovely, keen, willing girl but she just could not grasp the same ideas that we had as quickly as we did.

“I remember telling her once to do something then telling her to do something else then telling her to do something else” – hark at me, barking out the orders. Who do I think I am? However, as we very well know, some people are like that and need to have orders barked at them if ever you wish to accomplish anything. Sometimes, organisation can be something of a thankless task.

The nurse came round as usual and he seemed much more like his old self – almost friendly in fact. However he asked if I had been down to the pharmacy to pick up the anaesthetic cream.

and so I asked him how he thought that I should have gone down there but he didn’t answer me. Instead, after much beating about the bush he asked me if I’d received the prescription.
"What prescription?"
"For the anaesthetic cream"
"I’ve not had any prescription"

It turns out that I should have had a prescription for the anaesthetic cream, I should have collected (or arranged to have it collected) it from the pharmacy and everything should be ready for the nurse to apply the cream because I start dialysis on Tuesday.

"No I don’t" I replied. "Apart from anything else, I told them right at the beginning that I’m not free on Tuesdays"

Then we had the usual argument that I have with everyone in the medical profession. Their job is to keep me alive, and the longer they do so, the more of a success it is.

However that all comes with a payoff with regard to the quality of life. I’m determined to have some quality in my life and if it means that I shuffle off this mortal coil six months or a year or two years earlier, I couldn’t care less.

There’s no way that I’m going to finish my days living like a vegetable in a Home. As Neil Young said, BETTER TO BURN OUT THAN TO FADE AWAY

As you might expect, the nurse was horrified but that’s just too bad. That’s the way it is. If they come for me on Tuesday I’m not going and that’s all there is to say about the matter.

After he left I made breakfast and then sat down to read my book. I’ve finished the book on THE ICKNIELD WAY and have started on THE ROMANS IN BRITAIN

That’s a book written in 1923 as a collection of lectures that were presented at Toronto University. It doesn’t pretend to be a scholarly tome but more of a lightweight approach as an introduction to what will inevitably be an inexhaustible study

Once breakfast was over I made some more bread. I’d used up the last of the old loaf this morning.

The bread didn’t rise as well as I would have liked. Nevertheless it’s quite light and fluffy. It was really nice having a cheese and tomato sandwich for lunch made with totally fresh, soft home-made bread.

This afternoon I had a chat with Alison on the internet and also rang Rosemary back after Friday when I fell asleep.

Rosemary’s garden s doing really well, which is nice, but we didn’t have much time to chat – only a short one of one hour and seventeen minutes – because I had a caller at the door.

My transformer (thanks, Grahame, for the heads-up) to power the Genz-Benz has arrived at last. But I can’t use it yet because the power cable that I need wasn’t included with the order. That’s coming from the USA apparently and will be here in a few days time. So we still aren’t up and running.

And then we had the football. It’s sad to say it, but Llansawel are already down, in my opinion, after just a handful of games. If form is anything to go by, the remaining relegation place should be occupied by either Aberystwyth or Y Ffint, and they were playing each other this afternoon.

It’s smething of a grudge match because Aberystwyth’s manager apparently said something unkind about Y Fflint when they were relegated a couple of seasons ago, and that has rankled with Lee Fowler, Y Fflint’s manager.

So far this season I’ve already seen each club, and for a team second-bottom with no points, I’ve been impressed with Y Fflint. They’ve taken the attack to the opposition and have been robbed of some of the spoils on a couple of occasions just by the cruellest of bad luck.

On the other hand, although Aberystwyth haven’t impressed me, they always seem to find something special at the important moments.

Today’s game was actually quite entertaining. It roared from end to end and each team created quite a few chances. It was littered with mistakes though – neither team could hang onto the ball and would lose possession far too easily.

For once though, Y Fflint had the rub of the green and while the score of 2-0 in their favour might be an exaggeration, you have to ride your luck when you can. If they play with this kind of spirit and enthusiasm and their luck holds, they should be OK but sometimes this league can be cruel.

Tea tonight was as usual, a baked potato with salad and one of my breaded quorn fillets followed by home-made apple crumble. I know that my meals are quite repetitive but I happen to like them and that’s what’s important.

So right now I’m off to bed, later than usual but with a lie-in until 08:00. And won’t I be happy when I can say goodbye to all of this nonsense with the nurses?

But all of this talk about people self-identifying reminds me of the man who went to the psychiatrists
"Doctor! Doctor! I think that I’m a dog"
"Really?" asked the psychiatrist. "How long is it that you’ve had this feeling?"
"Ever since I was a puppy"
"I think that you’d better lie down on my couch"
"I can’t" replied the man. "I’m not allowed to"

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Sunday 1st September 2024 – SUNDAY NIGHT IS …

… pizza night. And tonight’s pizza was an absolute classic.

This vegan cheese that my cleaner found for me really is the business and I hope that LeClerc keeps on stocking it. I shall have to give her instructions to find some more of it just in case …

That’s the highlight of the day, it has to be said It wasn’t really a good day today unfortunately.

Last night was pretty good though. With nothing to dictate (I’m keeping off the two projects that I’ve done because I want to review them first) I was in bed before midnight.

Of course, 23:00 is my planned curfew time but as there’s no alarm until 08:00 on a Sunday morning I can stretch a point.

Once in bed even I was surprised at the speed at which I fell asleep and there I stayed until … errr … 07:15 when I awoke.

Awake I may have been but leaving my stinking pit? Not on your Nellie! Even though I couldn’t go back to sleep I didn’t give in and leave the bed. There I stayed until the alarm went off.

Staggering off to the bathroom, I had a good wash and clean-up and then back in here to wait for the nurse to come. There was time to transcribe the dictaphone notes while I was waiting. There was someone who was having some kind of control because people were being examined for what they were carrying. One guy was carrying a kilo of something or other and when they asked what it was, he gave the name in French for it, which of course the people didn’t understand. It sounded pretty banal and ordinary enough but with the name being in French and they not understanding it they were rather concerned. They decided that they would give him a thorough search. In the meantime there were all kinds of explanations and arguments about this particular name and how everyone really ought to know what it was etc

This is the thing though, isn’t it? You ask any schoolgirl of my generation what a bèchamel sauce or a bain-marie are, and they’d know without hesitation. But nowadays the emphasis on schools is to pass the exam and lift your school up the league table, and these subsidiary lessons have gone by the board. Educating kids isn’t just passing exams, except in the UK where it’s the exam that counts and nothing else matters.

The nurse came round to sort me out this morning and also to interrogate me over my pizza. He’s probably looking for cookery tips, I suppose, but I don’t have too many to give him. I just do things and adapt recipes to suit my tastes and diet.

Breakfast was next, a nice, slow leisurely stride into morning with porridge, toast, coffee and juice. And a tonne of medication of course. I took y time, reading more of my book on THE ICKNIELD WAY.

Interestingly, the author tells us of an abandoned railway that he crossed on his walk. Not surprising but this is 1906. It appears that there was a railway into Newmarket that only operated for a handful of years and upon the bankruptcy of the operators it closed down – in 1851. One of the very first railway closures.

Just to make sure, I looked at an aerial photo of the area and there are still a few vestiges of the line remaining today.

Back in here there was football. Stranraer were away at Bonnyrigg so there was no stream this morning. Instead I watched East Fife stick five past Clyde with Nathan Austin, who’s far too good for this division, stick anther two to go with the three that he scored last week

One of my groundhoppers was out and about too so we ended up with a Scottish Cup match between Bo’ness Athletic and Kilwinning Rangers. Bo’ness won with a comfortable 2-0 scoreline.

But there’s something going on with these groundhoppers. There are three patrolling the grounds in Scotland and three or four patrolling them on the Irish mainland.

It’s a major initiative, I know, from the Scottish FA to publicise the game and flood social media and the internet in general with the games, but I’m wondering about these groundhoppers. Their output is all pretty much of a same style with similar editing and the like, so I’m wondering if there’s a School of Journalism somewhere that’s pushing these guys out to practise their art.

Lunch was a taco roll with salad filling, seeing as I’ve run out of bread. And I had to rush because I had Hamilton Academicals v Airdrie United. The Accies 2-0 up with just minutes to go to the final whistle but then two moments of inattention and that, dear reader, was that.

At this point I fell asleep for a while but woke up in time to head to the kitchen.

First task was to make some dough for bread. While it was rising, I took the pizza dough that I’d taken from the freezer after lunch and now that it was defrosted, gave it a good working over and rolled it out onto its tray.

And with half an oven to fill I made another crumble like the one the other day. And it looked delicious.

The bread dough had now risen so I gave that its second kneading and put it in its mould.

While I was waiting I cleared up and washed up everything, and when the bread dough was ready I put it and the crumble in the oven

While they were baking I assembled my pizza and had a chat on-line with a neighbour who had contacted me and very kindly brought me some more strawberries

When the bread and the crumble were cooked the pizza went in. And when it came out, it was absolute perfection.

So right now I’m off to bed ready to Fight the Good Fight tomorrow.

But talking of abandoned railway lines and stations and the like, there’s a railway station in the North of England called “Dent” – which is all very well, but it’s almost five miles from the town whose name it carries, and over some steep hills too.
One day an American tourist staggered into a pub in the town and exclaimed "why did they build the goddam railway station so far from the goddam town?"
"Well" said the landlord "I suppose that they thought it a good idea to build it close to the railway line."

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Saturday 31st August 2024 – IT’S BEEN ANOTHER …

… typical Saturday when I seem to have rather regrettably spent most of the day asleep.

It beats me why it seems to be that Saturday I grind down to a complete halt without actually making any progress whatsoever with the mountain of work that I need to do.

Mind you, admittedly I was rather late last night going to bed. Never mind midnight – it was long after that when I finally hit the sack and crawled into bed.

Once more, I was asleep quite rapidly and there I stayed until the alarm sounded at 07:00. There might have been the odd bit of tossing and turning during the night but nothing to worry about.

So at 07:00 I staggered off into the bathroom and did what I had to do, including washing my shorts. That’s a regular Saturday task and even though they had been through the machine earlier in the week they still went in through the washbasin.

Next task was to deal with the washing-up from last night which I hadn’t touched. What with the football running so late last night I’d just finished off here and gone straight to bed and left it. I know that it’s my pet peeve but if there’s a choice between washing-up and bed, it’s no contest.

Third task was to put away the frozen carrots. They’d been all prepared and had been draining on the worktop overnight. If they go into the freezer too wet they all cling together in one big clump.

The freezer is jam-packed full and it was something of a struggle to have everything fitted in – even more of a struggle than it normally is. I really need to empty some of the stuff but I’m not sure how to do it as I’m sure that the stuff in there is breeding and multiplying behind my back

Finally I could make it back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was a game at Hwlffordd. The team was playing against someone else. It was under enquiry by the Secret Service who believed that the players of one team were communicating with the enemy, presumably by the fashion in which they were playing. They had observers there watching the game very closely. Because the secret escaped that there was at least one observer there that changed a few people’s thoughts about the situation but we pressed on al the same. Although we didn’t find anything when we had criticisms to answer about it we could point to the fact that we waited until all of our enquiries were completed before making a report and if we hadn’t sent the observers to watch the game the report would have been frivolous, unclear and possibly incorrect.

As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, we were at Hwlffordd for a match last night. But whether the Secret Service was represented there was another thing. There were probably a couple of managers of local teams though, surreptitiously sizing up the opposition for the future.

By the way, I mentioned that I’d try to find a video of Hwlffordd’s sublime third goal last night. To my surprise it’s not been edited by the broadcasting company from the video of the game so I’ve done it myself and you can WATCH IT IN ALL ITS GLORY.

Believe me, it’s well-worth it. You won’t see a finer goal like this anywhere else.

Later on I was at work and the Occupational Guidance came to see me. He was only a young guy. We had a chat about my health. He then asked me if I’d take a little walk, a few steps so that he could see how I managed. I told him that I was totally unable to walk under any circumstances without my crutches so he replied “well, I’ve just seen you walk around the office on your crutches so why don’t you walk a few paces for me so that I can observe you properly?”. I stood up, picked up my crutches and set off on a little walk around the office.

Strangely enough, when I was awake I couldn’t think of the name of the job of the person who comes to check how you are coping with everyday life after an illness or injury. Yet there I am in a dream and I can come out with words like “Occupational Guidance”. I ought to go to sleep more often. But it’s all very well these people coming round to check on me, but they ought to be proposing things to help me out. I’ve had the thing to help me ride the porcelain horse but that’s all.

The nurse came round as usual and went through the process of changing the plasters on my legs and sorting out the puttees. He was quite gossipy but didn’t really say very much and was soon off on his way. I would have thought that after all this time there would have been an improvement by now but that’s not happening and it fills me full of dismay.

After he left I made breakfast and had a very leisurely start to the weekend reading some more of my book on THE ICKNIELD WAY.

What’s interesting with these old books is to see what they have to say and surmise from the evidence that was available 100 or so years ago, and while you’re reading, read a more modern version, say, from Wikipedia, that tells us about these places but with the benefit of another 100 years of research and evolution of archaeological skills.

For example, an earthwork that was described in an ancient book as “probably a Danish camp and certainly not much older” was noted in Wikipedia (which is not always correct I hasten to add) as “archaeological investigations in 1992 revealed it to be an Ancient British camp dating from Before the Romans”

In the book I’m reading there’s talk of a “derelict but magnificent packhorse bridge” whereas the village entry in Wikipedia tells us of “an old bridge which was demolished some time in the 1970s”.

After breakfast I came in here and vegetated for a while. I seem to be taking ages to liven up and start work. Once I was up and running I prepared the video extract that I mentioned earlier so that seems to be working well enough

Then I went to wash the puttees that had been soaking in a bowl for several days. They should be nice and clean now and drying quite nicely in the bathroom.

This afternoon I went to make a start on the next radio programme but regrettably I crashed out and that, I’m afraid, was that for quite a while.

Once I awoke there was more football on the Internet.

Apart from leaving the washing-up overnight, another one of my pet peeves is this modern, totally suicidal habit of playing the ball out from the goal-kicks.

In my day we had big towering centre-forwards matched by big towering defenders. Wingers pumping high crosses into the penalty area led to some famous aerial duels with forwards like Jeff Astle, Joe Jordan and Brendan O’Callaghan battling it out with centre-halves like Ron Yeats, John Wile and Gordon McQueen.

Goalkeepers added to the mix with potent long kicks pumped upfield and it all added to the chaos, panic and confusion in the opposition’s penalty area.

But these days, it’s all of this possession football where the object is to hang on to the ball as long as possible. It’s all very well if you have the skill but if you don’t, it’s a disaster.

Y FFlint, second-bottom of the table, were rather fortuitously 2-0 up against another team down there in the basement, Y Barri, and then they concede two soft goals. So with the game drawing to a conclusion they win a goal kick so they decide to hang on to the ball so that the match would end in a draw.

Anyone care to guess what happened? You can find out HERE. What a shambles. If I were Y Fflint’s manager Lee Fowler I’d be furious.

seriously though, it’s going to be a long hard struggle for Y Fflint. Their only hope is that maybe either Aberystwyth or Y Barri are worse than they are. They can’t go throwing away points like this, especially against the other teams stuck in the basement with them.

Tea tonight was another one of my delicious breaded quorn fillets with a vegan salad and baked potato. A different brand of quorn fillet and not as good unfortunately but we have to try these new vegan products that LeClerc offer if we want to encourage them to keep expanding their range.

So that’s everything for tonight. I’ll go to bed and start again tomorrow I reckon

But that story about the Occupational Therapist reminds me of the story about the guy who hobbled into the Chemist’s and asked to be shown some talcum powder
"Walk this way" said the chemist.
"If I could walk that way" said the man "I wouldn’t be needing the talcum powder."

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Friday 30th August 2024 – I’VE GIVEN UP …

… all thoughts f being in bed at a reasonable time. In fact it’s another late night tonight and by the time that I’ll have finished these notes it will be long after midnight by the time I hit the hay

In fact it’s been a pretty rotten day all round today but as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, I have days like this every now and again and I just have to pick myself up, dust myself off and start all over again.

As you might expect, seeing as I’m complaining about late nights, it was a late night again last night. Everyone was out celebrating after TNS’s triumph in qualifying for a Group Stage and while I wasn’t out and I wasn’t celebrating I was certainly revelling in the enthusiasm.

To be honest, in the six games to come, all against quality opposition TNS are going to be “turned over something shocking” by some teams and we might be back to the 1990s and on the wrong end of some embarrassing score-lines, but at least, as May Boyce would have said, TNS can say "I was there".

And so I was there too in solidarity until far too late when I finally crept off to bed.

And once more, it was totally painless. Asleep in seconds and there I remained, with just the odd fit of awakening here and there which I can’t really remember.

When the alarm went off I hauled myself up out of bed and staggered off to the bathroom to sort myself out and then, by way of change, into the kitchen to do the washing up.

Something that I really hate is waking up to a bowl of dirty dishes. That really is my pet peeve but it couldn’t be helped after last night.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I had another phantom awakening last night by a woman who was waving some kind of death star about. She was saying “those with an arm corps follow the star”. When I asked her what was happening she said that the passengers’ alarms had been forbidden in the airport so she was doing her best to wake everyone up who was due to travel. I asked “what if you had to travel some distance like to Luxembourg?”. Her reply was that they’d still be awoken so I dunno but it was like a proper Welsh border – scream, I suppose, for no intent or purpose whatsoever.

And that’s another pile of confused, garbled, meaningless nonsense as far as I can tell

I had my old blue Cortina estate. There was some really, really thick fog, so much so that it was practically impossible to see so I parked it up in Crewe Town Centre and began to walk home. I realised that I’d left one or two things in the car so I had to run back up the hill towards it. When I arrived back at it I had the idea that maybe I’d take out one or two of the spark plugs to make it very difficult for anyone to try to want to steal it. I took out a couple of the plugs but the screws that held the plugs in, I lost them and had to hunt around. Eventually I found them so that was that. I put the tools back in the tool box but I’d screwed the toolbox to the door outside and padlocked it but it wouldn’t stay closed – it kept on falling over so in the end I thought that I might as well take it home with me and bring it back next morning. For some reason or other I threw it into the back of the blue Cortina estate and then got in the car and went to turn the key to start it but suddenly realised that I’d taken out half of the spark plugs so I couldn’t go home in this vehicle anyway until I’d put them back.

During this dream I had a vague impression in the back of my mind of a Zephyr 6 mark III coming towards me out of the gloom and I don’t know why. Good cars they were, but they rotted away like hell. But there’s only one thing worse than being stuck in the fog, and that’s being stuck in the fog in Crewe. I did once know a woman who was stuck in the fog in Liverpool and wanted to drive home to Manchester, found a lorry from a yard near where she lived driving through the city so she followed it. After a couple of hours the lorry stopped and the driver alighted. “Are we in Manchester now then?” he asked. “Manchester?” asked the driver incredulously. “I’m bringing a load to Preston”.

The nurse came along a little later and sorted out my legs and then gave me today’s injection. He was in quite a chatty mood but didn’t have anything important to say. He was soon gone and I could press on and make breakfast and read some more of my book on THE ICKNIELD WAY

After breakfast I had a look at my order for LeClerc. It’s been three weeks since I’ve done any shopping so supplies are running low. It’s necessary to stock up.

And to my surprise, not only do they have olive oil, it’s on special offer too and so I stocked up. At a certain moment the cheap olive oil was not available on home delivery and I ended up having to buy the expensive stuff. And so with what I ordered today I have a year’s supply.

Soya milk too. At a push I can but that from in town but they have vanilla in theirs and it tastes disgusting. The “Natural” soya milk from LeClerc is much nicer so I have a stock of that now too.

So drastically over-ordering, I sent off my order and arranged for it to be delivered this afternoon.

There was plenty to do this afternoon but instead I was side-tracked. The cleaner came to do her thing and we had quite a chat

And then the hospital in Paris telephoned to see how I was and if I needed anything. There’s talk that they’ll be calling me in for a stay there at some time soon, but I’ve heard all that before

Regrettably, after that, I fell asleep, to be awoken by some frantic ringing at the doorbell. My supplies had arrived.

So having put everything away, I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning, peeling, dicing and blanching 2 kilos of carrots ready for the freezer

Tea was a rushed salad and chips with vegan nuggets because we had yet more football – Hwlffordd v y Drenewydd.

With the collapse of Connah’s Quay Nomads, second place this year is up for grabs and while Y Bala must fancy their chances, Y Drenewydd would be optimistic too and Hwlffordd would be a good outside bet as dark horses.

But this game was all one-way traffic and the score of 3-0 to Hwlffordd was in no way flattering. The central midfield pairing of Greg Walters and Corey Shepherd controlled this game from start to finish and the back three of Lee Jenkins, Kyle McCarthy and Maltese international Luke Tabone looked as solid as a rock. New Zealand international keeper Zak Jones had nothing whatever to do.

But if you want to see a visual definition of the word “sublime”, I’ll try over the next few days to find a video of Hwlffordd’s third goal. It was the most beautiful goal I have ever seen.

So that’s it. The washing-up can wait again. I’m going to bed.

But on the subject of washing up there was the old advert which I’m sure many of my readers will remember, of the kid asking "mummy mummy, why are your hands so nice and soft?"
In the old days it was "because I use Fairy Liquid" but today it would be "because we have an automatic dishwasher, you berk."
However, I always knew it as "because daddy does all the washing up, dear."

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Thursday 29th August 2024 – THEY’LL BE DANCING …

… in the streets of TNS tonight!

For the first time ever, after over 30 years of trying, a Welsh football club has finally qualified for a Group stage of a European competition.

Admittedly, it’s only the Europa Conference, the least of the three competitions, but it’s a Group stage nevertheless. So hats off to manager Craig Harrison and his team. And to Chairman Mike Harris who has supported the team, the League, and Welsh club football in general since the mid-nineties

It’s quite fair to say that his support has somewhat distorted the power dynamics of the League, not always in any way that is favourable to to the other clubs and this minimum of €3,000,000 prize money will distort it even more. But it’s still a magnificent achievement

What would also be a magnificent achievement would be if I were able to go to bed before 23:00 but again last night I fell way short – or, rather, overshot rather badly. I don’t know what I’m doing or where the time is going these days but everything seems to be taking so long.

There was no reason at all to be late last night but nevertheless it was approaching midnight when I finally hit the hay.

The good news was that I didn’t need much rocking. I was asleep quite quickly and despite waking up a couple of times for no good reason, there I stayed until the alarm went off at 07:00.

Then it was a rather undignified stagger into the bathroom to sort myself out and have a good wash. And then a lap or two around the apartment collecting up the dirty clothes and the like, and setting the washing machine off on the go. I’m running low on clothes again.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night and more importantly, to see who went with me. Nerina came the other night, which made a pleasant change from members of my family, but I’m still living in hope that Castor, Zero and TOTGA will come back at some point.

No such luck last night though. I had another one of these phantom awakenings. I awoke being sure that I’d heard the alarm for a big Welsh football team whose name I’ve forgotten up to the place opposite Arbroath where I’d come to buy some things. The two of us came back down to the ground ready to meet the players and to explain our tactic and hope that they’d enjoy it but I would of course be like a fish out of water if I confronted the players because I had the ability to find out what they would do about him and this game of games and nothing at all about the Game of Thrones

And if anyone can make any sense of that little lot, please let me know.

I was at work and I actually had a date with my Greek friend. Of course people in the Diffusion service heard about it and contacted me to chivvy me and tease me about it but I didn’t pay it any attention. It wasn’t until they started talking about what she was going to eat for breakfast that I began to think much more carefully about what was going on. Suddenly I had a mail but couldn’t find out who it was from but it was about the following day and it was headed “breakfast”. Looking down the list was like a breakfast that you could order from the place where we were staying, whether it was a Continental breakfast or Healthy breakfast or Cooked breakfast etc. She’d chosen the Energetic breakfast, or someone had chosen it, and sent it to me. This is where I began to think “is it she who is coming to see me? Am I to expect a new keen energetic Greek friend or the old lethargic one? I’m not too sure. Or is she finally going to forget that she’s a human being and participate in some of the joys of being human? I don’t know. It all sounded too good to be true to me and if they do sound too good to be true then they usually are. We shall see

That was rather a strange dream too. But as for my Greek lady-friend, she was strange too. Whenever I was “with” someone else she was attaching herself to me in a rather bewildering fashion to such an extent that even Roxanne noticed, but when I was on my own she kept a very considerable distance away from me. It was a shame really because she was a lovely girl, so much so that if I had ever had to choose between her and the Irish girl who also kept a very discreet distance from me, I would have had quite a struggle. However, both of them had far more sense than to ever become seriously entangled with me and I can’t say that I blame them. I know that if I ever were given the choice, I’d untangle myself quite rapidly, and hats off to Nerina who lasted almost nine years

That’s the first road sign that we’ve seen for Middle Earth, The Falls of Gondolin, and that’s where we turn off on our adventure and side-track ourselves in that direction to find out what Tolkien wrote when he wrote about the fall of the city, see who was involved and what the story and what the story was all about

Yes, THE FALL OF GONDOLIN is not a place but a book, one of the adventures of Middle-Earth written by Tolkien. But you could immediately imagine it being on a road sign referring to a cascade of water somewhere in the vicinity

The nurse came round and sorted me out, but he didn’t stay long. He couldn’t make his wi-fi card reader connect to the internet to read my health card so he took it with him to return later.

By now the washing was finished so I emptied the machine and hung everything up, then went for breakfast and to carry on READING MY BOOK ON THE ICKNIELD WAY for a while. These ancient books are really quite interesting and absorbing.

While I was at it, I did some research into the author. He was called Edward Thomas and is much better-known as a poet. But despite him being married and of somewhat senior years, he enlisted in the Artists Rifles in World War I and was killed at Arras in 1917

It was another slow start to the day but once I’d managed to wind myself up I attacked the second one of my outstanding projects for the radio.

That’s now finished too, although as usual, I’ll go through the text that I’ve written and there will probably be several rewrites and amendments before it’s ready for recording

Just a couple more holes to fill in in my sequence before I can carry on roaring off into the sunset.

But I still am struggling somewhat with this huge pile of concerts, trying to work out dates and running orders. And as seems to be the case, we have nothing at all for weeks and then half a dozen concerts on the same day. So which one do you choose?

That is definitely what you might call a “First-World Problem”.

There was the break for hot chocolate and home-made ginger cake (and thanks, John, for the helpful suggestion) and also, regrettably, to crash out for a while.

My cleaner brought up the post this afternoon, but no Health Card. Either the nurse forgot or else he still couldn’t make his card reader connect.

But then we had the football – TNS v the Lithuanian champions, FC Panevezys

TNS had, to everyone’s surprise, including their own, won 3-0 away from home in the first leg. But with no fit striker they simply packed the midfield and played possession football for the whole 90 minutes.

It ended up as a 0-0 draw, which also surprised no-one, but that as all that they needed to go through the final stage of the qualifying tournament to reach the Group stages, the first Welsh club to do so since Welsh clubs began to compete in European competition following the creation of the League of Wales in 1992

Strangely enough, TNS DID have a striker on the bench.

A couple of weeks ago, in an effort to avoid a fixture pile-up, they sent out what was effectively a reserve team to play Y Fflint. In the close season they had signed a winger from Caernarfon, Sion Bradley, and in the game at Y FFlint they played Bradley as a makeshift centre-forward.

And badger me if he didn’t score a hat-trick

Had it been me in charge of TNS I’d have put him on the field tonight up front to see if lightning would strike twice

However, my opinion is that why TNS signed Sion Bradley was not that they wanted him or needed him, but it was to stop him going to Connah’s Quay to replace Jordan Davies.

No tea tonight regrettably. The football came in the way of all that. So I’ll go to bed hungry and have a good breakfast in the morning.

At least I’ll be in some kind of shape. There will be some heavy heads at Park Hall in the morning

But that reminds me. Amongst the crowd celebrating at Park Hall Stadium tonight was a Polar Bear
He went up to the bar and said "a double gin and …. lemonade"
"What’s with the pause?" asked the barman
"I was born with them" replied Nanook

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Monday 30th August 2024 – IT’S A BANK …

… holiday in the UK today and so in accordance with my usual prior-established principles, I have emulated my namesake the mathematician and done three-fifths of five-eighths of … errr … nothing.

Usually, that would also mean a lie-in too but these days lie-ins, or lies-in, are a thing of the past. What with the nurse coming round to bother me at 08:30 every morning, unless I want her to get into bed with me, I have to be up and about.

So that means going to bed at a reasonably early time and once more, I failed miserably. It might not have been midnight, but it was a long weary while after my target time of 23:00

With all of the stuff that I have to do before I go to bed, I’m surprised that I actually manage to find the time to go to sleep.

But anyway I did manage to make it into bed and I was asleep quickly enough, ready to join in the (af)fray in the morning.

When the alarm went off, I was flat out fast asleep in bed. And so was the dictaphone. By the looks of things I’d fallen asleep in the middle of dictating a dream and left the machine running. So I apologise once more for doubting you, Percy Pengiun.

After having a good wash I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was some kind of conflict between a football club and a group of “Stop Oil” protestors. The “Stop Oil” protestor was eventually arrested and taken to Court where the Judge told him that while he respected the right of everyone to protest, other people also have rights too, including the right to enjoy a peaceful game of football. His rights were no more important than theirs etc. I didn’t get to where the sentence was

That kind of thing surprises me – that I can string together a logical argument while I’m asleep. I just wish that I could do it while I’m awake. But really, these “Stop Oil” protestors are bringing their own movement into disrepute, travelling to demonstrations by aeroplane or car instead of walking or cycling there. And what about the rights of other people, like the right to travel by car?

I was out with some friends. We’d been working in some area so we decided that we’d go to the pub. I was driving and we ended up in this village. I parked the car in the village centre and walked but there was no pub. We went into the local garage to ask the guy there. He knew of someone who was marrying and having a party but that was about everything. He said that he knew of no pub in the village. He had a nice P100 pick-up in there – a black one based on a Mark V Cortina. Someone remembered that there was a pub in the next village so we decided that we’d go there. They ran off. It was my father who got behind the wheel of the car while the others pushed it so that they’d turn it round but they ended up pushing it probably a couple of hundred yards. I had to hobble after them. When I arrived at the car I told them that I’d parked the car where it was because it was convenient for me. I’m not in the state where I can go running after the car that someone is moving around. This kind of thing is going to kill me. They should have a little more consideration for me and my illness. Their response surprised me. They started to complain saying “you mean you have an illness and you don’t know whether it’s eight years or eighty years” and quite a few other things that made me think that they believed that I was malingering. In the end once I’d finally installed myself behind the wheel and finally recovered my breath I turned to them and told them that I’d had enough and was going home. They were free to either carry on, stay here or go back home to Crewe as they wished but I just wanted to go home. I’d had enough

This is rather a familiar story, isn’t it? Regular readers of this rubbish will recall a considerable number of conflicts between my family and me over all kinds of things, many that have spilled over into my nocturnal ramblings. I mean – it’s over 30 years since I removed myself from the sphere of influence of my family so why does it keep on cropping up these days?

So now you understand why football matches at Stranraer are taken quite seriously by the footballers and they refuse to participate in what I call these “distraction” games. There was always the problem with playing with teams like Caledonian Braves and – what’s the other one – Knights of Columbia or whatever they are called, provided that they are quite sensible about it, that they dress like footballers, play like footballers and act like footballers in place of people who want to play politics … fell asleep here …

Funnily enough, I saw a football match the other day involving Caledonian Braves, a team that plays in the Scottish Lowland League. I can’t say that I remember too much about it so I can’t have been impressed

So did I dictate the dream … "no you didn’t" – ed … about – I have porridge here in my mind I’ve no idea why – about the guy who had an emotional breakdown for some reason or other while he was being questioned. No-one really knew and neither did he. He went off to speak to someone to talk about this emotional crisis that he’d had in the middle of one of these interviews.

People having emotional crises in the middle of interviews is always a recipe for disaster. There are never any winners in that scenario.

Isabelle the Nurse was in chat mode again today and had a lot to say about absolutely nothing at all. So much so that she forgot to swipe my health card for the end of the Month and had to come back later in the day to do the paperwork

After she left I made breakfast and read some more of my book. This week’s book is the story of a walk along the Icknield Way in 1906 or some date like that and it’s very interesting.

The author here talks about ley lines without even saying what they are or understanding what they are supposed, according to some people, to do. But he figured out their purpose well enough to be able to make a few comments that attracted later supporters of that theory

And the derision of a few opponents, I shouldn’t wonder.

There was a ‘phone call today too. The surgeon who performed my operation has heard my story about the bill and is outraged. He (via his secretary) was pleading with me to keep the appointment on the 10th of September and he’ll “see what he can do”.

That’s two groups of people now seeing what they can do, but by the looks of things they don’t seem to be doing enough

So having spent the morning sorting out the hospital bookings, this afternoon I’ve been footballing.

My Scottish ground-hopping expeditions took me to Irvine for the local Marymass derby between Irvine Meadow and Irvine Victoria.

It’s a cup match with a difference – the Meadow are about 50 places higher than the Vics in the league and the game was being played at the Meadow’s ground. And so it was odds-on a Meadow victory

But form counts for nothing in the cup and the Vics surprisingly ran out 2-1 victors. And that upset just about everyone except for a band of about 150 Vics supporters in the “away” end who braved the torrential rain to cheer on their team.

My cleaner stuck her head in to bring back the rest of the medication and to take my order for LeClerc’s cheese. And some fresh ginger too. I fancy making a ginger cake.

She sent me a photo later of her ginger plant. She had some ginger once that sprouted roots so she planted it – and it grew. It smells lovely apparently when you rub the leaves.

There were some bills to pay too today. I don’t want to forget those as they are important.

Apart from that, I’ve been radioing. I’ve been organising the folders and carrying on with one of my projects. It’s slow going but it won’t be done at all if I don’t do it

Tea tonight was a delicious stuffed pepper – one of the frozen batch. And that reminds me – when I send off my order later this week I’ll need four peppers, not two. Stocks are running low.

So that’s that for now. I’m ready for bed. Back to work tomorrow so I need to find some motivation from somewhere

But talking about the football, I was told a story about the match at Penybont this afternoon where Aberystwyth Town are said to have turned in one of the worst performances by any Welsh Premier team.
Tow lads from Aberystwyth were caught climbing over the fence at the ground at half-time but the police caught them.
"It’s no good, lads. Climbing the fence won’t help you" said one of the coppers. "You’ll just have to climb back again"
"What?" asked one of the boys. "And watch another 45 minutes of that rubbish?"

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