Tag Archives: Nerina Hall

Monday 20th July 2026 – NOT ANOTHER MARATHON …

… session at the dialysis centre, surely. The maximum rate of extraction for me is 950 millilitres per hour and they had it running today at 934. This dialysis is beginning to look like an extreme sport.

Going to bed is becoming an extreme sport too these days. Try as I might, I can’t seem to go to bed at anything like a reasonable time. Even last night, it was still getting on for 23:30 when I finally went to bed.

That’s not all either. I had another turbulent night that ended at 02:30 when I awoke. From then on, it was another one of these “drifting in and out of sleep” nights;

When the alarm rang, we had the usual struggle to drag me to my feet but eventually I managed to drag myself into the bathroom to sort myself out, including a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis.

Back in here afterwards, I turned my attention to the dictaphone to find out what had been going on during the night.

I was in bed when I dreamed that a girlfriend’s mother came by and started to give me food. But one of the pieces of food went down my windpipe instead of my throat, and I awoke with one of these incredible coughing fits that I haven’t had for a while as if I had something stuck in my throat.

This dream is self-explanatory, and it’s really sad news to see that this cough is slowly coming back to haunt me.

There is also “something” going on right now involving a former girlfriend’s mother, and who knows? You might get to hear about it if you’re patient, because it won’t be any time soon.

We were at a big university and there was a lot going on there. The first thing was that one of the girls whom we vaguely knew ended up being the girlfriend of a friend. He used to spend most of his time in her room so we went up once and had a crafty listen at the door. And we weren’t wrong! We noticed on the door was this girl’s name and her boyfriend’s name, with a couple of boyfriends’ names crossed out – they had obviously once been going out with her. My two friends wanted to creep away but I wanted to write “congratulations” on a piece of paper and push it under the door to surprise them. But in the end, I left, and we carried these spear things that we had. We carried them down the stairs with us. Then, there was a drought and things were struggling. We knew that the Japanese students were able to conjure up water so we thought that we’d capture a couple, so I went to try to capture one of these Japanese people, but in the end my friends talked me out of it. At the same time, someone decided that he was going to play a game. He was going to be let loose and roam around this tower block and everyone else would have to try to capture him. We were doing something like this with dice and counters in a game called “The Met”, like you have with the Metropolitan Police, but this was real life so we started off on the hunt. Eventually, I could tell roughly which room he was in, so we went again down the corridor and listened at the door until we were chased away by some Japanese soldiers. I had a plan then that they would be guarding that corridor and they’d be guarding the uphill approach to there, so I got into the lift and went to the floor above. There were different people waiting to get into the lift, and in the end, my two friends joined me, and we managed to keep everyone else out. So we walked down to the end of this corridor and climbed over the safety rail and walked down the fire escape until we were near the door which would lead into the hostel there on that floor. But there were two students standing guard on the window there to that room so we had to think of a way to break in because these students were thin and maybe malnourished. Anyway, we arrived there at this window, and there were two people sitting there on the window and they were pushing everyone away, including us, even though we’d come from a different direction. In the end, we had a maths challenge where the three of us were given a hundred questions and we had to see how many we could do and how many of them would be correct.

What a strange dream this was! It’s not the first time that I’ve invented a new game during my sleep. I ought to patent and market them. But for this game here, I can already imagine the entries on several squares –
1 – insult a colleague of ethnic minority
2 – kick a peaceful protester in the groin
3 – interview a witness so thoroughly that he has to spend the next five weeks in hospital

The two friends in this dream are unknown to me but the other guy and the girl involved are people whom I know and recognise from fifty-five years ago. The building, too, is also one that has featured quite regularly in my life during my waking hours thirty-five to forty years ago.

Apart from all of that, this is another dream that would be quite interesting to explore further, although not necessarily the maths test and the Japanese people. I’m not sure why they are there.

The nurse was really early again today but he didn’t stay long. He seemed to be in quite a hurry and didn’t have much to say. Once he’d left, I could make my breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

We’ve left early mediaeval France and are now discussing “The Romanesque Of Northern France And England, Or Norman Style”.

We’re not even ten lines into the chapter when he comments that "it will be allowable to dwell with greater minuteness upon the architecture of so splendid a period, when if art had not reached the same zenith of perfection as in the palmy days of Gothic skill, yet the number, vastness, and magnificence of its works attest alike the bounty of founders and the genius of architects.".

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that only ten days ago, he was heaping abuse on Roman architecture "on the ground of mere vastness and magnificence" and lack of artistic effort.

However, the reasons for his dramatic change of opinion when it comes to the architecture of Northern France and England soon become clear. "Majestic and awful, rather than beautiful, no style is more truly religious, more imbued with the spirit and position of the Church in its own day, the day when St. Anselm braved spoliation and banishment, and St. Thomas sealed his witness with his blood."

Back in here, there was, as usual, plenty do but it ended up being more than that because, at about 10:15, I fell asleep and didn’t awaken until 11:10. That was a waste of an hour.

At 12:00 (I’ve set an alarm on dialysis day now so that I don’t oversleep), I headed off into the living room to prepare my things. My cleaner turned up ready to apply the anaesthetic but when she took the plasters off from Saturday, one of the punctures began to bleed, so that delayed us for a while.

While she was here, I also showed her how I had repaired the drawer yesterday. And while I was demonstrating, another one fell apart so we’ll fix that when I come back.

The taxi was ten minutes early today, which is good news. The earlier I arrive, the earlier I can depart. We had to go to Sartilly to pick up my usual travelling companion, but even so, it was just a handful of seconds after 13:30 when we arrived.

As I said earlier, there’s another mammoth load of water to remove from me today, as I discovered when I weighed myself, so I wasn’t looking forward to this session. I was in a small ward with just one other person today, but the nurse in charge was one who seems to have something of an attachment to me and she even stroked my arm several times.

She explained which of the blood pressure readings were important and which weren’t, so if the alarm rang for an unimportant reading, she showed me how to cancel it. That meant that I could pretty much be left in peace.

One of the doctors came round and asked me how things were, so I told him about the cough and the pain in my foot. “We’ll see how it develops” was his response. That’s helpful.

When I was unplugged, I had to wait for the taxi but even so, I was still back here for 18:20. My faithful cleaner was there to help me in, and then we set about repairing the drawer that had collapsed at lunchtime. This time, though, it wasn’t as easy as the others that I repaired, but once we resorted to the use of a hammer, it seemed to go together acceptably.

After my cleaner left, I made a quick tea – a plate of pasta and veg tossed in olive oil, freshly ground black pepper and grated vegan cheese. And it was just as delicious as always.

After I’d washed up, I came back in here to write up my notes, but no sooner had I started than a huge wave of fatigue overwhelmed me. To my extreme disappointment … "and to yours too, I imagine" – ed … there was no other solution but to go to bed, and my notes can take care of themselves in the morning.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the police … "well, one of us has" – ed … one day a policeman turned up at our front door and spoke to Nerina.
He showed her a photo and asked her "is this your husband?"
"Yes it is" she replied.
The policeman continued "I’m afraid that it looks as if he’s been hit by a lorry"
"I know" she replied. "His personality is not up to much either."

Sunday 19th July 2026 – WHEN I AWOKE …

… this morning, there was bright sunlight outside and the birds were singing, including a dove that lives somewhere around here. So I checked the time – 06:29 exactly. So there’s nothing wrong with my body clock, is there?

Mind you, it wasn’t the first time that I’d awoken. I’d been awake on several occasions previously, usually when it was pitch-black, but I couldn’t be bothered to check the time at those moments.

Anyway, by 07:07 I was sitting at my desk working, having had time to organise myself in the bathroom first.

First job was to reply to a couple of messages that I’d received during the night, and then I could make a start on yesterday’s notes that had been abandoned before they had even begun.

For a change, I actually put my back into it and the notes were almost complete when the nurse came in. He was surprised to find me up and about … "and so were you" – ed … but I explained about the dreadful night that I’d had.

While he was dealing with my feet, he was complaining about the dreadful showing of the French team in the first half against England last night. He reckoned that the players out there, particularly in the first half, had absolutely no interest in playing and it was embarrassing to watch.

On leaving, he told me to take it easy, something that I had every intention of doing. First, though, was to make my breakfast. Porridge, coffee and the last of the two home-made croissants. I must make some more soon.

While I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Well, actually, I wasn’t. He ended up talking about the Papal residency in Avignon, and although Nerina and I visited Avignon in 1991 and danced upon the bridge, I can’t remember much about it, and all my old 35mm photos are down on the farm. Consequently, I spent much of the morning reading about the time the Popes lived in Avignon and looking at pictures of the mediaeval magnificence.

Back in here, I finished off the blog entry for yesterday and it’s now on line. That was followed by listening to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

At something like about 04:40, someone came into the bedroom shouting “Ian Henstone! Ian Henstone!” who I couldn’t see what on earth he was looking at but the vet saw me and said “as you are here and all these … fell asleep here …

As for Ian Henstone, whoever he is when he’s at home … "if he ever is" – ed … I have no idea, but I do know of a Henstone Distillery.

And I’m not surprised that this degenerated into a load of the usual drivel … "you said it" – ed … with me falling asleep in the end.

Nerina and I were talking to some old woman about some cream that Nerina needed for something. It had to be a very special type that was not normally available. This woman said that she knew where she could obtain it so we asked her whether she would mind. She replied that it wouldn’t be a problem at all. A couple of days later, we went back to see how she was getting on but she said that she hadn’t received it yet. Just at that moment, a policeman appeared. He asked this woman for her name, which she gave him. He asked her if she had tried to obtain some cream made of some part of a duck or something from a herbalist somewhere, to which she replied that she had. The policeman replied that it’s not allowed for sale any more and formally charged her with a crime. Both Nerina and this lady pleaded their cases but the copper was adamant. At that point, I had something to do so I had to wander off, but I said to Nerina that when I come back, I’d love to see that charge that he’s given her. She asked why, and I replied that I bet it’s set down as “receiving” instead of “attempting to receive”. I went to do what I had to do, and then coming back down Victoria Street in Crewe, there was an old furniture sales place that had been empty for years but now had a big “Tesco” sticker stuck on the window, and there were people inside clearing up the inside. It looks as if we’re having another one of these local Tescos here. I went back to where Nerina and this old woman were. Nerina showed me the charge, and it was written down as “attempting”, but “attempt” had been written incorrectly. I thought “well, there’s a loophole here that I can exploit,” so I was quite looking forward to representing this woman in Court.

There’s a lot going on in this dream too. There’s more than enough to render the summons invalid. I’d love to prove that in Court.

And then the Tesco’s in the old furniture shop – that would be interesting too and help liven up the town centre, not that it would ever happen. But the need for special cream is something of more relevance to Laurence rather than to Nerina.

After that, there was football. There had been several matches in the Scottish League Cup yesterday, so I searched for the highlights of the St Johnstone v Greenock Morton game. And I rather wish that I hadn’t because, once again, Morton were awful and the 3-0 defeat rather flattered them. In my opinion, they were lucky to get 0.

When the match had finished, I did some reading before going for a disgusting drink break. And then I was working on another project for a few hours, just to keep myself busy.

By then the highlights of the match between Stranraer and Alloa Athletic had been posted on line. And Stranraer did really well, drawing 2-2 away to higher-level opposition.

Later on, it was time to go a-baking. And today, I made some bread. I wanted to try something different instead of the usual sunflower seeds, so I ground up a large handful of almonds and added them in. We’ll see how they react to the bread.

While the bread was baking, I assembled another half-dozen home-made croissants. And when the bread was baked, they went into the oven and now they are ready for starting next weekend.

And I think that I’ve fixed the problem relating to the drawers in the kitchen. I had another one collapse on me this evening, and while I was repairing it, I finally managed to understand why they kept falling apart. This time, therefore, I fixed it properly and little by little, I’ll go round and do the rest.

So having written my notes and generally done what needs doing, I’m off to bed, hoping for a good night’s sleep before dialysis … "and not before time too" – ed …

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about distilleries … "well, one of us has" – ed … I had a friend once who drowned in a vat of whisky in a distillery.
"That must have been a quick end" said my friend.
"Not at all" I replied. "He got out three times for a bite to eat."

Friday 17th July 2026 – AFTER THE DISASTER …

… of yesterday, today has been a much more satisfying, and a much more productive day, and for once in a long, long time, I am happy with what I have accomplished.

Not that you might have thought so during the night. What with one thing and another … "and until you make a start, you have no idea just how many other things there are" – ed … it was 23:45 when I finally crawled into bed last night, looking forward to my long, uninterrupted sleep.

And there I stayed, too, until all of 02:03 (I checked). At that point, an enormous coughing fit awoke me (yes, the antibiotics stopped a week ago) and I couldn’t go back to sleep again.

At some point, though, I must have done, but it wasn’t for long and I was awake again, watching the darkness gradually turn into daylight as the sunlight slowly began to creep round the edges of the shutters.

The alarm shattered my reverie, and to my surprise, it didn’t take long for me to have my feet on the floor. Mind you, having my feet on the floor is one thing. Standing upright on them is something else completely.

Once I’d summoned up the enthusiasm and the energy, I went to sort myself out in the bathroom and then came back in here.

I had my CX500 out, so I thought that I’d go to see my friend on the Wirral. I went all the way there, but he wasn’t in. It turned out that he was in the local bar, so I went to look for it and there, I joined him. We were chatting about things and he mentioned that there was some kind of motorcycle rally taking place over the weekend in his area. We carried on chatting for a while and then I asked him if he wanted me to come up on the weekend to go to this rally, but he said “no”. I thought “there’s not much point carrying on this conversation” so I went to begin to go home. But I had no headlight on the motorbike. There was a sidelight but no headlight. First of all, I went down to another pub and had half of bitter. That was absolutely packed and I had trouble trying to find a seat. There was someone in there saying “God, this place is just packed with people drinking” so I shouted out “so what did you expect to find in a pub?” that brought a whole roar of laughter from most of the people in there. When I went to go, I climbed onto the motorbike and made sure that the sidelight at least was working, started up the bike and headed for home. But I was halfway down Electricity Street and Alton Street before I realised that I was going the wrong way, so I turned the motorbike round and headed for home. I stopped off on the way at a friend’s house in Winsford. He found a headlight bulb so I went to try it in the motorbike and it actually worked. I thanked my friend and my father. This other guy was here, he from the Wirral. He said to my dad and his friend “do you want to see two motor scooters?”. They had no interest in that so they said “no”, but it turned out that they were two types from Eastern Europe. One was a Korno but I don’t know what the other one was. Eventually, they went to see them but they were distracted by four kittens that came out of the garage. One of the kittens I knew, but I didn’t know the three others. When he went away to do something, my father, his friend and I just stayed there looking at these kittens.

There’s lots of mileage in this dream.

My father and his friend are here again, after making an appearance a couple of days ago. My father, I can understand, but not his friend, about whom I haven’t thought for something like thirty-five years.
As for my friend, there is a pub just around the corner from where he used to live. And there is actually a funny story about it, but the World is not yet ready to hear it.
He was also extremely moody and his rather abrupt “no” wouldn’t have been any surprise in real life.
Why I would be in Alton Street and Electricity Street (in Crewe) when I’m supposed to be on the Wirral, and coming home via Winsford is totally mystifying me.
The friend with the lock-up garages (and the kittens) is a different friend completely than the one on the Wirral.
In that particular friend’s garages, you might well be likely to find a couple of rare motor scooters from Eastern Europe, but as far as I have been able to find, there was nothing called a “Korno”. However, there is a village of that name in the Czech Republic.

And probably much more besides.

There was also a dream about me having a very tight timetable for the place where I worked. There was talk that I’d be having a few days off from the Wednesday to the following Tuesday to go to see a concert by a German composer, somewhere on the north coast of Scotland on the Saturday night. Nerina would be going with me and so would my brother and his wife. We met in a pub to discuss what I thought was the trip but it turned out that they had no intention whatever of going. They couldn’t recall mentioning it in the past, but I was certain that they did. But I’d warned everyone at work, but obviously we aren’t going now so it doesn’t matter.

Not that I’m likely to be going anywhere with my brother and his wife, a classical music concert wouldn’t be of all that much interest to me.

But the idea of organising everything and having it all fall apart at the last moment is nothing new whatsoever, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall. It’s something that happened frequently in the old days. As for working to a tight schedule, I’m sure that you have seen plenty of evidence of this.

But there was one boy who was fed up with having porridge and things like that for breakfast and was agitating his parents to have sandwiches. I hoped that that didn’t happen because I enjoyed my porridge in the morning.

This is something that I dread happening. Breakfast, with my porridge and toast, is just about the only meal I really enjoy these days and it would be an absolute catastrophe if I were to lose my appetite for it.

And that reminds me – regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I’ve been talking a lot about the loss of my appetite following the chemotherapy sessions that I had. While I was browsing through these pages looking for something in particular, I came across this quote –
"At lunchtime, I had some vegan cheese on my butty and I’m a little disturbed because the taste seems to have changed. It hasn’t – it’s that my taste buds have changed since I’ve had chemotherapy and that’s disturbing me. It’s one of the reasons that I’m off my food right now. I don’t really fancy anything to eat and the idea of eating anything greasy makes me queasy."

That’s a quote from the first time that I had chemotherapy, and in particular the ENTRY FROM 10th APRIL 2016 – over ten years ago. Plus ça change, plus c’est la meme chose.

The nurse was a little later than usual today, and he wittered away about nothing in particular while he dealt with my legs and feet. After he left, I could make breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

At the moment, he’s having an interesting discussion on the difficulties that people had back in his day almost two hundred years ago, telling the difference between Anglo-Sacon and Norman stonework.

If you ever see them close together these days now that we know so much more, there’s no difficulty in recognising the differences

You can see the difference here in this photograph that I took of St Mary Magdalen Church in Geddington. The Anglo-Saxon stonework is on the left and straight ahead over the arch. Then round to the right, where it all becomes so much neater, that’s the Norman stonework. The Normans had much more experience of stonework than did the Anglo-Saxons, what with everything that they built in Normandy prior to the Battle of Hastings.

Back in here, I had the usual few things to do, and then I attacked the notes for this concert on which I’d been working. They are now all written and ready for typing.

After that, there was one that I started a week or two back, and that’s now all done too and ready for broadcasting, although that won’t be for a while just yet.

There were the odd interruptions while I was doing that. First of all, there was a disgusting drink break with the lunchtime medication, and then my faithful cleaner turned up to do her stuff.

While she was here, I had her take two of the drawers out of the freezer, and I sat on the chair and went through them, sorting them out. Some stuff was binned but the rest is now organised and I know what I’ve got and where it is. And doesn’t that make a change?

Back in here and after the radio stuff was finished, I began to tidy up the mass of papers that was hanging around in here. That’s mostly now done too. As I said, it’s been a very productive day.

However, I didn’t ‘arf have a fright. While I was looking at something out of the window, a big bird, probably a seagull, flew slap-bang head-first right into it. The noise was astonishing and I thought that the window had broken, but it remained intact.

I told my cleaner about it, and she went outside to look but there was no evidence of anything.

Not like the owl that flew into the window of a place where I was staying in Leuven.

The poor bird – an owl by the looks of things – quite clearly left his mark on the glass there, and I don’t think that he could have survived a collision like that. But on my window, there’s not a trace.

Later on, it was time for tea. Chips, sausage and baked beans – the beans cooked with freshly ground black pepper and vegan cheese. Delicious as always.

And for pudding, I had some of the fruit bread that I made a few days ago. It’s a little dry, but the taste is magnificent and I’m really happy with that.

So now it’s bedtime, ready for dialysis tomorrow … "I don’t think" – ed …

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about appetites … "well, one of us has" – ed … a young guy takes a young girl out for a meal. To his surprise, she orders almost everything on the menu. And then she gulps it down.
"Blimey!" said the boy. "Do you eat like this at home?"
"No" she replies. "No-one wants to sleep with me there."

Saturday 11th July 2026 – I CAME HOME …

… from dialysis this afternoon in an ambulance, flat out on a stretcher.

However, before anyone is alarmed, there was no urgent reason for it. They didn’t have a taxi available to bring me home at that moment, so it was either wait forty-five minutes for a car to be free or else hop into an ambulance that was doing nothing.

My hopping days are, unfortunately, over and I couldn’t climb into the ambulance, so the girls who were crewing it put me on the stretcher and I had a nice relaxing ride home.

It’s about time that I had a nice relaxing time because things have been rather rough these last few days, and last night was no exception. Despite not having much to do after tea, I ended up being in bed rather later than I wanted to be. It was about 22:45 when I finally crawled into my stinking pit.

Although I went to sleep quite quickly once I was in bed, it wasn’t for long. By 01:20, I was awake again and this time, I managed to drift occasionally back to sleep. However, what sleep I did have didn’t really do me much good.

And in news that will surprise everyone, the alarm didn’t go off this morning. And for a very good reason too. At the times when it was supposed to have gone off – at 06:29 with its repeater at 06:33 – I’d already been up for a good half-hour and I’d long-since switched it off. I didn’t manage to go back to sleep and I thought that there was no point trying to force myself or to waste time when there was plenty of work to do.

The first thing to do is to listen to the dictaphone to see where I’d been during the night.

There was also a dream about collecting the empty soap containers after we’d filled up the sauce bottles in the bathroom for the clothes washing. They had plenty of them, so I was going to sort them out and give them a big wash, but when it came down to it, I couldn’t actually find them any more. I’d forgotten where I’d left them

A couple of days ago, I’d had to refill the liquid soap in the soap dispenser in the bathroom sink and also refill the shower gel container in the shower. Filling up the sauce bottles … "sauce bottles?" – ed … in the bathroom is something probably related to that.

Interestingly, though, this is one of those dreams for which I have absolutely no recollection at all. And it was the “also” that interested me. Has there been a previous dream that I might have missed somewhere?

Last night, I was staying with some people whom I knew. There was a big crowd of us. I was shown my room, which was a total mess with papers absolutely everywhere, but it was my room with my bed so I fetched in all of my papers and my music so that I could install myself. The woman of the house kept on coming in to find out what I was up to, and she was most aggressive, which is not like the girl I married at all. It was a real struggle to make myself be organised. Then I went into the living room, which was an even worse mess. My brother was there so we made one of these Japanese roly-poly things between the two of us and we rolled around the kitchen and bedroom floor for a moment. However, nothing seemed to be getting done and this woman was becoming more and more agitated, so in the end, I decided that this visit wasn’t worth it at all. I went back into the kitchen and cleaned the sink and a few things, and as soon as I’d put away the old eggshells and things like that, I went back into my room and began to tidy it, putting all the books together and all the papers together and so on in the hopes that she’d pick up on this work blue and say something, but I was beyond the point of caring. I just wanted to leave.

First of all, I didn’t marry any woman like that. Nerina had a character all of her own, including an “emotional” side that she presumably inherited from her Italian mother, but she was never aggressive. Well, not unless I’d done something to really upset her.

However, this house and the description of this woman do sound like someone and somewhere where I stayed a few times twenty-odd years ago, as regular readers of this rubbish in an earlier version will recall, and it didn’t turn out well. The aggressive side of this woman’s character was actually her real character which she kept well-hidden for a while, but she couldn’t keep up the pretence for all that long.

And what’s my brother doing, co-operating with me? That would be an event unique in history.

So going back to this dream about these houses, which I did later, there were several patches that were totally unsuitable but building houses had already begun there. And there was one where the company hall was twice the size of the one in which we’d had this meeting … "which meeting?" – ed … It seemed to be a total waste of space to me. Another one was practically in the middle of a lake with just the foundations bobbing through over the top. They should at least drain the lake and fill it in before they start building. But here, things went on and I didn’t stay there very often at all because the woman who ran it, who was normally a nice woman, had turned bitter and dour over some situation and was making life unpleasant for everyone. But while I was there that very last time, things reached such an extreme that I went into the bedroom, took the valve guides and followers out and did all of the timing. Then I could put the engine back in in exactly the right spot where it would need to fire up. And that way, it would be running from Day One.

So I’m going back to this dream, am I? Does this mean that I’ve missed another one, or is it a reference to the previous dream?

The house in the middle of the lake is interesting. I was looking at one of these street map things on line to see the changes to Shavington, where I lived from 1956 to 1970. And they’ve built houses on a field where we used to play. One thing that I noticed is that there’s a house slap-bang in the position of the old marl pit into which we fell on many an occasion. I wouldn’t like to be living in that house.

And rebuilding engines in the bedroom? I somehow don’t think so.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual to sort out my legs and feet. She was in the usual rush but she told me that tomorrow she’s going to be horribly late. It’s the brocante tomorrow in the old walled town at the back of where I live, so all of the streets are cordoned off. Consequently, she’s going to have to do some of her round on foot, which will take an age.

After she left, I could make breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

He’s continuing his tirade against Roman architecture with such comments as "Roman architecture can only take its stand on the ground of mere vastness and magnificence ; it cannot even claim so high a place as those specimens of cinquecento and debased Gothic, which often exhibit the most perfect grouping combined with the most barbarous detail."

Anyone who has ever stood underneath the Pont du Gard will tell you that it’s the “vastness and magnificence” that is the whole point of it, and the innovation and architecture that went into its design and building are phenomenal. Dismissing all of that in a couple of lines and then using the rest of the chapter to heap scorn upon it is not at all what I was expecting in a book on architecture.

Back in here, there were a few things to do and then I began to edit the next set of radio notes that I’d dictated a good while ago. They are all finished now and I’ll connect everything up the next time that I have a free moment or two.

My faithful cleaner turned up, feeling a little better than she did yesterday. She applied my anaesthetic and made sure that I had everything that I needed at dialysis this afternoon.

And then she gave me a little present. A while back, someone had given her a cutting of basil, so she had reared it in a glass of water. It’s now become a triffid, so she’s taken several cuttings, nurtured tham and now that they have taken root, she’s passed them on to everyone whom she knows, each in its own glass of water.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that it’s always been my intention to grow my own herbs, but I’ve not been able to find the correct size of window box. Now, though, it looks as if I’ve begun anyway.

The taxi was early for me today, which suits me fine. The sooner I start, the sooner I finish. But it was stifling hot in the car and I was almost suffocating. It was a day probably as warm as yesterday, I reckoned, and I was wasting it in dialysis.

When I arrived, I had the long march … "he’s in the new, air-conditioned building" – ed … to my bed via the weighing machine, to find that the nurses were already waiting for me, including the one who always likes to be a human garrot on my arm.

It was nice to be up and running by 14:05 so I could sit back and relax for a while. That wasn’t so easy, though, because the dialysis machine was on the wrong side of the bed and all of the tubes and pipes were going across my chest. I asked them why they hadn’t simply turned the bed around 180°, but the thought had never occurred to them.

So for three hours I relaxed, looked at the news and read some articles on the internet. And every half-hour, the automatic blood pressure machine kicked in, took my blood pressure, sounded the alarm and brought the nurses running. However, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … they needn’t have bothered. Low blood pressure is the norm with me, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall.

It was another heavy session with the machine going full tilt, set at eight hundred and thirty-four millilitres per hour, just sixty-six short of the maximum, and I could tell too because near the end, I began to have the most appalling cramps in my legs and the pain in my foot, which had been missing for almost a week, came back. However, after the startling news of the other day when I was here, the doctor didn’t come back to see me. In fact, I didn’t see a doctor all the time that I was there.

When it was time to disconnect me, the nurses were, for once, ready and waiting. And it was the nurse who always wants to make the garrot who volunteered to compress my arm. I wasn’t complaining at all.

On leaving, I had to carry my own bag, which is really difficult for me as it puts me out of balance, so I was struggling. But a helpful nursing auxiliary spotted me and she took it over.

And then we had the surprise at the exit. There was an ambulance awaiting me, not a taxi. Apparently there were no cars available so it was either an ambulance or a forty-five-minute wait. It didn’t take very long at all for me to make up my mind.

They put me on the stretcher (which was nice and comfortable), strapped me in and put me in the back. Then we set off for home. And what disappointed me more than anything was that they didn’t use the flashing blue lights.

My faithful cleaner was awaiting me, and after I’d climbed off the stretcher, she helped me into the apartment, and I needed the help too after that session of dialysis. She’d also brought a cutting of mint for me, which was lovely of her. My herb garden is expanding before I even have the garden.

After she left, I made tea. Baked potato, vegan salad and burger on a bun with salad dressing, mustard, tomato, cheese and onion. And how delicious was that? My cleaner had also told me that the plants grow best in a bottle. And while the mint was in a bottle, the basil wasn’t. It was in a wine glass. However, there were two bottles of alcohol-free beer in the fridge too, so I decided to empty one of them. And that was delicious too.

Back in here, I began to write my notes but a huge wave of fatigue crept all over me and in the end, I had to abandon the procedure and finish them tomorrow morning. I’m really sorry about this.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about ambulances … "well, one of us has" – ed … a man in Florida once rang up the ambulance station. "Help! I need help urgently. An alligator has just bitten off one of my legs"
The dispatching clerk asks "which one?"
"How do I know?" replied the man. "All these alligators look the same to me."

Sunday 5th July 2026 – WHEN I AWOKE …

… this time, it was 22:25 exactly, and I was feeling almost as bad as I was yesterday. And just like yesterday, the only thing to do when I feel like this is to go to bed. And so, just as yesterday, I hauled myself over to the bed, fully clothed, and that was that. The only difference was that this time, I remembered to close the shutters.

It seems to me that I was definitely asleep even before my head touched the pillow, and there I lay until all of … errr … something like 03:00. Really, I’ve no idea of the exact time but it was after 02:30 because the streetlight on the car park had gone out.

From there, it was another night of drifting in and out of sleep, and which bit was which, I couldn’t really say. There were times when I felt like getting up and times when I was dead to the World.

The whole lot came to a shuddering halt, though, when Isabelle the Nurse arrived and she definitely awoke me. She sorted out my legs and feet and then went off on her travels.

By now, I was wide awake, but I still vegetated in bed for quite a while. Eventually, I went into the kitchen, where the time was showing as 09:28.

The first thing that I did was to bake the croissants. I switched on the oven and while it was warming up, I brushed the croissants with milk. When the oven was ready and warm, I stuck the baking tray with the croissants inside and set the timer to sixteen minutes.

While they were baking, I made my breakfast – porridge, hot black coffee and lovely grapefruit juice to wash down my medication.

When the croissants were done, I stuck two of them on a plate and sat down to eat my food.

While I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Again, he managed to steer clear of controversy, but he’s now beginning to appreciate the Egyptian art that he denied existed at the very beginning. And so we have "And if any forms which might arise in such structures, any groupings of natural objects, or shapes given to artificial ones, appeared to the artist to be adapted for his purpose, they would be as unhesitatingly transferred to the excavated rock as flowers, fruit, and leaves, or representations of human and animal life."

Back in here, I began work on finishing off the notes from yesterday when I fell asleep, and now they are online, ready for your perusal.

After that, we had football, Greenock Morton v Stranraer in a friendly. And you could tell that this was Morton’s first game because they looked slow and lethargic. And as they tired, Stranraer came more and more into the game and gave them a few frights. Although Stranraer are two divisions lower than Morton, they looked much sharper. After all, this is their fourth friendly so far.

The final score was 0-0 and Stranraer definitely earned it.

Next was the dictaphone, and I was absolutely astonished by how far I’d travelled during the night.

I decided that I would go on a one-man campaign against the ridiculous amounts of overspending in Parliament, so I had to think of a way in which I was going to do this. By some kind of happy coincidence, the door into the Prime Minister’s office was open, so I just walked in to where he was sitting and told him about these stupid expenses that I’d discovered. I took his newspaper away from him to highlight some of the major problems. Anyway, I walked off with the newspaper and began to make a list from inside about what I could read of it that affected what I’m doing. When I’d finished, I went back into the office and down past all of the people to where he was sitting and took his next newspaper from him. This time, I stayed there and pointed out all of these expenses in this. We found maybe a dozen pages about the household pets in Buckingham Palace. He was horrified when he saw that one of the cats was actually receiving in food and treatment and all that kind of thing – more money than he was earning. I thought that this might shake him into doing something, but instead, he took the newspaper back and had me thrown out of his office.

This dream doesn’t seem to relate to anything that’s been going on anywhere, especially when I recognised the prime minister as David Cameron. I do, however, have to say that if ever I were in a position in Buckingham Palace, the first thing that I would do is to have some auditors in and let them go through the entire Royal Household accounts to trim out as much unnecessary spending as would be possible. Even without investigating and just looking at news articles, I can identify millions of Pounds of wasted money.

There was also something about me coming out of Wistaston Road, crossing over Edleston Road there at the traffic lights by Oak Street. There were a couple of other people there, young boys, who were teasing each other about the places where they worked.

This crossing is one that I know intimately, having crossed over here on numerous occasions. And with several of the offices that used to be down there in the good old days, I can understand why people would be teasing each other about their work.

My brother was trying to run a disco or something and wanted to know where he could get some loudspeakers from. He’d been looking through the newspaper, the Evening Sentinel, but couldn’t find anything. He didn’t think that there was anyone in the area. I told him about a company called “BOSS” that had an office in Hanley and sold hi-fi equipment, speakers and all that kind of thing, so off he went. He came back a little later with someone from the company, whom he showed around and downstairs and upstairs in his bedroom. Eventually, the guy from there sold him something, which we thought was rather crazy but my brother was determined on having them

BOSS is an American company so they aren’t likely to have a branch in Hanley, and opinions on their products are very varied. One thing is for sure, though, and that is that my brother could never afford anything that they are likely to sell.

Somewhere in this dream … "which dream?" – ed … was something about one of my garages and all the mess that was in it and the car spare parts, old cars and everything all over the place. It really did look a mess. I thought that one day, I’m going to have to get down and tidy this, or leave it for my heirs to sort out

This is another recurring dream – the old cars and spare parts stashed in lock-up garages. It used to be true, too, back in the old days before I came to live abroad. Not so much now, although my barn down on the farm could do with a good going-over one of these days.

We were staying somewhere in the country, in one of these big country houses where there was some kind of weekend organised. We were there on the Saturday night when two masked men burst in and held us all at gunpoint while they took all of the jewellery and valuables and everything like that. They put them into two sacks, one of which was a red sack. As they were leaving, my brother and I leaped out of the window outside and confronted the robbers. We managed to overpower one and put him on the ground. He was the one carrying the red sack but the other one got away.

The chances of my brother and I actively co-ordinating a joint plan would be about zero. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we don’t actually get on very well with each other and haven’t done for about thirty years, if not more.

Later on, Nerina and I were wandering around North London somewhere. We were on our way to the bank or the post office and had gone past the local cemetery and looked inside, which was magnificent. Then I suddenly remembered about these attackers. There was one person in our crowd who was one of these public school-types and I didn’t like him at all, so I said to Nerina that we ought to go round and have a chat with him to see what he could tell us. She said that he was ill and couldn’t be disturbed. I said “I bet you £500 that he’s the guy – the other guy for whom we’re looking”. We walked around on our way to the post office and came across this big place called “The Soho Curry Hut” with queues outside, so we went to have a look. It was selling a meal of curry for £2:50, a ladle of rice for £2:50, that kind of thing. I thought that this would be a lovely place to come for a meal one night, so we went to have a close look at it and a close look at the menu.

The cemetery reminded me of the big one in Montmartre, the Cimetière de Montmartre when Nerina and I were there very early one morning, looking around before the morning rush hour began. But the curry house sounds really interesting. I could do with a really good curry right now, I must admit.

As for the public school guy, and I can still see his house, a tidy cottage in the countryside, just like something out of an AGATHA CHRISTIE FILM. I’ve no idea why I fingered him as a likely suspect, but it would all seem to fit.

And how many times is that just recently that I’ve been in North London during the night?

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 have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I am extremely grateful when someone uses them to make a purchase

Later on, I knocked off to go and make some bread. I was reminded of a chat that I had a few years ago with a friend about the crusts of bread on a loaf, and I had a little theory, so I decided to try it. Instead of going with 190°C for five minutes and then 180°C for thirty minutes, I went with 200°C for eight minutes and 180°C for thirty-five minutes. And sure enough, there’s a lovely thick dark crust on the finished product.

Back in here, I had a few things to do, but the next thing that I remembered was that it was 20:41. I’d crashed right out without even realising it. It’s a good job that I don’t drive any more, isn’t it?

So now that I’ve finished my notes, I’ll just do the stats and backing up and then go to bed, ready for dialysis tomorrow … "I don’t think" – ed …

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about bread … "well, one of us has" – ed … the local priest was out and about having a walk when he met a parishioner coming towards him, carrying a baguette in one hand. His other hand was slouched lazily in his pocket.
"Ahh" exclaimed the priest. "Here you are, coming towards me on this nice Sunday morning, with the staff of life in your hand."
"Well, yes, Father. "
"And pray, what is it that you have in your other hand?"
"A baguette, Father."

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."

Saturday 27th June 2026 – FIRST SATURDAY BACK …

… at dialysis, and it wasn’t as ghastly as I was expecting. I mean, any time that I spend in a hospital or clinic and not at home is quite ghastly, but I reckon that I’ll survive this, one way or another.

After all, if I have survived all of these nights just recently, I must be doing something right, I suppose. It ended up being another late night going to bed but what helped in some way was having taken an antibiotic before retiring. Bizarrely, I didn’t have one single cough during all of the night.

However, that’s not everything, though. I awoke at about 03:20, for no particular reason that I could see, and then afterwards, I just couldn’t seem to go back to sleep. I just lay there, watching the clock go round and round and hearing the waste lorry come for the waste paper at 05:25 and I remember thinking “I may as well get up in a minute”.

The next thing that I remember, though, was the alarm going off at 06:29 as usual. I must have gone back to sleep.

It took the usual Age for me to gather up my wits, gird up my loins and then head for the bathroom. A good wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, and then into the kitchen for my medication. The last Saturday of the month, so there are eleven to take this morning. But that’s still a far cry from when it was 32 over the whole day.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what had gone on during the night.

There had been some kind of party taking place at our house so I had to move all of my LPs somewhere because we needed the room. After everyone had gone, Nerina began to sort out one or two LPs, but I just looked around at how depressing everything was, covered in crumbs, empty plates, and half-eaten sandwiches. I said to her “before you get those out, can we just clear this mess here that’s covering the table?”. “But there’s nothing there” she replied, so I told her exactly what I could see. She just made some kind of dismissive gesture and walked away. I didn’t know what was the matter with her. I hadn’t even asked her to clear the things away. I just thought that it was the next thing that we should be doing.

Quite often in the past, I’d be confused by the signals that Nerina was sending out. That’s the problem when you live with people of different cultures – they don’t react as you would expect. I know that at times, Laurence had problems understanding some of my reactions, but that’s no surprise because so did I at times.

When Isabelle the Nurse arrived, she allowed me into the kitchen to have my treatment and talked about the foot race that’s taking place this evening. Apparently, one of her daughters is taking part in it. And so, too, is one of the nurses from dialysis.

After she left, I made breakfast and while I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

And look at this for a bunch of mid-nineteenth-century jingoism. "What is the whole history of the East, the countless dynasties of China, India, and Egypt, with all their vast dominions, their early civilisation, and their fixed and ancient institutions, but a barren catalogue of kings, and priests, and conquerors, when it is viewed side by side with one living and stirring page of Greece, or Rome, or mediaeval Europe? One word from one man in a little town of Greece or Italy had ofttimes more effect on the future destinies of the human race than all the laws and victories of a thousand Shahs or Pharaohs."

And there’s much more in that vein too. Much, much more.

Once breakfast was over, I came back in here to carry on with the radio notes, and I am pleased to say that they are now complete and ready for dictation. In fact, there are piles of stuff that need dictating, but I’m really going to have to wait until this cough is completely gone before I try anything. It’ll end up being a total mess if I don’t … "so what’s new?" – ed …

Round about midday I went off to make myself ready for dialysis, when I was met by my cleaner coming in to fix my anaesthetic. We quickly organised ourselves, except that although I remembered the midday medication, I forgot the disgusting drink. I don’t know what’s the matter with me these days.

After she left, I had to wait for the taxi, which was a few minutes late. And it was the driver who used to always take me at one time, whom I haven’t seen for ages. I was his only passenger so we had a good chat all the way down to dialysis.

Once more, I was put into the new building up the hill, but not in a single room, unfortunately. They also have a ward with four beds in it and a side ward leading off that has two beds. I was in one of the beds in the side ward today.

However, I felt sorry for those in the main room. There was a woman in there who had had a very bad fall earlier in the day and was in absolute agony all through the session. She was screaming and doing all kinds of things, and it must have been very off-putting for those around her.

They told me that I only had to do three hours today, which is better than four, I suppose. And as there wasn’t much weight to lose, it was more like a leisurely stroll rather than a maximum effort flat-out affair. That suited me even better.

In any case, I was hardly bothered at all throughout the whole afternoon, which was even better. I was actually unplugged at 17:15 too, being one of the earliest to leave, so I was back here at 18:00.

It was the same driver who brought me home, and he handed me over to my faithful cleaner who helped me into my apartment.

After she had sorted me out and left, I made myself a sandwich. However, I only just about managed to eat it because, once more, it tasted of nothing but salt. My taste buds are all in a total mess since chemotherapy last autumn.

So now, I’m back in here finishing off my notes, ready so that I can go to bed. I’ve promised myself another Sunday lie-in but we shall have to see, as I’m not feeling very optimistic about that these days – at least, until I’ve finished this second course of antibiotics, and then “only just”?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about jingoism … "well, one of us has" – ed … some of the worst jingoism these days comes from the other side of the Atlantic.
A few years ago, there was a Texan in a pub in Chester going on about how rubbish he thought the UK was. "I reckon that the Uk is the asshole of the world" he bawled.
"That’s right" said another customer "and I suppose that you are just passing through."

Friday 26th June 2026 – ANOTHER MISERABLE DAY …

… now over and done with, and I’m ready (I suppose) for an even more miserable day tomorrow.

Yet last night, it all had the air of sounding really good. I crawled into bed listening to the sound of the thunder and lightning and fell asleep quite quickly, thinking to myself “here comes a lovely day tomorrow”. But it wasn’t like that at all.

Firstly, I was awake quite quickly – before midnight, I reckon, but certainly without enough time to have been fully relaxed. And from there, I drifted in and out of sleep for quite some time. However, when the alarm went off, I was absolutely fast asleep.

At that point, when I awoke, I was feeling dreadful and it took me a while to haul myself out of bed. I went into the bathroom to organise myself, which took an age, and then came back in here, where there were plenty of things to do before Isabelle the Nurse arrived.

When she turned up, I was flat out, asleep in my chair, but today I was allowed into the kitchen for my treatment. She asked how I was feeling, to which I replied “dreadful”, and she probably agreed.

After she finished, she turned to me and said “you go and have a rest”, as if I needed any second bidding. By this time, I really wasn’t coping. So I went back into the bedroom, set the alarm for 11:30 and crawled back into bed.

It would have been a good sleep too had it not been for the spam ‘phone calls and all of that nonsense. I could really have done without that. But when the alarm did go off, I was feeling slightly better. Only “very slightly”.

Eventually I was able to stagger into the kitchen, where I began to make breakfast – at this crazy time.

While I was eating, I was reading my new book – A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman. When I say “new”, it was new in 1849, I suppose.

And once more, it’s full of endless introduction containing subservient prose – "This division of the subject, coinciding nearly with the First Part of the First Book, will be found, I am afraid, not very satisfactorily treated. It was a wearisome task, as I had to search through volume after volume containing copious dissertations on the antiquities of the different nations referred to," etc. – and also piles of incestuous flattery – "Detail has been already sufficiently treated of in several works, all of which have their use, while no popular work — unless the thoughtful and truly original volumes of Mr Petit can be ranked under that head — has yet paid much attention to the former." etc.

There is also, would you believe, a lengthy monologue on whether it is proper to talk about the architecture of peoples who were not Christian? Apparently, we should only consider art and architecture if it were designed by Christians. The rest should be considered unworthy of discussion. That’s probably the strangest thing that I have read so far.

Back in here, I transcribed the dictaphone notes to find out what had gone on during the night.

This dream involved one of my old Ford Cortinas, the red and black one that I had at one time. The idea was that we would be selling it and then going out for a day to ameliorate ourselves and let down our hair for a while. But we were talking about which, if we had much of a morning… fell asleep here … and my part of the handrail was pretty full with different things and I couldn’t really hold it up. I was beginning to have some real struggle with this and seeking a different if no-one comes along to help me on the other side, it’s going to be real … fell asleep here …

This looks to me as if it’s two dreams merged into one. I did actually have a red and black MkIV Cortina but it never introduced any words in French into my dreams, but it seems that the “falling asleep caused me to change tack somewhere along the line until I lost everything.

I was in Montlucon last night, experimenting with some kind of epoxy floor. It came in a block of something and there were thinners with it. You heated it up and added the thinners and then quite simply poured it on the floor, where it made a clear, epoxy kind of surface. Many people were buying this and putting pictures on the floor of their bathrooms and then pouring this epoxy fluid over the top or were using river cobbles to make a nice stone-looking surface and then pour epoxy over the top of that to bind everything in. I was on the north side of the town, the poorer end, and going into various places trying to find something to go with this floor. I was starting to notice just how intuitive it had become.

It looks here as if I’ve hit upon a new money-making plan. This sounds like a fabulous invention and I wish that I knew how to set about it.

I was with Nerina and Auntie Mary last night and were somewhere in North Wales. The idea was that we were going to put markings on ourselves to represent Native Americans. I had a lot of things like that so I brought them out so that people could help themselves. But no-one seemed to be interested in the authentic, genuine stuff that I was applying to my vehicle and myself, etc., and that was making me extremely disappointed. It ended up being an enormous row between me and several other people, and I had to go to wander away to calm down. We were in Caernarfon at this particular moment so I went for a walk around the village and saw the big modern bridge being built. Then I came back to tell everyone what I’d seen. They were all immediately interested in that, so much … fell asleep here … Anyway, then we were in a kind of supermarket and I was looking at the knives because I wanted a sharp knife for peeling vegetables. Nerina came over for a chat and so did Aunt Mary, who said that she had seen one with a crowbar on the top. That sounded quite exciting so she sent me to the alley where I began to look for the crowbar … fell asleep here … Aunt Mary said that she had seen a knife that had a kind of crowbar on top. I thought that that sounded interesting so we began to search through the range of knives to see if this crowbar one was there.

What a mess this dream was. I still don’t have a decent vegetable knife, I suppose, but where does “disguising oneself as a Native American” fit in with all of this?

As for a knife with a crowbar on top, I’m still trying to work this one out. I can’t even picture it.

From there, I began to make the preparations to finally start work. However, when my faithful cleaner arrived half an hour later to do her stuff, I was flat out again, fast asleep on my chair.

Her arrival, complete with the antibiotics from the pharmacy, galvanised me into action and I watched the rest of the East Fife v Queen of the South game that I’d started, and then I began to write the rest of the notes for the radio programme.

Unfortunately, I ran out of time with just two notes to write, as yet another problem cropped up elsewhere that needed my attention. And once it was resolved, it was too late to carry on. So I relaxed for a few minutes and then made myself ready for bed

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about crashing out … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of my friends used to boast "I always fall asleep by counting the number of girls I’ve taken to bed."
"What about counting sheep?" I asked him
"Ohh, shut up" he said. "I told you before – it was only that one time, and I was drunk anyway."

Tuesday 23rd June 2026 – IT HAS BEEN …

… slightly cooler today than yesterday. In fact, the temperature barely struggled up to 41.5°C, according to the thermometer sender outside, and that’s impressive. Inside my room, with the windows wide open and the fan going full-tilt, it was barely 29°C at one point.

Yes, we’ve had worse than that.

Not that any of it did me much good.

As I mentioned in my last post, I was in bed just after 20:00, hoping for an early night and a good sleep, but some hopes!

It was too hot to sleep without the fan and too noisy to sleep with the fan, and so in the end, after much binding in the marsh, I decided that the coolness was the way to go. I lay awake all night, and I mean “all night”, too, listening to the fan and watching the light coming round the edges of the shutters, changing from light to dark and then slowly back to light again.

At round about 02:00, I had another mega-coughing fit which led to several bouts of vomiting, so many that in fact I lost count. It’s becoming really bad, this. Let’s see what the doctor’s prescription can do about this later.

When the alarm went off, I went in search of my clothes that had somehow become scattered around the apartment and then went to start work, such as I felt like doing.

There was no need to check the dictaphone for dreams. If you can’t go to sleep, you can’t dream. And it was probably the effect of this new family who appeared from nowhere working on my farm and driving my old Kubota B-1220 tractor that put me off everything.

Never mind, though, there were still plenty of other things to do to take me up to Isabelle the Nurse’s arrival time so I wasn’t bored.

When she turned up, she insisted on treating me in my bedroom which was the wrong thing to do. And she appeared in her short skirt and tee-shirt in concession to the weather, which was already at 30°C outside.

She talked about nothing very much, and after she left, I began to think about breakfast but instead saw this lovely, long, comfortable bed. That decided it for me – I switched the alarm on for 11:15 and hit the hay.

And dream? Didn’t I just dream. Hordes of hallucinations fleeting across my brain from right to left, far too many to notice and to record. From just trying to save one, I ended up with none at all and that was rather desperate.

For some reason, I was up at about 11:00 and at that point began to make a very desultory start on yesterday’s notes. Here and there, doing bits and pieces while I could in between bouts of falling asleep. But eventually, it was the sleep that won.

My faithful cleaner awoke me when she arrived. It’s shower day today of course, and I can’t postpone it yet again. I’ll be picked up on radar everywhere I go, so I reluctantly headed that way. And it was much less difficult than I imagined and I felt like a new man afterwards.

She helped me out and I dried myself and found some new clothes to wear. This is more like it.

After she left, I carried on with yesterday’s notes and now they are on line, at long last.

But then I had some very bad news from Canada.

My faithful sidekick Cujo the Killer Cat crossed the Rainbow Bridge last night. She was adopted as a tiny kitten twenty-odd years ago and even when I last saw her, three or so years ago, she was in the best of health, teaching the new kitten to hunt and catch mice.

However, her age finally caught up with her yesterday, and that was a real shame. She might have been quite violent and aggressive with the local wildlife, but I always found her cute and sweet.

Once I’d digested the news, I went back to bed for a couple of hours. I was that tired again. This has been a horrible day all together.

But now I’m awake again, but not for long. I’ll sort out my evening medication and then I’m going back to bed, and I don’t care. I’ve had no food either but I’d rather be asleep than eating anything. If I have a good sleep tonight, I’ll feel so much better.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about showers … "well, one of us has" – ed … I once sent Nerina to a health farm for a week, where she had one of these super-duper showers.
The next day, she rang me to tell me about it. "You, know, it was amazing. I’m feeling a new woman after that."
"Feeling a new woman?" I mused. "It’s funny you should mention that …"

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."

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."

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?"

Thursday 30th April 2026 – TODAY HAS BEEN …

… a somewhat better day, at least, for the most part. I’ve also accomplished more than I accomplished yesterday too, even though there were only two hours in which to do any work.

Last night, I began to write out my notes at about 19:30, but even so, it took quite a while to complete them and then do everything else that needed doing. I don’t suppose that I was in bed much before 21:30.

It took another few minutes to drop off to sleep, but I awoke, following another coughing fit, at some unearthly time of the morning. I didn’t check the time but I do remember debating with myself whether to leave the bed in order to go to walk the parapet. However, the decision was taken out of my hands, as I must have fallen asleep at that point.

Somewhat later, I awoke again, with no need to debate the situation. I did check the time this time, and it was 04:43. THis made me think about staying up and dictating some radio notes, but how can you debate when you are being wracked by fits of coughing? Instead, I climbed back under the quilt where I fell asleep again.

When the alarm went off, I was with my former friend from Stoke on Trent. We had my LDV on a trailer that was being pulled by something. We were round at his house, although it was nothing like his house. It was a terraced house in one of the better classes of terraces with a front garden, something like in Alton Street near the old petrol station. Anyway, this guy and someone else had to go to a meeting, which was in one of the houses a little way down the street. When they went to this meeting, someone opened the door, and I could see the wall decoration, which was blue, black and white, and it looked terrible but they went in. I went back to the LDV and I had to walk around the vehicle on the trailer. Someone shouted from a distance “are you fat?” so I just ignored them. By this time, I had over my shoulder my travelling bag with my clothes, etc. in it. When I came round to the back of the vehicle, it was no longer the LDV but a Land Rover. There was some kind of big machine sitting on the tailgate so I picked up the machine, which was fairly heavy, and went up into the guy’s house. Once inside, I wiped my feet on the doormat and went to install myself on a chair in the kitchen with this machine and my clothes bag. But when the alarm went off, I was somewhere on foot down some kind of motorway somewhere but I don’t know where and I don’t know why.

My LDV was a strange van. It was good when I bought it, but I couldn’t find any spare parts at all for it over here. In the end, the join between the roof and one of the sides rusted through, which might not have been so bad had I not had a big roof rack on it, on which I carried huge loads of wood.

And I reckon that I’ve told the story of my former friend often enough that it doesn’t bear repeating.

As usual, it took me a while to summon up the courage and the energy to leave the bedroom, and after a stagger into the bathroom to have a wash and a shave, in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, I went into the kitchen for my medication. Today, as it’s dialysis, I washed it down with just a mouthful of grapefruit juice.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what else went on during the night.

I had to go somewhere in my van and meet a few of my friends in a nearby town. I had a huge load of computers with me, eight notebooks and three ordinary laptops. I arrived at the place where we were meeting, which was next door to a bar. We had a chat about a few things, which included registering for health insurance so we ordered that. I was astonished to notice that I was registered n°1. There was some work to do on the van and then we walked down to the place where we were meeting our friends. He mentioned something about a load of grain to pick up from the side of the road somewhere up in the mountains. I almost set out but realised that I’d left the computers on the edge of the road so I had to go back for them. Then, I drove off into the hills, but I couldn’t see this pile of grain anywhere. In the end, I came back and told them about the pile of grain that I couldn’t find. The conversation carried on, and we saw a few people go into the bar next door, including two old women carrying guitars. Our host brought out three cans of beer and told us to choose one, two of one make and one of another. I chose the one on its own, but I couldn’t take the label off the backing plastic, no matter how I tried. It wouldn’t come off. And then we carried on talking about the grain. I realised that I would have to go back for it, but even if I found it, I wouldn’t be able to load it in because there was nothing in the van to help me do that. But first, I had to go to find it, so I set out, drove a hundred yards, suddenly realised that the computers were on the edge of the street again so I went back for them and put them in the van.

This is another one of those dreams that means nothing to me. There are in fact three notebooks and probably half a dozen laptops hanging around here, of which three or four laptops are probably working. And I haven’t drunk any beer for probably about thirty-five years.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual. She gave me a little weather forecast, sorted out my legs and feet, and then left as rapidly as she had arrived. I made my breakfast and then read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today, we’re discussing the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, at least in Britain. And while he has his dates slightly mixed up, he’s steering clear so far of any controversial discussion.

Back in here, I had a few things to finish off and then I attacked the radio programme. By the time I was ready to knock off, all of the music had been segued and I’d written over three quarters of the notes. That’s some good going.

My cleaner came in to help me with the anaesthetic, and then I had to wait for the ambulance. It was a minute or two early, but there was someone else to pick up en route.

Even so, I was early arriving. And for a change, they seem to be a little more clued-up in there, as they have now put me in the bed nearest the door rather than the one farthest away. There are still beds nearer than where I was put, but “baby steps”.

Once again, I was down at my dry weight as I entered, and, in a big surprise, I was one of the first seen to, too. As there was nothing to extract, they had a series of discussions amongst themselves which resulted in the extraction amount being changed three times.

They left me alone for most of the session, which was good news, and I was also one of the first to be unplugged. The nurse who attended to me told me that the results from Friday had not yet arrived, hence the delay in telling me. And weighing myself on leaving, there’s just one kilo to go before I reach my sporty weight, although I don’t feel very sporty right now.

The taxi wasn’t there, so I had to wait ten minutes, which meant that I wasn’t at home as early as I would have liked. But after my cleaner had helped me in and left, I came back in here to write up my notes.

Now, I’ll be off to bed in a few moments, with a day of comparative rest before me, as my cleaner has decided to have a day off tomorrow, with it being a Bank Holiday over here.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about losing weight … "well, one of us has" – ed … I remember when Nerina went on one of these weight-loss diets.
"How’s it going, dear?" I asked her
"Great" she replied. "In three weeks, I’ve lost 6 kilos."
"You keep it up, dear" I told her. "In another thirty weeks, you’ll be gone completely."

Wednesday 29th April 2026 – SO RIGHT NOW …

… even though it’s not quite 19:30, I’m starting to write my notes ready … "he hopes" – ed … for an early night.

After last night’s slightly better … "and only slightly, too" – ed … night, I’m determined to try to push on and try to capitalise on any sign of slight improvement.

Last night, there didn’t seem to be much sign of improvement. It ended up being later than I imagined and had in fact gone past 21:30 when I finally snuggled down into my nice, clean bed and although it took, once more, longer than usual to drop off, I was well out of it.

At one point I did actually wake up, thanks to another coughing fit. Whatever time it was, I have no idea because I didn’t bother to look. I went to walk the parapet, coughing continually as I went, and back in bed afterwards, the coughing fit continued and increased in intensity so that, once more, I was violently sick.

Eventually, though, I fell into that one position where I don’t seem to cough and went off quite quickly to sleep. And I remember nothing more until the alarm went off at 06:29. That was what I meant about the “improvement”.

In the bedroom, I sorted myself out and then went into the kitchen, where I made my hot drink to wash down the medication. Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

I was at a party somewhere. It was one of these things where there had been a festival and campsite, and everyone was in a barn having something of a good time. However, I decided to go for a walk and found myself in the nearest town. I went into the bar there to have a coffee but although the bar was busy, it seemed that the guy who was behind the bar was just sitting there doing nothing. I had to shout at him three times, but he still didn’t give me a coffee. In the end, one of the waiters who had been serving in the room came behind the bar and he served me with a coffee. He told me the price, but I only had a €50:00 note so that became rather complicated. But I was chatting to someone at the bar there, and rather later, we went for another walk around the town. By now, it was somewhere in Russia, I reckoned. As we walked, looking through everywhere, we came across a garage. The garage had several cars in there, including a green MkIII Cortina, P-registered, and they were all right-hand drive. I asked the guy with me why the garage had all of these British cars and not any European ones, say, from Germany that were left-hand drive but he didn’t really know the answer. In the end, I walked back to the barn. It was not far short of midnight. Everyone was still having a good time so I just walked in, chatted to a few people and just reintegrated myself back into the party.

This was an enormous barn, with loads of people in it, but it would be just like me to opt out of a party and go for a walk around the nearby town. Meeting strangers in bars is, however, most unlike me. As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, it’s not like me to be sociable.

Finding Ford Cortinas in Moscow would be unlikely, although Nerina and I almost managed to take a Mk IV Cortina estate into the USSR, but that’s yet another story that the World is not yet ready to hear.

However, there is an actual story about something like that. Did you ever wonder why you never saw many second-hand Ladas on sale at the Lada garages in the UK back in the early nineties? When Percy Penguin and I were skiing in Bulgaria in the early nineties, we saw several right-hand drive Ladas with Bulgarian plates. It turned out that Lada could obtain a better price for a second-hand Lada back in Eastern Europe so those that their garages were buying back were simply shipped out there.

Later on, I was moving a load of things down to Virlet and began to stack them in the barn. There weren’t all that many things, mostly large objects, so I just packed them in any old how and just left them there. Later, I had to take some more things down, and when I arrived in Virlet, I remembered how I had stacked it the last time and there was no real room for these things now so I had to think about totally rearranging everything that was in the barn so that I could find room to fit these in. However, I thought that this was going to take me a very, very long time, particularly with the things that I had thrown in and were blocking the steps up and over, this kind of thing.

We seem to be spending a lot of time in Virlet just recently. And describing the state of the barn as “utter chaos” is not too far wide of the mark. Not that the house is much better.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual this morning and although she chatted a lot, she didn’t really say anything. After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today, we’re discussing the Roman system of governance, and it seems that reality might be beginning to hit home with our author.

We mentioned a few days ago about his putting all his trust in the “works of Richard of Cirencester”, unmasked as a fake at least one hundred and sixty years ago. Today, in this chapter, we are starting to see hiù quoting more and more from the “Notitia Imperii” of the late fifth century instead of the aforementioned.

And tucked away in a little paragraph a few pages in, we find him making a mention of the “single and dubious authority of Richard of Cirencester”. So, after all of the research that he’s carried on to arrive so far into the book, he’s now becoming less and less convinced of the authority of Richard’s book.

Something else that is quite interesting too is that he’s uncovered a few memorial tables where some of the names, usually of disgraced Roman emperors, have been chiselled away. He asks "How often have we, in modern times, seen a name cast out with loathing, which yesterday received the incense of a world’s flattery?". So nothing seems to have changed, even in our modern World where statues are being continually toppled.

Back in here, I had a few things to do, and then I had a little “relax” before starting work, but I didn’t start for long as Liz messaged me for a chat. We ended up having a Rosemaryesque chat that went on for ever. Not, of course, that I’m complaining because it’s really nice to talk to friends.

After that, my Welsh group and I had a delightful chat for half an hour as one of our members produced the photos of her new baby, born a few days ago. We all gushed and cooed as you might expect, but we have to show our respects to the new arrival.

Not to be outdone, Rosemary called me too, and we just had a very brief chat today, only one hour and forty-eight minutes. There are a lot of issues going on right now round by where she lives.

At some point during the afternoon, I tried a new departure. When I went for my disgusting drink break and early afternoon break, I made myself a taco roll with cheese and salad. I hadn’t forgotten about the cheese sandwich issue from yesterday evening, so I thought that I’d give things a little try, to see if I could keep at least some food down. We’ll see how it goes.

After all of that, I finally managed to start the radio programme, and I’ve chosen all of the music, tracked down what I needed … "and that wasn’t as easy as it might have been, either" – ed … reformatted, re-edited and remixed it. I’ll have to see how far I can go with everything else tomorrow morning before dialysis.

But right now, I’m off to bed in the hope of having another improved sleep tonight.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the USSR … "well, one of us has" – ed … while I was walking around Moscow with this guy from the bar, I asked him "why is it that Soviet policemen always go round in threes?"
"That’s easy" he replied. "The first one can read, the second one can write, and the third one is there to keep an eye on the bourgeois intellectuals."

Friday 28th April 2026 – RIGHT NOW, IT’S …

… just about 20:08 and I’ve just awoken after crashing out on my chair for a little over half an hour. Not that it’s a surprise, because I’ve worked really hard today, even if I didn’t feel in the least like it. And that’s no surprise either, after the night that I had last night.

Yesterday, I started to write my notes quite quickly and managed to keep on going relentlessly for quite a while. It was a few minutes after 21:00 when I had finished what needed to be finished, and I reckon that by 21:15, I was under the covers in the comparative comfort and warmth of my bed.

It took, as usual, a few minutes to doze off, but unfortunately not for long. I had a dream at about 23:00, according to the timestamp of the recording, and I awoke not long afterwards with another dramatic fit of coughing.

And there I lay yet again, watching the room go round and round until I felt the need to leave the bed to go to walk the parapet. At that point, I checked the time. It was 06:04 – 25 minutes before the alarm.

Back in here, I sat on the edge of the bed until the alarm sounded, and then it took me about ten minutes to summon up the courage to go to the bathroom for a good wash, etc.

In the kitchen, I made my hot lemon, ginger and honey drink to wash down my medication and then came back in here to find out where I’d been during the night.

During the night, I ordered an album online and it finally turned up. At first, it didn’t sound right at all, but then when I took a close look at it, I found that the tracks that I was hoping to hear were originally written by another group and recorded by them. These were the ones that were on this album instead of hearing the ones that I knew, which were on a different one. Consequently, I stayed to listen to them before I made up my mind whether I would accept this album because of its strangeness and its rarity value

What album would this be? I can think of many albums with songs by artists or groups that have been recorded by others and gone on to become much more famous. Eric Clapton reinterpreted probably half a dozen songs by JJ Cale, such as “Cocaine” and “After Midnight”, and Colosseum’s live version of ROPE LADDER TO THE MOON is much better than any way Jack Bruce used to play it.

There was a lot going on with Hawkwind too, but it was after I’d awoken so I can’t make up my mind whether it was a dream or a daydream. It involved three Hawkwind songs, biographies of two Hawkwind members who had very unhappy lives, and a girl aged about ten or eleven sitting in an office colouring a book, obviously on a school break with nowhere to go except to daddy’s work. But when discussing the third song, I awoke bolt-upright (something that I haven’t done for several weeks) so I must have been asleep at that point.

There’s always a place for Hawkwind on my playlist, whether awake or asleep, but I wonder what the rest of the dream has to do with it.

Isabelle the Nurse blew in as usual, full of joie de vivre after her week’s break. She asked me about how things went, so I told her about Friday and how much I hated it. And in her joyful manner, but with a glint in her eys that was far from joyful, she gave me a lecture about how important it is to follow medical recommendations. Much as I like her, I wouldn’t like to be one of her children.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today, we’ve been discussing the household and the finds that have occurred at various places all over the country. It all points to an easy, comfortable life but I bet that in all honesty, the lower classes had nothing like any of these artefacts and their life was a constant struggle.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then I had to revise for my Welsh. The lesson passed really well, which is nice. I need to keep on with all of this revision because it is making things better. And as an aside, my homework was described as “a masterpiece”. Seriously.

At the half-time break, I put the washing machine on with a pile of clothes for washing, seeing as I’m beginning to run out here. I didn’t bring many clothes with me from the farm.

After the lesson, I sorted out the bathroom and then my cleaner came along to shoo me under the shower. I didn’t feel in the least like it, but I persevered, and it really was a weary me who steered himself back in here afterwards.

While I’d been in the shower, my cleaner had changed the bedding, so this nice, clean me … "well, clean anyway" – ed … will have a nice clean bed in which to sleep tonight.

Once I’d summoned up the energy, which was not easy, I had the radio programme notes to write. And by the time that I knocked off, they had all been written, all ten of them. No wonder I crashed out afterwards – that was no mean feat, especially when I’m feeling as shattered as I am.

So right now, I’m off to bed and to sleep, if my coughing fits will let me. No food yet again, although I’m starting to see visions of cheese sandwiches. That means that there’s an appetite still lurking around somewhere.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Hawkwind … "well, one of us has" – ed … Nerina once took me to a Hawkwind concert at Keele University for my birthday.
When the group came onto the stage, she dashed to the front, like most kids do (she was several years younger than me).
After a while, she came to find me at the back of the room. "Why don’t you come down to the front? The view’s so much better there" she said.
"That’s as maybe" I replied "but the smell is so much better at the back, hey, man."

EPIC HALL

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

Tag Archives: Nerina Hall

Monday 20th July 2026 – NOT ANOTHER MARATHON …

Sunday 19th July 2026 – WHEN I AWOKE …

Friday 17th July 2026 – AFTER THE DISASTER …

Saturday 11th July 2026 – I CAME HOME …

Sunday 5th July 2026 – WHEN I AWOKE …

Wednesday 1st July 2026 – IT WAS A …

Saturday 27th June 2026 – FIRST SATURDAY BACK …

Friday 26th June 2026 – ANOTHER MISERABLE DAY …

Tuesday 23rd June 2026 – IT HAS BEEN …

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

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

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

Thursday 30th April 2026 – TODAY HAS BEEN …

Wednesday 29th April 2026 – SO RIGHT NOW …

Friday 28th April 2026 – RIGHT NOW, IT’S …

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