Tag Archives: no food

Tuesday 5th May 2026 – MARGARET THATCHER ONCE …

… said something along the lines of "anyone can do a good day’s work when they really want to, but a true professional is someone who can do a good day’s work when he doesn’t want to.". It’s not an exact quote, I know, but it was something like it, and after what I have managed to do today, I can call myself a “true professional”.

Not that you would have thought so after yesterday evening. I was definitely feeling at the end of my tether when I was writing up my notes and after having completed everything that needed doing, there was no-one happier than me to be in bed, even if it was approaching 22:00.

As usual, it took a while to drop off, but once I’d gone, I remember nothing whatever until I awoke. I’ve no idea what time it was, but it was still dark and the electric water heater was still on. Surprisingly, I was lying on my back which, although it’s my favourite position, it’s the one where I cough the most – and I wasn’t coughing. Consequently, I lay there like that for what remained of the night until the alarm went off. It wasn’t long.

Once I’d moved to sit on the edge of the bed, that’s when the coughing began in earnest, and it’s kept on going like that throughout the day, even to now.

It took an age for me to find the energy to rise up from the bed and to stagger into the bathroom. And even then, I couldn’t move from the bathroom chair for quite a while. Consequently, I was quite late arriving in the kitchen.

And then I had a bright idea. Back in the bad old days in Leuven when, at times, I could hardly move, I was living on these high energy caffeine drinks. There are still a few knocking around here so I took one of those with my medication in an effort to kickstart my day.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night, but to my dismay, the recorder was empty. Instead, I did a few other bits and pieces until the nurse arrived.

He was quite early today after his week off. He asked me how things went during the week, so I told him. And he was astonished about the dramatic steps that they took at dialysis yesterday. He was a former dialysis nurse himself in the past.

After he left, I made breakfast and read the last of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

His pages on the Celts and the Saxons were somewhat disappointing, and his Roman work, whilst very thorough and complete, relied too much on the forged “works of Richard of Cirencester”, and his own personal assumptions, being forcefully put, have quite often turned out after modern research and discovery, to be totally inaccurate.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then I revised and prepared my Welsh for the lesson.

We’ve started the last chapter of the book, which is a taster for the final two years of the course, which is supposed to be the A-level part. And if those next two years are going to be anything like this chapter, then God help us all. It rolls along at a frantic pace.

Our teacher gave us some questions to do, and they had my brain breaking out into steam. Little did we all know that they were actually part of an ‘A’ level paper from 2024.

At the end of the lesson, I fell asleep. No surprise there. My cleaner awoke me when she came in to do her stuff, but I declined the offer of a shower. Instead, I went back to sleep.

Whilst I was having a little doze in the afternoon, there was something about someone sending morse code signals. But when I awoke, it was my cleaner cleaning something in the kitchen.

That could have been something exciting had the dream carried on, but instead, I went back to sleep and I missed her departure.

Some time later, after I’d awoken, I decided that I can’t let a day slip by like this, so I had a look at the next radio programme.

And by the time that I knocked off, I’d found all the music, reformatted, re-edited and remixed it, paired and segued it. I’d even written some of the notes for it too.

As I said earlier, I should be pleased with what I’ve done today.

So right now, I’m going to finish a few things off and then go to bed ready for a busy day tomorrow, if my coughing will let me. I now have the fierce antibiotics for the cough, so I’m going to take the first one just before I slide into bed. God knows what will happen during the night but if it sorts out this cough, then I’m prepared to give it a full go, whatever happens.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about falling asleep … "well, one of us has" – ed … I once fell asleep with a girlfriend at a friend’s house. All I could find were four coats so I gave her two and I had two.
Half an hour later, she awoke me. "Eric, I’m cold" so I gave her one of my coats.
Half an hour later, she awoke me again. "Eric, I’m still cold" so I gave her the other one.
Half an hour later, she awoke me yet again. "Eric, I’m still cold"
"Look," I said. "It’s only one night, and everyone else has gone to bed, so why don’t we pretend that we’re married"
"A good idea" she replied eagerly.
"Right" I said. "Go and find your own blasted coats."

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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."

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Monday 27th April 2026 – TODAY HAS NOT …

… been much better than the last couple of days, unfortunately.

As seems to be usual these days, I was later than I would have liked to have been, going to bed last night. With the football that ran on until about 20:15, by the time that I’d finished what needed to be done and sorted out myself in the bathroom, it was about 21:30 when I finally settled down in bed.

Something else that is also becoming usual these days too is the fact that it took me longer than usual to drop off to sleep, But once I’d gone, I was gone.

Whatever time it was that I awoke, I had no idea, but it can’t have been long after I’d dropped off to sleep, because the electric water heater hadn’t switched on, so it was obviously before midnight. And there I lay, tossing and turning and coughing for the rest of the night until the alarm went off at 06:29.

It took a good while for me to leave the edge of my bed and stagger off into the bathroom, where, as well as a good wash, I had a good shave too in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon. By the time that I arrived in the kitchen, it was much later than usual, but no hot drink today. It’s Dialysis Day, so just a quick mouthful of orange juice to wash down my medication.

Back in here, I transcribed the dictaphone notes from the previous night and they are now online, all of them. And what an effort that was. There weren’t any notes from last night – after all, if you don’t sleep for long, you don’t really have the time to go far.

The nurse came along as usual, and it shows you just how interested he is, in that he’d forgotten why I had been to the hospital on Friday morning. I certainly hadn’t!

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

Today, we’re discussing interments and cremations, and so far, he’s managing to steer clear of any controversial subject. However, every time that he states that “it is, in my mind, undisputed that …” my immediate reflection is to go to check.

After breakfast, I came back in here and did a few things that needed doing (and didn’t do a lot of things that did) and then finished my Welsh homework. And that took much longer than it ought to have done too, what with having to reformat it into a *.pdf so that I could send it off for marking.

All the time that that was going on, I was having a chat, mostly about cats, would you believe, with an old school friend who now lives in Crewe, but I had to abandon in the end because it was time to gather up my things for dialysis.

My faithful cleaner came to sort out my anaesthetic. We had a really good chat and then, after she left, I had to go to … errr … walk the parapet, where I was caught in flagrante delicto by the taxi driver who came fifteen minutes early. “Still, the sooner we start, the sooner we finish” said Yours Truly, not knowing what the fates had in store for him.

There was already someone else in the car and we had a third passenger to pick up en route, the lady from the Old People’s Home at Sartilly, but even so, we were still early arriving.

It made no difference to me, though. I was still one of the last to be plugged in. And once more, after four days of no dialysis, I was still under my dry weight when I checked in. It’s amazing what no food will do for you.

There is one nurse there who is … well … a little lacking in tolerance than the rest, so guess who I had. And throughout the whole session, she did nothing but try to make me feel guilty about not being able to perform any of the procedures myself.

Let’s face it – there are people who have what I consider to be an irrational fear of spiders, or clowns, or anything else for that matter, but I don’t spend all of the time criticising them. By the end of the session, it had reached such an extent that I almost told her where to stick her plasters, instead of on my arm.

Another thing that really got my goat was that not one of the doctors on duty there came to discuss Friday morning with me. That they might not yet have received the results would be no surprise, but at least they might have come to talk about the visit and “what happens next”.

During the session, I was so wracked with coughing fits that I vomited again. This isn’t turning out very well.

The nurse had the last laugh. I’m convinced that she terminated the session early. I have an automatic blood-pressure test every thirty minutes, but I definitely counted one short of however many there should have been.

When the disconnection was complete, I had to wait twenty-five minutes for the taxi, and when he arrived, he confirmed the time for which he’d been summoned, which agreed with my suspicions. But then, we had to wait another twenty-five minutes for the lady from Sartilly to finish. It’s definitely not my day, is it?

My cleaner was waiting for me as usual, and she helped me into the apartment. And after she left, I said a phrase that has a connection, albeit distant, with a lump of turf and came in here to write out my notes.

Now that they are finished, I have no idea and neither do I care, but I’m off to bed, without a meal yet again. As I came into the building, I could smell chips being cooked, and quite frankly, it turned my stomach

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my cleaner … "well, one of us has" – ed … she and I were discussing apartments on sale around here in case my friend from Munich ever wants to come to join us up here in the “Monaco du Nord”.
There was one that I’d seen that looked quite nice, so I mentioned it.
"Do you know how much that costs?"
"No Idea" I replied
"It’s on sale at one million three!" she exclaimed.
Which, at that point, we both said in unison, completely impromptu, "between the two of us, we could probably manage the ‘three’. But where would we find the rest?"

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Saturday 25th April 2026 – I AM BEGINNING …

… to feel a little better today, especially this afternoon when I began to feel something more like human.

Mind you, anything is bound to be an improvement after the events of Friday. Let’s just say that a fibreoscopy is one of those things added to my list of “never a second time” – such as a ponction thoracique and a biopsie musculaire. In fact, when I look at the tortures through which I have been put since I fell ill in 2015, I’m amazed that I’m still here, fighting on.

Yesterday put the tin hat on it all. I’d slept almost all the afternoon and being totally unable to function when I awoke at 18:00, I simply did the barest minimum of what needed doing, wrote yet another terse note as my blog entry and then crawled under the covers.

And I slept too. Out like a light for I don’t know how many hours, but when I did awake, the electric water heater was on, so it was certainly after midnight. At some point, I had to leave the bed, and when I checked, it was 04:45. When I’d done what I needed to do, I went back to bed and, to my relief, back to sleep.

The alarm sounded as usual at 06:29 and it took me an age to leave the bed. It really did, and I was so late going for my medication that there was just enough time for a mouthful of orange juice to wash it all down. Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was something about being in a rock group last night, and all of our equipment was on a cart being pulled by a donkey. However, the donkey escaped and we all had to go to look for it. Eventually, someone found it and brought it back. Nevertheless, it tried to escape again, and we then worked out that, for some reason, this donkey hated to be called a donkey – it preferred being called by some other names, so we had to think of a few names and try them out on the donkey. Once we found one, with which the donkey agreed, we could then proceed. However, we had then to be very careful not to call the animal a donkey.

It beats me where this idea of transporting our equipment on a donkey-drawn cart fits in, but regular readers of this rubbish will recall that Greece has figured quite a lot in some of our dreams just recently. This is the only connection that I can see.

However, I’m not sure whether I’ve talked about this “self-identify crisis” recently … "yes you have" – ed … with people being allowed to identify as “trans”, “cis” (whatever that is), “asexual”, “furry” and all of a thousand other things. I couldn’t care less if a man wants to wear a dress and wear make-up or whether a woman wants to walk out in a catsuit. We are supposed to “take their feelings into consideration”, which is all very well and no-one is going to argue with that, but who takes into consideration the feelings of women who want a safe space free from masculine intrusion?

It reminds me of one of my passengers on the taxis, a guy called Booth, who totally cleared the ladies’ public toilets of the Royal Hotel in Crewe when some action that he took whilst in there revealed him to be a man. He was subsequently fined quite heavily for a “public order offence”.

And, of course, now we have our donkey wishing to self-identify as something else.

The nurse came as usual, but he didn’t seem to be very interested in the events of yesterday. We had a little chat as he sorted out my feet, and then he left.

Once he’d gone out of the door, I made breakfast, but I couldn’t get my head around THE CELT, THE ROMAN AND THE SAXON by Thomas Wright, so I left it for a better day when I’d be feeling much more like it.

After I’d had a little doze at the breakfast table, I came back in here to attend to a few things and then to write up my notes from yesterday. They are all now online, and I could concentrate on the next part of the day, which was the football.

It was the first match of the “also rans” in their attempt to qualify for the one remaining European place, so we had Colwyn Bay at home to Penybont. Colwyn Bay haven’t won for the last three games, whereas Penybont haven’t won since – I think – November, except for a squalid and depressing 1-0 win against bottom club Llanelli.

The game was as poor as it could have been, with a couple of rather inept attacks huffing and puffing but failing to blow the house down of some rather average defences. The number of good chances in this game could be counted on the fingers of one hand. It inevitably went to a penalty shoot-out, where, surprisingly, Penybont won 4-2.

Let’s hope that the other match on Sunday late afternoon between Y Barri and Hwlffordd is much better than this one was.

Once the game was over, I worked upon the radio programme for a while, finishing off the selection of the music, reformatting, remixing and re-editing all of the songs, and then pairing and segueing them. I’ll write the notes some other time.

Another thing that I did was my Welsh homework, but by 18:30, I’d run out of steam yet again so I abandoned everything and climbed into bed, and that was that. Who said anything about “beginning to feel a little better”?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about self-identifying … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone once came downstairs to announce to his parents that he wished to self-identify as a cat.
A few hours later, he came downstairs at teatime but couldn’t see his meal on the table.
"Where’s my tea?" he asked
"Over there, on the floor by the sink in the silver bowl," said his father. "And by the way, wear something warm under your catsuit because, at 23:00 when we go to bed, we’ll be putting you outside with all of the other cats."

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Tuesday 21st April 2026 – WHAT ANOTHER HORRIBLE …

… day I’ve had today. It was just like last Friday, or the Saturday before, when the girls were here.

By the time that I’d finished all of the things that I needed to do last night and had sorted myself out in the bathroom, it was just about 22:00 so I gratefully slid under the covers of the bed.

As usual these days, it took a while to go off to sleep, but it didn’t last long. Awoken by dreadful coughing fits and the stabbing pain in my foot, despite the painkillers that I’d taken before going to bed, it must have been quite early at that point. I’ve no idea what time it was, because I couldn’t be bothered to look, but it was certainly for an age that I lay there awake, my guilty conscience troubling me all the time, as it often does.

When the alarm went off, I was still awake, but it took, as usual, an age for me to rise to my feet. Feeling totally dreadful, I didn’t bother with the bathroom but dressed and went into the kitchen for my hot drink and medication.

That failed to liven me up so I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And to my dismay, I found that I’d been nowhere at all. Still, if you’re only asleep for an hour or two, that’s not much time to go very far, is it?

Instead, I sorted out a few other things that kept me busy until the nurse arrived.

He was not very helpful about anything much, telling me how difficult one of these fibroscopy examinations will be, something that I really didn’t want to hear. He didn’t seem to be all that interested in discussing my lack of sleep either.

After he left, I came back in here, wrote a note to my tutor to say that I was too ill to attend class today, climbed into bed (fully-clothed) and went straight off to sleep.

When I awoke, it was 12:26 – I’d been asleep for just about four hours. I was determined to rejoin my Welsh class for what little time was left, so at 12:46 I was there, ready to participate for the last forty-five minutes. How the lesson went, I really don’t know because I was totally out of it during that time.

After the lesson, I changed my mind about the shower. Before I went back to bed, I’d decided not to have my weekly shower today because I was feeling so ill, but by now I was feeling a little better and was a little more steady on my feet, so I went to set out the bathroom and sort out some clean clothes.

Back in here, you won’t believe it but I fell asleep again, the first of probably a dozen crashes out that I would have during the afternoon.

My cleaner awoke me and shooed me under the shower, and although I felt a little better, it wasn’t all that much better. Back in the kitchen, we sorted out the medication and worked out what we needed for the next month. Then she went off down the hill to the chemists for some supplies.

Back in here, I made a … "very slow" – ed … start to the next radio programme until she came back, and then we put everything away where it should go in the medicine drawer. I’m trying my best to keep that tidy and organised – a difficult feat where I’m involved.

After she left, I made breakfast at long last – no coffee, though – and then sat down to eat it. And was it three or four times that I fell asleep whilst doing so? I really can’t remember.

Back in here, I carried on with the next radio programme, fighting off, unsuccessfully more often than not, a wave of fatigue. At one point, I was out for forty-five minutes or so and that was embarrassing.

So now, even though it’s still light outside, I’m off to bed, hoping to feel much better tomorrow. I can’t keep on going like this.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the chemists … "well, one of us has" – ed … a middle-aged lady came into the chemist’s shop and asked "do you sell giant-sized condoms?"
"Yes, we do" said the chemist. "They are over there on that shelf down near the bottom."
Fifteen minutes later, the woman was still standing beside the shelf so the chemist asked her "did you manage to find them?"
"Ohh yes" said the woman. "They are right here."
"So, is there a problem?"
"Ohh no. I’m just waiting to see who buys them."

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Monday 20th April 2026 – WHAT A TERRIBLE …

… day this has been. Almost everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong, and there seems to be no let-up in the immediate future either.

Things started to go wrong last night when, for some reason which I know not what, it was gone 22:00 when I’d finished everything that needed finishing, and I doubt if I was actually in bed by 22:30. Not that I cared, though – I was just glad to be in it at any time.

One good thing to have happened was that I only awoke once, and for the usual reason. But I noticed that the day was dawning so I checked the time – 06:22, just seven minutes before the alarm was due to go off – so I simply climbed back into bed and waited.

Nevertheless, it still took quite a while for me to rise to my feet, and by the time I’d had a good wash and a shave, in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, I was late going into the kitchen for my medication.

No hot drink for me today, though. It’s Dialysis Day so I made do with a small mouthful of cold orange juice. I’ll beat this thing yet.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

We’d started a group with some of the former members of Genesis. This later evolved into a kind of “Son of Genesis”, with several of the younger players taking over. There was something in there about wearing silicon wristguards and having to change them with each other at the end of each performance. There was some issue about someone who didn’t wear his and it led to some kind of dispute within the group.

As for a group consisting of former Genesis members, there’s a story behind this too, but it’s another one that the World is not yet ready to hear.

As for the “Son of Genesis”, after Micky Jones of Man died, his son George and Martin Ace’s son Joshua Ace started a group called Son of Man (actually, George sent me a recording of one of their concerts, the very last live appearance of guitarist Deke Leonard, to broadcast on the radio at the appropriate moment).

Where the silicon wristguards fit in, I have no idea.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual, in her usual cheerful mode, especially as she is off on her week’s rest this evening. She sorted out my legs and feet and then hopped off outside into the sun.

When she left, I was just about to start my breakfast when my faithful cleaner arrived to help me pack my bag for my appointment this morning.

After she had followed Isabelle the Nurse out of the door, I started again to make breakfast. When my porridge and coffee were cooked, I sat down to begin but I’d scarcely taken a spoonful of porridge or a mouthful of coffee when the taxi arrived.

The rendezvous was at 10:45 so I was expecting the car at about 10:00, so what the *!@@ was it doing here at 09:10?

It turned out that there was someone else to pick up, but his appointment was for 10:15 so in fact the car should have been here at about 09:30 and given me a chance to eat something.

We arrived at the hospital at 10:10, and luckily I was seen quite quickly for my thoracic scan. We were told that it would take fifteen minutes, so the taxi didn’t turn up for me until 11:00.

It dropped me off at dialysis at 11:10 for my treatment at 14:00, so I was left sitting around like Piffy on a Rock for all that time. One of the nurses came to sort out my anaesthetic, and, sweet thing, she brought me a cup of coffee.

When I was weighed, they found that there was only 200 grammes to extract, but I persuaded the nurse to wind it up to 500 grammes. And then there were all kinds of problems with the machine, all kinds of problems with one of the auxillary machines, and then all kinds of problems with the disconnection.

In between, Emilie the Cute Consultant came along, bearing even more bad news.

The examination has revealed that I have a severe infection, so severe that antibiotics are powerless, and that I probably picked it up at chemotherapy. The lung specialist wants to see me on Friday, when he wants to stick a camera down my throat.

How he’s going to do that, I don’t know. Emilie the Cute Consultant said that she’ll prescribe a relaxant. I told her to prescribe half a dozen, and a length of lead piping while she was at it. I’m beginning to wish that I’d said nothing about it now.

The taxi was waiting for me so at least I didn’t have to wait, but on weighing myself on leaving, I found that I’m exactly halfway between my ideal weight and my “sporty” weight when I was running and playing sport.

My cleaner was waiting for me when I arrived, and she helped me into the apartment. And after she left, I finally managed to eat my breakfast – at 19:30.

Now, I’m off to bed and hoping for a good sleep for my Welsh lesson tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the scanner … "well, one of us has" – ed … the nurse there told me that they’d had a great deal of difficulty with the patient before me, who couldn’t stop hiccupping.
"she apologised profusely", so she told me "but I told her that she needs to stop so that we can take the scan."
"What happened then?" I asked.
"She said she couldn’t and didn’t know why? She asked me if I had an idea."
"So what did you say?"
"I told her that she was probably pregnant."
"And was she?"
"Not at all. But it didn’t ‘arf stop her hiccups!"

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Saturday 18th April 2026 – I HAVE HAD …

… a somewhat better day today. Mind you, that’s not at all difficult because yesterday was pretty awful.

But never mind. After writing my notes and doing everything that I have to do, it was about 21:00 when I finally made it into bed. As usual these days, it took a while to go off to sleep, but once I fell asleep, I remember nothing at all for quite a while.

At some point, and I’ve no idea when, I had to leave the bed, but I was soon back into bed and soon asleep again. At a later moment, I had to go down the corridor again, but I’d only been back in bed fifteen minutes or so afterwards when the alarm went off.

Despite the fact that I’d not long ago been up and about, it was another one of the usual struggles to leave the bed, and I eventually managed to stagger into the bathroom.

Afterwards, I headed into the kitchen for my medication and hot drink and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone.

Nerina and I had gone on a coach tour and we’d been put into a hotel room like everyone else, and we went to sleep. When I awoke this morning, I noticed that there was a mouse, a crab and two really strange creatures. One was blue and the other was olive green. There was also a huge spider. I managed to deal with the crab straight away and threw it out of the room. The next one was something with a hard shell, so I hit it with a fluorescent lamp tube that was lying around and it shattered the shell, so I threw it out of the bedroom window. The spider – I managed to chase it out of the room and it ran off down the corridor. The mouse was not a mouse – it was the thing that I’d hit with a fluorescent lamp tube. It resembled a mouse of a kind. The two others – they were really gruesome things. The green thing was like a starshell, like a star or something with its tentacles. I managed to catch that at the right time and with the door open, I could flick it outside. But this blue thing was really rapid. Every time I tried to catch it, it ran off down another end of the room. Eventually, Nerina came out of bed and joined in the hunt. We managed to corner it but it still slipped out. In the end, I had the bedroom door open wide and we manoeuvred it over to that side of the room so that when we came close to it, it ran outside the door and off down the corridor so we closed the bedroom door.

These are obviously my brother’s monsters from last night’s notes, following Nerina and me about. But what a hotel in which to stay when it’s infested with things like those. I wonder if any other room had such a collection.

However, reflecting on yesterday, if anyone had asked me even five years ago to go a day without coffee, I would have said that it’s impossible. I used to drink coffee by the bucketful. But ohhh! How times have changed! Needs must when the devil drives and all of that.

This was a dream where I was in Edinburgh, and I was asleep in my car. When I awoke next morning, there had been a couple of stickers stuck on it. I wasn’t sure what they were about, so I didn’t read them at first. Eventually, I managed to tear one off because these stickers were on the inside. It said something about bad parking and how my vehicle would be taken away if it weren’t removed. I then had a look at the other stickers. These were car park receipts with £0:00 in them so I don’t know what this was all about. Anyway, I was trying to make up my mind which car I was in because I couldn’t remember and it wasn’t until the day began to dawn that I realised that I was in a gold-coloured MkIII Cortina saloon and I have no idea what I was doing in there because a gold MkIII saloon is one that I have never owned.

Sleeping in my car is nothing new for me and even Nerina has shared a car with me on occasion. There’s a story about Nerina and me sleeping in the car in Cherbourg, but the World isn’t ready to hear it.

Surprisingly, MkIII Cortinas of all shades and colours have passed through my hands at one time or another, either as taxis or to be broken for spares, except a gold one. Even now, I still have a dark brown one and a bronze one, and I shan’t be letting them go at any price. They are both 2000E models so they are worth a fortune. The bronze one, one of the very few surviving 2000E estates, will fetch a mint of money.

I was planning on moving down to London, and I’d noticed this huge estate on the north-east side which was terrace after terrace after terrace of modern houses so I went along to enquire about one of them. It turned out that many of them were social housing, reserved for undergraduates or pensioners, but there was one part of it where single people could either buy or rent one of these places, so I told him that I may be interested in one of those. We went through all of the procedures and everything, and I ended up signing for one of them. Once the contracts were exchanged, they gave me the address of the property, which was in Onllwyn, which is in North Wales, so I went there to see what it was that I’d bought. It was a small cottage with a very large garden. I thought “never mind. I can do quite a lot with this”.

Leaving aside the fact that Onllwyn is actually in South Wales, in between Neath and the Brecon Beacons, I would love a small cottage with a big vegetable garden, but I need to be fit and healthy to cope with it. The housing estate seems to remind me of the flats in Bartle Road in London near Ladbroke Grove underground station, built on the site of Rillington Place where Christie, the mass murderer, lived.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual and was pleased to see me looking better, just as I was pleased to be feeling better. She sorted me out and then wandered off on her rounds. I made breakfast and read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

And here we go again. We’re revisiting Roman Roads, passing by briefly on our way to agriculture, and out author tells us "Antiquaries seem often to have been misled by their dissimilitude to the great Roman military roads, to imagine many of these to have been British. It is not very probable that the older inhabitants of the island, such as Caesar found them, divided into separate and hostile tribes, which seem often to have changed their boundaries, as they were pressed forwards by other colonies, should have been great road-makers."

How did he think that the “other colonies” managed to press forwards? And how did he think that products only found in certain places, like the blue stones of Preseli, travelled from one part of the country to the other, such as Stonehenge? It has been recognised for a great many years that there is a whole network of prehistoric trackways across Britain dating back to Neolithic days and even before.

Back in here, I had a few things to do, interrupted by a couple of bouts of falling asleep unfortunately, but then I set about editing one of the radio programmes whose notes I dictated a couple of weeks ago. That programme is now actually complete and ready to be broadcast, although editing out thirty-eight seconds of speech was quite a challenge.

After a disgusting drinks break, I was debating whether or not to start editing the next one in the queue, but my mind was made up for me when Rosemary rang for a chat. I don’t know for how long we were chatting, but it took me right up to the start of the football.

It was the last match of the season for the league, and what a dramatic day it was. Two matches were of major interest, Y Bala v Llansawel and Y Fflint v Cardiff Metropolitan.

The situation was simple – Y Fflint had to equal or better Y Bala’s result, and Llansawel had to beat Y Bala and hope that Llanelli would beat Hwlfordd so that Llansawel would qualify for the European playoffs.

We were watching the Y Fflint v Cardiff Metropolitan game, which I thought was the wrong one, and although it was rather “agricultural”, it had plenty of action. And as goal after goal was scored in both the matches, the pendulum swung from one way to the other – Y Fflint stay up and Y Bala go down, and then a couple of minutes later, Y Bala stay up and Y Fflint go down.

Our game finished in a 2-2 draw, but Y Bala were undone late in the game to go down 2-1 after leading 1-0 at one point, so Y Bala are relegated to the Cymru North next season. Llansawel, even though they won, were forestalled by Hwlffordd hitting Llanelli for six with no reply.

Y Fflint threw everything that they had at the Met and did everything they could to keep the Met out. They finished the game with only nine players, two having been sent off for “denying a goalscoring opportunity”. However, I thought that the first one was rather harsh as there were two other defenders rushing back to cover.

Other good news on the football front is that the five clubs whose Tier One licence application was refused – Colwyn Bay, Y Bala, Trefynnon, Caerau Trelai and Caerfyrddin – have all been successful on appeal. For the latter two, they’ll have to wait another season because they both missed the promotion bus this time around.

So right now, I’m going to bed, early as it may be, and hoping for a nice lie-in tomorrow. Isabelle the Nurse can treat my legs while I’m still in bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my old vehicles … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone once said that the group “Queen” had written a song about me.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, who else would a Cortina landslide in ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ refer to?"

0

Tuesday 7th March 2026 – AND YET ANOTHER …

… night when I’ll be going to bed without any tea other than chocolate cake and some of the new batch of home-made chocolate ice cream.

And while I’m at it, I shall be hoping for a better night than the near-catastrophe that was last night, when I was so looking forward to a good sleep.

After coming back in here after my cake and ice cream last night, I wrote out my notes, did what else I had to do and then made ready to climb into bed. And by the time that I was tucked up in bed with my head stuck under the quilt, it was just a minute or so after 22:00.

And there I stayed, as snug as a bug in a rug, until all of … errr … 00:45.

At that point, I had to leave the bed for what seems to be the usual reason these days, but back in bed afterwards, I couldn’t go back to sleep, no matter how I tried. I definitely remember seeing 03:00 come around on the clock. I’m not sure what happened after that, but one thing that I do know is that when the alarm went off at 06:29, I was definitely asleep. And I wish that I’d stayed asleep too.

As usual, it was something of a struggle to rise to my feet and to head off into the bathroom. But I managed to sort myself out eventually and head, rather later than usual, into the kitchen for my hot drink and medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And it was, yet again, something of a disappointment.

There was a book publisher in Wales last night. His company was reviewing a whole pile of books in Welsh that had been written by Welsh musicians and was awarding some kind of prize for the best. He’d collected ever so many and read most of them. Some had been eliminated, but there were four left and they would find one more out of the ones they hadn’t read. But there was controversy over one of the four because apparently the author’s viewpoint was not that of everyone else. Some people felt that it was the wrong decision to include this, whereas others were in favour of free speech and the quality of the work rather than the quality of the opinions.

There are dozens and dozens of these sportsmen’s books written by ghostwriters “on behalf of” famous football players etc., but usually these days, they aren’t worth the paper on which they are written. And I’ve never heard of any written in the Welsh language except for one by that rugby referee Nigel Owens.

As for the dream itself, I’ve no idea from where it has come, because nothing about it rings a bell with me.

The nurse turned up after his week’s rest, telling me all about his week off and the home maintenance and cleaning that he did.

After he left, I made breakfast, back to banal toast again, and started my new book. It’s called THE CELT THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

It’s uncertain why “The Celt” is included in the title, because it only mentions them briefly in passing, and then almost always in relation to the Romans. It’s a disappointment on that score. And seeing as the book was written in 1874, a lot of assumptions that Wright makes and conclusions that he draws are now long-outdated, as more-modern discoveries have moved us forward.

Back in here, I had things to do and things to tidy up, and then seeing that there’s no Welsh class today with it being the Easter holidays, I had another look at the radio programme that I started yesterday.

Despite the fact that the edits aren’t so good, I decided to leave it pretty much as it is because editing it will only make it worse. I’ve done one or two little things, but that’s about all. It could be better, but I’m not quite sure how I would do it.

After I’d finished, I sat down and wrote out the notes for it. I needed about one minute and fifty-seven seconds of notes, but without even trying, I managed to make two minutes twenty-eight seconds. I don’t mind being over. I prefer that and have to edit a few things out rather than fall short and have to add things in.

After my disgusting drink break, my faithful cleaner appeared. And the first thing that she did was to shoo me in underneath the shower. So now, I’m a nice, clean boy … "well, clean, anyway" – ed … looking forward … "he hopes" – ed … to a decent sleep tonight.

And the apartment is nice and clean too. I wish that it would stay like that, because I always seem to let it go out of control, and I’m not sure why.

Once she’d gone, I had a few things to do, such as to make a few ‘phone calls, more of which anon, and then I could crack on.

The next radio programme is going to be more complicated than most. It doesn’t feature any musicians (although, of course, there will be music) but a person associated a long time ago with the music industry.

And as he’s still alive, I shall have to be very careful what I say because he was an extremely controversial character back in those days and although a lot has been written about him that is not very pleasant to read, I have yet to find any substantiated sources for much of it.

Finding the music will be complicated too. His company disappeared well over fifty years ago, and the master tapes went with it, so I can’t rely on my “usual sources” to conjure up a hatful of magic. But I have various “connections”, and we shall have to see what they can find for me.

So far, I’ve tracked down a few bits and pieces and, to my surprise, I have some stuff here too, so all is not lost. I’m sure that I can conjure up something.

All of that took me right up to teatime, so I went for chocolate cake with chocolate ice cream. And Bane of Britain forgot to put the mint syrup in with the final forking. It’s probably too late now, regrettably. But never mind – it’s still delicious. Heating up half of the chocolate milk and adding the cornflour worked really well, but what I need to do next time is to start much earlier, heat up all of the milk, add the cornflour to thicken it and then let it cool for half an hour or so.

So right now, I’m off to bed, in the hope that I really will have a good night’s sleep before too long.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about having a shower … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of two girls from Crewe sharing a flat together.
One of them, who is in the shower, shouts to the other one "quick, can you bring me the shampoo?"
The other one replies "but I put it in there an hour or so ago."
"Yes, I know" replied the first girl. "But that’s for dry hair. Mine is sopping wet right now."

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Monday 6th March 2026 – I HOPE THAT …

…you all had a very happy Easter and that the Easter Bunny was very generous to you. As for me, I’ve finished all my hot cross buns, regrettably, but I still have plenty of chocolate cake and the new batch of homemade chocolate ice cream to go at.

In fact, the chocolate cake and the last helping of the first batch of home-made ice cream were delicious. And once more, that’s all that I’m having for tea because, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … sleep for me is much more important right now than food. And you know that I’m ill if I’m thinking like that. It’s not like me to turn my back on a good meal.

And sleep I need too, after last night. I was back in here at about 20:30 yesterday evening after clearing up and doing the washing-up, and then I sat down to write my notes.

By the time that I’d finished, done everything else that needed doing and sorted myself out, I was in bed just a minute or two after 22:00, looking for the good night’s sleep and lie-in that I had promised myself.

However, regular readers of this rubbish will recall what happens at times like this. Just like the other night, I had to go to stroll the parapet, and not once but twice. The first time was at 01:20, which seems to be a popular time for me to awaken, and the second time was, would you believe, 06:29 exactly.

The first time, I managed to go back to sleep but the second time, no such luck. I needn’t have bothered trying for a lie-in at all. Nevertheless, I stayed there in bed until the alarm went off at 07:30.

The alarm going off is one thing – leaving the bed is quite something else. And by the time I’d been into the bathroom for a good wash and shave, there wasn’t much time for anything else as Isabelle the Nurse arrived.

She chatted on about nothing in particular, happy because, presumably, she’s off on her week’s break this evening, and after she left, I could make breakfast.

There went my last two delicious hot cross buns this morning, just as did HISTORIA BRITTONUM by Nennius. It didn’t take long to read, and I can’t say that I’m sorry either. I didn’t enjoy it at all. However, the genealogy tables in there were fantastic works of fiction. It seems that every person in Europe is a descendant of Woden, according to Nennius.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was something going on in a recording studio about writing and recording songs relating to certain incidents, such as some old woman who was bedridden and who only used to eat bread, etc. On several occasions, there was a choice of perhaps two or three subjects where people in the studio had to write a song on one of them, but it was all very confusing, all of this. I was asked to write a song on one particular subject, but it was one of those subjects that I couldn’t face so I decided not to

Just recently, I seem to have been spending a lot of time in a recording studio. It’s probably due to all of these radio programmes.

And seeing as we have been talking about radio programmes … "well, one of us has" – ed … after I’d finished the things that I usually have to do in the morning, I reviewed this weekend’s radio programme and sent it off for inclusion in the stream.

With that out of the way, I attacked the next radio programme on the list … "see what he means" – ed … It’s going to be another concert, and once again, the soundtrack is going to be complicated to prepare. I’ve done a “first pass” already but it’s going to be amended on several occasions, I reckon, before it’s ready to go.

My faithful cleaner turned up as usual to apply my anaesthetic, and then I had to await the taxi. I didn’t have to wait long because he was early and caught me unawares while I was … errr … otherwise engaged. However, it was the young, chatty guy and we had a nice, pleasant drive down to Sartilly to pick up someone else on our way to Avranches.

Having set out early, we arrived early at dialysis, but that counts for nothing if you arrive at the same time as four others just ahead of you with only two nurses on duty. Consequently, I was no earlier being attended to.

And having read about the times that I have … errr … been for a gipsy’s just recently, just as towards the end of last week when we had all of that rumpus at dialysis about my weight, I’m convinced that the scales were wrong that Thursday. Today, I clocked in at UNDER my dry weight.

Nevertheless, I made them take out 500 grammes so that I can be ahead next time. But I’ll keep on going as I am, with just breakfast and chocolate cake for now, until I’m sure that it’s all properly under control and I’m not as tired as I currently am.

With everyone arriving all at once, everyone needed unplugging at the same time. And being last in, I was last out, after something of a wait, so I was no earlier arriving home.

My cleaner helped me in, and after she left, I had my chocolate and ice cream and then did the washing up. And now that I’ve finished my notes, there are just a few things to do and then I’m hoping for a better night than last night.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my … errr … problems during the night … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the two old men in the urology clinic.
The first man asks the second "why are you here?"
"I have this terrible problem" he replied. "I don’t seem to be able to manage to … errr … go to the bathroom these days."
"I don’t have that problem" replied the other. "Every morning at 07:00, as regular as clockwork, every day, I have no trouble at all."
"So why are you here then?"
"I don’t wake up until 07:30."

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Sunday 5th April 2026 – YET ANOTHER NIGHT …

… when I’m going to bed without any tea, except, of course, a slice of my home-made chocolate cake and a helping of home-made ice cream

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I’m valuing my sleep much more than I’m valuing my food right now, and that’s not like me at all, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall.

You wouldn’t think that I’d had a decent lie-in last night. As usual, things rather dragged and it ended up being just after 22:00 when I went to bed. Never mind though, at least I could have a decent sleep.

That’s what I thought, anyway, but as you might expect, it didn’t work out like that. I awoke on a couple of occasions and once, round about 05:30, I thought that I would never go to go back to sleep.

However, I must have done at some point because, when the doorbell rang, I was so far out of it that I thought “who the heck is this waking me up at this time?” and I was half out of bed before I realised that it was Isabelle the Nurse. I had to dive quickly back under the covers and pretend to be asleep for when she came in here.

She was her usual chatty self, which is something that I don’t really need, early on a Sunday morning. But after she left, I could turn over and go back to sleep.

Eventually, I awoke and once I’d managed to stand up, which was not easy, I headed off into the bathroom to sort myself out. It was a respectable 09:40 when I arrived in the kitchen. No medication this morning except the urgent stuff. I simply made breakfast, including more of my delicious hot cross buns.

We started a new book today too. It’s HISTORIA BRITTONUM, written by Nennius in the tenth century. It’s a book with probably the most obsequious introduction that I have ever read, and it’s also one of the most inaccurate, although it’s one of the first to mention Arthur, even if it doesn’t describe him as a king.

The translation dates from 1838 and it contains one of the most glorious mistranslations that I have ever seen. How it passed the proof-readers, I really don’t know. Our translator tells us that "St. Germanus, after his death, returned into his own country". That would have been interesting to witness.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

When I awoke, round about 00:44, I was busy working on planning a radio programme about some kind of index. It was importing likely songs into it but at the moment that I awoke, I was puzzling over what name to give to the file. That was the point that I reached when I awoke.

Usually, I can think of a really good name for my files, but most often, it’s about ten minutes after I’ve already named them and backed them up. But this actually relates to a discussion I was having on Friday with one of my regular readers, who was talking about my database. Actually, I keep an index in a series of text files and in an Open Office spreadsheet under the rather prosaic name of “Playlist”.

There was also some more about something from the other night. They had managed to identify the cowling of that ice cream lorry and had prepared one in plastic and sent it to him to fit himself. In the meantime, they were still making enquiries about that project that was discussed the other day but they hadn’t as yet made very much progress.

Now, I wonder to which dream this relates. I can see the cowling now – it’s off a Leyland FG-550 and it’s green – but this dream and the one to which it refers still don’t ring any bells with me now that I’m awake.

I was down in Virlet last night with Nerina. We were sorting out a few things down there with someone else. Then this other person left and we decided to leave too. Nerina climbed into her car, which was a blue Ford Classic … "it was actually a Ford Corsair" – ed …, and I locked up the house. As I approached Nerina’s car, she let out the clutch and moved off about fifty yards, so I walked along towards the car, and she did this on several occasions. I thought “what on earth is the matter with her?”. So we carried on like this, but then the next-door neighbour arrived in a kind of horse box. Just as I was about to go out of sight round a corner, a little boy shouted after me “mister, mister”. I turned round and he said that their house was on fire, so I immediately ran down there and asked them if they had a hose, which they hadn’t, so I went into the barn. They followed me in, and they were amazed by the three cars that were in there that dated to the 1930s and early 1940s. I was rummaging around looking for the hose, and I found it and plugged it into the tap, but it was very short. I thought that I had much more hose than this, so I had a search around and I found another length. It still wasn’t very long so I began to look around outside. Nerina was there by this time, and she pointed out a hose that was lying on the ground underneath some wood. I went to fetch it, but it was the wrong connection. In the meantime, no fire brigade had turned up, no ambulance, no police or anything, so I asked them if they had ‘phoned the fire brigade. They replied “you have a decent-looking pushbike there. Why don’t you ride into the village and tell the mayor?”. Although the pushbike might be decent, which it probably wasn’t, I was in no healthy state to get on a bike and cycle up and down a few mountains, so I carried on looking for this hose.

This wasn’t the Virlet that I know. In fact, I’ve no idea where it might be. And I can imagine Nerina driving off as I approached the car. In fact, I did that one with Laurence but she didn’t notice and climbed into the car that had pulled up behind.

The garage with the old cars is the same one that appeared in a dream several weeks ago, but down in the Auvergne, there would be no problem about hosepipes as I have miles of the stuff.

When I’d finished, there was a footfest. Firstly, Stranraer fighting to a 1-1 draw with Dumbarton, followed by Greenock Morton throwing away a one-goal lead to go down 3-1 away to Dunfermline Athletic.

After that, I attacked the radio notes for the next programme. And by the time that I’d finished, I’d prepared and assembled the two halves of the programme, chosen the joining track and written the notes for it.

That’s three radio programmes that I’ve assembled this weekend. That’s some good going, and I wish that I could do it every weekend.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall exactly what happened after this. And for over an hour too. And when I finally did return to the Land of the Living, I couldn’t move for a good fifteen minutes. As I said earlier, it’s hard to believe that I had a lie-in this morning.

In the kitchen, I made a loaf of bread. Not a pizza, because as I said a little earlier, I’m valuing my sleep more than I’m valuing my food right now. And the loaf is cooked to perfection. I hope that it will taste as nice as it looks.

While it was baking, I washed up everything and then had my chocolate cake with home-made ice cream. The pudding was delicious as usual.

So right now, I’m going to sort myself out and go to bed. And as well as that, seeing as it’s a Bank Holiday tomorrow, I’m going to set the alarm to 07:30 and have an extra hour in bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about house fires … "well, one of us has" – ed … there were two men sitting on a pier in the Bahamas quietly fishing.
Neither of them actually looked like the flashy type so the first one asked the second "How come you managed to come here?"
"I had a house fire and I lost absolutely everything" he replied. "But the insurance company was very generous and paid me for everything."
"It’s pretty much the same story for me" replied the first man "except that it was a flood that wiped me out."
"Blimmin’ ‘eck!" said the second man. "However did you manage to start a flood?"

0

Saturday 4th April 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone again from last night. That tells you just how deep my sleep must have been.

And I needed it too. I’d been exhausted all day and as the evening went on, it went from bad to worse. With no tea again, apart from a slice of my delicious chocolate cake with home-made ice cream, I’d finished everything by 21:30 and by 21:45 I was tucked up in bed with my head buried under the quilt, and I went straight to sleep.

However, regular readers of this rubbish will recall what happens every time I have an early night. And round about 01:20 too. But this time it was for reasons that any person of my age will understand, and I was obliged to leave the bed.

Once I climbed back in, I was asleep almost straight away and that’s how I remained until the alarm went off at 06:29. And surprisingly, I was in exactly the same position in the bed as I had been when I went to sleep. I can’t have moved a single muscle during all that time.

It took an age for me to summon up the courage and energy to leave the bed, and what with a clothes-washing session too, I was hours late going into the kitchen for my hot drink and medication.

There was also a task that I had to carry out while I was in the kitchen. As I said yesterday, Isabelle the Nurse and I had had a discussion about hot cross buns, and she had asked me if I had a recipe. And so, taking the book in which I write down all of my recipes, I wrote out the recipe for her, ready for when she arrives.

Back in here, with no dictaphone notes to transcribe, I had a few other things to do. And while I was doing them, I discovered that the attendance at the game between Colwyn Bay and Caernarfon attracted a crowd of 2357. That was higher than the average gate of Accrington Stanley in League Two and higher than eight games in League Two in March.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual and was grateful for the recipe. We had the usual chat about nothing at all, and after she left, I could make breakfast and read some more of THE ROMAN FORT AT BALMUILDY on the Antonine Wall, written by Stewart Napier Miller.

In fact, read all of it because it’s now finished. And my assumption about the attacks by the natives on the fort are confirmed by his assumptions. He can, in fact, name two periods when the destruction was likely. The first being an invasion from the north that occurred, according to some contemporary writers, in 155 AD and another one being an attack some time later that prompted the evacuation of the Antonine Wall and the retreat to that of Hadrian.

So tomorrow, I’ll be starting a new book, if I wake up, which at this moment appears to be extremely unlikely.

As for my breakfast, my hot cross buns were excellent again, even if they are somewhat over-baked. In future, I’ll cook them at 180°C, regardless of what the recipe says.

Back in here, I had a few things to do, such as to watch the highlights of last night’s matches in the JD Cymru League, and then I attacked the next lot of notes for a future radio programme. And now, the two halves of the programme are complete, the joining track has been chosen and the notes written, ready for the next dictating session, whenever that might be.

And it might have been finished a long time beforehand, had I not fallen asleep for well over an hour round about midday.

After all of that I went into the bathroom and went one better than Dave Crosby, probably because I had the ‘flu for Christmas, and right now, I’m definitely not feeling up to par.

Later on, I went into the kitchen to make some more ice cream.

This time, it’s based on some chocolate milk with coconut cream, and by the time that it’s finished, it will have a stream of mint syrup running through it.

And I remembered my mistake about the cornflour when I made my first batch. This time, I heated half of the milk and added the cornflour into it to thicken it. When it cooled, nice and thick, I added it into the rest of the milk, and it seemed (to date) to have worked.

There was plenty of time left after that, and regular readers of this rubbish will recall a project that I mentioned on thirteenth of March or thereabouts, so I concentrated for a few hours on continuing that. It’s not going to be finished for ages, if at all because it’s an enormous piece of work, and it will take me forever, bearing the time that I have available.

Mind you, this is another one of those things where I could have done much more had I not fallen asleep at one point. In fact, I’ve been fighting off wave after wave of sleep all day, quite unsuccessfully at times. You wouldn’t think that I had had such a good sleep last night.

While I was having a little doze during the late afternoon, there had been a snowplough with a blade and rotating brush at the front and a salt spreader at the back, working the Trans-Labrador Highway. It came to a fast-food or coffee place and actually drove inside to clean up the inside of the building, especially the area in front of and behind the counter.

Part of the things that I have been doing today did include a discussion about the Trans-Labrador Highway and MY FIRST TRIP AROUND THERE IN 2010. And there was a discussion about snowploughs, although not cleaning out a Tim Horton’s or one of those places that was found by a High Court judge to be "guilty of exploitative marketing to children, some animal cruelty, anti-union practices, low pay, and misleading health claims.".

Anyway, that’s enough of that. These waves of fatigue have been doing me in all day and it’s surprising that I’ve accomplished as much as I have done. And so, I’m going to go to bed.

Once more, I’ve had no tea except for a lump of cake with some home-made ice cream. I’m more interested in sleep and trying to keep my weight down for dialysis rather than eating right now, although I won’t say “no” to my cake.

And in any case, with a lie-in tomorrow … "he hopes" – ed … tonight is a good night for an early night, so I shan’t hang about. I’ll go back into the kitchen and give the new ice cream a good forking, and that will be that.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my home-made ice cream … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of my friends asked me "where did you actually learn to make ice cream?"
"Simple" I replied. "When I was small, I used to go to Sundae School. "

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Thursday 2nd April 2026 – YET ANOTHER HORRIBLE …

… day today, and I’m totally fed up with these.

The only highlight, I suppose, was the memory of that really nice butternut squash soup and fresh bread that I’d had the previous evening. But not even that lasted very long.

Back in here afterwards, I had my notes to write and a few others of the usual things to do, and I was actually in bed by 23:00, and asleep shortly afterwards.

But again, not for very long. Round about 02:30 I awoke, and then we had a desperate battle to go back to sleep again. I actually didn’t think that I did because I was still awake when the alarm went off at 06:29.

It was another desperate battle to rise to my feet and head off into the bathroom for a good wash and shave, and then into the kitchen for my hot lemon, honey and ginger drink that I take with my medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And to my surprise, I had actually been out and about. And one of the time stamps tells me that I must have gone back to sleep at one point.

There was something last night about some kind of change of history exercises. There were several people involved in this, and the aim was to rewrite the history of certain events if alternative situations had taken place. For some reason, it turned out that it was to do with maths rather than actual history and it involved reworking certain maths questions. There was one girl who was rather slow doing the work but she seemed to have it all correct in the end. One thing was that there were no adults who managed to make it correct.

This is another one of those dreams that seems to relate to nothing at all.

There was also something about splitting the Catholic Church into two. Someone was keen to do this but for some reason, he put the western border down between France and Germany and France and Italy so that Rome ended up in the eastern part of it, which was a most unusual situation, but I can’t remember the rest of this now.

We did, in the early Medieval times, have Christianity split into two, the Catholic Church centred on Rome and the Eastern Orthodox Church centred on Constantinople. Although Constantinople has long gone, the Eastern Orthodox Church still carries on, mainly in the Balkans and in Russia. But I can imagine the outcry if someone decided to include Rome and Italy in the Eastern Orthodox Church.

When the alarm went off, there was something about a memory, and certain memory tests that were being taken but everything evaporated the moment the alarm went off and I can’t remember any more.

So obviously, I must have been asleep when the alarm went off, despite what I was thinking.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual, in her “chat mode” and we had a little discussion about nothing very much at all. After she left, I could make breakfast and read some more of THE ROMAN FORT AT BALMUILDY on the Antonine Wall, written by Stewart Napier Miller.

The Antonine Wall was only occupied for about twenty or so years, yet already Miller has uncovered two different periods of major destruction of parts of the fort. I’m not sure as yet what his conclusions will be, but it does seem to indicate that things were rather warm on the northern border.

Back in here, I had things to do, and then I edited two lots of additional notes for the joining tracks of two radio programmes. So now, those programmes are complete and ready to go at some point in the future. There was even time for a little “relax”.

However, I awoke in time for my cleaner to apply my anaesthetic and then I had to wait for my taxi, which was fifteen minutes late.

My arrival at dialysis seemed to be fortunate because at that moment, there was a gap in the patients arriving, so I was seen to quite quickly. But to my horror, I seemed to have put on three litres of fluid to be removed – the highest for ages.

This is something that I don’t understand. I’m controlling my liquid intake very closely and my visits to the … errr … smallest room have if anything been more frequent of late. So what’s going on? The doctors were so concerned that they instructed the nurse to set the machine at two litres and remove the rest the next time. That is, if there isn’t another ridiculous weight gain.

And because of that, there were constant interruptions, checking my blood pressure every fifteen minutes, and I couldn’t even go to sleep as the nurses would shake me awake, for fear that I’d gone into a fainting fit. All in all, it was a horrible session there today.

The taxi was waiting for me and there wasn’t much traffic on the roads so we had a quick drive home, where my faithful cleaner was waiting to help me into the apartment.

But by now, I was totally exhausted. I warmed up the rest of the butternut squash soup and sat down to eat it, but after five minutes, well over half of it went into the bin, followed by the bread, and I came in here.

All that I did was to type out a terse note on the blog and then I crawled into bed, fully clothed. It was just 20:20.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about The Antonine Wall … "well, one of us has" – ed … I was telling a friend that it reminded me of that well-known Biblical ice-cream company.
"Which one was that?" she asked
"Walls of Jericho" I replied.

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Saturday 28th March 2026 – YET ANOTHER EVENING …

… when I’ll be going to bed without any food. I started to take the stuff out of the fridge but it went almost straight back, before I’d even taken all of it out. Somehow, I just couldn’t face it tonight.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … my taste buds are definitely changing again. I wonder what’s going to drop off the menu this time, apart from my sausage, beans with cheese, and chips that I was planning on having.

This latest thing seems to be something to do with one of the medicaments that Emilie the Cute Consultant has prescribed for me. Last night, after I’d finished my notes at some kind of reasonable time, I finished off everything that needed finishing and then went into the kitchen for the medication. And about five minutes later, I began to feel quite uncomfortable.

The next thing that happened was that I was hit by a huge wave of fatigue, and I was glad to crawl into bed before it overwhelmed me.

Once in bed, I fell asleep quite quickly and apart from one or two brief awakenings, caused mainly by fits of coughing, I remember nothing whatever until the alarm went off at 06:29. And can you imagine just how difficult it was for me to leave the bed at that moment?

What with having some hand-washing to do too, I ended up being terribly late in the kitchen for my hot drink and medication. Still, better late than never. But I’ll tell you something for nothing, and that is that I had an incredibly dry throat, I was feeling dizzy and also quite lethargic.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And it was a disappointment – I think that Emilie the Cute Consultant’s medication is affecting my sleeping patterns too.

Wales was being attacked by England, so Wales responded by pushing the English back into England. Eventually, the Welsh army overwhelmed the English army right up to the point where not only did they capture most of the English army bases in the UK, it managed to capture a couple of bases’ settlements that were north of Hadrian’s Wall which, in theory, were in Scotland. Wales ended up capturing things like the forts at Newsteads which upset the Scots, and the Scots decided that they really would … fell asleep here …

And when I found the dictaphone later, it had been running for two hours and fifty-five minutes, so if you want to hear me snoring and coughing, you will have plenty to go at.

And “snoring”, yes. I’m sorry for doubting you, Percy Penguin.

As for the dream, the first part relates to very little that is current, but the second part refers to James Curle and his A ROMAN FRONTIER POST AND ITS PEOPLE that we read over Christmas and New Year.

There was something about a building somewhere in Crewe that should have been right in the centre of town but was somewhere tucked up a side street, one of the ones behind Market Street. I was on my way to visit it but I couldn’t remember exactly how I was going to be able to go there and at that point I was awoken by an enormous fit of coughing.

Apparently, at the back of Market Street, they have demolished a load of old railway engineering buildings and are building on the site. Let’s hope that the money lasts so that they can finish the job. Having gambled on HS2 arriving in the town, the council’s finances are in a total mess.

The nurse turned up as usual and saw to my legs and feet. He didn’t have much to say, but he doesn’t think much of my lifestyle and my lack of eating. He thinks that my main meal should be at lunchtime. However, if I eat a lot then, I just fall asleep in the afternoon and I do that too often without inviting it.

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

Today, we’re discussing the exiles living on the charity of the Pope in Rome. And as I said yesterday, there are piles of them – far too many to count. The Pope must have been a very wealthy man.

After breakfast, I had the fridge to tidy. I’d bought a lot of vegan milk because if it hadn’t been for running low on milk, I’d have waited for another week for supplies, with not eating much these days. So I’m going to see if I can last out four weeks this time.

It’s difficult to believe that a year ago, I was ordering shopping every two weeks

Back in here, we had the highlights of last night’s game between Caernarfon and TNS. These included yet another “let’s play it out from the back, boys”, with a predictable result.

There were a few other things that needed doing, but I’m not sure how I managed because I was feeling quite tired and lethargic, and shaking off wave after wave of sleep.

There was football on the internet at lunchtime – Hwlfordd v LLansawel. And after their dreadful display last week, Hwlffordd played much better and managed to grind out a 1-0 win to move ahead in the race for the European playoffs.

But I’d love to have a closer look at Hwlffordd’s challenge on Llansawel keeper Will Fuller as the cross came into the penalty area.

Eventually, I managed to begin to edit an outstanding set of radio notes. By the time that I’d knocked off, I’d assembled the two halves of the programme, chosen and dealt with the final track and written the notes for it, ready for dictation.

And seeing as we have been talking abut the radio programmes … "well, one of us has" – ed … I forgot to mention yesterday that that very long concert that I need to edit – it’s all done and the notes are all written. I managed to find a few hours yesterday afternoon when I sorted it out.

There were also a couple of chats with a few of my friends too. It’s nice to hear from them every now and again. We don’t see each other anything like enough these days since I’ve been ill.

Later in the afternoon, I began to make my hot cross buns. They are all made now, ready for Easter. Eight of them and then are huge. The trouble with my hot cross buns was that the oven was rather too hot and the buns are somewhat scorched. It won’t make much of a difference, though. They will still be nice.

So with no tea and having finished my notes, I’m off to bed and my lie-in tomorrow … "he hopes" – ed … because I definitely need it. I’ve crashed out a couple of times already today and I’m feeling as if I could crash out again at the drop of a hat.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Pope and the refugees in Rome … "well, one of us has" – ed … Queen Charlotte of Cyprus came to see the Pope in her horse and carriage.
As it was such a nice day, she invited the Pope to come for a ride with her. And after ten minutes, the horse … errr… broke wind extremely noisily.
"Oh dear" said Queen Charlotte, extremely flustered. "I really am so sorry."
"It’s no problem" said the Pope. "In fact, if you hadn’t said anything, I would have sworn that it was the horse."

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Thursday 26th March 2026 – HERE I ALL AM …

… not sitting in a rainbow but sitting at my desk in my office. And the time is 02:15

If you’re wondering why it’s so late, the answer is that it isn’t. Anyone who came here yesterday evening or in the early part of the morning will have noticed from the rather terse entry that I made at the time that I’d come home from dialysis and gone almost straight away to bed.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … when I’m feeling as bad as I was feeling at that moment, bed is by far the best place for me to be.

In fact, I’ve been feeling rather strange all day. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that it all began on Wednesday afternoon when a bizarre wave of fatigue swept over me. In the evening, I couldn’t finish my meal and I was really glad to finally make it into bed, late as it might have been, for all the usual reasons.

Once in bed, I went to sleep fairly quickly and apart from one or two little twitches during the night, I slept right through to the alarm at 06:29.

As usual, we had another struggle to rise to our feet and then I staggered off into the bathroom for a wash and a shave – not that it will do me much good because, having prescribed some tablets for me that have a high suicide rate, I imagine Emilie the Cute Consultant sitting all afternoon in her little office with her fingers crossed.

After the hot drink and the medication, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And it was rather disappointing.

TNS won the Welsh championship and by rights should have qualified to play in Europe, but something happened which meant that they lost that place to a Scottish football club. Many people were upset by this. One of the Welsh reporters said that regardless of the outcome, TNS should have had the chance to play in a play-off against that team, regardless of how many people were interested in coming along to watch it.

This is another one of those dreams that has little basis in fact. The Welsh clubs sometimes have three, sometimes four teams playing in European competition during the summer but that number depends on how well the clubs performed in the previous summer. And TNS, perennial championship winners, would always qualify for first place.

The nurse turned up early today. And he had a moan about the gloves that he used yesterday and had set aside for today not being where he’d left them. I replied that if he were to leave them in the medication drawer, they would still be there but if he were to leave them on the kitchen worktop, they would automatically go into the bin with the rest of the rubbish.

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

We’re still discussing Bosnia and Herzegovina, and we’ve reached the same old, old Balkan story of disputed successions, greedy nobles, all that kind of thing, who spend so much time squabbling amongst themselves that they fail to see the danger of the Ottoman forces gathering on their borders.

In fact, there have been several instances of nobles actually calling the Ottomans to help them with their struggles, preferring the yoke of the Sultan to that of their own brother, uncle etc. It really was a shameful period in European history.

Back in here, I finished the radio programme from yesterday, choosing the final track and writing the notes for it.

With that out of the way, I began to look at the next two for next week. The first one is easy – it’s difficult to believe that I’ve been doing this radio work for seven years and I can now actually recycle one of my earlier programmes, with some slight updating of the notes. That was done in no time flat.

The second one might be a little (just a little) more complicated. It relates to a sad day in San Francisco’s music history and as it happens, I have a recording of the concert that took place there on that day.

The big question though is “how do you condense a concert of four hours and fifteen minutes of one of the greatest jam bands ever into a programme of fifty-eight or so minutes?”. I can see that I shall have to be very imaginative.

But by now, there were strange goings-on. My throat had become all dry and sticky, I was losing my voice and I was feeling a little light-headed. I’ve no idea why. Anyway, I treated it as just one of those things and carried on.

My cleaner was rather late arriving for my anaesthetic so it was something of a panic. And then the taxi driver, who had never been here before, couldn’t find the entrance to the building and my cleaner, who had collared him in the street, came back here to escort me out.

We had two other people to pick up, one of whom was worse than me so I had to leave the front seat and sit in the back. And that was quite a gymnastic effort without my crutches, desperately clinging onto the door of the car.

At dialysis, I was seen quite quickly, but it was the nervous new girl who attended to me so it took longer than it otherwise ought to have done. However, she took one look at my lips and went to fetch a colleague. So I ended up sitting there for have an hour with a damp compress wedged between my lips.

Once I was plugged in, I was left pretty much alone and I could press on and fill out my shopping list for tomorrow. The doctors kept their distance today, obviously all sitting in their little office with their wax effigies and with their fingers crossed.

By the end of the session, I was feeling light-headed and nauseous as well as everything else. Luckily, the taxi driver was waiting for me when I was unplugged, and even luckier, it was one of my favourite drivers so we had our usual rocket-ride home.

My faithful cleaner helped me into the apartment, where I was hit with an overwhelming wave of fatigue on top of everything else from which I was suffering. After my cleaner had left, I simply made a brief blog entry and then crawled, fully clothed, into bed and that was that.

And that is where I’m going right now – to catch up on my beauty sleep.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about fighting between brothers … "well, one of us has" – ed … I remember once when my brother and I, very young, were having a kiddy fight
My mother turned up and asked "what’s happening here?"
"He started it" said my brother, pointing to me. "He hit me first."
"And why did he hit you?"
"He didn’t like it that I’d hit him just before."

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Thursday 19th March 2026 – I AM BACK …

… on this “not eating” lark again. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall me saying over the last few days that I was sure that my taste buds were changing again. Well, tonight, half of my tea (and a big half too) went into the bin before it had even made it onto the plate. I simply couldn’t face it.

Coupled with that, the pain in my foot, which had subsided for a period of about twelve hours, is now back. And back in spades too.

A lot of this might actually have something to do with last night. As usual these days, it was another late night – just after 23:30 when I finally crawled into bed. And once more, it took quite a while to go off to sleep.

It was another turbulent night as well. I can’t remember how many times I awoke, but I do know that when the alarm went off at 06:29, I was wide-awake and had been for about half an hour.

In the bathroom, when I eventually arrived there, I had a good wash and a shave, not that it would do me much good, and then went off to have my hot drink and medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was some kind of raid on the Football League headquarters by some group or other. They had managed to kick down the door and swarm in. Several clubs on the ground floor, mainly the lower-league ones, they simply didn’t try to reinforce any more doors and stay safe. Of course, all the big clubs fled upstairs, and some of the smaller ones were overwhelmed by the invaders. Gradually, they came higher up the stairs, picking off others. Someone who was so incensed by the activities of the bigger clubs in sitting there on the top floor, apparently safe, that he would shout up every time a smaller club was overwhelmed. He would shout up the name of the club in the hope that it would embarrass, but gradually, this dream became something like the play-off or something or other for the next round of the cup. There was a ball in defence that was kicked way out of the field halfway across Wales. Two players, one from Crewe Alexandra and one from a minor club in Crewe, set out to chase after it. After a long period, it was the club, the representative or whatever from the minor club in Crewe who came back with the ball, about ten yards ahead of the Crewe Alexandra player. This brought cheers from everyone because it meant that it would be this club that would be playing in the next round of the competition and not Crewe Alexandra.

This is another weird dream that seems to have no significance at all.Mind you, I’ve grown up with Crewe Alexandra being eliminated from the FA Cup by all kinds of part-time or amateur outfits, so nothing in this dream surprises me at all.

The idea of other football leagues raiding the FA headquarters and eliminating some clubs is certainly a novel idea, though. I can think of several candidates for elimination myself.

I was back in Canada. I was living there throughout the winter, and I needed to adapt myself to some Canadian winter clothes. The first thing that I really needed was a really heavy overcoat with a hood on it, so I went to look. I heard of someone part-exchanging one, so I went along to see. They had several in there so I chose the one with the front toggle fastening and hood, so this person proceeded to put it on and to demonstrate to the people who were watching. I had to tell him five or six times that that was the one that I wanted. In the end, even I became confused. He was intent on showing every last feature on this overcoat to the watchers before he’d give this coat to me. Eventually, I was given it, so I tried it on. It was a little too big for me but that was fine because I could wear several layers of clothing underneath.

This is rather wishful thinking, isn’t it? me being back in Canada. I need to resign myself to the fact that I’ll never be there again, with or without a duffel coat.

There had been a series of serious crimes committed in Georgia. The FBI had been on the trail and they’d obtained the identity of someone whom they thought was the perpetrator. One of the things that they knew about him was that he used to eat orange after orange after orange. They made a few enquiries and found that there was an old shack that was some kind of workers’ rest place from many, many years ago in an area of forest which used to be an orange grove in the past. I was sent to keep an eye on this place, which was very difficult because there wasn’t any cover. I saw whom I thought might have been the guy, who came out of and then disappeared back into this forest, so all of the police turned up on a bus. They set out to comb through this forest, piece by piece. Eventually, we found this building and I was one of the ones chosen to go through and search it. Some people were taking this search very casually, and others were being extremely cautious. I was one of those being extremely cautious in that I’d open a door really wide and wait for a minute before going in, and I was continually looking over my shoulder to make sure that somehow he hadn’t come behind me. We combed through the building but found nothing. There was a member of our party who was some kind of senior woman who was actually sitting on a window ledge with her back to the outside, sending messages on her ‘phone. I tried to explain to her that that was not the place to sit because he could come up from the outside and pull her out, but she didn’t seem to take too much attention, so I left her to it. After I was satisfied and everyone else was satisfied that there was no-one in this building, we went outside. Sure enough, he crept up to the building and pulled this woman out and held her as a kind of hostage. However, he was picked off by a sharpshooter who hit him in the shoulder and he was taken away. I headed back to town – I was given a lift by this woman. She was telling me about her work and her position, and everything that she had to do, which sounded extremely complicated. Because her partner, or other shift leader or whatever, was on holiday, she was having to work to be in charge of the two shifts. I thought that that must be extremely tiring.

This is another long, totally meaningless dream that relates to nothing at all that I know of. But can you imagine – a dangerous lunatic prowling around and someone sitting with their back to an open window?

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual and reminded me to berate the doctors at dialysis about my state of mind. Not that I need reminding, of course, because it’s preying on my mind, and I wish that someone, somewhere would find a solution.

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

Today, the subject was the death of Francisco II of Lesbos, who, we are told, "on a journey through the island, while passing the night in one of the lofty towers then common in the archipelago, was stung by a scorpion. Alarmed at his cries, his attendants and nobles climbed up into his room in such numbers that the floor collapsed and he was killed on the spot"

His father, by the way, was killed when the building in which he was sitting collapsed during an earthquake, and Francesco II was the only survivor.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then I attacked the radio programme that I’d started yesterday. By the time that I needed to go to make myself ready for dialysis, all of the songs had been chosen, remixed, re-edited, paired and segued, and I’d even written some of the notes.

One of my favourite taxi drivers came to pick me up and we had a lovely drive down to Avranches in the sun. And not long after I arrived, I was coupled up to a machine, which was nice. They even remembered to adjust the dry weight.

Generally speaking, they left me alone throughout the session – the doctor on duty never even came near me – and I was unplugged at something like a respectable hour.

The taxi driver was waiting to take me home too, but the enormous traffic jam spoiled any chance of being home at a reasonable hour.

My cleaner helped me into the apartment, and then I told you the sorry tale about tonight’s tea. At least my vegan cheesecake was nice.

So right now, I’m off to bed, hoping for a good sleep … "if the pain in his foot will let him" – ed … ready for my postponed Welsh class tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about being held hostage … "well, one of us has" – ed … a certain American president was being held hostage in a house at the side of the highway by a group of Iranians.
The American police were there, stopping all of the traffic.
"It’s the President" said a policeman. "They are holding the President in that house there, and they say that if they don’t receive ten million dollars by tonight, they’ll douse him in gasoline and set him alight. We’re taking a collection"
"How much are people giving?" asked a motorist
"The average so far is about two litres each."

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