… think that the last few days have been bad, you should have been here today.
Today, it was just like being back in the olden days when I was living in Leuven. All my energy and enthusiasm, which has been giving signs for a quite a while of wanting to go, finally departed today and there was a washed-out hulk of me sitting on a chair in my bedroom totally unable to move
Back in the days of Leuven I’d have crawled off to bed and stayed there until I don’t know when and hoped that everything would slowly improve. And for two pins I would have done that today too except that I’m not convinced that there will ever be any improvement.
What’s so sad about all of this is that I made a special effort to be in bed early last night and with an extra hour’s sleep before the alarm at 08:00 instead of 07:00 I was really looking forward to some improvement.
Last night before going to bed I’d had a good run around and done everything early which meant that for once I was ahead of myself and could crawl into bed quite content. But ohhhh! Cruel fate!
When the alarm went off I fell out of bed as usual and went to check the blood pressure. 15.7/9.8 this morning, compared to 15.5/10.1 last night. So roughly about the same.
Next task was to set out the room for the nurse so that she’d be happy. I have to look after people like that if I want a comfortable life. It’s not a good idea to upset a nurse who has to tear a plaster every morning off an open wound on your foot.
After she’d left I had some corn flakes and coffee and then came to check the dictaphone notes. of which there are more than just a few. There was a girl – I’m sure that I’ve not dreamed her before. She was about 14 and used to belong to this group of runners. We’d go running at lunchtime at school. Something had happened to her computer and they had to go right back to the days of old DOS 5.0 and DOS 6.0 and ancient computers and files to restart things. This was becoming really complicated but she was sticking it out, which impressed me more than anything. In the end there were only the two of us. As time advanced it became clear that the two of us had become a couple for once which is a rare occasion during a dream, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall.
She had very short hair and a nice little shape, a little on the muscular side, her thighs and so on. All in all I considered her to be quite a catch and thought myself extremely lucky.
It’s a shame that there was no such girl in our group of runners at school. Every lunchtime a few of us would assemble and run all the way down to Acton, perform a few exercises to warm and loosen us up, and then run back to school.
Those of us in the Sixth Form, whose common room was the old cookery lab, would then tuck in like animals to a catering-size tin of baked beans and sliced loaf of bread.
That went on for a while like that until we found that one of our “runners” was the nephew of the landlord of the Double-Necked Swan down the road. Then our lunchtime habits changed.
And then I had a small force of men including a couple of tanks and had to attack an enemy stronghold with it. What I did was to surround the stronghold with my troops. Then I sent in the tanks and used them to roll up the flanks. As the tanks passed the waiting infantry, the infantry closed in behind the tanks to keep the pressure on the bubble of enemy and to stop them trying to break out to join up with other units so that we could consequently crush them
So in this expedition from school which I’d mentioned earlier … "when?" – ed … we’d begun to build up the tanks but they pushed in to hold the unit together and the tanks did well to roll up the outposts that they had. We were pretty well-impressed. The only difficulty was wondering what they were going to do for our next trick because this wasn’t a trick that you could repeat more than once on the battle field. You need good weather, good legs and good transport to take yourself to the next point of attack and we didn’t actually have anything like that at all at the moment. It was all a very ad-hoc structure.
And I’m not sure about you but I’m impressed that I can plan a military campaign in my sleep. Like the other day when I was planning an advertising campaign, I clearly have some hidden talents, hidden so well that not even I am sure of where to go to find them.
And I wish that I did because I could do with something to liven up my life.
“The cameras say that I’m beautiful” said Julie. “Well, you’re far too young to be beautiful” said Amy. “You have to be pretty, you have to be sweet, you have to be charming and you have to be delightful first, and then someone might find you beautiful, but not when you’re 12 years old. The cameras are lying to you and are obviously seducing you into their magic without you being aware of what is happening. You need to think about this because soon it will be too late for you to resist the magic that they are pulling on you. You need to learn to resist”.
As it happens, I vaguely remember something about this dream. It was similar to a scenario in “The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe” about children who suddenly become the decisive instruments in a power-struggle that is beyond their comprehension
Of course that’s the kind of thing to make anyone question their surroundings and what is going on.
But I definitely can’t remember anything of the following dream. This was when all the objects were arranged neatly in the rear window of the car that was taking them away. It was all in a position of just inviting a burglary if they were going to be left overnight like this
It was round about this point that I fell asleep for the first time; so dramatically and deeply that I was off on another travel. I was working for Shearings and had been called in to do a feeder. It was running to some hotel and venue in the south of England. But when I reached the depot there ere all kinds of a strange green coloured service double decker with pointed roofs like the old Beverley Arch buses. One or two of our coaches arrived and parked down at the bottom end of the yard so I went to see. There were some old World War I type of lorries there and someone was negotiating with their drivers to take our passengers in their old stinky canvas-topped lorries that had a strange kind of crash-reverse gear fitted
There was no danger of missing my food. I awoke in time for lunch but not even two cups of coffee could save me as I crashed out at the kitchen table.
Later on I recovered enough to take myself off to my comfy chair in the bedroom and that’s where I stayed, feeling, tired, exhausted and sorry for myself. I really was in quite a state.
Later on I managed to summon up enough energy, from I don’t know where, to go to make a flapjack and my Sunday evening pizza. But I really didn’t want to. I was in no mood to do anything
What I’m hoping for is enough courage and energy to hang on for a week and my trip to hospital, when I can tell all to people who might be able to do something about it.
But right now that’s my lot. I’ve had about four mouthfuls of pizza and that’s all that I can manage. And anyone who knows anything a tall about me will know that if I’m off my food I really am ill.
Those bad attacks of wind are back again but I’m not going to say anything about them to the hospital because, knowing them, they’ll just prescribe a kite.