Tag Archives: potato salad

LIVE: Tuesday 13th October 2026 – I HAVE JUST …

… had one of the worst days of my life.

But I’m not talking medically, because I’m actually feeling quite good right now … "makes a change" – ed … but I mean as far as work goes. I’ve done nothing, finished nothing, accomplished nothing, and all in all I have totally wasted a complete day.

To give you some idea of what I mean, I was still writing up the dictaphone notes (something that I usually do before breakfast) at 21:05 tonight. That’s how far I am behind. I really am going to have to stop being so nice to people in the hope that they stop taking advantage of my good nature.

Nature seemed to take advantage of my good nature last night. I was in bed round about 22:45, not too much later than my ideal curfew time of 22:30, and I was looking for a really good sleep so that I’d be refreshed for my Welsh class later this morning, but it was not to be … "no surprise there" – ed …

Even though I’d gone to sleep quite quickly, thanks to that little mantra that I used to recite a few years ago, round about 03:50 or something, I awoke, and that was the end of any ideas of sleep that I might have had. I tried my best to go back to sleep but that was impossible.

When the alarm went off, it took a few minutes for me to pull myself up and sit on the edge of the bed, and then about ten minutes for me to rise to my feet. Once I was up and about, I went to unlock the front door, ready for the nurse when he arrives later this morning, and then I went to the bathroom to sort myself out.

Once I was looking and feeling a little more reasonable, I came back in here, where my first job would be to finish off the notes from last night that I had abandoned when sleep overwhelmed me rather dramatically.

Whatever it was that held me up, I really don’t know because I hadn’t made much progress when the nurse arrived. While he was dealing with my legs and my feet, we were chatting about his week off, and he was asking me questions about what I’d been up to, not that any of it really mattered.

After he left, I made my breakfast of porridge, coffee, toast and juice, and the morning medication that I need to take, which is probably enough for a meal on its own. I should have been reading some more of THE REPORT OF THE WOOLHOPE NATURALISTS CLUB 1870 except that I was hopelessly side-tracked.

The party of Woolhope Naturalists are descending from Croft Ambrey camp to Croft Castle, lower down below the camp. I read about the history of the castle, and that started off on an adventure that led me, for some weird twist of fate, as far as the German “Albatros C1”, to which I’ve just arrived. I shall have to try to get back to the book tomorrow.

Back in here after breakfast, I had to prepare for my Welsh lesson and send off this week’s homework. I’d done the homework yesterday so it simply involved checking it over, converting it to a *.pdf and then sending it off.

The revision passed really well today. It was comparatively straightforward without any complications, so I attended the lesson in an air of optimism. And the preparation had done its job because for the questions that we had to do in the middle of the lesson, I got almost all of them right.

There was a stop in midstream for a paned, or “cuppa”, when I had my disgusting drink and midday medication, and by the time the lesson was over later, I was feeling that I’d actually made a useful contribution to the lesson rather than being a passenger.

Then there were the blog notes to finish off and bring that entry to a conclusion, however, I didn’t get far – not that I was expecting to – because my faithful cleaner turned up to do her stuff and to chase me under the shower. And a really nice shower it was too. I really feel like a nice, clean boy now, although where I’m going to find a nice, clean boy at this time of night, I really don’t know.

That led to finishing off … "yet another attempt" – ed … the notes from last night. That, however, was a task that took much longer than it ought to have done, and in the end, when it was finished, I rejoiced somewhat, and as the waves of fatigue were already washing over me, I called for an energy drink instead of another disgusting drink.

Right now, I could turn my attention to the dictaphone notes at last.

There had been some kind of festival taking place, and as the crowds were leaving, my brother and I were cleaning everything up. We had a pile of it and set it on fire. The more things we found, the more we added to the flames, and at one stage it was burning quite well. But there was something happening with my health, and I reached the point where I wasn’t able to really do much more. My brother was teasing me about that kind of thing but I noticed that he had stopped adding things to the fire too, so we had to shovel the fire around to make sure that it burnt everything that was in the fire and didn’t leave anything unburnt or simply charred. But that was another big, difficult thing to do as well for me and I wasn’t quite sure what was happening.

This actually sounds like the very first Glastonbury Festival. At Woodstock, they simply dug a big hole and bulldozed all the waste into the hole, whereas at the first Glastonbury Festival, they did go along and pick it all up to burn. Rumour has it that three or four festival-goers, still asleep in their sleeping bags, were thrown into the fire, but then again, they said that at Woodstock with them being bulldozed into the hole.

But the story about my health giving out has a very sound base to it. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that back in 2015, I was with a friend and we were cutting down a big tree. Or, rather, he was cutting down a big tree and I was removing the wood in a wheelbarrow. When I was halfway through, I began to lose my breath, and later on, it all went completely. I could no longer work and no longer breathe, and I didn’t have the breath to climb the stairs at home. That was when I went to see the local doctor, and that was when they discovered that I was seriously ill and all of this lot began.

The next interruption was from someone who wanted a chat, so I was there until 18:30, thinking as the discussion came to a close that I’d have thirty minutes to finish the dictaphone notes and then I could go for tea.

But that didn’t work out because Rosemary wanted to talk to me. She was having problems doing a scan, and she’d also lost a Word file that she’d just saved. Could I help as it was urgent?

So how long do you think that I spent helping her? Five minutes? Ten minutes? Not a bit of it. I was there on line with her for one hour and fifty minutes, we didn’t find the files and I’m still at a loss as to what she’s doing and where her files are going. We tried everything to find them, even down to creating some more and savng them into a known directory, but when you are trying remotely to help someone four hundred and fifty kilometres away and you can’t see their screen, you’re relying completely on what they are telling you. And what she was telling me made no sense at all.

In the end, I’m glad that her ‘phone rang, otherwise I’d still be there now, I suppose.

But the answer to all of this is simple. I’m going to have to stop being so nice to people and somehow stop them bothering me like this. I can’t do anything, I can’t get anything started, never mind finished. I have so much to do and I’m living on borrowed time. Dialysis is taking up far too much of my time and I need everything that’s left so that I can push on with my own life, but all of this is driving me up the wall.

And that includes the food. For once in my life, I was actually feeling hungry, but look what happened to my mealtime. Instead, there I was at 20:30, when I should have been doing other things, putting half a dozen falafel balls into the air fryer, a diced potato in the microwave and adding them all to the rest of that nice potato salad that I made last week. What a meal that wasn’t.

Once I’d finished eating, there was the rest of the dictaphone notes.

There were three guys who were having a lesson in my apartment with a particular woman teacher. This lesson turned out somehow to be a rather nasty lesson and this woman left in quite a bad temper. Anyway, these three guys decided to set out and go after her. I tried to dissuade them but they just went out anyway. I made sure that the house was tidy and went out a little later on. saw these three boys going back, but they were each somehow sitting at a table and chair with wheels on it. They had a coffee or something, and they were pushing themselves along with their feet to go back to my place, so I avoided them and headed to the corner where my friends were due to meet me. They were all there, even the kids, and even this woman was there and she was most upset. There had been some kind of confrontation. Anyway, we all agreed to go back to my house, and when we arrived, there were these three tables and chair things parked in a car parking space in the street. It was the day of a strike or something, and someone was trying to pay for a parking fee without success, so we told him that there was no parking fee today. Anyway, we went into my apartment and I could hear music coming from one of the bedrooms, so I went, and these three guys were in there. One of them was in my bed and the other two were lounging around on it, so I told them that they would have to go now as I was having company, so they simply packed up, went downstairs and left. Then the people began to come in. One woman was smoking, so I told her that smoking was not allowed in my apartment but she made some kind of gesture and carried on, so I thought that I would deal with her in a minute. Everyone came in, including one actor-type guy. He was being his usual expansive self and he asked “what’s going to happen now?”. I said “you can always help in the kitchen making us some food”. He looked at me and said “no”. Then he went to find this woman and said “do you know what that man said to me? He said that I had to work in the kitchen, so I told him ‘no I’m not'”. She said something like “it’s OK” and then she said to me “well, don’t worry. He never helps anywhere”. I thought “well, if he doesn’t help anywhere, I can’t see him being allowed back to my apartment again”.

Believe it or not, I do actually know a thespian (or who thinks that he’s a thespian, anyway) who thinks like this. “I’m exceptional” and “I’m special”. And, in fact, he won’t be coming around here any time soon (not that he would anyway because he doesn’t live around here). My friend are lovely people, and we all chip in to do the work that’s necessary wherever we are.

It’s the same with the cigarette smoker. I know people like that too, and they won’t be coming to visit me either. There’s this thing called “respect”.

As for the rest of the dream, it doesn’t mean much to me, although the woman teacher could be my old friend Marianne who died in 2013. And I’ve been in an apartment like this before in a dream too, where there were loads of children hanging about. But that’s about it, I suppose.

There was something in that dream about a girl who had a Chrysler V8 sewn onto her jeans. I said that if I wanted to do that, I’d get one off my niece’s husband’s truck. She asked what he had and I replied that it was a big Dodge 5.8 diesel pickup and so we were talking for a while about these big American pick-ups after that.

My niece’s husband in Canada does have a V8 diesel, but it’s in a Chevrolet lorry, the one that I drove down to New Hampshire in the USA to drop off that racing engine that had shot a con-rod through the side during a tractor-pulling event. And I don’t recall it having a badge like the one on this girl’s jeans, but what does that matter.

Anyway, now that I’m starting to calm down and cool down after my outburst just now, and my notes are finished, I’ll finish off whatever needs fnishing and then go to bed. I have a hospital appointment in the morning and I have never felt less like going to it, but I supose that I must, although I’m not sure why.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about thespians … "well, one of us has" – ed … I’m reminded of the famous pathologist Dr Keith Simpson, performing an autopsy in front of a class of university students.
"In real life," he said "this man was an actor …"
And someone shouted up from the back of the class "well, if he’s acting now, he’s bloody good!"

LIVE: Monday 21st September 2026 – YET ANOTHER CHAOTIC …

… day at dialysis – just the same (give or take the odd bit here and there) as last Monday, and I wasn’t really in the mood for it, because I’ve had a chaotic day too.

Last night, it wasn’t too far short of midnight when I finally made my way into bed, and the good news was that I was asleep quite quickly.

However, it wasn’t for long, though. I’ve no idea what time I awoke, but as it was pitch-black outside, I’d say that it wasn’t much after 02:30. And once awake, I lay there tossing and turning and trying to make myself comfortable in bed so that I could go back to sleep, but nothing seemed to work.

At least, that’s what I thought, but round about 06:05 I had another one of those dramatic awakenings that I used to have regularly at one point. There was no point in going back to sleep at that point, with all of my appointments today, so by 06:15 I was in the bathroom organising myself ready for the onslaught. I even had a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant later.

There was actually something on the dictaphone from the night, as I found out on Tuesday morning, so I’ve added it in here.

There was something last night about me being sent to one of these RAF filling station type of places where people go after they have been injured or after they’ve been sick and their position in their regular flight had been filled by someone else. So I’d been sent to this place to meet up with other people similar to form a crew, and then I suddenly realised that I can’t have done that because I wasn’t born until nine years after the war ended so it’s just not possible for me to have been there.

There actually was a place like this at one of the RAF training centres, although it was hardly a “filling station” in the normal usage of the term. Bomber crews were assembled simply amongst themselves towards the end of their training and they usually stuck together throughout their tour of thirty missions. However, if someone were sick or injured, someone else would be co-opted into the crew and when the original member returned to duty, he would find that his place had been taken. Consequently he’d be sent to the “training centre” where he could team up with other people to form a new crew.

However, I’m impressed that within a dream, I can recognise the absurdity of the situation of being in this training centre at least nine years before I was even born.

Back in the kitchen, I put away the washing up from yesterday and made sure that the place looked nice. After that, I finished organising what I needed to take with me and then had a little snooze hunched over the table while I waited for the taxi to arrive.

The car was booked for 08:15, and my doorbell rang at 08:14. Excellent timing, that was. There was just me going in the car this morning. We had patchy fog all the way, not as bad as my chauffeur said it was when she started work at 05:30 this morning.

We arrived at the hospital bang on 09:00, and she pushed me in a wheelchair up to the hôpital de jour. I know that I have said that I won’t go in a wheelchair, but where I was going was miles away from the entrance and, at this time of the morning, the drivers have plenty of other things to do that accompany me, slowly and painfully on foot.

The nursing auxiliary and the nurse fussed around me when I arrived, and wasn’t the latter relieved when I said I had a chemotherapy port? It made her task so much easier and mine too because I could then type with both hands.

By about 09:40 I was up and running with this stuff to stimulate my red blood cells, and I was told that the treatment would last a little over two hours.

The bad news (at first) was that there seemed to be no internet up there, but I had a ferret around and eventually managed to conjure up something, so I watched LLansawel against Trefelin from Friday night. It was a miserable night last Friday, and playing football in a monsoon on a paddy field wasn’t very encouraging. It was something of a lottery out there and I don’t think that the teams could have been too dissatisfied with the end result.

As for the fans, though, it was no real spectacle. It was a long-ball hoof upfield and another long-hoof upfield in reply. I could count on the fingers of my hand the number of passes that found a team mate. I’m sure that in this weather, they would have been better off playing the ball to feet instead of in the air.

After that, I started Connah’s Quay Nomads v Cardiff Metro. I didn’t get to see much of it so I’ll tell you about it later.

During the morning, I had a visit from no less a person than Emilie the Cute Consultant. She came to see how I was doing and, once more, just like two years ago, she sat on the end of my bed while she chatted. The plan that they have worked out is that because they have still not been able to arrange anything with a haematologist, I’ll have to come here every four weeks for this treatment. And right on cue, the nurse came with my next appointment – Monday 19th October at 09:30.

And it really was nice to chat to Emilie the Cute Consultant. It seems that she still loves me.

Round about 11:50, the treatment was finished and the nurse unplugged me. She said that I had to wait for a while to let my head clear and, in any case, the taxi would be here to take me across the road at about 13:30. Waiting wasn’t going to be as bad as I thought, especially as I was brought a meal – stuffed tomatoes, bread, sliced pears and an apple purée. It was better than the coffee earlier, though, which was served in just about the oldest mug I have ever seen.

Round about then, I began to wonder when the nurse was going to come back to apply the anaesthetic on my arm. There was no sign so I asked the nursing auxiliary, who replied that all of the nurses had gone for lunch. So what are the connections going to be like with no anaesthetic, do you think?

The car turned up bang on schedule and took me across the road. I was there at 13:40 but had to wait until 14:30 to be plugged in. Had I known that the wait was going to be so long, I’d have persuaded one of the nurse there to apply my anaesthetic there and then as I arrived.

The connections were nothing like as painful I was expecting. In fact, I’ve had worse than those even when I’ve been covered in anaesthetic, so I didn’t mind too much.

Once I was finally up and running, I was left pretty much alone for the session. The low blood pressure alarm didn’t ring at all – not even once.

However, I was really feeling tired – I’d had a battle to keep away across the road – but here, I did actually fall asleep, only to be shaken awake by a nurse who was afraid that I was busy pushing up the daisies. And another one of the doctors came to see me to find out how I was doing. I’ve no idea what is the reason for this sudden popularity.

The next match to watch was the rest of Connah’s Quay Nomads v Cardiff Metro. Another game played in a monsoon, it was another one of these end-to-end games, but the Nomads’ class showed through in the end and they went on to win 1-0.

The old guy who was rushed to hospital last week was there today, looking much better. However, it was the turn of a woman this time who began to have problems. All the nurses and doctors congregated around her and in the end, my chauffeur was hijacked to rush her over the road to the emergencies.

They had begun to unplug me, but as everyone was finishing at the same time, I was left until almost last. The nurse came to offer her excuses, but I told her that although I don’t mind waiting, I’d be much happier if they left my machine running so that I could take advantage of the extra time.

Eventually, my chauffeur arrived, the young chatty guy. We had someone else to drop off en route so it was a miserable 19:05 when I finally arrived home. My cleaner helped me into the apartment and stuck a disgusting drink into my sweaty little mitt.

After she left, I made a quick tea – just a little potato salad because I wasn’t all that hungry tonight.

So now, having finished my notes, I’m going to try to have an early night for once.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the hôpital de jour … "well, one of us has" – ed … I overheard two of the nurses talking to each other
"I hear that there’s a case of brucellosis just come in" said the one.
"Oh well," said the other. "It’ll make a change from Lucozade."

Friday 19th January 2024 – GUESS WHO …

… has been in the Urgences at the hospital in Granville again this afternoon?

This morning at about 10:45 I had a ‘phone call. "Mr Hall, you need to come back to the hospital. We’ve picked up something on the X-Rays that might be important. Can you come this afternoon?"

So having arranged transport (which was a story in itself, which you’ll find out in early course) I arrived at the hospital.

They shoved me through one of these Stargate time-tunnel machines, one made by my former employer, General Electric, and then waited around for the results.

When someone finally turned up, it was "sorry, it must have been a false alarm. You can dress and go home". So off I went home, driven by a mad taxi driver (which was a story in itself, which you’ll find out in early course).

But it reminded me of the time after my bad car accident in 1986 when I was taxiing in Sandbach, and they gave me a brain scan.
"How did it go?" I asked
"No need to worry" the doctor replied. "We found nothing"
Well, quite …

But I digress … "again" – ed …

So there’s nothing wrong with my leg, they told me. They would have had a different opinion if they had been in bed with me during the night because I was awake for hours in agony. It’s not getting any better – in fact it seems to be getting worse.

And with a late night and all of these sleeping issues I felt like death when the alarm went off. And I forgot to take the ‘phone with me when I went to walk the parapet so the whole building was probably awoken by the second and third alarm.

Dressing was a struggle yet again and then, having taken the blood pressure, went for my mountain of medication.

Back in here I eventually managed to summon up the energy to transcribe the dictaphone notes, such as they were in the short time during which I was asleep. I’d somehow found myself at a dance and had ended up in the company of an Inuit girl to whom someone had introduced me. What I didn’t realise was that there was another girl whom I liked much better and who was actively trying to find me to begin to talk to me but of course when she found me with this Inuit girl she backed away. I didn’t find this out until later so I was rather annoyed with the person who presented me to this girl. Of course it was all my fault for getting together with her but anyway I was still annoyed. Eventually the girl began to chat to me so I explained to her about the confusion. She asked what had happened later on. I explained that the person responsible for the mix-up getting me together with this Inuit girl had ended up dancing on the floor with a group of people or someone or other and was quite happy where he was but they announced that they were going to divide the room into two – there would be a dance for the people from the reseau urban – the urban area and another one for the people from the pays lointan – the distant rural areas. He ended up being in a different area than where he actually wanted to be, or, at least, away from the people with whom he wanted to be. He was not happy at all so I thought that there was some kind of justice being served somewhere and that made me feel a little better

But why would I be upset about finding myself a nice Inuit girl?

Vaino Tanner, the Finnish anthropologist, went between 1937 and 1939 to Northern Labrador to live among the Inuit in order to study their lifestyle, customs and habits, and to report on the area in which they live.

In his report, “Outlines of the Geography, Life and Customs of Newfoundland-Labrador” published in 1944 he tells us that the Inuit girls –

are very hard-working around the house (and then goes on to list the tasks that they enjoy performing)
are keen to marry men of European descent
have an extremely sensual nature

It intrigued me how he discovered the third part of that trilogy so, believe me, having read his report, I was off on the next trip of the THE GOOD SHIP VE … errr … OCEAN ENDEAVOUR to the frozen North to conduct my own in-depth field research.

It was shortly after this that the ‘phone went berserk.

Throughout the morning I was negotiating my shopping list with my cleaner who was wandering around town carrying out her various errands.

The hospital at Paris rang up to find out how I was doing so I told them of all of my complaints here and there. After an extremely long and complicated telephone call, made harder by the fact that she dragged me back from being away with the fairies so I didn’t have both paddles in the water at that particular moment, she said that she’d speak to the specialist.

Next was the local hospital as I mentioned. I had to negotiate a taxi voucher from them but they could only do it for the return so they rang up my doctor to issue it. And I forget how many ‘phone calls I must have made to his secretary to confirm it

It still wasn’t ready when my cleaner, poor lass, went by to see and she broke the bad news to me when she came to bring me my shopping.

Nevertheless I phoned for a car and told them that we’d have to stop at the Medical Centre to pick it up. But when he came he said "I’ll pick it up later when I have more time". He’s not come back to me so I imagine that it must be OK.

The poor guy. Being quite busy he was in a hurry but he had to spend an age hunting down where I was supposed to go. Everywhere seemed to be closed. In the end, after what seemed to be a geological age and several phone calls, he found out that it was the Urgences, which is what I’d told his controller and I’m sure that I told him too.

One there I had to undress and wait a while before being put through the Stargate, and then wait a while for the results.

And now I know where the Grinch goes when it’s not Christmas. He works for the rival taxi company to the one that I use.

Bad-tempered and miserable, he told me that he didn’t have time to help me up the stairs so I had to telephone my long-suffering cleaner.

We hurtled through the 30kph limit of the harbour area at 75 kph and eventually screeched to a halt outside my building.

And his car – it was a “EA” plate, meaning that it was registered in March or April of 2016 and it had, would you believe, 320,000 kilometres on the clock. My next car (if there is one) will be a Peugeot 508 diesel.

My long-suffering cleaner helped me up the stairs to my apartment where I crashed into a chair and couldn’t move for 20 minutes. Then I made a hot chocolate and that was that for the day.

Tea tonight was wonderful. I had a raging fancy for a potato salad with my salad and vegan burger so

I diced some potatoes quite small and put them to boil
Half-way through I drained them to dispose of the starch, and then carried on with the boiling with fresh water and some dried chives
Meanwhile I took some vegan mayonnaise, added some garlic paste, lemon juice, vinegar and olive oil with some herbs (and there would have been some finely chopped raw onion in there too if I had remembered)
I whipped all of that up into a nice liquidy mix
Then I drained the potatoes, rinsed them to cool them down, put them back in the pan and added the sauce and mixed everything up together
When it was done I tipped it out onto the plate with the salad and burger – and ate it

And do you know what? It was absolutely out of this world delicious and I’ll make this again.

So now, much later than usual, having had a short (only 48 minutes) conversation with Rosemary, I’m off to bed hoping for a better night.

But hospital again? It’s really going beyond a joke. I’ll be moving permanently into a hospital at this rate.

And I know which one it will be. It won’t be one that we’ve encountered so far. They don’t have wards like that in general hospitals.

Thursday 16th March 2017 – I THOUGHT THAT YOU MIGHT LIKE TO SEE …

… my hotel.

It might not look very much from the outside but I’ll tell you something – and that is that it’s the first time since about 1990 that I’ve made a conscious on-the-spot decision to stay over for a second night in a hotel.

The staff is extremely friendly, the breakfast is adequate, the room is clean and tidy and the bed is one of the most comfortable that I’ve ever tried. And being right out here in the countryside, I didn’t hear a thing during the night.

The one problem with going to bed early though is that one has a tendency to wake up early too, and by 06:00 I was wide awake. I had to wait for breakfast though, which I’d booked at 07:30, and so I had the pleasure of David Bowie reminding me that it was 07:00 with his “Wake up, little sleepy-head. Shake off your clothes, get out of bed!” followed at 07:15 by Billy Cotton going “Wakey waaaaaaa…. KAY!”. Ohh the joys of “Audacity” and the ability to customise my own sound clips.

After breakfast, I sat outside in the sunshine and attacked some work that had been building up. That gave me an opportunity to have a rest and relax for a few hours. And then I hit the streets.

First stop was through the town and out the other side to the Auchan supermarket to negotiate some food for lunch. I had a good look at what was going on in there too because I wanted to see what was on offer because, as you know, I have some cunning plans. Finding the entrance to the car park was quite the thing though – it wasn’t all that easy.

once I was back on the road, I didn’t get very far. Only just about into the département of Loiret, where I came to a shuddering halt.

Here on the side of the road, jealously guarded by Rover, was a Peugeot 203 sitting here dans son jus as the French say. My ideal kind of vehicle and had it been a pick-up or even a van, I would have gone straight home for my trailer to tow it away.

It’s actually at the entrance to a car body repair shop, and it does serve a purpose just sitting here outside. That’s because inside, there are several other vehicles, including another Peugeot 203, that have been restored.

The garage proprietor explained to me (we had a very lengthy chat) that he has some excellent staff working for him and when times are slack he doesn’t want to lose them. So he picks up vehicles like this and his staff work on them whenever there’s a pause in the work.

It keeps them employed, and gives them an opportunity to demonstrate their skills by bringing something like this back to life.

But before long, in the beautiful sunshine, I arrived in Briare – or to be more precise, Briare-le-Canal – which was my destination for today.

And I had good reason to be here too. Being a Pisces and at home whenever I’m close to water, there are not many places closer to the water than around here. I have one beautiful river – the Loire, of course, and no less than three canals.

And not only that, a magnificent structure designed by Gustave Eiffel. The Pont-Canal (or aqueduct) de Briare, and it’s one of the most impressive of its type in the whole world.

But first of all, it’s lunchtime and I attack my butty with gusto. And I’m not alone here either because I’m joined by a woman from Paris in an old Fiat Multiplas who seems to travel just as I used to in North America, with everything inside and even a place to sleep.

She reckons that she’s even been as far as the North Cape in Norway travelling like this.

I have to say that I was very impressed, because it’s rare to see someone travel like that these days, and a single woman even more so.

So having had my butty and a good chat, I went for a wander around. A slow wander, it has to be said, because the day was really hot. Easily the best day of the year to date.

So to let me put you in the picture, let me tell you a little about the history of where we are. Everything here is centred around the first of the canals to be built here, and that goes back to, would you believe, the early 17th Century.

We mentioned yesterday when we talked about Cosne-sur-Loire that the river here was a major transportation route, right back as far as history records. Roman roads were of course very well-known and very well-built, but technology didn’t exist for the transport of large amounts of items.

We saw, when we were in Clamecy a few years ago, how the timber from the Forests of Morvan was cut down and floated off to Paris where it was used as firewood.

In any case, the techniques of road-building were for all intents and purposes lost once the Romans had passed on, and what passed for roads in early medieval days were nothing but beaten earth and descended into an impassible morass at the first sign of heavy rain.

There was thus no possibility of sending heavy loads by road, and so rivers became the only reliable method of transport.

Anyway, we move forward to the start of the 17th Century and the decision by Sully, the First Minister of King Henry IV to improve business between the different regions of France. Da Vinci had come up with the idea of canal locks and so Sully decided that a canal should be built to link the valleys of the River Loire and the River Seine, incorporating Da Vinci’s ideas.

Construction began in 1604 and after a pause following the assassination of the King, the canal was finally opened in 1642. It was one of the very first in Europe to use locks.

As boats became bigger and bigger, and traffic became heavier, navigation on the River Loire in places became more problematic. As a result, a canal was built in places parallel to the river to avoid the most difficult stretches of the river.

This section here that we can see runs (or rather, ran, because some of it has been abandoned) from Chatillon sur Loire to a short distance beyond Briare where it joins up with the original entrance to Sully’s canal.

But commerce, evolving as it does, required a new navigation system and this led to a modernisation of Sully’s canal and a “regularisation” of the route. This led to a new trace being built, and this required an aqueduct across the River Loire and the parallel canal.

In 1889 a decision was made to build the aqueduct across the river, and Gustave Eiffel and his company was brought in on the project, with construction of the metalwork entrusted to Daydé & Pillé. Construction began in 1890 and the first boat, the Aristide, crossed over on 16th September 1896.

662 metres long, the aqueduct is, and it’s absolutely beautiful. It became registered as a national historic monument in 1979 and what surprises me is that it took so long for its importance to be recognised.

And important it is too, because For many years it was the longest metal canal aqueduct in the world, maintaining its place at the top of the list until as recently as 2003 when it was overtaken by a new aqueduct in Germany.

And so I went for a beautiful walk across it and back along the other side today in the glorious weather. And I have to admit that I spent a good few minutes sitting on a bench, catching my breath watching a member of the Water Board painting the decorations on the pillars.

A coffee would have been nice too but astonishingly, there wasn’t very much in the way of cafés open. Just one in fact, but it was the kind of place where you needed a bank loan to buy a drink.

I just don’t understand people who are in business. Hordes of people wandering around and yet no-one seemed to be too interested in taking their money. Any self-respecting café owner should have looked out of his window, seen the beautiful day, seen the hordes milling about, and set out his stall accordingly.

It really is astonishing, the money-making opportunities that are being overlooked these days. No wonder there’s a recession at the moment.

Anyway, I headed back to my hotel and a lengthy chat with the landlord, putting the world to rights. And then back to my room for a doze followed by the remainder of my meal from last night. Potato salad is a very good standby and I’ll be doing this again.

Now I’m having an early night yet again. I need it.

Wednesday 15th March 2017 – THAT WASN’T A VERY NICE …

… night at all.

Not for any shortcomings of the hotel, I hasten to add. This was in fact one of the better Première Classe hotels (but still not as good as the one at Maubeuge last year of course) but nevertheless it took me an age to go off to sleep and then I tossed and turned a good while during the night.

A hot shower brought me round – sort-of-ish, and a good breakfast followed. I had a rest for a while afterwards, and then edited some music tracks so that I have some custom alarm calls and ringtones on my new telephone.

First stop was the Cora supermarket around the corner. And here was a thing.

Those of you with long memories will remember back many years ago about the Morrisons supermarket at Reading where the car park had a height barrier “to stop travellers entering the car park”, but also keeping out anyone with a high vehicle.

Here, they seem to have the same issues, but nevertheless they have managed to make a parking space for high vehicles and here’s a rather dirty Caliburn to prove it.

I’ve hit on a new plan for eating out in hotels, which I’ll explain later. It involves a visit to the shops and the purchase of certain items. But while the supermarket was good and objects at a reasonable price, the woman on the check-outs was useless. Far too busy talking to her friends in the queue to concentrate on what she was doing and as a result she was making mistake after mistake. Not a very good advertisement at all for the store.

Having given Caliburn a really good wash, I had a slow drive through the countryside towards the south-west and into the watershed of the River Loire.

Destination was the town of Toucy, still in the département of the Yonne. I’d driven through here on several occasions 9 or 10 years ago and I’d noticed the old railway artefacts here in the town. Today was the day that I had decided to come to see what was going on

The place was all locked up, and looked as if it had been that way for 10 years. Everything was rusting and decayed, including these beautiful diesel multiple-unit panorama cars.

The driver’s cabin is very interesting, isn’t it? But that kind of thing would never work in the UK with the restricted loading gauge on British railways.

The only British railway network with anything resembling a Continental loading gauge, the Great Central, was closed down in the 1960s.

This was probably the most short-sighted of all of the short-sighted railway “economy” measures of the Beeching era, and replacing it today for the HS2 network is costing the UK billions and billions of Pounds.

That’s the trouble with the UK of course – it’s all down to short-term economies and there isn’t an ounce of long-term vision in anything that the country does.

And they are going to find out that for themselves once Brexit begins to bite.

But leaving aside yet another good rant for a while, I carried on with my wandering around the railway … errr … museum.

As you can see, the exhibits, such as they are, have clearly seen better days and there doesn’t look as if there is anything going on here. There doesn’t seem to be anything in the way of restoration or renovation taking place on the … errr … exhibits here. They are just parked up and abandoned.

This is probably one of the saddest exhibits here on the site.

I don’t know anything very much about French railway locomotives and the like, but this looks as if it’s something quite unusual and interesting – far too interesting to be just stuck here in a siding and left to rot away.

It’s all quite depressing, wandering around here and seeing all of this.

These little locomotives were quite interesting. Yard shunters, I reckon, and made by Baudet Donon and Roussel in the early 1950s.

It’s a little-known fact that this company is actually the successor of the company founded by Gustave Eiffel, he of the tower fame. The company branched out into the construction of railway locomotives and multiple-units, and quite a lot of the company’s equipment found its way onto the French railway network during the period of modernisation after World War II.

These little machines weigh a mere 14 tonnes, are just under 6 metres in length and flat-out, they will travel at all of 16kph.

Mind you, with a Renault 60 horse-power PETROL engine, 8-speed gearbox and chain drive, you aren’t going to get much more out of her.

They were the first locomotives to come of the new SNCF standardisation process after the War and replaced all kinds of assorted yard shunters, including horses and, in at least one case, oxen.

They were essentially a temporary measure and withdrawal of the class started in 1979.

Railway tourism seems to be the up-and-coming thing these days, and this can be accomplished in many different ways.

You might also remember when we were in New Brunswick, Canada, back in October last year, that we saw that old railway bicycle that I admired so much. Combine the two together, and you’ll end up with something like this.

Mind you, it would be really exciting meeting another similar vehicle coming the other way on a single-track line. “Survival of the fittest” is what springs immediately to mind.

There’s a pile of narrow-gauge railway equipment here too, and they have laid some kind of track to accommodate it.

It looks very much like mining or quarrying equipment to me, although there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of mining around here and I’ve no idea where there might be a quarry.

But like everything else around here, it’s all lying around abandoned and there’s no signage or anything to indicate what all of it might be

One thing is quite clear though.

In the past, I’ve been totally scathing of what passes for “preservation” of railway and other historical artefacts in North America. Having seen what is (or isn’t) going on here, I’m going to have to keep my mouth closed, or else start eating some rather large helpings of humble pie.

I couldn’t leave the site though without taking a photo of this sorry machine.

It’s a Van Hool Alizée of the mid-1980s, lying here abandoned in the yard, and it brings back many happy memories for me. 25-30 years ago, I was earning my living travelling around Europe in one of these with piles of tourists when I worked for Shearings Holidays.

Beautiful machines, especially when built on a Volvo chassis, but this one is rear-engined so at first I thought that it might be a Scania. However,it turns out to be a MAN and I never had the opportunity to drive one of these.

Ohhh happy days!

As you may (or may not) know, I have a degree in Historical Technology and just down the road from Toucy is Guedelon.

Guedelon is an extremely interesting place and very high on my list of places to visit because what they are actually doing is building a Medieval castle from scratch.

Not only that, they are using nothing but construction techniques of the period, including man-powered cranes and the like.

You can imagine therefore that this was a place that was also very high on my list of places to visit, and so I set off chaud-pied, as they might say around here, to see what I could see.

But regular readers of this rubbish will know exactly what I discovered when I arrived here.

That’s right. The place is closed “for the season” and despite all of the people wandering around the site pretending to work, it wasn’t possible for me to gain admittance, even just for the purpose of taking a few photos.

That was something that I found extremely miserable.

However, it’s not all doom and gloom because as I arrived at Cosne-Cours sur Loire, I encountered this magnificent beast, and it’s another sad and sorry machine having been abandoned to the elements, despite its rarity value.

It’s a Delahaye fourgonette – I reckon a type B163 – and it’s the type of chassis preferred by the French fire brigades in the early 1950s for the building of specialist vehicles.

But it’s rather a shame to see it sitting here out in the open in a field like this. As I said – I’ll have to stop criticising the North Americans.

By now, it’s time for (a very late) lunch and so I head into the town. The River Loire passes by here in all its magnificence and there’s a nice park across the river from the town that’s a very suitable place to stop.

And, as you have probably noticed, the clouds have gone, the sun is out and there’s a beautiful blue sky to sit and watch me as I eat. It’s a marvellous afternoon and I intend to make the most of it.

The town itself is another one of these beautiful, cramped Medieval cities that has unfortunately seen better days.

There seems to have been a settlement here in Prehistoric times and there was certainly a … errr .. Gallo-Roman settlement called Condate here.

With its comparatively easy crossing of the Loire here, it was the centre of several confrontations throughout history. As far as the British are concerned, its claim to fame was that during the Hundred Years War, Henry V was marching here to meet the Burgundian Army in 1422 when he caught dysentery and died.

His premature death effectively marked the end of any serious hopes that the English might have had of making a permanent conquest of France.

By the 17th Century there was a thriving metallurgical industry here and this was the basis of the wealth of the town. It manufactured fittings for the French naval industry and these were shipped out down the Loire to the naval shipyards downriver.

However the French railway network caused a decline in navigation on the Loire and the metallurgical industry closed down in the 1870s. Some vestiges of the industry lingered on for a while but it all eventually petered out and led to the slow decline of the town.

Today though, it’s the second-largest town in the département of the Nievre after Nevers and as a result it’s become something of an important regional administrative centre.

There’s a beautiful suspension bridge here across the river and this is what had attracted me to the town. I’d never had the time to stop here before.

Unfortunately it’s not the original bridge here. That dated from 1833 but unfortunately that was destroyed during the Second World War. The bridge that’s here today dates from the 1950s but nevertheless, it’s still a magnificent structure and the setting here is tremendous.

Having had a nice walk and a good relax to read my book, I headed off to my hotel. It’s a little place right out of the way in the countryside about 2 miles from the river.

But I’m not alone here- not at all. There’s a 1944 Dodge Lorry – a veteran of the US Army parked here in the barn by the side of my room. It’s certainly the right hotel for me, isn’t it?

And my room is nice and cosy too. This was a good choice.

Tea tonight was something so simple that I’m really surprised that I have never ever considered it before. It’s so easy too, especially in a hotel bedroom and I shall be doing this kind of thing more often.

Half a tin of potatoes, half a tin of mixed vegetables, half a tin of mushrooms and some lettuce all mixed up in salad dressing. Followed by a soya dessert and a chocolate soya drink, with one of these packets of fruit-and-nut mix.

Simple, effective and healthy. You can’t say fairer than that.

And I’ve had a shower, washed my undies and now I’m settling down for the night. See you in the morning.

EPIC HALL

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