Tag Archives: ratatouille

Thursday 12th March 2026 – TONIGHT’S TEA …

… wasn’t as nice as some have been just recently. And I’ve no idea why that might be, because it’s a tea to which I’ve been looking forward for over a week.

Something else to which I’ve been looking forward since Monday morning was a good night’s sleep, but one again, I was thwarted in my ambitions.

Last night’s tea, nice as it was, took so long to prepare, eat and clean up that I ended up running hours late. In fact, I didn’t go to bed until about 23:45 and I need much more beauty sleep than that, especially as I’d been awake so early in the morning.

To go from bad to worse, it was another turbulent night and I felt as if I hadn’t gone to sleep at all. When the alarm went off at 06:29, I was dead to the World and it took me an age to summon up the energy and the courage to head for the bathroom.

Even though Emilie the Cute Consultant doesn’t love me any more, I still had a shave. I might as well go through the motions, even if I don’t feel like it and they are of no earthly purpose.

In the kitchen, I made my hot lemon, ginger and honey drink to go with my medication and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out what had gone on during the night. And that was a disappointment too.

It was round about 03:30 when I definitely heard someone shout “aren’t you getting up yet?”. I wondered what time it was, and looked at the clock. It was 03:30 so I don’t know who it was who had awoken me.

When I looked at the timestamp of the soundfile, it showed 03:31, so this dream obviously had some basis in fact somewhere. But that’s a few times now when I’ve either heard a phantom alarm or heard someone shout out during a dream.

There was also something about the bandage and plasters after dialysis but I can’t remember too much about that. In fact, I can’t remember anything really other than the bandage and the plasters.

And this kind of dream makes me wish that there was much more to it than that which I recorded. Or else, it’s my subconscious stopping me from going too far into “what happened next”.

The nurse came along to sort out my legs and feet, and today he remembered to put the things back into the drawer and to close it. I’m glad about that because I shall rapidly lose patience if he doesn’t tidy up after himself. It’s bad enough that I don’t.

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

Today, we’re reviewing the position in the Ionian Islands. At the moment, the Venetians are clinging on to a precarious foothold as the Ottomans slowly surround them and hem them in. We’ve already had a few important raids, and I suspect that there are many more to come.

Back in here, I had a few things to do, and then I turned my attention to the radio programme that I started yesterday. All of the music is now paired and segued, and quite a lot of the notes have been written. I can finish this off tomorrow morning, provided that my visitor doesn’t come too early.

My faithful cleaner turned up to apply my anaesthetic, and then I had to wait for my taxi to arrive.

And I was in luck. It was my favourite taxi driver and we had a lovely chat all the way down the coast to Carolles to pick up someone else and then another drive down the coast to Avranches.

Once again, I was early. It was 13:40 when I arrived, but it made no difference because I wasn’t connected up until 14:50. And then, they set the dry weight to what it had been two weeks ago and so there was almost nothing to take out. And they forgot the booster for the blood pressure. I don’t know what’s the matter with them these days.

But once I was connected, they left me pretty much alone. Even Emilie the Cute Consultant, who was the duty doctor today, kept to the far end of the room, well away from my clutches.

At least they didn’t hang around too long to unplug me, but it was still 18:50 when I climbed into the taxi to come home.

When I arrived here, I had to be dropped off at the rear of the building as there was a howling gale blowing up outside. My faithful cleaner helped me in, and believe me, I was glad to be home.

Tea tonight was a vegan burger with pasta and ratatouille, which I didn’t enjoy as much as I thought it might. The birthday cake and home-made ice cream were nice, though, but tomorrow will see the last slice of that disappear.

And right now, I’m going to disappear too because I’m off to bed. And to sleep, if the stabbing pain all down my foot will let me. Right now, it’s the worst that I’ve ever known.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my strange dream … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of an old Tommy Cooper story.
"I once knew a man who dreamed that he was awake" he said.
"And what happened?" asked someone in the audience
"Well, when he woke up, he was!"

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Tuesday 17th February 2026 – HAVING WAXED LYRICAL …

… yesterday about how much better I was feeling, I was brought right back down to earth this afternoon when I had one of those famous collapses that I have every now and again.

And it was looking so good too.

Last night, I strolled through everything that I needed to do. Nothing seemed to stand in my way and I was actually in bed by about 22:15, having finished everything that needed to be done. And it’s not very often that I can say that.

Not only that, I was asleep quite quickly too. However, you don’t need me to tell you what subsequently happened. You’ve heard me say it often enough, and you are probably just as sick as I am of hearing about it.

So there I was, at 04:15 this morning, lying in bed, trying my best to go back to sleep but without any success at all. In the end, round about 05:45, I dragged myself out of bed and, in a mad fit of enthusiasm, dictated all of the radio notes that were outstanding.

It has to be said, though, that I made a right dog’s breakfast of more than just a couple of them. Probably because at that time of morning, I can’t see straight enough to read my notes and I’m not awake enough to concentrate. There will be piles of editing to do, but it can’t be helped.

After I’d finished, I staggered off into the bathroom to sort myself out, and then I went into the kitchen for my hot drink and medication. I really do like this hot lemon, honey and ginger drink, despite all of the rubbish that I’m obliged to take with it.

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

I dreamed that I was working for Birmingham City Transport. I was in a double-decker bus that had Route 454 on the front. I wondered where I was going because no-one had said a word to me. I tried to set the destination board to 000 but I somehow couldn’t manage to do it. It was displaying all kinds of numbers. The next thing that I remember was that I was in the middle of Birmingham Bus Station, in the middle where the buses wait to find an empty bay. Someone came along and said that I was in the wrong place. There were already one or two people on board so I set off to do a lap around the bus station to look for the bay for the 454. Everyone complained that I hadn’t picked up passengers, so I told them that I was doing a lap round to find the correct bay. They explained to me where I had to go, and there were half a dozen people waiting there, so I picked them up and drove out of the city centre. I had no idea where I was going, and we went there and these areas of total devastation where there had been acres and acres of demolition. By that time, there were just these two women on board. They explained to me that I had to take them to some kind of house where they were going to go for a visit. Of course, I knew nothing about this. No-one had told me a thing. I didn’t even know where this house was, so they said that they would guide me. In the end, we ended up walking through the countryside, chatting about all kinds of things, washing clothes in salt to remove bloodstains etc. And the views were wonderful. We met two other people and had a quick chat and just carried on walking into the countryside and we walked for miles. There were these two old Swedish Volvos parked at the side of the road. I noticed them, and they had foreign plates, but I couldn’t identify the plates at the moment. We were just chatting for hours as we walked through the countryside, and I had no idea at all what I was supposed to be doing.

Now, this was a strange dream, if ever there was one. Firstly, I’ve never driven a double-deck service bus. Plenty of coaches of course, and plenty of single-deck service buses but not a double-deck service bus. and as for driving around Birmingham, I know the various ways in and out, but I’d be lost completely if I had to drive a service bus route. However, there was a Birmingham bus route 454 that ran from the city centre out to Smethwick and that way.

So what would I be doing there? And why would I end up walking miles through the countryside with two women past a couple of pale green Volvos, two of the very last 164 models (I can still see them).

As for removing bloodstains, at dialysis yesterday a large load of blood was actually spilled onto my T-shirt and needs to be cleaned.

There was also something about being at home with Nerina. She was drinking a bottle of beer, and she said that this particular beer was really nice. I said that my friend from Munich might be coming to stay for a while, and he likes a special kind of beer, and my brother likes a certain beer, so if my friend from Munich comes to stay we’ll fetch a few beers of each type and we can have a nice night in, and she seemed to like the idea. Then we decided that we’d have to tidy up and she wanted to put some things in the fridge. The fridge was full, so I had to shuffle everything around and in the end, I managed to fit these things in but a couple of bottles of wine wouldn’t fit on the shelves inside so I had to move some things out of the door shelves to put the wine in there and to put the things that were in the door shelves into the fridge somehow. But the bottom shelf of the fridge was full of peat and that kind of thing, composted soil. I had to dig a hole in it to stand these bottles of wine upright in it.

This is probably a little more like it. Nerina wasn’t a beer drinker, but she would appreciate a very good beer very occasionally. I know that my friend does, because there’s a special order here every time that he tells me that he’s coming round.

We were much more into wine back in the old days, Nerina and I, and back in the days thirty or forty years ago, a plate of cheese and a bottle of Burgundy would have been our heaven. Planting a bottle of wine in the soil in the fridge is a novel idea, though.

And why would my brother be rearing his head in the middle of a convivial gathering?

The nurse was really early today – barely 08:00. But the sooner he comes, the sooner he goes and that suits me fine. I could push on, make my breakfast and read some more of MAIDEN CASTLE EXCAVATIONS AND FIELD SURVEY 1985-6 by Niall Sharples.

And we are reaching a really interesting point in the book, a point that has me fascinated. Firstly, he and his team are able to interpret the climate to such a precise extent that, judging by the state of the soil and vegetation immediately underneath it, they can tell you that the prehistoric burial mound in the middle of the hillfort was begun when it was pouring down with rain. And it doesn’t become any more precise than that.

Furthermore, by examining the mollusc (snails, etc.) remains in the various layers of soil, his team can tell you that the land was first climax woodland, then cleared, then abandoned and returned to scrub and woodland, then cleared again, then overgrazed and overworked, then heavily eroded and left to grassland with occasional farming. Different types of molluscs flourish in different types of soil and vegetation, and examining their remains in the different layers of soil can pinpoint the vegetation (or lack thereof) at the time.

But interestingly, I was dragged off on a tangent to an article about the “Beaker People”. Their culture (there’s a dispute as to whether the people came with their culture or not) arrived in Southern England round about 2500 BC and died out round about 1800 BC, to be replaced by the Bronze Age. What is significant about this period is that during that relatively short time period, about 90% of the genetic make-up of the population of Southern and Eastern England was displaced by an equivalent genetic make-up from Eastern Europe.

Back in here later, I had a few things to do and then I read a couple more chapters of my Welsh course book to do a little revision. However, what with my Teflon brain, nothing will stick.

After that, I had an important task to perform. What with one thing and another … "and until you make a start, you have no idea just how many other things there are" – ed … I hadn’t filed away my correspondence for well over six months, and there were mountains of paperwork everywhere. So I sat down, sorted through it, threw away a pile of unnecessary paperwork and then filed the rest.

It goes without saying that I really ought to be much more organised than I am, although I have said that a hundred times before, and still, nothing has changed.

My faithful cleaner turned up later and shooed me into the shower for a good scrub up and so that I smell nice, not that it will make much difference, I suppose. And then afterwards, we did our monthly sort through the medication and organised a few other things too while we were at it.

After she left, I came back in here to sit down, and that was when I was overwhelmed by an enormous wave of fatigue. I crashed out completely, and for over two hours too. I don’t think that I’ve ever been so far out as I was this afternoon. So much so that when I was finally able to move, I had to have one of these caffeine-laden energy drinks.

Eventually, I managed to pull myself together again and I finished choosing the music for the next radio programme, reformatting where necessary, re-editing and reconverting it.

Tea tonight was a vegan burger with pasta and ratatouille, followed by the last of the jam roly-poly. I’ll have to think of a new dessert for tomorrow, but if all else fails, I bought some tinned fruit, having had my taste buds titillated by the fruit that my neighbour brought me the other week.

But that’s tomorrow. Right now, I’m off to bed, later than usual. And who knows? Maybe I might have a good sleep tonight. Wouldn’t that be nice?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about shuffling … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of a friend of mine from when I lived in Chester who was bewailing his back luck at the racecourse during one of the racing weeks.
"I don’t understand it" he said. "If I’m having a game of cards, I usually always win, but at the racetrack, I never seem to win anything"
"Well, you shouldn’t blame yourself" I replied. "It’s not your fault that they won’t let you shuffle the horses."

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Tuesday 10th February 2026 – I’VE HAD ANOTHER …

… horrible afternoon today. And it was going quite well at first, too.

However, the scene was well and truly set last night because, once more, with not too much food preparation needed, I whizzed through everything quite rapidly, and I was in bed by 22:00, feeling much better than I might have been.

But with having been in bed early, and with it having been a dialysis day, I shall let you lot imagine how the night went. I shan’t bore you by repeating it.

So there I was, at 02:00, tossing and turning, trying to go back to sleep for hours and being totally unsuccessful for quite some considerable time. At one stage, I was even toying seriously with the idea of leaving the bed.

Eventually, though, I must have gone off to sleep because I awoke again. And then back to sleep, to be awoken by the alarm.

It was even more of a struggle than usual to leave the bed this morning but I eventually managed to struggle into the bathroom. But by the time that I’d made it into the kitchen, I was running later than I would have liked.

First this was to make the hot lemon, ginger and honey drink, and the second thing was to take my medication.

While I was at dialysis yesterday, the doctor examined my chest and said that I ought to go back onto the antibiotics because the cough is coming back. So having some left over from last time, I took a couple.

And do you know what? About five minutes later, I began to cough and sneeze, and the streaming nose was back. You couldn’t make up a story like that.

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 dream about some archaeologist or someone talking about a hoard of pottery that they had discovered somewhere. The guy was coming out with a story that it was obviously a gift by someone to someone else whom he loved back in the eleventh century BC. For that reason, it was quite a unique and exciting find. But there was more to it than this and I can’t remember it now.

No prizes for guessing to what this dream relates. But the idea of giving gifts to lovers back in the eleventh century BC is certainly a novel idea and seems to have come from out of nowhere.

I had a girlfriend who lived in Audlem and she rang me up saying that she’d like me to go round. So round I went in the van and arrived at her house. For some unknown reason, I knocked on the fence instead of the front door. I’ve no idea why. She came rushing to the door with a great big smile on her face, really pleased to see me. I’m not used to being greeted like this by anyone particularly but at that point I awoke so I don’t know what happened

As it happens, I had a couple of girlfriends who lived in Audlem, but that’s yet another story that the World is not yet ready to hear. As for the girl in the dream, though, she was a girl whom I met in Brussels who moved to Croydon and then to Swindon. We saw each other once or twice but then she decided that she wanted marriage and a family.

But it’s true – no one is usually as pleased to see me as that girl was last night during the dream.

There was also something about me going away, so I was packing food into the back of the van but I could never get it to how I wanted it to be so I kept on taking it out and putting it back in a different way, but that just seemed to make it worse and worse. In the meantime, while I was doing this, someone shouted something about a black car, saying that it was being wrapped up etc, but someone was climbing into it to drive it away. It turned out that it was a taxi and this guy jumped into it to drive it away. A policeman was there, who tried to stop him but the guy leaped back out again with a huge piece of wood and attacked the policeman, then jumped back into the car and drove off

This is another dream that relates to absolutely nothing at all.

The nurse turned up after his week away, and he was rather impatient today. I imagine that he has a lot of patients waiting for him back at his office.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of Mortimer Wheeler’s MAIDEN CASTLE .

We finally managed to finish pottery, and we’re now on metal objects, such as rings, brooches and weapons.

Considering that many of his critics claim that there’s no evidence to support his claim that there ever was heavy fighting at Maiden Castle, the collection of arrowheads and spearheads clustered around the entrance to the fort is impressive

But surprisingly, he identifies a brooch and some matching pottery of a type that was common in Dorset and Somerset during the period 400 BC – 250 BC and notes that a sample of an identical type of brooch and pottery was found at a vitrified fort from the same period at Dunagoil on the Isle of Bute in Scotland guarding a seaway. And Dunagoil means, in yr Hen Ogledd, “fort of the foreigners”.

So I wonder what the connection might have been.

Back in here, I revised for my Welsh and then went for the lesson. It was another lesson that passed very well due to all of the preparation that I did. And I wish that I could be able to remember it all because it gets on my nerves that I can never ever remember anything half an hour later. I really do have a memory problem.

My cleaner turned up after the lesson and shooed me into the shower where I had a good wash and a change of clothes, and I feel so much better now.

Or, at least I did, because not long after I started to choose the music for the next radio programme (and that’s becoming more and more complicated as the music becomes more and more obscure), I felt the wave of fatigue arrive.

By about 16:00 I was slumped over the desk, flat out asleep, and by about 16:45, I was in bed, fully clothed, even down to the slippers. I just couldn’t carry on.

While I was asleep, Id been off on a ramble, as I found out next morning. And no-one was more surprised than me.

I had an E-type Jaguar, a hardtop. A group of us had gone to some kind of bar in the countryside. I remember running over the pebbles to this bar with no shoes on and it was killing my feet. We stayed there for a while, and then it was about 23:40 so we decided that we’d go into a club. A group of us, we all set out and left the pub and again, I had to run over these pebbles in my bare feet. I reached the car, and one of the doors was open and the toolbox was at the side of the car. There was only one wheel on the car. Then I remembered that my brother had been messing about with it before we went into the bar. I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t put anything back nor why he’d taken the wheels off. I had to find the jack and jack up one side of the car, which was not quite so easy because the jack wouldn’t balance correctly – it was one of these peg jacks on a leg. Eventually, I could raise the car off the ground and one of the guys coming behind me slammed the wheel on quick. I could drop the car down on that side then. He asked if I needed wheel nuts, but I had some, but as I was trying to set these wheel nuts going, one of them wouldn’t start. It took me ages to fiddle around with this wheelnut to try to make it start, but it still wouldn’t start

Not that I’m ever likely to own an E-type or go into a bar. But running over pebbles is probably some reference to the pain that I have in my right foot.

As for my brother, you can bet that somewhere along the line, someone from my family would turn up.

It was about 19:45 when I awoke, and had it not been for the fact that the ‘phone rang at that moment, I would probably still be asleep even now. Instead, though, I headed off into the kitchen for tea. Pasta, vegan burger and ratatouille followed by fruitcake and soya dessert. And for some reason, I didn’t enjoy it as much as usual.

But right now, if the stabbing pain in my foot allows me, I’m off to bed. I’ve had some of the cough mixture that I’ve been prescribed and apparently you aren’t allowed to drive while taking it because it sends you to …

… zzzzzzzzzzz.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the strange after-effects of the antibiotics this morning … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of when I once went to Prestatyn years ago.
"Come to Prestatyn" said the adverts. "It’s good for the rheumatism."
"And was it?" asked my friend.
"Absolutely" I replied. "I’d only been there a couple of hours before I caught it too".

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Thursday 27th November 2025 – FOR TWO PINS …

… I’d have gone back to sleep after the alarm sounded this morning. It was another one of those days when I have never felt less like leaving the bed.

If the truth be known, I should have gone to bed much earlier than I did, but as usual these days, I dillied and dallied and dallied and dillied and generally managed to waste a lot of time while I was finishing off the evening’s work. As a consequence, it was another evening that was much nearer 23:30 than anything else, and probably approaching from the wrong side too.

Not that I was all that tired either. That sleep that I had at the end of the afternoon probably had an influence on everything because, apart from everything else, it took a good while for me to drop off once I’d finally made it into bed.

At some point I remember waking up, but it wasn’t for very long and I was flat out, dead to the World when the alarm went off. And what wouldn’t I have given to have been able to have gone back to sleep. However, with the nurse coming around every day, a real, proper lie-in these days is quite impossible.

It was a real struggle for me to rise up from the bed before the second alarm, and then we had a desperate stagger into the bathroom for a good wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant at dialysis this afternoon.

In the kitchen, I made my hot ginger, honey and lemon drink to wash down my medication, and then I came in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was going out with a group of US Cavalry to make a large armed patrol into Native American lands. I was appalled by the lack of security that was going on there. There was a General in charge, and he was insistent that the natives wouldn’t attack because we were so numerous, but I thought that that was a crazy situation to suggest because they will attack when you least expect it, in a manner that you least expect it and a place where you least expect it. You need to be at security all the time, for example, at night, he just set up a kind of camp on the plain and didn’t mount any serious attempt at pickets or guards. About a mile away, there were some rocky slopes. That’s where I would have gone to have my camp at night – amongst the rocks on the slope where you are pretty much hidden from view from what’s happening down in the valley, and you would have immediate defence if there were any problems and you came under attack.

These books that I have been reading about the US cavalry in the late Nineteenth Century are clearly preying on my mind. I must be doing too much reading, I suppose. It’s interesting that I’m happy about giving tactical advice to US generals but seeing the mess in which managed to find themselves in Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan etc, it’s not too difficult.

Later on, we were on board a train heading from Italy to Germany. It was one of these super-high speed trains. It was travelling at an incredible rate of speed, and it came to a new tunnel that was twelve and a half miles long so it shot into this tunnel and out the other side. I went and stood outside the carriage for some fresh air after that, but when I looked back in, all of my seats had been taken and there was no room for me. I waited for a moment until we stopped at a station, where everyone alighted except my friend and me so I could sit down again. Then we thought about making breakfast. There was a kind-of grill in each carriage so we made some breakfast, bacon, sausage, things like that. Suddenly, my friend looked at the time and said “we’ll be in Munich in an hour and we haven’t made the beds or anything”. He asked me if I would go to fetch the suitcases, but I explained that I didn’t think that I could manage the two suitcases on my own, so he began to become agitated. “And what are we going to do about making the beds?” he asked.

Unfortunately, I’m not likely to find myself on a train these days, least of all travelling between Italy and southern Germany, much as I would like to. It’s simply a totally impractical proposition, never mind being able to sit outside the carriage.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up to give me my injection, and then she sorted out my legs. Her happy mood is still continuing, which is nice. I don’t know what it is that she takes, but I wish that she would give me some.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of ROMAN ROADS IN BRITAIN. We’re up on the moors right now, north-east of Manchester, and I’m still tracking down these camps along the way, trying to identify them.

Back in here, I had things to do and then I rewrote some of the radio notes to make them longer. I can dictate them the next time that I awaken early, I suppose.

My faithful cleaner turned up to fit my anaesthetic and then I had to wait for the taxi. Once aboard, I had to go to the depot to witness a game of “musical chairs” as they swapped drivers around. Once I had my new driver, I could set off, but I was still late arriving.

It took a while for me to be seen, and once more they took a measurement of my dry weight. When they coupled me up, they didn’t want to take everything off but I managed to persuade them. If I’m not back for four days, I want to be ahead of the game as much as possible.

Emilie the Cute Consultant was there today but she ignored me again. She really doesn’t love me any more, which is a shame. I was left pretty much alone all through the session, something that suits me fine.

The taxi was waiting for me when they unplugged me, so I wasn’t back home as late as I was fearing. I had pasta, vegetables and ratatouille for tea, followed by some of my ginger cake.

While I was at dialysis though, they gave me a booklet that included a recipe for a pear cheesecake, and I reckon that I can make it into a vegan recipe with no difficulty. I shall give that a try one of these days.

But not now because, having already fallen asleep once while I was typing my notes, I’m off to bed before I fall asleep again.

But seeing as we have been talking about the Romans … "well, one of us has" – ed … I was chatting to a friend about Roman numerals
He told me "I have enormous difficulty trying to remember Roman numerals. If you asked me how you write, for example, 1, 1000, 51, 6 and 500, I wouldn’t have a clue. It makes me really angry."
"Is that so?" I asked.
"Oh yes" he replied. "I’M LIVID"

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Wednesday 19th November 2025 – PART THREE OF …

… my offensive did not go according to plan this afternoon.

After all, you can’t fight a battle if they don’t send anyone out to fight you.

What it does prove though, are that the tactics of many generals during a war, such as the Russians against Napoleon in 1812, of quite simply withdrawing your army and letting the enemy roam around haphazardly inside your territory are quite often the best tactics because they wear down the enemy and in the end, the enemy loses its morale as its supply lines lengthen and resupply becomes impossible. That was how I was feeling at the end of the afternoon.

That was a huge disappointment, because I’d been looking forward to this for the last twenty-four hours.

Last night ended up going to bed rather later – in fact much later – than I had intended and it took an age to fall asleep, probably due to all of the sleep that I almost had yesterday at chemotherapy.

And once asleep, there I lay until all of … errr … 04:10 when I had another one of these dramatic awakenings. This time, I knew what had awoken me. There was a howling gale outside and it was blowing a huge rainstorm against my bedroom window. I’m experiencing all kinds of new sensations since I moved into this downstairs apartment at the front of the building.

It was impossible to go back to sleep with all of this going on, so at 05:30 or thereabouts, I left the bed and headed for the bathroom.

Neither medication nor breakfast this morning – what doesn’t go in won’t want to come out, that’s my theory for this morning. So instead, I came back here and listened to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was some famous businessman whose name I won’t mention who owns several limited companies and was outwardly a very wealthy man and he had spent £2.400.000 on a coach which he had fitted out as some kind of luxury travelling accommodation. It turned out that the coach was registered in some completely different name and the leasing payments stopped on the coach. There was an issue about it being repossessed so the reporters were on his trail. In the meantime, I was with a couple of other people and we were talking about the future. One of the things was the Ford Ranger. The Ranger’s bodywork was fairly rotten but we weren’t sure about the chassis. However, being an old American style of vehicle, the bodywork would come off the chassis. So I was thinking about taking the bodywork off, inspecting the chassis, welding it where necessary, then either buying a new body or repairing the old one. Everyone was encouraging me to go back to learn welding again, only this time, argon-arc welding, do the job properly and take it from there. We were out in the Ranger, and one of the people with us was a newspaper reporter. As we were going through the West End of London, we came across this guy threatening his wife with an axe. We pulled up at the side of the road and she came over. We asked her about this £2.300.000 coach, but instead, she climbed into the vehicle and asked us to take her away, so we did. However, he climbed into another vehicle and began to follow us. We decided that this wasn’t going to be a situation that was acceptable, so we drove into some kind of narrow entry where there was an exit at the far end, and we stopped. Our aim was to immobilise his vehicle and leave him there, and then carry on driving. He stopped behind us, but he came out and began to attack our vehicle with an axe. The newspaper reporter climbed out, and I climbed out too. Our aim was then to go ahead and neutralise this guy, and then to neutralise his vehicle.

The name of the guy has been removed from my account of the dream because there really is a businessman of this name whose business affairs have attracted the wrong kind of attention, and while there is no record of anyone having successfully won a slander or libel case against someone who has had a dream, there is always someone willing to try and there is a first time that such a case might be won. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed …. the whole state of Western society has gone downhill fast since solicitors have been allowed to tout for clients.

There has, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, been some discussion in the past about doing something with Strider, the Ford Ranger in Canada, and this part of the dream refers to that. And although I enjoyed my gas-welding course very much and did quite a lot of gas-welding afterwards, I really should have concentrated on argon-arc welding instead.

The nurse took me by surprise, coming at 06:25 this morning. He took my blood pressure and then sorted out my legs. Then he cleared off and I went into the living room to wait for the taxi.

It was the senior driver who picked me up and we went across town to pick up another lady who was also going to chemotherapy. The drive was interesting because I’m sure that the driver has an issue with his vision. In the dark, in the rainstorm, he was driving along at 50 kph in an 80 kph limit at times, and wouldn’t put his foot down on the autoroute. I’ve noticed previously that in the dark he seems to be disorientated.

As a result, we were twenty minutes late arriving at Rennes, twenty more minutes than we should have had listening to the non-stop chatter from the lady in the back who never seemed to know when “enough” is “enough” and talked all of the way about the most inconsequential nonsense.

At the hospital, I was plugged in pretty much straight away and, for a change, everyone avoided me, which was nice. It was a shame that I wasn’t tired. The chemotherapy finished at 10:15 and at 10:30 I was on my way out of the door.

Travelling with the taxi company and the new rules from the Sécurité Sociale about combining trips and passengers, I’m seeing parts of Normandy that I never knew existed. Today was no exception and we ended up exploring the isthmus between the Sée and Sélune rivers.

As a result, I was back home at 12:15, all alone because my faithful cleaner was out on her rounds dealing with some of her other clients. So I had a disgusting drink and then made breakfast.

After breakfast, I … errr … crashed out on my chair for an hour or so, which is no surprise to anyone after the early start today.

Back in here, I ‘phoned the Centre de Ré-education and asked to speak to Elise the Dishy Doctor. However, she refused to speak to me and I had to speak to her secretary.

The secretary was gasping with surprise by the time I’d reached today on my list of medical appointments. She was speechless by the time that I’d reached Saturday. She agreed that I was doing far too much, given my state of health. She told me that she’s speak to the doctor about what’s going on and confirmed my ‘phone number.

Whether she will or not is another story, but certainly, no-one has as yet returned my call. As I said just now, it’s impossible to fight when your opponent won’t come out to fight you.

After another pause for a rest, I was interrupted by the return of the nurse to take my blood pressure this evening, and then for the next while I began to sort into the correct order the radio notes that I’d edited and began to assemble to program.

Tea tonight was a ratatouille with chick peas and pasta, followed by the last of the chocolate cake. And for once, I finished everything. I’m not sure how, though.

So tomorrow, we’re having dialysis so I’m off to bed. But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my latest offensive against my medical appointments … "well, one of us has" – ed … I’m reminded of a case in the Courts where the then-junior counsel FE Smith was arguing with the judge.
"You are extremely offensive, young man!" said the judge
"As a matter of fact we both are" replied the future Lord Birkenhead "and the only difference between us is that I am trying to be, and you can’t help it."

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Thursday 21st November 2024 – HOW LONG IS IT …

… since we’ve featured any photos on these pages?

snow hospital granville Manche Normandy France Eric Hall photo 21st November 2024And how long is it since we’ve featured a photo with snow in it?

And what I mean is “real snow”? And while these photos may not be so impressive, I wasn’t the one who was driving so I couldn’t photograph just anywhere, otherwise you would have had photos much more exciting than these to look at.

Anyway, for the coast of Western Normandy, even this amount of snow is impressive and enough to bring the whole region to a shuddering halt. For November, it’s totally unprecedented. But our taxis ploughed valiantly onwards so that I could see what was going on.

snow hospital avranches Manche Normandy France Eric Hall photo 21st November 2024So while you admire a few photos of yet more snow that we encountered, I’ll say some more about my day today.

Starting of course with last night. Although not in bed early, it was before midnight when I finally crawled into my stinking pit after finishing off everything that needed doing.

And once in bed, there I stayed for the rest of the night, thinking that I can’t have moved a single muscle during the whole of the night, optimism that turned out to be misplaced as it happened, but I certainly can’t remember anything about it

snow hospital avranches Manche Normandy France Eric Hall photo 21st November 2024When the alarm went off I arose from the Dead, just about, and had a very slow walk into the bathroom. But not before switching on the rest of the heating in here, because I noticed that the outside temperature was 0°C – freezing point.

While I was washing I noticed that not only had I lost the protective netting over my arm, one of the two plasters had disappeared too. I wonder where that had gone. It’s a good job that my arm hadn’t bled any during the night.

Back in here I found the missing objects. They were in the bed . I must have moved about quite a lot in order for them to to have come off my arm. I would have expected to have known about it, anyway. But I wonder what I must have been doing for that to happen.

First thing that I did afterwards was to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was something in a dream about going to to war and colonising some particular area, how it was very important to wear your uniform exactly as it had been supplied and wear it exactly where it fitted properly and where it was supposed to be rather than where if felt more comfortable on your body because if you had it somewhere where it wasn’t supposed to be it would sweat and make life really uncomfortable for you but that’s all really that I can remember of that.

I stepped back into that dream too and when the alarm went off I was having a lengthy discussion with someone about something or other but the alarm going off totally disrupted my whole train of thought which is a shame. I would have loved to have found out where this dream would have led me.

So with nothing of any real significance, except, maybe that I managed to step back into a dream that was 76 minutes previously, which is a good memory for the subconscious, I waited for Isabelle the Nurse.

When she arrived she told me about the freezing conditions, the fact that it had begun to snow, the excitement on the streets and the general chaos in the town as everyone struggled to come to terms with the snow. If the temperature drops a few more degrees the département will be paralysed.

After she left I made breakfast and read my book. I’ve finally some to the end of Samuel Hearne’s adventures which is a shame because not only did I gain much from reading them, his glossary of fauna and flora at the back in even more interesting.

If only John Hornby had read them.

John Hornby, or “Jack Hornby” to the few friends that he had, was the son of the famous rugby player and cricketer who lived in Nantwich and is buried in Acton Churchyard near my aunt. He went out to Canada on several occasions to explore the Wilderness and the Barren Grounds. However in 1927 he and two companions starved to death on the Thelon River in the Barren Grounds.

They had gone to follow the trails of the migrating animals and to live off the animals that they captured.

Hearne makes the point that even some of the First-Nations people who have lived amongst the migrating animals for generations have starved to death. He says in his book "in some years, hundreds of deer may easily be killed within a mile of York Fort; and in others, there is not one to be seen within twenty or thirty miles. One day thousands and tens of thousands of geese are seen, but the next they all raise flight, and go to the North to breed.".

He concludes his notes with "I am persuaded that whoever relies much on the produce of the different seasons, will frequently be deceived, and occasionally expose himself and men to great want." – advice that Hornby would have done well to heed.

However, had Hornby taken a copy of Hearne’s book with him, he would also have had a great many hints on how to obtain an enormous amount of food out on the Barren Grounds. Some of it would have been unpalatable to European tastes but it’s better than starving to death.

After breakfast I came back in here where I paired off the music that I’d chosen yesterday for another radio programme, and then segued the pairs together. However I was taken by surprise by the taxi driver.

The new rules and regulations come into force today apparently and now if there are journeys to and from the same area within a 10 km radius of pick-up and drop off, the taxi proprietor is obliged to combine them as long as they do not result in a delay of more than 45 minutes. The taxi company had three trips – two others and me – that fell in this category so we all had to pile in together

Half an hour early, and not being anything like ready, I told the driver to go to pick up someone else and come back. I sent a frantic message to my cleaner who dashed here to fit my anaesthetic patches and help me dress and pack, and then we made it downstairs into the wind and snow to await the driver.

When she returned I piled in and we went off to the hospital to pick up our third passenger and then we had a drive through the tempest and blizzard to Avranches.

In case anyone is wondering, I’m not complaining about these new arrangements. I’m having for free something that is available in no other country in the World, as far as I am aware. Free and for nothing. I’m grateful that it exists and I would do anything to keep it and prevent any abuse.

However I might have thought differently when they came to plug me in. The anaesthetic hadn’t had time to work and I knew all about them plugging me in, as I suspect does everyone else in the neighbourhood now.

And then I had another one of these cataleptic fits that I have every now and again

Once I recovered I read my Welsh again and then read some of the reports of the crew of the Sieur de Roberval who was chasing after Cartier on his third voyage. However I was interrupted by a nurse who brought me an appointment with an ophthalmologist and a doctor who brought me a prescription for a pedicure.

But an eye test? Which nurse did I call “beautiful”?

And I’m admiring the precision of Roberval’s pilot who is giving his measurements clearly, even if they are in leagues. A league could be anything back in those days – there was no fixed measurement – but as I can now identify some of the points between which he works out his distances I’ll be able to work out what was Roberval’s idea of a league

When they unplugged me I headed out for the taxi and it was the same driver who brought me down. We had a little chat on the way back in the snow, and slid the car a couple of times on the ice, once into the kerb.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me and watched once more as I climbed up all of the steps unaided. I really must keep this up.

Tea tonight was something out of a tin. I wasn’t feeling too adventurous. I’ve had a hard day and I’m going to bed for a good rest (I hope).

But all of this snow in Western Normandy? What do you make of that? It’s not like the Auvergne (which has had a shed-load over this last 24 hours and is currently without power) or Canada but it’s still impressive.
But still not as impressive as what went on with radio station KHAR in Alaska in the early 1970s with the newsreader reading out details of the daily snowfall in various cities – "and Helena got six inches during the night" and then hastily explaining himself " . . . Helena, Montana, that is"

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Thursday 28th September 2023 – AS BARRY HAY …

… once famously said – "there’s one thing that I gotta tell you, and that it’s good to be back home".

And no-one was more relieved than me when I collapsed into my chair here with my mug of hot chocolate at 18:15 this evening.

It had been a very long day. I’d had a bad night and was actually up and about by 06:40.

After breakfast I had a shower to prepare myself for my departure at 11:00, packed everything away and made myself ready.

While I was waiting, I transcribed the dictaphone notes. I was in a railway station. There were two guys there with two ancient locomotives, a diesel shunter and a small diesel main line unit who had volunteered to come and help me at the stations When they arrived they parked up their locomotives, stepped out and walked down to meet me. They were immediately intercepted by some kind of Security who were unhappy for some reason and made them climb into their machines and drive away. At that point the SNCF service came along and offered to help me. I let them help me, and they asked some kind of questions , one of which was something like “what was I going to do for food at midday?”. I replied “I’d had a couple of people who had come to help me and they had probably brought something for me but you chased them away before they could even manage to talk to me so I don’t know now”. That rather upset them but I thought that it was correct to be true and honest with them.

After that I can’t remember who I was with now but the person was either male or female, I don’t know, had been engaged to make a cake for someone. The woman involved had come to see her to order a simple cake. They were there discussing styles and ideals etc. In the end the two of us and the woman and her friend, an elderly woman, rather plump, went for a walk and discussed it. We passed a lorry with a lorry-load of turf that was going to re-turf someone’s garden. I remember that I’d seen them when I was there last week ripping up the old turf so it must be the day for them. Our walk continued. The woman then said that she was going to have to try to find someone to make a quick cake for her because she had someone coming tomorrow. I said “what about an oil-based cake?”. She didn’t understand so I explained that it’s simply flour and sugar, oil and flavouring all mixed together. You pour it into a mould and then cook it. What I do with mine is to take it out, cut it in half, coat both halves with jam, stick it together and ice it. It’s really quite simple. Her friend, the old woman, looked at me and said “tell me, Eric, are you married?”. I replied “no I’m not actually” and her eyes lit up. I thought “I’m going to have a couple of problems here”. We ended up at a railway station and I’m not quite sure why or what we were going to do now that we’ve arrived.

And I’m impressed that I could remember a cookery recipe during a dream.

Finally I was with Nerina again. We’d been to see some friends in England. We were on our way back to the ferry. The girl whom we’d visited took us on a nice scenic route through the countryside then along the sea front all the way towards Dover and the ferry terminal. We were having a nice, interesting chat. At one moment Nerina tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to something huge in the bay. She asked “is that the American carrier?” because I’d heard a story that an American aircraft carrier was in the English Channel. I looked and sure enough, it was. I went to find my camera but I didn’t have it. I’d left it at my friend’s. I went to find my little Nokia phone but I couldn’t find that either. I realised that I hadn’t had that since I’d set the alarm the night before. I told her and she gave a great big sigh and said that we’d have to go home but you’ll miss your ferry. She was going on about inefficient people etc. I said “it’s not the first time that it’s happened to me. She dismissed it with some kind of shrug of the shoulders. Later on we were leaving Dover in the Jetfoil. It was moored in some kind of underground dock so when we boarded we couldn’t see very much. We boarded and they must have opened the gates at some time because suddenly the ship began to rock quite violently. It was reversed out to the Channel and shot off at a ridiculous speed across to arrive from: Dover in an hour’s time. It was really quite uncomfortable, the Jetfoil.

Just as I was about to depart I was pounced upon by a group of students who wanted to examine me, and then a series of blood pressure tests and so on, followed by a wait for the documents that I need. It was 12:45 when we finally left, with my neighbour having had to hang on for all that time.

There was no time to go for lunch but I’d grabbed a few bits off the lunch trolley so It wasn’t so bad. My neighbour helped me to my seat and then the train set off.

At Granville there were no taxis free so I took the bus into town and staggered down to the port for the bus to my place. But one of my neighbours came past in her car and gave me a lift, which was really nice.

She helped me up the stairs by carrying my backpack, and then I made myself a hot chocolate and came in here where I crashed out.

Later on I had a bizarre tea. For some strange reason I’d fancied ratatouille so I put a large potato in the oven, found a vegan burger and I actually did have a tin of ratatouille in the kitchen.

So now that everything is done, and the notes for the last few days are now on line, I’m going to bed to sleep for a week and not awaken.

But I bet that you’re dying to know about what has happened at the hospital.

They’ve found no major trace of the cancer in my nervous system, but there’s a slight swelling in several glands that might be a result of an infection. They are proposing a second series of transfusions which apparently may be dona at home, and then a return to the hospital in a month to see what’s happening.

At least, even if they can’t find the solution, they are quite prepared to keep on trying, and that’s always good news. We’ll have to see now how things unfold. But look out Paris! Here I’ll be coming again.

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Friday 19th January 2018 – MYSTERY SOLVED.

new harbour gates port de granville harbour manche normandy franceI now know what the shipping containers and the crane down in the harbour are all about. And unfortunately it’s nothing to do with a nes ship coming to the port.

I’ve always said that if you want to know the answer to the question you need to ask the question, so while I was out and about on my travels I went down to where everything was assembled and buttonholed a workman.

The harbour here is tidal as you know, but there’s the deep-water bit where the larger visitors tie up and that has a pair of tidal gates across it so that the water stays in the basin so the ships will stay afloat.

And it seems that we are going to hae new lock gates. All of the pieces are here, and the containers are simply tool stores and offices and the like.

So with the new gates we might be having some new visitors. Who knows?

I had another miserable night last night. I ended up watching a film – Austin Powers as it happens – and as you know any film normally sends me to sleep after 5 minutes. But not last night. I could have watched the film two and three times over had I so desired and I still would have been awake.

But I must have gone to sleep at some point, because I remember waking up. Still dark, long before the alarm. And by the time the alarm sounded, I was up, medicated and well on the way to breakfast.

It didn’t look very hopeful outside with yet more driving rain, but round about 09:45 the rain stopped and we had a very watery sun. “If I don’t go now I never will” I mused, and so off I set.

One of the places on my travels was the laboratory. There was an extra charge that I had to pay because they had to examine part of it again. Apparently I’m missing something in my body (and it’s not a brain).

And then to LIDL where I bought a baguette, some pears and some biros.

Now here’s a thing.

I need a black pen to fill in a computer input form, and there in one of the bins at LIDL were several packs of pens, some coloured blue and others coloured black. So I bought a pack of black ones, like you would – only to find that they have blue ink inside. How weird is that? I’ll go back tomorrow and buy some blue ones and see what colour ink they have.

On the way back, I called at the port as above, and then staggered (because it really was a struggle) back up the hill for a coffee.

This afternoon I made a start on the correspondence. And that wasn’t as easy as it might have been either because the last time that I updated my letterhead was in 2011 and a lot has happened since then. I had to redesign it completely from scratch.

Then I needed a pile of attachments so first of all I had to scan in a few documents. And then spend the next half hour looking for them in the laptop. But then I could write my letters (I managed three today) and print them, as well as all of the attachments.

And not only that, I could print off a few things. It’s a good job that when I received my French driving licence back in 2009 I scanned it into the laptop, because now I have a reasonable facsimile to use with my “declaration of loss” if I’m help up in a police spot-check. It’s good to finally have a working printer

It’s always a good plan to scan your official identity documents for cases such as this.

storm st pair sur mer manche normandy franceIt was then walkies time and as the rain was still holding off – just about – I went out for my afternoon walk around the Pointe du Roc again.

But look at that storm out there! Drifting along – and quite rapidly too – in the general direction of St Pair sur Mer. And as I watched, they got the lot too. It really was something quite impressive to see and I’m glad that it went over there and not over here.

Mind you, it did start to rain shortly after that, but nothing like what they had over there.

digger in tidal basin port de granville harbour manche normandy franceAnd down in the tidal basin the digger was out there again digging away. So I stopped to watch him for a while.

And to my surprise, there’s nowhere provided for him to dump the silt that he’s excavating. He’s just swivelling his jib around and dumping it elsewhere.

And so he can’t be dredging the basin then. It’s almost as if he’s looking for a body or something like that. I shall have to go for a walk down there sometime and see if I can find out what he’s up to.

Soup for lunch again, and tea, because I didn’t know what I fancied to eat, was baked potatoes and a tin of ratatouille. And that’s significant because that was the last tin of ratatouille from the European tinned food mountain.

Still plenty of other tins of other stuff from back then, but it’s all looking optimistic that ine day sometime soon I might clear it all out.

The walk this evening was punctuated my a couple of showers, and also by a couple of cats – I took a different route up on the walls to avoid the muddy footpath. So according to my fitbit I’ve done 113% of my daily effort today which is quite impressive.

In a short while I’ll be off to bed, and I’ve clearly earned it. I just hope that I can make the most of it.

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Saturday 14th January 2017 – PHEW, I’M WHACKED!

I’ve had a really busy day today and I’m going to pay for it tomorrow. But ask me if I care!

I’ve always said that I’ll do what I have the opportunity to do whenever I have the opportunity to do it, and today was just like that.

Remember when I went shopping with Alison last weekend? She ended up not buying a ski suit but she did manage to pick one up during the week. But she decided that she would go to look for another one today – in Aachen, Germany, to be precise. Did I want to go?

Well, do bears go for picnics in the woods?

Last night was another typical bad night with an interruption in the small hours as usual. And that’s annoying me as you can imagine. But I made it into the kitchen for breakfast bang on time all the same.

Now here’s a thing that is more than unusual. it’s more than surprising too, and certainly extraordinary. And that is that I was down at the Delhaize in town, doing my shopping and back in my room afterwards for 09:00. When did that ever happen?

By 11:00 I’d showered, shaved, had clean clothes, all of that and gone outside where Alison was waiting for me.

aachen germany january janvier 2017And so, all aboard, we headed off eastwards down the motorway to Aachen. We farhn, fahrn, fahrn’d down the autobahn, in fact.

The weather could have been better though. It was cold, although not that cold, and grey and overcast with snow flurries throughout the day.

We arrived at Aachen where the snow had beaten us to it, and first stop was to sort out some clothing for Alison.

aachen germany january janvier 2017While Alison was searching around in the shops I went for a little wander around in the vicinity. Of course, when women are buying clothes, there’s plenty of time to do that, and even more so when people are in the queue for paying.

It seems that almost everyone in the city was shopping for ski-wear. After all, it’s Carnival quite soon and this is the traditional time for the kids to hit the slopes.

aachen germany january janvier 2017From there, we walked up the hill into town past some nice fairly-modern brick-built buildings that looked quite nice and blended quite well into the surroundings.

A coffee was next, and Alison knew a pretty good cafe. And I’ve drunk much worse coffee than that, I can tell you. I was surprised though, that there was no public toilet in there. I wonder what the EU would have to say about it.

But it does reinforce everything that I have said about the different attitudes that different countries have. Most countries agree to everything, and then have a very lax attitude about enforcing it. The UK fights tooth-and-nail, wasting everyone’s time, about various legislation, end then enforces it to the most ridiculous lengths. Remind me to tell you one day about the tip at Leek.

city square aachen germany january janvier 2017After the coffee we went off up the hill into the city centre, and while Alison went off in search of a woolly hat to go with her new ski jacket that she had bought, I went off for a wander around.

Luckily, Aachen was spared the worst excesses of the Allied terror-bombing of World War II so there is a great deal of the medieval city remaining, despite the American shelling and the SS demolition squads during its capture in October 1944.

And while it’s not the most attractive medieval city that I’ve ever visited, it certainly retains a lot of its charm.

town hall rathaus aachen germany january janvier 2017The Town Hall, or Rathaus, which I always thought was a quite appropriate name for a town hall in any country or any language, was damaged during the capture of the city, but you would never ever think so from just looking at it.

And I don’t just mean the quality of the restoration either. The building could do with a really good clean for a start and it would look so much better if they were to take the time to do it.

town hall rathaus aachen germany january janvier 2017One of the things that I did like about the Rathaus were the beautiful medieval wooden buildings – a pub so Alison told me, that were attached to the side, taking advantage of the stone wall of the Rathaus at the back.

It’s not the first time that we’ve seen this style of construction. There’s the same kind of construction in Belgium at a church near the Bourse that has wooden buildings constructed against it. It certainly saves on construction materials

aachen germany january janvier 2017Round the side of the central square was another small square tucked away out of sight. Alison told me that there was a restaurant there that had vegan food advertised on the menu, so that sounded like a good place to go for lunch.

It’s over there at the back, on the right, hidden by what look very much like historical remains. And I was intrigued to see these remains still standing – they look like the kind of remains that would have fallen down years ago.

living room aachen germany january janvier 2017Alison had a salmon steak and new potatoes, and my vegan ratatouille made with fresh vegetables of the day was even better. It was a little over-priced in my opinion, but it was still delicious and light years away from a bag of chips.

It too was served with sliced new potatoes and that worked so well that I’ll be trying this as soon as I can, now that I have a bag of spuds to play with.

But I didn’t think that the name of the restaurant was appropriate – fancy calling it the Living Room, which could be translated into Lebensraum, the project which concerned the Nazis invading Eastern Europe and exterminating its population.

And I shan’t say anything about setting the décor on fire either.

cathedral aachen germany january janvier 2017Outside the Living Room there was a view of the cathedral, to the right of the historic arches, and if you excuse the building work and the crane thing in the way.

It’s not the best view in the world but unfortunately, like many other well-preserved medieval cities, the cathedral is tightly hemmed in by buildings and it’s not possible to do any better than this.

If the RAF and the American artillery can’t clear the scene, neither can I

cathedral aachen germany january janvier 2017The cathedral itself is a magnificent pile and I expect that you are waiting with bated breath to see a whole raft of photos of the gorgeous interior, the tomb of Charlemagne, and all kinds of relics, including building materials such as marble that were sent by Pope Hadrian I to incorporate into the construction

Unfortunately there was a person loitering just inside the interior whose task it is to pounce upon anyone pointing a camera at anything, and demand a “licence fee” for the privilege of so doing.

Clearly the cathedral authorities have never ever heard of “Christian Charity” and don’t understand the concept of “sharing”. It’s not the first time that I’ve passed comment on the quality and value of the treasures contained in a church – something that goes totally against the concept of Jesus viz “give all thou hast to the poor”, but when it even comes down to naked exploitation and profiteering of the idea of sharing images of what the church possesses, then I’m convinced that there is something totally wrong with the church’s morality.

The oldest part of the Cathedral dates from 792 and is part of Charlemagne’s Palace – probably the only surviving part. And its rare octagonal shape is an indication of its age.

The stained glass therein is stunning too and all in all, it’s quite an impressive building. One day I shall go back – alone – and bring you back some photos to demonstrate what I mean.

medieval city centre aachen germany january janvier 2017The streets surrounding the cathedral are not without interest. Small, tight and cobbled – the very typical medieval street scenes that were swept away in the mid-20th Century in most cities in the UK

And this sculpture was quite exciting too. All of the models on it are mobile and can be manipulated around. It drew quite a crowd and I had to wait ages for a suitable opportunity to photograph it, when there was no-one else loitering in the vicinity.

old ruins aachen germany january janvier 2017Aachen is quite a historic city.

Settlement dates back to neolithic times and was settled by the Romans, attracted to the site by the warm sulphur springs. It was in fact on the frontier of the settled Roman area.

Excavations have taken place in the city from time to time and some of the discoveries are on display, like this site in one of the town squares that is surrounded by a glass case. I particularly liked the idea of the drainage channel just here in the foreground.

The warm springs are just lower down from where these ruins are located, and I went off for a taste. Very sulphuric, and quite warm too. The taste was disgusting, but I had to try it. No point in being here if you don’t do something like that.

There is no photograph of the springs, and no photograph of the plaques with the list of names of the notable personalities who came here to take the water. This was because at this moment we were engulfed in something of a snowstorm.

shop window aachen germany january janvier 2017As the snow eased off we walked back to the car.

Parts of the town are still decorated for Christmas, and some of the shop windows are phenomenal. This was one of my favourites, with the snowmen and other winter scenes, but there were plenty of others too.

And I can’t get over the bakeries either. I love German bread – there is just so much of it and it’s all good, and Aachen is no exception. Thoughts such as working out where the railway station might be in connection with the railway line to Leuven started to run through my mind.

As it grew dark, we hit the highway and headed for home. The return journey was quite quick and I was back here by 18:15. Many thanks to Alison for a good day out.

My day wasn’t finished though. OH Leuven were playing at home against Tubize, kick-off 20:00, so I braved the snowstorm and the freezing cold to go down there, grabbing a bag of chips on the way.

OH Leuven stadion den dreef afc tubize belgium january janvier 2017For a change, I wasn’t behind the goal but high up in the stand along the touchline level with the edge of the penalty area. A grandstand view, especially of down there where I usually sit.

AFC Tubize looked the better side and they had a player, the n°97, who looked streets ahead of anyone else on the field. His name is Jae-Gun Lee and he’s a recent signing, aged just 19, from Korea.

He’ll go far in European football, that’s for sure. Remember that you heard his name first on here

OH Leuven stadion den dreef afc tubize belgium january janvier 2017But OH Leuven went into the dressing room 1-0 up at half-time, rather against the run of play, thanks to an audacious step-over in the penalty area that totally flat-footed the Tubize defence.

I said that there was still plenty of time for OH Leuven to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, and how prophetic those words were. From the first attack of the second half, Tubize won a penalty and it went all downhill after that.

OH Leuven stadion den dreef afc tubize belgium january janvier 2017And so in the torrential snowstorm that we were having, OH Leuven’s hopes drifted away. Tubize ran out 3-1 winners, and ended with the crowd booing the home side and cheering on the visitors.

That was rather harsh because OH Leuven had tried very hard, but their final ball was always falling short of where it was supposed to go. Nevertheless, they had plenty of chances to equalise, if not to win. But it was one of those games where nothing at all went right.

I walked back, freezing cold, and I’m tired and ready for bed. And I know that I’ll pay for all of this effort in the morning.

I’ll leave you instead with about 2,000 words and hope that you enjoy it.

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Wednesday 15th February 2012 – THIS WATER ISSUE …

… might have solved itself.

And for several different reasons too.

frozen water drainpipe les guis virlet puy de dome francef you see that icicle in the photo here that I took a week or so ago (the weather was nothing like that today of course) it started to melt today. And so I simply stuck a bucket underneath it.

Meantime, I took one of those plastic drinks bottles, the type with a very long pointed neck, and cut the bottom off. Then I stuffed a load of fine fibreglass mesh up the neck.

Each time a bucket was filled, I poured it through my home-made filter into one of these proprietary jug filters and let it filter through there, and then I decanted it into my water container.

I managed to capture about 40 litres over the course of the afternoon and that’s eased the situation considerably.

However like most things, solutions don’t come on their own. Like London buses, after you’ve been waiting for hours, three turn up all at once.

And so it is with this. By the end of the afternoon the water butt had started to unfreeze itself.

Not that that’s a quick solution, because I looked inside the rear tank and that’s a frozen mass of ice, but I still managed 5 litres out of there as well.

And the third solution? Well, after all the freezing weather that we’ve had just recently, it’s p155ing down outside. All the snow will be gone by tomorrow if it carries on like this, and then we will be in the floods again. Then we’ll be having a different kind of water problem.

Despite a constant stream of interruptions today, I’ve now started on the final row of the tongue-and-grooving in the bedroom.

That involved finishing off the previous row, moving piles of stuff around the room, and then mixing some polyfilla to fill in the joins between the wood and the insulation that is already in the ceiling.

Maybe if I have a decent day tomorrow I can crack on with this. It would be nice to have it finished for the weekend.

One thing that has helped is that this row is by far the narrowest of them. When I’ve been doing the other rows and cutting down lengths of tongue-and-grooving, I’ve always been left with leftover bits that wouldn’t fit anywhere.

I’ve been labelling them with the size, and these are all fitting into the row that I’m doing now. This will save me a load of time cutting up full-size lengths.

For tea tonight I had ratatouille, green beans and baked potatoes. This time the potatoes were done properly and it was one of the nicest meals I’ve had for ages. It was definitely a good plan to move the kitchen up here for the duration.

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Wednesday 1st February 2012 – I’M CALIBURN-LESS…

… at the moment.

He’s gone to the mender’s for his annual check-up and I fear it’s going to be another expensive one as apparently he has a warped front disc. And that might explain why the tyres have been wearing unevenly and also why the braking has never been as good as I would have liked ever since he was new.

But something to do with me that is “warped”. That’s no surprise to anyone, is it?

So this morning Caliburn and I dug ourselves out of a snowdrift and headed off to Montlucon. And I found a car wash that was open (despite the cold) next to the LIDL, so Caliburn could have his annual bath.

I was quite tempted myself but mine’s not due for another couple of months or so. But Caliburn is clean, anyway and the salt has been washed from out of his wheel arches.

At the Auchan, where I did some desultory shopping, I came across, at long last, a decent camera bag. The right size, with lots of pockets and so on. It was expensive, but then again so is my camera equipment and leaving it rolling around on the floor of Caliburn is not really a solution.

I also bought some tins of ratatouille for the storeroom, having noticed the label and thinking “that’s just the brand for me!”. But with lesdyxia luring KO, a closer look at the label revealed that it is in fact branded “Pre-vert”, or ‘Green Meadow’.

Ahh well.

Having left Caliburn at the garage on the edge of town, I had to walk into the centre to meet Liz who had been teaching there today and who had offered to bring me home.

And dressed up in layers of coats and jackets with gloves, hat and furry boots to counter the Combrailles weather, while Montlucon was basking in a barmy mere -2°C, it made me feel like Nanook of the North. and I spent a good while looking around, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.

I did however catch a glimpse of myself in a mirrored door, and I reckoned that I looked just like someone whose trawler had just docked in the harbour. Ahhh, the sartorial elegance of it all.

Back home, we are about to experience something of a crisis – we’ve run out of Christmas cake! Whatever am I going to do now?

But the good news is that I’m sitting here in my little room, basking in a balmy 23°C while outside, it’s -6°C. And all done on free fuel as well.

What an excellent buy this woodstove was!

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