Tag Archives: rosemary

Wednesday 11th December 2024 – I HAVE BEEN …

… a busy boy again today and accomplished quite a great deal of stuff. So it’s hardly surprising that I’m feeling pretty much whacked right now.

Not that it’ll make much difference as I have a great deal to do tomorrow and Friday, and maybe even Saturday morning too. It’s all go here!

What I need is another early night like the one that I had last night where I was in bed a good few minutes before 23:00, and when I can do that, things are looking up.

Last night, for some reason or other I was finished by 22:20 and even hanging around for a while didn’t make it too late. I was asleep quite quickly too, with the hatches battened down until the morning. I don’t think that I moved at all

At some point during the night there was a young girl who was living on her own and having attendants, rather like the juvenile Queen of a country somewhere. I don’t remember very much and I can’t have gone very far into this dream when the alarm went off. However it was another one that could have been extremely interesting and it was a shame that it finished so abruptly.

It took me a while to gather up my wits – I can’t believe that they spread out so far so quickly – and when the room stopped spinning round I could stand up and head to the bathroom.

After the bathroom I headed off to the kitchen for my morning drink and pile of medication, which doesn’t seem to be shrinking any

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what happened during the night. I was back in the early modern era. I was in bed and trying to rise up but every time I tried to dress something came along to interrupt me, like a visitor or something like that so I had to dive back into bed as they came. This happened two or three times with someone like that coming along and me having to dive back into bed

Later on I was out walking with someone last night (so I’d obviously managed to finally leave the bed) and we’d walked miles. We’d been in the hills and had slowly started to come down out of the hills, just following a map. We hadn’t really all that much idea of the terrain at all or of the route except that which the map showed us. There was a path shown on the map so we followed it as best as we could. We didn’t meet anyone at all until we’d come down quite low when we saw some people wandering around. They took a track which led down into the valley. I asked my friend if that was ours. He replied “no, it’s the next one”. Then we had to think of a way to cross the motorway. We looked down and there was a motorway along the floor of the valley. We pushed on and when we were a little further down we saw a path that branched off from our farm track or cart track and this went straight down to the valley. There was a fence and then a footbridge over the motorway. We thought “we’re obviously not the first people to have come this way and to have found the utility of there being a bridge across the motorway here”. This bridge took us to the railway station which was on the other side of the motorway. We said to ourselves “well, when we arrive in town we’ll deserve a really fine meal. We’ll have a right slap-up nosh at tea-time after all our exertions”.

There was also something somewhere about going back to the family (as if that is ever likely to happen), wondering how long it’s going to be before they actually notice that I’m walking without using my crutches and things are all back to normal but I don’t know where that fits in at all

My long-term ambition, whether it’s feasible or not, is to recover the use of my legs and walk again. No-one seems to be able to work out what’s happening to my legs, or if they have, they haven’t told me. But every six months, as regularly as clockwork, they change the medication in the hope that they stumble on something that works, and who knows? One day they might!

The nurse was early again today. Of course, he doesn’t have any blood tests or injections to do. His poor oppo has been loaded with all of that and so she runs about half an hour behind.

The first thing that he did was to grab hold of my bread with his fingers, so he departed quite quickly with a flea in his ear. I couldn’t believe that he did that and he won’t do that again and walk out of here unaided.

After he left, I made breakfast and carried on reading ISAAC WELD’S BOOK

He’s still shacked up with the First-Nation people, observing their habits. He notes that "It is a very singular and remarkable circumstance, that notwithstanding the striking similarity which we find in the persons, manners, customs, dispositions, and religion of the different tribes of Indians from one end of the continent of North America to the other, a similarity so great as hardly to leave a doubt on the mind but that they must all have had the same origin, the languages of the different tribes should yet be so materially different. No two tribes speak exactly the same language; and the languages of many of those who live at no great distance asunder, vary, so much, that they cannot make themselves at all understood to each other."

That’s something that I could readily understand. When I was in the Arctic I tried to learn some Inuktitut but it wasn’t really helpful because the Inuit in one bay would speak one language, you’d go 100 miles into the next community and they would speak a different form, and then a third further on, and then a fourth and so on. I was always one bay behind.

It was quite astonishing really that even in the 21st Century there has been so little mixing of the different Inuit communities up there in the Arctic. But I suppose that with the rapid warming of the climate, so evident up there in the North, it’s even less easy to move around than it was, as the ice doesn’t freeze over so much.

Once my leisurely breakfast was over, I came in here and began work. And by the time that I’d finished for the evening, I’d bashed out all of the text for the next radio programme, ready to dictate on Saturday night for editing and finishing on Sunday. That was some work, I’ll tell you.

There were several interruptions too. A friend of mine from school who now lives in the Orkneys wanted to test whether or not he’d configured an on-line video program correctly so we’d agreed that he could use me as his test bed.

Sure enough, he’d done what he needed to do and we had a really nice video chat, seeing each other for the first time for about 45 years. It’s really nice to see and talk to old friends, and new technology makes it oh! so easy.

Lunch was next – a slice of flapjack and some fruit, with water to wash down the midday medication.

My faithful cleaner turned up too, of course, to do her stuff. And that included helping me to have a shower. That was lovely of course and I can’t wait to be downstairs in my own place with a proper walk-in shower where I can shower whenever I like

After she left I went one better than Dave Crosby, presumably because it’s getting kind-of long. I could have said it was in my way. But I’m not giving in an inch to fear, because I promised myself this year I feel like I owe it to someone

And then Rosemary rang for a chat. And we’re definitely losing our touch. That chat was just 46 minutes long. More like a nod and wave across the street rather than a chat.

As far as the Christmas cake goes, I tried to explain to my cleaner what sugar I needed to make the icing for my cake, and Rosemary helped me out too. So hopefully, next week I’ll end up with what I need. It’s really awkward when I’m not able to go out and about.

Tea tonight was a leftover curry and naan bread. And for once, the naan was deliciously cooked to perfection. I think that after all these years I’ve finally cracked the method of cooking them. You fry them, of course, but on a low heat, neither too low or too high. And don’t over-fry them

The ginger cake and soya dessert were lovely too.

So now I’ll loiter around for a short while before going to bed. I might even read some more of Isaac Weld.

He talks about religion and the conversion of various tribes to Christianity but notes that "some of the tribes have much less devotion than others; the Shawnese, a warlike daring nation, have but very little fear of evil spirits, and consequently have scarcely any religion amongst them. None of this nation, that I could learn, have ever been converted to Christianity"

Missionaries have been sent among the Shawnee and, commenting on another vice of the First-Nation and Native American people, "great pains have been taken, both by the French and English missionaries, to represent to them the infamy of torturing their prisoners;"

However, even the missionaries were not spared this. Amongst the Shawnee the first missionaries who went there ended up in the cooking pot hung over the fire.
The Shawnee performed a ceremony of dancing around the fire and the pot to celebrate the arrival of their next meal, but every few minutes one of the Shawnee would break off to slap the missionary across the face.
After a while the chief called him over and shouted "Stop that! We don’t humiliate our captives in that way!"
"But chief!" exclaimed the brave
"What’s the matter?"
"It’s that missionary!" said the brave. "Every time your back is turned he starts to eat the potatoes!"

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Wednesday 4th December 2024 – I HAD ANOTHER …

… chat with Rosemary this evening. Just a short one this time – only one hour and forty-eight minutes. We are definitely losing our touch these days.

But as a result, I am running horribly late tonight and I’m glad that it’s the Dialysis Centre tomorrow morning – for the simple fact that I can have a good sleep there if I’m tired.

It was also late when I went to bed last night, but there again that’s only to be expected these days. It wasn’t all that late when I finished everything, but I hung around for a while afterwards doing not very much at all.

When I was in bed it didn’t take long for me to go to sleep and once more, there I stayed until the alarm went off at 07:00. Mind you, I was awake a few minutes beforehand but not even if TOTGA, Zero or Castor (whatever happened to them?) were beckoning from the doorway would I be enticed from the warmth and comfort of my own wonderful bed

It was, as usual, a struggle to rise up when it was time to do so but I managed to beat the second alarm by a short head and once the bedroom stopped spinning round I could make my way into the bathroom.

After having had a good wash I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I dreamed that I’d taken some sandwiches to bed with me. I’d been missing a meal here and there and my body was going totally out of synch. One night I was going to bed at about 23:00 and realised that I’d had no food so I made myself some sandwiches but I fell asleep. When I awoke I had an insatiable thirst so I began to look around for the sandwiches (…fell asleep here …) so when I awoke I was looking around for these sandwiches under the bed. Of course I realised then that I was actually in a dream and there were no sandwiches at all

Now that’s a novelty, isn’t it? Dreaming about food and especially bringing it to bed with me. But could you imagine leaving the sandwiches under the bed? It’s a good job that I fell asleep mid-search. But the sandwiches wouldn’t help me with my insatiable thirst.

Isabelle the Nurse was in a chatty mood this morning and had a lot to say for herself. We talked about economics and other exciting subjects this morning and I seem to be putting the World to rights with a lot of people these days.

After she left I made breakfast and carried on with ISAAC WELD’S BOOK.

Today he’s arrived at Kingston and has been escorted across the lake to the town of Niagara in a fleet of canoes with several traders. He’s still obsessed with the idea of Canada as the best country in the Empire and with the preoccupation of Americans with money, but he tells us that "the town of Niagara hitherto has been and is still the capital of the province of Upper Canada ; orders, however, had been issued, before our arrival there, for the removal of the seat of government from thence to Toronto which was deemed a more eligible spot for the meeting of the legislative bodies, as being farther removed from the frontiers of the United States. This projected change is by no means relished by the people at large, as Niagara is a much more convenient place of resort to most of them than Toronto; and as the governor who proposed the measure has been removed, it is imagined that it will not be put in execution."

Well, the less said about that prophecy of his, the better.

He did much better with something else that he mentioned in his book. "It is to be lamented that the Indian names, so grand and sonorous, should ever have been changed for others. Newark, Kingston, York, are poor substitutes for the original names of these respective places, Niagara, Cadaragui, Toronto." although he had to wait two hundred years for the beginning of the restoration of First-Nation place-names.

And while I’m in complete agreement with the process of the restoration of the first-Nation names, it is nevertheless confusing when I’m trying to follow the trail of the European explorers of the Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries, where the names that they gave in their memoirs to places that they visited have now been erased from the map

Today, I’ve been carrying on my hunt for music. I didn’t realise yesterday how much I didn’t have and seem to have fallen way short in my estimate. So much of the day has been spent tracking it down and then trying to identify it, because as I mentioned yesterday, the program that I use is mixing up the names of the tracks

My cleaner came in this afternoon to do her stuff and she changed all the bedding. That’s good because with having had a shower, there’s now a nice, clean me to go into a nice, clean bed.

The shower was wonderful and now it’s less that six months to go until I’ll be able to install a shower in the bathroom downstairs. Time is going quicker than I would have thought. But when I do have the shower installed, I’ll be having one every day – at least, at the beginning.

There will be a much-improved kitchen too if only I can arrange to have the kitchen units removed from the van and put in the apartment. I hope that the oven in there still works.

There was the usual interruption for the hot chocolate, and then another one with Rosemary, who rang just as I was preparing to stop work.

As a result, I has about an hour late going for tea tonight. It was, as usual, a leftover curry with rice, veg and naan bread. Spoiling myself yet again.

And the ginger cake was excellent. It tasted just as it should, and could even have been somewhat spicier

So now, much later than I intended, I’m off to bed. It’s the dialysis tomorrow morning and the X-ray in the afternoon. I wonder what they are going to find. There’s definitely something that’s not correct.

But while we’re on the subject of things being spoilt … "well, one of us is" – ed … the Headmaster of a local Primary School rang up Little Johnny’s mother and said "your son is spoilt"
"No he isn’t" said Little Johnny’s mother
"Yes he is" retorted the Headmaster
"No he isn’t" insisted Little Johnny’s mother
"Well, you come here" said the Headmaster "and see what the groundsman’s industrial lawnmower has done to him."

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Friday 22nd November 2024 – AND THERE I WAS …

… dashing to make tea, wolfing it all down at a speed that’s more likely to give me indigestion than anything else, and then abandoning the washing up and dashing in here to watch the football tonight – Y Drenewydd v Connah’s Quay, only to find that the 86mm of rain that has fallen in mid-Wales in the last 24 hours has washed out the game

So after trying in vain to find another live match that was still being played, I went back to do the washing up

It’s a pity that Bonnyrigg Rose weren’t playing. After several seasons of playing their home matches at New Dundas Swamp, 86mm of rain falling on their pitch would have made quite an improvement and they would, quite literally, be at home on a pitch like that.

So it might be an early night for me once finish these notes, if I’m lucky. Not like last night where even though I finished my notes early I loitered around until it was actually quite late when I hit the sack.

And there I stayed until all of 06:00 or thereabouts when the loudest crack of thunder that I have ever heard in my life awoke me.

The storm raged for several minutes with some of the brightest flashes that lit up my bedroom despite the thick curtains. And the storm was so close overhead judging my the almost instantaneous thunder. Then it slowly moved away and we could go back to sleep

But not for long because the alarm went off at 07:00 and I had to leave my stinking pit in order to head to the bathroom for a wash and brush up

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I’d just taken delivery of a beige MkIV Cortina estate that had come from a scrapyard. The windscreen was missing and a few other bits and pieces. It was essentially acquired by me for its parts, to break it, so I’d had it in my drive. Later that night it turned out that it was not my drive at all but a public park somewhere. After I finished work I went over and began to have a look around it. First thing that I wanted to do was to find out its registration number but I thought that that would be difficult with its windscreen broken and tax disc gone. I eventually found a torn-up tax disc that gave the car as “M” reg, which is obviously incorrect. I had a play around with it and found that the radio still worked. After I’d switched off the radio I had my head all around it somewhere, and I heard a car pull up. I looked, and it was someone else. After a while he came into view, the driver, and walked towards where my couple of cars were. I didn’t say anything, I just watched him and stared – it was pitch-black. No-one could see anything, except that he had the light behind him so that I could see it. And staring at him would make him and his senses uncomfortable. Sure enough, after a minute or two he turned round and walked away. He obviously climbed back into his car because it drove off. I was there with this car, and I heard a door slam. I looked around, and sitting on a bench not too far away from me was a schoolboy from Sandbach School. He was feeling very happy, very pleased with himself. Then a few others came to join in. A boy and a girl began to disport themselves on the table. This other boy was teasing this boy and girl and so were one or two of the others. I asked them how much longer they had at school. They said “three weeks” with a big wide grin so I asked them if they were really looking forward to the end of it.

It was mainly MkIII Cortinas that I’d collect. When I had my taxi business people would offer me MoT failures if I would take them away, so I’d take them up to my yard and dismantle them. Sometimes I’d find that with a little welding I could make them better than a car that I was actually using and a couple had a new lease of life, mostly officially, but unofficially, well …

Have you ever done that, by the way? Stared at someone really hard from a distance away? And suddenly then turn round and look in your direction? We used to do that a lot back in the mid-70s when I had that flat on Nantwich Road. We were convinced that people still retained an element of the sixth sense that kept their forebears alive in the time of the sabre-toothed tiger and the other wild beasts of the distant past. It’s a sense that people should work at and develop. No worries with Nerina though. Her sixth sense was very well-developed and worked well on several occasions. I wonder if she ever made good use of it.

But schoolkids fooling around? I used to get on well with schoolkids at one time but these days I don’t see anyone at all, never mind schoolkids, and that’s a shame. I think that kids have a very raw deal from adults and I have a lot of sympathy for them.

Later on I was out with the Inuit again last night. There was a big tribe of them, probably fifty or something of people of all ages. When some white guy came by to study them for a thesis he tried to teach them to all go into a huddle. When he did, there was someone missing, a young girl of about fifteen. We couldn’t find her at all so we had to start again, the count, to verify it. It still ended up as one person short. Then a couple of the Inuit began to discuss the merits of eating human flesh. The meal that they described was quite revolting but I could see that several people were interested in the menu so I promised that if we were going to perform this again I would leave out any reference to humans, their age etc in the hope that they too don’t become dragged off down this road of cannibalism.

Revolting? Like some of Samuel Hearne’s meals when he was out on his travels?

One of my eternal gripes, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, is the number of students who have gone to live amongst the Inuit, the Métisse and other groups, to study their habits and lifestyle as one would study goldfish in a bowl, write their thesis identifying various shortcomings in the dealings of the Canadian Government with those people, proudly receive their PhDs and then go to work in a bank and totally forget the factors raised in their thesis. It strikes me that they believe in all earnestness that the shortcomings are designed specifically for them to study, not to resolve. At what point are the First-Nation people and the Métisse going to be fed up of these interlopers?

Back in the past I remember reading something about the members of Military Intelligence going to the PoW cages of the elite at the end of World War II in order to interview some of the German experts. The writer said something along the lines of that it felt as if he was in a superior fish restaurant, going up to the lobsters in the tank, pointing to a lobster and saying “I’ll have that one, please”. And that’s the impression that I have of these PhD students

And then we were all in the army doing our military service and our period of engagement was drawing to a close. We’d had a whole series of boring lectures. We’d probably had enough so we were larking around making poor use of the time that we had when my friend from Germany appeared. He joined in the general fun and frivolities as we found humour in everything. We were talking about the Wild West and a border dispute between two States where here was a State claiming tolls for crossing a border into another State although the border wasn’t actually there. Some boy had been organising a campaign to refuse to pay it. It had gone one for quite a while. We were joking about the border and the situation about Dodge City came up. We were describing the place with hilarity, the place where every time that a tourist pus his sooty foot in the place, some cowboy is shot by some kind of Indian who pops up on a roof somewhere and they all give a good performance of dying etc, just to take some money off the tourist. My friend turned round to everyone and said “right, we’re going to have a lecture on the Intruder bomber. That’s your very last lecture of your period of service of engagement” so we all finished laughing and joking and gathered round.

No danger of ever catching me anywhere near the Military. Had there been a War during the period when I was eligible to serve, I would have joined the Merchant Marine. "Hello, sailor!" indeed!

snow haute ville eglise notre dame de cap lihou place d'armes granville Manche Normandy France Eric Hall photo 22nd November 2024By now, dawn was slowly starting to break so I went to have a look out of the window to see what the weather had been doing. And as I expected, we’ve had a sudden snowfall over the past couple of hours.

The entry to the Square here looks really nice at the best of times, with the city walls in the background and the Eglise de Notre Dame de Cap Lihou in the distance. But in this snowy weather it looks even better. The snow gives it quite a nice touch.

It’s no surprise that I want to stay here rather than go anywhere else because this really is a nice building and it’s in a lovely situation, stuck between the city walls and the clifftop with the sea just 25 metres away

snow haute ville municipal buildings foyer des jeunes travailleurs place d'armes granville Manche Normandy France Eric Hall photo 22nd November 2024On the left we have the Foyer des Jeunes Travailleurs – the French equivalent of the YMCA where youths can find a tiny box-room to call home – and straight ahead we have the annexe to the Municipal offices. That’s where marriages take place.

There has been quite a bit of snow there too that has fallen just now. I know that it’s nothing compared with what we had in the Auvergne when half a metre would fall in a couple of hours or to what people on Germany and Austria experience every year, but with snow being so rare here, this is enough to bring North-Western France to a standstill

The nurse came along, later than usual, to tell me about the chaos and the slipping and sliding of everyone on the roads this morning. She couldn’t hang around because she had other people to see so she was soon gone

After she left I made a breakfast and began my next book. It’s a story written by someone about his travels in North America in 1795.

Why it’s interesting to me is that he goes at some point in his journey to “Upper Canada” and “Lower Canada” and I reckon that he will almost inevitably travel on the “Chemin du Roy” – the first road to be built in Nouvelle France that linked Montréal and Québec.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I WROTE AN ARTICLE a few years ago about the Chemin du Roy and I’m ready to update it with stuff that I’ve accumulated since those days. Wouldn’t it be nice to include some eye-witness reports of what the road was like from a traveller’s point of view?

So hopefully our hero will at some point find himself in a diligence, or “stage-coach”, flying along the road of Lanouillier and Bécancourt and give me some good information

Back in here I’ve spent most of the day writing notes for the next radio programme and now that’s complete and ready to be dictated. This one wasn’t anything interesting which is a shame because I’ve been enjoying doing these last few “special interest” programmes and can’t wait to do some more.

There were the usual interruptions. Lunch was one of them of course – a cheese and lettuce butty followed by some fruit.

And then my cleaner arrived to do her stuff. We changed the table around and put all the medication in one of the drawers now that they are accessible, instead of having medication scattered about on top of the table looking untidy.

We also had a break for hot chocolate. I really like that, so it’s become something of an enjoyable habit. I could do with a few more like that to cheer me up because, let’s face it, I could do with cheering up.

Tea was sausage, chips and baked beans with cheese. And to liven them up I put some hot chili powder in there. That should get them going, I reckon.

After the chocolate cake and strawberry soya dessert (there was another pot in the fridge) I dashed in here, only to have my hopes dashed.

So what I’ll do is go to bed and hope that I have pleasant dreams and that the thunder doesn’t awaken me.

This afternoon I had a brief chat with Rosemary and I mentioned the storm.

"Did it shake you out of bed?" she asked.

"No" I replied. "I hung on to the rails in the headboard."

And that reminded me of the little girl who came running downstairs and said to her mother "mummy! Mummy! The au-pair is dying!"
"What do you mean, dear?" asked her mother
"Well, mummy" said the girl "she’s lying on the bed gripping the rails in the headboard and going ‘oh God! Oh God! I’m coming!’"
"Is she really?" asked her mother, rather alarmed
"Yes mummy" replied the girl "and she would be too, except that daddy is on top of her holding her down!"

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Friday 8th November 2024 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

… day I’ve had today. I’ve done nothing, accomplished nothing, have loads of things that I need to do and I’m going to be here until eternity just doing the most urgent things that I have to do..

And it all started off so well too. Even though I wasn’t in bed at 23:00, it was something quite like it – not a horribly late night like some have been.

Furthermore, although I wasn’t asleep quite quickly, once I’d dropped off, there I stayed for quite some considerable while. There was the odd awakening here and there but nothing that particularly kept me awake.

However, once I was awake at about 06:00, then awake I stayed and nothing at all would induce me to go back to sleep. So when the alarm went off at 07:00 I was already up and about.

In a departure from usual tradition, I went and took my medicine straight after washing. Usually, the medication is taken at breakfast but I have a feeling that I’ll be struggling for time a little later.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We were discussing radio programmes again. There was something to do with a famous star who owned a Triumph Herald. An interviewer had been talking to me about interviewing him. Then there was a change and we found ourselves on the Orient Express heading deep into what was formerly the USSR. I was on there in an ordinary carriage with someone else. The train was packed. We were coming into a village where we were going to change locomotive, which meant that we would be not moving for a good few minutes. I knew this village, and knew that there was a really first-rate ethnic Indian restaurant right by the station. I told the guy with me about it. We agreed that we’d take a risk and go there while the train was stopped. As the train was pulling into the station we left our seats and ran the whole length of the train. When we came to the sleeping cars we were told that there was no room in there. The train was crowded, which we knew but we took no notice and pressed on right to the front. When the train stopped we nipped out of the station and found this little café but it was now a big restaurant. There were loads of people there and it was really busy. It was quite upmarket, and it wasn’t what I was expecting at all and neither was my friend, but here we were. The first thing that I did was to grab a plate of something or other to take with me to the table because I could see how busy it was. There was a decent possibility here that we would never be served and have our meal by the time that the train is ready to leave. At least I wanted to eat something while I was here. I was really disappointed by this famous little Indian café place being no longer here and all the delicious hot food had gone – “hot” in both senses of the word of course.

This dream reminds me of that little Indian café that I found out in the Côte Vertu in Montréal. It really was nice and I went back there time after time. Going back in 2022 for the first time since 2019 I found that it had been enlarged and wasn’t quite the same, and neither did it have the same level of intimacy, as the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine might have said. The food was still excellent though.

There was something really bitty next. First of all I was round at a friend’s girlfriend’s house, somewhere where a group of us went quite often. I actually bought a jar of coffee to give to the mother to thank her for all the time that she’d made coffee for us. But somewhere along the line I had a new house, a brand-new solid front door and I was busy measuring it up to fit security bolts in it. But it was winter and I didn’t really feel like opening the door and working just there then with how cold it was outside.

There was actually a girl who lived near me in my adolescence who was the girlfriend of a friend, and it was pretty much open house. Any one could come round and visit, and several people made new acquaintances there. In fact, I made a little friend there who was my companion for a couple of months. However everything fell apart when my friend discovered that his girlfriend had become much too friendly with another one of the visitors.

Isabelle the nurse was late coming around this morning – swamped with blood tests as the laboratory is closed on Monday and no-one wants them done on Tuesday, for reasons that I have either mentioned or implied.

She didn’t hang around and was soon gone, leaving me to make breakfast in peace.

That thesis on the Border Marches has gone the Way of the West now. I think that we reached rock-bottom when our author described “Rhuddlan Castle, in Cheshire, right on the border with Wales”. Although it was in part of the lands that was administered by the Earl of Chester and so can be called “in Cheshire” at a pinch, it’s well over be border, almost half-way to Anglesey and the only way of supplying it was up the River Clwyd from the sea because the overland route was in the hands of the Welsh.

Having finished that I made a start on the history of Samuel Hearne’s famous trek to Coppermine on the northern coast of Canada where had he done the trek in 2019 Castor and I would have been there to him.

However I didn’t read much because the taxi came early for me. I hadn’t even finished my breakfast which was a shame.

At the hospital, with all of the renovations going on, we had the devil’s own job to find the radiography area, and then I was abandoned.

It didn’t take too long for them to come to see me and I was in and out of the machine in five minutes. I didn’t even have to undress or take off my shoes, which was strange if they wanted to look at my foot.

They pushed me outside where I had to wait for the taxi. And wait. And wait. One hour and twenty minutes in total, and there were two other passengers in the car so I went on a sightseeing tour all round Southern Normandy. 12:35 when I made it finally back home.

Mind you, once more I excelled myself. My faithful cleaner stood and watched in awe as I climbed all 25 steps up to here yet again.

After she left I warmed up the remains of my breakfast and finally managed to eat it.

The next task was to complete my order for LeClerc and send it off. It’s a cheap order this week as I have much of the stuff in stock, but olive oil is on special offer again so that helped bulk it up

My cleaner came round to do her stuff and we sorted out the medication, disposing of a load of stuff that’s no longer in use. It’s gone into a bag in the corner, not thrown away, because what’s the betting that sooner or later another prescription will bring it out?

Then I came in here to deal with the radio programme. I’ve paired off the music and segued it, and even made a good start on the notes but Rosemary rang me for a chat. But I had to abort that because the delivery came from LeClerc and I had to put away the frozen stuff

Having done that, I called Rosemary back and we had another one of our marathon sessions that went on for quite a while, and I forgot to check the time.

It wasn’t far short of tea time though, and only just enough time to put away the chilled stuff. The rest will have to wait until tomorrow, although with a session at the Dialysis Clinic, a football match to watch and some radio notes to finish, I’m not sure exactly when tomorrow it will be.

Tea was a handful of those mini-nuggets with chips and a vegan salad, followed by spicy ginger cake and soya dessert. Really nice too.

That was followed by starting to make more bread. You can see that my day is a long way from finishing. Blimey! What a day! And it’s not going to improve any either. And I’ve not had even one sip of coffee today either.

But a strange thing happened at the hospital just now. A nun came rushing out of the doctor’s room in tears.
A few minutes later the doctor came out so I asked him "what’s the matter with her?"
"I’ve just told her that she’s pregnant" said the doctor
"Blimey!" I exclaimed. "Is she?"
"Ohh no" replied the doctor "but I think that I’ve cured her hiccoughs"

0

Sunday 13th October 2024 – ♫ I WOKE UP …♫

♫… this morning♫

At 06:05 and thought “here we go again. Just when I was hoping to have a really good sleep for once …”

But I did in fact go back to sleep again. And I’m glad that I did because I had a visitor – a most welcome visitor too who came to see me in my sleep.

But more of that anon.

After I finished my notes last night I dictated the notes for the two programmes that I’d prepared during last week and, having reviewed them yesterday, it was much easier, and much quicker to dictate them. And hopefully, much quicker to edit them too.

Everything was finished by about 23:15 which meant that, although it was after my target time of 23:00, there’s a lie-in tomorrow until 08:00. And how I need it too.

Nice clean shorts in which to go to bed too. Life’s becoming a luxury here these days.

As I said just now, I awoke at 06:05 and after a few minutes I was convinced that I could raise myself from the dead but I’m glad that I didn’t. Instead, I had sweet dreams until I awoke again at just a couple of minutes before 08:00.

When the alarm went off I sprung out of bed and headed to the bathroom for a quick wash before the nurse arrived.

The spare dressing gown fell off its hanger on the back of the door. There it was on the floor and I didn’t have time to pick it up. I suddenly began to think “when will I have thirty seconds to pick it up and hang it back?”

Yes, there is so much to do that life is becoming a race – a race against time. LIFE IS JUST A BET ON A RACE BETWEEN THE LIGHTS and that’s all that I can say.

The nurse came late today. She made a few encouraging noises and left off a few of the plasters to see how my leg improves. She’s certainly more optimistic than I am.

After she left I made breakfast and READ MY BOOK. Today we’ve made it to Stonehenge, as it sits in its natural state.

But before we leave the villa at Bignor, it’s worth mentioning that Thomas Wright had heard that "the farmer to whom the land belongs is desirous of selling that portion of it which contains the remains of the Roman villa ," and so "If the government will not interfere in a case like this-which it would do in any other country—it is to be hoped that there is public spirit enough to secure the preservation of these interesting remains on the site where they stand , in such a manner that they may be seen to the most advantage by every one that will visit them"

And so we see the seeds being sown of the idea of the National Trust, or English Heritage. But it took until 1882 and the Ancient Monuments Protection Act before the Government took any action, and even then the Roman Villa at Bignor was not on the list.

Back in here I carried on with the dictaphone notes. I’d made a start earlier before the nurse arrived but hadn’t finished. I was doing a character analysis of Lewis Carroll at one point last night. We met him once and had to ask him whatever questions we liked. Then we had to go away and write down our assessment of his qualities. For some reason or other I was busy writing stuff about his liking of folk music

Lewis Carroll – can you imagine how hard it would be to do that? Everyone is a product of his time and should be judged in respect of the prevailing conditions at that moment. How difficult is it for us to be able to put ourselves into the mindset of another period and judge someone in accordance with those characteristics? I personally am fed up of people making judgements on historical characters, or even contemporary people living in another culture, based on our own standards of today.

There was also something about being on the trail of the Romans in Derbyshire, finding soapstone blocks that had been really well-shaped and practically professional and listening to a talk on them. At the same time people were interested in reading about French place-names and how they’ve derived from the one that was given by the Romans when they came to settle in the area.

And that reminds me – It’s never “Roman” in France. The French don’t accept that the Romans brought civilisation and urbanism to France. It’s considered that France was already civilised and urbanised before the arrival of Romans and so the remains should be called “Gallo-Roman”. I’ve seen a historical meeting in France almost break out in a brawl when someone used the word “Roman” instead of “Gallo-Roman” to describe some remains.

Having awoken once, then back to sleep and who should come to see me but Zero! There had been a festival taking place, a music festival. It had been pouring down with rain and all the crowd was dancing under a huge piece of plastic. When it was time to go everyone ran with the plastic to put it away but I was caught in the middle and overwhelmed by all of it. In the end I managed to make my way to where my friends were waiting for a ride back to the campsite. We were sitting there chatting away. One of them was Zero’s father. I ended up round at his house. His brother-in-law was living with him – a right waster, fond of alcohol and buying all these derelict cars and somehow selling them on at a profit. It was really annoying Zero’s father. We were having a really good chat when his son came up and asked “could you do me a favour on Sunday?”. I asked “what is it?” and he replied “could you run me to Gatwick?”. I replied, laughing (and when I listened to the dictaphone I found that I had been laughing too), “I could run you to Gatwick but i certainly wouldn’t be for a favour”. He answered “OK, but I’ll buy you a pint”. I thought “it’s going to take a lot of pints for me to drive him to Gatwick”. We actually agreed on an arrangement. When I went to pick him up he had Zero with him. We arrived in London and I dropped him off. She asked if I could run her somewhere else. I replied “yes” and we ended up at some traffic lights in the south of London. She alighted and someone, I don’t know who, said “that’s the last you’ll see of her”. I set off to go north from there. There was some trouble with the van’s clutch. If I tried to pull away in second instead of first the clutch would go dead and the van wouldn’t move. If I then put it in first it wouldn’t move back and I had to perform some really complicated arrangement to make the clutch grip. That was causing all kinds of problems in these traffic queues with cars cutting in. I thought to myself “I’ll be glad to join the motorway and go back to when I don’t need to use the gearbox. But I was perplexed about the appearance of Zero. I thought “what is it that she’s doing down here in London? Why didn’t she want a ride back etc?

And then I stepped back into that dream later. Zero’s father went out and then her brother made arrangements to go out with his friend. That left the two of us alone together. We had a cup of coffee and a chat and she took her brother a cup of tea. Then we went into the living room and began to tip out the drawers of one of the units where she kept her things. What she wanted was some lined wallpaper that she would line her drawers and put her tools in, all in one long line in this drawer. But we hunted high and low in that house for some lined wallpaper – wallpaper with lines on it. I knew that there was some somewhere but we couldn’t find it. This was beginning to become complicated and we had all her things tipped out all over the living room floor.

How nice is that? Not only did Zero come to see me, I stepped back into a dream and she returned. I couldn’t wish for anything better and I wish that she’d come back to see me more often. As Counting Crows sang, MAN, I SURE DO LOVE THEM RED-HAIRED GIRLS.

Having done that, I attacked the two radio programmes that I dictated last night and by the time I stopped for tea, they were complete, 11th track added for each programme, notes for that extra track written, dictated, edited in and now I have two more programmes fully prepared that take me up to 20th June next year

There were plenty of interruptions during the course of the day.

Firstly, I had soup to make. Due to a confusion between my cleaner and myself I ended up with two lots of mushrooms. That can only mean one thing – mushroom soup. And seeing as I had some soya yoghurt, then that could only mean cream of mushroom soup.

Rosemary rang me too for a chat. Just a short one today – 1hr 11 mins. So my Welsh homework is now pushed back to tomorrow too but it can’t be helped. Talking to friends is much more important.

Tonight’s pizza was excellent again. I had two tomatoes that were looking the worse for wear so that called for a home-made tomato sauce as I made the other week. This time I made a couple of changes to what I did last time and the sauce was actually beautiful. It certainly made a good pizza

So now I’m off to bed, in the hope that Zero will come to see me again.

But all his talk about vans, France and so on reminds me of the time I went in the van to p-p-p-pick up a Penguin, a Percy Penguin in fact, from work one evening
A new French restaurant had opened in Holmes Chapel and I wanted to try it out so I asked Percy Penguin "do you fancy some Coq au Vin?"
"Yes please" she said, and climbed over the seat into the back

0

Friday 4th October 2024 – IT’S GOING TO …

… be another late night tonight.

In fact it’s going to be a rather long day because not only is it going to be a late night, it was an early morning too. When the alarm went off at 07:00 I was already just about to begin to make the bread after having had a good wash.

Then again, it was an early night last night. Somehow I managed to have everything finished by 22:30 and it wasn’t many minutes later that I actually climbed into bed.

Once in there, it didn’t take me long to go off into the Land of Nod. All in all, it’s about time that I had a night like that

It was about 06:00 when I awoke again and couldn’t go back to sleep no matter how I tried so in the end I gave it up as a bad job, climbed out of bed and went off for a good scrub down.

Having finished that I went into the kitchen, scrubbed down the worktop and began to make the bread. I decided against trying to make some bread rolls, for the rather prosaic reason is that there’s no room in the freezer to stock them and it’s pretty pointless making just one.

But once again, the dough didn’t rise as much as I would like. That’s bizarre because the pizza dough goes up like a lift so there’s nothing wrong with my technique. All that I can think of is that it’s the flour. This stuff is the special bread flour, while the pizza dough is made of the cheapest plain flour, so that’s quite strange.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what was going on during the night. It wasn’t as exciting as last night unfortunately. I was sure that I had just been spotted by the police as I was driving using my ‘phone at the same time so that’s one point on my licence and a fine that I could well do without. Even worse, I hadn’t been paying my mobile ‘phone bills for a while so the ‘phone company is now going to start to chase after me. And then the car didn’t have any tax or MoT so I had a feeling that the book was now going to be thrown at me and they would be intent upon making me suffer for this. I sat down and thought about how I could clear all of the bills and all of the backlog but it would be the end of April before I had any money available and that’s a long time to wait and I didn’t think that anyone in these kinds of organisations would wait that long. As I was walking through Belgium … "Brussels actually" – ed … around the Inner Ring near the old theatre that had been boarded up I was thinking about all of this and wondering whether the fines from the traffic police or the fines about the mobile ‘phone would come first and how they would all affect my driving licence. I reckoned that I would be in for a very bad six months before things would ever improve

Fortunately most of my transgressions occurred before the days of mobile ‘phones, ANPR and computerised police forces. I would have been totally out-of-place and totally unprepared for the modern World. When I think back to how we used to behave back in the late 60s and early 70s, I’m reminded of Daniel Gooch and his "whatever would be said of that mode of proceeding today?"

But it’s a shame that I didn’t meet that girl from last night again. That reminds me of Lee Jackson singing YOU WOULD GIVE A SMALL FORTUNE TO GET BACK IN YOUR DREAMS

The nurse was in a good humour again this morning and was in chat mode again, although he didn’t say anything important . Mind you, he gave me some instructions about more supplies that we need. We seem to be running low yet again

After he left I gave the bread its second kneading and then went to make breakfast and carry on reading the REPORT OF THE EXCAVATION of the Anglo-Saxon cemetery at Holborough.

We’ve finished our examination of early Anglo-Saxon grave goods with specific reference to pot-hangers, and moved on to pathology lessons, having a master class on skulls with specific reference to dentistry. There’s no doubt that if I could absorb all of this book I’d be an expert on Anglo Saxon physical history. It’s one of the most fascinating books that I’ve ever read.

After putting the bread in the oven I came back in here and started work.

Today I’ve been a very busy boy. I’ve cracked on and completed all of the notes for the next radio programme. That burst of energy took me completely by surprise.

And there was a couple of pauses too. Firstly, I had to take the bread out of the oven when it was finished. It’s not perfect but it does look really good, that’s for sure.

Rosemary rang me up for a chat. Just a small one today – one hour and thirty-four minutes

Then there was a leisurely lunch – cheese, tomato and cucumber sandwiches on fresh, soft, delicious bread followed by a pile of fruit. The bread really was nice.

The cleaner came down too and had a good blitz through the apartment. Now it looks as if someone actually lives here, which is always nice

My afternoon hot chocolate was rather late today, and back in here I rather regrettably crashed out while I was doing something else. Only for about 20 minutes though, so I can’t complain too much. A few weeks ago it would have been for a couple of hours.

Tea was a rather rushed chips, salad and vegan nuggets. Rushed because we had football – Penybont v Barry Town

After their famous victory against TNS, Penybont somehow managed to lose against Llansawel, the bottom club in their following game, and when they went 1-0 down early in this game I thought “here we go again”

But whatever Rhys Griffiths put in their half-time cuppa, I wouldn’t mind a swig of it because they ran out 4-1 winners in the end. And we were treated to some of the finest goals that you would ever see

The standard of football was excellent – over the last couple of seasons we are really seeing an improvement in quality – and Penybont were the better team. But 4-1 is something of an exaggeration because Barry were much better than that.

And once more, this was another game where both I and the commentators thought that the referee must be refereeing a completely different game to the one that we were watching.

So right now I’m going to go to bed. I want a good sleep as tomorrow I have two lots of radio notes to dictate so it’ll be a late night.

But the match tonight made me feel rather sorry for Barry Town who deserved much better than to lose by three goals. It reminded me of Harry Carpenter trying his best to console Ken Norton after he had been badly beaten in a boxing match by Mohammad Ali
"Cheer up, Ken" he said. "Without you, it wouldn’t have been much of a fight".

0

Saturday 7th September 2024 – THE PLAN WAS …

… to sit back and do nothing whatever today.

And so of course, as you might expect, I have been quite busy and done quite a lot of stuff. But nothing really towards the huge backlog of stuff that’s been building up. That seems to be growing even bigger as I’m simply swept aside in a torrent of paperwork and the like.

What didn’t help matters very much was that I had another really late night last night. After falling asleep so completely during the afternoon I was quite wide awake during the evening and come bedtime I wasn’t tired enough to go to sleep.

Too tired though to haul myself off my comfortable chair and cross the couple of inches that separates chair from bed. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … it’s more exhaustion that I’m feeling than actual tiredness.

Nevertheless I did end up sorting myself out and at round about 00:30, long after the time at which I would have liked to have gone to bed, I finally hit the hay.

As seems to be the case these days I didn’t need much rocking. I was soon asleep and there I stayed until all of 04:30. After that, it was a miserable night of tossing and turning and trying to go back to sleep.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 it was close to Christmas. Some of our friends were visiting. We hadn’t prepared any Christmas cards and had no idea about what we were going to do about this. It was noticeable that our friends sent their children to the door first so they were obviously paving the way to see what kind of reception they’d receive. They’d receive a warm reception of course but they wouldn’t receive a Christmas card. That might upset them. When they finally turned up at the door she (…my friend’s wife…) said something like “is it any use us doing this?”. It was something like this that she said.

Right at that moment the alarm went off. When the room finished spinning around I hauled myself out of bed and crawled off to the bathroom.

In the bathroom I had a really good wash, a shave and of course I washed my shorts ready for tonight. I must at least make an effort to be clean and tidy, even if I don’t feel like it.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. For some reason there was a pile of clothing in one of my dreams too, a pile of clothing for a small girl probably about seven or eight years old. I have no idea why but there were some high-heeled shoes there of the type that had a small high heel that didn’t have any superstructure above the sole at the back to hold the shoe onto the heel at all. It was just held on the foot at the toe by a strap there. I don’t know where all this came from.

And neither do I either. I know that I’m likely to have some strange dreams every now and again but sometimes even I’m amazed at what I dream.

The next one is even more bizarre. For some reason I was identifying as a woman last night. I was playing for the Belgian national ladies’ volleyball team against a team from the Netherlands in a cup match that was taking place against the Netherlands. While we were waiting for the game to start I saw the crowds arriving. There was a bent little old woman leaning over a stick. I thought that I recognised her – it turned out to be my aunt from Ottawa. After the game she came over to chat. She asked about the performance. She thought that it was rather lethargic. I explained that that was hardly a surprise. This morning I had to get up really early to travel all the way here. I’d missed my breakfast. I’d normally come on the train as far as here all the way from Belgium but luckily this morning one of the other competitors and her friend brought me in their car.

Unfortunately this modern way of thinking is not for me, where you can self-identify as something completely different and expect everyone to adapt to you. Let’s face it – I self-identify as an intellectual who can write some really excellent prose and I wish that everyone would respect my choice and identify me accordingly. But some of the names that I have been called are not only unkind but completely disrespectful and I am offended. So there! As far as my writing goes, I can only echo the comments of the Reverend George Gilfillan of Dundee who, when commenting upon the works of another author 150 years ago, said "Shakespeare never wrote anything like this"

This was a series of dreams about a small girl. She reminded me a little of Percy Penguin, probably in her late teens or early twenties but she wasn’t very switched on. You had to explain even the simplest of tasks to her three or four times before you thought that she might have grasped it. Everything that she was doing was always a couple of tasks behind for example I remember telling her once to do something then telling her to do something else then telling her to do something else, but she came back with a problem about the first thing “yes, I’ve emptied the bath” which she should have emptied ten or fifteen minutes ago. It was very hard for anyone to look after her because she was so willing that she’d run around trying to do things and being too eager, she’d usually do them incorrectly or there would be a mistake where she’d forget something so all her work would have to be re-done. It was terribly frustrating because she was a lovely, keen, willing girl but she just could not grasp the same ideas that we had as quickly as we did.

“I remember telling her once to do something then telling her to do something else then telling her to do something else” – hark at me, barking out the orders. Who do I think I am? However, as we very well know, some people are like that and need to have orders barked at them if ever you wish to accomplish anything. Sometimes, organisation can be something of a thankless task.

The nurse came round as usual and he seemed much more like his old self – almost friendly in fact. However he asked if I had been down to the pharmacy to pick up the anaesthetic cream.

and so I asked him how he thought that I should have gone down there but he didn’t answer me. Instead, after much beating about the bush he asked me if I’d received the prescription.
"What prescription?"
"For the anaesthetic cream"
"I’ve not had any prescription"

It turns out that I should have had a prescription for the anaesthetic cream, I should have collected (or arranged to have it collected) it from the pharmacy and everything should be ready for the nurse to apply the cream because I start dialysis on Tuesday.

"No I don’t" I replied. "Apart from anything else, I told them right at the beginning that I’m not free on Tuesdays"

Then we had the usual argument that I have with everyone in the medical profession. Their job is to keep me alive, and the longer they do so, the more of a success it is.

However that all comes with a payoff with regard to the quality of life. I’m determined to have some quality in my life and if it means that I shuffle off this mortal coil six months or a year or two years earlier, I couldn’t care less.

There’s no way that I’m going to finish my days living like a vegetable in a Home. As Neil Young said, BETTER TO BURN OUT THAN TO FADE AWAY

As you might expect, the nurse was horrified but that’s just too bad. That’s the way it is. If they come for me on Tuesday I’m not going and that’s all there is to say about the matter.

After he left I made breakfast and then sat down to read my book. I’ve finished the book on THE ICKNIELD WAY and have started on THE ROMANS IN BRITAIN

That’s a book written in 1923 as a collection of lectures that were presented at Toronto University. It doesn’t pretend to be a scholarly tome but more of a lightweight approach as an introduction to what will inevitably be an inexhaustible study

Once breakfast was over I made some more bread. I’d used up the last of the old loaf this morning.

The bread didn’t rise as well as I would have liked. Nevertheless it’s quite light and fluffy. It was really nice having a cheese and tomato sandwich for lunch made with totally fresh, soft home-made bread.

This afternoon I had a chat with Alison on the internet and also rang Rosemary back after Friday when I fell asleep.

Rosemary’s garden s doing really well, which is nice, but we didn’t have much time to chat – only a short one of one hour and seventeen minutes – because I had a caller at the door.

My transformer (thanks, Grahame, for the heads-up) to power the Genz-Benz has arrived at last. But I can’t use it yet because the power cable that I need wasn’t included with the order. That’s coming from the USA apparently and will be here in a few days time. So we still aren’t up and running.

And then we had the football. It’s sad to say it, but Llansawel are already down, in my opinion, after just a handful of games. If form is anything to go by, the remaining relegation place should be occupied by either Aberystwyth or Y Ffint, and they were playing each other this afternoon.

It’s smething of a grudge match because Aberystwyth’s manager apparently said something unkind about Y Fflint when they were relegated a couple of seasons ago, and that has rankled with Lee Fowler, Y Fflint’s manager.

So far this season I’ve already seen each club, and for a team second-bottom with no points, I’ve been impressed with Y Fflint. They’ve taken the attack to the opposition and have been robbed of some of the spoils on a couple of occasions just by the cruellest of bad luck.

On the other hand, although Aberystwyth haven’t impressed me, they always seem to find something special at the important moments.

Today’s game was actually quite entertaining. It roared from end to end and each team created quite a few chances. It was littered with mistakes though – neither team could hang onto the ball and would lose possession far too easily.

For once though, Y Fflint had the rub of the green and while the score of 2-0 in their favour might be an exaggeration, you have to ride your luck when you can. If they play with this kind of spirit and enthusiasm and their luck holds, they should be OK but sometimes this league can be cruel.

Tea tonight was as usual, a baked potato with salad and one of my breaded quorn fillets followed by home-made apple crumble. I know that my meals are quite repetitive but I happen to like them and that’s what’s important.

So right now I’m off to bed, later than usual but with a lie-in until 08:00. And won’t I be happy when I can say goodbye to all of this nonsense with the nurses?

But all of this talk about people self-identifying reminds me of the man who went to the psychiatrists
"Doctor! Doctor! I think that I’m a dog"
"Really?" asked the psychiatrist. "How long is it that you’ve had this feeling?"
"Ever since I was a puppy"
"I think that you’d better lie down on my couch"
"I can’t" replied the man. "I’m not allowed to"

0

Friday 6th September 2024 – SO THAT’S THE …

… end of this long series of Welsh-language Summer Schools for another year.

And I can’t say that I’m sorry because my head has turned to porridge or some such like. You’ve no idea just how much it takes out of you having to work like this

When you reach “a certain age” it’s not just your body that slows down. Your brain does too and if you don’t keep exercising your brain it tends to stick, just as your other muscles do if you don’t exercise them

It’s important therefore that you do what you can to keep your brain ticking over somehow or other and this series of Welsh-language courses is my way to go.

Previously I was registered with Oxford University’s series of continuing courses as well as the “OpenLearn” project and I learned some interesting things. But the study wasn’t really a formal study in any sense of the word, even if I did enjoy that course on translating Roman gravestone inscriptions

So formal study it is – and was throughout this Summer but now I’m going to sit with my feet up and relax until … errr … Tuesday, when the 5th Year of my Welsh course begins. Just this year and next year to go and I’ll be ‘O’ Level standard.

That is, in theory. Despite all of the courses on which I’ve enrolled I still feel as if I’m miles off the pace. I can understand just how Homer Simpson was feeling when he said "every time I learn something new, it pushes something old out".

But anyway, be that as it may, I had another late night last night. One of my groundhoppers, about whom I’ve spoken in the past, was out and about. He had been to Heriot-Watt University to watch them take on Arniston Rangers in the East of Scotland League.

He’s not a very good commentator and could benefit from learning a few of the rules regarding refereeing, but he goes to some interesting places and makes a good video. I had to stay up and watch the game

Eventually I managed to take myself off to bed, much later than I should have done, and was asleep quite quickly.

And there I stayed until about 06:20 with hardly moving a muscle. And then it was tossing and turning about until 07:00 when the alarm went off and I could haul myself off into the bathroom.

There wasn’t much that I needed to do or felt like doing at that time of the morning and I was soon back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was playing in a rock group. One of the songs that we were singing was THE RAIN SONG by Led Zeppelin. One day we began to dissect the song phrase by phrase, line by line to examine it to try to find out exactly what it meant. As we delved deeply into the song we found that it began to mean quite a lot that we hadn’t realised and hadn’t understood at all at the time. It was much more of an anthem than quite simply a song. There were a great many phrases in there that could be changed to give a completely different meaning so we experimented with some and swapped some round, put the emphasis on different words to see exactly what would happen to the song

You’ll be surprised just how many songs there are that talk about the rain. One of these days I ought to make a list and maybe even a radio programme. But it’s true that the Led Zeppelin song isn’t really about the rain at all if you look carefully at the lyrics. “The rain” is symbolic of bad luck and sadness.

I was attending University somewhere and had gone for a walk around the campus. There were several building with machines inviting you to play them. One particular building had a big embankment around it that effectively sealed it off from the rest of the University. Instead of going all the way around the path I decided to take a short cut by walking around the back of this building and climbing up the mound over the top and down the other side. The mound was much, much steeper than I thought and full of abandoned cigarette ends. When I reached the top I was spellbound by the view. It was like seeing the Sacré Coeur church for the very first time perched on the horizon. Behind me on the horizon was the spot on the high road where I’d stopped many times to take a photo of it but I’d never ever seen it from down here in the valley from the top of this mound. It looked so impressive that I wondered why I’d never come by this way before and why this view had never been shown to the public because it was really one of the best views that I had ever seen

And while it’s not exactly the Sacré Coeur, which is actually situated on top of a ridge on the edge of Brussels, the church that I saw during the night was L’Oratoire de St Joseph situated on its ridge in Montreal not too far from the Snowdon Metro Station. Where it is, it’s clearly visible for mines around and it so intrigued us as we kept on passing it at a distance that in 2013 WE FINALLY WENT TO VISIT IT. Those were the days when we used to get out and about at the drop of a hat at the slightest excuse. These days, even going to the bathroom has become a major expedition involving native bearers, well-versed local guides and the attendance of a registered nurse. What kind of state am I in?

At one time or another there was Pete Townshend’s son who was wearing scruffy clothes and drifting around from place to place but Pete Townshend suddenly decided to have a word with him to make him wear more respectable clothes and make him adopt a much more professional and personal attitude towards life, which didn’t go down very well at first but slowly the son began to take it all on board.

As if Pete Townshend would ever be interested in people being more respectable? Mind you I can tell you some stories …

The nurse was quite chatty this morning. He seems to have calmed down quite a lot from our eruption and explosion the other day and if he keeps up with the improvement he might become quite human. Apparently the clinic where I’m likely to be dialysed has been in contact with him. Things seem to be moving rapidly these days

After he left I went for the final day of my course. And it didn’t go as well as the other days which is a shame. I think that I’ve become saturated now.

When it was over I breathed a sigh of relief. I went into my nice clean kitchen – clean because the cleaner had been – and found that my course book for the forthcoming year has now arrived. So it’s “all systems go” starting on Tuesday.

Except that I have a hospital appointment on Tuesday afternoon, and so I had to ring up to book myself a taxi to take me there.

Rosemary had rung me and I’d promised to ‘phone her back but after my hot chocolate I came back in here and regrettably fell asleep, totally exhausted. I forgot to ‘phone her so there will be a red face tomorrow when I call her back

Tea was falafel and chips with a very tired salad. My lettuce don’t seem to keep too well, not even in the fridge which is a shame. However, when I move I shall buy a big, decent, proper fridge and start again from Square One with my food storage activities.

And so that’s it for today. I’m off to bed now if there’s nothing else going on. I’m totally exhausted after all of this.

But as Led Zeppelin said, “Upon us all a little rain must fall”. But not upon all of us equally
"The rain falls down upon the just
And also un the unjust fellow
But mostly on the just because
The unjust steals the just’s umbrella"

0

Friday 23rd August 2024 – WELL, IT’S ANOTHER …

… really late night tonight.

For some reason that I don’t understand I completely forgot about the football tonight. Y Bala v Y Fflint and this was a game that I really wanted to see.

But it slipped my mind and when I came back from tea tonight the first half was almost over. Luckily it’s on a recorded stream so I could wind it back to the start and watch it from the kick-off, but it means that now the final whistle has gone, it’s not really late

There’s definitely something going on here because I seem to be forgetting just about everything these days and I can see this bringing me into some serious trouble at some point because there’s a load of stuff piling up and some of it is really important.

At least I remembered to wash my puttees. After I finished my notes last night I went into the bathroom to sort myself out and then washed the puttees. They had been soaking for 36 hours in warm soapy water so it didn’t take long and they were quite clean afterwards.

Furthermore, I managed to do it without knocking myself or making myself bleed and that’s an achievement in itself these days.

It was quite early too when I went to bed. In fact I beat my 23:00 target. Only by a couple of minutes but even so, that’s still important. And it didn’t take long to go to sleep either.

A couple of times during the night I awoke but I remained stuck to my mattress until the alarm at 07:00 when I crawled out of bed and into the bathroom. I had a good wash and shave of the parts that I missed yesterday, and then I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone. Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson had been recruited to hunt down an old friend of Watson’s who had disappeared, someone who lived in salubrious surroundings. It was no surprise that he’d disappeared but a lot of people were worried soo they were set on the trail. Eventually, following a series of clues, they managed to track him down to a doss-house in Limehouse where he was staying under an assumed name. Apparently he’d had money difficulties so he’d sold a lot of his possessions to a pawn shop and with the money was living the life of an escapee in crude digs or something. When Holmes and Watson caught up with him he was extremely remorseful. He said that he’d spent £2900 but that was everything that he had and there was not a penny left so Holmes and Watson had to sell whatever possessions he still had in order to recruit him back into society. They had the cunning plan of advertising an Electricity Service where they could band together all the residents in one particular area and agree to arrange their electricity for them, including new houses that hadn’t had electricity up until now so they were going through these houses and photographs, selecting the best photographs. There was one there with a ghost walking out of the front door between two people and they were trying their best to capture this image but for some reason the image didn’t seem to want to be captured

There were several stories similar to this one in the Sherlock Holmes repertoire and of course his author, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, was very interested in the paranormal, being a huge supporter of spiritualism, séances and the supernatural arts to an extent that was almost fanatical. Seeing a ghost in between two real live humans would have been no problem for Conan Doyle.

When the nurse came I told her the good news about her supplies, my new puttees and the switch for the door. She gave me my injection and then dealt with my legs while chatting away. She reminded me that it’s a blood test tomorrow and she also need another … errr … sample … of a different type. I hope that I remember.

After breakfast I tidied up a little and then went to my Welsh class. It’s the last day today for a week or so so we can relax but she still had us working hard. I feel much more confident about my skills right now, but there was an awful lot to take in.

The big issue is that Welsh is not a Romance language like French or Spanish or Italian. It’s a Celtic language similar to Breton, Gaelic and Scots Gaelic so the rules of grammar are nothing like those to which I’m accustomed.

The vocabulary too bears little resemblance to any Latin-based language so sometimes it’s impossible to have a guess at the words.

There was a pause at midday when my cleaner came in to bring the medication – or, at least, the first load. The rest will come over the next day or two.

When the lesson finished I was surprised once more by the cleaner. We have a friend in the building who has now gone into a Home, and my cleaner, who had been tidying up her apartment, brought down some apple purée and tinned food that might be of use to me, which was very kind of them.

A neighbour popped in to, and left me some lovely strawberries. I seem to be flavour of the month right now.

Then Rosemary wanted me on the phone so we had a quick chat. Only a short chat today – just 58 minutes. We seem to be losing our touch

Tea tonight was falafel and chips with a vegan salad – delicious as usual but I’m running low on salad stuff. It might be sausage, beans and chips for tea tomorrow night yet. But regardless of that, the strawberries were delicious and there are some left for the next few days.

Then we had the football. Newly-promoted Y Fflint v Y Bala down at maes Tegid – Bala’s “Cae Tatws” football ground.

As has been said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … there’s a massive gulf between the second tier and the first tier and that was evident today.

But while Llansawel, the other promoted side, were being well and truly turned over by Cardiff Metropolitan, Y Fflint put up a gritty battle and while the result (Y Bala won 2-0) was never in any doubt, Y Fflint were in the mix all the way to the final whistle.

A loss though is a loss and already we’re starting to see a little gap open up between the two new sides, stuck at the foot of the table, and the other 10 clubs in the division and it’s rather early for this kind of thing. Three games without a point is still no points, no matter how well you play and how close the game are.

So right now I’m going to bed, hours later than I intended. I’m not doing myself any favours at all.

But talking of mediums and spiritualism and the like I once had someone ‘phone me up
"I’m phoning to tell you about Madame (whatever)". said the voice. "She’s a world famous Medium …"
"Well, she can’t be much good, can she?" I said
"Why?" asked the voice
"Because if she’d been any good, she’d have foretold exactly how this conversation would end …" and I hung up the ‘phone.

0

Monday 12th August 2024 – AND SO THAT WAS …

… Day One of my three weeks (two weeks, then a pause for Bank Holiday week, and then the final week) Welsh Summer School

And such is the way of the World that this cycle of courses, that has run all through the summer, isn’t a series of repeated courses. It’s one long course that’s been broken up into several segments.

So here I am again, going over the latter part of the course yet again when it was the start of the course that I wanted – the period when I was in Canada and then in hospital.

It seems to me that I’m fated never to do this part of the course.

One thing about it though is that it at least made sure that I was in bed at something like a respectable time last night. Later than 23:00 it has to be said, but not by al that much by the time that I’d finished doing everything that I have to do.

And once in be I was asleep quickly too. I awoke briefly at about 06:15 but went back to sleep until the alarm roused me from my reverie

It was something like a disreputable stagger into the bathroom where I had a good scrub up and sorted myself out for the day to come.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. My cleaner put in an appearance during the night. She was going on about my unkempt appearance, my wild hair, my beard and so on so I resolved to tidy myself up. The first thing that I did was to cut my hair. I was in a hotel room and to get to this room I had to climb up about forty stairs. It was much easier to climb because they were all in a straight line than it was to come into the stairs here so I was in my room in no time. I sat down and took out my hair cutter and began to cut my hair. One thing that I’d noticed was that someone had been in my room. It was supposed to have been tidied but it looked as if a tornado had hit it. There was a half-burnt still-smoking cigar on the floor which I thought was totally strange. I began to shave my head with my hair clippers to try to make myself look more respectable but I thought “I wonder what they are going to say at the reception desk when they’d seen some wild-haired guy go up to claim his room and some neat-looking stranger coming down.

Actually I’d had a shave this morning – the first time for several days – and my hair does need cutting. It’s not quite at the “Wild Man of Borneo” stage but I could certainly put the willies up anyone who comes too close. And fancy my cleaner turning up during the night. This is the first time, I reckon, that she’s put in an appearance on a nocturnal ramble. So what’s going on here?

The nurse and I had a bit of a chat this morning. He wants to wash my feet at some point so I’ll have to wash the puttees from last week. They are currently soaking in the bowl that I use for washing my feet.

With him being early and being quick about it I had plenty of time to revise my Welsh for today, which means that I spent it reading the wrong units.

When the course started we counted heads. There were ten of us pupils, yet a total of fifteen had paid for the course. God alone knows where the others are.

And this tutor is someone whom I know because I’ve had her a few times before in Summer Schools and so on. She’s the archetypal example of South Walians who think that there’s nothing any further north of the Head of the Valleys except sheep and druids

For example, she was telling everyone that LLanelwy is the local name for what the English call Builth Wells, but the Welsh name for Builth Wells is “Llanfair-ym-Muallt”. The town of LLanelwy is what the English would call St Asaph

Not that I would correct her though. I don’t want to lose the goodwill of the teacher on the first day. There’s more than enough time to do that over the next three weeks without going to look for it.

She’s actually set us homework too. I suppose that she’s right. We have to push on with these courses otherwise there’s no point in doing them. I’ll do my homework in the morning and that will refresh me for the lesson tomorrow.

During the breaks I managed to finish off the radio programme whose notes I was editing on Sunday. There’s just the final track to choose and the notes to write for it which I’ll also do in the morning.

When the lesson finished I had my hot chocolate, and a slice of my delicious, soggy, gooey chocolate cake.

There’s enough here for a couple of weeks so I hope that it won’t go off or anything like that. I have it in an airtight tin but I’m going very shortly to move it into a plastic box to store in the fridge

And then I had a chat to Rosemary on the ‘phone. Just a short chat today – only 1 hour and 55 minutes. We seem to be finding our form again which is good news. But I really don’t know what we talk about in these ‘phone calls.

Tea tonight was a stuffed pepper. With tons of stuffing left over for tomorrow and Wednesday too. The stuffing was different today and I’m not sure why. I don’t think that I’ve forgotten any ingredient. That’s usually why it tastes different.

So having washed my puttees and hung them up to dry I’m going to try to go to bed before there are any more disturbances and without bleeding to death

But talking of Wales reminds me of the Welsh sailor who was admitted to hospital here in Granville the other day
The matron came in and told one of the doctors "that sailor who’s just been admitted. He has the word ‘Ludo’ tattooed on … errr … a certain part of his anatomy"
The doctor was so surprised that he asked the young student nurse to check
She came back a short while later "Matron was wrong, sir" she told the doctor
"Is that so?" asked the doctor
"Yes" she replied. "It’s not ‘Ludo’, it’s ‘Llandudno’"

0

Saturday 27th July 2024 – HAVING HAD A COUPLE …

… of days where I haven’t crashed out at all, or nearly so, during the day, I made up for it today.

It wasn’t quite as bad as last Saturday where I spent all afternoon crashed out until teatime, but it wasn’t far off.

That’s quite a disappointment, as I’m sure that you can imagine. I thought that I was getting over this spell of dramatic tiredness, but apparently not. I’ll just have to keep on plugging away and hoping that somewhere, somehow, I’ll find a solution.

It’s not as if I was particularly late in bed.

It wasn’t 23:00, that’s for sure, but it was near enough to make no difference, and I slept right through until … errr … 04:15.

No danger of my leaving the bed at that time though. I curled up under the quilt and went back to sleep until the alarm went off at 07:00.

The ‘phone was plugged into the computer, charging up, so it was a scramble across the bedroom to switch it off when it rang. And then it was an ungainly stagger into the bathroom.

After I’d washed I had to sort out the puttees. Moaning Minnie had wanted them washing so they had been soaking overnight. This morning I gave them a good hand-washing and hung them in the bathroom to dry.

There already was a pair that I’d washed a few days ago so I took those down and rolled them up ready for use today.

Next job was to tidy up the LeClerc shopping bags that are all over the place and put them one inside another. There’s a consigne or “deposit” of €0:20 per bag that I receive back when I turn the bags in to the deliverer on his next trip so I don’t want to lose or damage them.

There was time then to come in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. My father was working for a company in transport again. In the garage they had an old, disreputable type of van-thing that they used to go out to breakdowns on. It was always my father and his friend who went. I noticed that my father was becoming rather sullen and sulky so I asked him why. It turns out that he’d had a row with his partner at work. The guy was being difficult about putting on his seatbelt. Anyway the next day the two of us were out in this old van. I was trying to make the seatbelt fasten but it didn’t work and it left an oily stain on my clothes. My father said that now his friend had stated quite flatly and frankly that he’s no longer putting on his seatbelt under any circumstances and that had rather soured their relationship. We were talking about it and trying to find other things for my father to do in his spare time. He did some taxi driving at one point but said that with his friend being difficult now and he drives for another company and has friends here and there, my father is going to have to stop driving as my father doesn’t want any unpleasantness if he confronts any of these people while they are out doing the evening taxi driving so we were having to think of other things that my father could do to pass the time.

At my father’s place they had a series of big Mercedes vans and he and his colleagues were off all over the UK sorting out breakdowns on the lorries, all mostly old Foden and ERF glass-fibre cab stuff. Anything else would fall apart in weeks due to the effects of the salt, but they and their contractors had Fodens that were 20-odd years old and still doing a heavy day’s work. Nothing luxurious about them at all but they would go for ever

But it looks as if my family’s intervention in my night-time travels will go on for ever. It beats me why this would be the case. During the day I don’t think about them at all yet here they are. On the other hand, I can think about Zero, Castor and TOTGA all I like but do they put in an appearance in my dreams? I should be so lucky.

Later on, I was called out for my bad singing by a group of readers of a Scottish rock magazine so I thought that I’d better do something to defend myself. I began to debate whether to announce to the world the fact that I’m suffering from this illness, whether it would be a good idea and what would be the consequences if I did, going on a circuit of concerts to reassure the fans was hardly the correct thing to do if I’m going to claim to be too ill to sing properly so I’ll have to think very carefully about what to do to restore my popularity with my rock fans in Scotland.

This dream is actually an allegory. It relates to an incident involving Scotland that took place in 2007-2008 and from which certain issues are still reverberating around even today, with one or two unfortunate and unwilling victims swept up in the chaos. Still, that’s a pretty good description of real life. There are innocent victims swept up in the chaos of everyone’s story. And as for my singing, well, the less said about that the better.

The nurse was going to wash my feet today so I had to have everything ready, including a clean towel and flannel. He had a moan about the towel not being clean enough, but that’s as clean as it gets with my washing machine.

He has a point of course, and I can see it. If I catch an infection, he’ll be blamed regardless of what he has done, so he needs to cover himself. But it’s still quite depressing all the same.

The puttees weren’t particularly clean either, despite the good wash that this set had had at the beginning of the week, but he bit his tongue about them.

After he left I made myself some breakfast and read for a while my book on the siting of churches in Medieval times. We’re onto an interesting chapter about burials where a chariot and horse, and presumably a charioteer or two, were interred with the deceased. It’s all good stuff.

Later on, after a very slow start to the day, I began to think about this radio programme.

It’ll take place early – very early – in the New Year and it has a certain theme, but that’s as far as I’d gone with it. Today, I set about choosing the music.

As usual, after my efforts yesterday, I have far too much. It would be much easier if I only had a dozen, but today I had to pick 10 – or 8 longer ones – from a selection of at least 21. Anyway, eventually, after being away with the fairies for a couple of hours I have 8 sorted out plus a reserve supply of a couple in case I need them.

Once I’d organised this much I set down to think about what I’m going to write. And I made a little stat when Rosemary rang me up for a chat, which was nice. I can’t go working all the time.

This was just a short chat this time – a mere hour and eleven minutes.

But I teased her by saying that she’s becoming a crazy cat lady. Not only is she regaling me with tales of Myrtille’s latest activities, she’s also told me that Myrtille is bringing a friend round, a scrawny, half-starved black and white cat.

Anyone who knows anything at all about cats will know that there is nothing surprising about any of this. It won’t be long before Rosemary has half a dozen cats winding their bodies around her legs.

Tea tonight was one of my lovely breaded quorn fillets with salad and baked potato. My air fryer is doing a great job but I’m sure that it can do much, much more than I’m doing with it.

That’s something that I’ll be doing when I move downstairs – having a decent oven, a decent microwave and plenty of space to work. And I can’t wait. This 10 months will seem like 10 years.

In a mad fit of enthusiasm I even found the time to dictate a huge pile of arrears for the radio notes. I’ll start editing those tomorrow after I’ve watched the highlights of today’s football matches. I’m now up to February next year which is where I want to be

It’s the Olympics here in France now, and nothing can be further from my mind than that. But we’ve had a team of Olympic athletes being shown around the old walled town today and they came by here. My cleaner told me to go to the window to look.

Whoever they were, they were dressed all in blue track suit stuff but I didn’t recognise anything. I don’t have a clue who they were.

But it did remind me of an incident at the 1986 European Championships at Stuttgart where Fatima Whitbread won the Gold for Britain in the Pentathlon with an absolutely magnificent throw of the javelin that broke all records and even cleared the safety fence at the far end of the stadium
Ten minutes later, the news was announced, followed by "and the gold medal in javelin-catching has been awarded to Herr Heinz Schmidt, who was walking his dog in the park in the background".
Ten minutes later there was another announcement. "Please cancel that last message. Unfortunately, there is no provision in the rules of the European Championships for medals to be awarded posthumously."

0

Friday 19th July 2024 – "SMILE!" THEY SAID.

"things could be worse!"

And so I smiled. And sure enough, things were worse.

It’s difficult to believe just how things are unravelling here right at the moment. Getting ready for bed last night after finishing my notes, I fell over.

It was another one of these “falling over backwards” things like I had in the kitchen the other day. This time though it was in the bedroom.

What is hard to believe and it’s true all the same, that despite all of the rubbish, mess, guitars and everything that clutter up this place, I actually hit the ground on my back without hitting anything on the way down. And the chances of that happening must have been extremely remote, to say the least.

It took me about half an hour to make it to my feet. Some kind of weird gyration from a sitting position into being able to crawl onto the bed with the aid of a well-stuffed suitcase as some kind of half-way step

But what a state to get into. I had visions of pulling the quilt down and sleeping on top of the carpet until Isabelle the nurse would rescue me in the morning.

However I struggled back upright, finished what I had to do and then rather happily crawled into bed with a sigh of relief.

After all of the exertions I was totally surprised to be wide awake at about 06:15 and I was actually up and about before the alarm went off

This morning I had a good wash and scrub up as well as a shave and change of clothes if I’m going out. And then waiting for Isabelle the nurse, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was with my taxis last night. We had a town, we had a plot of land so we decided that we’d set up something there and run the taxis from it. I had a nice little garage and a couple of cars but while I was talking about setting up everything I awoke in the middle of it and lost all of the momentum in the dream that I was having which was a shame

Not really a shame. I might have enjoyed running a taxi business 40 years ago but the gloss soon wore off and I wouldn’t go back to doing it again, not even during a dream, thank you very much.

And then I was expecting to slip into the estate of a relative of mine who was dying. What was important about this was that there had been another relative who had died under mysterious circumstances abroad and his body had been in a deep-freeze for years while people argued about where he was to go and what he was to do etc. I suspected that the British Coroner was unwilling to accept the body because he’d have to perform a post-mortem on it. There had been this huge campaign for years to bring this person’s body and that of several other people in similar circumstances, to bring them home and lay them to rest. The first thing that I did when I inherited the estate was to contact some firm of undertakers and make arrangements for this body to be brought back to the UK. I was expecting to be besieged by the Press and by news reporters but no-one actually came to visit me last night about this. The only person who set foot on my premises was my brother and I didn’t really know what he wanted. It was certainly nothing to do with this particular thing but after all the fuss and bother that had been made when the relative who died had refused to repatriate the relative from abroad, the fact that I issued repatriation instructions immediately that I took over the estate and that passed unnoticed, it was totally bizarre.

My greatest wish is that no-one repatriates me to the UK. I own a burial plot in the cemetery at Ixelles in Brussels where Marianne is interred but I don’t want to go there either. I want to be put in a natural cemetery and a tree planted on top of me. That’s how I shall live for ever – being absorbed into the roots of a tree that will grow and grow.

Finally I was living at home and wanted a bath so I stuck my head in the bathroom. My little sister was in the bath and my two younger brothers were drying themselves so I thought “never mind – I’ll have a bath again”. I went off to do something or other. On the way back I heard some noise in the bathroom so I went to see. Now my sister had left the bath so I thought “ahh, here’s a bath full of water free”. My brother said “the shower by the way is totally useless but the bath is wonderful” so I thought “I’m really looking forward to getting into the bath at last and having a good wash. I certainly need one”.

Ahhh the good old days – all in the bath, oldest first while the water is hotter. If we are lucky there might be a bit of hot water left in the baby burco water boiler – careful not to scald yourself when you pour it into the bucket and tip it into the bath.

All the smaller kids in the bath together. “ohh look, a bubble-bath” – yes, it was baked beans on toast for tea

Apart from the fact that I don’t have two brothers, anyone who goes on about “the good old days” will receive a smack in the mouth. There was nothing whatever that was good about them.

Isabelle was late coming. There’s all kinds of chaos going on all over the place this morning apparently. She didn’t wait around long because she was in a hurry so she cleared off quickly and I had a rather late breakfast.

The taxi was late coming too. All of their computing system and radio control has broken down and they are driving around with pencil and notepad with a list of jobs. Just like back in the 1960s before radio control in fact. Nothing seems to be working this morning.

They were all working at the Nephrology Clinic – at least, the people who saw me were. Unfortunately Emilie the Cute Consultant wasn’t there to soothe my fevered brow but her sidekick was and I told him my tale of woe about being held to ransom at the clinic down the road.

He had the decency to be upset and apologetic, but I made it quite clear that I wasn’t going to set even one foot ever again in that maudit établissement

And it turned out that while Emilie the Cute Consultant wasn’t there, she’d been talking about me to the others and some of my little secrets are now in the public domain.

Still, there’s only one thing worse than being talked about, and that’s NOT being talked about. It’s nice to know that Emilie the Cute Consultant thinks that I’m worth talking about.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … Nephrology Clinic, the consultant there admired the work that my cleaner and Isabelle the nurse had done. He considered that I’m lucky in having such good and attentive people around me.

There’s localised swelling but the wound itself is healing, it’s not septic and he’s pleased with the progress.

He can’t explain the panic the other night because there were no obvious signs. If we hadn’t imagined it, which I assured him that we hadn’t, he reckoned that my little team of helpers had resolved everything on the spot in the nick of time.

While I was waiting for my taxi back his secretary went off in search of an orange juice. And just as she came back with apple juice, the taxi arrived.

On getting in I texted my cleaner to say that we were on our way back, only for him to announce that we had other pick-ups.

So eventually with a full car of passengers we headed back to Granville. The driver asked if he could practise his English on the way home so we had a very interesting chat on the way home

Back here I had a salad for lunch and then came in here where I promptly crashed out. And how. I was dead to the World. I hadn’t even noticed that my cleaner had been and gone.

Rosemary rang me for a chat and it must have been a very strange chat at first as I struggled to awaken.

After she’d finished I had my hot chocolate and then made a loaf of bread. While that was proofing i made some naan dough

And then I could finally have the leftover curry that I should have had on Wednesday.

Tomorrow I have lots of work to to, catching up with radio stuff. I should have finished off that radio programme today but what with one thing and another I didn’t.

So don’t forget, Saturday night, my Hawkfest at LE BOUQUET GRANVILLAIS at 21:00 CET, 20:00 UK Time, 15:00 Toronto time.

But thinking of all of the kids in the bath together reminds me of the noble Lord being attended to at his bath by his manservant, Wibble.
Suddenly the noble Lord breaks wind in the water. And the manservant dashes off and comes back with a hot water bottle.
"Why have you brought that?" asked the noble Lord
"You asked for it, My Lord" said Wibble
"I asked for it?"
"Yes, my Lord" replied Wibble. "I heard you clearly. You said ‘what about a water bottle, Wibble’ "

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Monday 15th July 2024 – SO H-HOUR …

… is 13:00 tomorrow. At least, that’s what time I’m expected to be present and standing by my bed. The operation will presumably be rather later than that.

and that’s a shame. I was hoping for an early start, while the knife is still sharp, but it’s not to be. The taxi is coming for me at 12:15 and then it’ll be “panic stations” for the next God-knows how long.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I have a horror of hospitals, tubes, pipes and the like. Since all of this began in 2015 I’ve been living my nightmare almost every single day and believe me, it’s not made me any more accustomed to it.

Something else to which I am not accustomed is “going to bed early”. It won’t be happening today but it did last night. Being in bed before my target time of 23:00 is a very rare event these days indeed.

And I slept the Sleep of the Dead too, all the way through until 06:15 when the glass lorry came to collect the glass from the recycling bin across the road.

And if you want to know a good definition of “noise”, stand outside here when he drops the contents of the bin into the back of his lorry.

He made such a racket that I was thinking of getting up to face the day but discretion is the better part of valour and I curled up under the quilt again to have my money’s worth

When the alarm went off I headed to the bathroom to sort myself out and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We were having some kind of holiday, people who were handicapped or disabled in some way or other had gone to a holiday camp. There was a compere there trying to introduce everything. He was dressed in sandals and socks, and his sandals were far too big for him. He was generally crooning away there and I thought to myself “look at the state of him”. I happened to mention it to a couple of other people who wee in one of the rooms that they should have gone to look at him but they thought that there was nothing happening in the other rooms so I told them that they’d be surprised. There were about 20 people altogether milling around in the three or four different rooms. Things looked as if they might be starting to liven up, and not before time. While I was back there with my head stuck in the door looking at what was happening in that room someone noticed me and said that they had an invitation here for the Duchess of Claibourne. I told them to pass the invitation to me because I knew all about it. She’s being asked to prepare to appear on a TV programme, something like “Tomorrow’s World” or something like thzt and I know all about it. Even so it was still surprising that they’d asked these people to look after the Duchess of Claibourne when their own meeting was pretty poorly attended and there wasn’t a great deal of anything going on with the proceedings and last night it wasn’t until 23:00 that they could go to bed (… fell asleep here …) so in one of the rooms with some of the people in it there was a room with a drinking container with a handle on it for people who needed it. There was something going on in there but I fell asleep while I was trying to line it up to see what was happening so I missed the beginning of what was going on with all these uninspiring people being here and being in charge of the organisation.

As for who the Duchess of Claibourne is, she’s a character in a series of books written by someone called CS Harris and I can safely say without fear of contradiction that I’d absolutely no idea that there ever was such a person, real or fictitious, and I’ve never read a book by the aforementioned author. Where the name has come from in my dream I have no idea. But there was a lot of talk about 15 years ago about these holiday camps for disabled people, so it’s taken quite a while to come round to feature in a dream. Quite frankly, I can’t think of anything more ghastly. I’d rather stay at home, I reckon, the presence of the Duchess of Claibourne notwithstanding.

When the nurse came round she bandaged me up, had a little chat and then left. I have the impression that she’s trying to raise my morale right now which is nice of her. I could certainly do with it. It’s a shame she won’t be there in Avranches to hold my hand.

After breakfast I came back in here, and then had to track down the details about my next Welsh course. I have to sign up before the end of the month so I thought that I’d do it today.

With a little help from one of my friends I managed to find the correct course (at least, I hope that it’s the correct one) and while I was at at, I found a week’s course with another provider that starts when my next Summer School finishes and goes over what we (should have) learned this year.

One of my plans was to redo this year because I’d missed most of it with my various appointments and to do it with another provider to save embarrassment, but this seems to be the best of both words. Not to mention that it’s only going to cost £15:00 and I even have 50% discount from that.

In the future I’ll be looking out for a few more short courses like this. I’ve probably done half a dozen or so at least and it keeps me off the streets.

My cleaner put her sooty foot in the door too. She’d been into town this morning and they had the disinfectant stuff that the nurse needs so she dropped off a packet. I need to keep the nurse stocked up with supplies. But this place, there’s so much in the way of medication around here that I could open a pharmacy.

The hospital rang up at this point. They want me there standing by my bed at 13:00 and they gave me a whole list of “do’s” and “don’t”. But frankly I’m past caring. They want me to have a shower, but that’s out of the question of course.

They want me to not only bring my medication but to bring it in its boxes. For God’s sake, I’m going in a taxi, not a blasted lorry.

And then they want me to shave my arm ready. I don’t even know where they are going to make the incision.

My general, habitual lack of preparedness means that I’ll probably get it in the neck when I arrive, especially if the Beast from the Hôpital in the Baie is on duty but I don’t care.

This afternoon I was dealing with the fourth lot of radio notes that I’d dictated. They are all edited now, the final track has been chosen and I was on the point of writing the notes when Rosemary rang for a chat.

She’s back now from gallivanting around Italy and wanted to tell me how she got on so we had another one of our phone calls. Rather a short one today – only one hour and twelve minutes. We’re losing our touch.

After the call I stretched out for a minute and as a result was way late for making tea tonight; hence my lateness tonight.

We had stuffed pepper for tea again, with plenty of stuffing left over for the next few days. So for those of you who say that I want stuffing, I now have plenty, thank you. It’ll do for later in the week.

But not tonight, Josephine. I’m off to bed, ready for my appointment with destiny tomorrow. I mustn’t forget to pack my things, for I’m supposed to be staying the night. But as for that, we shall see.

One of the things that Rosemary and I discussed was adoption. We have some very strange conversations sometimes.
But it did remind me of the little boy who asked his dad "daddy, am I adopted?"
"Of course not, son" replied the father
"Really, daddy?" insisted the boy
"Absolutely" assured the father. "Why, out of a whole orphanage full of abandoned children, would anyone have chosen YOU?"

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Sunday 30th June 2024 – I’M NOT SURE …

… how long I can keep this all going. Throughout the last few months I’ve had plenty of moments when I wished that I could just close the book, lie down and go to sleep. And believe me, I had one or two of those during the day today

It’s not anything physical – well, it is, my physical condition is deteriorating rapidly, but what I mean is that there’s no pain or suffering or anything like that, at least, not yet. It’s the effect that it’s all having on my mental well-being that’s dragging me down

Doing almost anything is a complicated affair, trying to work out how I’m going to do whatever it is that I have to do while manipulating … "PERSONipulating" – ed … a pair of crutches. My whole life has become one of simple logistics.

“Simple” was the word, nothing complicated last night about going to bed. I was in bed by 23:30 so with the alarm set for 08:00 for a Sunday, for once I was set to have something of a decent lie-in.

And so it goes without saying that I was wide awake at 07:00, up and about at 07:30 and when the alarm did go off at 08:00 I was already washed, dressed and at the computer.

The nurse came round at about 08:30 to sort out my legs. She showed me her photos from last weekend at Lyon and some of them were really good.

While she was here and in a receptive mood I told her (in polite, sensitive terms of course) that I felt that the two nurses ought to be keeping a closer watch on how my condition deteriorates, and how disappointed I was that they let me get into such an awful state a couple of weeks ago.

She explained that all of that should have shown up in the various blood tests that I’d had and had the hospital or my GP looked at them closely they would have seen for themselves without the need to look at me, just how badly things were going.

There is naturally some truth in this, but nevertheless I suspect that there’s also a certain amount of buck-passing there too.

After she left I had breakfast, and then I had letters to write.

Two of the letters were painful. One was to tell my tenant in the apartment downstairs that I won’t be renewing the lease when it expires next Spring – or, at least, instruct the letting agent to do so.

Then I can move in. On the ground floor too so I can move around outside easier. I’ll smash out the bath and have a walk-in shower, and there will be a “kitty corner” for a new sub-tenant who will no doubt pay her rent in dead seagulls.

What could possibly go wrong?

As for the second, I’d rather not talk about that but someone who follows these pages will know about it.

What completed the morning was going away with the fairies for an hour or two. In fact Rosemary awoke me because she wanted a chat.

She’s still gallivanting around Italy and wanted to tell me what a good time she’s been having. As a result, we had another one of our mega-chats that goes on for ever.

She was also telling me that she had, in a moment of reckless abandon, volunteered for midwife duties despite knowing nothing whatsoever about babies, children, giving birth and all of that.

We joked about that famous line in THE WILD BUNCH when William Holden says "What I don’t know about, I sure as hell am gonna learn".

A baby however is more complicated than a machine gun, that’s for sure.

While we’re on the subject of babies … "well, one of us is" – ed … for the last couple of days I’ve had an overwhelming desire for baked beans on toast. I’m certain that I’m not pregnant; nevertheless the feeling has been growing stronger and stronger.

Having travelled the World, qt least, the Northern hemisphere part of it, I can say without fear of contradiction that no-one, no-one at all anywhere in the World that I have visited, makes baked beans like the Brits. Not even the “British recipe” ones in Maritime Canada.

When Liz and Terry were here last year or whenever it was they brought a tray of beans and I baked a loaf on Friday so at lunchtime I satiated my desire. Mind you, nice though as it was, I could sit down and eat it all over again.

This afternoon I transcribed the notes on the dictaphone. I was working for a hardware place last night. It was one of these places that had a really structured format – people entered at the bottom of their grades and slowly worked their way up their grades, all the way through and out to the top. There were several young guys who had started a while back who were near the bottom but I’d been watching their progress a little and was quite pleased that they seemed to be very apt and very capable, very willing to push hard and progress so I encouraged them. Then a girl joined. She seemed to think that she was entitled to everything because she had a superior education. She made a few comments to these people which I thought was poor but I let them pass. One day there was a question of someone having to stay overnight so we agreed that we’d all do it. Someone said that they’d have to bring their child in. They brought in their child and tucked it up. And when their part of the night finished we tucked them up in the bed with the child and carried on working. Towards the morning the child awoke – awoke with a start – and was so worried about where it was, it had school and it was panicking around so we tried our best to reassure it but it was panicking. Suddenly its portable alarm went off, which added to the confusion. But the girl whom I mentioned who was having a few things to say about the situation so I reminded her that we were all trying to do a very difficult job etc. I happened to mention these boys and said that she needn’t think that she was the only game in town because they were pushing on. They were quite capable too so she shouldn’t be surprised if one day she found herself cornered out by these guys. She replied “oh, you’ve noticed too, have you?” and mentioned one of them, how good he was when he’d had his medication, which was something of a dig but again I let it pass. I could see that this girl was going to need some extremely careful handling. If she’s not careful she’ll end up running this department, running my job, I’ll be nowhere. I wasn’t convinced that her personality was the correct personality to make any progress in this company, being so pushy and aggressive when these other people are being so smooth and calm.

And we’ve all worked with people like that, who come into a business and think that they can run it from Day One by upsetting everyone and everything

This female officer arrived at our unit – tall and thin, dark hair and with something to prove, so she thought, and was determined to make her mark on us but we were old sweats at this. We knew full well that it didn’t work like that but we were prepared to give her a little rope. It concerned some kind of little battle that was noisy and violent but didn’t last long. She was wondering why she hadn’t been invited to take part. We explained that it was all over so quickly that there wasn’t really time to go in for an organised formation. We just had to defend our position ad lib which we did. By the time that she arrived the firefight was over. So she carried on talking but let it go, but made it quite clear that she wanted to go on our next operation no matter what it was and where it was to so we made a note. The next night we were asked to go on an armed reconnaissance in force into the trenches as far as a small village a mile or so away where we had to pin everyone down, including the chief of the defending army while our Army somewhere else did something different. We worked out all of our plans and arranged that this woman would be called at the very last minute and be expected to travel in the state in which she appeared because she didn’t look the type. She looked the type who needed an hour’s preparation for a photograph. We were all preparing and were on the point of calling her when she suddenly appeared and wanted to know why she hadn’t been called. I replied that we hadn’t been mustered to set off yet, it was our sole preparation time and we were preparing. She wondered why she hadn’t been asked to prepare. I explained that at the last meeting that we’d had, she explained to us that she was always ready so we assumed that if she said that she was always ready then she was always ready and needed no preparation. She could step into the car at the very last minute and come with us. She was not satisfied with any of this explanation but we made sure that it was our version that was written on the combat reports so that Head Office could actually see it

And here we go again with a similar situation, people coming in and not having the patience to look around and see how the system works and how everything functions. After all, it was functioning quite well before they arrived.

Later on we had to go to Disney to meet those people from yesterday By the time everyone had finished walking on the beach and preparing, we were about an hour late at the meeting point. But we turned up all the same and had to fight our way down the queues. There was a sign that read “entry today 60p” so we prepared 60p but when we reached the machine it was 89p. We all thought that that was highly illegal so we fumed and moaned but sorted out some cash instead, paid and went in, picking up our free tickets and vouchers. The coffee came in huge, enormous mugs but it was freezing cold . I don’t know where they’d had this coffee stored. The food was typical “Tricatel” stuff slopped on your plates. It seemed that no-one in my group was worried about meeting these two other people from yesterday. It seemed that there was no sense of time or sense of urgency. All one guy was doing was busy changing the label he’d put round his baby daughter’s face mark so he wouldn’t hit him in the face. No-one seemed to care. I thought that this was a very strange way to be running any kind of business – someone should have found these people’s phone numbers and phoned them but it was nothing to do with me. I let the other people make the arrangements and it was easy to be totally fouled up and what was worse was that no-one seemed to be bothered about it.

And which “people from yesterday”? This journey sounds like a typical cock-up organised in just the way that anything would be organised within our family. The importance of rendez-vous is “who, when and where” expressed briefly and succinctly , not this total anarchic chaos that seems to pervade just about everything and hoping for the best, something that never ever happens.

There was the question of the publication of a children’s book which had been done to a certain type of formula prepared by another Society. Halfway through the proceedings the other society had withdrawn its permission. Now it was taking on a whole new meaning as there had to be a whole new redesign of the work that had been done. Somehow was involved in this but I had a feeling that things were not going correctly, that one of our employees for reasons best known to himself was dragging his heels with this and making life difficult so we tried to chivvy him along but it didn’t seem to work. It was causing all kinds of problems. The document checks weren’t working out very well, standard phrases had to be re-written etc. In the end I finished a pile of work, put it in a container and posted it in one of these aerial vacuum systems somewhere. It fed into the circuit just as someone went into there to reach for a document. The whole thing of my work fell onto his shoulder. I thought to myself “he won’t do that again in a hurry, will he? He’ll know what to expect the next time that he’ll try to fetch something from the vacuum system”.

And there’s always one of those in every organisation too, someone who slows down other people’s creative spirit because he never thought of the idea first so he doesn’t want it to work at any price.

But having complained the other day about the poor quality of recent dreams, last night made up for a lot of it. All I need now is Castor, Zero and TOTGA to come and cheer me up.

It might have been possible for them to come this afternoon because I was away with the fairies yet again for a couple of hours, but no such luck.

But that’s what’s depressing me – this continual crashing out during the day. Rosemary thinks that I’ll feel much better once the dialysis begins. Quite frankly, I couldn’t feel much worse.

There was time to complete another radio programme before tea tonight. I edited some text that I’d dictated last night before going to bed, and then assembled a programme completely.

Grahame says that he’s surprised that I’m still bashing out the radio programmes, and so am I. There’s bound to be a point where my eyesight will fail completely or else I’ll be spending too much time asleep, but we’re not quite there yet.

Tea was of course a vegan pizza. I’d taken a lump of dough out of the freezer after lunch and when it had thawed I rolled it out and assembled it.

On that note I’ll clear off and go for an early night. But before I go I’ll leave you with another one of my heroes.

Not the Irish politician Sir Boyle Roche this time, but the baseball coach Laurence Peter “Yogi” Berra
When asked how he wanted his pizza sliced, whether in 6 slices or 8 slices, he replied
"You better slice it in six. I don’t think that I could manage eight slices."

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Wednesday 22nd May 2024 – I HAVE GONE …

… would you believe, for a whole day without falling asleep even once. And when was the last time that that happened?

It has to be said that I did waver for about 10 minutes round about 17:45 but Rosemary sending me a few text messages soon snapped me out of it.

The interesting thing will be to see how I manage tomorrow. Is this just a flash in the pan? Or is it a renaissance? My money is of course on the former because as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, nothing is so bad that it cannot deteriorate any further, but you never know.

That was the last thing that I was imagining when I finally crawled into bed last night, later than I would have liked it to be but earlier than some just recently.

It was another turbulent night too. I don’t think that I had all that much sleep. But I was definitely asleep when the alarm went off. No phantom alarms during the night – at least, not that I recall.

There was the usual morning routine with the nurse helping me put on my new slippers, and then I had a leisurely few hours while I slowly came round into the Land of the Living.

After my coffee and fruit bun I had things to do. I’m going for a check-up in Paris on 10th June and I needed a bon de transport – a transport voucher – as my journey is more than 150 km

You’ve no idea how many times and how many different numbers I had to dial in order to find the Secretariat of the doctor. In the end I managed to contact them and they’ll send me one.

Next step was the taxi company to book the car to take me. As the journey is over 150 kms I need “prior authorisation” from the Social Security. No problem there because it seems that the doctor has asked for – and been given – “prior authorisation” for 15 trips. And so I invited the receptionist out to hit the high spots with me one night.

Next task was to transcribe the dictaphone notes. There were six of us living in a house all together. We had a few things to do, one of which was to play in some kind of cup final. The following day the film that had been taken of the match was shown to us. We could see the penalty shootout at the end where we’d scored penalties. They wanted us to do this again and then go to see a famous footballer to talk to him about the match. This meant leaving the bed and dressing. Someone had brought everything into the room for us to make our own sandwiches to eat on the trip. I was going to make a sort of burger, I suppose, with a burger and crudities on top but while I was cutting the cabbage or cauliflower or something like that, the cabbage or cauliflower fell onto the floor. No-one knew where it was. I couldn’t see it. In the end after several minutes someone pointed it out to me. By this time my quilt had fallen off the bed and had landed on top of it. I thought to myself that I would never ever have this sandwich like this. In the end I abandoned the attempt for the moment and chose other crudités to go on the pile. Then we slowly began to set off. I had the preferential place on the transport but I couldn’t think why because my goal to me was no more different than anyone else’s goal during this match

Later on I had a similar type of dream. A girl I knew in Brussels was there with me. We ended up driving to some kind of city and we were discussing a few things that had taken place over the last couple of days. I jokingly said to her “if you aren’t very careful I’ll be offering you a job”. Her eyes lit up at that and she wanted to know more about what I meant. Of course I meant it in fun but for some reason or other I felt like sharing my life with someone and she was there. We had a chat. It turned out that she wasn’t really all that interested. She asked what was involved so I talked about my future plans for next holiday, which was to go on a driving tour of places in Italy. She didn’t fancy that. She wanted to go to Borth in mid-Wales. I asked why and she replied that it’s handy for the airport if she wants to go somewhere else. I made a joke about “was it you, that person on the bicycle”? There had been some talk about a person on a bicycle. She was rather offended by that. She reminded me of a holiday that she’d done on a motor cycle previously. I explained that a motor cycle is far easier than going on a bike in any case. The discussion continued as we climbed into my car, the red Cortina. There was a guy loitering around. He had a really strange beard. I asked him if he wanted a lift. He replied “yes” but didn’t climb into the car as if he was waiting for someone else. I pulled forward out of the parking spot but he just shook his head then and walked away so I drove off and continued my discussion with the girl.

She was a strange girl too. Assistant to the Editor of the Brussels edition of “Time” magazine, she did have a short fuse if you touched one of her sacred cows. And she came to stay with me – for 12 months too – in 2003 while her apartment was rented out when she was short of money. And I never saw her again after she left

And so that dream continued. We walked mile after mile after mile all the way through South Cheshire, through Crewe. I was there with my youngest sister, leading her on trying to encourage her but with her little legs, it must have been a nightmare this trip. We just kept on going. Nothing distracted us all the way up Edleston Road past all of these cheap shops selling sweets and things, through a kind of market hall at the top and out onto Nantwich Road. We carried on walking towards Nantwich for whatever reason – I had no idea at all. Poor little sister. She must have been in hell trying to walk this journey with us with her small legs.

Why I said “so that dream continued” I have no idea. There’s probably something missing somewhere that I didn’t record and that’s a shame, especially if it includes Zero, Castor or TOTGA. They didn’t make it last night but it’s nice to see a couple of other people whom I know.

While the cleaner was here I finished off the radio notes for the programme on which I’ve been working, and I made a start on choosing the music for the next one. We have to push on.

Tea tonight was another delicious leftover curry with naan bread. That’s the last of the naan bread dough so I’ll have to make some more on Sunday along with the pizza dough and the biscuits. I’m running short of those.

But that’s for Sunday. Now I’m off to bed.

But the gist of Rosemary’s discussion was the UK General Election which will take place on 4th July and which will figure in these pages in fuller detail over the next few weeks when a whole variety of MPs will be preparing to head for the hills with their ill-gotten gains from the Covid scandal.

But that’s nothing to laugh at. A Chinese guy was taunting me about the state of the UK. I told him "at least the UK can change its Government every five years. When was the last time you had an election?"
"Just before blekfast" he retorted.

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