… not feeling myself today, which is just as well because it’s a disgusting habit.

But what I mean is that although there was an improvement this morning in how I was feeling after yesterday evening, the improvement didn’t last long and now I’m back to where I was.

One was of dealing with how things were yesterday was to try to dash through my notes and hope for an early night, but if only I had been able to manage it. As usual, having dillied and dallied and been side-tracked all the way, it was just as late as usual when I finally managed to fall into bed.

And what a nice bed it was too! Lovely brand-new sheets, quilt cover and pillow cases. I felt really in my element in there, and although it took a few minutes to fall asleep, I enjoyed every minute that it took.

Something else that I noticed was that when I went to turn over, I had the force to move my right leg without having to heave it over with my hand. It’s been an absolute age since I’ve been able to get my leg over without having to use my hand. I hope that it’s a good sign for the future.

It was another morning when I was awoken by the sound of the alarm. I’d slept right through until 06:29, and that can only be good news. Mind you, it was not 06:29 when I finally crawled out from under the covers, but that’s quite another story.

After a good wash, shave and scrub up in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon, and then went for the medication. It was rather a slow start in the dining area, and I was later back in here than I intended.

Once I’d settled down on my chair, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out if I’d been anywhere during the night. Surprisingly, I had, but I can’t remember anything about it. I was dreaming about Cheshire’s ace master-spy, a woman called Sue who was a dancer and was used frequently to infiltrate into the hearts and minds of the Germans of the people who were leading the French Revolution who had landed in Britain in an attempt to overwhelm it. According to one of the words that was sung, she saved England from subjugation, or saved Cheshire from subjugation. One of the dancers with her had a job controlling the movement of German Reparation officers. This led to quite a lot of conflict between the two.

This would seem to relate to the book that I read during the odd moments when I’m waiting around for the taxi to take me to dialysis – THE SECRET HISTORY OF MI6. There is plenty of talk about spies and secret agents in there, although not so much about the dirty tricks that they performed.

The nurse came round as usual and he was still in this typical good mood that has persisted since he came back from holiday. I can see myself wishing that he would go away more often.

After he left, I made my usual breakfast and, once more, had a very leisurely time over it. I just can’t seem to motivate myself at the moment and I don’t know why.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then I spent the rest of the morning researching some stuff for the radio programme that I’m preparing. This is another thing that’s taking far longer than it ought.

My faithful cleaner turned up as usual to apply my anaesthetic, and then I had to await the taxi. He was early today but it counted for nothing, because with all of the roadworks that are covering the area at the moment, there were all kinds of diversions and hold-ups.

Today at dialysis, I persuaded them to increase the amount of extraction. We ended up with 700 grammes extra taken out, which is more like what I am hoping to see. It’s just as well, because even though it’s been three days since I’ve been dialysed, there was just officially 1500 grammes to remove.

There’s definitely something wrong with me just now with regard to my fluid and food intake. Over a three-day period, there’s usually twice that and more, so I’m glad that I managed to persuade them to extract 2200 grammes, to help me catch up with this new dry weight that they seem to be ignoring. But there’s still plenty more room to manoeuvre.

While I was being dialysed, one of the nurses came for a chat. They are all lovely and I love them all but the one who came to see me, if it had to pick one, would be my favourite, although that’s hardly fair on all the others.

She wanted to have a discussion about my implant, which is extremely difficult seeing that I don’t want to know about it, so it was rather a stilted conversation. We ended up talking about all kinds of other things, which was nice.

For a change, I didn’t have to wait all that long to be unplugged, and I was home at something of a more-reasonable time. I seemed to need less effort than usual to force myself over the hump that protects the building from rainwater running off the road, but that’s probably my imagination working overtime.

By now though, I was feeling the effects of everything and after my cleaner left, I crashed out on the chair for half an hour.

Tea was the left-over pasta from Tuesday, accompanied by a vegan burger, and now, feeling thoroughly lousy, I’m off to bed. I have the Centre de Réeducation tomorrow and I’m definitely not feeling at all like it.

So before I go to bed, seeing as we have been talking about the nurse, his holiday and my sentiments … "well, one of us has" – ed … regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I have vowed never to criticise anyone for their attempts to speak another language.
However, there are some occasions that are too good to miss.
In Brussels, all of the shops are doing their best to prepare adverts and publicity in English in order to woo the officials of the European Union and entice them into their establishments.
And so in a window of a Travel Agent’s in Jette where I used to live, was this lovely big sign that read, in huge bold characters, "WHY DON’T YOU GO AWAY?"