Tag Archives: stuffed peppers

Monday 9th December 2024 – THIS TOWN IS …

… slowly waking up to face the destruction that took place during the weekend. Winds gusting up to 160 kph, with an average 24-hour speed of 102 kph, have caused devastation and in a lovely, ironic turn of phrase, the local newspaper reports that "le chantier de la place de Gaulle ressemblait à un lendemain de carnaval. " – “the construction site in the Place de Gaulle looks like the day after the Carnival”

Apart from signs blown down onto cars, flower pots, slates and aerials everywhere and 16,000 houses that at one moment or another with their electricity cut off, there was the roof of a garden shed making a bid for freedom along one of the streets up here on the Pointe du Roc and we nearly collided with it on the way to dialysis.

Trains won’t be running for a few days as there are trees down everywhere and all kinds of damage to the railway installations.

"Malgré tout, " the local newspaper continues "d’intrépides randonneurs et joggers arpentaient le bord de mer dimanche matin, au risque de se faire heurter par un objet volant pas toujours identifié" – “despite everything, some brave walkers and joggers went to the edge of the sea for a look around on Sunday morning, risking being hit by ‘an unidentified flying object'”

By the time that I went to bed last night, late again as usual, the wind had died down somewhat. There was still quite a bit of noise but it didn’t bother me one bit. Once I was curled up, head and all, underneath the quilt, I didn’t feel a thing. It was totally painless.

When the alarm went off I was still miles away from everything and it was quite a haul to drag myself out of bed before the next alarm. But once I was up, I staggered off to the bathroom to make myself ready for the day.

Leaving the bathroom I went into the kitchen for my drink and medication, remembering not to take the medication that I’m not supposed to take on Dialysis Day.

As an aside, I can take my medication prior to the arrival of the nurse because all blood tests these days are done at the Dialysis Clinic and it doesn’t seem to matter a jot whether I have or haven’t eaten.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night, and to my disappointment the dictaphone was blank. That’s really sad because, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the only excitement that I have these days is whatever goes on during the night.

When Isabelle the Nurse came we had a good chat about the storm and the damage. But she’s going off now for her week of rest to wrap Christmas presents. I don’t think that I have any to wrap.

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

Weld is now firmly esconced with the First-Nation peoples and his remarks à propos the American settlers of European descent are becoming more and more warm. I should perhaps mention that “Native American” is the term preferred by those people who were happily settled in what is today the USA before the arrival of the white man. In Canada, the preferred term is “First-Nation”. And when I mention “European”, what I imply by that term is for people whose ethnic origin is predominantly European, even if some of their ancestors might have been on the shores of Massachusetts to greet the arrival of the Mayflower.

Anyway, Weld holds no punches back in his discussion of the American settlers of European descent . "A large portion of the back settlers, living upon the Indian frontiers, are, according to the best of my information, far greater savages than the Indians themselves. It is nothing uncommon, I’am told, to see hung up in their chimney corners, or nailed against the door of their habitations, similarly to the ears or brush of a fox, the scalps which they have themselves tom from the heads of the Indians whom they have shot; and in numberless publications in the United States, I have read accounts, of-their having flayed the Indians, and employed -their skins as they would have done those of a wild beast, for whatever purpose they could be applied to. An Indian is considered by them as nothing; better than a destructive ravenous wild beast, without reason, without a soul, that ought to be hunted down like a wolf wherever it makes its appearance,; and indeed, even amongst the bettermost sort of the inhabitants of the western country, the most illiberal notions are entertained respecting these unfortunate people, and arguments for their banishment, or rather extirpation, are adopted, equally contrary to justice and to humanity."

He goes on to say "O Americans ! shall we praise your justice and your love of liberty… ? Shall we commend your moderation, when we see ye eager to gain fresh possessions, whilst ye have yet millions of acres within your own territories unoccupied ? Shall we reverence your regard for the rights of human nature, when we see ye bent upon banishing the poor Indian from the land where rest the bones of his ancestors, to him more precious than your cold hearts can imagine; and when we see ye tyrannizing over the hapless African, because nature has stamped upon him a complexion different from your own?"

It’s probably just as well that he didn’t live to see such atrocities as Sand Creek and Wounded Knee, never mind the current treatment of the ethnic minorities in the USA.

Back in here I had things to do and then I did some of my Welsh homework. And I can’t believe how much I’ve forgotten from what I learned last Tuesday. I really wish that someone could do something about my teflon brain.

My cleaner came along as usual to fit my anaesthetic patches and then I had to wait an age for the taxi to arrive. Once more, we were three passengers, all going to different places in South-West Manche, and I had a nice little chat with the little old lady sitting with me in the back.

At the Dialysis Clinic I was last to arrive so I was last to be wired in, and for a change none of it hurt. That was a surprise. However, once the effect of the anaesthetic wore off, then I knew all about it.

While I was there, I read my Welsh and then started to read THE BOOK ON THIS FRENCH SERIAL KILLER.

It’s quite well-written, and draws on a lot of the evidence that was introduced at his trial. And it includes a lovely phrase that I shall remember and use at every possible opportunity – il a une araignée au plafond – “he has a spider on the ceiling”, meaning someone who doesn’t have both paddles in the water.

The doctor came to see me today too – the one who has little interest in his profession. And we went through the same performance about the pain in my foot that we have had on several previous occasions.

While he was with me I asked about the arrangement for my trip to Paris, but he’d lost interest a long time before that point. He doesn’t listen to anything anyone tells him – he just answers what he thinks that he hears and then wanders off out of earshot before you can correct him.

Of course, being stuck in a bed with a series of pipes and tubes plugged in, you can’t run after him and slosh him one. If you could, I’d be making sure that he understood what I was trying to tell him by using Morse Code by the medium of a wooden mallet on his skull.

Last in, and last plugged in, means also that I am last out. And so it was. And then I had to wait for an age until the taxi came. It was 19.05 by the time that I returned home to my faithful cleaner.

Tea tonight was a delicious stuffed pepper with pasta and veg followed by ginger cake and soya dessert. And now I’m off to bed, ready to Fight The Good Fight in my Welsh class tomorrow.

But the reason why the doctor is in such a bad mood is because he’s still smarting over being fired from the fertility clinic.
One of his patients came in and asked him "have my test results come back, doctor?"
"They have indeed" he replied "and I have some good news for you, Madame DuPont"
"It’s Mamzelle DuPont actually, doctor" she said
"In that case, Mamzelle Dupont" he replied "I have some bad news for you."

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Monday 2nd December 2024 – I HAVE SEEN …

… my first “H” reg car today.

France isn’t like the UK – they simply issue all of the numbers consecutively until they run out, and then move on to the next letter and so on.

It’s about time that I saw one. They seem to have been stuck on GZ numbers for quite some considerable time, but this evening on the way home, parked in the Rue des Juifs there was an HA.

Interestingly, on the radio on the way home there was a talk about what the Press sees as the current financial crisis in France, with the cost of borrowing reaching 2.88% of GDP. That intrigued me because I don’t think that this amount is any big deal. Anyway I had a look, and found that the UK’s cost of borrowing is 4.4% of GDP – over half as much again.

In the USA it’s 2.86% – about the same as in France – and no-one is panicking over there. Interestingly, the USA’s borrowing is without anything even resembling the amount of social welfare that any other country pays out.

The record, by the way, according to the International Monetary Fund; is held by Ghana with 7.49%. In the Western World, it’s held by Iceland with 5.88%.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, I was late again going to bed but I didn’t care at all. And once in bed, although it took an age to go to sleep, I slept the Sleep of the Dead once more, all the way round to … errr … 06:20.

Whatever awoke me I really have no idea, but once awake I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I thought but I definitely had my head in the clouds at 07:00 when the alarm went off.

It took a while for me to gather my wits, which is a surprise seeing how few I have these days, and when the room stopped spinning round I alighted and headed to the bathroom.

After a good wash I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone but to my disappointment there was nothing on there. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the only excitement that I have these days is what goes on during the night.

The nurse came early yet again, which cheered me up because the quicker he comes, the quicker he goes. He’s on duty on Christmas Day, apparently, so I told him not to bother coming here that day. I’m going to have a lie-in.

Tomorrow, I’ll have to tell Isabelle the Nurse not to come on New Years Day either.

After he left I made breakfast and carried on reading ISAAC WELD’S BOOK, which I have now finished – at least, part I of it.

He’s absolutely sold on Canada by the way. He lists several really good reasons why one should leave the UK and go West. And while the USA is the preferred destination for so many at the end of the Eighteenth Century, and for so many good reasons too, he goes to great lengths to explain why each of these good reasons is even better in Canada.

He concludes with "From a due confideration of every one of the before mentioned circumflances, it appears evident to me, that there is no part of America fo fuitable to an Englifh or Irifh fettler as the vicinity of Montreal or Quebec in Canada,"

Tomorrow I’m going to start on part II as he travels back to Montréal on the CHEMIN DU ROY but in the opposite direction to that in which I travelled when I wrote my magnum opus.

After breakfast I came in here to finish off my Welsh homework. I had to write an essay on my favourite screen character so I chose James Bond.

If I were to ask people to name the first two Bonds they would inevitably say Sean Connery and Roger Moore. In fact Moore was the fourth. Second was David Niven in the first version of “CASINO ROYALE and third was George Lazenby in ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE.

Having finished my homework I started to prepare the next radio programme but was interrupted by the arrival of my faithful cleaner, come to fit my anaesthetic patches.

This new series of restrictions on the use of taxis is biting hard. We were three passengers in the taxi down to Avranches today. The other two came from somewhere miles out in the back country going home from a stay at the Centre Normandy and the car was driven by a driver who had no idea where anything at all was in Granville.

We were a crowded clinic today. Every bed was taken and once more I was last to be plugged in. The first pin went in my arm totally painlessly and I didn’t feel a thing. The second hurt like Hades and then they found that it wouldn’t work, so they had to fit a branching pipe to the first. They needn’t have fitted the second at all.

I spent the time studying my Welsh and downloading more literature that I’d been able to find. It turns out that Isaac Weld had a nephew, Charles Weld, who wrote extensively on the Arctic so I downloaded as much of it as I could find.

He also followed his uncle’s steps around Canada and the USA 50 years later and also wrote a book about his adventures. That too is a must-have as far as I’m concerned and it took a while to find a copy that I could download.

As I mentioned the other day, I can now access my LeClerc account from the Dialysis Clinic so I was busy reviewing the site and adding products onto my shopping list. Can you believe that my next LeClerc order will be the last one before Christmas? Hasn’t this year passed quickly?

While I’m at it, I’ll have to work out what other on-line shopping accounts I can access. The hospital’s firewall is quite restricting and using my ‘phone to access the internet isn’t always possible if I’m in the hospital too deep to access a wi-fi signal.

As well as all of that, I was being force-fed orange juice as my glucose level was so low.

My favourite taxi driver brought me home. She was strangely quiet which was a shame because I quite enjoy her running commentaries, especially when she’s annoyed.

Once more, I strode out and climbed the stairs boldly. I’m a long, long way from being able to climb even one of them without dragging myself up by the handrail on the wall, but at least It’s quite a change from how it used to be.

Back in here I had a little rest and then I made tea – a stuffed pepper with pasta. It was quite delicious too. It was followed by chocolate cake and lemon soya dessert.

That’s the last of the lemon soya, and tomorrow will see the last of the chocolate cake that has done me so well over the last couple of weeks. The ginger cake is cut into slices and is in the fridge ready for the next set of desserts

So now I’m off to bed ready for my Welsh class tomorrow.

Talking of James Bond, I once met Sir Roger Moore and I had a chat to him about the character that he played
"That’s right" he said. "They called me ‘Basildon Bond’"
"Why was that?" I asked, rather naively
"Well," he replied. "Since I’ve been knighted by the Queen I have letters after my name."

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Monday 25th November 2024 – I AM STILL IN …

… agony after the session at the Dialysis Clinic this afternoon.

Once more, they could only fit one pin into the tube in my arm, once more it hurt like absolute Hades, and once more they had to come running to the machine every five minutes when it let out its little plaintive wail.

So what am I going to do? I don’t know. I have no idea what the alternatives are. The visiting nurse who is on duty as of tomorrow formerly worked in a Dialysis Clinic, but I suspect that I’ll be wasting my time asking him. Every time I ask him a question, he replies with a completely different answer.

But the agony is now going beyond a joke. It can’t really, surely, be as painful as this? No-one else seems to have the slightest problem

By the looks of things, everything seems to be a problem these days. Like going to bed, for example. Last night I couldn’t even be in bed for midnight, there was that much going on that needed doing and finishing.

So when I finally crawled into bed I didn’t have much time to sleep but, believe me, I was out like a light once I was in bed, and there I stayed until the alarm went off.

When I awoke, it was with a mighty crash – one of THOSE awakenings where the whole World seems to stop. Except of course that it was still spinning round and I had to wait, poised, on the side of my bed until it stopped spinning and I could stand up.

In the bathroom I had a wash, a shave and washed my undies. I need to do what I can to keep clean as much as I possibly can.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was a quiet, shy girl who worked in an office somewhere. She used our vehicles every now and again for hospital runs. Sometimes I’d take her, and I’d quite enjoyed taking her too. I came to quite like her. I was hoping that she might quite like me as well but nothing ever came of it for a while which was quite sad. One day I had to take her to the hospital but for some reason we decided to walk there. She came out of her office, and she told me about some of the things that she’d been doing over the last couple of weeks as we set off. I knew the short-cut through the hills so we walked through the hills. She began to tell me a few more interesting things. We climbed over this steep bit of hill. There were two types like this that we climbed over. We found ourselves in a little valley. As we walked along this small valley we saw a sign that said “exhibition of the factory that made Churchill’s beds. I made some kind of witty remark about that and carried on walking. I put my hand down and found her hand, and began to hold it. She didn’t take her hand away, just left it there for me to hold and we walked off hand-in-hand like that

So i Got The Girl last night, and no-one from my family came along to spike my guns or put le baton dans le roue as they say around here. That’s not something that happens every day, is it? And a guided tour of the factory that made Churchill’s beds? That sounds exciting and is obviously a trip not to be missed. But that range of hills – it’s the one that we’ve walked – and skied – over on many occasions in the past and keeps on reoccurring. I’ve no idea where it is, although you would think that I would know by now.

There was also something else, that I haven’t dictated but that I have a very strong memory of it happening during the night, of going into a newspaper office and placing an advert to sell the van. I can even remember describing it in great detail. I’ve no idea though why there’s nothing like this on the dictaphone. It makes me wonder what else I’ve missed in the past. Nothing involving Castor, TOTGA or Zero, I hope.

The nurse came and told me some more about the demolition of the War Memorial. It seems that following a poll where the town was something like 90% against the mayor’s plan to remove it, the mayor is going to move it anyway. My nurse expressed herself in such extremely unparliamentary language that had someone from the General Medical Council heard her, she would have been struck off.

After she left, I made breakfast and carried on reading MY BOOK

Our author, Isaac Weld, is remarkably prescient. You have to remember that he is writing in the 1790s, and makes some predictions that are astonishingly accurate.

"at a future day, if the affairs of the United States go on as profperouHy as they have done, it will become the grand emporium of the weft, and rival in magnitude and fplendor the cities of the old world."

And talking of the removal of Congress from Philadelphia to Washington he predicts "a large majority, however, of the people in the United States is defirous that the removal of the feat of government mould take place and there is little doubt but it will take place at the appointed time. The difcontents indeed, which an oppolite meafure would give rife to in the fouth could not but be alarming and if they did not occafion a total feparation of the fouthern from the northern ftates, yet they would certainly materially deftroy that harmony which has hitherto exifted between them."

He also talks about "the prefident’s houfe, which is nearly completed on the outride, is two ftories high, and built of free ftone. The principal room in it is of an oval form", something that will ring a bell with many people today.

He saves most of his vitriol for Washington himself when he visits Washington’s house and the first things that he sees are the "SLAVE" (his capitals, not mine) cabins.

He says, on the subject of Washington’s slaves, "Happy would it have been, if the man who flood forth the champion of a nation contending for its freedom, and whofe declaration to the whole world was, ” That all men were created equal, and that they were endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, amongft the firft of which were life, liberty, and the purfuit of happinefs;” happy would it have been, if this man could have been the firft to wave all interelted views, to liberate his own flaves, and thus convince the people he had fought for, that it was their duty, when they had eftablifhed their own independence, to give freedom to thofe whom they had themfelves held in bondage !"

No more needs to be said.

Back in here I had things to do, such as my Welsh homework, and then I carried on with editing the radio programme notes. However the Welsh homework had taken me much longer than it ought to have done so there wasn’t much time for the radio

My cleaner turned up bang on time and fitted my anaesthetic patches and then helped me tidy up the mess from yesterday. We kept all of the packaging because it will all come in useful in the future

The taxi was early because we had to go to pick up someone else – this sharing of taxis now is proving to be inconvenient but who am I to complain?

And then we had the pantomime of fitting the plug in my arm. And how painful was that? Nothing that they tried to do seemed to make any difference until after about an hour, they finally found a position in which the machine was comfortable. Then they taped the plug and pipes to my arm with so much tape that it was ridiculous

Even before I’d arrived, I’d made up my mind to speak to the doctor about the situation.

There’s a team of four doctors whom I’ve identified so far and as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … there’s one of them who gives the impression that he really doesn’t want to be there. So guess who was on duty today.

He is really disinterested in his job and has no interpersonal skills at all. So I told him about the situation and his immediate response was to tell the nurse to bring me a Doliprane – a notion that I immediately shot down.

No, a painkiller is no good for me. I want the situation resolved. In the end he agreed to arrange a scan of my implant to see what the problem might be. “But it won’t be today”.

While we’re on the subject of scans … "well, one of us is" – ed … I asked him what was the plan about the scan that I’d had the other day.

“Nothing” was the answer. “We’ll see how it goes because things like this usually disappear after a couple of weeks or months”.

“Seeing as I’ve been suffering like this for over a year” I said, “I promise you it won’t go away ‘in a couple of weeks’ ”

That rather deflated his ego and he beat a hasty retreat.

They eventually unplugged me, hours later than it ought to have been and the poor taxi driver had to wait quite a while.

Luckily it was one of the friendly ones and we had a good chat all the way back to Granville.

My cleaner was waiting and watched as I climbed all the stairs on my own up to my room

Tea tonight was a stuffed pepper with plenty of stuffing left over for a curry on Wednesday. Tomorrow I’ll use the last of the refried beans.

But wasn’t it a lovely change to go to the freezer and open the drawers without a fight? I hope that the drawers last without breaking again until I can move downstairs and have a decent fridge-freezer.

But right now I’m off to bed, not before time too. It’s my Welsh class tomorrow and I want to be on top form.

But one of the nurses told me about a footballer who was admitted to the emergency department on Saturday with a dislocated knee.
He screamed “Blue Murder” when the physiotherapist went to put it back in place.
“"Don’t be a baby" urged the nurse. "There’s a woman in Maternity who has just given birth to triplets and she’s made far less noise than that"
"You go and try to put them back in" said the footballer "and see what noise she makes then!"

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Monday 18th November 2024 – YET MORE FUN …

… at the Dialysis Clinic this afternoon.

But at least we managed a full session of three and a half hour. And even more interestingly, of the weight that I lost during Saturday’s session, I’d only put a little back on. And that’s the best news that I’ve had for quite some time too.

Not such good news was my late night last night. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I’ve now given up the idea of trying to be in bed early. Rushing around like a madman and still failing dismally is just stressing me out for no good purpose.

They have told me before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … that it’s only because of my heart being so good that I’ve kept going for so long. It’s pumping the blood around at twice the normal rate and has been doing so since 2015 and many hearts would have given out long before this.

They’ve also told me that because of the general state of my health a transplant is out of the question – I would never survive it – so I have to keep going with the one that I have. And so I have to do all in my power to avoid stress. And that includes worrying about problems that I can’t resolve.

So with not worrying about going to bed early, it was late when I finally crawled into bed. And there I stayed until 07:00 when the alarm went off.

There was a moment at 04:20 when something awoke me. However, after checking the time on the watch I simply turned over and went back to sleep

It took a few minutes for me to come round into the Land of the Living this morning and I almost ended up falling asleep again. However I dragged myself out of bed quickly enough and went for clean clothes and a trip to the bathroom

This morning I had a good wash and even a shave, washed my clothes and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone. And to my surprise, and also to my disappointment, there was nothing there.

That IS a big disappointment. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the only excitement that I ever have is when I’m in bed asleep – although if the shenanigans at the Dialysis Clinic keep on going, all of that might change.

The nurse had his usual discussion of asking me how my pizza went and what did I do yesterday – the same conversation we have every Monday when he’s on duty. I’m glad that he came early and left quickly.

That meant that I could continue with other things, like making breakfast and reading my book

And poor Samuel Hearne is in the wars again.

His group comes across a lone First Nation woman from another tribe who had been abducted by others but she managed to escape after they beat her baby to death

However things go from bad to worse as she’s now prisoner of Hearne’s guides and they have a wrestling tournament to decide who will claim her as his own. The leader of his band decides that he will participate, one of his wives tells him that he already has more than enough wives to look after so that there isn’t room for another one, and so he beats the wife to death right in front of Hearne

Hearne writes the story in such a matter-of-fact way but I’m sure that he was deeply affected by it.

Or maybe, because he has seen such horror and hardship so far on his voyage, what’s one more? He must be totally resigned to the events that unfold, there’s nothing that he can do, and he just wants to return to the fort at any price.

Back in here I had my Welsh homework to do and to my surprise and regret, instead of taking just half an hour to do it, I was still working on finishing it when my cleaner turned up to fit my anaesthetic patches.

The taxi was late coming for me – the driver had brought someone back from Rennes – but it’s a driver whom I like and we had a good chat on our way down to Avranches.

Consequently I was the last in at the Clinic today, and the last to be seen by the nurses. We were already running way late and my anaesthetic was running out but first before they coupled me up they had some tests to perform on my legs.

Therefore when they came to couple me up the anaesthetic had worn off and everyone in the building and a few people outside too knew that I was being plugged in.

One of the plugs failed to work too and after several tries, they disconnected it and ran everything through the one plug, so I had a throbbing pain in my arm all through the session.

They carried on with several examinations of my legs and feet, and I was also seen by the doctor in charge. I asked him about the scan and he confirmed the disc issue. I asked him what was the plan for the future and he told me "we’ll wait to see how it develops."

Well, I can tell him that without waiting any longer for any more evidence.

While I was being seen to I was fighting off wave after wave of sleep thanks to being force-fed with orange juice to keep my blood sugar up. I was also revising my Welsh and then seeing how Jacques Cartier was getting on.

He and some (but not all) of his men have survived the winter, although with great difficulty. But disappointingly he doesn’t go into a great deal of detail about it. But as he’s about to return home the following Spring, he kidnaps the King, Donnacona, and some of his elite companions.

Cartier promises to bring them back but of course they all have the temerity to die in France so on his third voyage he is met with an icy reception.

His narrative comes to an abrupt end once he’s built the fort in which he and his group intend to stay – I suspect that he handed to his superior, the Sieur de Roberval, the subsequent part relating to the settlement when he arrived later – and it’s not been seen since. But returning sailors have painted a gloomy picture of confrontation with the First-Nations peoples until the French finally admitted defeat and abandoned the St Lawrence River for the moment.

But not without having sown the seeds of a brutal war that lasted until almost the dawn of the 19th Century, during which thousands of colonists and First-Nation people were killed.

When my machine finished they had further tests to perform on my legs before they unplugged me and compressed my arm to close the holes. Consequently I was very late leaving.

It was another young taxi driver who brought me home, another one of the chatty ones. He’s thinking of emigrating to Québec so he was asking me loads of questions about life out there. Québec was one of the places that I had in my mind to go to settle and I’d made enquiries once during one of my visits there. But ill-health wiped out every ambition in that respect.

Despite the driving rain and gale-force winds my faithful cleaner was at her post, and she noted how well I managed to climb the twenty-five steps up to here. She thinks that every day I’m showing an improvement. And how I wish that it were so. I’m not so optimistic.

Tea tonight was a stuffed pepper with pasta and veg followed by chocolate cake and strawberry soya dessert. Very delicious.

It’s bedtime now so I’ll be clearing off in a minute. It’s Welsh lesson tomorrow so I have homework to send off and the radio programme to send off too

But there was an interesting story about Cartier and one of his native guides off walking to Hochelaga when suddenly a party of angry Iroquois rise up in front of them
They turn to go back but there’s a party of Iroquois there too.
So they turn to the left – and there’s a party of Iroquois there
So they turn to the right – and there’s a party of Iroquois there too
"Well, Taignoagny" said Cartier to his guide "it looks as if we are surrounded"
His guide turned to him and replied "what do you mean ‘we’, paleface?"

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Monday 11th November 2024 – THIS BLASTED DIALYSIS …

… thing isn’t becoming any easier. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.

Four of us arrived at the clinic together today. I was the first to be coupled up and, as you might expect, the last to be uncoupled. There I was, hoping for a quick getaway today but it didn’t quite work out like that.

Going to bed at a reasonable time is something else that isn’t working out either. Once again, it was well after 23:00 when I finally crawled into bed . At least I had a decent sleep though because I slept right through to when the alarm went off, with no pain at all.

When the alarm went off I was busy in an adventure. There was a bank robbery or something like that planned, a huge, elaborate way of doing it too and a lot of people had a lot of little parts in this. Where I joined in was where the local bus driver who had been asked to do something suddenly realised what he was being asked to do and declined to do it, right on the very day. One of the girls went onto his bus and with a fluttering of eyelids and so on asked “you will do just this one little task for us, won’t you?” which was to throw a mine through the open window of an apartment. In the end he agreed to do it, so she gave him this little mine. It was a false mine, but the purpose was for the people inside to flee their apartment and leave the door open. She gave him the mine and I went with him. He asked a lot of questions about the mine, how far is the tailback etc. My issue was how were they going to throw this through the window of an apartment on the thirteenth floor. I imagined that they’d already worked this out. There must be a balcony or something. We talked about the mine and set off in the bus. I thought to myself that when someone writes the story of this bank heist it’s going to make one of the most exciting adventure novels I could ever imagine

That was something that I wished would have carried on because it was certainly exciting enough. And as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the only excitement that I seem to have is what happens during the night.

Mind you, that’s not true at all. I’ve received an e-mail to day saying that someone has taken control of my computer, has videos of me watching filthy movies and what I was doing while watching them, and will send them to all of my contacts unless I buy Bitcoins to a value of $1410 and send them to a Bitcoin wallet. So in about 45 hours we’ll see whether he can walk the walk as well as he can talk the talk. This should be very interesting. I hope that you will be waiting with bated breath.

Meantime, back at the ran … errr … apartment I staggered off into the bathroom for a good wash and shave, and then came back in here to listen to the dictaphone. Did I dictate the dream where a bunch of four kids was responsible for destroying a house? … "no you didn’t" – ed … They had a water leak in the washroom of where they were staying so they began to explore to try to find it and fix it. Of course, everything that they did led on to further problems then on to further problems and further problems. They ended up destroying a house. The girl and her two younger sisters took to the road and found another boarding house in which to stay by pretending that their parents would be joining them later. The same thing happened with this one – they totally destroyed it. When I arrived on the scene the girls had left but had somehow managed to go into Space where they had landed on the Space Station and were busy pulling that to pieces looking for a leak too. There was another false alarm at 07:00. It didn’t awaken me but I heard the alarm go. I knew that it was a false one so I took no notice but I was in London, part of the street crew who had been defeated by London University. I was in Fulham and I can’t really remember what was happening but I was a guest there and helped them with a few events, the Fulham University, but we didn’t make any progress at all.

Funnily enough, I can’t remember this false alarm going off this morning. As for kids destroying a house, that’s not a problem at all for modern kids. They seem to be much more destructive than we ever were.

Later on I’d been to see the doctor. I’d given him all the details of my illness and a few other problems. When I’d finished, he looked at me and said “yes I’ll have to write a prescription for you”. Then he took from the inside pocket of his jacket, not his prescription pad but a rough notebook and proceeded to write in there. I had to tell him three times about his prescription. It was only after the third time that he happened to look at what he was doing and realised that he had the wrong pad and had to start again.

That’s something that I seem to have on my mind right now – this story about prescriptions. It seems to be a big issue right now. But if people want to pay less tax, then there’s going to be less money available for Social Services. Here in France we still have something that’s far, far better than any other country in Europe.

Isabelle the nurse blitzed in and out today. She didn’t want to hang around too long. I don’t seem to be popular with too many other people right now. I wonder what I’ve done? Maybe this cyber-blackmailer has already been in contact with them, I dunno.

After she left I made breakfast and carried on with my book. Samuel Hearne has set out on his first trip into the Barren Grounds in his search for the Coppermine River, and recounts how his native guides robbed him and his companions of everything that they possessed and how they had to retreat to the fort on Hudson’s Bay. Times were tough in 1769

Back in here I had things to do, like my Welsh homework for a start, and then afterwards I still made no headway with this blasted timing for this radio programme.

In the end I’ve bit the bullet and begun to write a computer program. It’s been years since I’ve written a program and I’m surprised that I could still remember. I wrote my first program in 1975 using loads of If:Else and GoTo constraints but this needs to be more sophisticated than that.

It’ll probably take me longer to write the program than to do it by hand, but the program will be useful for another time

My cleaner surprised me in mid-calculation and I had to go to have my patches fitted. And the taxi was early – I was busy cutting up last night’s chocolate cake when the driver turned up.

For once just recently I was on my own and it was probably the quickest journey that I’d ever had. As a result I was early arriving and although I had to wait ten minutes while they cleaned up after the morning shift I was soon in the ward, with three other people coming in with me.

They coupled me up quickly enough and while it wasn’t actually painless, it was better than some times just recently.

However they noticed that my arm was starting to swell up as if they had missed their aim with the needles. They carried out a quick echograph to check and found that everything was perfect, and indeed the dialysis pump was showing a good circulation.

Consequently I spent most of the session with an alcohol compress on my arm to reduce the swelling. I still have one on now so I’ll be going to sleep with alcohol fumes all around me and I’ll have a huge bruise there in the morning

There was a couple of new people there today too so the doctor came to see them. He didn’t come to see me though to find out how things were and to tell me what was in my scan from Friday. I was rather disappointed by that.

At some point I had a little doze and while I was away with the fairies (but not doing anything about which the Editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine would comment or which would be of interest to my cyber-extortionist) I saw three bodies. One was a girl and one was a man and I don’t know the third, all wrapped in cloth, in the water. two were chained down under the water to some kind of attachment and had been there for a couple of years. The third, either the woman or man, was with them under water but a new arrival, not yet chained down

In this dream I was actually underneath them in the water and was looking up at them. It was weird.

Apart from that I read my Welsh, drunk loads of orange juice and then carried on with PRINCIPALL NAVIGATIONS

Hakluyt is now attacking the works of Jacques Cartier and his voyage of 1534. This is interesting because it refers to two comments that Cartier wrote in his journal. Firstly he says "in all my travels along this (Labrador and Newfoundland) coast, I have not seen even a bucketful of good soil"

That’s my impression too and much as I would have loved to move to Labrador, gardening would be ruled out for a start.

The second quote of Cartier is much more famous. Sailing up and down the Straight of Belle Isle between Labrador and Newfoundland, he describes it as "the Land that God must truly have given to Cain"

Despite finishing early, uncoupling me was something else completely. I had to wait until there were two nurses free because if one is compressing a patient, there must be another one ready in case of emergencies elsewhere in the Unit.

It took an age until they sorted me out, and they seemed to be more interested in my arm than anything else. The poor taxi driver had been waiting for a while and I bet that she was fed up. But once in the car we sped off to Granville.

My cleaner was waiting for me and watched along with another neighbour as I climbed all of the stairs unaided up to my little apartment

After I’d had a rest I put away the rest of the chocolate cake and then made tea – a stuffed pepper, which was really nice. There’s still some ginger cake left so I had some of that with pistachio-flavoured soya dessert.

Bedtime now, and I need to be ready for my Welsh lesson in the morning. I may well be late joining because there’s a meeting here in the morning

But seeing as we were talking about absent-minded doctors just now … "well, one of us was" – ed … it reminds me of that hospital in Belgium a while back
"Doctor" said a nurse "why are you writing your notes with an anal thermometer?"
So the doctor hands it to the nurse
"Will you go back into that patient’s room" said the doctor "and bring me back my biro?"

0

Monday 21st October 2024 – I’M STILL ACHING …

… just about everywhere that it’s possible to ache, and probably a few places where it isn’t possible either.

Mind you, I have to admit that I’m not aching quite as much as I was when I awoke this morning. I thought that a good night’s sleep might have helped everything ease off seeing as I was lying comfortably in bed, but it wasn’t to be.

A longer sleep might have been nice but once again, I missed by some considerable distance my target of being in bed by 23:00. It’s still taking longer than I would like to finish off what needs to be done, and there’s the added problem with the aches and pains that make me reluctant to move from my comfortable chair.

But once in bed I was soon asleep and I can’t recall any awakening until about 06:15. And even then, I turned over and went straight back to sleep again. When the alarm went off I was in a pub in London watching a pub band play. There were Keith Ginnell and his wife on keyboards. His wife had been a famous model in the past, Vicky somebody I think. On drums was Keef Hartley and the singer was Magic Michael. He was too tall for the stage and had to bend his head to fit under the ceiling while he was singing. he was singing that song “Giddy up, Bobby” and I was thinking how easy that was to play when I thought about it. Then I went to the bathroom where I overheard some kind of dispute going on between Keef Hartley and Keith Ginnell. I thought that it was a shame that they were arguing like that because they were a really good group.

What I didn’t dictate was that I was staying at that pub but had to clear out my room ready to leave. And in the WC I’d bolted the door behind me but nevertheless someone still came in and walked past me, and I wondered how they had managed to do that.

Now you are of course going to ask me who Keith Ginnell is and what the song “Giddy Up Bobby” is all about. And the answer to both questions is that I don’t have any idea at all. I know who Magic Michael is of course, and who doesn’t? He was one of the hangers-on with Hawkwind back in the early 70s and later on had a few singles out of his own, most of which sunk without trace. Keef Hartley was of course one of John Mayall’s drummers and later on had a group of his own, but Keith Ginnell and “Giddy Up Bobby” escape me completely.

What’s so surprising is that I could actually remember them.

While we’re on the subject of remembering … "well, one of us is" – ed … I didn’t forget someone’s birthday yesterday. Not at all. It goes without saying that I won’t ever forget it

So I staggered to my feet in a cloud of agony and slowly inched my way into the bathroom where I had a good scrub up and even a shave to make myself look pretty, even though it will take more than a scrub-up and a shave to make me look pretty.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And there was some stuff on there too. There had been a big riot somewhere. The soldiers were all hemmed in at some kind of barracks and had been completely overwhelmed. They decided that what they would so as a desperate kind of last stand for all those who were fit enough was to make some kind of fighting arrowhead and charge out of the building on their horses hoping to break through the enemy lines. So they charged out in this arrowhead and almost broke through but were held somewhere down at the bottom of Oak Street and Mill Street in Crewe. The fight raged round there for an hour or two when suddenly the enemy surrendered and gave up the fight. I’d been watching the events unfold and after the events went peacefully some kind of big American convertible, a huge car with a woman driver pulled up and said “taxi for Hall”. I climbed in and it took me off down Wistaston Road/Victoria Avenue. I was chatting to the woman – she’d been in London earlier in the day in the fog, just socialising. I told her that I’d been to Scotland and it really was foggy there. She was telling me how she did taxiing part-time, how she enjoyed it. She was working for Orange Cabs but she didn’t have a card with her number on for me so we carried on chatting like that and eventually she brought me home

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that we were AT THE SITE OF THE BATTLE OF LITTLE BIG HORN with LITTLE BIG ANTLERS a few years ago and the question that was going through my mind then was “why did Custer and his men dismount?”

On foot they would have no chance of escaping the native Americans, as events were to prove. Knowing that there was a detachment of soldiers with the baggage train in the vicinity, if they had formed a “fighting head” – a triangular-shaped formation, they stood a very good chance of piercing a surrounding line of enemy and the weight of their charge would have pushed at least some of them through the encirclement and on to safety at the far end of the ridge

But as for riots going on in Crewe, it’s extremely unlikely. The people there have long-since lost any free will and initiative.

The nurse came early and caught me off-guard this morning. He refrained from upsetting me, which was good, and now he’s gone off duty for a week which suits me fine. It gives me a chance to gather up my sang-froid ready for the next bout.

Still, the earlier he comes, the earlier he goes and I could crack on with breakfast.

Today, the Woolhope Naturalists are having a lecture on Space and Interplanetary rotation, sitting at a picnic around a waterfall. Some of their propositions have long-since been contradicted by later discoveries but it’s interesting all the same to hear the state of knowledge in 1867.

What’s also interesting is that the 48 members present had to go into the back of beyond to visit this waterfall, and not only did the railway company agree to stop the train at an isolated spot, it built a railway platform and had three gangers ready to help the party alight.

Just imagine that today! It would take them ten years to build the platform, even if they were so disposed to do so, and there would have to be all kinds of Health and Safety surveys and inspections first.

And this “Health and Safety Culture” – do you know what’s brought it on? It happened the day that Solicitors were allowed to advertise.

Back in the old days if you stumbled on a pavement and hurt your toe, you shrugged your shoulders and moved on. But once we began to see the "had an accident? It might not be your fault. Contact us for a free interview" advertisements, everything changed overnight.

The Naturalists were also visiting the famous church of Capel-y-ffin, a site that became notorious later on with the arrival of “Father Ignatius” and then the infamous Eric Gill, whose famous sculptures and type design did little to counter the later unsavoury allegations about his private life that were to occur once his biography was published after his death.

Having finished all that I came in here and finished off as far as I could (because some of it requires access to a television) and then carried on selecting music for the next radio programme.

My cleaner turned up to help me fit my anaesthetic patches and while she was here I gave her my orders for the supermarket tomorrow. And the taxi for the Dialysis Clinic was driven by a young guy and we had a very lively chat all the way down to Avranches.

At the clinic they didn’t hang about to plug me in. The first one hurt like hell but the second needle, I didn’t feel it at all.

The nurses asked if I had any pain anywhere so I mentioned the issues that I’m having. They gave me a Covid test and that was that. No doctor came anywhere near me to make further enquiries so I don’t see the point in asking.

As well as the doctor in charge, Emilie the Cute Consultant was there too and although she went to see a few other patients, she kept well away from me. Julie the Cook did likewise, so she must be a regular reader of this rubbish too.

I read my Welsh and spent some time reading, and I also had a little doze. While I was away with the fairies, being careful to avoid drawing the attention of the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine to my activities, I was on a train in Tunisia. A Tunisian woman in local dress came to sit next to me. I suddenly realised that I hadn’t validated my ticket so I stood up and went to look for a machine. There was none in my carriage and the next one was compartmentalised with the curtains drawn and what looked like discreet security guards. I turned to a guy in the vestibule of my carriage to ask him. He told me that you don’t validate it – the ticket inspector does as he or she passes – so I went to resume my seat. However it looked nothing like it did when I left and the Tunisian lady wasn’t there

There was a similar issue about TICKETS ON TRAINS when I was in Tunisia a few years ago, and I can well-believe the presence of Security Guards and curtained compartments on certain trains.

They unplugged me and threw me out into the torrential rain where my taxi was waiting, and we had to wait for the guy who lives in Sartilly. And he had already reserved the front seat

My driver was friendly enough but didn’t say too much and as we stopped outside the building, the rain stopped, the sun shone and we had a rainbow.

My cleaner watched me upstairs, and it was a retrograde number of steps today, no surprise with me feeling not too well. And I was glad to sit down and relax for an hour.

Tea was a lovely stuffed pepper with pasta followed by apple cake and soya cream and now I’m ready for bed.

But the subject of having pains everywhere reminds me of the guy who went to the doctor.
"Every time and everywhere I touch myself" he said "I’m in absolute agony."
And he proceeded to prod himself in his leg, his arm, his torso, his neck, his posterior, everywhere. And each time he winced in pain.
The doctor looked at him for a moment and then took him by surprise, prodding him in his ribs
"Did that hurt?" asked the doctor
"Well, actually doctor" said the man "no it didn’t. What does it mean? Am I dying? Do I have a serious problem?"
"Not at all" said the doctor. "All it means is that you have broken your finger."

0

Monday 14th October 2024 – AT THE DIALYSIS …

… Clinic this time, with one of the usual nurses on duty, things went so much better today and she managed to avoid drenching the room and everyone in it with my blood.

Mind you, there’s still a few hours before bedtime so plenty of time to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory yet. I’ve told my faithful cleaner to stand by.

So last night was another late night – although it could, and should, have been an early one by the time that I’d finished what I had to do. However, the next two radio programmes that I need to do are also going to be celebrating special occasions and will involve a lot of work, and so the quicker I start, the quicker I’ll finish.

Consequently I put on my researcher’s hat and set to work. The preparatory stuff led to quite some progress so even if I did have to burn the midnight oil, it wasn’t wasted. And I’ll have to become used to it because I reckon that that’s how it’s going to be for a week or two.

And isn’t that a change from two or three months ago?

Once I finally made it into bed I didn’t need much rocking and there I slept until about 05:30. It was another phantom alarm call but I recognised it as such and was back to sleep quite quickly though – it hardly disturbed my rhythm.

When the alarm went off at 07:00 I fell out of bed and hauled myself off to the bathroom for a good scrub up and to apply the deodorant. I didn’t bother with a shave because I don’t think that Emilie the Cute Consultant loves me any more

Having washed my undies I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night and see if Zero had come back. But no Zero last night. Instead, there was a strange dream about all of the women in our family being lined up and undressed. When they were totally undressed everyone stood in some kind of queue to welcome the arrival of the Roman legions. There was more than that in the dream but going back in the return of this dream is really all that I remember and I can’t remember anything at all about the actual dream itself which is a shame

In fact, no it isn’t and I’m glad that the dream stopped there because, had it carried on, it would have quite put me off my breakfast. If I’m going to be present when women are stripping off, I’ll choose them myself, thank you, not have them imposed upon me. Knowing my luck it will be a bunch of retired Bulgarian female weightlifters rather than the female members of an Olympic beach-volleyball team.

We had my white Passat estate and we decided that we’d put it back on the road. We went over it, made a list of everything that needed doing including the bodywork, bought all the pieces and began to clean it and weld it. It wasn’t as bad as we thought it was going to be and we did the most important parts. We found that we could drive it but the brakes were binding. I’d adjusted the handbrake but my father was going to climb underneath it. I said that it was either a 17mm or 19mm spanner. He felt it and thought that it was bigger than that. I noticed that he was trying to undo the void bushes so directed him to the correct area. Later on we were having a look. We’d done the rear of the boot but the sides of the floor needed patching so we bought some body panels for that and were busy measuring, preparing to cut out the old rot and fit the panels when the alarm went off.

Ahh yes! Good old Saltofix. A company in Oswestry that made replacement body panels and tailored patches for cars. The amount of stuff I bought for the Cortinas we were running must have kept them in business. There is still a stack of body panels and patches down on the farm that must be worth a fortune, especially the two rear quarters for a Ford Cortina MkIII in the back of the Luton Transit that are worth a King’s ransom. I wonder how much any body panels for the Vanden Plas in my barn would cost me these days. I should have bought them when I dragged the car out of that scrapyard in Belgium in 1998

Isabelle the nurse came along later. We decided (or, rather, she did) that we should try with just two plasters on my legs today. Like I said yesterday, I do admire her optimism. However she thinks that there’s a dramatic improvement already but I remain unconvinced.

After she left I made breakfast and read READ MY BOOK. Thomas Wright has now left Stonehenge and gone to look at the remains of Old Sarum down the road.

However before he left he made an interesting remark. Although it seems to be assumed that no archaeological excavations took place at Stonehenge until Aubrey’s excavations in 1666, he seems to be aware of an ancient book that states "in 1620 the celebrated Duke of Buckingham , King James’s favourite , did cause the middle of Stonehenge to be digged, and this underdigging was the cause of the falling down or recumbencie of the great stone there ."

Back in here later I made a start on my Welsh homework and in a mad fit of enthusiasm I worked my way non-stop all the way through two-thirds of it, leaving just one-third for next week. It’s not like me to race ahead of myself. usually I’m always struggling, miles behind relevant deadlines.

Having done that I carried on with my research into the next programme and I’m now beginning to choose the music that I want to feature. It should actually mean slightly less work because one track is over 17 minutes long and I’ve been waiting for an appropriate moment to feature this.

The cleaner fitted my anaesthetic patches onto my arm and stayed for a chat for a while. The taxi that came for me was the luxury car that’s usually driven by the boss’s daughter. However the driver was a guy who has taken me to Paris in the past and we had a really good chat.

Just five patients in the Dialysis clinic today. In fact the staff outnumbered the patients by about four to one. The young nurse who looked after me, Julie, is a self-taught pastry cook and she showed me photos of some of her creations. And I had to say that I was well impressed.

She was also quite good at wiring me up to the machine and I hardly felt a thing.

Emilie the Cute Consultant was there today, but she kept her distance and didn’t even come within my range of vision. I merely caught a couple of glimpses of her down the corridor.

Instead, it was the senior doctor who came to see me. "I have some good news for you" he said. "We can cut out one of the medicines that you’ve been taking".
However, without hardly drawing breath, he went on to say "but that will create a couple of side-effects so I’m going to give you a prescription for three more to counter the effects."

So is that now 36 per day? Or 37? I lost count a long time ago and quite frankly, I couldn’t care less. I’m sure that there are more medicines in this apartment than in the chemist’s shop in town.

As for the famous confrontation about the plasters and the compression socks, the doctor didn’t even bother. Julie the Cook took down (not “off”) my socks, took off the plasters, cleaned the legs with antiseptic and put the new plasters on. Exactly the same that the nurse does.

So I don’t understand any of this.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that the other day that I crowed about having driven the trick cyclist away. However it’s a mistake to underestimate your enemies. She’s made of far sterner stuff and was back today.

We had all of the usual pregnant pauses to try to provoke a response, so I showed her MY TRAVEL WEBSITE instead.

Because I don’t have a password to access the intranet I had to show her on a ‘phone instead of my laptop. And the result of this is that I now have a log-in and password to access the intranet. The World’s my oyster!

In recompense I suppose that I shall have to throw her a sprat and say how much I’m in love with my mother and how as a baby I had uncomfortable feelings about my nurse. She probably is a follower of Freud.

During the process I fell asleep – not a crash-out but a gentle slide into somnolence and a gradual fading out. And while I was asleep, Castor came to see me. She just stood there, at the foot of the bed without saying or doing anything, almost as if she was watching over me like a guardian angel. And I had a great wish to reach out to her but pipes and tubes in my left arm, a blood pressure brassard on my right so I couldn’t move. Can you imagine?

The unplugging was also painless and without complications and I was soon in the taxi to come home. In fact, it was the earliest that I’ve ever been out of there and after my cleaner watched me up the stairs (I managed seven before I had to use my hand to lift up my leg) I actually had some free time to myself.

My cleaner thinks that I’m much more motivated, much more enthusiastic and much more switched-on than I was before all of this started. If that’s the case, I wonder what I’ll be like in twelve months time.

Tea tonight was as usual, a stuffed pepper. Just as delicious as usual and with plenty of stuffing left over for the rest of the week. It was followed by a slice of apple cake with coconut-flavoured soya dessert for pudding. And nice it was too.

So bedtime now, ready for my Welsh lesson tomorrow.

Before I go though, seeing as we have been talking about psychiatrists … "well one of us is" – ed … I’m reminded of one particular person who went to see a psychiatrist
"And what can I do for you?" asked the psychiatrist
"I’m having terrible trouble" replied the man. "I keep on thinking that I want to kill myself. What should I do?"
"You should start" said the psychiatrist "by paying me in advance"

0

Monday 7th October 2024 – MY APPLE CAKE …

… tastes absolutely delicious. I cut it up and put it in the fridge this evening and there were still some crumbs lying about so I was tempted to have a sample. And I’m glad that I did. I made a mental note to make this for pudding another time because it really was nice.

What made a big difference was to whizz up the ingredients instead of mixing them in a bowl with a spoon. Everything was properly and thoroughly mixed in, and that is definitely progress.

So what can I try to make next?

One thing that I can try to make is a concerted effort to be in bed at a reasonable time. Last night I actually managed it too, and with going to sleep fairly early I had a good sleep all the way through to … errr … 06:00

That might not seem much, but it’s a lot better than some nights have been just recently.

And then I managed to drift off back to sleep because when the alarm went off, I was miles away.

In fact there was a dream going on. I was working with a girl and she had this very irritating habit of whenever i said something she gave her agreement by using some phrase and she said it two or three times and it really got on my nerves. I wish that I could remember the phrase now but the dream had only just started when the alarm went off.

In the bathroom I had a good wash, a shave and a wash of the clothes, including the socks. And I applied plenty of deodorant in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant and you can laugh all you want to, I don’t care.

Back in here I transcribed the dictaphone notes from the night. We were all back at work and we had a military unit that had come along and been transplanted in. The General was one of these people who was a stickler for propriety. Everything had to be done absolutely perfectly so it was only natural that people began to mimic his actions, his way of saluting, his way of talking etc. It became something of a standing joke. One day he happened to come across a group of civilians, one of whom was one of his fiercest critics. After he’d talked to them for a couple of minutes he turned to that civilian and said “well, aren’t you going to salute me?”. The civilian, rising to the challenge, gave him an absolutely perfect military salute, an exact copy of what he would have done, and came out with a phrase that the General would have used, and exactly in the right accent. The General turned to the civilian and said “do you know, Mr so-and-so, that is probably the best thing that you have ever done” and walked away. Of course it became quite a subject for discussion in the office canteen about the General having seen to be the right kind of person for the people to take the mickey, and a person who would appreciate a good joke

We did have a Military Unit in the office and the General in charge was a Finnish General whose claim to fame was that he had been kidnapped by one of the groups of militia in Lebanon and held to ransom. When his chauffeur was away somewhere and my boss was in the USA I was given the task of driving him around for a week and after I finished he gave me a huge lumberjack’s axe which I have down on the farm. In his apartment just as you go in was a big stuffed brown bear in pouncing pose on its hind legs. "I shot that" he proudly announced.

But there’s a funny story related to that. There was a party at his place and people from all over Europe were there, all speaking English no matter where they came from. One woman asked him about the bear and when he said that he’d shot it, she asked what they did. He replied "we ate it". There is a lot of miscommunication and misunderstanding when you are using a second language, and she went around telling the rest of the party how the General, having shot his bear, then sat down in the tundra under a tree and tucked in, presumably without cooking it.

There was then also something about me living at home and meeting up with a group of kids. There seemed to be a youngish girl who took something of a fancy to me. She would always seek me out and spend a lot of time chatting. I happened to quite like her so I used in some ways to encourage it. We ended up chatting to each other on the ‘phone quite a lot. On one particular occasion she went down to the swimming baths but I had to work until 14:00. I told her that I’d give her a ring when I’d finished to see how the water was. Round about 13:40 there was nothing else happening at all so I ‘phoned her and asked her about the water, asked her about everything and told her that I’d be down shortly. I put everything away and went to see my mother to tell her that I was going down to the swimming baths. She must have heard my conversation because she made some kind of remark. Then she brought me a cup of tea and I had the impression that it was almost as if she was preventing me from going. I wasn’t really sure why but out of politeness I sat and drank the tea. I know who this girl is too. I did actually quite like her and I’m trying to thing of her name but I just can’t

This girl is so familiar that when I saw her in my dream I didn’t mind that it was she rather than Zero who had come to see me. So I really wish that I knew who she was because I really have no idea and that is just so sad. And how familiar is it that a member of my family will try to spike my guns?

Telephones in the baths is a novel idea too. In my day it was wristwatches that caused the most problems. I flooded one or two beyond repair and so did many others. How many ‘phones would be flooded these days? I’ve not been to the swimming baths since the happy days at Commentry when I used to go every Saturday afternoon on my way home from the shops at Montluçon.

The nurse came round and we had an even quicker record time today. He’s really got the wind up about something. Maybe it’s my deodorant, I dunno.

But after he left I had breakfast and read MY BOOK. Our author, Thomas Wright is still poking around the Iron Age Hillforts on the Shropshire-Herefordshire-Radnorshire-Montgomeryshire border

On our way round we inspected a megalith that was standing in a field near the village of Whitcott Keysett. Sad to say, it was flattened and smashed as recently as 1944. I could weep.

Back in here I attacked the next radio programme and all of the music has now been chosen, paired off and segued. Next task was to review the programme that will be broadcast on Friday and then send it off. Finally I made a start on my Welsh homework.

There was also a moment to ‘phone up the Dialysis Centre to confirm that they had my headphones. And I hadn’t, until then, realised that I was entitled to a locker in the dressing room.

All of that took me up to 12:10 when my cleaner came to fit the anaesthetic patches on my arm. We had a chat and then she departed hence and I made a start on cutting up my apple cake, but once more the taxi came early.

We had a good chat all the way down to the centre where I arrived really early so they could start quite quickly. One of the needles was fairly painful but the other, I hardly felt at all.

They had put me in a room today, presumably because I misbehaved last time, I dunno, but it did mean that I was hardly interrupted and I could crack on.

My Welsh homework was finished quite quickly and I could carry on reading Lewis Carroll’s biography.

And what do you make of this paragraph? It was written by the editor of “Aunt Judy’s Magazine” reviewing one of Carroll’s works
"Some of the touches are so exquisite, one would have thought nothing short of intercourse with fairies could have put them into your head"

Of course when we look at words like “brilliant” and “fantastic”, they have long-since lost their literal meaning and modern usage has given them a completely different meaning

Emilie the Cute Consultant was there today and although she gave me a wave, she kept well away from my lair. The chief of the unit came to see me and try to pitch me on this home dialysis. Instead I told him about the issues with my foot and he agreed that it’s probably a trapped nerve. He’s going to arrange a body scan and an IRM.

Eventually they unplugged me, weighed me and threw me out. Half of the weight that I had lost last time had stayed lost and today I lost another 1.7kg.

The driver who brought me home was another candidate for The Driver From Hell. As fast as it was possible to go and driving so close to the car in front that we would have all been done for if someone further in front had applied the brakes. I was glad to be home.

This evening I could only manage one step without using my hand to lift up my leg, and it was a struggle to make the last two stairs. That’s a backward step … "very good" – ed … and I’m disappointed by that.

After my cleaner had sorted me out and left, I checked the Welsh homework that I’d done and then sent it off.

Tea was as usual a stuffed pepper. And I’m going to stop buying tomatoes from LeClerc. They are going bad quicker than I can use them.

So now having finished my notes, I’m off to bed, later than I would have liked.

But seeing as we have been talking about second languages … "well, one of us is" – ed …what’s even funnier though is when people come out with something that you wouldn’t expect when they are speaking a foreign language. I have learned in many, many different languages of Europe certain phrases that would never be taught at school and many of my colleagues have learnt them in English, seeing as I was the only English-speaker in the whole of my unit.
One day I was looking for one of my Italian colleagues, and saw him down the far end of a crowded corridor.
"Domenico" I shouted. "What are you doing right now?"
"Eric" he shouted back in his lovely Italian accent "I am doing bugger all"
And there was a deathly silence in the corridor. How was I supposed to know that a committee from the British Permanent Representation, including the Ambassador, was being shown around the building?

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Monday 30th September 2024 – I SAW EMILIE …

… the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

She came to see how I was doing and her first words to me were "have you considered having your dialysis done at home?"

It looks as if our little romance is over, not that there ever was one at the beginning.

After all, the Hippocratic Oath that all doctors are obliged to take goes something along the lines of "you can make a patient out of your Mistress, but not a Mistress out of your patient".

And, I imagine, these days with all of these female doctors, I imagine that the oath has now become unisex

Last night anyway I dashed off to bed in eager anticipation of a possible encounter today, but my encounter with my pillow was rather later than I would have liked. I still can’t find the way to my bed at any kind of respectable hour.

For a few hours I managed a decent sleep too but I awoke early and then just spent the rest of the time tossing and turning and occasionally falling asleep until the alarm went off.

At the sound of the alarm I was with a couple of girls in a café. We were discussing some obscure English. I was explaining to her about the diphthong “EA”, giving her the example such as “heather”. We were talking about that for a while. Then the subject moved on to the triangular sign that you would see on a cassette keyboard so we were reminiscing about the old cassette players, the triangular arrow and the two triangular arrows, one key with two triangular arrows going one way and another key with two triangular arrows going another way. Then there was the key with a square on it, a key with a red dot on it. We were talking about all of this. These girls had grown up in the era of media and those buttons wouldn’t mean very much to them.

That’s something with which I have difficulty coming to terms. Never mind computers, I remember life before cassette tapes. I forget how old I am and that many people don’t have the same experience. Back in the good old days before I moved into the Real World I was bringing a coach and a hostess back from somewhere and as we were empty I put on a tape.
"What’s this music?" she asked.
And so I told her what it was. And added "it was recorded in 1971"
"1971?" she exclaimed "I wasn’t even born then!"
God knows what a girl of 19 would make of my choice of music today.

In the bathroom I washed myself and then washed my socks and undies, picking a clean pair off my bathroom octopus that hangs from the shower curtain rail. And then I had a shave and applied a liberal helping of deodorant. Must look my best in case I meet the aforementioned.

Back in here I listened to the dictaphone to find out if I’d been anywhere during the night. I was out on the West Coast with Marty Balin and that lot. They wanted a bassist because their last bassist had had trouble with the USA Government so they called for me to ask me if I would come down. I went down and met them, and happened to mention that I was having trouble with the USA Government too. It considered me to be a citizen and wanted all my taxes and for me to go to join the Military etc. The Chinese guy who was there said that I had told him to put my name down on the form. I replied that that was the Census that wanted to know everyone who was where at a certain place at a certain time. We had a lengthy discussion about that. I was sure that nothing would ever come of it, but anyway … That night there was a party so I went to join in. I was more talking about business. I was with a girl who wanted to know that if she subscribed, what would she receive for her money. I didn’t really know myself so I tried to tell her some kind of vague story but she wanted some more precise details from that. In the meantime there was a stash of money about the place. This was in danger of disappearing so I took it and hid it about my person. I was sure that someone would be bound to say something about it and point the finger at me but I thought that it was all getting completely out of hand, just like anything on the West Coast when once the evil substances started to be passed around, then anything could happen and usually did, and it was usually to the detriment of those who were naïve enough to think that they were going to do the best for everyone.

In the past I’ve met loads of well-meaning people and almost inevitably, almost all of them have been taken for a ride by the more unscrupulous members of society. And as for life in a commune, my experience was such that I went to live in a van instead.

The nurse apologised for being late but she had a considerable number of blood tests to do. That made me laugh. It’s her last day and her first day was full of blood tests too. As I explained to my faithful cleaner later, I think that the clients of this little nursing circle have sussed out her oppo. I know which one of the two nurses I would rather have when it comes to sampling my blood and I reckon that all the other clients feel the same.

After she’d left I had breakfast and read MY BOOK

Our hero has now left Portus Lemanis and is now at Anderida, another “Saxon Shore” fort, this time at Pevensey just down the coast. Once more, he’s bewailing the lost treasures, the demolished walls and so on, and spends a lot of time theorising, much of which was confirmed by later excavations

Back in here I put a spurt on. Firstly I reviewed my Welsh from last week and completed the first part of the homework. Secondly I chose the first ten tracks for the next radio programme, and thirdly I reviewed the programme that will hopefully be broadcast this weekend and, satisfied, I sent it off.

While all of that was going on, our little travel group was having a good and lively chat. It’s nice to keep up with people, especially as I don’t see Alison as often as I used to, or, indeed, as often as I would like. And the same goes for the others too.

Mind you, I don’t know where that impressive burst of energy and concentration came from.

That took me nicely up to the arrival of my cleaner who applied my anaesthetic patches with her usual dexterity.

And her I upset her. I told her that I nearly spilled my breakfast porridge all over me because the microwave is not too high. So we worked out that we could lower its shelves three notches if we were to move the baking trays around and swap the rest of the stuff round on the two shelves.

The taxi came early again while I was in the middle of organising the baking bowls so leaving them on the worktop I hit the streets.

Today’s driver was the young, friendly one and we had a good chat all the way through the rainstorms to Avranches

Some of Saturday’s weight loss has stayed lost, I’m pleased to say. And the “plugging in” was quite a lot less painful that other times. One of the nurses wanted to try out her English so we had a few little chats.

Emilie the Cute Consultant came to enquire after my well-being. No more friendly, social chit-chat perched on the edge of my bed. Instead she gave me a very broad hint that I ought to clear off. Maybe she really is a regular reader of this rubbish.

To pass the time I began to tidy up a few of the directories and, deep in the bowels of the computer, I came across a football match that I’d recorded but never seen, dating from 2019, Y Bala v Airbus. So now I can file that under CS too.

After they unplugged me I weighed myself again and I’d lost the grand total of 300 grammes. I want to lose a lot more than that.

The taxi driver had to wait a while for me and she already had a passenger with her. Ahh well, can’t be helped. But we had a nice little chat on the way home.

Having texted my cleaner earlier, she was waiting for me and watched as I made it up the stairs. Even managing the first one without lifting my knee up with my hand.

In here we sorted out the shelves and its now much more reasonable, as I found out later while cooking my delicious stuffed pepper

Now it’s time for bed, ready for tomorrow and my Welsh lesson.

During our on-line chat this morning the others were laughing at me because I’ve applied the deodorant “in case Emilie the Cute Consultant is on duty”.
It remind sme of when a solicitor had been searching for me in Brussels for several years and finally caught up with me.
"Mr Hall!" he exclaimed. "What happened to you? We thought that you might have been dead for years!"
"No he isn’t" said his assistant. "He just smells like it"

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Monday 23 September 2024 – I’M FED UP …

… already of these blasted visits to the perishing Dialysis Clinic. 13:30 when I arrived and flaming 18:30 when I finally made it out of the accursed door. It’s really becoming ridiculous.

And to think that I went to bed early again last night. A good few minutes before 23:00 and settled down quickly to sleep. I didn’t have much to do in the evening after I’d finished my notes. I just washed my socks and that was that

It was a good sleep too and I wished that there had been more of it. I did actually awaken at some point but I’ve no idea what time, I didn’t go to look or anything like that. I just snuggled up under the quilt and that was that.

There I stayed until 07:00 when the alarm went off, and then I took myself off to the bathroom.

While I was in there I had a really good scrub, a shave, a complete change of clothes in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant at the Dialysis Clinic, and washed my trousers and undies, As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I have to keep on top of the clothes issue here.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was a group of five of us doing casual work at some factory. It was a very well-paid job so there were many applicants for the post but basically someone else and I were given the job and I was to bring three other people with us. We had some kind of informal rota. On one occasion we’d gone home for lunch but one of the people wouldn’t come back in the afternoon for some reason so I suggested that someone else come along and they’d go and fetch this other person. In the meantime the person who wasn’t coming back had given his place up to his friend so after lunch to climb back in the car to go back there were six of us and that was not possible. We began to have a discussion that led to some kind of argument.

Most of the problems in the World are caused by lack of communication and lack of clear instructions. It seems that, in my dreams, I’m as guilty of this as anyone else. But no-one would leave me in charge of anything, not even today. I’m very much a cat that walks by itself. In the past I did have quite a bunch of followers but, like you lot, they only followed me out of curiosity.

We then all ended up in a coach owned by a local company in Crewe for whom I used to do some driving when Shearings had nothing else going on. We were about to go somewhere. It was a woman driver and she was telling me all about what you had to do have a licence these days and what different types of licence there were. For her, she had to apply for a new licence and had to take some kind of logic test because she’s over a certain age limit. We all piled into one of their coaches and the woman began to drive it. The first thing that she did was to reverse it out of this parking spot. I thought when she pulled up that it would be much easier to drive in and reverse out but she decided to do it the other way. It led to quite a long reverse and she was complaining about it. I said “I hope that it chokes you” because really she should have done it the other way round. But she was going on about her driving test too, how she wasn’t looking forward to it but she’d still be taking it all the same

It beats me why people drive into parking spaces and then have to reverse out when they want to go. We see dozens of examples of this down in the parking spaces by the port, and I bet that you can see this every day of the week in any supermarket car park. People reversing out into narrow roads when there are loads of other cars and pedestrians going by. I used to have crowds of shoppers watching me open-mouthed when I used to reverse into a parking space in North America. Reversing into a parking space is totally unknown across the Atlantic. But this came about because on Saturday our taxi driver had to go down a long entry to pick up another passenger and had to come back out the way she came in. So she drove up and reversed out, which was the strangest decision that I’ve ever seen made.

The nurse came this morning, and once again he got on my wick right from the start. Seeing my empty bottle of 0% Leffe on the worktop he asked me "have you had a beer?"
"No" I replied.

He really is getting on my nerves. If he’s still here and I haven’t cleared him off by the time that I’m downstairs and have a cat he’s going to be even more confused. I shall be blaming everything on the cat

The cleaner stuck her head in as she passed. She wanted the prescription that they had given me on Saturday so that she could take it to the pharmacy. The nurse buttonholed her and gave her a list of more supplies. I bet she regretted coming by.

After everyone had cleared off I made my breakfast and went to read my book.

Today, we are walking around the site of Ariconium, a Roman industrial settlement in Herefordshire. It’s sad to say that even as late as 1854 there were elderly locals who remembered when farmers, having cleared away a huge mess of brambles, came across walls, flooring and roadways of the abandoned town, and promptly pillaged them for building material and hardcore.

The amount of stuff that must have gone “missing” just over the last couple of centuries must be enormous. The author. Thomas Wright, tells us that every cottage in the area has examples of Roman coins that they found in the ruins. I wonder where they are now.

Back in my room I finished off my Welsh homework so that’s ready for a final check before I send it off.

Next, I began another project that has been in the pipeline for several years – to identify all of the videos that I’ve recorded and tag them with comments so that I can see from the File Manager what they are

Not that I managed to proceed very far because my cleaner turned up with the supplies and to put my patches on my arm.

"Il me saoule" – he p155es me off she said of our friendly neighbourhood nurse and I know exactly what she means. What … errr … colourful language I never learned working in a pool of French-speaking chauffeurs, my cleaner is completing my education.

And it seems that we both have the same idea. "One of these days I’d like to try having a shower" I said "But only when you are here in case I fall"
"Yes" she replied. "I was thinking that you ought to try"

So now I’m not sure whether that says more about my new improved mobility or the current state of my personal hygiene.

After she left I had to wait for a while until the taxi came, and when I finally made it downstairs I witnessed a heated “discussion” between the taxi driver and the driver of the local bus in whose bus stop the taxi was parked. Still, it makes life so interesting for the spectators.

Our driver forgot about the roadworks and so we had to make several deviations which took time, and he just dumped me at the Dialysis Centre while he cleared off with our other passenger to his appointment.

Emilie the Cute Consultant and her sidekicks were coming up from the hospital so she said hello as she went past and disappeared inside while I made my way to my bed.

The nurses there had plenty to do and it was long after the efficacity of the patches had worn off before they came to see me. I’m sure that they did that on purpose. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … you can tell how much the nurses like you by how they stick the needles in.

They eventually managed to couple me up to the machine and gave me an orange juice as my blood sugar was at a critical level, and then they cleared off. They were soon back though, as the machine had been wailing for five minutes.

It seemed that they had managed to put the needle into exactly the same hole as in a previous occasion and there was a leak. There was so much fiddling around and in the end they took it out and put it in elsewhere, long after the anaesthetic effect of the needle had worn off.

A little earlier I’d asked to see the chief of the unit, but he’s on holiday, so I’d asked to see Emilie the Cute Consultant because I really do need a second opinion about this massively increased dose of medication that’s been prescribed.

Instead she sent a sidekick – the same doctor who had written the prescription, so I didn’t bother to waste my time. Instead, presumably as a punishment, he increased the dialysis time by half an hour

When I wasn’t asleep, I was tagging the videos on the portable laptop and I made quite some good progress. The nursing assistant, with whom I’d been having a laugh and a joke, brought me a person-sized mug of coffee which was nice.

Eventually they finished with me and after a laugh and a joke, and a weigh-in during which I discovered that I’d lost over 2 kilos today, I could go to meet my taxi driver.

She was friendly enough but didn’t have much to say for herself, so we drove back to Granville in comparative quiet.

My cleaner was waiting for me and she watched as I climbed wearily up the stairs and into my lair. Thoroughly exhausted and thoroughly fed up, and a pain in my big toe. We discussed the latest situation and then she cleared off.

Tea tonight was a stuffed pepper – really nice and it would have been even nicer had I remembered to put the garlic in there tonight. I really don’t know what’s the matter with me these days.

So now I’ll read through my homework and send it off, and then go to bed, thoroughly fed up. And I wonder what kind of night I’ll have tonight.

But it’s sad that Emilie the Cute Consultant doesn’t love me any more. Perhaps she’s a regular reader of this rubbish and recalls what I have written in the past. Still, as Edward Fitzgerald wrote when he translated The Rubbaiyat of Omar Khayyam into English in 1859,
"The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it"

But while we’re on the subject of translations … "well, one of us is" – ed … it reminds me of when Estonia and Malta joined the European Union. They couldn’t find a single person anywhere who could translate directly between Estonian and Maltese.
Instead, they had to translate from one into English and then from English to the other.
And so we ended up with delightful phrases such as when the Estonian President said "our desires for the future …" the Maltese President heard "our lusts for the future"
When he was questioned about it afterwards, the Estonian President simply said through gritted teeth "we must not be rude to old women, children or interpreters"

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Monday 16th September 2024 – SO THAT’S DAY …

… three of my trip to the Dialysis Clinic. And you probably knew already because you may well have heard me scream when they stuck the needle in

These anaesthetic patches are no use whatever if they fall off inside the sleeve of your jacket and, without thinking, you stick them back on in the hospital so the staff doesn’t know that your forearm isn’t anaesthetised.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I never make a mistake. Instead I just learn a lot of lessons, and some of them are very painful, believe me. They had to douse my arm in alcohol.

Another lesson that I haven’t learned is the one about going to bed early. Last night’s early effort was just a flash in the pan because tonight is going to be horribly late

That’s because last night everything was all done and dusted quite quickly and, for a change, I was feeling a little more like it So with no distractions, like recovering from a painful arm, I headed for bed quite quickly.

At some point during the night I awoke but I can’t tell you when because I didn’t notice. It was dark so I just went back under the bedclothes and there I stayed.

When the alarm went off I staggered into the bathroom and sorted myself out, having a shave too in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant, and also washed the puttees that had been soaking in a bowl of water since about for ever. They are now hanging up to dry.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what I was up to during the night. We had a small chauffeur’s office and in the office next door were a couple of girls. We all got on extremely well. We used to cook communal meals – we’d cook a couple of things in our room and they’d cook a couple of things. We’d just go along and help ourselves to bits from everywhere. One day I was working on something and hadn’t noticed the time. Suddenly my two colleagues said that they were off out and there were sausages in the room next door if I wanted. I had a look and they had cooked some peas and mixed them with spaghetti and tomato sauce which didn’t look very appetising. Nevertheless I went next door and there wasn’t very much left at all, just a couple of potatoes and a sausage. The girls gave me something of a lecture about waiting until the last moment – if they hadn’t been so kind someone else would have eaten that. In the end I had to borrow a plate, scrounge some bread and start to serve myself this bit of an ad-hoc meal. As I said, the peas with spaghetti and tomato sauce didn’t look appetising but it was food all the same.

Wouldn’t it have been nice if our office had been as friendly as that? I had endless runs-in with my boss and my colleagues, as I have mentioned before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … and weren’t they glad when my Director’s Directorate moved to a different building. There just happened to be a spare room going begging and "if you were to move there you wouldn’t have to fight the Kortenberg traffic every time he wanted to go somewhere". . Yes, I’ll do that. And we all had some peace.

But the cooking in the office reminds me of school. The remodelling and modernisation of the school meant that the Sixth-form common room had previously been the old cookery lab and they hadn’t removed the appliances. And so for a group of us, lunch was a large tin of baked beans and a large sliced loaf divided four ways. And when we went running afterwards we would set record times without any trouble whatsoever. And that lasted until one of the boys casually mentioned that his uncle and aunt kept a pub just down the road.

Isabelle the nurse came in and did her best to raise my morale. She was on the point of giving me another shopping list when my cleaner stuck her head in for something. And so I let them get on with it between them

Breakfast was next and my book. We’ve moved on from abandoned towns (did you like that view yesterday) and on to abandoned villas, not so easy to spot from the air. But the story did go on about the ruins of a villa in private hands.

This was discovered in a forest in the 19th Century and excavated in 1882 by some amateurs who did more damage than good, and roofed over by a lean-to of corrugated sheets. In 1923 the roofing was described by our author as “in poor state, used for breeding pheasants” and in 1945 by another writer as “ruinous”. By 1979 “the sheds have now collapsed and the remains are suffering from weather and from the encroaching wood”. God knows what they will be like now.

Back in here I checked with the taxi company and they have me down for today, which is good news.

And so I wrote a letter that needs posting and afterwards had to contact my health insurers for a document that I need. That involved scanning a couple of documents to attach to my demand

All of my stuff needed sorting out for today too, and to put away what I’d baked yesterday. And you’ll be amazed at how quickly the time flies.

My cleaner arrived next, to put the anaesthetic patches on my arm and we had a little bit of a gossip before the taxi came for me.

It was my favourite Rastaman at the controls, and he had another passenger with him – an English woman.

She and her deceased husband had bought their house in 1997 (well, he wasn’t dead then, but never mind) and they came to live permanently in France in 2014. Despite that, she couldn’t string together two lucid words of French.

And yet these are the kind of people who complain about foreigners who come to the UK and can’t speak a word of English after just five minutes living there. I despair.

When my driver whispered in my shell-like about her and said “an Englishwoman – you can make a friend” I explained that I’d left the UK to come away from people like that.

We stopped in Sartilly to pick up another passenger, a retired doctor who didn’t say a word to anyone in any language, and we drove to the clinic.

My bed was right at the far end and so it took me a couple of minutes to make my way there and install myself. I had to be weighed, my blood pressure checked, all that kind of thing before they could plug me in

And that was when my torment began. It was totally agonising

But eventually the machine set off on its cycle and it’s quite strange because the pulses of the machine coincide with a tingling in my fingers, and I was having cramps in my left calf and that strange pain that I have in the sole of my right foot.

That was one day that I hope that I don’t have again, especially as they forgot the coffee and I had to harass them for it.

There’s a change of book too. I’ve finished Colonel Carrington’s report and I’m now on a book entitled CURIOUS CHURCH CUSTOMS. I’ll let you know if I find anything exciting.

Emilie the Cute Consultant was in the building today but she didn’t come to see me. I don’t think that she loves me any more. Instead I had another side-kick who came to see me, just for the sake of form, I suspect.

Someone else also presented herself to me – as the Assistante Sociale. Wouldn’t surprise me if she isn’t the trick cyclist in mufti sizing me up, or else she’s the mortician’s assistant sizing me up for the correct size of coffin.

Eventually they unplugged me and I went out to meet my chauffeur who would bring me back home. And we had the same man coming home again. Once more, he never said a single word, except when the driver asked “who wants to sit in front?”. Then he opened his mouth pretty quickly.

The driver didn’t have much to say for herself so I was glad to return home and see my cleaner, who made up for all the silence. She watched as I took myself upstairs, disintegrating puttees and all, and back in here where I collapsed into a chair, totally exhausted.

Eventually I could summon up the courage to go to make tea. Horribly late again, but it was another nice stuffed pepper, with plenty of stuffing left over for those who say that I need it.

So late as usual, I’m going to bed.

But the story of the Mortician’s assistant reminds me of my operation in January 2016 where I vented my spleen rather permanently.
There was a choice of two venues for the operation, the private clinic and the State-run hospital, and I chose the State-run hospital
"Why on earth did you do that?" I was asked on several occasions
"Have you seen where the clinic is situated?" I asked
"Nothing wrong with that" was the response. "It’s a nice part of town just there"
"I don’t care whether it’s situated in the Garden of Eden" I retorted. "No-one goes for a surgical operation in a clinic where the other side of the wall is the local cemetery. One false move with the knife, and then under cover of darkness there will be a ‘thud’ over the back wall and no-one will be any the wiser."

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Monday 9th September 2024 – HERE WE GO AGAIN

Up to our ears in paperwork.

The paperwork has been on hold for several weeks while I’ve had other things to do but circumstances dictated that I had a look at it today

And you’ll be amazed how, in this world of digitalisation and computerisation, I can find so much paperwork that needs to be sorted and filed. And once I think that I’ve reached the end, I come across another bundle.

One of the things that I thought that retirement would bring me would have been an end to all of this. But what with hospital issues, old-age pensions, mobility issues, there seems to be more than there was when I was healthy.

That’s easily measured by just looking at the thickness of each year’s paperwork. What I have here only starts at 2016 but the early years seem to be positively bulimic compared to the mountain of paperwork for this year so far. And at this rate, I’ll be sorting paperwork in my sleep.

And last night I could have done that because it ended up being another late night. One of my groundhoppers had gone over to Dublin to watch Ireland v England so I ended up staying up to watch the carnage.

Once in bed I went to sleep quite quickly as you might expect after all that, and slept a deep, uninterrupted sleep for all of four or five hours.

Nevertheless I was flat out when the alarm went off at 07:00 and it was something of a struggle to haul myself up out of bed when the alarm went off.

However I was soon in the bathroom organising myself ready for the day. It’s Isabelle the nurse for the next 8 days so I need to look my best of course.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We also (also?) discussed the idea that someone might be mad and create all kinds of problems for the Earth by detonating nuclear missiles and so on. The guy to whom I was talking was more interested in the idea of there being huge excesses rather than there being actual catastrophes, him threatening everyone with an unexploded bomb, the rocks crushing away before his bones beneath his palace etc. I replied “don’t worry, people will just think that you’re mad”. “How would that be better?”. I said “well, throughout the whole of the Kingdom they asked, and good questions too”.

That all sounds quite gruesome. I’ve no idea at all what I was on about here

Meanwhile in football it was 3-1 or 3-2, I can’t remember. They won 3-1 and the result never really looked in doubt. The victorious team played really well and managed to contain the (…fell asleep here …)

I can’t believe that I fell asleep mid-sentence but I suppose that it might happen now and again.

Someone else was messing me around for some reason or other about a payment. I’d paid it somewhat under pressure and done some research when I returned home. I found that I wasn’t liable to make this payment so I excluded it as from … and that caused a lot of complications about this. In the end I phoned my mother and told her that I was taking two days from work. One day we were travelling on the (…fell asleep here …)

Here, I dreamed that someone took the dictaphone from me and put it on the bedside cupboard. But it was a dream because when the alarm went off I’d lost the dictaphone down the bed somewhere somehow, it was still recording and had been for almost 2.5 hours. My beautiful rhythmic breathing and so on.

When the alarm went off there was a plot to kill a German General who used to nip through the British front line in his car on his way to his own troops. Whenever he did that he was heavily armed and fought off any attempt to attack him. The British used to play a lot of music really loudly, drums and everything, to awaken everyone to the fact that he was coming that way in the hope that someone could stop him. I’d proposed mining the road and having a detonator somewhere where someone could just press a button and blow up a crater with him in it but for some reason no-one had ever thought of that. One day we were driving a couple of Army lorries along that road. All of a sudden there was just total mayhem, lorries overturning and swerving out of control. At first we thought that we’d hit a mine but we hadn’t – there was no noise of any explosion so it couldn’t have been that. While all of this chaos was going on, one of the lorries having to perform some violent manoeuvres burst a front tyre and overturned. In the middle of all this carnage a black Ford Thames van with German number-plates on it disappeared into the distance. Speculation was that this van had been driving recklessly, overtaking a couple of lorries, and had carried out some manoeuvre that had caused one of the lorries to swerve and that had caused a pile-up of vehicles behind it so everyone seemed to think that this German Ford was responsible for this chaos but no-one could ever catch it. I tried to send a message to the border so that they could hold him at the border as he tries to go through but there was no way of contacting anyone at the site of the accident.

The van was actually a Ford Thames 400E, the predecessor to the Transit and the competitor to the Bedford CA but for some reason I described it as a 117E. Anyway it was a model that was mainly built for the British and Commonwealth market although some left-hand drive versions were built by Ford of Denmark so finding a left-hand drive German-registered example would be a rare bird indeed. But during the days of the “Red Ball Express”, the shuttle service of war goods from the ports to the Front Line, the haste and indiscipline was such that there were hundreds of accidents and many a French farmer, garagiste or haulier acquired an “Army Surplus” lorry or Jeep that had some kind of accident damage and which had been simply left by the roadside.

Later on Hurricane Isabelle blew through the apartment. She’s convinced that I’m being dialysed on Tuesday and wants to know why I haven’t had this prescription – the one that I don’t have – made out

If I don’t have it I can’t do anything, but this was what started me off on this paperchase today.

But not until after breakfast. And especially until I have had a coffee.

During breakfast I read some more of my ROMANS IN BRITAIN and today he mentioned the fort on the River Tweed at Newstead.

Newstead, probably the most important and substantial Roman town north of Hadrian’s Wall, has been excavated a couple of times. The most famous time was by James Curle in 1905 and he prepared a report that ran to 235 pages and a lovely list of books that contributed to his opus. And as it happens, his report is AVAILABLE ON-LINE for downloading, to add to the huge pile of books that I need to read.

It was situated on the banks of the River Tweed and was the junction presumably of the road north from Londinium and Eboracum and where the roads branched off to each end of the Antonine Wall across the isthmus between the Forth and Clyde. When the Antonine Wall was abandoned in AD184 and the Romans retreated to Hadrian’s Wall that ran between the Solway and the Tyne, it’s likely that Newstead was abandoned too. The amount of artefacts excavated at Newstead is astonishing and seems to suggest that the abandonment and subsequent flight was so panic-stricken that they could only take away what they could carry in their arms and left the rest behind. It really must have been something, this flight, and it’s a shame that whoever it was who was responsible for it could leave no written record. I would have loved to have read it.

And believe me, I shall be sifting through his list of books that the author read to see what I can find to add to my downloaded library of books to read

As for the site itself, which was discovered when the railway bridge just down the road was built across the Tweed, it’s nothing like as clear from the air as the site at Caersws is, sue, I imagine, to the constant ploughing of the site.

There was some football on the internet next. This rage for televising your home games seems now to have percolated into Wales and Newport City in the Second Division were broadcasting their match against Llanelli.

Newport picked up a couple of good players in the transfer window and they are mounting a challenge for the title. I hadn’t seen them before so I wanted to watch the game. And I quite enjoyed it too.

But it’s sad that I can only live the life of a groundhopper these days thanks to someone else’s GoPro.

The next task was to have a play around with that site where I have to send my medical expenses claims.

After much binding in the marsh I seem to have made it see a kind of sense and managed by chocolate time to upload all the receipts that I could find.

My cleaner came by with more supplies and the day’s post. We had a chat about this and that (I’m keeping well clear of chatting about “the other”) without solving any real problems and then I came in here to attack the paperwork.

Almost straight away I found two more receipts but I suppose that it’s like that. But now anyway I have about 5 different piles of paper that need either merging together or putting in the medical folder for the next batch of medical claims.

But where’s it all going to end?

Tea was a stuffed pepper with pasta. A lovely meal, especially when followed by home-made apple crumble

So now I’m going to have another 20 minutes filing and then go to bed

But it’s a mystery where things go to in this place. I’ve lost yet another clip for these puttees and I’ve not been anywhere for it to disappear to.

And did I really have this prescription? Or is the doctor imagining it?
It could be that, I suppose. I was told that he was the doctor on duty when they were filming the remake of “The Invisible Man”
After an accident on the set he went to see the doctor and the receptionist announced him
"I’m busy right now" said the doctor. "Tell him that I can’t see him at the moment"

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Monday 2nd September 2024 – AND IF YOU THINK …

… that our last Summer School went along at a cracking pace, you ain’t seen nuffink yet!

One unit in a day is some going when a course of twenty is supposed to take a year, but today we have worked our way through two units, with at least two more to come tomorrow.

And there’s homework too. I’ve had a big pile shoved through onto my desktop which I have to complete before the course starts again tomorrow.

But right now I’m whacked. I crashed out earlier on and as a result, once more I’m running horribly late.

And that’s really a disappointment because last night I was actually, for once in my life, in bed before 23:00. Not by very much, it has to be said, but even a minute is worth recording because it makes me feel better when I’m late like this.

So I sorted myself out last night, rescued the strawberries that my neighbour gave me, did what I had to do and then crawled into bed. And once more I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow

And I slept through until about … errr … 04:25 when something, presumably outside, awoke me. No idea what it was, and I don’t care either. I didn’t stay awake long, but couldn’t go back deeply to sleep. I kept on tossing and turning until the alarm went off.

And at 07:00 I do have to say that I haven’t felt less like raising myself from the dead for a long time. It was quite a struggle to beat the second alarm and I reckoned that this would really be a good start to the day, I don’t think.

I the bathroom I had a good wash and shave and washed my undies too. Have to keep on top of the chores. And then back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. I was teaching English at a Primary School and in the class that I was teaching, i was teaching them the meaning of the word “Overwhelm”. What we did was to do this visually by having a pig, or a piglet I should say, and the children having to carry it and be overwhelmed while they were doing it and so forth … fell asleep here …. So where were we? Ohh yes, we had this pig and were passing it from one child to another and discussing whether they were overwhelmed or underwhelmed by it. I decided that that was how I was going to teach English in the future – by visual means rather than by sitting there with the kids bored to tears at a desk.

Or frightened to death by a pig. Most kids these days won’t ever have seen a pig in real life and would certainly be overwhelmed if someone were to pass a pig to them. I imagine that it would develop into a game that would be even faster than a game of “Pass The Parcel” in a pub in Belfast.

And then I was on board a spaceship and we had two main electric cables that had been accidentally cut somehow so we were trying to solder them together somehow using a cigarette lighter. While we were doing that, we were watching some kind of strange guy try to leave by one of the doors. We thought “we hadn’t seen him in here before. I wonder what he’s been doing and where he’s been hiding”.

That’s certainly a novel technique but here in France what in the UK would be called “Garden Shed Engineering” is called Système D – the “D” standing for something vulgar. It’s when you do the work that needs to be done with the equipment that you have to hand, so if you need to solder some cables together and all you have is a cigarette lighter, all you can do is to do your best.

The nurse and I had an argument this morning. There he was, in full-chat mode asking me stupid questions and when he asked me the same stupid question that he’d asked me five minutes earlier, I snapped and he cleared off with a flea in his ear. Talk about getting on my wick!

After he left I made breakfast and while I was eating I was reading my book again. The guy is a beautiful writer, as I’m sure that you’d expect when you see prose written by a poet, but much of what he writes, in what is essentially a travel book (albeit a very early one), is quite superfluous and detracts from the information that he gives. He needs to make up his mind what type of book he’s writing.

However it is a bit too late for that now, seeing as he passed on “to another place” in 1917.

Back in here afterwards we started up our Summer School, the first day. We are twelve students and I’ve been on previous Summer Schools with a couple of them before. These classes are, as you would expect, very parochial.

And it’s amazing what you learn. The word for “pumpkin” is pwmpen and for “courgette” it’s corbwmpen. Apparently the prefix cor… when in front of a word means “small”

So it took us much longer than it ought to have done to work out that Corgi, the breed of Welsh dog much loved by the recently-deceased monarch, simply means “small dog”.

During the lunch break I was preparing an on-line order from a well-known on-line retailer and at the end of the lesson went to pay for it, but for reasons that only my bank in Belgium will know, payment was declined

That is of course total nonsense but it was too late to ring up and complain. Consequently that’s a job for first thing in the morning.

There were a few other things to do, like make another flapjack, but I didn’t feel at all like it. Instead I came back in here after a very late hot chocolate and rather regrettably crashed out.

When I finally awoke it was rather late and so since then everything else has been running late. Tea was a stuffed pepper and I think that I’ve missed something out of the stuffing, and the pepper wasn’t cooked enough. It just wasn’t my night I reckon.

So tomorrow I’ll be late for class because I have an appointment down at the Centre de Re-education in the morning. I wonder what they want. I really have no idea.

But it’s good news that they are still interested in me. However just imagine if they offer me a series of courses like last time. Three days per week having dialysis, two days a week down there – I’ll be whacked. And so will the poor drivers who will have to help me upstairs if my loyal cleaner isn’t about

She’s dropped in twice today already for different things. It won’t be long, at this rate, before she moves in here for good.

But the recently-departed Lizzie and her Welsh Corgis – it’s a good job that she doesn’t live in the castle at Y Fflint. Apparently the Y Fflint players offered once to take her dogs for a walk but she told them to clear off
"Why’s that?" asked manager Lee Fowler. "I thought that it was a very noble gesture"
"2-0 up against Y Barri halfway through the second half and you end up losing 3-2?" she roared. "Before your lads take my Corgis for a walk they’ll have to learn to hold on to a lead."

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Monday 19th August 2024 – AND SO THAT’S …

… Day Six of my Summer School. Just four more to go before I can have a break, and catch up on the mountain of correcpondence that has built up over the last couple of weeks

There’s a week off to cover the August Bank Holiday week, and then there’s the final week of the three before the next year’s course gets under way.

The final week is actually to cover the year that I’ve just had. This two weeks is to catch up on the time that I spent in Canada and then in hospital a couple of years ago. However I seem to have miscalculated in that this is actually the second half of a continuing course and I really needed the first half.

Ahhh well … These little things are sent to try us, I suppose.

So last night it was another late night before I could drag myself out of my comfortable chair and into my stinking pit. This gap of several inches is like a yawning gap with all of the effort it takes for me to haul myself across.

But once I was in bed I didn’t need much rocking. My night-time mantra had scarcely begun before I was drifting away into the Land of Nod.

And there I stayed until the alarm went off – the correct alarm this time too. It was like awakening someone from the Dead when it finally range. Whatever had gone on during the night, I knew nothing whatever about it.

IN the bathroom I sorted myself out, washed and dressed, and then came back in here to have a listen to the dictaphone to find out where ‘d been during the night

And to my dismay, there was nothing on it. That’s a real disappointment because, as I have said before… "and on many occasions too" – ed … what goes on at night is the only excitement that I have these days.

So with no dictaphone to distract me, I uploaded this coming weekend’s radio programme to the office for them to fit into the live stream

When the nurse came he was his usual chatty self but he didn’t have all that much to say for himself. This shopping list though is growing and if we carry on like this we’ll need a lorry to bring it all home

But seriously, that’s the one thing that’s worrying me about moving. How’s it all going to work without a band of willing volunteers?

Like most things these days, it’s something just to ignore and hope that it all goes right on the night.

As I said earlier, the lesson passed quite well. We were doing the Genitive case today, “the bag of Sian” and all that. It’s quite complicated because in Welsh it’s all written in archaic form, there are contractions that don’t follow any rules and some other contractions have rules that just aren’t logical

But this is the problem with a language where its development and evolution was suppressed for over 70 years, from 1894 to 1967, and this was a time when a lot of linguistic evolution was taking place.

The French Community in Québec had similar issues but even so they had “la Hexagone” in Europe on which to fall back. Nevertheless, you’d still be surprised at the difference between Québecois French and thenFrancais de Paris. The Welsh had no similar benchmarks.

There were the usual pauses during the lesson, during which I made a start on editing the radio programme that remained from the batch that I’d dictated on Saturday. And by the tie I’d reached the end of the day I’d done about a third of it. I’m not doing too well with my editing right now. I need to put my foot down.

But I had several pauses, including one for my hot chocolate and slice of chocolate cake that still seems to be doing well in the fridge in its airtight container.

Tea tonight was, as usual, a stuffed pepper. And there’s piles of stuffing left for a taco roll and for a leftover curry on Wednesday.

This batch really is excellent and quite spicy. It’ll probably put hairs in places where I didn’t even realise that I had places.

So now I’m all tidied up, washed up and finished I can do what I need to do and then go to bed

But talking about Québec reminds me of the two guys living in Trois Rivières where there’s that great big sundial on the side of the church tower.
"What time is it?" asked one of the guys
"No idea" replied his friend
"Go and look at the Sundial then"
"Don’t be silly" replied the guy. "It’s dark outside"
"Well" said his friend. "Take a torch with you!"

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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’"

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