… coming out of the UK is that you can’t be prosecuted for implying that someone is a coconut.

It was news to me that you could, and if you think that it’s a joke, as I did when I was told, I can assure you that IT’S PERFECTLY TRUE. Someone was prosecuted for implying that someone was a coconut.

The interesting part about this is that it wasn’t the “victims” of the “insult” – the then-Prime Minister and the then-Home Secretary – who made the complaint, but a third party who was offended that that the two people concerned were so attacked.

The implications of this are quite frightening. If cases like this can be brought in re, it means that there doesn’t have to be any proof of offence. It just has to “appear to the judge that …”

Not only that, I can only think of countries like North Korea, Saudi Arabia and Thailand where it’s an offence to make any criticism of the ruler. And that looks just like what is happening in the UK right now.

Really, when I think of some of the names that I have been called in the past and none of you lot have rallied to my defence and lodged a prosecution, I would have been happy to have been called a coconut instead.

As yet, as far as I’m aware, no-one as yet has been prosecuted for calling someone a banana. But wait until someone calls the current incumbent of the Prime Minister’s office a lemon. Then we’ll see some legislation.

In East Germany years ago they had an approved list of insults. And, for example, it was against the law to refer to “Americans” without using the adjective “degenerate” or to refer to the British people without using the adjective “servile lackey running-dog”.

So is the UK going to go down the East German route and publish an approved list of fruit?

Years ago I spent a lot of time behind the Iron Curtain with its strict and invasive border controls, and how the West spent 35 years trying to persuade the Eastern bloc to dismantle its controls. And 30 years later we have controls at western borders that are far stricter than anything that I ever encountered in the East.

And the west spent 35 years trying to persuade the East Germans to demolish a border wall, and then 30 years later the Americans build their own.

And now we have people prosecuted for calling our leaders in the West a fruit … "are you allowed to use that word?" – ed …

The West is becoming more and more like the Old East every day and one of these days I’ll finally after all this time hear someone in the West (apart from me) admit that maybe the Soviets had a point.

Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment I finally made it to bed before 23:00 last night.

And it was just as well too because I was exhausted. I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow and apart from the odd bit of tossing and turning I slept right through until the alarm went off.

At the first raucous rattle I staggered to my feet and when the bedroom stopped spinning round I headed for the bathroom to sort myself out

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what went on during the night. While I was asleep a voice said “are you into …?” and stopped there. I asked “into what?” but of course no-one replied. But there was something going on about the army again. I’d taken some kind of food mixture and assembled it to make some kind of pudding and taken it in what would have been a third of my work to somewhere where this dream paused and I fell asleep. But I had this altercation and I’ve no idea what’s going on here but here I am regarding a couple of railway locomotives somewhere on the edge of town outside Scotland, a strange man asking me strange questions but as far as I can see there’s no-one about at all, in the street, in the shops anywhere. It’s totally deserted

That sounds as if it might have been really exciting and it’s a shame that it didn’t continue because I would have loved to have learned more about what was supposed to have been happening here. Who the man was, what he was saying and what he was meaning, that was bizarre too. But I definitely heard him quite distinctly.

Since he and his mates have moved out of their headquarters at 2011 he’s not really had a base to work from. Places always being obstructed by something or other but here where they are now it seems to be their home for good and they are pretty permanently installed. All the local village tribes are taunting them out and trying to make them come out and attack them the same way that the Native Americans did to Fetterman and his mates

It looks as if I’ve missed off the start of this dream or else it refers to another dream at some time. I’ve noticed that a few times – that a dream that I have seems to refer to one that I had a few days earlier. But then this is the point of this exercise anyway.

I was somewhere in North America and had been given a job. I had to write out the different types of driving licence, different types of vehicle and the type of licence that you need to drive each type of vehicle. There was a group of people around there and some guy was giving me instructions and another guy, he’d already made a start and said “it should take four seconds for each entry”. I thought “what planet is he living on?”. When he dictated what he’d been writing it was much longer than four seconds for a start. Eventually everyone cleared off . There was just a girl and me left behind. She ws doing something there similar. I sat down and made a start. It was much more complicated than I imagined and took much longer than four seconds for each entry. She kept on coming up with small problems in the work that she was doing, stopping asking me for help and advice. I thought “we’re going to be here for ever at this rate doing this. Nothing like four seconds per entry at all”. There was someone in fact who was a famous Creole restauranteur person who’d imported cookery into the USA. I had to write a little biography about him and how he was killed, and someone else with their Harley Davidson motor cycle. It was the kind of thing that was taking for ever. I could understand why no-one else wanted to do it.

30 or 40 years ago I would have welcomed the opportunity to go to work in the USA and in fact in 1998 I was on the shortlist to fill a vacancy at the New York office. But these days it seems that a monster has been let loose. 20 or so years ago someone opened Pandora’s Box over there and now they can’t fit the lid back on.

The nurse came around later and we had an exciting conversation.
"Which do you think is more effective?" I asked. "The anaesthetic cream or the patches?"
"You’ll find the patches easier to apply" he said
"That’s not what I asked" I retorted. "Which is more effective?"
"The patches will be easier for you to apply" he replied

And so we went on, getting absolutely nowhere.

Then he cleared off, left me on my own and I made breakfast.

My book is talking this morning about the Traprain Hoard, how the latest coin in there has been dated to AD425 and how there are religious relics in there that bear all the identity of having come from Gaul.

The speculation is that it’s loot from a pirate raid on a church in Gaul, but that seems totally bizarre to me. Why go all the way there at all kinds of risks?

AD425 corresponds very well with the collapse of organised proto-Roman society in the north of England and so my theory is that someone, maybe a Roman soldier, brought the religious relics from Gaul when he was transferred to the north of England, and left behind when the legions were withdrawn in AD410. The undefended north of England then fell victim to a series of raids from the north that destroyed organised society and carried off anything and everything of any value.

Back in here I’ve been radioing today. I’ve written all of the notes for the music that I chose yesterday. I’ll dictate that on Saturday night and edit it on Sunday in between all of the baking that I need to do.

As well as that, I’ve been doing some work on my Jersey notes, trying to tie them in with the relevant photos and write some text. I need to get back into all of the good habits that I used to have 20 years ago

Another thing that I did was to try to arrange some physiotherapy. My preferred place won’t take me because the taxi wouldn’t be authorised to take me there, but the one that I tried that was within the authorised range never returned my calls.

And that’s not the first time that I’ve tried to spend money somewhere and no-one seems to be bothered enough to want to earn it.

My cleaner came round too to do her stuff and the place now looks as if someone lives here. It’s nice when it’s clean and tidy, and it’s a shame that I have to go to spoil it.

Tea tonight was another delicious leftover curry with naan bread and I ought to make this more often because it’s really nice, especially when there’s some soya yoghurt mixed in with the curry.

So I’m off to bed, where someone is bound to call me the name of a fruit during the night. Rather like when I first came to France on a school exchange in 1970 we Brits were described by the locals as les Rosbifs – “the roast beef” – and no-one was in the least bit offended.
"Do you call us that because we’re strong, muscular and tough?" I asked in all innocence
"Ohh no" came the reply. "You want to look at yourselves after you’ve been lying in the sun for half an hour"