Tag Archives: vegan chocolate cake

Monday 13th April 2026 – THIS EVENING, I …

… have had my first cooked evening meal for almost two weeks. And about time too, because one or two things in the fridge and vegetable drawer are beginning to look rather fruity, and I see that I shall probably have a good clear-out at some point soon. I hate throwing food away, but sometimes, keeping stuff like that goes beyond a joke.

And actually, I was looking forward to a hot meal too. After my chocolate cake and home-made ice cream last night, I was definitely feeling hungry. But I resisted the temptation until after dialysis this afternoon.

Instead, I came back in here to write up my notes and do everything else that I have to do. However, I still managed to run rather late and it was 22:00 or maybe a little later that I finally crawled into bed.

Not that I slept all the way through to the alarm, though. I awoke at one point for the usual reason and had to leave the bed. Not that I’m complaining, because all of this keeps the weight down for dialysis. I’ve no idea what time it was either. I didn’t look and I didn’t care.

Once back in bed, though, I slept right the way through to the alarm, which probably did me a world of good.

When the alarm finally went off, it took the usual struggle for me to rise to my feet and wander off to the bathroom, and what with having a shave too, I was late going into the kitchen. Never mind though, my usual glass of hot lemon, ginger and honey has been replaced on Dialysis Day with just a small mouthful of water. As I said just now, keeping my weight down for dialysis is the most important thing at the moment.

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

There was something about a young male ballet dancer who had begun to dance with a troupe and there were a lot of high expectations placed upon him, but as time went by, he didn’t fulfil those expectations and drifted off into a sort of middle range of professionalism. He ended up at one point at Y Fflint, where the music hall director was in despair about his inability to try to represent the sound on a computer, but they needed to keep the sound whilst trying to … fell asleep here …

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I’m actually asleep when I’m dictating. But what happens at times like this is that I suddenly go silent and then you can hear the heavy breathing as I fall into a deeper sleep.

As for the dream itself, it means nothing to me. Y Fflint probably relates to the Welsh Cup Final on Sunday but nothing else seems to go anywhere. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I just type out whatever is on the dictaphone. If there ever is any editing, it’s just for things like grammar and so on and has nothing to do with the content. If the content is too gruesome for delicate ears, I don’t print it but put a little note in there instead.

The nurse turned up as usual, full of happiness and joy because he’s off on his week’s break this evening. We had a chat about dialysis, seeing as he was formerly a nurse in a dialysis clinic, and then he left to continue his rounds.

Once he’d gone, I could make breakfast and read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Our author is off on his hasty “speculations and conclusions” again.

We’re talking about Roman roads, and today he tells us that "two imperfect itineraries, giving us the names and distances from each other of the towns and stations on the principal military roads, have been preserved; the first is contained in the great Itinerarium of the Roman Empire, which goes under the name of Antoninus and is believed to have been compiled about AD 320. The other is contained in the work of Richard of Cirencester and is supposed to have been copied by a monk of the fourteenth century from an older itinerary or map. They differ a little from each other, but our faith in Richard’s itinerary is strengthened by the circumstance that nearly all the roads he gives which are not in Antoninus have been ascertained to exist."

In fact, the work of “Richard of Cirencester” has been proved for almost 200 years to be a pure fabrication, created in about 1750 AD, based on the Antonine Itinerary and its author’s rather fertile imagination.

He continues by saying that Ermine Street "proceeded in a direct line to Durolipons, the site of which is fixed without doubt at Godmanchester", whereas all the evidence today points to it being the site of Cambridge.

Back in here, I had a radio programme to check before I sent it off. And it’s a good job that it did because it needed a little tweaking. And then I could press on with reviewing my Welsh, because the lessons start up again tomorrow.

My cleaner turned up as usual to apply my anaesthetic, and then I had to wait for the taxi. but not too long, because he was early today.

We had two other people to pick up en route but even so, I arrived at dialysis early. Even luckier, I didn’t have to wait too long to be plugged in either. The fact that it’s the thirteenth and that I was put into bed thirteen has proved to be lucky for me.

And the luck continued too. My weight was down to such an extent that there was nothing to remove. Nevertheless, I persuaded the nurse to take out 500 grammes just for form’s sake.

After she left and went off to another patient, the doctor came along before she had the chance to talk to him about my weight. So he looked at the chart and simply, with no further enquiry, also increased the debit by another 500 grammes. I, of course, said nothing.

Before he left, he gave me my usual three-monthly lecture about chatting up the nurses, but what do I care? I’m far too old to change my habits now. And I don’t care if he reads this either.

During the session, I was left pretty much alone, which suits me fine. But I had a lovely chat with the nurse who came to unplug me. And when I weighed myself, I found myself to be at the lowest weight at which I’ve been for thirty years, when I used to go running around the streets of Brussels late at night.

And my luck continued. It was my favourite taxi driver who came to pick me up, and as we were on our own, we had a good chat about cats all the way home.

My cleaner was waiting for me when we arrived and she helped me back into the apartment. I was feeling a little light-headed after this dialysis session today.

Back in here, after she left, I had a baked potato with cheese and veg, followed by chocolate cake and home-made ice cream. Not too much, because I need to break myself into eating again after all of this time. I’d be really ill if I tried a binge session, rather like one of the Donner Party of emigrants who, after being stranded in a snowdrift for six months, upon rescue, ate to death, quite literally.

So right now, I’m off to bed for a good night’s sleep before my lesson tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the contents of my dreams … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of a famous exchange that took place between Doctor Finlay and his faithful servant Janet in Dr Kenlay’s Feesbook or whatever it was called back in the 1960s.
"Ohhh Doctor Finlay: It’s gruesome."
"Och aye, Janet. Look again. it’s gruesome more."

Sunday 12th April 2026 – SO FAR, I HAVE …

… managed to avoid falling asleep today.

However, that’s not such a big deal today, because when you don’t wake up until about 09:00 and you don’t leave the bed until about 09:40, there isn’t much time to fall asleep afterwards.

In fact, you might say that I spent twelve hours in bed last night and, believe me, I enjoyed every minute of it. I didn’t actually, to my shame, rush through everything last night – it was something more like a leisurely stroll – and by the time that I’d finished the notes, the stats and the back-up, and then gone to sort myself out in the bathroom, it was just coming up to 21:30.

How long I spent in the bathroom, I didn’t record, but it wasn’t all that long and I was soon in bed, tucked up under the quilt.

And there I stayed until … errr … 03:55, when I had to go walking the parapet, and then back in bed, I slept until 07:05. However, I managed to go back to sleep quite quickly, and there I lay until the nurse awoke me. And that first sleep was not far short of six and a half hours, and it’s the best sleep that I’ve had for ages.

The nurse was having another good moan at me this morning. He was complaining that I hadn’t pulled the curtains. Well, much as I love the dark, seriously, I love the light too so I’m happy in the morning with the sunlight creeping around the edges of the shutters in here. He thinks that I ought to be in a perfect state of darkness in here while I’m asleep.

Once he left, I tried to go back to sleep but without success. And Alison made up my mind for me when she sent me a text message. Trying to reply when you have your head and your ‘phone down under the quilt is not easy, believe me, and when you drop the ‘phone on the floor and the message turns into a load of gibberish that sends itself, it’s even less easy than that.

With all of that going on, I decided to leave the bed, although it took me a good twenty minutes to find the enthusiasm and the energy to stand up. But once I was up, I headed off into the bathroom to sort myself out.

Back in the kitchen afterwards, where I forgot to take my medication, I baked my croissants, and they turned out really well. I was so impressed, especially as I was using some of the cheap pastry rolls.

So, with two of my croissants, some porridge and some hot black coffee, I sat down to read some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

And here we go again. In a footnote on page 115, he launches another attack on one of his predecessors, Thomas Stukeley, saying "The antiquary Stukeley published a “Medallic History of Carausius”, which, although it displays too much of that writer’s hasty speculations and conclusions, shows us with how much advantage the coins might be made to illustrate the history."

Whilst he’s not wrong about the coins illustrating the history, as we have seen before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … the phrase “the writer’s hasty speculations and conclusions” reminds me of a well-known phrase involving a pot and a kettle.

After breakfast, I came back in here to transcribe the dictaphone notes.

There was some kind of civic centre opened in a local town. It had a huge ballroom-type of place, meeting room or whatever and there was a small annexe that had a licence for fifty people. Someone had applied to hire the smaller room for a birthday party and had sent in a list of fifty people who would be attending. However, the local council was dithering about this because they were thinking that whilst a couple of people on this list might not turn up, a couple of other people might turn up unannounced and take the attendance to over fifty, in which case there would be all kinds of legal issues, so they were still dithering about this for ages.

We were actually talking yesterday about people turning up uninvited to funerals and weddings. It’s strange how these things come round so quickly. And, of course, fire regulations, particularly in the UK, are such that there is a genuine fear of being found over the limit for the room. And when you see the size of the fines, no wonder people are rather nervous

I was staying with Bob Dylan last night. We were at his house, which was overlooking one of the lakes in either Vermont or New Hampshire. It was a very steep climb up to the front door and the garden was filled with flowers. We were sitting on a kind of terrace, and the way to go back to the front door was to go down, across and back up again, but he went inching his way along the edge of one of the flower beds, which looked extremely dangerous to me. He came back with a plate of cold baked beans. I asked him about why he preferred them cold instead of hot, but he didn’t really answer. Then, he said a little later that we had to go into town for something so I went into the house to put on my shoes. However, every couple of minutes, there was some kind of interruption, and there were lots of things that I had to do. Each time that I tried to put on my shoes, there was something else, but in the end, I managed to put on my shoes. Then, the story skipped and it was about a musician in a group who also played for Y Bala. He had mysteriously disappeared and no-one knew where he was. The police report said something that he had been living in a two-bedroomed terrace but he had seen something that had dragged him out, and no-one knew what that something was. He’d gone to follow it but hadn’t returned. Later on, back at Bob Dylan’s house, he was having an evening with his friends. There were three of his friends there and the father of this missing musician, footballer or whatever. They were all eating mashed potato and baked beans that were cold.

Actually, this looked much more like one of the lakes in northeast Maine to me, a region that we have visited ON NUMEROUS OCCASIONS.

But the cold baked beans are interesting, especially if they are American ones, packed full of sugar and additives. They must be disgusting. Even the “British recipe” baked beans don’t taste the same as they do back in the UK. I can’t recall whether a musician ever played for Y Bala, but Ywain Gwynedd had a long and successful career in the old Cymru Alliance League, mainly for Porthmadog FC.

With all of these interruptions while I was trying to put on my shoes, I’m surprised that a member of my family didn’t turn up. The odds would have been nailed on that they would have been involved somehow with all of that.

After that, I had a few things to do and then I recommenced the editing of the radio notes from where I had fallen asleep yesterday.

Not that I advanced very far because the girls arrived to say goodbye. We had a little chat and then an exchange of presents before they pushed off to catch their train for a girly evening in Paris. It was really nice of them to come to see me, and I appreciated it very much. I hope that they come again soon, and stay for longer.

Once they had left, I carried on with the editing, and the programme is now finished. It’s not very good at all, but given the circumstances that surrounded this concert, it’s lucky that there is a tape recording at all. Its value is in its rarity – it’s probably never been broadcast on the radio previously.

By now, it was time for the football. I’d already seen Stranraer beat Spartans 2-1 away from home and Greenock Morton lose away at Kirkaldy against Raith Rovers earlier this afternoon, but now it was the Welsh Cup Final between Caernarfon and Y Fflint. And for seventy minutes, we had one of the most exciting games that I have seen recently.

It’s a pity, though, that Y Fflint didn’t wake up until the twentieth minute, because the match was all over by then. Caernarfon had roared into a 3-0 lead while Y Fflint were still sleeping.

But as I implied just now, after that Y Fflint made a game of it and had several chances to score, but it was all too late and the score remained the same until the final whistle.

There were a few things to do after that, and then it was time for tea. Just chocolate cake and home-made ice cream again. That will do me for this evening, and now, when I’ve finished everything, I’m going for an early night.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about walking the parapet … "well, one of us has" – ed … someone once asked me "you know how we say ‘spend a penny’ to say that we are going to the bathroom"
"Yes?" I replied.
"So what do you say in Europe?"
"Simple" I replied. "We say that we are going to euronate."

Friday 10th April 2026 – I HAVE HAD …

… a lovely early evening just now. Two of my friends, Alison and Jackie, have dropped in to see me for a chat. They decided to have a weekend away and so they have come down here to see me, which is really nice. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I don’t see my friends half as often as I would like to.

It certainly breaks up my miserable routine, which never seems to change from one week to the next. I seem to be doing the same old things week after week after week after week, basically because I don’t have anything else to do with my life.

Like last night, for instance. I had my chocolate cake and home-made ice cream at 19:30 and was back in here by 19:50, when I began to write out my notes for the day. There were the usual things to do afterwards, such as to take the stats and to back up the computer, and after I’d been to the bathroom to sort myself out ready for bed, it was a mere 21:20 when I crawled underneath the covers.

That’s what I call an early night, but it didn’t do me much good. Even though I was asleep quite quickly, regular readers of this rubbish will recall what happens next at times like these. At 01:20 or thereabouts, I was wide awake again, and I had to leave the bed, for the usual reasons that any man my age will understand.

Back in bed, it was another session of tossing and turning, dozing, sleeping and so on. I couldn’t settle down at all.

When the alarm went off at 06:29 though, I was fast asleep, and I wished that I could have stayed like that. However, I was having coughing fits like I had never had before, I had a streaming head cold that I’d caught from somewhere, and despite the painkiller that I’d taken last night, the pain in my right foot was killing me.

Eventually, I managed to struggle into the bathroom and sort myself out, and then I went into the kitchen for my hot drink and medication. And one of the tablets that I took was another painkiller because I could no longer stand the pain.

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

I was reading the Bible last night. And while there were plenty of obsolete words in there that had either been removed or been changed to represent the actual occurrences of the time, the language was generally left quite basic. It was one of those things that, the way that it was left and the way that the voices were speaking, it was almost as if it was threatening me with violence on my way home that night from dialysis – it wasn’t dialysis – it was teaching that I was doing.

This is another one of those dreams of which I have no recollection at all. It certainly wouldn’t be anything like me, going teaching for a living. I don’t have the patience.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I’m asleep when I’m dictating, but I usually have some very vague memory of the dream when I’m transcribing the notes. However, this one wasn’t one of those at all.

When the alarm went off, I was busy editing a very long speech, about three different copies of what had been said. I was trying to go through them to sort them out and see where the common threads were at first. What I was doing when the alarm went off was that I was actually spell-checking the documents to make sure that there were no spelling errors in them before I started to copy and paste them.

Three different copies of what had been said in a recent speech by someone. I remember from the dream that two had been digitalised but the third one had been handwritten, which made things much more complicated.

The nurse turned up as usual. He’s trying his best to make me change my lifestyle, but I am resisting valiantly. He also thinks that painkillers are a waste of time, and I don’t necessarily disagree with him. He knows of many cases where they don’t seem to work, and, as it happens, so do I.

After he left, I had my breakfast to make, and some more of THE CELT, THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright to read.

And right now, I’m becoming fed up of Thomas Wright and his “likely assumptions”, and I’ve only read about 15% of his book. Up to the present, he’s certain that the hillforts are of Saxon origin, that all bronze artefacts found by archaeologists are Roman and not from the Bronze Age, 1000 – 2500 years previously, and that the monuments like Stonehenge are Celtic, probably concurrent with the Roman occupation, rather than built by Neolithic farmers some 3500 years earlier.

There are still 480 pages to go, so I wonder what other “likely assumptions” he’s going to make before we reach the end.

Back in here, I had a few things to do, but by now, the painkiller was beginning to have an effect, and I ended up drifting away to sleep for a couple of hours. I really didn’t need that.

While I was having a little doze this morning, I was editing songs, trying to make up a radio programme and having to decide which ones to include, which ones to exclude and whether any would need shortening or lengthening.

That just sounds like a normal day in this apartment – nothing new in this.

When I awoke, it took me half an hour to get to grips with myself and then I had those things to finish off.

Once they were done, I could turn my attention to another lot of radio notes that needed editing. And fighting off (sometimes unsuccessfully) wave after wave of sleep, I edited the notes, assembled the two halves of the radio programme, chose the joining track and prepared it, and wrote the notes for it, ready for dictation.

There was even time to edit the notes for a subsequent concert, and I could have prepared a full radio programme by doing so, but the more editing I did, the less I liked the result. I’d dictated it a couple of weekends ago when I had another stinking head cold, and it sounded as if I were dictating with my head in a bucket.

No matter what I tried to adjust the sound, it only seemed to make it worse. In the end, I chucked it into the bin and decided to re-dictate the notes when I’m feeling better, whenever that might be.

At this point I knocked off because my visitors arrived. My cleaner had been around to do her stuff earlier, so everywhere was looking quite nice and tidy. My friends had brought me some presents too – a book of photos from their last trip last August and, most importantly, some ground cumin from one of the Leuven spice shops. The French spices are nothing like as strong as the genuine Indian product.

We had a lovely chat for an hour or so, and then they wandered off for a meal. I had some of my chocolate cake and home-made ice cream, and that’s my tea for tonight.

Back in here, I wrote up my notes, and now I have a few other things to do before I can have another early night, hoping that tonight, I’ll FINALLY have a really good night’s sleep.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Stonehenge … "well, one of us has" – ed … I was talking ages ago to a small girl about Stonehenge
"These stones are really old, you know. They go back a very, very long time" I said.
"How old are they?" she asked.
"Nobody knows for sure" I replied. "They are really ancient stones and go back to a time before people could write and tell the date."
"Oh, I see" she replied. "Are they Mick Jagger and Keith Richards then?"

Thursday 9th April 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone again this morning. But that’s no real surprise.

Last night, I’d finished my chocolate cake and ice cream really early, so I came back in here and didn’t hang about. I raced through my notes and everything else that I needed to do, and I was in bed not many minutes after 21:30. And I didn’t need much rocking either. I was asleep quite quickly.

However, regular readers of this rubbish will recall what usually happens on nights like this. And even so, 00:30 was rather ridiculous. It’s also a fact that I didn’t go back to sleep either. I lay there, curled up under the quilt, trying my best to go back to sleep or, at least, stay nice, warm and comfortable.

Eventually, I said “sod it” and prepared to leave the bed to do some work, but it was 06:20 by then so there wasn’t really much point. Nevertheless, I had my feet on the ground when the alarm went off, so it counts as an early start – only just.

Having my feet on the ground is one thing – having them moving in the direction of the bathroom is quite another thing. And when I was eventually in the bathroom, I forgot to have a shave.

It was late when I finally made it into the kitchen for my medication, and I made an executive decision – that is, a decision where if it’s the wrong one, the person who made it is executed.

The decision was that I wasn’t going to have a hot drink this morning. With dialysis looming this afternoon and not knowing what will happen, I just had a mouthful of cold water to wash down my medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone but to my dismay, there was nothing on there from last night. But with a sleep of just about three hours, what was I expecting?

The nurse was early today. He was wondering why I don’t stay in here to have my feet attended to, to which my reply was that I need to eat my breakfast afterwards so I may as well be at the kitchen table.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of THE CELT THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today we have finally begun to talk about the Celts in the pre-Roman days. But for how long, I don’t know. But he’s another one of these Victorian “experts” who attribute the various hillforts to the Saxons rather than the Neolithic people. He’s not quite so far out with Stonehenge, to which he attributes the Celts rather than, again, the Neolithic people.

In fact, in a most unprofessional manner, he ridicules the early nineteenth-century archaeologist Colt Hoare for daring to suggest that those constructions date to that earlier period.

Back in here, I finished off a few things and then turned my attention to the radio notes. It only took an hour or so to finish them off too. After that, I went to the bathroom for a shave and then came back in here to do one or two other things. That included reading the surprising news that Colwun Bay, Y Bala and Trefynnon have been refused a licence to play in the JD Cymru League next season. The clubs have six days to put right the shortcomings or else they will be in the Cymru North next season.

That would mean that the JD Cymru League would only run with fifteen teams next season instead of sixteen, or even fourteen if Caerau Trelai, currently in fourth position in the Cymru South and who was also refused a licence, finishes the season in one of the promotion places.

My faithful cleaner turned up as usual to apply my anaesthetic, and then I had to wait for the taxi to come for me. It was ten minutes late coming for me but seeing as I was the only passenger today, we soon made up the time and I was even early arriving.

And for a change, I didn’t have to wait too long to be plugged in. But it was one of these connections that seemed to take a lot longer than it ought.

And as for my weight, for the second time in succession, I clocked in at under my dry weight. Nevertheless, I let them take out 500 grammes. I was hoping that they’d take out more but after a discussion with the doctor, 500 grammes was the best that they would do.

They wouldn’t leave me alone either today. The nurses kept on coming by to do this and to do that, almost as if they were keeping a close eye on me. It wasn’t until right near the end that they relaxed their vigilance and I could close my eyes for fifteen minutes.

While I was asleep at dialysis, I was off to Crewe town centre – Boots Corner in Market Street, to be precise. I grabbed hold of a girl – I don’t know if I knew her – and we ran hand-in-hand over to my pushbike which was chained up at the side of Boots. I undid the chain, and then I gave her a “croggy” all the way up Market Street and Edleston Road to Nantwich Road. But then, I ended up making sandwiches, with cheese, lettuce, tomato and a few other salad things.

All of that takes me back many years. It’s been years since I rode a pushbike, and years too since Boots moved from Boots Corner to a modern shop somewhere else in the town.

By the time that I was ready to be unplugged, so was everyone else, so guess who was last. However, at least it was one of my favourite nurses so I didn’t complain.

The taxi driver was waiting for me already when I was ready so I didn’t have to wait, and on weighing myself upon leaving, I was below my ideal non-active weight. At long last. I hope that I can keep it up … "or down" – ed …

When we went outside, I could hear the birds singing. That’s the first time this year. It reminded me of being back in the Auvergne and I felt terribly nostalgic.

We were no earlier arriving back here, and my cleaner helped me back into the apartment. And I needed it too because the wind had sprung up since I’d left.

Once she had left, I had my tea – just chocolate cake and home-made ice cream. I’m determined to keep on with this for as long as I can.

So right now, nice and early, I’m off to bed. And one of these days, I might actually have a good sleep. But probably not tonight, if it’s anything like the last few nights.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the birds singing … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of my friends once asked me if I used to hear them when I lived in Crewe.
"Ohh yes" I replied. "Every evening in Spring, round about 18:00, I’d go outside and listen to them."
"Singing?"
"No. Coughing."

Wednesday 8th April 2026 – AND YET ANOTHER …

… night when I’m going to bed without any tea, apart, of course, from my wonderful chocolate cake and my delicious home-made ice cream.

Another early night is on the cards … "he hopes" – ed … and a better sleep tonight than I had last night … "ditto" – ed …

Yesterday, I’d finished my cake round about 20:00, and I came straight back in here and began to write out my notes. By the time I’d finished, done everything else that I needed to do and crawled into bed, it was a mere 21:45, and that’s good going.

Once in bed, I went to sleep quickly and there I lay, flat out, until all of … errr … 22:57. That’s what I call a long sleep!

After that, we had a continual bout of tossing and turning, dozing off, waking up and all that kind of thing until the alarm went off at 06:29. At that point, I must have been asleep but nevertheless, it was a huge disappointment, last night, except for the fact that I didn’t have to leave the bed for once during the night.

When the alarm went off, for some strange reason, it didn’t take as long as usual to rise up from the bed and head off into the bathroom to sort myself out. And then into the kitchen for my hot drink and medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out what had gone on during the night, and I was astonished that there had been so much.

This dream involved a couple of kids, about eleven or twelve years old. They were being compared against other people but that’s really all that I remember about this dream at the moment. It’s one of these that evaporated as soon as I reached for the dictaphone.

This is another one of those dreams that seems to have no meaning at all. But wouldn’t it have been nice to have remembered the rest of it to find out to what it relates?

There was something about a rock group remixing some of its songs. They’d gone back into a previous album, selected a song and they wanted to put snippets of this into appropriate places on their new album so they sent a copy of their album and a copy of the track from the previous album. They put it in one big black plastic bag inside another and took it round to the guy’s house in Flag Lane who was going to remix it. But when they came to play back the result a few days later, it had all the wrong soundbytes in from a completely different song so they wanted it doing again. They had to threaten this guy in Flag Lane – it wasn’t Flag Lane, it was Wistaston Road – they had to threaten this guy in Wistaston Road with legal action for breaching the copyright in order for him to redo the task, this time with the correct song sliced up and pasted in.

There’s an interesting story about the Flag Lane – Wistaston Road area of Crewe but the World is not yet ready to hear it. And there is a recording studio involved in it somewhere too. However, it had nothing whatever to do with the subject of this dream.

Later on, there was something going on in a bakery. There were a few people there, and there was a guy there who was moving all of the stuff around. He picked up several large trays at the time and hoisted them over his shoulder. But one tray began to slide off and I immediately reached out to grab it as it fell, and I ended up grabbing the hoof of STRAWBERRY MOOSE instead.

This actually did happen last night too. I remember the tray of bread starting to fall and I did reach out to grab it. Then I awoke and found that I was actually holding a hoof of His Nibs. How bizarre!

There had also been a lot of discussion about the prefix “an-” and what it actually meant. It occurs quite regularly in Welsh in words such as anrhegion and we had to try to work out its meaning and think of other words that began with it. In the end, after a lot of calculating around and trying to work out things, we came to the conclusion that it actually meant “to” and that was what it was supposed to mean.

When I was dreaming this, I was actually in Flag Lane looking down the slope towards the traffic lights on Wistaston Road. That was bizarre too.

However, “an” as a prefix actually means the negative of a word that doesn’t have it, i.e. – onest = honest, anonest = dishonest, gwybodus = knowledgeable, anwybodus = ignorant. The exercises with prefixes and so on are things that we have to do regularly in our Welsh course.

There was another short dream about my class at school, and it really was my class at school. We were in one of the new laboratories, working on some kind of project for our school exam. However, it just seemed to fade away at that point. I remember that there was one of the girls there, holding some chemical product in some kind of large eye-glass … "he means “watch glass”" – ed … but that’s about everything.

This is happening far too often these days, dreams evaporating while I’m reaching for the dictaphone. And it’s getting on my nerves. I would love to know how they all end.

I was working in an Italian restaurant somewhere in Birmingham and I had to tell them that I was going to have to leave because my full-time job had transferred me to Shrewsbury. We’d set the restaurant out for the night but it started really slowly and we didn’t have a client for quite some time. I remember someone walking up to the restaurant – he looked very official – and he looked at me and my colleague who were waiting outside, shook his head and walked away again. Some people then turned up and went inside and went to sit in the garden to have their meal, which I thought was strange because it was cold. But we were talking about lights and light fittings. Someone in the area was making something out of lights and had used over three hundred tacks to hold the lights in. I said that if I’d put up the fairy lights that were in the back of the restaurant and in the garden, I’d have probably used about half a dozen. Then I noticed that in the annexe across the road, a girl walked in. I went in with the menus to see her, and it was someone whom I knew from years ago, but I couldn’t think of her name, but she looked a lot better now than she did back in those days. I asked her how she was, and she replied that she was alright. I replied, jokingly, “yes, I know that, but how are you really?” because I seem to remember that she was ill at one time. I gave her the menu but she didn’t seem to want it. She just wrote down what she wanted, and things for three other people too. I asked “don’t they have any choice?”, and she smiled. I took the order over to the restaurant. They were having an argument in the kitchen about the lack of business and how they were going to have to close. I gave them the receipt and said “well, here’s another thirty quid’s worth for you for tonight”.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that one winter when I was looking for work, I went down to London and ended up living in Wandsworth where I worked in the day driving a school bus for the local council and in the evenings and weekends in an Italian restaurant. That work in the restaurant was probably the hardest work that I have ever done, but I enjoyed it immensely and I’d do it again if I had the chance.

As for the girl in the story, I do know who she is but I just can’t think of her name. And she certainly did look better than she did when I knew her for real.

The nurse turned up as usual and we had a little chat, but he didn’t stay long and was soon off on his rounds. I could make breakfast and carry on reading THE CELT THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

Today, we’ve been discussing the campaign of Suetonius Paulinus in North Wales, followed by the revolt of Boudicca and its consequent suppression. One thing that stands out from this is that the brutality and cruelty committed by both sides were appalling, and with the savage treatment of the locals by the Romans, it’s no wonder that they were quite often in rebellion.

Back in here, there were things to do and then later on, I attacked this confounded radio programme.

What with one thing or another, I lost count of how many blind alleys I’d run up while I was trying my best to track down the music that I need. Eventually though, with what I already had on hand and what I’d managed to find, I ended up with just about enough music to make a programme. I’m not very happy with it, but there’s no other choice.

Anyway, all the music is remixed, re-edited, paired and segued, and I’ve even begun to write the notes for it. I could actually have finished the notes except that later in the afternoon, I crashed out. And it was a major one too – I was away with the fairies – although not in any fashion that would have excited comment from the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine – for about two hours. I was totally wasted and that’s another reason why I’m off to bed with no tea.

And that means “right now” because I’ve had enough for today. As I said just now, my chocolate cake and ice cream was delicious and just the job to round off a day of hard work. Tomorrow, I have dialysis, and I wish that I hadn’t. But there’s nothing that I can do about it.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about a bakery … "well, one of us has" – ed … I once knew a girl who worked in a bakery.
"What was she like?" asked a friend of mine.
"At first, I thought she was well-bred" I replied. "But once I’d known her for a while, I came to the conclusion that she was half-baked."

Tuesday 7th March 2026 – AND YET ANOTHER …

… night when I’ll be going to bed without any tea other than chocolate cake and some of the new batch of home-made chocolate ice cream.

And while I’m at it, I shall be hoping for a better night than the near-catastrophe that was last night, when I was so looking forward to a good sleep.

After coming back in here after my cake and ice cream last night, I wrote out my notes, did what else I had to do and then made ready to climb into bed. And by the time that I was tucked up in bed with my head stuck under the quilt, it was just a minute or so after 22:00.

And there I stayed, as snug as a bug in a rug, until all of … errr … 00:45.

At that point, I had to leave the bed for what seems to be the usual reason these days, but back in bed afterwards, I couldn’t go back to sleep, no matter how I tried. I definitely remember seeing 03:00 come around on the clock. I’m not sure what happened after that, but one thing that I do know is that when the alarm went off at 06:29, I was definitely asleep. And I wish that I’d stayed asleep too.

As usual, it was something of a struggle to rise to my feet and to head off into the bathroom. But I managed to sort myself out eventually and head, rather later than usual, into the kitchen for my hot drink and medication.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And it was, yet again, something of a disappointment.

There was a book publisher in Wales last night. His company was reviewing a whole pile of books in Welsh that had been written by Welsh musicians and was awarding some kind of prize for the best. He’d collected ever so many and read most of them. Some had been eliminated, but there were four left and they would find one more out of the ones they hadn’t read. But there was controversy over one of the four because apparently the author’s viewpoint was not that of everyone else. Some people felt that it was the wrong decision to include this, whereas others were in favour of free speech and the quality of the work rather than the quality of the opinions.

There are dozens and dozens of these sportsmen’s books written by ghostwriters “on behalf of” famous football players etc., but usually these days, they aren’t worth the paper on which they are written. And I’ve never heard of any written in the Welsh language except for one by that rugby referee Nigel Owens.

As for the dream itself, I’ve no idea from where it has come, because nothing about it rings a bell with me.

The nurse turned up after his week’s rest, telling me all about his week off and the home maintenance and cleaning that he did.

After he left, I made breakfast, back to banal toast again, and started my new book. It’s called THE CELT THE ROMAN and THE SAXON by Thomas Wright.

It’s uncertain why “The Celt” is included in the title, because it only mentions them briefly in passing, and then almost always in relation to the Romans. It’s a disappointment on that score. And seeing as the book was written in 1874, a lot of assumptions that Wright makes and conclusions that he draws are now long-outdated, as more-modern discoveries have moved us forward.

Back in here, I had things to do and things to tidy up, and then seeing that there’s no Welsh class today with it being the Easter holidays, I had another look at the radio programme that I started yesterday.

Despite the fact that the edits aren’t so good, I decided to leave it pretty much as it is because editing it will only make it worse. I’ve done one or two little things, but that’s about all. It could be better, but I’m not quite sure how I would do it.

After I’d finished, I sat down and wrote out the notes for it. I needed about one minute and fifty-seven seconds of notes, but without even trying, I managed to make two minutes twenty-eight seconds. I don’t mind being over. I prefer that and have to edit a few things out rather than fall short and have to add things in.

After my disgusting drink break, my faithful cleaner appeared. And the first thing that she did was to shoo me in underneath the shower. So now, I’m a nice, clean boy … "well, clean, anyway" – ed … looking forward … "he hopes" – ed … to a decent sleep tonight.

And the apartment is nice and clean too. I wish that it would stay like that, because I always seem to let it go out of control, and I’m not sure why.

Once she’d gone, I had a few things to do, such as to make a few ‘phone calls, more of which anon, and then I could crack on.

The next radio programme is going to be more complicated than most. It doesn’t feature any musicians (although, of course, there will be music) but a person associated a long time ago with the music industry.

And as he’s still alive, I shall have to be very careful what I say because he was an extremely controversial character back in those days and although a lot has been written about him that is not very pleasant to read, I have yet to find any substantiated sources for much of it.

Finding the music will be complicated too. His company disappeared well over fifty years ago, and the master tapes went with it, so I can’t rely on my “usual sources” to conjure up a hatful of magic. But I have various “connections”, and we shall have to see what they can find for me.

So far, I’ve tracked down a few bits and pieces and, to my surprise, I have some stuff here too, so all is not lost. I’m sure that I can conjure up something.

All of that took me right up to teatime, so I went for chocolate cake with chocolate ice cream. And Bane of Britain forgot to put the mint syrup in with the final forking. It’s probably too late now, regrettably. But never mind – it’s still delicious. Heating up half of the chocolate milk and adding the cornflour worked really well, but what I need to do next time is to start much earlier, heat up all of the milk, add the cornflour to thicken it and then let it cool for half an hour or so.

So right now, I’m off to bed, in the hope that I really will have a good night’s sleep before too long.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about having a shower … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of two girls from Crewe sharing a flat together.
One of them, who is in the shower, shouts to the other one "quick, can you bring me the shampoo?"
The other one replies "but I put it in there an hour or so ago."
"Yes, I know" replied the first girl. "But that’s for dry hair. Mine is sopping wet right now."

Monday 6th March 2026 – I HOPE THAT …

…you all had a very happy Easter and that the Easter Bunny was very generous to you. As for me, I’ve finished all my hot cross buns, regrettably, but I still have plenty of chocolate cake and the new batch of homemade chocolate ice cream to go at.

In fact, the chocolate cake and the last helping of the first batch of home-made ice cream were delicious. And once more, that’s all that I’m having for tea because, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … sleep for me is much more important right now than food. And you know that I’m ill if I’m thinking like that. It’s not like me to turn my back on a good meal.

And sleep I need too, after last night. I was back in here at about 20:30 yesterday evening after clearing up and doing the washing-up, and then I sat down to write my notes.

By the time that I’d finished, done everything else that needed doing and sorted myself out, I was in bed just a minute or two after 22:00, looking for the good night’s sleep and lie-in that I had promised myself.

However, regular readers of this rubbish will recall what happens at times like this. Just like the other night, I had to go to stroll the parapet, and not once but twice. The first time was at 01:20, which seems to be a popular time for me to awaken, and the second time was, would you believe, 06:29 exactly.

The first time, I managed to go back to sleep but the second time, no such luck. I needn’t have bothered trying for a lie-in at all. Nevertheless, I stayed there in bed until the alarm went off at 07:30.

The alarm going off is one thing – leaving the bed is quite something else. And by the time I’d been into the bathroom for a good wash and shave, there wasn’t much time for anything else as Isabelle the Nurse arrived.

She chatted on about nothing in particular, happy because, presumably, she’s off on her week’s break this evening, and after she left, I could make breakfast.

There went my last two delicious hot cross buns this morning, just as did HISTORIA BRITTONUM by Nennius. It didn’t take long to read, and I can’t say that I’m sorry either. I didn’t enjoy it at all. However, the genealogy tables in there were fantastic works of fiction. It seems that every person in Europe is a descendant of Woden, according to Nennius.

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

There was something going on in a recording studio about writing and recording songs relating to certain incidents, such as some old woman who was bedridden and who only used to eat bread, etc. On several occasions, there was a choice of perhaps two or three subjects where people in the studio had to write a song on one of them, but it was all very confusing, all of this. I was asked to write a song on one particular subject, but it was one of those subjects that I couldn’t face so I decided not to

Just recently, I seem to have been spending a lot of time in a recording studio. It’s probably due to all of these radio programmes.

And seeing as we have been talking about radio programmes … "well, one of us has" – ed … after I’d finished the things that I usually have to do in the morning, I reviewed this weekend’s radio programme and sent it off for inclusion in the stream.

With that out of the way, I attacked the next radio programme on the list … "see what he means" – ed … It’s going to be another concert, and once again, the soundtrack is going to be complicated to prepare. I’ve done a “first pass” already but it’s going to be amended on several occasions, I reckon, before it’s ready to go.

My faithful cleaner turned up as usual to apply my anaesthetic, and then I had to await the taxi. I didn’t have to wait long because he was early and caught me unawares while I was … errr … otherwise engaged. However, it was the young, chatty guy and we had a nice, pleasant drive down to Sartilly to pick up someone else on our way to Avranches.

Having set out early, we arrived early at dialysis, but that counts for nothing if you arrive at the same time as four others just ahead of you with only two nurses on duty. Consequently, I was no earlier being attended to.

And having read about the times that I have … errr … been for a gipsy’s just recently, just as towards the end of last week when we had all of that rumpus at dialysis about my weight, I’m convinced that the scales were wrong that Thursday. Today, I clocked in at UNDER my dry weight.

Nevertheless, I made them take out 500 grammes so that I can be ahead next time. But I’ll keep on going as I am, with just breakfast and chocolate cake for now, until I’m sure that it’s all properly under control and I’m not as tired as I currently am.

With everyone arriving all at once, everyone needed unplugging at the same time. And being last in, I was last out, after something of a wait, so I was no earlier arriving home.

My cleaner helped me in, and after she left, I had my chocolate and ice cream and then did the washing up. And now that I’ve finished my notes, there are just a few things to do and then I’m hoping for a better night than last night.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my … errr … problems during the night … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the two old men in the urology clinic.
The first man asks the second "why are you here?"
"I have this terrible problem" he replied. "I don’t seem to be able to manage to … errr … go to the bathroom these days."
"I don’t have that problem" replied the other. "Every morning at 07:00, as regular as clockwork, every day, I have no trouble at all."
"So why are you here then?"
"I don’t wake up until 07:30."

Sunday 5th April 2026 – YET ANOTHER NIGHT …

… when I’m going to bed without any tea, except, of course, a slice of my home-made chocolate cake and a helping of home-made ice cream

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I’m valuing my sleep much more than I’m valuing my food right now, and that’s not like me at all, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall.

You wouldn’t think that I’d had a decent lie-in last night. As usual, things rather dragged and it ended up being just after 22:00 when I went to bed. Never mind though, at least I could have a decent sleep.

That’s what I thought, anyway, but as you might expect, it didn’t work out like that. I awoke on a couple of occasions and once, round about 05:30, I thought that I would never go to go back to sleep.

However, I must have done at some point because, when the doorbell rang, I was so far out of it that I thought “who the heck is this waking me up at this time?” and I was half out of bed before I realised that it was Isabelle the Nurse. I had to dive quickly back under the covers and pretend to be asleep for when she came in here.

She was her usual chatty self, which is something that I don’t really need, early on a Sunday morning. But after she left, I could turn over and go back to sleep.

Eventually, I awoke and once I’d managed to stand up, which was not easy, I headed off into the bathroom to sort myself out. It was a respectable 09:40 when I arrived in the kitchen. No medication this morning except the urgent stuff. I simply made breakfast, including more of my delicious hot cross buns.

We started a new book today too. It’s HISTORIA BRITTONUM, written by Nennius in the tenth century. It’s a book with probably the most obsequious introduction that I have ever read, and it’s also one of the most inaccurate, although it’s one of the first to mention Arthur, even if it doesn’t describe him as a king.

The translation dates from 1838 and it contains one of the most glorious mistranslations that I have ever seen. How it passed the proof-readers, I really don’t know. Our translator tells us that "St. Germanus, after his death, returned into his own country". That would have been interesting to witness.

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

When I awoke, round about 00:44, I was busy working on planning a radio programme about some kind of index. It was importing likely songs into it but at the moment that I awoke, I was puzzling over what name to give to the file. That was the point that I reached when I awoke.

Usually, I can think of a really good name for my files, but most often, it’s about ten minutes after I’ve already named them and backed them up. But this actually relates to a discussion I was having on Friday with one of my regular readers, who was talking about my database. Actually, I keep an index in a series of text files and in an Open Office spreadsheet under the rather prosaic name of “Playlist”.

There was also some more about something from the other night. They had managed to identify the cowling of that ice cream lorry and had prepared one in plastic and sent it to him to fit himself. In the meantime, they were still making enquiries about that project that was discussed the other day but they hadn’t as yet made very much progress.

Now, I wonder to which dream this relates. I can see the cowling now – it’s off a Leyland FG-550 and it’s green – but this dream and the one to which it refers still don’t ring any bells with me now that I’m awake.

I was down in Virlet last night with Nerina. We were sorting out a few things down there with someone else. Then this other person left and we decided to leave too. Nerina climbed into her car, which was a blue Ford Classic … "it was actually a Ford Corsair" – ed …, and I locked up the house. As I approached Nerina’s car, she let out the clutch and moved off about fifty yards, so I walked along towards the car, and she did this on several occasions. I thought “what on earth is the matter with her?”. So we carried on like this, but then the next-door neighbour arrived in a kind of horse box. Just as I was about to go out of sight round a corner, a little boy shouted after me “mister, mister”. I turned round and he said that their house was on fire, so I immediately ran down there and asked them if they had a hose, which they hadn’t, so I went into the barn. They followed me in, and they were amazed by the three cars that were in there that dated to the 1930s and early 1940s. I was rummaging around looking for the hose, and I found it and plugged it into the tap, but it was very short. I thought that I had much more hose than this, so I had a search around and I found another length. It still wasn’t very long so I began to look around outside. Nerina was there by this time, and she pointed out a hose that was lying on the ground underneath some wood. I went to fetch it, but it was the wrong connection. In the meantime, no fire brigade had turned up, no ambulance, no police or anything, so I asked them if they had ‘phoned the fire brigade. They replied “you have a decent-looking pushbike there. Why don’t you ride into the village and tell the mayor?”. Although the pushbike might be decent, which it probably wasn’t, I was in no healthy state to get on a bike and cycle up and down a few mountains, so I carried on looking for this hose.

This wasn’t the Virlet that I know. In fact, I’ve no idea where it might be. And I can imagine Nerina driving off as I approached the car. In fact, I did that one with Laurence but she didn’t notice and climbed into the car that had pulled up behind.

The garage with the old cars is the same one that appeared in a dream several weeks ago, but down in the Auvergne, there would be no problem about hosepipes as I have miles of the stuff.

When I’d finished, there was a footfest. Firstly, Stranraer fighting to a 1-1 draw with Dumbarton, followed by Greenock Morton throwing away a one-goal lead to go down 3-1 away to Dunfermline Athletic.

After that, I attacked the radio notes for the next programme. And by the time that I’d finished, I’d prepared and assembled the two halves of the programme, chosen the joining track and written the notes for it.

That’s three radio programmes that I’ve assembled this weekend. That’s some good going, and I wish that I could do it every weekend.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall exactly what happened after this. And for over an hour too. And when I finally did return to the Land of the Living, I couldn’t move for a good fifteen minutes. As I said earlier, it’s hard to believe that I had a lie-in this morning.

In the kitchen, I made a loaf of bread. Not a pizza, because as I said a little earlier, I’m valuing my sleep more than I’m valuing my food right now. And the loaf is cooked to perfection. I hope that it will taste as nice as it looks.

While it was baking, I washed up everything and then had my chocolate cake with home-made ice cream. The pudding was delicious as usual.

So right now, I’m going to sort myself out and go to bed. And as well as that, seeing as it’s a Bank Holiday tomorrow, I’m going to set the alarm to 07:30 and have an extra hour in bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about house fires … "well, one of us has" – ed … there were two men sitting on a pier in the Bahamas quietly fishing.
Neither of them actually looked like the flashy type so the first one asked the second "How come you managed to come here?"
"I had a house fire and I lost absolutely everything" he replied. "But the insurance company was very generous and paid me for everything."
"It’s pretty much the same story for me" replied the first man "except that it was a flood that wiped me out."
"Blimmin’ ‘eck!" said the second man. "However did you manage to start a flood?"

Friday 3rd April 2026 – I HAVE HAD …

… another miserable day today and I’ll be going to bed in a few minutes regardless of how early or late it might be. And if I have yet another evening without any tea, I really don’t care at all.

Last night, as I said earlier, I was in bed at 20:20 or thereabouts, and I was asleep almost straight away. But not for long, though. By about 00:30 I was awake, and try as I might, I couldn’t go back to sleep.

In the end, round about 03:00, I left the bed and went to sit at the computer. After doing the stats and backing everything up, I wrote yesterday’s entry and replaced the terse note that I had written earlier.

Back into bed at about 04:30, I set the alarm for 07:30 and went back to sleep – except for a brief moment round about 05:00 when I definitely heard someone shout “wake up, wake up”.

When the alarm went off, I staggered … "eventually" – ed … to my feet and went off to the bathroom for a kind-of wash. Not very much of a wash, it has to be said, because I was still fully dressed.

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

There was something about a girl who was writing some kind of biography about the Beatles, or one of the Beatles. She was choosing all kinds of music for the programme. She’d borrowed a pile of books to read but her teacher had borrowed half of those and she was having a great deal of difficulty getting them back. It turned out that this teacher wanted to be involved in the project too but the girl writing it wouldn’t have her in the project at any price. Eventually, she managed to come up with some kind of notes, but there was all the music and she didn’t really want to be involved in the music. She was going to leave this to the producer to sort out the songs and insert them into the programme where he thought fit, despite where otherwise she might have put them.

There doesn’t seem to be very much of any relevance in this dream, so I’ve no idea about anything that might have been going on. It seems that quite recently, we are having a lot of dreams that don’t relate to anything that’s been going on, so I’ve no idea what’s happening these days. It’s probably something to do with these extra pills that I have to take.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual and we had an interesting chat about hot cross buns. Apparently, she’d seen something on TV about them and wanted to know more. I told her that I’d give her my recipe and let her find out for herself.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of THE ROMAN FORT AT BALMUILDY on the Antonine Wall, written by Stewart Napier Miller.

Today, we’re discussing pottery, would you believe? And it’s interesting to note that these experts can identify the individual potter, where and when he worked from just a small fragment.

And just like James Curle at Newsteads, they note that pottery from the earlier period is of much better quality than that of the later period, quite the reverse of what you would normally expect.

As an aside, I have to say that my home-made hot cross buns are absolutely excellent. They really have turned out very well indeed and I’ll have to make another batch like that, but not have the oven so hot. I should have realised that 200°C is too high and I should have stuck to my usual 180°C

Back in here, I had things to do, such as to check my e-mails, and I found that there was work to do. Someone had written to me to tell me that I had misidentified a building on ONE OF MY WEB PAGES, so I had to amend the entry.

While I was at it, I was able to identify a colour for which I had been searching for quite a while and I can now use it, as you might already have noticed.

When I’d finished everything, I began to edit one of the sets of radio notes that had been hanging round for quite a while. So right now, the two halves of the programme have been prepared, the joining track has been chosen and the notes for it written, ready for the next lot of dictating.

That was despite several interruptions. Firstly, at midday, I had to put the dirty clothes into the machine to wash them. And then take them out later and prepare them for my faithful cleaner to hand up when she comes this afternoon.

When she turned up, round about 14:00, I was feeling too ill to stand up and say “hello”. I just grunted a few things to her from in here and let her get on with it.

After she had left, there was football on the internet, Llanelli v Y Bala.

And I have to say that I have never ever seen a team play as badly as Llanelli. Bottom of the table and already relegated, for the first sixty minutes, they played so badly that they made Y Bala, next to bottom, look good. The game was already over at that point, with Y Bala 4-0 up and it was no exaggeration.

For the final thirty minutes, Llanelli were much improved and played with much more fire and spirit. They even hit the woodwork a couple of times, but couldn’t score a goal. And in fact, near the end, Y Bala scored a breakaway goal that made it 5-0.

The battle for the second relegation place is now hotting up. From being eight points clear a couple of weeks ago and looking quite safe, Y Fflint are now just two points ahead, with one game left to play.

After the game was over, I crashed out in my chair for an hour or so. I’d been fighting off wave after wave of sleep all day. When I awoke, I really was feeling dreadful.

As it was almost teatime, I cut myself a slice of chocolate cake and put a dollop of home-made ice cream on it, and then brought it in here. That’s my tea for tonight and, once more, it really is excellent. I’m quite pleased with how the cake has turned out.

So now that my notes are finished, I’m off to bed, hoping for a good night’s sleep, but I doubt it.

The heating is turned up full in here tonight as I’m freezing cold, I’m coughing like never before, a streaming cold and non-stop sneezing. At least, in bed I can keep warm, and I’ll stay in bed for as long as it takes. I really am feeling quite dreadful right now;

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my cake … "well, one of us has" – ed … a man walking on a beach finds a magic lamp and gives it a rub. Suddenly, a genie appears.
"You have liberated me from my prison" said the genie. "I shall grant you three wishes."
"First, I’d like a motor yacht on a trailer"
"No problem" said the genie. He waves his wand and a motor yacht on a trailer appears.
"Now I would like a million Pounds" said the man.
"No problem" said the genie. He waves his wand and a million Pounds appears.
"Now I would like to be totally irresistible to women" said the man
"No problem" said the genie. He waves his wand and transforms the man into a chocolate cake.

Wednesday 1st April 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone this morning when I awoke.

Not that that was any surprise. Leaving aside the question of these new medicaments that Emilie the Cute Consultant prescribed for me, if you don’t go to bed until 23:30 and you awaken at 04:00, there’s not a lot of time to go anywhere, is there?

Yes, it was another late night last night. For some reason or other, tea last night took ages to cook and consequently, I was quite late finishing. And then with the writing of the notes and everything else that I have to do, we ended up finishing much later than I had hoped.

Once in my nice, clean bed, I was hoping for a really good sleep. And for the first part of the night, that was what I had. Asleep quite quickly and not moving a muscle at all. However, it all went wrong at 04:00 when I awoke.

For quite a while, I stayed with my head tucked firmly under the quilt, nice and comfortable, but after about an hour, I began to think of all of the things that I could be doing instead.

Consequently, I managed … "eventually" – ed … to crawl out of bed and take my place at the computer.

And by the time that the alarm went off, I had dictated no fewer than five sets of radio notes. That was a good morning’s work, especially as there are only now a handful left to do.

When I’d finished, I crawled into the bathroom to sort myself out and then went into the kitchen for the hot drink and medication.

Back in here, I checked the dictaphone and then occupied myself with a few tasks to keep me busy.

Isabelle the Nurse arrived as usual and sorted out my legs and feet. She didn’t have much to say for herself today, which is not like her. After she left, I could make breakfast and make a start on the new book.

It’s called THE ROMAN FORT AT BALMUILDY on the Antonine Wall, written by Stewart Napier Miller and concerns the excavations in 1912-1914 of a Roman fort on the Antonine Wall that ran between the Forth and the Clyde in Scotland.

Its ruins were always visible up to about 1820 or so when it was quarried for its stone. With its existence being threatened by the expansion of Glasgow, it was decided in 1912 to excavate it to recover what might be lost. The excavations finished in 1914 when Miller was mobilised into the Army at the start of World War I.

Back in here afterwards, I sat down at my desk, and the next thing that I remembered, it was 11:27. I’d fallen asleep yet again and had been out like a light for a little over two hours. That was a huge disappointment because I had so much to do today, and I thought that, by and large, I’d overcome these rather dramatic crash-outs.

Then again, I suppose that with only four and a half hours sleep during the night, I’d have to catch up on it somehow, some time. So with not having much time to hang around, I immediately attacked the radio programme that I’d been preparing.

There was a deadline for this today – 16:00 for reasons that you will soon find out. And despite a pause for a disgusting drink, by 16:00, I’d chosen all of the music, remixed and re-edited it all, paired and segued it, end even written all of the notes for it. That was probably the quickest radio programme that I’ve ever prepared, and I wish that I could do them all as quickly as this.

At 16:00 I went into the kitchen.

The first task was to make some bread baps – four of them. Two of them were destined for this evening and the other two for tomorrow evening.

While they were proofing after their first knead, I melted a bar of cooking chocolate over an ad-hoc bain marie with a little water. When it had all melted, I put it on one side to cool, and then, when it was cool enough, poured it over the top of my chocolate cake to make a kind of chocolate shell.

That’s going to be my Easter treat and I bet that it will be as sickly as anything. And won’t I enjoy it?

In the meantime, I’d been preparing my butternut squash, scooping out the seeds and filling the holes with garlic and chili. Then drizzling some olive oil over the two halves. The two halves went into the oven to roast, along with an onion and some potatoes.

At some point during all of that, I’d kneaded the dough for the bread rolls and separated it into four equal portions that I then shaped in the form of discuses, which I left to prove again.

When the squash, potatoes and onions were ready, I took them out of the oven and put in the bread rolls. With the squash, potatoes and onions etc, I made a soup using the carrot water that I’d saved from blanching my carrots that I’d ordered from Leclerc.

Once the soup was ready, I whizzed it up, added some plain soya yoghurt and a few handfuls of these little pasta elbows and let it simmer for ten minutes. Half of it then went into my bowl and the other half was put on one side with two of the baps, for tea tomorrow.

And it was absolutely delicious, one of the best soups that I have ever made. And there wasn’t any room for any trifle afterwards either. The soup and bread were quite enough.

And now I’m off to bed. I’ve had a hellish day today. Never mind the crashing out, I’ve been coughing all day, sneezing and I have a streaming head cold, so strong that not even any Vick’s or Olbas Oil can control it. I hope that it all clears up quite quickly because it all gets right on my nerves all of this. As if I don’t have enough problems.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about waking up early … "well, one of us has" – ed … when I was back in Crewe, I used to wake up early quite often, even after only an hour or two of sleep.
One of my friends once asked me "whenever that kind of thing ever happened, did you wake up grumpy? "
"Oh no" I replied. "I always let her sleep in."

Sunday 29th March 2026 – THERE IS SOMETHING …

… extremely democratic about sitting down to your breakfast at 11:55. Even though an hour of that was “lost” due to the change to Summer Time, it was still quite impressive, and it shows you just how tired I have been.

What made it even more impressive was that when I was just about to climb into bed, it was 22:28 – two minutes before my ideal curfew time. That’s the advantage of going to bed without any tea – being able to write my notes and do the usual housekeeping without any pressure at all.

Maybe I should try it more often. An early night, plus a session of losing weight for dialysis can’t be bad.

Mind you, the night wasn’t as good as it might have been. I awoke on a couple of occasions and even had to leave the bed at one point to … errr … siphon the python, which is very unusual.

Once more, it was the tail-end of the nurse’s buzzing that awoke me, but I still pretended to be asleep when he came in here. He sorted out my legs and feet without saying too much, and after he left, I went straight back to sleep.

At some point though, I awoke. I’ve no idea what time it was but it took me a good while to bring myself to sit on the edge of the bed, and just as long again before I rose to my feet to stagger off into the bathroom.

It was 11:35 when I made it into the kitchen and by the time that my breakfast was ready and I could sit down to eat it, it was 11:55. Hot black coffee, porridge, and the last of this batch of croissants. Next weekend, I shall, of course, be attacking the somewhat overdone hot cross buns. Overdone they might be, but I bet that they’ll taste just as nice, toasted and with loads of vegan butter.

While I was eating, I was reading some more of ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A Miller.

We’ve finished the pages on the émigré nobles expelled from their lands to Rome where they were living on a papal allowance of, in some cases, as little as 40 ducats per month, the equivalent of about £1,100 today. That, of course, is hardly enough to keep an exiled nobleman or king in the luxury to which he would like to be accustomed.

Back in here, I listened to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

There was something about a whole new raft of legislation in one of these ancient cities that may well have been Rome. One of the things concerned sending a maid out with the washing. Another thing concerned the heating in these apartments that they used to have, but I can’t really remember any more that this because I awoke at this point.

Collapsed apartment blocks caused by jerry-building and raging fires due to out-of-control wood stoves were a common occurrence in Ancient Rome. In fact, Leonardo III Tocco, Duke of Cephalonia and Despot of Epirus, one of our exiled leaders living in Rome on the Pope’s charity, was killed when his house collapsed on top of him.

I’d enrolled in an online course for something or other and it was time for some kind of class, so I turned up. I was sitting there when someone came in with someone else. She presented him to me and said to him that I was another student from Asia who was doing this course. We had a little chat about how things were, etc. He asked me if I ever had any regrets about leaving the UK. I replied “none at all”. He asked “do you find a lot of people surprised when you tell them where you live?”. I replied that I didn’t talk to a lot of people these days. His next question was “did you ever regret the days a long time ago when people who went to live abroad were envied rather than criticised?”. I replied “I don’t really regret anything but I haven’t really encountered that kind of feeling. However, if it exists, I think that it’s down to pure jealousy rather than anything else. I think that a lot of people would up sticks and move to the continent if they could, on their account”.

Not that I’ve ever lived, or even been to Asia, but no matter where I am, I have no regrets whatever about leaving the UK. And it’s strange, but the majority of my closest friends are also British people who have moved to mainland Europe. Birds of a feather flock together, so they say.

After the dictaphone notes and a few other things that needed doing, we had a footfest – the highlights of the matches in the JD Cymru Premier League from yesterday. And one of the most surprising results was that Llanelli, hopelessly adrift at the foot of the table, beat Welsh Cup finalists Y Fflint 2-1 away at Y Fflint’s ground. I’m not sure how that happened but it’s certainly thrown the relegation battle between Y Bala and Y Fflint wide open again.

Following that, there were two matches of Stranraer’s to watch. The first was Tuesday night’s 3-1 home win over Clyde and the second was a disappointing 1-0 defeat away at Annan. But I do have to say that I’m sure that the referee was refereeing a different game to the one that the crowd, the match commentators and I were watching.

There wasn’t much time after that, but nevertheless I managed to edit another lot of radio notes and prepare the two halves of the programme. The joining track has been selected and the notes written for it too, ready for dictation at some point in the future.

When it was baking time, I went into the kitchen to bake a chocolate oil-cake, with coconut oil. And with real chocolate chips from a whizzed-up bar of cooking chocolate and with ground almonds and ground Brazil nuts.

And at some point during the week, it will have a coating of melted cooking chocolate bar. Sickly as anything, but that’s my Easter treat along with my hot cross buns.

After that, I made the base for tonight’s pizza. And another really delicious one, with half left over for tomorrow, as usual.

Right now, though, I’m off to bed, ready for dialysis tomorrow … "I don’t think" – ed … and all of the doctors in their little room, crossing their fingers in the hope that this “serious risk of suicide” comes to pass.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my hot cross buns … "well, one of us has" – ed … one of my friends asked me if I would enjoy them, despite their being over-baked.
"Not a problem" I replied. "It reminds me of my mother when we were kids."
"How do you mean?"
"She used to treat us all like Gods."
"In what way?"
"Every time we came home from school, she presented us with a burnt offering."

Wednesday 19th November 2025 – PART THREE OF …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday 17th November 2025 – WE HAVE HAD …

… a showdown at dialysis this afternoon.

This outrageous fatigue is continuing to lay me flat out, so I decided to take the bull by the horns.

The chef de service was on duty today so I seized the opportunity. I explained my week to him – dialysis Monday, Chemotherapy Tuesday, Chemotherapy Wednesday, dialysis Thursday, Centre de Ré-education Friday and dialysis Saturday.

"When am I supposed to have any time for myself?" I asked. "As if I don’t have anything else to do." And so we had a lengthy discussion. Whether anything comes of it or not, I really don’t know. Probably not, because so far, I have the impression that I am talking to a wall.

It’s no wonder, with a programme like that, that I am thoroughly exhausted. If I could concentrate on my notes and finish them at a reasonable hour, that would be a start. But sometimes I’m too tired to concentrate.

Like last night, for example. It should have been an early night but what with one thing and another … "and until you make a start, you have no idea how many other things there are" – ed … by the time I’d done everything that I needed to do, it was 23:10 when I finally crawled into bed.

So much for my aim of being in bed by 22:30.

Once I’d managed to fall asleep, I was flat out until all of … errr … 04:10, and at one point I was seriously thinking of leaving the bed. However, I must have gone back to sleep because the next thing that I remember was the alarm going off at 06:29.

As seems to be the case these days, it took me an age to raise myself from the Dead and head into the bathroom. And then it was a very leisurely start to the day while I made my ginger, honey and lemon drink with which to take my medicine.

When I’d finished that, I cut the loaf into two and put one half in the freezer. And then I cut up the cake into squares and put them into an airtight container.

Isabelle the Nurse took me by surprise again, and I had to sit quietly … "if that’s possible" – ed … while she took my blood pressure.

Once she’d done that, she looked after my feet and legs, and then I made breakfast.

After breakfast, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. The Confederate Army had a kind of hospital where they put their. I was going there as part of the sick. One thing that I had noticed was that there seemed to be no sense of urgency in defending the fort, and no plan of what to do if the enemy were to attack. They didn’t seem to be in too much of a hurry to have everyone installed. The Union Army launched a campaign in that area and the hospital came under threat. However, it was the Union Army this time that prevaricated and seemed to waste every possible moment before launching an attack. Had it been a decisive attack quite quickly, it might have succeeded. The dream went on from there but unfortunately, I can’t remember it

What a shame that I can’t remember it. But it seems that I’m stuck in the American Civil War and I’ve no idea why. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that WE VISITED SEVERAL CIVIL WAR BATTLEFIELDS and we’ve been reading bits here and there, but I don’t know why it’s become so imprinted in my subconscious mind.

Over the past couple of days, I’ve been reading AB-SA-RA-KA, LAND OF MASSACRE by Margaret Carrington, and at long last, after many years of searching, I’ve found that which I’ve been seeking.

In the back of the book is a large fold-out map of Wyoming and the Dakotas, with the various trails and campaigns marked out, along with the sites of the forts and the major battles.

It doesn’t fold out so well in a *.pdf but a series of judicious screen prints and a good graphics editing program has produced an impressive *.jpg image.

The book does not contain a list of all of the battles (she says that it would be far too long) which is a shame, and I’m sure that the map is not complete, but how I wish that I had had it with me on my various forays into “Indian Territory” over the past twenty-odd years.

Doing that took up most of the morning, and in the remaining time, I edited the radio notes that I’d dictated the other day.

When my faithful cleaner appeared, I went into the kitchen where she applied my anaesthetic. And then I waited for the taxi.

It was early today, so I was early arriving. I was connected up quite quickly, which is nice. However, I tried a couple of times to doze off to sleep, to catch up on the sleep that I’ve been missing, but everyone seemed to awaken me today. In the end, I gave it up.

Towards the end of the session, the chef de service came to see how I was. He gave me a brief explanation of what’s happening, and then he went to leave.

"That’s OK" I replied "if you don’t want to hear what I have to say."

That rather took him by surprise.

Now that I had his attention, I described my week to him. I also mentioned that despite having told the Centre de Ré-education that any more than three sessions per day is killing me, they gave me four last week, and there are four next Wednesday too.

What with the chemotherapy too, I feel as if I’m being kept alive simply for the purpose of being alive for the next medical appointment, and so on after that. There’s no quality of life any more, I have plenty of things that I would like to do that I cannot do because of all of this, and the way that my life is being run right now, I’ve become a slave to the medical system. It’s no surprise that, with all of this, I’m so tired.

His reply was "you are seriously ill and we are doing our best to keep you alive."

My reply was "but if this is the best that I can have, I simply don’t see the point. There’s no point in staying alive if all that they can promise me is another medical appointment the following day. We may as well call it a day, all of it."

Of course, he wasn’t happy. But then again, neither am I.

In the end, he put a note in my file to hand to the chemotherapy people tomorrow, and he says that he’ll send a message to the Centre de Ré-education. As for the dialysis clinic, he’ll chat with his colleagues and see if it might be possible to reduce my sessions to two per week.

Whether he does actually follow it up, and whether the hospital at Rennes and the Centre de Ré-education react remains to be seen, of course. But something needs to change because I can’t go much longer on like this.

And in case you think that I’m not being serious, I promise you that I am.

The taxi driver, the young chatty one, was waiting. He had another passenger with him and we had an interesting chat all the way home. We arrived early for once and after I’d gathered my wits … "with the amount of wits that he has left, I’m surprised that it takes him so long" – ed … I amended the running order of the tracks and re-paired and re-segued them, as I mentioned a week or so ago that I would…

Isabelle the Nurse came to take my blood pressure as usual. It was as high as 13.4 – that’s extreme hypertension for me and it shows just how worked up I’ve become over this affair. She had to wait ten minutes for me to calm down.

Tea tonight was mashed potatoes in butter with peans and a breaded spicy vegan burger followed by chocolate cake. And once more, I ate it all.

Now I’m off to bed, ready for chemotherapy tomorrow, I don’t think.

But seeing as we have been talking about the Wars in Indian Territory in the late Nineteenth Century … "well, one of us has" – ed … General Crook admitted to being impressed with the standard of horsemanship of the Lakota Sioux. He is on record, according to JG Bourke’s ON THE BORDER WITH CROOK as saying that they were "the finest light cavalry in the World"
When he finally met up with Chief Red Cloud, he asked him how they managed it.
"We’ve had plenty of practice riding horses over the last couple of Centuries."
"How come?" asked Crook.
"We had to" replied Red Cloud. "You try carrying a horse and see how far you can travel."

Thursday 6th November 2025 – JUST FOR A …

… change, tonight I tried something new for tea. And for the first time since I can’t remember when, I managed to eat a plate full of food and leave nothing behind on the plate. This is an exciting development.

However, more of that anon.

Last night, I tried yet again to make a determined effort to finish my notes at some kind of realistic time, to dash through everything else that needed doing and then have an early night.

But, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall from past experience, I failed miserably. It was 22:34 when my notes finally crawled online and by the time that I snuggled up under the warm covers, it was 23:10, about half an hour later than I was hoping.

As seems to be the case these days, I was asleep quite quickly, despite all of the coughing that I was doing, and there I lay, totally dead to the World until all of … errr … 04:44.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t go back to sleep, so round about 05:20 I left the bed and dictated the radio notes that I’d written the other day. They turned out to be something of a dog’s dinner and will require some considerable editing, but at least they are done. I took full advantage of the quiet of the early morning.

After the bathroom, I went to take my medication. This involved making another one of these ginger, lemon and honey drinks. And once more, Brain of Britain forgot about the reaction between the acid in the lemon juice and the alkaline Calcium Carbonate. As a result, I ended up with only half a glass of drink and a mountain of soggy paper tissue.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And once more, I was surprised at how far I’d travelled. I was with some friends of mine. We were doing something in the front garden of the house of one of them. Suddenly, five people walked across the lawn from somewhere, but we don’t know from where they came. They went to the front door, but we couldn’t see particularly what was happening from where we were standing. All of a sudden, one of the people, the one nearest the door, seemed to flinch as if someone had struck him or attempted to strike him. Then one of the parents came out and began to kick at these people, trying to chase them away. I wondered what had gone on, but there was one of him and five of them so I went over to see what I could do. These people slowly began to retreat but suddenly there were more and more of them. I went around the back, but there were several hundred children coming in from down the hill and through the hedge. I went to the hedge and began to shoo the children away but there were more and more of them coming. In the end, I was overwhelmed. I decided to go back to the house to see what we could do but when I reached the back of the house, there were probably a thousand children and people on the back lawn staring at the house. I wondered what on earth was going on here and what are we going to do about this.

Whoever these friends were, I have no idea. But this was a really creepy, eerie dream that evidently has some significance about something but I can’t think what. I know that I like children, but only in small numbers where, if they begin to misbehave, you can give them back to their parents. Having a thousand or so dumped in my lap all at once would be quite overwhelming.

Later on, I was out in the van somewhere. I ended up stopping in a country lane where I set up a bit of a camp at the side of the road with a tent. I had my cooking facilities and everything. Next morning I awoke quite early and had to go into town to do some shopping, but I noticed that I’d left the van parked right in the middle of the road. It was a surprise to me that vehicles had been able to go by without actually saying anything. I had a look, and there was a space not too far from where my tent was pitched, where there was a small amount of tarmac that had been spilled onto the grass verge so I thought that I’d put the van there. Although there would be some of it on the road, there would still be a lot less and it wouldn’t be in the middle. For some reason, I had an enormous amount of difficulty trying to manoeuvre the van onto this small piece of tarmac. I remember that there was someone watching me too. I thought that this isn’t a very good advert for my driving.

This is my big worry these days. Just before I stopped driving, I could feel that my reflexes were slowing down dramatically and I didn’t feel as secure on the road as I once did. Even if I were to recover the strength in my legs (which is doubtful) I don’t think that I’d be safe on the roads.

One thing that I remember about that dream just now was that I actually walked to the van. I counted the steps, but I can’t remember how many there were. I thought to myself “that’s an improvement”.

Ahhh – if only …..

The nurse came along at his usual time, still cheerful and full of bonhomie which is very nice. He didn’t stay long and said that he’d see me tomorrow at 06:45. Yes, I have dialysis tomorrow early morning.

Once he’d gone, I could make breakfast and have a leisurely start to the day.

After breakfast, I spent some time in the kitchen. While I was sorting out the food the other day, I came across a recipe for a Moroccan Bean tajine. One hundred percent vegan and, to my surprise, I had all of the ingredients in stock.

A proper Moroccan clay coking pot I don’t have, but I do have a slow cooker so last night, I had put some beans in it to soak overnight. This morning, I followed the recipe and mixed everything together, then I added it all into the slow cooker and left it to simmer away throughout the day.

Back in here, I had things to do, but I was interrupted by the postie who brought me another couple of packets. There are just two more to arrive now, and I can’t wait for them.

After the disgusting drink break, the taxi came to pick me up to take me to the Centre de Ré-education.

The first session was fifteen minutes working on the muscles of my arms, followed by fifteen minutes working on what remains of the muscles in my legs. I still live in hope that something might happen to enable me to walk again.

The second session was with my physiotherapist who had me squeezing rubber balls with my feet, and then she took me for a walk with a walk frame. A walk frame is no good, though. It twists my arms into all kinds of unfortunate positions that are quite painful after a short while.

The final session was a team effort in the gym, playing carpet skittles. They have some strange ideas in this place.

Back here, my cleaner helped me into the apartment and then I crashed out for an hour or so. The combination of the early start and the effort at the Centre de Ré-education had wiped me out.

Once I’d come round back into the Land of the Living, I began to choose the music for the next radio programme. Even so, I’m beginning to fall behind again and I need to motivate myself much more. I’m hoping that when the chemotherapy and the physiotherapy are finished, I’ll have much more time to press on with things. It’s hard to find the energy to do things when I’m wearing myself out with all of these medical appointments.

Tea tonight was a ladle-ful of the tajine with couscous. It was excellent too and not too heavy. I managed to eat all of it too, as I said earlier. Couscous is a high-protein food and so are white beans, so add that to the fats and the carbohydrates in my vegan chocolate and coconut cake, and for once, I had a healthy meal.

And not only that, it was delicious.

So right now I’m off to bed. But not before I’ve rinsed the lentils in the slow cooker. Tomorrow, I’m going to make a vegan lasagna so the lentils are simmering away nicely.

But seeing as we have been talking about children climbing the fence … "well, one of us has" – ed … many years ago, I caught a couple of kids climbing over the fence at Gresty Road during a Crewe Alexandra football match.
"It’s no good, kids" I said. "You’ve been caught red-handed. You’re not getting away with this. Now, you can just jolly well climb back and watch the second half."

Wednesday 5th November 2025 – THIS EVENING …

… despite making for myself an even smaller portion of food than normal, I left an even larger proportion of it on the plate last night.

One of the things that might have contributed to that was that I didn’t have my breakfast until 13:00 today.

This morning, I was at dialysis and so last night, I tried my best to rush through everything that needed doing. Not that I managed it particularly, though. It was just after 22:30 that I posted my notes, and what with one thing and another … "and until you make a start, you have no idea how many other things there are" – ed … it was almost 23:00 when I finally crawled into bed.

That didn’t help much either. Although I fell asleep quite quickly, whenever I have to set an alarm especially early, I always seem to have a bad night, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall. Last night was no exception. I was tossing and turning all the way through.

When the alarm went off at 06:00 however, I was fast asleep, and it took quite some effort to extricate myself from my nice, warm bed.

After I’d sorted myself out in the bathroom, I went into the living room to sort myself out. My faithful cleaner (bless her!) staggered into the living room just before 07:00 to apply my anaesthetic and it’s just as well that she did, because the taxi turned up at 07:10 instead of 07:30.

Not that I’m complaining though, because the sooner we start, the sooner we finish.

There was someone else to pick up along the way but even so, we were still early. I was connected up quite quickly too, and then left to my own devices for most of the morning.

They unplugged me quite quickly once the session finished and, even better, the taxi was waiting for me. It was one of the very pleasant drivers who brought me home so we had a very interesting and enjoyable drive.

My faithful cleaner helped me in and presented me with the first of the parcels that I am expecting. This one is the heated lightbulb to replace the one that has blown in the bathroom. Many people, I know, don’t approve of these on-line retailers but unfortunately I don’t have any other choice. I can’t send my cleaner running around from shop to shop.

Once I’d recovered my strength, I made breakfast. I certainly needed it too because it’s been a long time since I’ve eaten anything.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And to my surprise I found that I must have travelled miles. There had been a football match taking place on a field somewhere. Everywhere was dry and most of the grass had died. There was plenty of dust floating around. One particular side had several new players, and as each of those players ran out to take the field, they had something significant with them. Then, once three new players had joined the team, the match began. A few minutes later, a fourth new player came to join in. he had something that was like a kind of roller but it was a pointed shape rather than an elongated, long shape. It only had one handle to it and the thing rotated in this handle. This guy ran onto the field through this dust bowl and onto the pitch with this machine. Everyone welcomed him. The game stopped for someone to take a throw-in, and it was on the team that the new people had joined. The guy was about to take the throw-in when he saw someone else come along to join in the game. He was there thinking “should I throw the ball to them or not? They don’t look as if they are ready, but if they are coming onto the field of play, then they ought to be”.

This doesn’t seem to relate to anything that I recall, but football is certainly on my mind at the moment, what with one thing and another. This half-roller thing is quite interesting though, and I wonder what it’s all about

Going back to that dream was something about me being sure that I was spotted by some people in a mini-submarine so I retreated inside the armoured safety zone with a very small bottle of beer and some liquorice sweets to await the arrival of my father. When he arrived, we had a look around but couldn’t see anything so I stayed on and drew a few more feats to keep me company.

This dream seems to be the second part of a dream to which the first part is missing. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed …. I wonder how many other dreams that I’ve had that have been missed. And I really would like some liquorice sweets right now. I’m a big fan of liquorice.

Later on, I pulled up on the Knutsford Services in a van. Seeing as I was still wearing my PSV badge, I thought that I’d try my look and claim for a free cup of tea. However, the woman on the till looked at how I was dressed and didn’t think at all that I qualified so she called the manageress over. The manageress took me to her office and began to interrogate me. I gave her a load of non-committal answers and in the end, she asked if I would take her out to see the vehicle that I had. I wasn’t intending to let her see the van so I stalled for time. When it reached the end of her shift, she had to go home but she was going to take me with her. I had to sit in her car while she drove home, but for some reason, there were three or four of us in this car. However, she left the car first and left me with the other two people. I drove the other two people home, which left me with the car. Then I had to think about how I was going to go back up to rescue my van. I thought that I could find a willing co-driver so I went round to a house in Shavington. It turned out that this girl also worked at the motorway services and she had heard all about what had gone on. She thought that it was funny and gave me something of a lecture. I decided in the end that what I was going to do was to go to hitchhike back up the motorway and bring the van back myself.

The house in Shavington is situated on Main Road, near to what used to be Warner’s shop, and I’ve no idea who used to live there when we lived in Shavington. However, I like this idea of ending up with someone else’s car without having to do much for it.

I was in Mexico on the border with the USA on a piece of land owned by one of the railway companies. It was rather high up in the mountains and on a steep slope, so the best that the crew could do for me was to anchor in the bay and hope that I could make my way out to the ship. They had three Ottoman destroyers from the Merchant Navy and they took their position out towards the sea that left my boat (… incoherent …) but we couldn’t move this guy, me (… fell asleep here …)

This is another dream of which I have absolutely no recollection whatever. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed …. even though I’m asleep when I’m dictating, usually there is something that triggers off a memory when I’m transcribing the dictaphone notes. But not in this case.

Finally, I was in Montréal last night, at the railway station, although it was nothing like any railway station in Montréal that I know. I wanted to catch a train to go across the town. I knew that the local services all departed from round about Platform Thirty-Three so I hobbled over on my crutches to the platform, which was crowded with commuters. As the train pulled in, everyone swarmed towards it. Of course, I was near the back. As soon as about fifty people had boarded, the doors closed regardless and the train moved off, leaving us standing on the platform. The next train was in ten minutes, which was a big express thing that was coming through, so I waited at the platform for ten minutes. The train pulled in, but once again, despite trying to run, I wasn’t quick enough to board it so I walked outside the station to see if there was a timetable where I could have a better idea of where and when the trains were going, and I met someone whom I knew. We had a chat about Canada, tourism and travel. He asked about a tower in the city, so I told him that it used to be occupied. He said that he knew that, but who lived there?. I replied that it was the watchman for the city, and if he saw any evil people heading towards the city, he’d blow a horn. The guy realised that he had heard stories like this before, so I explained that that was quite common, and many watchmen were killed in mid-horn blast by the enemy. We had quite an interesting chat. Then he asked me about photography. I told him that for years, I used to photograph everywhere where I went, but I’m not able to do it now, basically because I can’t go anywhere and secondly, because I can’t hold a camera. By this time, we had another girl with us. She said that she used to come with me on occasions. I said “I know”. I used to share my passenger seat with this girl Laura, or STRAWBERRY MOOSE, or anyone else who wanted to go. He asked me why I was on my own at the moment. I replied that STRAWBERRY MOOSE was back at home guarding the apartment.

Who is this Laura? I’m sure that I don’t know anyone of that name.

As for being killed in mid-horn blast, the most famous is the watchman of Kraków who was killed on the tower of St Mary’s Church in 1241 while blowing the alarm to warn of the Mongol siege of the city.

And Montréal again. I’m becoming all nostalgic for Montréal and Canada, although I doubt that I shall ever return there. I can’t even return to my apartment just upstairs in this building.

After that, I regrettably crashed out for half an hour. It was a tough start to the day with dialysis and all of that. And I have to do it again on Friday too!

The first meeting of this year’s Cymru Leagues Supporters’ Panel took place in the early evening. We discussed the interaction between the clubs and the supporters, whether it was adequate, whether it needed improving and what more can be done.

It remains to be seen whether anything will come of it, though. In the past, I had the impression that the Football Association of Wales had its own ideas and would carry them through, regardless of the input of the fans. I hope that by now, things will have changed. I shall certainly do my best to ensure that they do.

When the meeting finished, I went to make more croissants. Now I have six apple croissants and six plain ones. They will be in the freezer tonight to keep for over the weekend when my guests arrive.

And seeing as we have been talking about my guests … "well, one of us has" – ed … they tell me that they are excited to see me. I can’t think why. The only people who are usually excited to see me are bailiffs and the Crown Prosecution Service.

A little earlier, I mentioned tea. I had rice, veg and some of that lentil chili that I made yesterday. It was a small portion, but a good deal of it ended up in the waste bin. However, my plan for a high calorie, high carbohydrate dessert seems to be working and although it’s not healthy, it will keep me going.

Right now, though, I’m off to bed. And I need it too because despite crashing out, I’m exhausted.

But seeing as we have been talking about the watchman in Kraków … "well, one of us has" – ed … an American tourist in Kraków one afternoon asked a local "when did the Mongol hordes shoot the watchman in the church tower? "
"1241" replied the local
"Damn!" said the American, looking at his watch. "We just missed it!"

EPIC HALL

The Poisoned Pen (or Poisoned Chalice, more like) – or my relentless struggle against reality

Tag Archives: vegan chocolate cake

Monday 13th April 2026 – THIS EVENING, I …

Sunday 12th April 2026 – SO FAR, I HAVE …

Friday 10th April 2026 – I HAVE HAD …

Thursday 9th April 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

Wednesday 8th April 2026 – AND YET ANOTHER …

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Friday 3rd April 2026 – I HAVE HAD …

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