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Monday 17th August 2026 – THESE UNHAPPY, UNCERTAIN …

… days are continuing, piling up one on top of another, and I’ve no idea when it’s all going to end.

Last night, I actually managed to complete my notes (the first time for ages), although I ended up really late going to bed. And although I went to sleep quickly enough, I was back awake again at some point later.

It was one of those awakenings that I didn’t really feel. I can’t remember my eyes opening, but they just were. I wondered how long they had been open before I realised.

Again, it was an early morning of drifting off to sleep and then being awake again and not recognising which was the waking bit and which was the sleeping bit because I couldn’t tell the difference between the two.

When the alarm went off at 06:29, I went off to sort myself out in the bathroom and even to have a shave in case I encounter Emilie the Cute Consultant today at dialysis. Then back in here, I listened to the dictaphone to find out where I had been during the night.

I’d been invited to take over the management of a struggling football club in Scotland, so I went up there, and the first thing that I wanted to see was the football club’s accounts, but the accounts were heavily edited, and when I looked at the spreadsheet for the other clubs, it seemed that this was a thing that every club was doing. It was simply editing its accounts, and where there should have been a figure, there was just a yellow blob, so I had no idea exactly of what I was expected to take over and manage and how I was going to do it. There was much more to this, but the alarm went off and it evaporated immediately.

This is reminiscent of what’s happening at Greenock Morton right now. Their major sponsor has “financial issues” right now and, over the last three months, has failed to pay most of the sponsorship money that is due. Consequently, half of the players have left the club, and the club has been obliged to recruit players who, to be honest, aren’t up to the challenge of life in the Scottish Championship.

The nurse turned up as usual and gave me the treatment on my legs and feet. And after he left, I could make my breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Once more, he’s steering clear of controversy today and making sure that he doesn’t provoke anyone into taking an issue with him. Maybe he has had his nose bitten off more times than he cares to remember.

After all that, I came in here to make a start on everything. and there was plenty to do too. When I’d finished the more usual things, I had the radio to deal with.

First task was to review the programme for the coming weekend and make sure that it’s correct. Then I could send it off for inclusion in this week’s stream.

The second task was to carry on with the one that I’d started at the weekend. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that of this almost-two-hour soundtrack, I extracted five particular selections of music that made up over fifty-eight minutes, and this morning, I segued them all together.

The joints are absolutely excellent, and now it sounds just like one continuous performance, which is always what I’m aiming for with these concerts.

After that, there was even time to begin to write the speech for it. And that’s well over half-done now. It won’t take long to finish it now, and I can move on to something more important.

By now, it was midday and time to prepare myself for dialysis. I had to hunt down a few things and then wander off into the kitchen to sort out a disgusting drink and the midday medication.

My cleaner came along soon and helped me apply my anaesthetic, and then she put away the clothes that I’d washed on Saturday. They’d washed really well too.

After she left, I had to wait for the taxi, so I curled up on a kitchen chair and slumped over the dining table and drifted off into some comfortable place somewhere in the surreal. And what made it even more enjoyable was that the taxi was late. It arrived at 13:20, which meant that for a good forty-five minutes, I’d had a nice little snooze.

Today, I was the only passenger, so we arrived in Avranches just before 14:00. I was taken to my little room and installed, and I was dealt with comparatively quickly. By 14:20 I was up and running.

There was football to watch today – Connah’s Quay Nomads v Trefelin BGC, another newly promoted club.

Although the score of 6-0 to the Nomads makes it look like a very one-sided game, Trefelin had several moments of their own. The big difference was that the Nomads were much more clinical in front of goal, with Indonesian international Joe Simatupang Ferguson scoring a hat trick and Egyptian Hussein Mehasseb scoring two.

But credit to Trefelin, who kept on battling away. They never threw in the towel and were still on the attack even at the final whistle.

After that game, there was time to watch the first 35 minutes or so of the Hwlffordd v Penybont game. Hwlffordd have had a dreadful season so far, playing two and losing two, but Penybont have got off to a flyer.

By the time I had to close down the laptop, Hwlffordd were already one goal down.

Once more, no doctor came to see me today, and even worse, the nurse was obliged to finish my session ten minutes early because she had two other patients besides me who needed compressing, and everyone was due to finish at the same time. I wasn’t very happy about leaving here 300 grams overweight, especially as there’s a three-day gap until the next session on Thursday.

My driver was waiting for me when I came out, but we had to wait ten minutes for the lady who lives in Sartilly to finish. She was coming home with us, and only when she was safely on board our vehicle could we depart.

Granville, as usual, was a total mess. Most of the town centre was closed due to the annual braderie when the shops set out everything that they want to move on, sometimes at ridiculously cheap prices.

The Air-Sea Rescue helicopter was on the Pointe du Roc today when we drove past.

Rumour has it that it had rescued a couple of people stranded on one of the Isles de Chausey by the very high tide. It was now unloading them so that it could fly back to its hangar at the airstrip up the coast.

Incidentally, the photo of the helicopter was one that I’d taken IN NOVEMBER 2021 when I’d seen that woman commit suicide.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me, and she helped me back into the apartment, and I was certainly grateful. I’d had an exhausting session today. She stuck a disgusting drink into my hand, and after she left, I made tea – a bowl of cheese salad with rice and veg.

Back in here, I began to write out yesterday’s notes, but I must have crashed out at some point because I suddenly noticed that it was 22:15 and I’d not even written a dozen lines. I was feeling absolutely dreadful at that point so I posted on line what I’d written and crawled into bed. I can finish off those notes tomorrow morning.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about helicopters … "well, one of us has" – ed … regular readers of this rubbish in a previous existence will remember the day I flew in a helicopter. It was a prize offered in a free draw by the new Intermarché in Pionsat.
There were several of us on board, and the pilot announced "complete and absolute silence on board is essential. Anyone who speaks or even makes a noise will be fined €100."
We flew around for ten minutes and then he started to perform some aerobatics. We were thrown around in the sky, but still, everyone kept silent.
"That was amazing" said the pilot. "You lot are the first to withstand the test."
"Well" said a little old man sitting in the corner "I was going to say something when my wife fell out, But €100 is €100"

Monday 10th August 2026 – DON’T BE SURPRISED …

… if I fail to complete today’s notes before I’m forced to retire early to bed.

This afternoon, I have been to dialysis, as you might expect, and the nurse who dealt with me is one of the longest-serving nurses there. But she’s one of these “minimalist” people who does as little as she possibly can while still completing her assigned tasks. It’s quite true that her approach can save an awful lot of time, and for that, it should be applauded. However, it also leaves room for some glaring errors, and we’ve had one of those today.

And for a change, my luck was well and truly in, so I’m not complaining in the least. Far from it.

Last night was difficult, though. I was hours late finishing off what needed finishing, and it was well after midnight when I finished letting it all hang out and crawled into bed.

For some reason, it was really difficult to go to sleep, and when I finally did, it wasn’t for long, because at about 01:20, I was wide awake again. And there I was for a few hours too before I finally managed to go off to sleep.

When I awoke next time, I wondered what time it was. I thought that I’d better go and have a look, but just at that moment, the alarm beat me to it. It took a few minutes as usual to bring myself round into the Land of the Living, and then I headed off to the bathroom for a good scrub-up and even a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant today. I have to do my best to look pretty, even if I don’t feel like it.

Back in here, I had the dictaphone notes to transcribe so that I could find out what’s been going on during the night.

We were doing some renovation work on a hospital. The original builder had not done a very good job at all. There were quite a few early mediaeval pieces of sculpture on show, and when we measured the dates with the periods, it seemed that there was plenty of ancient British craftsmanship going on between 375 AD and 450 AD. But when we wanted to know where this had come from, we saw that a message was posted on his page saying that it just came from various research following an investigation of the WORKS OF BEDE, which was no help at all. But then we were there in the afternoon, trying to take this wheel off this Land Rover, and he drove by, extremely closely, missing him by a couple of millimetres, I should think. We wondered if we should report him for the harassment of our diggings first.

You can see in this dream the influence of Charles Freeman’s book that we are currently reading and also my theory of ethnic cleansing by the Anglo-Saxons – about 450 AD was when the Anglo-Saxons began to arrive en masse.

There was something else about a film that we had been making, an old man and me. After a lot of time, expense and money, the film was about to see the light of day. The old man had now retired into the countryside, so I remember asking him if he was going to come up to London for the premiere or whether he was going to wait until it reached the local cinema near where he lives. He expressed some doubt or opinion as to whether the film would last until it reached any kind of cinema near him

There have been several films like that where they have underperformed so dramatically that they have been taken off general release before they have gone very far around the circuit. Probably the most famous of these is Stanley Kubrick’s A CLOCKWORK ORANGE.

Incidentally, throughout these pages, you’ll see links to Amazon products appearing every now and again. Being a Sales Associate of Amazon, I receive a small commission on goods sold via my links. It costs you nothing at all extra, but helps defray … "part of the" – ed … cost of my not-insubstantial web-hosting fees.

There are also links for AMAZON UK, AMAZON USA and, since the recent “troubles”, AMAZON CANADA for the use of my numerous Canadian visitors. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I am extremely grateful when someone uses them to make a purchase

There was a third thing about a girl who was playing football. She was right-back for some kind of team, but every time the ball came down the left flank, she would naturally gravitate towards the centre of the penalty are, which meant that out on the right wing where she had been, it was an undefended zone and the team was being cut to shreds through there

This dream is very reminiscent of a football match that I saw at the Stade Louis Dior in Granville. In this case, it was a male left-back who was being drawn inside, and just as I was discussing this with another spectator, a beautiful crossfield ball found the unmarked right-winger, who just cut inside and scored a simple goal.

Isabelle the Nurse came as usual, and she noticed my three new herb plants, now in jars of water. She was pleased that I was taking good care of them

After she left, I could make my breakfast, and while I was eating, I could read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Well, in theory I could, but I was sidetracked up yet another blind alley, looking up obscure architectural terms. Some kind of glossary and maybe even pictures would have been a really great help with this book.

Right at the very beginning of the book, he told us "The present work is not illustrated ; there was at one time an intention of adding engravings, but the idea was relinquished, as to illustrate it completely was altogether out of the question, and a partial and inadequate illustration seemed even more objectionable than none at all …. But, though a complete illustration of the work would have been highly desirable, the way in which the subject is here treated renders its loss less objectionable than it would be in a treatise of detail, or a record of existing specimens."

All I can say on this subject is "you speak for yourself, Mr Freeman. You’re the author, but I’m the reader. A five-minute sketch of, say, a polygonal abacus or a vaulted clerestory would save me hours of research".

Back in here, there were the usual things to do, including checking the radio programme that will be broadcast this week and sending it off.

And once it had gone, I began to research the next radio programme. This is going to be another difficult one to complete as, once more, I don’t have all the music that I would like to use, and again, it’s all quite obscure stuff that might take me a week or two to find.

Round about 11:40, I’d finished the first part of it, and so, as a reward, I curled up on my chair for a relax. It’s a good job that I have an alarm set for midday on dialysis days, otherwise I would still be relaxing now.

In the kitchen, I sorted out a disgusting drink and my midday medication and then began to prepare myself and my things for dialysis. My cleaner came along to fix my anaesthetic, and after a brief chat, she cleared off, so I waited for the taxi.

And waited, and waited.

While I was waiting, I’d had a good sleep, which was nice, hunched up over the table, but I couldn’t stay all afternoon like that. I rang up the taxi depot to find out where my car was, and they replied “another five minutes”. Sure enough, five minutes later, he turned up. Apparently, they had given him a whole host of local work without the slightest of ideas as to how long it takes.

He made good time down to Avranches, but in the car park there was a plant shredder busily shredding away at branches they had cut down. We had to park almost in the road, and so I had an uphill slog of fifty metres on top of the long walk that I usually have to take.

There were no aides infirmières – “nursing assistants” – to help me today, so I had to find my bed all on my own, having first stopped off at the gentleman’s restroom.

With no one about, I weighed myself and then found my bed and sorted myself out. I put my weigh ticket on the temporary table underneath the bombe de froid – “cold spray” – sorted out my computer and climbed into bed.

And this is where it all went wrong. The weight that I’d recorded includes the weight of the clothes, etc. that I’m wearing so usually, the nurse knocks off eight hundred grams for my outfit, telephone, keys, etc. Anyway, she computed her figures into the machine and said “two thousand seven hundred grams to take off today”.

“Get off”, I thought to myself. “It’s never that much!”. I went through all of the calculations that I could, and I couldn’t come up with a figure of two thousand seven hundred grams, but not having the correct information to argue, I left her to it and the machine pumping away almost flat-out at nine hundred grams per hour. And sure enough, it wasn’t long before I was in agony. It’s hard work when the machine is running almost on “max” …. "”Max” in our hero’s case is nine hundred and fifty grams per hour." – ed …

Halfway through the session, I suddenly realised what had happened. I don’t recall her, or anyone else, asking me how much to deduct for my outfit. And when I factored in this eight hundred grams, the figures made much more sense. I still didn’t say anything, though. I’ll have a good head start for Thursday as long as they don’t realise what she has done.

While I was being dialysed, I was watching some more football from the weekend.

The first match was Trefynnon v Connah’s Quay Nomads. Trefynnon, newly promoted and thrashed 6-1 on the opening day of the season, played much better today against a team tipped to be up there in the fight for the title this year. They lost 3-1, and it’s true that the Nomads played the better football, but Trefynnon kept on pushing forward and had the Nomads defence in a panic on one or two occasions.

What was interesting about this was the size of the crowd for Trefynnon’s first home game in the Premier League. Once it was announced, hordes of locals began to appear, carrying big, big carpets to be cleaned for less than half a crown.

The second game was Cambrian United v Llansawel. Another new club to the league, the team from the Rhondda Valley impressed me last week in their match against Y Barri, and I was looking to see how they would get on today. I managed to watch about fifteen or twenty minutes of it before it was time to go.

The nurse dealt with me quite quickly, but she couldn’t stay and compress me, so she found some kind of clamps that would do the job too. And they worked. And when I weighed myself, I was indeed eight hundred or so grams under my dry weight. We’ll see how this impacts the Thursday session.

My driver was waiting for me – one of my favourite drivers – and we had a good chat on the way home. My cleaner helped me into the apartment and then pushed a disgusting drink into my hands.

After she left, I made some food – a cheese salad with rice and veg which was delicious – and then came back in here.

Fighting off waves and waves of sleep, I made a start on my notes, but I couldn’t keep going. After half an hour or so, I posted online what I’d written and then went to bed. The draining of this non-existent eight hundred grams has rather flattened me.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about losing weight … "well, one of us has" – ed … I once bought a lovely new dress for Nerina, but it was two sizes to small for her, so I left her a little note – "I’d love to see you in this"
When I came home from work the next day, there was a coffin in the living room with a little note from Nerina that said "Ditto".

Saturday 1st August 2026 – YET ANOTHER DAY …

… where I’ve imitated my namesake the mathematician and done three-fifths of five-eighths of … errr … nothing whatsoever. And it wasn’t for the want of trying either. It was just that the opportunity wasn’t there.

After the football last night, it ended up being a very late night by the time that I was in bed. And although I managed to go to sleep quite quickly, I did manage to sleep until all of about … errr … 01:20. After that, I stayed awake for almost all the rest of the night.

When I looked at the time at one point, it was 05:50, and I was toying with the idea of leaving the bed. However, wiser councils prevailed. I turned over onto my face and went back to sleep. And there I lay until the alarm went off at 06:29.

From that point of waking up to the moment of being dressed and in the kitchen is but a moment, but in real life as it is today, it’s a whole eternity away and I wasn’t prepared for it at all. It was a desperate battle to fight my way into the bathroom to organise myself and to have a good shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant today.

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

There was something going on with the clubs in the Cymru Premier League. There had been a few additions, and everyone wanted to know their names, their nicknames, how they played, all that kind of thing, so I decided that if I were to do some research on the matter, what I would do would be to do it properly and completely, and whatever I, or the other person writing it from the other end, didn’t want in the statistics, I’d pass them on to anyone else who wanted them so that they would have the same kind of start that we did last season

Yes, the Welsh Premier League is up and running already, with this new TELEVISION COMPANY that I mentioned yesterday. And there has indeed been a pile of new players coming into the league, from England, Scotland, and even places like Zambia and New Zealand. Finding out about them has been interesting to say the least.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual, except that she was rather later than usual. As she was sorting out my feet and legs, she explained that when visiting one of her patients in town earlier, her car was hemmed in by a selfish driver, and judging by this number plate, he was a tourist. To get back behind the driving seat, she had to climb in through the back door and then over the back of the front seats.

She was quite indignant about that.

After she left, I could make my breakfast, and while I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Today, he’s been steering clear of controversy as far as the “Mohammedans” go. But while he’s been talking about the overwhelming superiority of Gothic architecture, he notes here that "The finest of our Romanesque naves, those of Ely and Peterborough, are actually later in date than the advanced Transition of Canterbury choir, and but very little earlier than the pure Lancet architecture of the eastern chapels at Winchester. It is manifest then that, in some cases at least, the decaying style was retained in deliberate preference to the new."

After breakfast and having sorted myself out, I came back to the office and began to complete the notes from yesterday. With the usual waves of fatigue coming along to swamp me as I wrote, it took much longer than it should have done. It wasn’t until about 11:30 that it finally made its way on line. So if you missed Friday’s blog, you can FIND IT HERE.

Once I’d done that, there were a few other things that needed doing, and then, for about fifteen minutes, I had a little sleep. And you’ve no idea how much I enjoyed that. In fact, had I not decided to set the alarm for midday on a dialysis day, I probably would still be asleep right now.

However, I went into the dining area once the alarm had sounded and began to sort out what I need for this afternoon and for a disgusting drink and the midday medication. My faithful cleaner also turned up to apply the anaesthetic to my arm.

After she left, I went for a stroll … errrr … down the corridor, and it’s a good job that I did too because my taxi was hours early today … "about fifteen minutes actually" – ed … It was one of my favourite drivers too, so we had a good chat on the way to pick up Madame Dinosaur.

When we arrived at the site of the exposition and she had to go onto the site for her passenger, she asked me, rather nervously, "there aren’t any dinosaurs loose and wandering around in there, are there?". I put her mind at rest but I don’t think that she was convinced.

Having had an early start like that, we arrived at dialysis quite early – 13:35, in fact. And in charge of our room today was one of the young and efficient nurses who has been there for quite a while – one of my favourites in fact. And by 14:10, I was up and running. I wasn’t very impressed, though. It seemed that, because I’d left on Thursday with so much water still in me, we were going to have another gruelling session with the machine going flat-out on “max”.

Today, I settled down to watch a couple of football matches on the internet. The first one was Llandudno v Fflint from last night, followed by the live match of Cardiff Metropolitan v Trefynnon. I wasn’t able to see either match to the end because the live match started before the Llandudno game had finished and due to the early start, the Cardiff Metropolitan game hadn’t finished when it was time to be unplugged. And, of course, there were the usual blood pressure alarms that brought the nurses running every time.

Emilie the Cute Consultant was there today too. I caught a glimpse of her in the distance down the corridor. She didn’t come to see me, though, which was a crying shame. She doesn’t love me any more by the looks of things.

It was the “boss” who brought me home tonight. He was ready and waiting for me when I came out of my room and that was nice. We had a good chat all the way home, where my faithful cleaner was awaiting, and she helped me inside the apartment. When I was settled in a chair, she passed me another disgusting drink and then, in the best characteristics of the long-gone and much-missed “News of the Screws”, she “made her excuses and left”.

Once she’d gone, I could turn my attention to tea. Tonight, it was a burger on a bap with vegan salad and baked potato. For some reason, I didn’t enjoy it as much as I usually would do. I hope that my taste buds aren’t changing yet again. That would be a disaster.

When I finished tea, I came back in here to carry out a few tasks and then I attacked the notes. However, as usual after a dialysis day, when the machine has been operating at the “max”, I had the typical “wave of fatigue” flooding over me. I was reviewing what I was writing, and there was so much that appeared to be total nonsense, with spelling mistakes, typing faults and heaven knows what else besides … "nothing new here, then" – ed … I decided to call it a day and go to bed. I can finish the notes in the morning.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about doctors … "well, one of us has" – ed … apparently, the reason why Emilie the Cute Consultant had a visitor with her.
"Hello doctor" said the man. "I’ve been stung by a bee"
"No problem" said Emilie the Cute Consultant. "I’ll put some special cream on it"
"Don’t be silly, doctor" replied the man. "That bee will be miles away from here by now."

Monday 27th July 2026 – THERE HAS BEEN …

… a big wildfire this afternoon near La Havaudière, between Granville and Avranches. All of the traffic is being diverted and it’s absolute chaos down there right now.

However, for a change, it wasn’t absolute chaos in here. I ended up in bed round about 23:00 and settled down for a good sleep. At some point, though, I awoke. I’ve no idea what time, as I couldn’t be bothered to look. However, there were high winds outside and it sounded as if it might be raining. Not that I cared very much. I just crawled back under the quilt and went back to sleep.

The next time that I awoke, it was light in here so, intrigued, I had a look at the time. 06:15, so I switched off the alarm and slowly staggered to my feet. Yet another early start recorded.

When I eventually made my way into the bathroom, I had the usual good scrub-up, and I remembered to have a shave too, in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

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

I was with someone in my house, a girl, and I can’t remember who she was, but she told me that she was having a visitor round later that afternoon. Anyway, before I had the chance to leave, a large Afro-Caribbean-type of man, who came in and simply started to chat. I had a chat with him for a few minutes before I left. Then, just as I was about to go, he said “there’s someone coming up the drive. I think that it’s someone called Lucy”. The girl said “oh yes, that will be the Simpsons.” The door opened and a couple with a little girl came in. It was the little girl’s birthday today so they came into the house and came into the living room. The couple sat down but the little girl went straight over to STRAWBERRY MOOSE and began to tell him about her birthday. Then, her mother gave her a present which said it was from Strawberry Moose. Then everyone, including this man, sat down and had a little game, and that man began to look at the girl’s hair and began to rearrange it a little.

What a strange dream this is. It bears no resemblence to anything that has happened to me in my waking hours. It’s a total mystery to me.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up today as usual and chatted away about nothing as she fixed my legs and feet. Then, after she had cleared off, I could make breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

And he’s off on his high horse again. When talking about the Mosque of Amr ibn al-As, he tells us that "in the minor ornaments we cannot fail to remark the constant tendency to anticipate isolated Gothic features" What he means to say here is “Gothic architecture copied many features of Arabian architecture.”

When discussing the Palace of the Alhambra, he tells us that "No amount of mere enrichment can atone for the violation of the great law which requires every weight to have, in appearance as well as reality, an adequate sustaining mass. Nowhere is this rule less regarded than in the palace of the Moorish Kings of Granada. A slender column supports a capital of far too great projection, this again supports an overlapping stilt or fragment of entablature, and as if this were not enough to destroy all notions of mechanical support, the arch itself in many cases does not spring immediately even from this entablature, but from corbels overlapping again ; i t is thus cut off from all decorative connection with the column below, and appears suspended in the air without any sustaining power at all. Nor is the effect at all improved when, as is sometimes the case, this stilt or entablature is supported by coupled columns ; as their separation, by dividing the apparent support, even adds to the idea of insecurity."
As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … a real architect, being faced with the inconsistencies that Freeman noted, would have immediately gone to investigate the style and found out just why the building hadn’t collapsed.

Freeman’s attitude took me so by surprise that I knocked over my juice glass and the grape juice within it in surprise.

There were also all of the scores from the Welsh football matches over the weekend. Remember the other day when I told you that 53-year-old legend Marc Lloyd Williams had signed for Llanberis? He scored one of their goals in the 8-0 rout of Amlwch Town in the Welsh Cup over the weekend.

Then I came back in here to carry on work. There were several things that needed doing, and then I attacked the notes for the radio programme on which I’d been working.

In a mad fit of enthusiasm that I wish that I could recapture for use every day, I finished them all off and they are now ready for dictation, along with about a hundred others. I really must buckle down somehow and clear this massive backlog. But now that my cough is back … "and in spades, too" – ed … that’s not likely to happen for a while.

At midday, I went into the living room to sort out my disgusting drink and midday medication and to prepare myself for dialysis. My cleaner turned up a couple of minutes later to apply my anaesthetic and to make sure that I was ready to go.

To my great surprise, the taxi turned up for me at 12:40, twenty minutes early. I wish that it would do that every day. There was our usual “other passenger” to pick up at the Old People’s Home in Sartilly but even so, we still pulled up at the dialysis centre at 13:25.

Just like Saturday, I was put into a room with two other people, and there was just one nurse to deal with all of us. Even so, I didn’t have to wait very long and I was up and running by 13:55. How I wish that they could do that every time too. And there was a fair amount to take out today. The machine wasn’t working flat out, for a change, but it was near enough.

Apart from the odd low blood pressure warning which, as usual, brought the nurse running, no-one else came to bother me. If there was a doctor on duty, he or she kept his or her distance. There was the occasional glance of the doctor who thinks that he’s in charge and that he runs the show. He kept his distance too. That meant that I could crack on with work, which is always good news as far as I am concerned.

Even better news was that when I was ready to be unplugged after my session, the nurse was ready and waiting to unplug me. When she had finished with me, I weighed myself and found to my delight that the four-hour session on Saturday had done its trick and even though this was just the usual three-hour session, I was finally down to my recognised dry weigh.

At 17:20, I was ready to leave and as the driver was already waiting, with someone else to drop off in Granville, it was looking as if a 18:00 return was on the cards. However, things all went downhill from there.

At the roundabout on the Avranches side of the village of La Havaudière, the road to Granville was closed, with a couple of policemen directing the traffic down a couple of the small country lanes. In the distance, we could see fire engines and police cars.

The narrow roads were total chaos, with long lines of traffic coming both ways. We had to fight our way along as best as we could, and it wasn’t easy. A lorry coming in the opposite direction would block up the lanes for ages while the drivers of oncoming cars sorted themselves out.

To get back onto the Granville road at Le Croissant, where the road was open again, that was chaos too. A huge line of vehicles was blocked by others on the roundabout coming from Granville and going round and round and round while they were trying to make up their minds which way to go.

By the time that we’d rejoined the road, dropped off this guy and dropped me off, it was 18:20, and that was disappointing.

My faithful cleaner helped me inside the premises and once she had me settled in a chair and armed me with another disgusting drink, she went about her business and I made tea.

Tonight, I had a rice salad with plenty of vegan cheese. It should have been “plenty of vegan ham” but I hadn’t checked the packet for four weeks, and when I looked this evening, I could see that it needed a shave before anything else so it went into the bin.

There were slices of my new fruit bread for pudding, and it really was nice – definitely a success, this, with dates, raisins and cranberries.

Back in here, I checked to see what had been going on down the road, and it turned out that a forty-acre field by the roadside near La Havaudière had caught fire and was busy burning away. We’ve had a few of those now, and perhaps a really good dose of rain is called for before the whole country burns up.

Next task was to write my notes for the day but the effects of dialysis proved to be too much and I was overwhelmed by a great wave of fatigue. I posted what I had written so far and then went to bed. I’ll deal with the rest tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the fire brigade … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of the two girls from Crewe who had locked themselves out of their house while they were clubbing.
Luckily, they had left a bedroom window open so they borrowed a neighbour’s ladder to climb up.
As they were halfway up, one of the girls remarked "ohh, doesn’t it make you feel like a fireman!"
The other one replied "don’t be silly. Where are we going to find a fireman at this time of night?"

Saturday 18th July 2026 – WHAT A DREADFUL …

… day this has been today. I really don’t know where to start.

Probably, I should start at the very beginning – a very good place to start. And the beginning was actually last night when I finally managed to crawl into bed. And that was at 23:17, much later than I’d intended. I really don’t know where the time goes in the evening.

Once in bed, I managed to go to sleep quite quickly, and there I stayed until all of … errr … 03:20 when I awoke. That’s about four hours of continuous sleep, and that’s the longest continuous sleep that I’ve had for a while. However, it’s still not long enough.

From then on, I was, as usual, drifting in and out of sleep until the alarm finally went off at 06:29 as usual. And then we had the habitual struggle to rise to my feet, which took much longer than it ought.

After I’d sorted myself out in the bathroom, including having a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis, I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out what had happened during the night.

And the short answer was “nothing”. I needn’t have bothered. That was only one of the many disappointments today.

There were plenty of other things that needed doing so I sorted them out until the nurse came. He didn’t have much to say for himself today, so once he’d sorted out my legs and feet, he cleared off quite rapidly and I could make breakfast.

While I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Today, we’ve finished the Anglo-Saxon architecture, and, having made a whistle-stop tour of early mediaeval Germany, we’re now looking at post-Roman France. This seems to be one of his favourite periods, waxing lyrical about how the Gauls, the Burgundians and the people in the Midi in the Holy Roman Empire managed to improve on what had gone before.

Mind you, he’s managed to avoid controversy so far, quite possibly because I happen to agree with him to a certain degree.

However, breakfast did not pass without incident. Yesterday evening, I’d dropped a glass jar and had shards of glass all over the kitchen. This morning, a bottle of water fell out of the fridge, and I also managed to knock my orange juice all over the kitchen worktop. Still, start as you mean to go on, I suppose.

Back in here, I had a few things to do and then I started work on the next radio programme. However, round about 10:30, I could feel a wave of fatigue coming all over me, and although I tried valiantly to fight it off, I eventually …

ZZZZZZZZ

The next thing that I remember was my faithful cleaner shaking me awake. It was 12:18 and I’d been in a really deep sleep forever. It took me a while to come to my senses, and then I went into the dining area to have my anaesthetic applied.

The sleep hadn’t been wasted, though.

While I was asleep during the morning, I was dreaming about a rock group. It had to cancel half of its performances for some reason or other, especially some in the United States. The discussion went on that anyone who had a ticket for one of the events that was cancelled could use that ticket to go into a concert that they were going to play later at Rochester in New York State, not too far from New York City.

This presumably relates to a famous Beatles tour back in the early days when Ringo Starr was hospitalised with tonsilitis and there was a huge dispute between the other three about whether to cancel the tour or to find a stand-in drummer. Eventually, they found a drummer called Jimmy Nicol who knew the Beatles’ repertoire, and he flew out with them to start the tour until Starr became available again.

The taxi was a couple of minutes late today so he didn’t catch me in flagrante delicto. Today, I was the only passenger so we actually arrived at the dialysis centre early. 13:41 was on my weight ticket.

So 13:41 I was weighed, and no-one was more disappointed than me to find that I had to wait until 14:43 to be connected and up and running. And once more, it was going to be another mammoth session with the machine running practically flat out.

Once I was off, I was left pretty much alone during the session – the blood pressure only dropped once into the “critical” range. I could work pretty much without interruption, except that Stranraer was running a replay of a match that they had played against Alloa Athletic a year ago that I had missed.

When it was time to unplug me, I had to wait fifteen minutes or so for them to start, but at least the driver was waiting to bring me home when I was finally ready.

The roads were much clearer than Saturday last week, so I was home by 18:50, where my cleaner was waiting to help me into the apartment. She settled me down in a chair in the kitchen and passed me a disgusting drink before leaving.

Once she’d gone, I could make tea. A burger on a bap with salad and a baked potato, followed by two slices of fruit bread; It was all delicious and I surprised myself by almost going to cut a third slice of bread. Is my appetite returning?

After I’d finished and done the washing-up, I staggered into the bedroom and sat down at the computer. However, I hadn’t even started my notes before I was hit with an impossible wave of fatigue.

An hour or so later, after I’d awoken, I just rolled over into bed and went to sleep. The notes can wait until tomorrow.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about dropping things … "well, one of us has" – ed … a drunk man staggered out of a pub to go home when suddenly he dropped his keys.
After half an hour, several other people leaving the pub joined in the search, but no-one had any luck.
Eventually, one of the searchers came over to him and asked "Are you sure that you dropped them around here?"
"Oh no" he replied. "It was over there but it’s too dark to see anything there."

Saturday 11th July 2026 – I CAME HOME …

… from dialysis this afternoon in an ambulance, flat out on a stretcher.

However, before anyone is alarmed, there was no urgent reason for it. They didn’t have a taxi available to bring me home at that moment, so it was either wait forty-five minutes for a car to be free or else hop into an ambulance that was doing nothing.

My hopping days are, unfortunately, over and I couldn’t climb into the ambulance, so the girls who were crewing it put me on the stretcher and I had a nice relaxing ride home.

It’s about time that I had a nice relaxing time because things have been rather rough these last few days, and last night was no exception. Despite not having much to do after tea, I ended up being in bed rather later than I wanted to be. It was about 22:45 when I finally crawled into my stinking pit.

Although I went to sleep quite quickly once I was in bed, it wasn’t for long. By 01:20, I was awake again and this time, I managed to drift occasionally back to sleep. However, what sleep I did have didn’t really do me much good.

And in news that will surprise everyone, the alarm didn’t go off this morning. And for a very good reason too. At the times when it was supposed to have gone off – at 06:29 with its repeater at 06:33 – I’d already been up for a good half-hour and I’d long-since switched it off. I didn’t manage to go back to sleep and I thought that there was no point trying to force myself or to waste time when there was plenty of work to do.

The first thing to do is to listen to the dictaphone to see where I’d been during the night.

There was also a dream about collecting the empty soap containers after we’d filled up the sauce bottles in the bathroom for the clothes washing. They had plenty of them, so I was going to sort them out and give them a big wash, but when it came down to it, I couldn’t actually find them any more. I’d forgotten where I’d left them

A couple of days ago, I’d had to refill the liquid soap in the soap dispenser in the bathroom sink and also refill the shower gel container in the shower. Filling up the sauce bottles … "sauce bottles?" – ed … in the bathroom is something probably related to that.

Interestingly, though, this is one of those dreams for which I have absolutely no recollection at all. And it was the “also” that interested me. Has there been a previous dream that I might have missed somewhere?

Last night, I was staying with some people whom I knew. There was a big crowd of us. I was shown my room, which was a total mess with papers absolutely everywhere, but it was my room with my bed so I fetched in all of my papers and my music so that I could install myself. The woman of the house kept on coming in to find out what I was up to, and she was most aggressive, which is not like the girl I married at all. It was a real struggle to make myself be organised. Then I went into the living room, which was an even worse mess. My brother was there so we made one of these Japanese roly-poly things between the two of us and we rolled around the kitchen and bedroom floor for a moment. However, nothing seemed to be getting done and this woman was becoming more and more agitated, so in the end, I decided that this visit wasn’t worth it at all. I went back into the kitchen and cleaned the sink and a few things, and as soon as I’d put away the old eggshells and things like that, I went back into my room and began to tidy it, putting all the books together and all the papers together and so on in the hopes that she’d pick up on this work blue and say something, but I was beyond the point of caring. I just wanted to leave.

First of all, I didn’t marry any woman like that. Nerina had a character all of her own, including an “emotional” side that she presumably inherited from her Italian mother, but she was never aggressive. Well, not unless I’d done something to really upset her.

However, this house and the description of this woman do sound like someone and somewhere where I stayed a few times twenty-odd years ago, as regular readers of this rubbish in an earlier version will recall, and it didn’t turn out well. The aggressive side of this woman’s character was actually her real character which she kept well-hidden for a while, but she couldn’t keep up the pretence for all that long.

And what’s my brother doing, co-operating with me? That would be an event unique in history.

So going back to this dream about these houses, which I did later, there were several patches that were totally unsuitable but building houses had already begun there. And there was one where the company hall was twice the size of the one in which we’d had this meeting … "which meeting?" – ed … It seemed to be a total waste of space to me. Another one was practically in the middle of a lake with just the foundations bobbing through over the top. They should at least drain the lake and fill it in before they start building. But here, things went on and I didn’t stay there very often at all because the woman who ran it, who was normally a nice woman, had turned bitter and dour over some situation and was making life unpleasant for everyone. But while I was there that very last time, things reached such an extreme that I went into the bedroom, took the valve guides and followers out and did all of the timing. Then I could put the engine back in in exactly the right spot where it would need to fire up. And that way, it would be running from Day One.

So I’m going back to this dream, am I? Does this mean that I’ve missed another one, or is it a reference to the previous dream?

The house in the middle of the lake is interesting. I was looking at one of these street map things on line to see the changes to Shavington, where I lived from 1956 to 1970. And they’ve built houses on a field where we used to play. One thing that I noticed is that there’s a house slap-bang in the position of the old marl pit into which we fell on many an occasion. I wouldn’t like to be living in that house.

And rebuilding engines in the bedroom? I somehow don’t think so.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual to sort out my legs and feet. She was in the usual rush but she told me that tomorrow she’s going to be horribly late. It’s the brocante tomorrow in the old walled town at the back of where I live, so all of the streets are cordoned off. Consequently, she’s going to have to do some of her round on foot, which will take an age.

After she left, I could make breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

He’s continuing his tirade against Roman architecture with such comments as "Roman architecture can only take its stand on the ground of mere vastness and magnificence ; it cannot even claim so high a place as those specimens of cinquecento and debased Gothic, which often exhibit the most perfect grouping combined with the most barbarous detail."

Anyone who has ever stood underneath the Pont du Gard will tell you that it’s the “vastness and magnificence” that is the whole point of it, and the innovation and architecture that went into its design and building are phenomenal. Dismissing all of that in a couple of lines and then using the rest of the chapter to heap scorn upon it is not at all what I was expecting in a book on architecture.

Back in here, there were a few things to do and then I began to edit the next set of radio notes that I’d dictated a good while ago. They are all finished now and I’ll connect everything up the next time that I have a free moment or two.

My faithful cleaner turned up, feeling a little better than she did yesterday. She applied my anaesthetic and made sure that I had everything that I needed at dialysis this afternoon.

And then she gave me a little present. A while back, someone had given her a cutting of basil, so she had reared it in a glass of water. It’s now become a triffid, so she’s taken several cuttings, nurtured tham and now that they have taken root, she’s passed them on to everyone whom she knows, each in its own glass of water.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that it’s always been my intention to grow my own herbs, but I’ve not been able to find the correct size of window box. Now, though, it looks as if I’ve begun anyway.

The taxi was early for me today, which suits me fine. The sooner I start, the sooner I finish. But it was stifling hot in the car and I was almost suffocating. It was a day probably as warm as yesterday, I reckoned, and I was wasting it in dialysis.

When I arrived, I had the long march … "he’s in the new, air-conditioned building" – ed … to my bed via the weighing machine, to find that the nurses were already waiting for me, including the one who always likes to be a human garrot on my arm.

It was nice to be up and running by 14:05 so I could sit back and relax for a while. That wasn’t so easy, though, because the dialysis machine was on the wrong side of the bed and all of the tubes and pipes were going across my chest. I asked them why they hadn’t simply turned the bed around 180°, but the thought had never occurred to them.

So for three hours I relaxed, looked at the news and read some articles on the internet. And every half-hour, the automatic blood pressure machine kicked in, took my blood pressure, sounded the alarm and brought the nurses running. However, as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … they needn’t have bothered. Low blood pressure is the norm with me, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall.

It was another heavy session with the machine going full tilt, set at eight hundred and thirty-four millilitres per hour, just sixty-six short of the maximum, and I could tell too because near the end, I began to have the most appalling cramps in my legs and the pain in my foot, which had been missing for almost a week, came back. However, after the startling news of the other day when I was here, the doctor didn’t come back to see me. In fact, I didn’t see a doctor all the time that I was there.

When it was time to disconnect me, the nurses were, for once, ready and waiting. And it was the nurse who always wants to make the garrot who volunteered to compress my arm. I wasn’t complaining at all.

On leaving, I had to carry my own bag, which is really difficult for me as it puts me out of balance, so I was struggling. But a helpful nursing auxiliary spotted me and she took it over.

And then we had the surprise at the exit. There was an ambulance awaiting me, not a taxi. Apparently there were no cars available so it was either an ambulance or a forty-five-minute wait. It didn’t take very long at all for me to make up my mind.

They put me on the stretcher (which was nice and comfortable), strapped me in and put me in the back. Then we set off for home. And what disappointed me more than anything was that they didn’t use the flashing blue lights.

My faithful cleaner was awaiting me, and after I’d climbed off the stretcher, she helped me into the apartment, and I needed the help too after that session of dialysis. She’d also brought a cutting of mint for me, which was lovely of her. My herb garden is expanding before I even have the garden.

After she left, I made tea. Baked potato, vegan salad and burger on a bun with salad dressing, mustard, tomato, cheese and onion. And how delicious was that? My cleaner had also told me that the plants grow best in a bottle. And while the mint was in a bottle, the basil wasn’t. It was in a wine glass. However, there were two bottles of alcohol-free beer in the fridge too, so I decided to empty one of them. And that was delicious too.

Back in here, I began to write my notes but a huge wave of fatigue crept all over me and in the end, I had to abandon the procedure and finish them tomorrow morning. I’m really sorry about this.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about ambulances … "well, one of us has" – ed … a man in Florida once rang up the ambulance station. "Help! I need help urgently. An alligator has just bitten off one of my legs"
The dispatching clerk asks "which one?"
"How do I know?" replied the man. "All these alligators look the same to me."

Saturday 4th July 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone this morning.

Not that that’s any surprise, because if you don’t sleep, you can’t dream, can you?

Well, to be honest, that’s not exactly true. I was in bed by 23:15 and asleep quite quickly too, but only until just after 02:00, when I awoke.

That was rather necessary, for reasons that many people of my age will understand, but once I’d finished strolling the parapet and climbed back into bed, that was that. I just lay there and watched dawn slowly break.

When I checked the time at one point, it was 06:19 – ten minutes before the alarm, so I thought that I may as well claim an early start. I sat upright, put my feet on the floor and switched off the alarms.

As usual, it took a while to build up the courage and the enthusiasm to stand up, but once I was upright, I staggered into the bathroom for a good wash, and also a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

Back in here, with nothing on the dictaphone, I found plenty of other things to do, and it was just as well that there were because Isabelle the Nurse was late today. She told me a little about her four days’ break as she organised my feet and legs, and then she was off on her way again.

That meant that I could make breakfast and read some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.

Today, he’s not being as controversial as he has been, but he still manages to come out with another tirade about what he calls “barbarism” – "All the distinctive features of the architecture point to this origin, and we may more especially observe that we here find the key to all those peculiarities which stamp upon it a character of barbarism. First of all, its great massiveness may be well derived from this source. In a constructed building, such massiveness implies a greater expenditure of time, labour, and material, than is required in a lighter style; in a mechanical view at least it is a sign of rudeness and imperfection, occasioned either by the mistaken idea that greater strength is thus necessarily obtained, or by an actual want of sufficient skill to produce the same strength with a less amount of material."

Once again, he’s forgetting that the reason why many of these Greek temples survived was because they were quite often situated in unassailable positions. Those that were accessible to an invading army were swept away with comparative ease. But it was very, very rare for one of these massive, over-engineered stone castles of the Middle Ages to be taken by assault. If they fell, it was usually due to starvation or treachery. You build a building in accordance with what you intend to do with it.

Back in here, I carried on with what I was doing and then began to look at the following radio programme. This one will be quite complicated and I don’t have half of the music that I need, so I spent quite a while hunting it down to see what I could find.

At midday, I went to organise myself ready for dialysis and when my cleaner turned up, she applied the anaesthetic to my arm. After she left, I waited for the taxi (which was a few minutes late), but I fell asleep at the kitchen table. I was having a lovely, exciting dream which I was enjoying so much, but when the doorbell rang, it obliterated absolutely everything, which was a shame;

It was one of my favourite drivers today, and she didn’t hang around. In fact, we ended up at dialysis five minutes early. Even better, there was only one person ahead of me so by 14:10, I was up and running.

They couldn’t leave me alone, though. They’d set the blood pressure to be taken every thirty minutes, so every thirty minutes, the low-pressure alarm would ring and a nurse would come running. My blood pressure was the usual low reading between 8.5 and 9.5 so there was no cause for alarm, but they were worried because it was another one of these mega-extractions today, just like Thursday.

And when I finally did manage to drop off for a little nap, someone came over to do something by my bed and awoke me. It really wasn’t my day. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Emilie the Cute Consultant. In fact, I didn’t see a doctor on the wards at any time today.

Still, at 17:10, the alarm rang to say that the session had finished, but I had to wait a little while for them to come over and unplug me. And I was absolutely exhausted too. It had been another session with the machine going flat-out, and you’ve no idea just how tiring that is for me.

Once they had finished with me, I could weigh myself, and I’m now at the lowest weight that I have been for many, many a year – well below my “athletic” weight. It’s actually giving me some kind of concern right now;

So I staggered off wearily to the entrance lobby where my driver was waiting – the same driver who had brought me, which was nice. Unfortunately, we had to go off to find another passenger at the hospital across the road and drop him off on the way home, so it wasn’t as early back home as it might have been. Still, 18:30 is a lot earlier than some returns home have been just recently.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me as usual, and she helped me into the apartment (and I needed the help too), where I collapsed into a chair, thoroughly exhausted after that session.

Later on, I made myself some tea, a baked potato, a small salad and a burger on a bun with cheese, mustard and salad dressing. And although it was only a small meal, half of it still went into the bin. I managed the burger, some of the potato and some of the salad, but that was about it.

After the washing-up, there were a few things to do, and then I began to write my notes for today.

Halfway through, I felt the need for an enormous stretch, and that did me the world of good. I felt so much better after that. Just a little relax now, and then I’ll carry …

"ZZZZZZZZZ"

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about mediaeval castles … "well, one of us has" – ed … I once took a friend’s ten-year-old daughter to visit Beeston Castle.
As we were walking up the steps onto the walls, I told her "just think – seven hundred years ago, there used to be kings and queens, dukes and duchesses, soldiers, knights and bishops walking up these steps"
"Yes" she replied. "It’s obvious"
"Is it so obvious?" I asked her
"Ohh yes" she responded. "They didn’t have lifts in those days."

Sunday 21st June 2026 – FOR THE FIRST …

… time for a long, long time, I’ve had a day where I can truly say that I have had a real Day of Rest and done no work of any type today.

Round about 23:00 was when everything was completed and I could slide in underneath the covers. And wasn’t I grateful for that? I didn’t take long in going off to sleep and that was that, at least for a couple of hours.

Round about 02:20, I awoke with one of the biggest coughing fits that I have ever had. It was still going on at 02:55 and I forget how many times I had vomited, the fit was so intense. It was certainly many more than four.

Eventually, it must have calmed down because I somehow managed to go off to sleep again. And there I lay until I awoke, “some time later”.

The reason for the awakening was the same that has provoked a wake-up on several occasions just recently, so after a while, I began to raise myself from the Dead. 07:50 it was, so I thought that I’d better hurry before the nurse comes around.

It was 07:59 when I came back to bed. “Plenty of time”, I thought to myself. And there was, too, because I’d actually gone back to sleep by the time he came in, and he awoke me.

After he left, having seen to my legs and feet while I was in bed, I went back to sleep again, and there I stayed until I next awoke – round about 10:35. By 11:00 I was in the kitchen beginning to make my breakfast – porridge and coffee, of course, all followed by homemade croissants.

While I was eating, I was reading some more of EBURACUM OR YORK UNDER THE ROMANS by C Wellbeloved.

We’re still on Roman roads, and I have a feeling that we will be here for a while. He’s struggling over the modern names of various Roman forts, as many people still do today, but we can at least thank our lucky stars that, so far, he’s managed to keep “Richard of Cirencester” well out of the way.

Back in here, I went to have a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. But to my dismay, there was nothing on there at all. I’m always disappointed when I have a night like that, with absolutely nothing going on in the way of excitement.

Instead, I had a prowl through the internet and discovered that we’re back in football again. Many clubs playing in European competition are having a few warm-up games prior to their opening matches in two weeks’ time, and Northern Irish team Larne were playing away at our old favourites, Stranraer FC.

Stranraer usually record their games, and sure enough, THIS GAME WAS TOO with commentary by the legendary pair of Laurence Nelson and Brian Martim, two of the best TV commentators currently broadcasting.

After the match had finished, I really didn’t do anything at all. No bread-making, no pizza-making, no nothing. Instead, I had a little explore of cyberspace, mainly Hannibal’s campaign in Italy in the early days of Rome, and once again, I’m learning a lot. There are, of course, the stories of the Battle of Lake Trasimene and the Battle of Cannae, but there were several other battles that were equally disastrous for the Romans, such as the Battle of Ticinus and the Battle of Trebia, and more besides.

As well as that, I was engaged in a lengthy online discussion … "or heated argument" – ed … about a child of two separated parents. If the mother of the child is her legal guardian and she lives with her, but the mother has to go into a hospital urgently for a stay that might be for a long time, so that the child goes to live with her father, who is responsible for completing all of the paperwork regarding the new situation? The mother or the father?

There was also the question of whether the social services come into the picture at some point.

And it was all becoming somewhat overheated at some point, although I had no idea why.

At teatime, I went for my food, the other half of this vegan ham, vegan cheese and vegan salad that I made yesterday. And everything that I eat really is tasting of nothing but salt these days.

The sandwich took well over an hour to eat this evening, mainly due to me falling into several of these different cataleptic fits of the type that I used to have just before starting dialysis. I was hoping that they had long gone.

And now, I’m wishing that I had long gone because I want to go to bed, go to sleep and stay there. It’s past my bedtime, way past it already.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Hannibal’s campaign in Italy … "well, one of us has" – ed …, Someone once asked me "what do you get if you cross the Alps with several elephants?"
"Ahh yes" I said. "Victory at Cannae!"

Saturday 20th June 2026 – IT WAS A …

… better day today. But that’s not saying much. It couldn’t possibly have been any worse than yesterday. That’s definitely going to be a day that I’d rather forget.

So last night, round about 22:35, I slid into bed and went straight to sleep until … errr … all of about midnight when I had to leave the bed for reasons that any person of my age will understand.

Once I was back in bed, I was attacked by a huge coughing fit – huge to such an extent that I vomited four times. That really upset me – I was hoping that I was long past this stage.

After that, I must have somehow managed to go back to sleep, because I awoke again later. It was quite light outside, although not completely light, so I estimated the time to be about 05:45. And when I checked, it was actually 05:38. How’s that for a guess?

The reason why I awoke was because of the same reason as earlier, so I did what was necessary and then went to wash and change.

When the alarm should have gone off, I was already at my desk, working out where I’d been during the night.

There was a competition in the Crewe Chronicle about the most memorable moment at Crewe Alexandra. Now Seren, who had only been living in Crewe a few weeks, she suggested that it was the time when President Trump came to kick off a match there. He ran up to the ball, slipped on the wet turf and fell flat on his rear end with his legs in the air. She wondered what she had to do because that was the moment she would like to win the competition. I told her that the first thing she needs to do is to write to the Crewe Chronicle on the form in the paper to say that that’s what she wants. Then she needs to ask all of her friends at school, then all of the people at Girl Guides on a Tuesday night and then all of the people who go to Junior Youth Club on Friday and get them to write in too. Then if she rounds up enough people, that particular moment will win. But I certainly remembered it being extremely funny too.

Considering that this dream is based in and around 1987, “President Trump” has not yet appeared on the scene. But I for one would simply roar if he were ever to do such a thing as that.

The nurse turned up as usual and asked me how I was. I told him of all my woes but he didn’t really take much notice. He dealt with my legs and feet and then left me alone.

Once he had gone, I made breakfast and read some more of EBURACUM OR YORK UNDER THE ROMANS by C Wellbeloved.

Today, we’ve made a start on Roman roads and, so far, the good news is that “Richard of Cirencester” and his fraudulent map have not yet entered the discussion. Instead, we’re having an overall discussion and a lesson on road-building. That should keep us busy for a while.

He’s also pointed out another book to which he has referred while writing this chapter on roads. It’s an old French book from 1700 with six hundred and sixty-nine pages, and I’ve actually found a copy of it online to download for free. So that’s now added to the reading list.

Back in here, I made a start on last night’s notes, but it was no good. I couldn’t carry on and I was typing all kinds of nonsense … "so what’s new?" – ed … so in the end, I set the alarm for 12:30 and went back to bed.

Just for a change, I didn’t fall asleep again after I’d switched the alarm off. But I’m not going to imply that I was in any kind of hurry. It was more like 13:25 when I was back seated at my desk again.

There were still the notes from last night to complete, so I made a start on them. But it was a long, slow, weary me that made a start on writing and I knew that it would take forever. I wasn’t wrong either – it took me a good ninety minutes to finish them.

There was also a lengthy discussion going on about mediaeval siege engines and siege machines, and naturally, I couldn’t resist joining in to add my two ha’p’orth about it all.

And then, having had a desultory chat all afternoon online with Rosemary, she eventually rang me up. However, I don’t really know what’s happened to us just recently, because instead of a chat that usually lasts several weeks, it just lasted nineteen minutes and twenty-one seconds.

Tea tonight could have been anything, but it ended up being a rye bread sandwich of vegan ham, vegan cheese and salad. That was just about all that I could manage. At least it was something, though.

So now, I’m off to bed, hoping for a long lie-in and wondering how that will work out in the end. I bet it’s nothing like what I’ll be expecting.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about sieges … "well, one of us has" – ed … during the Hundred Years’ War, the French were besieging the town of Rouen, held by the English.
The French commander came up to the French general leading the siege and said "If you can capture Rouen within three months, I’ll give you a hundred thousand gold pieces."
Three days later, the general went up to the king and said "Rouen is taken, my Lord."
"That’s incredibly quick" said the King. "How on earth did you manage it?"
"Simple" replied the general. "I offered the English fifty thousand gold pieces to clear off."

Saturday 6th June 2026 – IT’S THE ANNIVERSARY …

… of D-Day today, so everyone in Normandy seems to be out celebrating somewhere and many anciens combattants are roaming the streets dressed in their old uniforms, medals and all.

As for me, I’ve not set foot outside the building today. Not because I’m not going to celebrate the day and not because I’m too lazy to go outside either, but there’s yet another howling gale blowing outside, and it would blow me over before I’ve even gone five yards.

How many gales have there been that we’ve had so far this year? I don’t think that I’ve ever experienced six months like this in all the time that I’ve lived here.

Last night, it was blowing a gale when I went to bed. It was early too, round about 22:30 when I slid under the covers. And although I awoke once or twice just as it was beginning to become light, I was still fast asleep when the alarm went off at 06:29.

There was no sound or sign of life from next door, which was not a surprise seeing as there was no-one there – they are both on their way home – but anyway, I dressed and slid over to the computer to begin work.

First task was to transcribe the dictaphone notes to find out where I’d been during the night.

I’d gone to a kind of dance last night in a big village hall and there were thousands of people there and we were all dancing. I found myself partnering this girl or young woman who was one of these dynamic exhibitionist types and was really not my particular kind of girl. She was very exhuberant and always took the front at dances if she could. I was still in mourning for two of my partners whom I’d recently buried. On one occasion we were dancing around and I somehow became the owner of an accordion because there was someone giving away musical instruments as people danced past. She deeply regretted not having received anything so she asked me if I’d go to pick up a violin for her. But at that moment, there was a huge swell of people and they were all dancing around in front of where this giving out of musical instruments was so it was impossible for me to fight my way through and pick up something. Then she went to sit down on a chair that was in an inconvenient place in the middle of the dance floor. As she saw me approaching, she got off the chair and sat on the floor next to the chair, which I thought was a strange thing to do, because she didn’t seem to be the kind of person who would do that. So I had somewhere to sit and she had somewhere to sit. We stayed there chatting for quite a while. But at some point, there had been a Roxy Music song that involved climbing up and bringing a ladder down. A couple of people had climbed up and undone the ladders but were unable to bring them down, so I climbed right up and managed to bring them down with them resting on my shoulder. Then I began to lower them down behind me and there was someone at the bottom waiting to take hold of them as I approached. And it was all to do with something from a Roxy Music song, but I couldn’t think which one.

At one time, I did go to ballroom dancing, believe it or not. One of my brothers in law, long before he became my brother in law, thought that it would be a good place to go to meet some female company. He didn’t want to go alone so he asked me to go with him. And actually, it was me who found some female company in the shape of Ann, and we had a very pleasant few months together

But as for the exhuberant type of girl, that wouldn’t suit me at all. I couldn’t cope with that. And I don’t understand where Roy Music and the ladder fit in all of this.

There was another dream where we had a green MkII Cortina and at the very beginning this Cortina was jacked up on one side with the wheels off the road. But it moved on down to West Street in Crewe, and I telephoned Nerina to say that I’d had a problem with the car and could she meet me at the garage at the end of the road to sort it out? She muttered vaguely something and I thought that it was “yes” so I went to an old garage service station with a big concrete apron and asked him if I could borrow the apron for an hour. In the end we agreed on a fee of five pounds for that, which I thought was probably reasonable. At the back of this garage were all these old cars from the 1920s and 30s parked up there and abandoned. I was in my element looking at them. In the garden, he had some kind of plants, one that looked like an onion, but he told me that it was a chard. He asked me if I’d ever eaten chard and I replied, “no” so he went off into his workshop and came back with something that looked like a very large onion. He said “here – you have now”. I asked him how you ate it, and he replied “with tomatoes.” I went back to my car and waited for Nerina, and waited and waited, but she didn’t appear at all. In the end, I drove away and reckoned that I’d get home OK with this problem with the car.

Of all of the cars that have ever passed through my hands, I only ever had one MkII Cortina, and that was black. And Nerina would never not turn up if she had promised or if I needed her. She was extremely reliable.

The old cars would have been something that would have interested me greatly but I have never eaten chard. In the dream it was a pale white, round vegetable like a cross between an onion and a cabbage, but in real life, it’s only the leaves that you eat.

The nurse turned up as usual and expressed his dismay at the Hound of the Baskervilles not being there, and so did I. Anyway, he sorted out my legs and feet and then headed off on his rounds. I could get on with taking my medication, making breakfast and reading some more of RECENT EXCAVATIONS IN ANGLO-SAXON CEMETERIES by T C Lethbridge.

We’ve finished Burwell Cemetery, dashed through the cemetery at Little Wilbraham and now we’re on the analysis. Interestingly, he notes that "The Anglo-Saxons had so displaced the Romano-Britons that they could plant their few villages wherever they liked and often seemed to have chosen the areas which were most favoured by their predecessors" and "agriculture did not increase for years".

And for years, I’ve been talking about the ethnic cleansing of the Romano-British population by the Anglo-Saxons and no-one has listened to me, but here we are again with another archaeologist making observations that support my theory.

After breakfast, I came back in here and after a brief pause, I began to work, adding more and yet more to MY AMAZON STORE. It’s had a grand total of seven visits so far, so here’s hoping for a few more at some point and, even better, some purchases.

Roud about midday, I dozed off for forty-five minutes and when I awoke, I went for my disgusting drink and midday medication.

Back in here later, I carried on with the Amazon store and I finally found out how to add further lists to it. I now have three lists, but one of them needs to be changed because it was only a trial run to see if it worked.

While I was working, I was chatting to a couple of friends, one being the master of the Hound of the Baskervilles and the other one being an old friend from Shavington who now lives in Crewe, just gossiping about nothing in particular

Tea tonight was baked potato, a vegan salad and some of these spinach nuggets that I bought ages ago, followed by my medication, washed down with grape juice.

And now, hours late, I’m off to bed, hoping for a long lie-in and having my socks fitted while I’m in bed asleep. But something is bound to crop up to disturb my plans. It always does.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about my friend from Crewe … "well, one of us has" – ed … he told me that the other night, he was stopped by the police while out driving at 02:00.
The policeman asked him "And where are you going at this time?"
My friend replied "“I’m going to a lecture on drinking and driving, smoking, and the effects alcohol has on the body."
The policeman then wanted to know "Who is giving a lecture at this time?"
My friend replied "That’ll be my wife."

Saturday 30th May 2026 – EVEN AS I …

… begin to write my notes, it’s 01:02 on a Sunday morning. Now this is going to be a late night … "or early morning" – ed … without a shadow of a doubt. But when work rears its ugly head and some of the folding stuff is involved, you don’t say “no”.

At least, I don’t.

Last night was rather a late night too. Because of the power cuts and everything, I was running very late and it was just coming up to 01:00 when I finally slid into bed. And I didn’t need much rocking either. I was probably asleep before my head hit the pillow.

And, having gone to sleep, I remember absolutely nothing at all until the alarm went off at 06:29. At that point, I was dead to the World and it really was a shock to my system when BILLY COTTON’S RAUCOUS RATTLE disturbed my peace.

But even though I was so tired and in such a deep sleep, by the time that the second alarm rang, I was sitting on the edge of the bed half-dressed, with the rest of the clothes to follow very shortly.

With no sound from the living room, I slid over to the computer and the first thing that I did was to transcribe the dictaphone note.

I’d been on a bus from somewhere in the centre of France to Tours and another French city not too far away. They’d been discussing some kind of employment there in some kind of factory and the more they talked to me about it, the less interest I had in it. I’d been taken on a tour of it and there was a guy there stocking margarine on the shelves. One of the margarines that he was stocking claimed to have seventeen different ingredients. I looked at the packet and there was nothing particularly unhealthy there, so I looked at my packet of “Echo” and tapped him on the shoulder. I asked him why his margarine was better than mine. He didn’t really come out with an answer to that so I left the factory and walked down by the river , and then I had to cross the road to catch the bus. I caught the bus, and then the alarm went off and everything completely disappeared. But I do remember something about Ford’s car factory, where there was some kind of job there that I went to enquire about. Then I heard that there was a train with one hundred and thirty-eight people on it coming from somewhere like Coventry or something coming down from Dagenham. All of the people on board this train were unemployed and actively looking for work.

“Echo” margarine is a blast from the past, isn’t it? There was always Echo margarine at our house when we were kids. But it wasn’t very healthy. Its advantage was that it was cheap, and that was important in our family when we were kids.

The bus ride to Tours is following in the footsteps of Charles Roach Smith on his holidays, as you will find out in early course. But Coventry would be one of the last places from where a train-load of the unemployed would come. It has one of the highest employment rates in the UK.

Still no sign of life next door so I found other things to do, but eventually there was movement, so I went in there in time to see coffee in the course of being made. I took my medication and then grabbed a mug.

Isabelle the Nurse was late this morning – she’d had plenty to do earlier – but we hardly noticed, chatting away so much. And the Hound of the Baskervilles hardly noticed her arrival but he certainly noticed Isabelle the Nurse when it was belly rub time. She’s never rubbed mine like that, not even with any ointment or cream.

After she’d sorted out my legs and feet, I could make breakfast. And while I was eating, I was reading some more of NOTES ON SOME OF THE ANTIQUITIES OF FRANCE by Charles Roach Smith again.

He’s on holiday in the Cher valley, as I mentioned yesterday, and he’s been to Tours and several other places in the vicinity. Today, he’s been at Lançey and Doué.

At Doué is a kind of amphitheatre and Roach Smith has heard that it’s Roman so he goes to have a look. However, he starts to become suspicious when he sees the windows in the subterranean galleries, saying "it has been suggested, without plausible reason, that these windows are of later date."

However, by the end of his visit, he’s saying that the author Hadrian de Valois suggests that it is "the ruins of a palace built by one of the Carlovingian kings". And while our author was a little sceptical of that claim, later history has proved Hadrian de Valois to be perfectly correct.

After breakfast the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies and I came in here to do some work. I was interrupted, though, by my faithful cleaner, who messaged me to say that she had a load of drying space empty and with the wind, washing would dry in double-quick time. My drying space is occupied by the Hound of the Baskervilles at the moment, so I took advantage of the offer and she came down to collect the washing when it was ready.

When they came back from their walkies, we went outside. We coupled up the battery to the vehicle but to no avail. There was not a spark from the battery and nothing would work. After trying out several tests, we came to the conclusion that it was totally dead.

However, the deep discharge battery that took the charge from the solar panels had enough charge in it to power the little 12-volt air compressor so we tried it with a pair of jump leads. There wasn’t enough charge to turn over the starter so when we finished outside, which was not straight away, I promise you, we brought it in here and it’s now on a trickle charge to put some more life into it and wel’ll try again tomorrow.

At that point, we stopped for coffee and had a rest, following which I had work to do, so I came in here. The work that had been “can you tell me about …” had now become “could you send me some street views of …” so I was roaming virtually all over South Cheshire and North Staffordshire, taking screenshots of various places and still describing them as I went along.

Tea was thus late tonight. We had baked potato, salad and some of my lovely vegan nuggets. They really went down well too.

After I’d washed up, I came in here and finished off the work that I’d been doing, ready to start my notes for the day. And it’s so late that I’m glad that it’s a lie-in tomorrow. When was the last time that I was up and still working at 02:30?

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the folding stuff … "well, one of us has" – ed … it reminds me of a scene from CARRY ON FOLLOW THAT CAMEL, although heavily paraphrased.
Client – "can you carry out this task for me, Mr Hall?"
Me – "not unless you say the magic words."
Client "Oh stop messing about. You’ll be well-paid!"
Me – "ahhh! So you know the magic words then!"

Saturday 23rd May 2026 – TODAY WAS NOT …

… as exciting as yesterday, which was a pity. But still, it was quite enjoyable, from what I remember of it.

Last night, I was late as usual finishing everything off and it can’t have been much before 23:30 when I finally crawled under the quilt. It wasn’t as comfortable as the other night, even in my favourite sleeping position, but I managed to go to sleep in the end.

Yes, asleep I was until all of … 03:00, when I needed to leave the bed for obvious reasons. But back in here shortly afterwards, I didn’t have any trouble at all falling asleep again.

That lasted until 06:29, when the alarm went off, and at that moment I was away with the fairies again, although not in any manner that would excite comment from the editor of Aunt Judy’s Magazine.

When the alarm went off, I was watching a boy and a girl going somewhere, walking across a deserted beach, but that was as far as it went before the alarm went off.

This is another one of those dreams that have a story behind them, but it’s a story that the World is not yet ready to hear. And it’s another one that I wish I could have seen the end so that I knew how it turned out.

There was no movement from next door so once I’d summoned up the energy to leave the bed, I slid over to the computer and did some work.

Round about 07:45 there were signs of movement in the lounge so I went in to join them, just in time to witness the coffee starting to boil. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … “what a way to start the day!”

To our surprise, when the doorbell rang and the nurse came in, not only did the Hound of the Baskervilles not bark, he paid no attention whatever. He must be getting used to the regular 08:15 – 08:30 daily visit.

After he had seen to my legs and feet … "the nurse, not the Hound of the Baskervilles" – ed … he cleared off, and I could go to make breakfast. And while I was eating, I read some more of Charles Roach Smith’s THE ANTIQUITIES OF RICHBOROUGH, RECULVER, AND LYMNE, IN KENT.

We’re still discussing coins at the moment, the hundreds and hundreds that they found at Richborough. There seem to be three guys, of whom our author is one, who had substantial collections of coins from there, some of which … "the coins, not the men" – ed … were unique and must have been worth a fortune. All this, of course, in 1841 with no government control whatsoever.

After breakfast, the Hound of the Baskervilles dragged his master off for walkies and I came in here to do some work. And by the end of the afternoon, having had several interruptions, I’d selected, reformatted, remixed and re-edited ten tracks for the next radio programme that I’ll be preparing.

It’s going to be a difficult programme to prepare because I only have a choice of thirty-six songs, not a couple of thousand as usual. And with a precise timing arrangement, it will take some juggling about. I shall have to write the notes with plenty of subsidiary facts that I can edit out if necessary.

One of the interruptions was my friend going out. He’s fallen in love with the local couscous restaurant and so, as a treat, he took himself off for a midday meal. That left me not holding the baby but babysitting the Hound of the Baskervilles. He wasn’t very happy about being left behind and came in here for a couple of strokes.

There were also the home-made croissants to prepare for tomorrow. They are all now prepared and ready, in the fridge awaiting tomorrow where they’ll be brushed with milk and baked.

As well as that, I fell asleep a few times this afternoon. Windows in here wide open, sea mist rolling around outside suddenly pierced by a few incredible rays of sunlight that warmed up my right shoulder and back and raised the temperature in my room to a wonderful 24°C, which encouraged me to take it easy and relax.

All of that was up until teatime.

Tonight’s recipe was baked potato with cheese, a vegan salad and a couple of those breadcrumbed soya fillets that I like so much. And not only did I like tonight’s tea, my friend did too. My culinary delights are spreading around Europe.

Tomorrow is, of course, pizza day and then on Monday, my friend will be making tea while I’m in dialysis. I wonder if he realises it yet.

But that’s tomorrow and Monday. Right now, I’m off to bed, ready for my lie in … "he thinks" – ed … tomorrow. However, I did mention to my friend that if there’s coffee made before I awaken, there’s a bedside table behind the head of my bed with space for a mug. The smeel will awaken me just long enough to drink it.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Hound of the Baskervilles … "well, one of us has" – ed … my friend was telling me that he’d heard from the local bar that the dog had leapt out of the window and gone down there.
When the Hound of the Baskervilles arrived, he asked for a glass of beer.
"Certainly" replied the barman, fetching a beer. "That’s ten euros, please. By the way, we don’t get many talking dogs coming here, you know."
"I’m not surprised" said the Hound of the Baskervilles "if you’re selling your beer at ten euros a glass!"

Saturday 14th March 2026 – MY VEGAN CHEESECAKE …

… is magnificent!

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I posted on here a few days ago about the dessert that I should make once my birthday cake is finished. And while most of the suggestions that I received were totally unprintable in a family-orientated blog, there wasn’t a one that made any suggestions about making a vegan dessert.

Consequently, I had to put on my thinking cap and try to invent something.

It’s a good job that I didn’t have my thinking cap on last night, because I probably would have ended up with even less sleep than I actually had. Despite pushing on as best as I could and trying all I could to avoid distractions, it was 23:30 exactly when I crawled into bed.

As usual, I managed to go off to sleep quite quickly, but once again, it wasn’t for long. At 04:20, I was wide awake again, awoken by a stabbing pain in the foot and a desperate fit of coughing.

An hour later, I was still wide awake, but I must have gone to sleep at some point because the alarm at 06:29 awoke me from a really deep slumber.

When the alarm went off, I was round at my father’s. He had an old Ford Transit van and had completely emptied it. He was going through, scraping all the mud out of the body panels and recesses because he was going to weld a new floor into it. When I had a look, I thought to myself that it’s not before time that he’s doing this. He was finding all sorts of stuff. Then he was talking about a transport company called Fitzgerald’s – apparently, I’d met them once at some kind of party but I didn’t remember. He said that Fitzgerald had told him that the company was going under. My father said that he wasn’t surprised because they were very expensive and, of course, freight has become a cutthroat industry these days. He poured a cup of coffee for me, which I drank, but it tasted weird. Then he asked me if I would make another one, so I went to wash the pan in which he’d boiled the water, and there were all the remains of boiled tomatoes in it. I thought “no wonder the coffee had tasted awful” so I went to wash it in the swimming pool there. There was a girl there who might have been Roxanne so I just picked her up and threw her into the pool and then tried to wash the pan. However, the pan was caught around the tap, and the handle broke off. I thought that this was a catastrophe. I played “peek-a-boo” with this little girl for a minute, she diving her head under the water and me ducking my head down so that I could see her under the water through the glass. Then my father came along and said to the little girl, “Eric must have put a lot of effort into throwing you into that swimming pool. I could see him straining every muscle”.

In the past, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, our family has owned all kinds of disreputable motor vehicles, many of which wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a public highway today and probably shouldn’t have been back in those days either.

However, my father was a motor mechanic by profession and in my earnest desire to out-do him, I learnt quite quickly by experience, and I also took night school courses in welding, paint spraying and lathe operation. Between us, we could keep almost anything on the road and running, although the hydraulic tappets on that Vanden Plas 4.0 with the Rolls-Royce engine had us beat for a long, long time.

When Laurence, Roxanne and I used to go to Spain to visit Roxanne’s grandfather, I used to throw Roxanne into the swimming pool on regular occasions, especially when she wasn’t expecting it. She used to squeal but she loved every minute of it.

As for making coffee with water in a dirty pan, that wouldn’t surprise me at all.

As usual, it took a few minutes for me to struggle to my feet, and then I staggered off to the bathroom for a good wash. There were also the undies to wash. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … it’s important for me to keep on top of the washing of clothes like that.

In the kitchen, I made my hot drink and then took my medication. And then I came back in here to listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night.

I was doing something with several sheets of glass last night, picking them up off different piles, each pile that represented a country in the EU. I was washing one of them so that I could build some kind of fortress somewhere on behalf of each of the countries, but that’s all that I remember of this.

A fort made of glass wouldn’t be of much use now, would it? It makes me wish that I could remember the rest of this dream so that I could find out what happened.

Later on, I was watching a football match involving Pionsat. Twice, from corner kicks down in the far left-hand corner, the Pionsat winger kicked the ball far too hard and sent it completely out of play on the full on the other side of the pitch. I thought that Pionsat couldn’t afford to waste all of these little moments that they have, because they aren’t a very good side and they need all the breaks they can get. A high ball into the penalty area can cause enough confusion to enable them to sneak a goal every now and again, particularly when they have all the players running in as the ball is kicked. But no, both of them went way out of play on the full without bouncing.

This is one thing that bugs me in a lot of football matches these days. The quality of freekicks and corners is pretty abysmal. As I said during the dream, a high ball right into the centre of the goalmouth can cause chaos and panic, and every now and again, something will come out of it.

But most clubs these days seem to want to mess about with the ball in all kinds of fancy tricks, most of which usually lead to them losing possession.

However, dear reader, read on ….

The nurse turned up as usual, just as I was in the middle of a really interesting chat with a couple of friends. I had to go off instead to have him see to my feet.

And today, he managed to avoid touching my really bad right foot. Instead, he dropped the heavy stool right onto it, and I was in agony for hours.

After he left, I made breakfast and read some more of ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A Miller.

Today, we’re reading about how the Marquisate of Boudonitza held out desperately against the Ottomans for many years until 1414, when the Sultan Mohamed I finally captured it. Now, we’ve moved on to discuss Ithaca, the legendary home of Odysseus, if we are to believe the Ancient Greek authors.

Back in here, I had a few things to do, and then I made a start on editing some radio notes that I’d dictated a while back.

After a while, I had to stop because there was football on the internet – Y Fflint v Y Bala.

This was a game that Y Bala had to win if they were to have any chance whatever of avoiding relegation, and so they went at it hammer and tongs. Y Fflint could also have done with a win to haul themselves further away from the relegation zone, but for some reason, Y Bala’s aggressive start to the game knocked Y Fflint out of its stride.

Y Bala had the ball in the back of the net but it was ruled out for an offside, something that was disputed by many people in Cae y Castell this afternoon. Y Fflint took the lead – from a high ball floated in from a corner – but Y Bala equalised, from a high ball in from the wing.

So we had two poor teams rampaging at each other from one end to the other throughout the whole ninety minutes and playing the game as it ought to be played, in my opinion.

But a 1-1 draw? Leaving aside the “offside” goal, in the immediate build-up to Y Bala’s goal, I saw a handball by Y Bala’s Australian striker Jacob Tarasenko, and I would have awarded a penalty to Y Fflint for a blatant shirt-tugging that prevented a Fflint player from reaching a ball in the penalty area.

However that wasn’t all. Another thing that really gets my goat is this modern fascination of “playing it out from the back”, which has led to more disasters and calamities than games that it has won.

But not Joel Torrance in the Bala goal. The former Salford City keeper just kicked the ball as far upfield as he could, and that caused continual panic and chaos to the Fflint defence throughout the game. Why more teams don’t do this, especially against TNS whose central defence is … errr … somewhat “pedestrian” I really don’t know.

Y Fflint’s manager, Lee Fowler, was very dismissive of the game, but I for one quite enjoyed it.

After the football, I went into the kitchen to make my cheesecake.

This was a recipe that I saw in a magazine, and when I looked at it, I reckoned that I could transform it into a vegan recipe with no problems at all, especially as I now have a regular supply of aquafaba, now that I know that it can be frozen.

And it worked too – and in spades. When I sampled some for pudding later, it was absolutely delicious and I’ll make some more like that too.

One thing that I needed was some soya yoghurt, but my faithful cleaner couldn’t find any yesterday. However, just as I’d put it into the oven, she came in waving a pack of six around.

While I was at it, I made some more croissants too. And these also worked in spades. They didn’t have any of the really cheap flaky pastry, so this is the next price up – and it seems to make all the difference.

There was still an hour or so for tea so I finished off editing the radio programme, preparing the two halves, choosing the joining track and preparing it, and then writing the notes.

Tea tonight was falafel with vegan salad and baked potato with cheese, followed by cheesecake. And I’m still not enjoying the first course as much as I used to just recently. I think that my appetite might be changing again.

But not now, because I’m off to bed, ready for my important Sunday lie-in, if the nurse doesn’t drop anything else on my foot while I’m in bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about cars … "well, one of us has" – ed … I’m reminded of an American who was in a bar in Ireland doing his usual American stunt of “showing off”.
"Your farms are so small and pathetic" he said. "Why, back in Texas, I could get into my car and at the end of three days’ driving I still wouldn’t have reached the boundary of my land."
"I know exactly how you feel there." replied a local at the end of the bar.
"You do?" exclaimed the American, incredulously.
"Oh yes" replied the local. "I used to have a car like that myself."

Friday 13th March 2026 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

… night that was, last night.

And it started off quite well too. Without very much to say about the day, I’d finished the notes by about 21:50, and by 22:10, I was in bed. Well before my curfew time of 22:30, and it’s been a long time since that happened, hasn’t it?

However, regular readers of this rubbish will recall what usually happens when I go to bed early, without me having to remind them. And it was at 04:10 too.

This time, though, it was something different that awoke me. First of all, it was a coughing fit of the like that I had not had before, and at the same time, there was the stabbing pain in my foot. Except that this time, it was like an electrical discharge going all the way down from the rear of the instep to the tip of the little toe.

One of those every minute or so, and I was having the worst amount of pain that I’d had since that muscular biopsy. But at least the muscular biopsy pain only endured for a minute or two. This electrical discharge was a sudden, sharp pain that lasted about three or four seconds but was continuous every few minutes.

There was no possibility of going to sleep and no possibility of leaving the bed, so I lay there and festered until 06:29 when the alarm went off. After a minute or two, I managed to haul myself to a sitting position in the bed, and then we had the usual struggle to leave the bed.

When the alarm went off, though, we were in Pionsat. It was 16:00, school chucking-out time. There was quite a lot of traffic coming round a corner and I remember saying to whoever I was with that this really isn’t the time to be in Pionsat right now. But again, that’s all that I remember of that.

This dream reminds me of yesterday, in Carolles, where we went to pick up that other passenger, and then an incident in St Jean le Thomas when we were trying to negotiate the narrow streets of the town.

In the bathroom, I had a good scrub and then went into the kitchen for the hot drink and medication. And guess who forgot that he’s now moved the medication into a drawer in the kitchen?

Back in here, I transcribed the rest of the dictaphone notes from the night.

Last night, it was one of the big battles between the Crusaders and the heathens, but this time it was near Constantinople towards the end of the Byzantine government’s rule. The Franks were badly defeated and their only hope was to send out for young kids to carry on the fight in the hope that they could do something to stop the Muslim hordes advancing and overwhelming the country, but that looked to be a really most unlikely situation.

This, of course, relates to ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT, the book that I’m reading at the moment, of course.

I was at grammar school, and towards the end of the previous year, I’d been talking to a girl who was in the first year – we’d been talking over the internet or over the ‘phone etc. We were back at school for the next year, and I rang her up again to ask her how things were. She told me that she’d finally managed to change her history teacher or geography teacher. She hoped that whoever she had was much nicer, and she told some rather lurid tales about the previous one. So I laughed and said “yes, you’ve certainly changed him. We have him this year, to which she laughed. We carried on chatting on the ‘phone for a while, and then I had to go. Then, there was something happening and everyone found themselves confined to their rooms. I went and had a wash and clean-up, and then rang up this girl and told her what had happened and why didn’t she come along to my room instead of hers and have a chat? I’m sure that the people who share with me wouldn’t object. I came out of the bathroom carrying a dirty dish and was immediately given a lecture about “no dirty dishes allowed in the rooms”, which I thought was rather strange, so I put the dish down and went into the room. There was a girl there whom I didn’t recognise. She was an enormous girl, and it wasn’t until she began to speak that I realised that this was the girl to whom I’d been speaking on the ‘phone so often.

As if we had the internet when I was at school. And mobile ‘phones.

This story about an “oversized” person is interesting too. Regular readers of this rubbish will recall from things that I have said in the past that I keep a pretty close eye on my weight, and so should other people, I reckon. I’m not into this “big is beautiful” idea when it comes to people.

And at our school, we didn’t have many lurid tales to tell about the teachers at our grammar school, except for one who ended up with a two-year prison sentence, although there could quite easily have been a few similar. Mind you, we used to make up quite a few, and they quickly gained currency amongst the more gullible pupils.

The nurse turned up as usual, so I told him about my bad night and the agony that I was suffering with my foot. I warned him to be very careful, so didn’t he go and put his hand right on it?

After I’d come back down from the ceiling, he finished sorting out my legs and feet, and then he cleared off on his rounds. I could go about making my breakfast and read some more of ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A Miller.

We’re still in the Ionian Islands today, and it seems that, in Corfu at least, the locals did experience some kind of sanity and better judgement and managed to keep themselves out of the hands of the Ottomans. However, for a period, they did fall into the hands of the French, then the British, and later on, the Italians.

Back in here, I was about to start work when I had a visitor. The electrician sent by the estate agency came to inspect my telephone wiring. I sent a message to my faithful cleaner to invite her down to see him in action to find out what’s going on.

He spent ages here searching for the telephone cabling and eventually found it, after much searching, behind the wall in the wardrobe cupboard. He didn’t have with him all of the equipment that he needed, so he promised to return later.

After he left, I finished off the notes for the radio programme that I’d begun the other day, and they are now ready for dictation.

There was a pause next for a disgusting drink, and then my cleaner came down again, this time to do her stuff. We were interrupted by the return of the electrician, who managed to thread a tracing cable through part of the conduit, and now he reckons that there should be no problem for the fibre-optic people to install the cable.

In the middle of all that, there was another interruption. The postie came by with a big parcel for me. I’ve ordered some new waste bins, the sort that slide out like a drawer, because I’m struggling with the ordinary type of waste bin with the swinging top. I really need two hands for that type of bin, but I need one to hold myself upright.

As well as that, there’s a new computer hard drive. That’s for my late birthday present, which arrives next week, with a bit of luck, God’s help and a bobby.

After a brief … errr … relax, which is hardly surprising given the bad night that I had, I sorted out the plans for the next two radio programmes that I’ll be preparing next week. And for one of them, I’ve already chosen the music and written the notes, and I’m right now in the throes of editing the music that I need.

For the other programme, I’ve made a list of the songs from which I’ll be choosing those that will be included in the programme.

Tea tonight was a burger on a bap with chips and salad, followed by the last of the birthday cake and some more home-made ice cream. I didn’t enjoy the salad and chips as much as I would have liked, though. Having only recently recovered my taste buds, I don’t want to start losing them again so soon. It makes me wonder what on earth is going on with my body.

But I’ll worry about all that tomorrow. Right now, I’m off to bed, to sleep if the agonising pain in my foot and these severe coughing fits let me. I honestly can’t take much more of these.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the teachers at my old grammar school … "well, one of us has" – ed … on one occasion, following a series of arguments in our history class, it all came round to the teacher shouting, in an exasperated voice, "if anyone believes or thinks that he or she is stupid, stand up!"
So, of course, I stood up.
"Do you really believe or think that you’re stupid?" she shouted
"Not really, miss" I replied "but I felt really sorry for you, standing there all on your own like that."

Saturday 7th March 2026 – THIS REALLY BUSY …

… spell that I had yesterday and the day before seems to have continued today too. Mind you, I let a really golden opportunity slip through my fingers, but more of that anon.

Last night, it was another late night … "as it will be tonight" – ed … and it was again about 23:15 when I finally struggled into bed after I’d finished listening to Colosseum.

Once again, I managed to go to sleep quite quickly, and there I stayed until all of … errr … 04:01 precisely when I awoke. It was too early to raise myself from the Dead so I lay there vegetating, being totally unable to go back to sleep.

At what I thought would be about 05:30, I thought that I may as well leave the bed and dictate the radio notes that I’ve been writing, but on checking the time, I found that it was actually 06:05 and the alarm would be going off very shortly.

That was certainly a missed opportunity – I could have dictated all of the radio notes and been totally up-to-date again in that respect, but at 06:05, it’s far too late to make a start.

Nevertheless, I managed to raise myself into a sitting position, and by 06:20 I was up and about and heading to the bathroom. An early start, sure enough, but not the early start that I wanted or needed.

After a really good wash, I went into the kitchen and now that I have some fresh lemons thanks to Leclerc, I could make my drink correctly and take my medication.

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

I was on my way to see some friends. I arrived in a city and I was on a bus, and because my mobility is restricted, I ended up in a hotel in the city centre in the early afternoon. The first thing that I did was to ask a few questions to a kind of robot writer. I wrote down some questions and it wrote out the answers, then it asked me if there was anything else that I needed. I said that I had to speak to some friends so the first thing that I did was to write “hello” to one of my friends, but I didn’t receive a reply, so I sent another brief message to one of my friends. She wrote back to say that she was pleased to see me and that the papers that I wanted were outside her lock-up garage in some kind of 17th- or 18th-century box, and this is the time when most neighbours won’t really complain about people hanging around there, so maybe I would like to go along and move them. I explained that I was not able to travel and couldn’t make it up there on my own, so she came back with a message “would you like me to prepare a meal for you?”. I was hoping to see my other friend who wasn’t in, but nevertheless I replied “yes, that would be really nice”. Then she told me about how she could make some kind of container. I sent back “what? Do you mean out of a lump of bread?” but she replied “no, out of a lump of butter”. I thought that that was not going to be a very good idea at all, to try to make a container out of a lump of butter.

It’d been a long time since I’ve thought about a robot writer – the 1960s and 1970s precursor to Artificial Intelligence and the display screen.

But of course, there’s the phenomenon of “automatic writing”, where some people can go into a trance while holding a pen, and it’s as if another being takes over and begins to write with your arm, hand and pen, with you having no control over it.

That’s something that has happened to me, and I’d love to know in what language you’d find the words ” XDFVV CHXWD BBBQC”.

Making a container out of a lump of butter would be interesting too. I hope that it wouldn’t be for holding hot food.

Isabelle the Nurse turned up as usual and sorted out my legs and feet, being really delicate around the sole of my right foot as the pain was back this morning. She was running late for a blood test so she couldn’t hang around.

After she left, I made breakfast and read some more of ESSAYS ON THE LATIN ORIENT by William A Miller.

Today, we’re dealing with the winding down of the Frankish empire in modern Greece, the attacks by the Catalans, the Navarese and the Genoese, and the capture and sack of Constantinople in 1453 by the Ottomans.

The Ottomans are now preparing to move into Greece, and this is probably the saddest part of the whole procedure

During the morning (and some of the afternoon) I’ve been rearranging the things in the kitchen drawers, making it all more user-friendly. I’ve now ended up with a large drawer completely empty, and my cunning plan is to move all of the medication into it instead of having it lying scattered around all over various shelves and drawers. It will be much nicer, much more user-friendly and a lot less dispiriting when I don’t have to look at it every time I’m in the living room.

There was football at lunchtime, Y Fflint v Dinas Bangor, in the semi-final of the Welsh Cup. Bangor, from the third tier, were hoping to be the first club from their level to reach the final but Y Fflint, struggling in the Premier League, are hoping to win the cup for the first time since 1954.

Unfortunately, despite having done so well to reach the semi-finals, it was one step too far for Bangor. What stood out for me was the difference in quality between the Fflint and the Bangor players, which is only to be expected. Y Fflint were much quicker to the ball and seemed to be able to find a colleague with a pass, even when under a lot of pressure.

But congrats to Y Fflint and commiserations to Bangor.

And also congratulations to former JD Cymru League striker Will Evans, who played for Cardiff Metropolitan and Y Bala. Now playing in the English First Division with Mansfield Town, today he scored a goal against Arsenal to go with the one that he scored against Manchester United a couple of years ago.

Tomorrow, we had a first-v-second division encounter between Caernarfon and Y Rhyl, which you CAN WATCH HERE at 13:15 UK time, 14:15 CET or 08:15 Toronto time.

The rest of the day, I’ve been editing some of the radio notes that I’d dictated in that mad session the other morning. I managed to deal with no fewer than five programmes – admittedly only the notes for joining tracks – and now that’s five more radio programmes totally completed, all the way up to 2nd October. As I said, I want my radio shows to live on after I’ve gone.

There was even time to begin the research on yet another radio programme, in addition to the one that I began yesterday. This one today will take me all the way up to 27th November.

Tea tonight was the last of these breadcrumbed nuggets that have been hanging around in the freezer since Adam was a lad, with vegan salad and a baked potato – with vegan cheese in the slits instead of vegan butter. It was followed by some of my birthday cake and home-made ice cream.

But as for the nuggets, there are a few that I’ve bought recently, and the aim is to take them out of their shop packaging and tip them into an old ice cream container so that they are better-protected in the freezer than in a plastic bag.

But anyway, that’s for tomorrow, maybe. Right now, I’m off to bed.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about the Sack of Constantinople "well, one of us has" – ed … I asked one of my friends "did you know that the Ottomans sacked Constantinople in 1453?"
"Really?" he asked. "Who did they appoint instead?"

EPIC HALL

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

Tag Archives: vegan salad

Monday 17th August 2026 – THESE UNHAPPY, UNCERTAIN …

Monday 10th August 2026 – DON’T BE SURPRISED …

Saturday 1st August 2026 – YET ANOTHER DAY …

Monday 27th July 2026 – THERE HAS BEEN …

Saturday 18th July 2026 – WHAT A DREADFUL …

Saturday 11th July 2026 – I CAME HOME …

Saturday 4th July 2026 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

Sunday 21st June 2026 – FOR THE FIRST …

Saturday 20th June 2026 – IT WAS A …

Saturday 6th June 2026 – IT’S THE ANNIVERSARY …

Saturday 30th May 2026 – EVEN AS I …

Saturday 23rd May 2026 – TODAY WAS NOT …

Saturday 14th March 2026 – MY VEGAN CHEESECAKE …

Friday 13th March 2026 – WHAT A HORRIBLE …

Saturday 7th March 2026 – THIS REALLY BUSY …

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