Tag Archives: vegan stir fry

Thursday 17th April 2025 – I HAD NOTHING ON …

… the dictaphone this morning when I went for a listen.

Mind you, I’m not surprised. If you don’t go to bed until 01:30 and wake up at 06:00 you don’t have much time for travelling about

If I had put my mind to it, I could have been in bed much earlier but as usual I hung about for a while and when a Judy Collins concert came round on the playlist, I decided to stay up and listen to it. These days she’s not the same as she was 5o years ago but what she’s lost in her vocal power she’s more than made up for with her ad-libbing in her concert.

She has a very pleasant stage act these days and I have to make the most of it.

In bed, I took a while to go off to sleep and had something of a mobile night where I was tossing and turning, not being able to settle, and as it became light I gave up the struggle. I didn’t leave the bed until the alarm went off because I turned the heating off on Wednesday and hadn’t switched it back on again.

When the alarm went off I put my sooty foot out of bed and braved the cold as I dashed into the bathroom for a wash, and then into the kitchen for the medication.

And then back into the bathroom because I’d forgotten to have a shave and I was looking like the Wild Man of Borneo – not a good image if Emilie the Cute Consultant is going to be there this afternoon.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone, which didn’t take very long at all, and then carried on with some personal stuff for a while.

The nurse was late today and didn’t have too much to say for himself. He was soon gone and I could make breakfast and read MY BOOK.

Our whistle-stop tour is continuing and we have arrived at Kenilworth Castle. Pages and pages of tour-guide information but nothing whatever about the military aspect of the place, and nothing at all that would excite comment. Oh! For the controversy that someone like T RICE HOLMES could bring to this kind of discussion.

Back in here I sorted out a plan for a couple of radio programmes in March next year (I really am that far ahead).

To my surprise, I found that for one of the dates I have a concert in my little … "not so little" – ed … stock that we recorded on a weekend in Den Haag years and years ago – and it’s NOT Golden Earring or Alquin either

It’s almost one hour and twenty minutes long so I reformatted and remixed it for the radio and then had a listen to it. It didn’t take long to make a list of the tracks that I want to use and it will make a nice concert of just the right length.

My cleaner turned up to fit my patches and after she left I went to have my disgusting drink but the taxi arrived before I’d even had time to wet my mouth.

We were the usual two passengers for dialysis with the driver and although we arrived early, there was quite a crowd already waiting so I was one of the last to be connected. And as I suspected, I had to stay here for four hours.

Although Julie the Cook wasn’t dealing with me, she came for a chat, and although Emilie the Cute Consultant was there, she sent an oppo to see me. There’s a problem about my calcium medication and I needed a substitute so he wrote out a different prescription.

Apart from that I was left pretty much to my own devices all afternoon and spent it making out my LeClerc order for tomorrow. When my nurse came to unplug me she fitted these new braces on my shoes to support my feet. Apparently Emilie the Cute Consultant is worried that I no longer have any force in my ankles

The driver who brought me home was quite chatty. He’s taken me to Paris a couple of times and he’s also a big football fan so we had a lot in common.

My cleaner was waiting for me and watched as I climbed the stairs. She thinks that these braces are helping me up the stairs, which is a good thing.

Tea tonight was a stir-fry with a pile of the mushrooms that I have left that I forgot to put in the lasagna last night. I really don’t know where my brain has gone. But my chocolate cake is delicious.

So tonight I won’t be as late as last night. There’s a concert currently playing, involving John Cipollina, whom I met when he played with “Man”, and Nick Gravenites, Mike Bloomfield’s favourite singer who fronted “The Electric Flag” for a while. So when it finished I’ll think about going to bed. It won’t be as late as last night, but I bet that it won’t be early.

But before I go, seeing as we have been talking about Judy Collins… "well, one of us has" – ed … she told several interesting stories during her act.
She told of Mae West who met a friend who was wearing a fur coat.
"My dear" said Mae West "Wherever did you get that fur coat?"
"I spent the night with a man who gave me ten thousand dollars" replied the friend
A few weeks later the two met again, but this time it was Mae West wearing the fur coat
"My dear" said the friend. "Did you spend the night with a man who gave you ten thousand dollars?"
"Well, no dear" replied Mae West. "I spent the night with ten thousand men and they each gave me a dollar!"

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Thursday 10th April 2025 – THAT WAS AN …

… absolute disaster at the dialysis centre today.

Over the past three days, from Monday until today, I have accumulated so much water that not only did they make me stay for four hours, and not only did they have the machine set at the max, it still didn’t clear all of the excess water.

No-one has much of a clue as to what that signifies because everything else is as normal, or as normal as can be. There are no unexpected results at all from any of the tests that they carried out.

Brooding on the infinite is something on which I seem to be spending so much time these days, especially when I thought that I was doing so well too. I seem to be going two paces forward and then three steps back.

Take last night, for example. I might have been late finishing, but not as late as all of that. And I was backing up the computer when it stalled. I seemed to have caught it right in the middle of an upgrade so I had to wait for it to finish what it was doing and then restart. And system upgrades these days are not things of five minutes

Eventually I crawled off into bed when everything was finally finished, horribly late of course. But once in bed, there I stayed until the alarm went off, pretty much without moving, although there was the occasional twinge from the stabbing pain in my heel that awoke me every now and again.

When the alarm went off I was fast asleep and it was a desperate stagger to my feet before the second alarm went off, and thzn I toddled off in an undignified fashion to the bathroom where I even had a shave 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 off driving taxis again last night. I’d begun to drive for someone for whom I used to drive when I first began driving taxis. He ran through the procedure of what I needed to so I’d gone off to the rank for my first shift. When I awoke I was in the middle of cashing up at the end of the shift next morning.

How many nights in succession is it now that I’ve been dreaming about driving taxis? Whether or not it is my subconscious telling me something, there’s nothing whatever that I can do about it now.

Later on I’d gone back to sleep again and gone back into that dream again. I was just starting my first shift after having played in goal for the football team for a while in the afternoon. It was a pretty slow start and in fact we were 4-0 down at one point but one of our players won a penalty and managed to score it to make the score 4-1. That way we were able to at least try to keep in touch with the other team rather than be cast adrift at the bottom already because it was going to be very tough for some teams this season with all of the new controls to make sure that they are doing OK and progressing so I was sorting myself out at the start of my first shift at this game of football.

This is a complete mess of a dream … "just like all of the others" – ed … that flits about from one subject to another. As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … I enjoyed playing goalkeeper but I didn’t think that I was much good because I was always the third-choice. But apart from the lack of height, I was cheered up a few years later when I discovered that our first-choice keeper had become a professional playing for Wycombe Wanderers and our second-choice keeper had signed semi-professionally for Northwich Victoria in the Conference League. Mind you, I still might have been rubbish.

Finally, I’d been to Leicester because our little travel group was having a meeting there. When I arrived I was wandering around waiting to meet my friends but found out that the meeting had actually been cancelled because one of them had something rather important to do and she couldn’t make it. As I was walking around I bumped into him. We had a little chat and he excused himself and said that he had to go. He asked me how things were. I told him that I was still looking for Lincoln Road in Leicester because I’d seen a map that there were several streets off it with names like “Ley Street” etc. That had to be extremely interesting with regard to these books that I’d been reading. Why would they name a street after a ley line? He had a vague idea of where it is. he also mentioned one or two other streets with similar prehistoric types of names with them. After he left, I carried on walking. I came to the big supermarket. As I walked onto the car park I saw my van. The rear door was open and someone was looking inside it. I walked up to the van, grabbed the person, threw them into the van, closed the door and locked it.

It looks as if I’ve been reading too many of these late Nineteenth-Century history books, what with ley lines and all of that, prehistoric monuments and neolithic stone circles. And I haven’t really seen my friends for so long.

Interestingly though, when I was typing out the final dream a vision came into my head, and I have a very vague memory of being inside the supermarket looking at these combined telephone holder/charger things that we used to have for the car back in the olden days and trying to buy one for the new ‘phone.

When Isabelle the Nurse came in, I had a present to give her. However, if you are eating your tea right now, you don’t want to know what it was. I suspect that she knew, because she wasn’t at all grateful.

After she left I made breakfast and read some more of MY NEW BOOK. We’ve interrupted our whistle-stop tour of English and Welsh castles for a good ramble around the castle at Guildford.

It’s the full guided tour today, having pointed out to us all of the architectural features. But that’s “architecture” – it’s not the “military” that I was expecting, judging by the title of the book.

After breakfast I had some tidying up to do and then a few things on the computer needed my attention. I was still so engrossed when my cleaner arrived to fit my patches.

After she left I had a disgusting drink while I waited for the taxi to arrive and then we set off in the lovely weather to pick up someone else on our way to Avranches.

Our driver was one of the very chatty ones so we had quite an animated discussion all the way there. And then I had the bad news about the water retention.

If that wasn’t bad enough, we’re back to the “hurting like hell” again. It was a new nurse who presumably hasn’t heard of the new procedure and stuck my needles into the previous location.

Everyone was flapping around me today trying to identify what was going wrong with my body. Everyone except of course Emilie the Cute Consultant who kept her distance.

With the machine on maximum power, I was totally exhausted by the time that they unplugged me and dismayed by the fact that all of the liquid hasn’t gone. It was a very weary me who fell into the arms of my taxi driver.

We had a nice chat too on the way home, and then I had to face the climb upstairs, and I really was in no mood for it but I managed it all the same. Having been late leaving, going to pick up someone else, the four hours in the centre, it really was late this evening.

Tea tonight was a stir-fry, and this time I remembered the bean shoots. It was probably very nice but I was in no mood for it.

In fact, I was in no mood for anything and right now I’m going to bed, I reckon, and sleep until Armageddon.

But in news that will come as quite a surprise, Prince Andrew was admitted to the hospital in Avranches with some kind of complaint.
After a thorough examination the doctor told him "we have some good news for you. We’ve checked your prognosis and the symptoms are quite minor"
"What a pity my mother has died" replied the Prince
"why is that?" asked the doctor
"Well, I had a similar problem in the USA once but my mother paid her millions to go away"

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Thursday 3rd April 2025 – I HAD TO …

… stay for four hours today at dialysis. Apparently the weight to be extracted was such that it over-ran the three-and-a-half hour limit

But Héloise was very nice to me. She kept the machine wound up so that I would leave there ahead of my target weight so in principle we shall see how that unfolds on Saturday.

My evening last night unfolded just the same as any other just recently. It was late when I finished what I had to do, and later still by the time that I plucked up the courage to go to bed. And another disturbed night saw me tossing and turning in my bed without being fully asleep.

There were a couple of times when I was wide-awake and I remember thinking that I may as well rise up in a couple of minutes, but when the alarm went off I was actually fast asleep.

It took a minute or two to find the energy to leave the bed and then I staggered off into the bathroom where I had a good wash, scrub up and even a shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon.

After the medication I came back in here to see if there was anything on the dictaphone, and to my great surprise, there was. In the middle of the night I was miles away but the moment that I went to reach for the dictaphone the whole lot evaporated – every single moment, every single memory, every single thought of it. I couldn’t remember a single thing about it.

As long as neither Castor nor Zero nor TOTGA nor Moonchild were appearing in it, it’s not really all that important, although it is rather sad that my favourite young ladies have been conspicuous by the absence of late.

This next time it was connected with health issues. I’d been diagnosed all kinds of various treatments, much of which I thought was superfluous so I hadn’t been very attentive to the prescription. I’d been taking medicines when I felt like it, even abandoning some. Every time I went to see the doctor they went on increasingly wildly about it. On one occasion I went into a laboratory to do something and there was actually one of my doctors there. She gave me a really long lecture and a dressing-down about everything, how it had all been done for my own good etc. All that succeeded in doing was to annoy me. I spoke to a friend about it afterwards and told him what I thought, that I was still unconvinced by these medication arguments. However the dream drifted on like that with me being stubborn and the medical service being more and more insistent. It went o for hours but I can’t remember the rest of it. However, there was quite a lot of treatment that they were giving me that didn’t seem to make any sense at all. I just didn’t see the point in going ahead and taking it.

And that’s a contentious issue around here, right enough. The medical people have different aims than me, and that’s the root of it all. Their aim is to keep a patient alive for as long as possible, and the longer they stay alive, the more of a success it is. For me, it’s the quality of life that counts. I have no intention whatever of clinging on to life by the edge of my fingertips with no dignity just to please the medical staff.

Kingsley Amis once said "No pleasure is worth giving up for the sake of two more years in a geriatric home in Weston-super-Mare". Percy Penguin once told me a delightful story of an old woman who had received a large box of chocolates and was stuffing them down one after the other.
"You’ll be ill eating them like that" said Percy Penguin
"I’m ninety-eight" the old woman told her. "What do I care?"

And me? Stubborn? Perish the thought!

The nurse came around but he didn’t stay long. He was soon out of the door and I could crack on and make breakfast.

We started our new book today – MEDIEVAL MILITARY ARCHITECTURE IN ENGLAND. It’s a collection of articles that appeared in magazines, mainly “The Builder”, at the end of the 19th Century.

And we become embroiled in controversy at the first page when the very first example of “medieval military architecture in England” talks about Dolforwyn Castle which, as far as most people in the neighbourhood are concerned, is situated in Wales, near the town of Abermule in Powys.

However, no-one should be surprised by this. The “Wales and Berwick Act 1746” (20 Geo. 2. c. 42) made a statutory definition of England as including England, Wales and Berwick-upon-Tweed and it wasn’t until the passing of the Local Government Act of 1972 that Wales was accorded any statutory recognition.

And there I was, thinking that this book isn’t likely to be controversial.

Back in here I had my Welsh homework to do, seeing as how I was distracted on Monday. I’ve done about half of it right now and I’ll finish off the rest on Monday next week.

My cleaner came along and interrupted me to fit my anaesthetic patches and after she left I had to wait for the taxi to arrive. There were two of us in the taxi with the driver and it was a fairly quiet drive all the way there.

For a change, I was one of the first people in there today and I was looking forward to being one of the first out too, but the weighing machine told a different story. The nurses tried to run my machine for three and a half hours but Emilie the Cute Consultant insisted on four hours. She probably wanted to see me for a little longer.

Héloise however had other ideas and kept the machine going at full stretch all the time, and I did have a few wobbles here and there. But if it means that I can finish early on Saturday, then I don’t mind. However it is disappointing to see the weight going back on.

After backing up the travelling laptop with the more recent files, I read through my Welsh for next week and, surprisingly, I went right through the unit from front to back without stopping.

The rest of the time was spent browsing through the IKEA catalogue to look for kitchen ideas for when I finally move, if I ever do. Only two months to go now.

Héloise unplugged me from the machine and once she’d compressed the vein I weighed myself and found that I was indeed under the target weight. A very chatty taxi driver brought me home where my cleaner was waiting for me, and I staggered upstairs. It had taken a lot out of me.

Tea tonight was a delicious spicy stir-fry, primarily to use up some of this cabbage and a tin of bean sprouts. And it would have been even nicer had I remembered to put the bean sprouts into it. I really don’t know what’s happening to me these days.

But now I’m off to bed. I’m Woodstocking tomorrow if all goes well, and we’ll see how far I can travel with it. All the music is chosen and some of the notes are written. But it’s not going to be easy, this series of programmes.

But seeing as we have just been talking about Old People’s Homes … "well, one of us has" – ed … the Queen Mother once visited one in Crewe a few years ago.
While she was there one of the old women who was suffering from Alzheimer’s Disease let out a string of verbal curses, oaths and foul language
"Really!" exclaimed the Queen Mother. "You have no respect for me at all. Do you know who I am?"
"No, dear" replied the woman. "But ask the matron. She’ll tell you"

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Thursday 28th November 2024 – I AM GOING …

… to shut up about this blasted dialysis. Once more I’ve had a pretty miserable and painful experience. I’m convinced that it’s the implant in my arm that’s not working properly. I don’t see what else it might be.

Mind you, regular readers of this rubbish will recall that a few weeks ago they gave it a scan and they told me that it was working fine just then. It can’t have given up the ghost since then, not so dramatically.

It’s enough to put me off my sleep. It’s bad enough for me to have to go through all of this with all these pipes and tubes, and that’s without any pain as well.

It put me somewhat off my sleep last night. It was once more quite late when I went off to bed. It was after midnight and I was still letting it all hang out.

But once I was in bed I didn’t feel a thing. It was totally painless, all the way through to the alarm going off. I didn’t feel a thing or move a muscle.

When the alarm went off I fell out of bed and went off to the bathroom for a good wash to try to liven myself up. But that’s an impossible task these days.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. And to my surprise the dictaphone was empty. There was nothing on it all all.

The surprising part about that is that I have two very clear and distinct memories from the night going round in my head. The first was that I had a new medication to take, but it wasn’t to start for a couple of days so I had to hide it under the bed until the appropriate time in case anyone else found it. This was a dream so vivid that I almost went to look under the bed when I awoke this morning.

The second was that I was in Crewe Town Centre on the corner of Queensway and Victoria Street talking to someone and it suddenly occurred to me that they had rebuilt the area that they demolished last year, but it didn’t look all that different. So I wondered why they had gone to all that expense to do so. A few of the buildings were finished in different materials to the others, but the biggest difference was that the building right on the corner only had one glass window, that facing into Queensway and the wall in Victoria Street was blank. In our opinion that immediately ruled out any big retailer from taking up the lease. One of the shops opposite had been converted and fitted out as a hot pie shop, bakery and café but it was so narrow and the display window so small, but going deep inside the building, was so impractical as to be useless and we thought that it would never be let to a serious retailer. All in all, our opinion of the rebuilding of the Town Centre was that it was a dismal failure and a total waste of money.

And this dream was so vivid that I had to look at an on-line mapping service to make sure that Crewe Town Centre was still looking like Fallujah after an American offensive.

When the nurse came round we had a chat about chiropodists. Of course, as usual he would always have chosen “the other one” so it’s not really worth asking him things like this.

After he left I made breakfast and read more of ISAAC WELD’S BOOK. He’s calmed down a lot today. In fact, he’s gone sightseeing.

There is a rock bridge in the USA that is effectively the remains of a roof of a collapsed cavern but back in 1790 it was quite something. Our hero is so enthralled by it that he’s forgotten to have his usual moan about taverns and innkeepers.

Later on, back in here I had a few things to do and was so engrossed that I was taken unawares by the arrival of my cleaner. It was time for her to apply my patches.

Once it was done I had to wait for the taxi. It already had another passenger in it so the three of us (driver and two passengers) had quite a chatty drive all the way down to Avranches.

There was something of a wait while the nurse on duty coupled everyone up. There was another nurse with her – a trainee in that department – so it took ages because every single step of the procedure had to be done exactly by the book

Nevertheless there didn’t seem to be a procedure to cover what to do about my reaction when she stuck the needle in my arm.

This afternoon I revised my Welsh and then read some more of Hakluyt’s PRINCIPALL NAVIGATIONS.

And while Isaac Weld might have calmed down, Hakluyt certainly hadn’t. He’d heard a story about a trip that "set forth out of the Thames the 20 day of May in the 19 yeere of his raigne, which was the yere of our Lord. 1527" and went to North America where “white bears” were found (so God alone knows exactly where the people went) and which descended into cannibalism.

However, to his lasting dismay and regret (and mine too) "And thus much (by reason of the great negligence of the writers of those times, who should have used more care in preserving of the memories of the worthy actes of our nation,) is all that hitherto I can learne, or finde out of this voyage"

Another thing that I discovered is that I can access my LeClerc account and so I spent some time going over my order again. I’ll give it another run-through tomorrow morning before I send it off.

Unplugging me was almost as painful as unplugging me. It was Julie the Cook’s turn to sit by me and compress my arm afterwards.

She’s booking a flight to San Francisco to go to see her brother who lives there, so I told her that if there was any room in her suitcase to fit me in. She wanted to know if we should take the dialysis machine too.

The taxi was waiting for me and we had what I thought was a rather nervous drive back to Granville.

My cleaner was waiting and watched in amazement as I strode manfully … "PERSONfully" – ed … up all the steps into my apartment.

Tea tonight was a stir-fry of rice, veg and some beansprouts. That was nice with my chocolate cake and lemon soya for dessert.

So right now I’m off to bed but not before I describe another encounter that Isaac Weld had with a local.
He arrived at a river and the only way to cross was to swim so he asked a local in a boat "are there any alligators in this river?"
"None at all" replied the local, so Weld dives in and swims for the opposite shore.
Half-way across the river he swims alongside the boat and asks the local "How come there are no alligators in this river?"
"There used to be" said the local "but the sharks took care of them all."

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Thursday 24th October 2024 – THEY BROUGHT ME …

… home in an ambulance this evening.

Don’t ask me why, because I didn’t ask for it and I certainly didn’t want it. But nevertheless, there I was, strapped into a stretcher in the back.

My faithful cleaner thinks that it’s because none of the female drivers wants to bring me home on her own but I dunno. I’ve clearly upset someone somewhere if the only way that they are going to transport me is strapped down in the back of an ambulance

Actually, last night I might have been strapped down in bed because I certainly didn’t move at all, at least, not that I remember.

To cap it all, I was even in bed before 23:00. Not by very much, it has to be said, but enough to make it worth recording all the same. For some reason or other it didn’t take as long as it usually does to finish everything off. And there I was, tucked up nicely in bed.

Once I was in bed I didn’t need much rocking either. I was out like a light quite quickly and there I stayed until 07:00 when the alarm went off, and when was the last time that that happened?

When the alarm went off I had some kind of nurse living with me who was trying to organise me about going out because Tuesday afternoon I had to go to the bank and Wednesday afternoon I had to go somewhere. That involved a lot of organisation with the buses, all of that kind of thing. She was busy trying to make all of the necessary arrangements for me to go to do these tasks on the bus without having to use an ambulance or a taxi.

The only person who might do that would be Percy Penguin. She’s quite used to dealing with the elderly, the infirm and those people who might not have both paddles in the water but I think that even she would draw the line at sorting me out.

So at the sound of the alarm I hauled myself out of bed and made my way into the bathroom for a good scrub up and to prepare myself in case Emilie the Cute Consultant is there at the Dialysis Centre this afternoon.

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. We were going on a coach trip somewhere. There was a big group of us on board this coach. I was on my own so I sat in a seat and everyone left me alone which was very nice. The coach stopped for a toilet break halfway along the route so I set up a coffee machine. With the cups that I had I started a little coffee production line. A girl came to help me and the two of us managed to keep it going with coffee. The driver said that he and the other two members of his staff had their own cups but I had to use the cups that I could find, which were not very good. Nevertheless, people drank it. There was one moment when I had to go to make some more coffee and I had to go to the end of the line where the machine was. I didn’t have the coffee so I shouted to the girl to bring the coffee back down quick but then found that I actually had the coffee in my hand. There was that particular moment but that’s all that I remember about this dream

Wouldn’t it be nice to find out how to keep 53 people happy with one coffee machine. I suppose that it’s the 21st Century equivalent of “five loaves, two fishes and a pot of tea for five thousand, please”.

There was an earlier dream about someone in the theatrical business who had a small, domineering personality. He had a lot of affairs with different women. He was at one time with a Japanese or Korean girl who was a member of a dancing troupe but he abandoned her for another woman. The newspapers said something like “he’ll certainly notice the difference with this large, overbearing Spanish woman compared to the girl he had previously who had barely entered puberty” that sort of thing but I can’t remember very much about that dream either except nothing really.

That was rather a strange thing to dream, and I can’t think of where it might have any relevance in anything particular.

In that last dream I did absolutely everything towards this play, writing and directing etc. The only thing was when it came to the orchestra, conducting the orchestra I had to step aside and let someone else do that because of some kind of agreement with the particular Trade Union that covers the engagement of musicians in their practical sphere.

And the same with this. A few more things to add to my nocturnal talents. If only I had someone who could organise and motivate me to do these things for real.

Hurricane Isabelle blew in a little later. She didn’t have time to give me my ‘flu jab. It’s booked in for Saturday when she has no blood tests to do. It’s no surprise really that she’s snowed under with requests for blood tests right now. She has “the touch” whereas her oppo doesn’t and people are beginning to realise it.

After she left I made breakfast and read my book. Our Naturalists are busy roaming about the estate of the President examining his trees, of which there are many historic ones.

But it’s a shame what subsequently happened to his estate. His family fell on hard times and it was sold, eventually becoming a hospital. It was used for severe cases during World War II and then abandoned, the house being blown up by the Royal Engineers in a training exercise in 1959

Back in here I spent the morning tracking down the dates of more concerts and, as usual, SETLIST.FM came up trumps yet again and helped me identify a dozen or so

My cleaner turned up at lunchtime and helped me fix the patches on my arm, and then the taxi came early for me. It’s a good job that I was ready.

We drove all the way to Avranches and at the roundabout the driver turned right towards the town rather than to the left to the hospital.

He quickly realised his error and performed a U-turn and a voice in the back said "did you forget something?". We’d gone all that way with a passenger in the back and I had never noticed at all.

With being early this afternoon I was first in at the clinic, thus first to be dealt with, which made a nice change.

A doctor came to see me, but only for two minutes and she didn’t seem to be too interested. And apart from the coffee, that was that. I read my Welsh notes, listened to music and finished off by carrying on with my “Curious Church Customs”.

They unplugged me quite early and I was free to go. That was when we had the pantomime about me trying unsuccessfully to climb into the ambulance.

After several attempts they gave up and brought out the stretcher.

We drove back in perfect silence to here where my faithful cleaner was waiting, and she watched as I made it up all thirteen of the first flight of stairs. That was really impressive, considering how much difficulty I had had with the ambulance.

Tea tonight was different. There had been a can of beansprouts festering on the shelves since it was triumphantly carried off the Ark by Noah, and so I made myself a spicy stir-fry. In fact, everything will be spicy now that I have a jar of chilis.

It was hot, and delicious, especially followed by apple cake and caramel-flavoured soya cream.

So now I’m off to bed for a nice early night, as it looks as if I’m going to have a visit tomorrow.

But while we’re on the subject of Noah … "well, one of us is" – ed … it reminds me of the teacher in Primary School discussing certain Biblical events with the children.
She asked them "do you know who Noah’s wife was?" and one boy at the back of class raised his hand
"Please, Miss" said the boy "I do!"
"So who was it, little Johnny?" she asked
And the boy replied "please Miss, wasn’t it Joan of Arc?"

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Wednesday 27th December 2023 – I’VE HAD YET …

… another day during which nothing seems to have gone right at all.

And we started as we meant to go on because When I eventually went to bed last night I couldn’t go to sleep and spent a very uncomfortable night watching the clock go round.

When I finally did go off to sleep, for some unaccountable reason that only my phone will know, it began to sound the alarm at every time that I have ever set an alarm call since I bought this phone in 2017.

So at 05:23, off it went ad infinitum until I realised what was going on, and switched everything off.

And then I must have gone to bed and left the fridge door open because there was ice everywhere all over the fridge and a large pool of water on the floor. So the morning’s task was to defrost the fridge and give it a good clean.

There was some medication in there that had to be kept cold but luckily I have an emergency system for that – a couple of thermal pouches and some small ice packs that live in the freezer.

The nurse came by this morning to give me my injection and to have a moan about having to take a blood sample. It’s true that it isn’t at all easy because I have small veins that move about, but I don’t like the idea any more than he does.

It’s actually rare that someone can take a blood sample from me first go. There was that famous time at Castle Anthrax several years ago when a more senior nurse managed it quickly and painlessly.
"What’s your secret?" I asked her out of curiosity
"In 1982 and 1984 I was Belgian ladies’ darts champion" she replied.

But the results are back already. The shots of last resort stuff seem to have done the trick and my blood count has risen to 9.4. Still a long way short of where it ought to be of course, a healthy person having between 13.5 and 15.0, but a lot higher than 7.3 which is below the critical limit.

But it’s done it at a hell of a price. Your blood viscosity should be between 40 and 50 units. Mine is 29.5

That means that my blood is as thin as water. If I cut myself, it comes streaming out and won’t clot.

And that’s embarrassing because the side effect of one of these medicines that I take is that it “irritates”. So if I remember, I have to smear it with cold cream. If I forget, I scratch it and it bleeds. And if it’s on my right leg where I have no feeling, it bleeds like a tap because I don’t notice and keep on scratching.

If things go on like this I’m going to start to have to wear clothes in bed because my sheets in the morning will look like a charnel house.

But as for the medication, I’m now up to 15 tablets per day and that’s a record. And some of them are monsters. Judging by the size and shape of a couple of them, I’m not even sure that I’m supposed to be taking them by the mouth.

By the looks of things, there are about three or four that I’m supposed to be taking for the illness that I have and the rest are to counter the side-effects of that three or four.

There was some stuff on the dictaphone from the night. Not much because it was a short night. I was driving something like an old 1924 Syracuse heading through the wilds of rural France when I came across something strange happening with a big Daimler driven by someone so I followed it for a while, keeping my distance. When it began to loiter around a set of crossroads I crossed over and went into a bar there, which was completely and utterly deserted, pretending to go to the bathroom. I had a quick look out of the window. Just then another car pulled up, a bottle-green Rolls Royce. I knew someone who owned a car like that and he wasn’t a very pleasant person so I flushed the bathroom and came out. I was sure that the Daimler had parked where I’d parked mine and I almost got into it. He had a couple of young girls and he was putting their coats on them etc. I apologised for getting into his car and got into mine. I thought to myself “maybe I ought to be thinking about an evening meal but in actual fact I’m not hungry. I’ll just drive until I find a suitable place where I can stop and lay my head down for the night.

When the alarm went off at 05:23 by mistake I was busy trying to add someone’s name to a database on the computer. I’d received some forms from someone and filled them in on-line and sent off but for some reason the image of the form had burnt onto the screen. Even with the computer switched off you could still see the burnt-on image. I was in a really bad mood about this. There were several blacklists around the internet so I tried to add this guy onto one but no matter how I tried, it kept on throwing me out. I was becoming really frustrated at this.

The taxi came in plenty of time and I headed off to the Centre de Re-education. Ophelie the ergotherapist and I had a good chat about things. She thinks that I ought to have more help at the apartment and while I’m not disagreeing with her, I can’t see how.

She thinks that I ought to be delegating more tasks but I told her that I didn’t know how I could, on any kind of regular basis.

"You need to make a list" she said. "For example, how often do you wash your clothes?"
"Whenever the basket is full"
"And when do you take down your clothes from the clothes airer?"
"When they are dry"
"Yes, I see the issue"

On many occasions I’ve been told that I “ought to be saving your strength for the battle that lies ahead” but as I said yesterday, I’m not the type of person who could sit back and wait for the inevitable to catch up with him. I’d much rather go out and meet it head-on.

Back here I had a few more spoonsful of Christmas cake and a mug of hot chocolate, and then took it easy until tea time – a stir- fry of rice, veg and some of those Chinese things, all sautéed in vegan butter and soy sauce. I’ll have to work out how to make these Chinese things when my supply runs out

Now that the meds are sorted, I’m off to bed. Tomorrow the new medication will begin and I’m not looking forward to it. A sudden jump from 10 tablets to 15 is nothing but bad news and tells me everything that I didn’t want to know about this illness.

Where will I be tomorrow after all of that?

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Friday 6th October 2017 – I WAS NOT …

… alone last night!

There I was, all curled up under the covers last night, and I felt a weight settle down on my feet. Yes, Cujo the Killer Cat needed some reassurance and company.

It’s a long time since I’ve had a good cuddle with a cat in bed, and she didn’t stay too long either, but it was still nice. It hasn’t happened for a long time.

And despite having a disturbed night’s sleep, I was off on a mega-ramble that took me miles, and the sad thing was that as soon as I awoke – “PAFF!” – Gone With The Wind.

But there was a reason for that, I reckon. It was a noise upstairs that awoke me. And when I glanced at the time it was 07:15! The battery had gone flat in the ‘phone (I hadn’t noticed) so the alarm hadn’t gone off.

and so today, I’ve done … errrr … just like my namesake the Mathematician, three-fifths of five eighths of … errr … nothing.

And quite right too. In fact, it wasn’t until about 22:00 this evening that I actually set foot outside.

But the rest has done me good and I’m feeling a little better, which is just as well because there is work to do tomorrow.

Tea was a stir-fry in tomato sauce wit one of the vegan burgers that I bought the other day. And not only was it excellent, there’s enough left over for tomorrow too.

So now it’s bed-time. An early night ready for some work tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll have company tonight but if not I’ll have a really good sleep. I deserve it.

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Tuesday 26th April 2016 – I DIDN’T HAVE …

… such a good night last night as I did the previous night. Mind you, having said that, compared to some that I’ve had in the recent past, it was a dramatic improvement and two or three weeks ago, I would have been quite happy with a night like last night.

I didn’t go to bed too early, and didn’t watch a film. I was asleep quite quickly but spent some of the night tossing and turning around trying to find a comfortable position. I had a stroll down the corridor at some time during the night but it didn’t inconvenience me too much and I was wide awake by 07:30.

After breakfast (and two cups of really nice coffee again) I came back here but was unceremoniously thrown out of my room for 15 minutes by the cleaner who wanted to give my room a good going-over. I went to the office and gave my notice in for Friday morning when I’m heading back to the hospital for the next session of chemo.

And I’m not looking forward to that in the slightest. That’s because I’m feeling quite well at the moment and the chemo sessions will knock me back again. But as I said the other day, I’ll just have to get used to it.

I bought a token for the washing machine too and did all of the washing that’s been building up. Hopefully it’ll all be dry by Friday morning so I’ll have clean clothes to go into hospital with.

Down to the shops for lunchtime and I did remember the spicy sliced cake. They didn’t have any of the soya vanilla custard substitute but instead I bought a pack of four of these vanilla-flavoured soya desserts. For pudding tonight, I had four slices of the cake and tipped one of these pots of vanilla over the top – and it was delicious. I’ll eat that again. It went down nicely after my stir-fry vegetables and rice. A meal fit for a King, and you can tell that I’m feeling much better with my appetite being back, and in spades too!

As for the house-hunting, nothing happened today. That’s because I’ve been summoned to see the Social Services people tomorrow. After everything that I said yesterday, it seems that they have a couple of possibilities for me and we have to discuss them.

So things might be starting to happen in that direction. Watch this space.

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Tuesday 19th April 2016 – LAST NIGHT …

… as predicted, I settled down to watch one of my Inspector Hornleigh films. And, as anyone who has been a regular reader of this rubbish for any length of time would have predicted, I fell asleep before the end. The film was still running and it was a scream from one of the performers that awoke me, right near the end. I was in half a mind to go back to where I fell asleep and watch the film from that point but instead, I turned off the laptop and went back to sleep. That seemed to be a much better idea.

It seems that last night’s subject was cats – or, at least, it was during the early part of the night. I was back at Vine Tree Avenue again and everyone had come round to see me – all kinds of the usual suspects whom you have seen making appearances in these nocturnal rambles – and everyone brought a cat with them. All of the cats were put in the hall while we had a little “do” and then when the evening was over, I opened the door between the kitchen and the hall and all of the cats came in. All kinds of cats there were, all different colours, and to my surprise we hadn’t had a single moment of squabbling like you get when you usually put a bunch of cats (or children) together.
Talking of children, I was in Neston a little later with the daughter of a friend, and we were looking for my cats (whatever they might be doing in Neston I really have no idea). We managed to find three of them but Tuppence was being stubborn (like she sometimes was) and this young girl made some kind of comment about her.
I don’t know what it was that woke me so dramatically at 04:30 but I was soon back to sleep, and I’d moved back to Crewe by now. Up near the Liberal Club in fact. And I was parading with the Home Guard, Captain Mainwaring’s platoon in fact, and the issue of the gun cropped up. For those of you who don’t know the film, there’s a scene in there where an elderly man turns up on parade with a shotgun, the only weapon the troop has, and Mainwaring insists that he should have it. I’ve always thought that that was rather a silly decision, not the least reason being that because he would have been the only person with a gun, he would have been the only person firing at the Germans, so they would naturally fire back at him and that would remove the head of command from the Home Guard troops (with Mainwaring, that wouldn’t have been much of a loss, but there you go). Anyway, last night, there I was, and there the subject cropped up again. I suggested making the owner of the gun a Lance-Corporal, giving him two privates to assist him (all of which would have enhanced his ego and brought him on board) and thus forming a ready-made light artillery section whenever more substantial weapons appeared on the scene. I’d seen some builders and they had a stack of about two dozen trenching shovels – very thin-bladed shovels on long pole handles – and I’d fancied liberating one of those for use on the farm. But here I was on parade with a three-metre pole with a spoon on the end (with no idea what I would do with this). I was sent off to patrol around the corner of Richard Moon Street (which bore no resemblance whatever to the real Richard Moon Street) and down there was an ancient garage that I had never seen before. It had a bodyshell of an old Lotus Elan and the bodyshell of an old 105E Ford Anglia, both white, both covered with dust and green mould from standing for so long and both on sale at £100. Behind them was what remained of an old Mark II Ford Zodiac, yellow, and which was also for sale. But this place was a treasure trove. There were the remains of a 1920s hand-cranked petrol pump and all kinds of things like that, all overgrown and abandoned and I would have loved to have spent a day or two going through everything that was here.

But then the shower down the corridor woke me up again. 06:35 this time, so it looks as if these early-risers are in for the duration. So much so that when I went down the corridor for breakfast, there were just two of us there. Judging by the amount of bread left in the bread container, everyone else had been and gone already.

Back in my room, I had a nice relaxing morning not doing all that much but as the time drew on, I went and had a good shower and changed my clothes. I need to look my best (and smell my best too) for the Social Services department.

I went off on foot to the fritkot as I fancied chips for lunch. When I arrived, they were just closing even though it was still 5 minutes to 2. But I persuaded them to make me a portion, which they did, and then, seeing as it was a nice day, I took my courage in both hands and set off to walk to the hospital.

And I made it too, despite it being uphill all the way, and I was early too. That gave me enough time to have a drink, which I reckoned that I deserved too.

But the Social Services weren’t really all that helpful, in the sense that they haven’t really come up with something definite as yet. They’ll be “in touch” but they could be in touch anyway without me having to go all that way there. There is however some talk about a place in a … would you believe … monastery, just as I predicted. I hope that they have a good laundry where I can get rid of some of my dirty habits, but they need to improve the monotonous food. Regular readers of this rubbish know that there are only two brothers who work in the kitchen of a monastery – the chip monk and the fish friar.

Once I’d organised that, I went off to the Day Hospital to find out when my next appointment is – and it’s on Thursday – this Thursday – at 10:30. It’s a good job that I went to enquire.

Caliburn was next, and I moved him around the car park and rescued the shampoo and the toothpaste. I’ll have more stuff here than I will at home at this rate. And then, seeing as the afternoon was even nicer, I walked back here, all the way. And I know that I have done it too, but then this time last week I had difficulty walking to the bathroom so it’s a major step forward and I can be quite pleased with myself. It’s not quite a 10-mile hike around Montreal but I’m getting there.

Tonight for tea, I had a vegetable stir-fry with rice. A huge helping for just €5:00. And now I’m ready for bed.

But I did watch an interesting film that I found on the laptop. It’s a story about logging in Russia and they had all of the lorries doing things like driving along rivers with huge bow waves swamping the bonnets, and with the cabs almost totally under water. It’s frightening stuff and puts into perspective how easy the road is around Labrador, especially now that they are improving it.

So I have a day off tomorrow. I’ll be taking it easy I reckon because that walk is making me ache all over. Still, I’m proud of what I managed to do today.

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Thursday 14th April 2016 – TODAY’S THE DAY …

… when I find out if the first lot of chemotherapy worked or not. I hope that it did, because I don’t want to go through too much more of it. Horrible, nasty stuff!

And so I celebrated by finding the toaster (in the cupboard under the sink), and had toast for breakfast. and a second mug of coffee too, seeing as how it was so nice. I dunno who makes the coffee at this place but they can come and make it for me any time they like.

I needed it too because I’d been well away on my travels during the night. It was something of a disturbed night, tossing and turning and waking up, and so much of what happened and where I went to has long since disappeared into the mists, but what I remember of it was all pretty exciting enough.

I started out with Nerina yet again and we were on our travels in Europe. There was a magnificent site that, to me, could only be an Iron-Age hill-fort but no-one else seemed to agree with me, and some of it had been demolished. I took Nerina to see it and gave her something of a lecture about it, explaining that it was maybe dating from the Visigoth or more likely, perhaps the Merovingian era (although neither lived in hill-forts, but we mustn’t go letting facts get in the way of a good nocturnal ramble now, must we), and that regardless of any rumour or speculation (because the Merovingians have always throughout history been treated as something quite different, even by the Church, and some have even speculated that they might have been spacemen) were just another unknown wandering Eastern tribe that finally collided with Western “civilisation” during the great Western migrations. And I pointed out loads of things that related to the hill-fort that had caught my eye. I didn’t realise it at the time that my “lecture” had drawn quite a crowd and a family came over to me afterwards and asked me to give them a guided tour. I explained that I knew nothing and was merely interpreting, as an amateur, what I was seeing, but they were most insistent.
A little later, I was in Crewe, right down the end of West Street by where Barlow Brothers scrapyard used to be, and I had a pick-up that was towing a trailer. I was out of the vehicle doing something on the verge when a huge lorry went past and the draught sucked my pick-up off down the road. I was sure that I’d applied the handbrake and left the pick-up in gear, but there it was – going off down the road. I ran after it but it was long-gone, and suddenly it burst into flames, going faster and faster down the street. A horse of mine (now, what would I be doing with a horse?) leapt off the trailer and ran back towards me. It was on fire, and quite badly too by the looks of things, but a passer-by threw some water on it and doused the flames. I had a look at the horse and although the hair was charred, the skin looked okay and so I debated as to whether I should call a vet as I put it back in my back garden. But my pick-up was long-gone by now.
And even later, I was driving along a dual-carriageway, “my” side of which was under heavy repair and the road was limited to one lane and was in dreadful condition, so most vehicles were driving the wrong way along the outer lane of the other carriageway. I attempted to do the same but was cut up by a big van so had to continue trudging along, and at the next break in the central reservation, the same big van cut me up yet again. I ended up at my doctor’s, on the second floor of a tall terraced house, right by the side of this dual-carriageway and by now the road had deteriorated into one massive construction site and vehicles were picking their way through it as best as they could. Some young boy in a souped-up American sports saloon of the 1970s was driving like a maniac and as we watched, he clipped a small car coming the other way and turned it over, and spun into a pick-up and totally flattened it. He, of course, escaped unhurt. The small car that was on its side, the construction workers used one of their machines to try to turn it right-side up but they dropped it into a water tank and had to fish it out with a fork-lift truck. After all of this, a small woman with a shaven head emerged from the car. All of her worldly belongings were in the car, ruined by now, and she was destitute. She looked quite shaken and so I beckoned her up to the doctor’s. When she arrived, I explained that the doctor was busy but we would let her go in next for a check-up. She was clearly upset, and was going on about her car and her goods and however was she going to find a mortgage to replace everything?

Having resolved the issue of breakfast, off I toddled to the hospital. My appointment was at 10:50, and do you know what time I was seen? Anyone from the UK would never ever guess correctly – they would be at least a day or two out – but I was seen at 10:50 precisely – bang on time.

They took a blood test from me and fitted a drain in me, and then I was told to wait in the waiting room. And wait I did – for all of about half an hour when I was summoned to see the doctor – a nice young female trainee who can soothe my fevered brow any time she likes. I told her everything – about my arm, about the compression in my chest, about the loss of appetite, the fatigue, the nausea – absolutely everything, and she poked and prodded me just about everywhere – right at the end she asked me “may I feel your groin?”. Well, who am I to argue with that?.

She then went off to consult her professor, and came back 10 minutes later. “We need an ecography of your stomach”.
“When is this likely to take place?”
“14:15” she replied. You can see that we are clearly not in the UK. That was only 90 minutes, not 90 days away.

So I had my ecography and then went back to hear the news.

And I suppose that you are all dying to hear what is going on, aren’t you? Well, I’ll tell you, but it doesn’t make pleasant reading – not for me and probably not for many others either. But here we go.

Basically, the embolism is back in the right arm. It seems that the veins in there are not good enough to support a drain. This means that everything will have to happen in the left arm, and the veins aren’t all that much better in that arm either and they are worried. In view of everything else that is likely to happen to me, more of which anon, they propose to fit a catheter port in my chest. This news (the catheter in the chest, not the embolism) has filled me with complete dismay.

Secondly, they have detected some gallstones. These are by no means a problem but they are blocking a good view of my intestines. They are talking about sending a camera down, but this, I assure you, they will do over my dead body. I’ll suffer like this before I suffer like that.

Thirdly, the chemo hasn’t worked as well as has been expected and so I have to have another transfusion. I had one pochette on the spot then and there, as well as an injection to stimulate the red blood cells.

Fourthly, I have to go back for more chemotherapy, and that’s fixed for 29th April. This is after the end of the 15-day period during which I’m allowed to stay here, so something needs to be done. Those of you with long memories may recall that I was given “advice” by that guy in the European Union’s Social Services department, but the net result of that as been zero. He hasn’t even bothered to reply to my e-mail, never mind do anything about the issues involved. What a waste of time that was!

However, the girl from the Social Services at the hospital seems much more helpful – she sought me out today at the hospital and we had a little chat, and she thinks that once she knows what the programme is, she might be able to help me find somewhere to stay in the neighbourhood. That’s the ideal solution – she seemed to know what she was doing while all of this was going on.

So beaten, battered and bewildered, I left the hospital and went to move Caliburn around the car park and to rescue the clean clothes that I forgot the other day. And then, I took the bus back here.

I did have a pleasant surprise tonight though. I’m limited with what I can eat right now as my taste buds are out of order and I still have some nausea. I seem to be limited to pizza and to the cheapo pasta shop up the road and round the corner. But tonight, looking for a change of diet, I found an Asian take-away. They did a huge portion of vegetable stir-fry and rice for just €5:00.

I’m not a big fan of food from the Chinese end of Asia, but I did cheer up when he started chopping up half a broccoli. And I do have to say that this was one of the nicest commercial stir-fry meals that I have ever eaten (I stress the “commercial” because nothing whatever can match Liz’s stir-fry). I shall add this place to my list.

So tomorrow I need to start work. I need to sort out this accommodation question because I reckon that I’m going to be here for the duration, so I may as well come to terms with it.

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Saturday 9th January 2016 – WE HAD SOMETHING …

… of a minor crisis here today – like waking up and finding a puddle on the floor of the kitchen. First job therefore was to dismantle … "disPERSONtle" – ed … the kitchen unit where the sink was. Sure enough, one of the water pipes was soaking wet.

This meant turning off the water and checking all of the joints. One or two rubber washers inside were rather perished so Terry replaced them all, and then switched the water back on. And sure enough, five minutes later, more water!

After lunch, further inspection revealed that one of the braided tap-hoses seemed to be distorted. It’s not that it ever is so cold in the kitchen that the water would freeze and burst the hose but it didn’t look right at all, and after an exhaustive search, Terry couldn’t find a spare one. So off to Montlucon and Brico Depot (a round trip of 110 kms).

He was back after 40 minutes. Passing by St Eloy, he noticed that the plumber’s was open. It costs twice as much in there as it would in Brico Depot, but it saves on time and on fuel. So crawling back underneath the cupboard, he wielded his spanner and … CRACKKKKK … the bottom of the tap broke off. There was a hairline fracture in it and it was this that was causing all of the problems right from the beginning.

So it was off to Brico Depot anyway, and all that I can say was that it was a good job that Terry didn’t go there before to fetch the hose. That would have been the end.

So now we have a nice new tap which works perfectly.It’s the same design as the ones that I bought for my shower and my sink in the shower room back home, and probably the one that I will buy for my kitchen, whenever that might be ready to need one.

But we needed one to do all of the washing-up after Liz’s glorious meal last night. A basil-flavoured tofu stir-fry with noodles and it was gorgeous too. And I had ice-cream for pudding – after all, I can’t have any more until that is finished.

Talking of finished, I certainly was! When the alarm went off, I switched it off and went back to sleep. It was only a car pulling up outside that woke me bolt-upright. The neighbour’s car, not the nurse’s as it happened, but I didn’t know that at the time and shot down the stairs, missing my footing and falling most of the way to the bottom. And after the nurse went, I crashed out again on the sofa until Liz and Terry came down.

There is a reason for this however, and that is that once again, I’d been off on a couple of mega-rambles. And these were so enthralling that I woke up twice during the night and dictated them immediately into my little machine. And it was only on typing them out that I noticed the first couple of them – I had no recollection of it at all and it does make me wonder what else that I’ve missed.

The first part of all of this concerned a young boy – aged about 11 but looking about 7 or 8. We were back in mid-Victorian times and in a court room. He was charged with stealing a barrel of beer that he and a friend had sat down and drank. While the hearing was taking place, he was in the dock being violently ill everywhere, crawling on his hands and knees on the floor. In the end, the bailiff of the court, someone like John Wayne, sitting on a chair, took this boy onto his lap but the boy carried on being violently ill. In the end, the judge said something like “this is totally insupportable. We can’t possibly continue with the case like this!” This was quite true as it was clear that the boy wasn’t capable of understanding anything whatever of the procedure in his current state.

I then had something going on, involving me and someone else being chased by a dragon. This was something to do with where I was working and although I recall nothing of this and it was a surprise when it appeared on the dictaphone, I did hear myself say, when it had us trapped in a corner, that I wish that this dragon would clear off and let us get on with some real work.

From there, I went on to dealing with some issues of Marianne, who had miraculously come back to life. Nerina and I were looking after her (in the same way that Cecile and I did) and she was living in a duplex apartment, part of which were premises where I was working, on the floor below. I was down there trying to work and trying to do loads of other things too. but to cut a long story short … "hooray" – ed … Marianne passed on once more, and her body was still in the apartment – it not being possible to find someone who could come and take her away. It was Monday and no-one could come before Thursday. Nerina came back from where she had been and we had a chat, and I wasn’t sure whether I should allow her to share my bed or even stay the night, with all of this confusion going on right now. It was quite late by now and I was ready for bed at this moment, in my jammies and dressing gown. We were having a little cosy chat around the table in my room and suddenly, the door burst open and my boss from a job years ago, an absolute swine, stuck his head around the door, and cleared off again. And Nerina had to clear off as well. I escorted her to her car. Now earlier on in the day, I’d been having trouble with a TV camera – it would show TV programmes if you pressed the correct sequence of buttons but this was such a complicated sequence that I had managed to do it once but never again. ever since, every time that I pressed a button it made the boom arm collapse onto my head or something like that; So after Nerina left, I was out on this car park having yet another play with this camera. And then HE appeared again, brandishing a pink brochure of some kind. “Mr Hall, how DARE you tell the tea-lady that I was going to be here for the St Something-or-other (which implied that he was going to be at a dance that was taking place on that day)?” but my response was that I had said nothing of the kind. “I said that you were going to be here ON that day – a completely different thing altogether!”. He burst out laughing (for a reason only known to him) and said that he would see me about it in the morning. “Be afraid – be very afraid!”. Naturally, I thought that this was totally ridiculous.
We’re a long way from finishing yet. After a trip down the corridor at about 03:40 (having a timer on my dictaphone comes in quite useful) I was back in the arms of Morpheus and this was yet another really bizarre voyage. I could only recall some of it and I wish that I could remember all of the rest. For a start, I wish that I could remember who I was with. It was another young girl, bearing more than a passing resemblance to the much-maligned Percy Penguin (who doesn’t appear in these pages anything like as often as she deserves) but it wasn’t her, however it’s someone else that I’m sure that I know too. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, we were in New York and after a major ramble (I couldn’t remember a thing about this ramble when I awoke) but we found ourselves at the tip of Manhattan, in Battery Park (although it’s nothing at all like the real Battery Park) and the park was quite high up, but surrounded by tall buildings, which meant that there was no view of East River, except in one particular place where the building was quite low. We were waiting for a certain ship that was going to dock at a certain quay – Quay 34 if my memory serves me well (as Julie Driscoll once said). This ship displaced 26,000 and a few tonnes which was quite small (such is the logic of these night-time rambles). We had no idea where Quay 34 was but in another astounding fit of nocturnal logic, a small ship would go into a small quay and that would be where this small building would be. Seeing it is one thing – being able to arrive at it was quite another, so we set off in the direction that we thought would bring us there. The idea was to walk all around the edge of Manhattan and hopefully we should arrive at it. A short while into our walk we came to the Deutschlander Tör – the gate that leads into a small Park in Manhattan that had been given in perpetuity to Germany by the USA Government for some act or other – it was not part of the USA but part of Germany. The gates were wrought iron, black and gold, about 4 metres tall and with impressive emblems. Crowds of people were milling around, photographing them, and just as I went to take a photo, a woman directly opposite me went to photograph them from the opposite direction. We would each have included the other in our photos. So we had a smile and a laugh, and I called out “one, two, three” and we took our photos simultaneously. Once we had sorted ourselves out, the girl and I continued our walk into the park. Here, we met up with a coach party, ours of which we were part, in fact, that we had somehow managed to miss during our ramble around the city. They were preparing to leave, but we weren’t. And in any case we weren’t going back with them an the day that they were flying back but staying on and going to Canada. I was looking for the toilet because both of us needed to go. A park guard pointed us in the right direction, indicating a girl in the distance with an orange “Home Depot” plastic bag. The entrance was right by there and he would walk up with us. One of the women from the party offered to come with us as well, and while we were chatting to the guard, this woman was talking over the top of our conversation, saying how inconsiderate some people were, talking loudly while others were trying to have a conversation, the irony of what she was doing having gone completely over her head. And everyone on this coach was urging us to come back as the coach was leaving at 19:30 as they were flying out at 21:00, despite my explanation that we weren’t coming back with them anyway but going on to Montreal (although our proposed route would take us nowhere near Montreal, not that this has ever bothered me in a nocturnal ramble). We eventually arrived where the guard had indicated, and what there was was merely a window sill that everyone was using. I let the girl go first and I went second. But – once again – who on earth was this girl who was so familiar?
Strangely enough, some of the scenery and background, particularly of the bit about the route to Canada, has appeared in a nocturnal voyage a while ago when I had flown to New York and hired a car to take me out into the rural area to the south-west across the Hudson River where I could see the surreal urban landscape of the city and the enormously high elevated highway that would bring me back to the city.
And this isn’t all, either. In the 15 minutes that I dozed back off to sleep after the alarm, I was gone yet again. I was in France, back at my house (although it’s nothing like my house at all) and I decided to go for a bicycle ride along the trails in the woods. I went on the blue and silver racing bike (I really have this, rescued from a house clearance a couple of years ago) which had no brakes and no gears. On a particularly steep bit across the ravine I could see the neighbour’s children having a great deal of fun amusing themselves and looking over at them, I stalled and I just couldn’t get the bike going again no matter how I tried. I pushed the bicycle up the steep hill towards the houses and the shops and there at the top of the steep bit, coming down the hill on a bicycle was a girl aged about 11 or 12 in a tube top kind of outfit, cycling past the houses and the shops. It was at this point that the car pulled up and slammed its door – the real car outside – and I was off downstairs.

And that’s your lot for today – all 2237 words, another new record, and most of which is total rubbish. No wonder it took me so long to type it. I really ought to be charging you to read this rubbish. Don’t forget about the Amazon links aside.

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