Tag Archives: x-ray

Monday 5th January 2025 – WHAT A NIGHT …

… that was!

When i checked the time at one point, it was 02:15 and I was still up, working. And it’s been a very long time since that has happened, a very long time indeed.

The irony of it all was that it could have been an early night. I’d finished my notes early and had done everything else quite rapidly that I’d needed to do, but I was … errr … detained.

Earlier in the day on Sunday, I’d been doing some housekeeping on the hard drives and I ended up with a massive 335 GB that needed to be transferred from one external drive to another.

However, I had unfortunately forgotten just how slow this computer is compared to the desktop one. A task that would have taken three or four hours went on – and on – and on, and by about 22:45, when I was thinking of going to bed, it was still grinding away with hours still to go.

It was really out of the question to stop it, because I’d just have to start all the way from the beginning again, so I decided to let it run its course and to find something else to do while I was waiting.

So there I was, trying to find a lot to do because it just kept on going. Round about 02:20, it finally ground to a halt and no-one was more relieved than me to crawl into my bed after all that. I didn’t need much rocking, that’s for sure.

When the alarm went off at 06:29, I decided that that was rather over-optimistic so I switched it off and curled back under the bedclothes. I’d reset it for 08:00, but when that went off, I did likewise.

The nurse, surprised to find me still in bed, awoke me to sort out my legs, and then threw the covers back over me and left. I was disappointed that he didn’t read me a bedtime story, but I don’t suppose that you can have everything.

Back to sleep I went, to awaken finally at about 10:00. It took me a good half-hour to summon up the energy to leave the bed, and I crawled off into the bathroom for a wash and shave in case I meet Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon at dialysis.

It was rather late to think about breakfast, so I just had half a bowl of porridge and a coffee to keep the lupus from the porte, as they would have said in Ancient Rome.

Back in here, I transcribed the dictaphone notes, and no-one was more surprised than me to actually find something.

I was in my Welsh class last night and we were doing some revision. We came across a revision exercise and I’d had a look at it beforehand so I knew a little bit of the answers. She asked this woman the first question, but th woman couldn’t think of the Welsh word for “couple”. The teacher in the end suggested dyllint or something. So she answered the first question, and I was expecting the second question to be passed on to someone else but instead, she asked the same woman. I thought that if she’s asking the same person all these questions, what does she have lined up in store for the rest of us? If I haven’t revised it, I’m going to be looking very foolish. I was sitting on a bench by the docks and there were fishing rods and everything all around me. There were two little girls sitting on a bench. I knew who they were but i just couldn’t put a name to them. I noticed that every now and again, one of them was giving a glance at me so I gave her a little wave and next time, I gave her a little wave again. She said “Eric, could we come to sit by you?”. I said “well, I have a class exam at the moment but you can come and sit on this bench with me afterwards if you like when I’ve finished this exam.

This must be a premonition because I didn’t have time to revise my Welsh this morning ready for class tomorrow. I’ve no idea who the little girls were, but they obviously knew me. And As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … what would I be doing with fishing rods?

By the way, the Welsh word for “couple” is cwpl

Once I’d done that, I went into the kitchen to prepare for dialysis. My cleaner turned up as usual to apply the anaesthetic, and in return I gave her the other half of her Christmas present that had been delivered yesterday, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall.

Believe it or not, I’d forgotten that I was going early for this X-ray. But it made no difference because the taxi was late arriving. Apparently, in all the snow that we were having, my driver had taken ninety minutes to come from St.Lô instead of the usual forty-five.

There were two other people to collect too, one in Sartilly where the roads hadn’t been cleared at all, so the time was just out of control.

To make matters worse, there was no-one at reception when we arrived at the hospital and we had to wait fifteen minutes for someone to appear.

There was no-one at X-ray either so it was another long, uncomfortable wait for someone to appear. So never mind my 14:00 appointment at dialysis – it was 15:09 when I was finally plugged in.

While I was there, I was introduced to Julie the Cook’s replacement. Unfortunately, she doesn’t bake so we’ll have to find other things to talk about.

Emilie the Cute Consultant came to see me, which was nice. She’d seen the X-ray and there’s no obstruction or infection, so she’s at a loss what to do next.

Eventually, I was liberated and ws able to come home, hours later than usual. It was the young chatty guy who brought me home so we had an interesting conversation all the way home.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me in the sub-Arctic conditions and she helped me home. And after she left, I had the other half of yesterday’s pizza followed by a slice of Christmas cake. I must finish that off too. However, we’re back at the “everything tastes of salt” stage and it was all most unpleasant.

Right now though, even though it’s tremendously early, I’m going to bed. I’m hoping for a good sleep to make up for last night, but I doubt it very much. We can but hope. The biggest problem right now is the pain in my foot, and it’s killing me. It’s the worst that I’ve ever known it to be.

But seeing as we have been talking about Emilie the Cute Consultant … "well, one of us has" – ed … when she told me about the results of the x-ray, I asked her "so how do I stand now?"
"Well, " she replied, after a moment’s thought, "having watched you staggering about on your crutches for the last eighteen months, I’ve been wondering that myself."

Wednesday 27th August 2025 – AND ONCE AGAIN …

… when the alarm went off at 06:29, I was still fast asleep.

It’s no surprise really, for when you don’t go to bed until after 00:30, there really isn’t all that much time for sleeping. It is, however, disappointing to say the least. I was hoping that this series of very early starts would go on and on and on.

Yes, it was after 00:30 when I finally went to bed last night. I know that what with one thing and another, it was a late night but I hadn’t realised that it was that late until I checked the time.

Once in bed, though, I remember nothing at all. I must have gone to sleep quite quickly and stayed there until the alarm. Being as tired as I have been over this last week or so since chemotherapy, the good (well, for me, anyway) sleep probably did me some good.

Mind you, I didn’t feel like leaving the bed when the alarm went off. Once again, for two pins I would have gone back to bed. I had a real struggle to leave the bed before the second alarm went off.

It really was a slow start to the morning. It took an age to sort myself out in the bathroom and I didn’t rush to take my medication. It was about 07:40 when I finally made it back into here.

First thing that I did was to check the dictaphone, “just in case”. I was travelling miles in my sleep but I can hardly remember anything of it because the alarm awoke me yet again. However, I do remember that on one occasion I was going back into a place where I worked, trying to smuggle out a textbook or instruction book or something so that I could do some work at home on the Thursday or Friday and have the book back in the office for Monday morning. I also remember doing something with a sheet of newspaper, rolling it up into some kind of spiral like the kind of thing that you’d make if you were lighting a fire. That’s all that I remember about what was going on during the night.

And isn’t that disappointing too? Having a really interesting dream, only to find it evaporate away like that.

The nurse was early again and he was once more in a spirit of amiability. I hope that this keeps up, rather than his usual depressive state

After he left, it was breakfast time. However, I had hardly started it, never mind finished it, when there was a ring on the doorbell. I’m not sure that I mentioned yesterday that the dialysis centre wants me to go for a Doppler examination on the implant in my arm. It had been arranged for 09:30 this morning here in Granville, so I wasn’t expecting the taxi at 08:45.

We arrived at the hospital at 09:05, in plenty of time for my appointment at 09:30, so it goes without saying that I wasn’t seen until a little after 10:00. My taxi driver had already been once to pick me back up but she found me sitting there waiting to be called.

The doctor who performed the examination was someone whom I have met on several occasions in the past. A small lady of “a certain age”, she would make a very good companion to my favourite taxi driver, for she is another one who gives a running commentary of “a certain kind” while she is working. Those two working together would make a wonderful combination.

She had me there for well over half an hour, and the result is exactly as I knew it to be before we even talked about going – namely, there’s a fault in my implant right where the second needle goes, and the fault has been there for months, exactly as I said that it had.

That is the responsibility of the clinic that tried its best to rob me of €1667 or thereabouts last summer, and for which I had to fight over four months for it to be returned. I am now awaiting the formal report before I decide my next move.

However, I shall be having words with the doctors at the dialysis centre too. I’ve been complaining about this implant for months, and no-one has done anything about it. It’s a shame that I had to write to the dialysis centre’s head office so that something could be done, and despite the objections of the chef de service who, as regular readers of this rubbish will recall, took great exception to my letter, my letter has produced some kind of results.

When I left the radiology booth, my poor taxi driver was still awaiting me. I felt terribly sorry for her but there wasn’t all that much that I could do about it.

It was 10:55 when I arrived back here and I’ll tell you something for nothing, and that was that it was lovely just to walk back all on my own across the courtyard to the front door, into the building and straight into my new apartment without having to worry about how I’m going to climb 25 stairs.

First thing that I did when I was back here was to reheat my porridge and coffee in the microwave and then finish my breakfast, at long last.

The second thing was to say hello to my faithful cleaner who came in carrying an urgent letter. And so it’s official that Tuesday 16th September I go to Rennes for my next session of chemotherapy.

It looks as if it’s just for the day too. Plenty of mention about what I need to bring, but nothing at all about an “overnight bag”. Of course, I’ll telephone to check. However, if it is just a day visit, that will cause a few other problems because I don’t think that I’ll be in much of a state to travel afterwards, if the previous sessions have been anything to go by.

Much of the afternoon has been spent beginning to unpack my office and installing my external drives. There’s a lot to do in this respect and it will take a while to do it all.

However, the good news is that I have had my first shower. And it was gorgeous too. It worked just as I wanted it to and I was so impressed. However, climbing in and out of the shower is difficult. The step up is just a little too high for me.

But I have a solution to that. Lying around here are all kinds of offcuts of scrap wood from the kitchen, and if I put two or three together and screw them so that they don’t move, they would make a nice step up of half-height and so I should be able to manage the ascent so much better.

What kind of state am I in these days?

Later on, we had another foot-fest. I’d missed the match between Stranraer and Clyde at the weekend, and last night Stranraer had taken on Glasgow Rangers Youth in the Scottish League Cup.

The match at the weekend was a tame 1-1 draw but last night’s match was … errr … interesting, to say the least. Stranraer won 4-1 but, big Stranraer fan that I am, their third goal was scored from the softest ever penalty award that I have ever seen which in 99 games out of 100 would have been waved away, and as for the fourth goal, you can show me that again as many times as you like and from every kind of angle too, and I will still say that the Stranraer forward was half a mile offside.

However, Stranraer has in the past been on the wrong end of several dubious decisions in the past so I suppose that things eventually even themselves out.

Tea tonight was an aubergine and kidney bean whatsit out of the freezer with pasta and vegetables, and in a return to normality after the upheaval of the last week or so, I read some more of MIDDLESEX IN BRITISH, ROMAN AND SAXON TIMES by Montagu Sharpe.

Sharpe has been discussing the Iron-Age occupation of Middlesex by the various Celtic tribes and that has led me on a chase around cyberspace for buried treasure. Quite literally too, because the subject of buried hoards from the Iron Age came into the discussion.

Of course, I went off on a side-track and in the words of Fridtjof Nansen, "the more extensive my studies became, the more riddles I perceived – riddle after riddle led to new riddles and this drew me on."

And that, dear reader, is the answer to why it takes me so long to write up my notes, and why my Degree studies were not as they ought to have been. I am side-tracked far too easily by things that, to me at least, are much more interesting than whatever I am supposed to be doing.

So late once more, even though at one stage it promised to be quite early, I’m off to bed, wondering if I’ll have another “lie-in” until the alarm goes off.

But despite my having the first decent meal tonight since before chemotherapy, it’s been something of a bad day. On several occasions, I’ve felt my head spinning round and I’ve had to hold on to something to stop me falling. I’ve still not recovered from chemotherapy, I reckon, and I have no idea for how long this is going to continue.

But seeing as we have been talking about Fridtjof Nansen … "well, one of us has" – ed … he is of course famous for his epic hike across Greenland in 1888. During his trek he came across an Inuit building one of these little round houses out of ice blocks.
"What do you call this building?" asked Nansen
"It’s an ig" replied the Inuit
"Don’t you mean ‘igloo’?" asked Nansen
"Oh no" replied the Inuit. "There’s no plumbing up here on the Greenland Ice Cap."

Tuesday 29th July 2025 – I STILL HAVEN’T …

… uploaded the photo of my bedroom, despite what I said yesterday … "and the day before" – ed …

For a change, I have been in great demand and I’ve no idea why I’ve suddenly become so popular.

Not that I was in any fit state to upload the photo last night either. I was so tired last night and had a real struggle to reach the end of the day’s programme. I was fighting off (sometimes unsuccessfully) wave after wave of sleep while I was working and that made me even later than it otherwise might have been.

In the end, I’ve no idea what time it was when I finally hit the hay. I couldn’t be bothered to look. All that I wanted to do was to sleep.

Not that I managed much of that either. It was an extremely restless night that saw me awaken several times. In the end, round about 05:30, I gave up even trying and crawled out from under the covers.

It was the usual desperate stagger into the bathroom followed by an even more desperate stagger into the kitchen for the medication. None of this should be any surprise of course, bearing in mind how I was feeling.

Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night, and I was astonished. I must have travelled miles. I was at the dialysis centre last night. They were busy sorting out people into what particular treatment they needed. With me of course it was the filtration but also I’m there for three and a half hours with my legs raised somewhat. During the dream they had me weighing myself and they were calculating the weight of my legs, fitting weights and things to them that were inclined and much more complicated to work so that I was walking around with my full weight all the time. It was a most uncomfortable situation to walk around or to sit down or to sleep like this but they didn’t seem to care. Into the room came some Jamaican Hercules dancing troupe people who had presumably been captured by the ancient explorers and brought to Europe. They were there in full dance mode while we were waiting to be treated with dialysis.

As I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … even though I’m asleep when I’m dictating, when it comes to transcribing the notes there’s some kind of recollection of something in the back of my mind. But for this one, I have absolutely no idea at all. Apart from the dialysis and the musculation exercises (which will become relevant as you read on), it’s totally meaningless … "aren’t they all?" – ed …

On the dictaphone too, some time later was a note that I can still see the emblems from this dialysis session too. On this machine where I was being treated, on the floor was an arrow and a drawing of one of these ad-hoc storage unit things on wheels, something like a portable patient, with a drawing of a patient upside-down by his ankles and the person in charge of the county of Chester was also drummoned and sentence to be executed on this Danish island somewhere and he had a small chest and a double overlooking a uniform thing, yoga pants, tight yoga top. People were wearing that and this was how it was drawn, this pictogram, along with you upside down having been held by your ankles and an umbrella upside down, being held by the hook over the arm of the dialysis thing.

It’s strange that I stepped back, totally unawares, into a dream of which I was totally unaware. This is some kind of new experience. Usually, I can remember stepping back into dreams, even if it doesn’t happen as often as I like, especially when one of my young ladies is involved.

Later on, one of the boys from the Welsh class came round last night. He was in an extremely bad mood and I thought that it was something that I had done at first. Instead, it turned out that he had been trying to do the Welsh homework all day, which was a bookkeeping exercise, and had failed miserably despite all that he could do. We sat down and looked at it, and I couldn’t make head nor tail of it either. Generally, when bookkeeping goes wrong, you have something in the wrong column. We tried various permutations but that didn’t work. In the end, we thought that we’d leave it and let our heads clear, and go back a little later. He told me that he’d seen another member of the class wandering around who was on his way to sit on the beach at Goodwin Sands so after seeing him leave, I went for a wander out onto the cliffs overlooking Goodwin Sands. That guy was there on the cliffs looking down at the people. We could hear someone having a really good discussion with a small group. Suddenly, he mentioned the name of our classmate and there was a reply, so we shouted down his name. He stuck his head out of the crowd, saw us and waved so we waited. Someone wanted to know who it was who called down to him. He replied “it’s some friends”. They said something like “it’s not that little girl who follows you around who has come to see what you’re doing, is it?”. He replied “no, because her mother is already down here on the beach and she’s hardly likely to come down here on the beach and leave her daughter somewhere else. So if her mother is here, the daughter is here so it can’t have been her who yelled”.

We should have had a Welsh group chat today but this morning we had a mail to say that it’s been postponed. The area around the Goodwin Sands, that is, the cliffs of Pegwell Bay, is an area that I know very well from the days of my youth and summer holidays with my mother’s relatives on the Isle of Thanet.

There was a whole group of us wandering around in IKEA doing the shopping but it was dragging on and on and on. In the end I lost a little patience and went for a wander around. Eventually, everyone else caught up with me and asked where I’d been. I told them that I’d been off with Zero looking at a few things and then I’d wandered off into the food hall. “Well, Zero never said anything” her father said “but she did ask if anyone thought whether she was trying to get you into trouble”. I replied “no, she won’t ever get me into trouble”. “Well, you need to be careful because she’ll dye your work trousers brown without any second thoughts”. We had something of a laugh about that but I was definitely not in a very good mood during that shopping trip. I was really fed up with this whole kind of thing at the moment.

So welcome back, Zero. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. It really is nice when one of my young ladies puts in an appearance during the night, and how I wish I could step back into a dream with one of them. However, as seems to be always the case, someone comes along to throw a spanner into the works.

Isabelle the nurse turned up this morning. She gave me my injection and then sorted out my feet. I could then make breakfast and read some more of MY BOOK.

Today, we are talking about all of the jousts between knights etc and the trials by combat that all took place at Smithfield, quite often in front of the monarch. One of the combatants was called, rather eloquently, “The Bastard of Burgundy”

There’s a lengthy discussion on the banquets that were served up at the Bishop of Ely’s residence, and I couldn’t believe the amount of food cooked. Even our author says that "it were tedious to set down the preparation of fish, flesh and other victuals consumed at this feast."

As it happens, I’ve seen the list, and I wouldn’t know where to begin to describe it. We start with "twenty-four great beefs… and one ox" through an entire menagerie to "larks, three hundred and forty dozen."

More interestingly though, he touches on the origins of the Old Bailey and the Inns of Court.

After breakfast, the taxi came to pick me up to take me for my x-ray. It was the guy who thinks that he’s the boss, and we had a very interesting chat all the way to the hospital.

When the x-ray was finished, I had to wait around for the taxi to take me back, and as there was no cleaner to help me upstairs, I had to manage myself. After a pause to recover, I packed a few more boxes.

My plumber had mailed me with a list of things that he needs for the shower so my kitchen fitter and I spent an age going through various on-line catalogues to find stuff that was available at short notice.

In the end, we had quite a list and he went off on a prowl to try to find what we need. He found most things, and acceptable substitutes for the rest, so who knows? I may even have a shower quite soon.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that yesterday I had something of a moan about the kitchen fitter, but I really must shut up and instead, count my blessings that I have found someone who is prepared to go way beyond the extra mile to help me out.

When my cleaner turned up to drop off tomorrow’s injection, she took down the boxes that I’d packed and they are now ready for putting away, which will be Thursday’s task.

There was the radio programme to finish, and that’s now done. I followed that by reviewing the programmes for the month of August and they are being sent off one by one ready for inclusion while the coordinator is on holiday.

In the middle of all of this, the Re-education Centre contacted me. Would I like to come for an assessment interview on 26th September? I don’t see why not. After all, it might even do me some good, even if I doubt it very much. But one thing is for sure, and that is that the taxi owner can buy himself a new Rolls-Royce this year.

While I was at it, I rang up the dialysis centre about the mattress, but for all the good that it did me, I may as well have saved my energy. "No-one else has complained about it" was the helpful … "I don’t think" – ed … reply.

So having had a fry-up (for a change) for tea, I’m off to bed ready for all of this work that I have to do tomorrow.

But seeing as we have been talking about x-rays … "well, one of us has" – ed … while I was in the hospital, I heard two x-ray plates talking to each other.
"I’ve lost an electron" said one of them
"Are you sure?" asked the other.
"Ohh yes. I’m positive."

Monday 16th December 2024 – JUST FOR A CHANGE …

… the session at the Dialysis Centre this afternoon was almost totally painless. I don’t understand that at all

Added to that, I was lucky enough to have had a visit from Emilie the Cute Consultant. She came to see how I was and if I needed anything. Anything medical, that is.

Mind you, whatever rift we have had hasn’t healed quite yet because our chat was quickly business and she didn’t say “goodbye” as she left. It’s fair to say that she doesn’t love me any more, and that’s sad, especially after our cosy chats in the Summer with her perched on the edge of my bed, spending hours discussing nothing in particular.

What else that doesn’t happen any more is me being in bed at a reasonable time. Once more, it was long after midnight when I crawled into my stinking pit but as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … much as I would like to be in bed before 23:00, I’ve given up rushing and am now taking things easy. I’ll go to bed at whatever time I happen to finish.

Once in bed though, it didn’t take long to go to sleep and there I stayed, dead to the World, until the alarm went off at 07:00.

BILLY COTTON’S DULCET TONES aroused me from my slumbers and I staggered off into the bathroom to prepare myself for the ordeal

As well as a good wash, I had a shave and then washed my undies ready for Wednesday when I hope to have another shower and make myself all nice and clean. These showers are not very convenient only once per week. When I have the apartment downstairs and the shower is all nicely installed, I’ll be having a shower every Dialysis morning, and probably a few more besides

Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. To my surprise and disappointment, there was nothing on there this morning but I have vague memories of being a singer/songwriter being at some kind of concert, or going to play at some kind of concert. We had to arrive at a certain time and camping was very sauvage in a field. When I arrived there was already a mobile home with someone and a tent from someone else. There were some restrictions on what you can play – you couldn’t play anything that anyone else was going to play etc. That’s really all that I remember of that.

Pretty much similar to what happens at the Harvest Jazz and Blues Festival in Fredericton. Camping is on the National Park out by the reservoir and although the pitches are pretty well set out, it’s still quite wild camping and every now and again a deer or a raccoon scurries across your path.

But not as wild as that camping ground in Upstate Maine where I stayed one night, where everyone was told to make sure that all their food is kept well inside their vehicle as the bears that roam through the place at night will otherwise steal it. As the Park Ranger explained to me, "there’s a considerable overlap of intelligence between the smartest of bears and the dumbest of tourists, and we have them both here"

In the wild of course, you’d throw a rope over a branch, tie your sack of provisions to one end of the rope and then pull the sack up aloft, out of reach of the bear.

It’s certainly though a case of “disappointment” that there’s nothing on the dictaphone. Something else that I’ve said before … "and also on many occasions too" – ed … is that the only excitement that I have these days is what goes on during the night.

The nurse was early again and didn’t say much. He’s probably still smarting from yesterday. He was in and out in five minutes, which suits me fine, and then I could carry on with something more exciting.

Like making my breakfast and reading my book. It’s the story of the accidental discovery of a Roman … "Gallo-Roman! GRRRR!" – ed … building on a field, which led to an archaeological investigation that uncovered a farm dating from the 1st Century BC to the 4th Century AD

At the moment they are digging down and have uncovered a cellar with the steps that go down to it

The site isn’t as rich in artefacts as any site in the UK. That’s mainly because there never was the dramatic rupture of private life of the inhabitants as there was in the UK with the arrival of the Saxons, then the Danes, then the Normans.

Anyone abandoning the site in France generally had time to pack up and take his possessions with him, or if not, come back and fetch them when the emergency was over. In the UK, the arrival of the barbarians led to wholesale destruction and massacre, with nothing left worth taking and no-one left alive to take it anyway.

It’s the difference between “orderly evacuation of a site” and “panic-stricken flight”.

Back in here I carried on with my Welsh homework, but it wasn’t finished when my cleaner came to fit my anaesthetic patches. I’m leaving early today to go to the hospital.

The taxi came, driven by a very taciturn driver, and what he lacked in conversation he made up with speed and we had one of the quickest trips that I have ever had down to Avranches.

He pushed me in a wheelchair to the X-Ray Department and there he left me, although he may as well have waited because I was in and out before he’d probably had time to find his way out of the building.

Armed with some pretty impressive photos of my foot, I waited for the next taxi to arrive, and a very pleasant woman took me over the road to the Dialysis Centre.

For a change I didn’t have to wait long to be seen, and the plugging in was almost totally painless. I had the usual crash out once the machine started and then everything went OK.

As I said earlier, Emilie the Cute Consultant came to see me but our conversation was on a professional level. The two of us, and Anaïs who seemed to be the nurses’ shift leader, had a chat about my forthcoming trip to Paris and they could indeed, exceptionally, fit me in on the Wednesday morning beforehand.

That’s quite inconvenient, but it can’t be helped, I suppose. And I thought that I’d better arrange it and tell Paris what I’d done rather than leave it to them and find that they have forgotten to do it.

As for reading matter, I came across a book about infamous Cheshire personalities. And to my surprise, I’m not in it. But the author is an unashamed and unrepentant fan of that politician who was called A LIAR AND A CHEAT by the Grauniad and never ever went through with his promise to them for libel, something that led many people to wonder what might come out in evidence if he actually did take the paper to Court, and why might he be afraid of it so doing.

He champions several other Cheshire people who were caught up in various allegations of sleaze and dishonesty, and one thing that all these people had in common was that they were all members of the Conservative Party when he wrote his book.

Most of them have by today though been found even too extreme for even the current batch of Tory politicians and have been pushed out to the Fascists where they belong. But I digress. These pages aren’t about politics.

When the time came I was uncoupled, and clutching the Christmas present that the Dialysis Centre gave to each one of us, I headed out to the taxi that was already waiting.

The run back home was quick and I was soon back in the warmth of my lovely apartment.

Tea tonight was a delicious stuffed pepper with pasta in tomato sauce, followed by ginger cake and soya dessert.

Tomorrow there’s no Welsh lesson, but I have homework to finish and then I’m baking my Christmas cake. I can’t believe how quickly Christmas has come. It has taken me by surprise and I’m nothing like ready. But this evening I installed my strings of lights in the windows here and they look quite nice, seen from the street.

Before I go to bed, on the subject of professional behaviour, at the hospital today I overheard two doctors conversing
"Didn’t I see you last night" said one "in the company of Madame X, the notorious local prostitute?"
"I’m afraid that you did" replied the other. "But you needn’t worry. It was for purely professional reasons"
"I don’t doubt you for a moment" answered the first. "The question simply is, were the reasons concerned with your profession or hers?"

Wednesday 24th April 2024 – THAT WAS AN …

… adventure!

Right now I’m back home sitting in my favourite chair and you’ve no idea just how grateful I am. It was the last thing that I expected today but as Paul Peña wrote and Steve Miller sang, YOU KNOW YOU GOTTA GO THROUGH HELL BEFORE YOU GET TO HEAVEN

Last night though, after I’d finished my notes etc I went straight to bed and spent a very pleasant hour or so listening to “Alquin” on the computer. As regular readers of this rubbish will recall, THE MOUNTAIN QUEEN is one of my favourite albums of all time, especially since I met the group, a band from Delft in the Netherlands, in a dingy damp cellar underneath an old hotel in Crewe in 1975.

It was something of a disturbed, turbulent night. I can’t recall too many interruptions from the staff but there’s a huge pile of stuff on the dictaphone that you will discover as you read on.

By 08:00 I was wide awake and as no-one had come past by 08:30 to awaken me, bring me breakfast, take a blood sample etc, I left the bed, did what I had to do and then washed my clothes.

Just as I was hanging up the sodden rags to dry out, the doctor came in and handed me my leaving pouch.
"Am I leaving then?" I asked
"Ohh" she replied. "Hasn’t anyone told you? Anyway, your taxi will be here at 13:00"
What a shame she hadn’t come 5 minutes earlier when my clothes were still dry

She went through the documents with me and made sure that I understood everything.

And then I went through my requirements, including the fact that she needs to apply to the Securité Sociale. for another series of authorisations, but I don’t think that she understood. That’s important of course, so I’ll ring up the taxi company and have them involved in the proceedings.

"By the way" she added "You have a consultation at ‘Imagerie’ at 10:30" so bang goes my idea of a shower. It’s a good job though that I had a good wash and changed my clothes.

At 10:00 the driver turned up to take me to “Imagerie” and off we set.

When we arrived I was told that they wanted to take a few scans of my heart so I had to strip off, clad myself in some paper overalls and then lie flat out on a bed while they clamped all kinds of strange devices to me and pumped me full of some kind of fluid.

Once I was ready they passed me through one of these Stargate time-tunnel things, back and forth for half an hour or more, taking all kinds of strange photos while the machine made all kinds of strange noises and I had to do all kinds of breathing exercises

Eventually they dragged me out and with my head spinning and body shaking (and it still is, even now) I went and dressed ready for the ride back.

And whose stupid idea was it to take my blood pressure as soon as I’d come back from all of that?

Batman and Robin weren’t on duty today – I must have scared them off – so another young nurse came in to ask me "we need to have your room ready for another arrival at 13:00. Would you mind waiting in the waiting room?"

So that’s why they want me gone. "Well, if it’s a nice young lady, I don’t mind sharing the room" I replied but she told me to clear off.

They brought me my lunch to the waiting room – bulghour with chicken followed by pork and courgettes. The peaches with almonds for dessert were nice though.

The taxi was booked for 13:00 so of course he turned up at 14:40. With the A13 being closed it’s total chaos in the outskirts of Paris right now.

Once in the car we had to go on a TRAVERSÉE DE PARIS, with no Bourvil to carry my suitcase, to another hospital to pick up another passenger. The trip across the city was a nightmare and finding the correct entrance was something else too.

And then there were “parking issues” while the driver went in search of his passenger.

Eventually we set off for home, going a very tortuous way via Rungis and Versailles to avoid the queues on a journey that seemed to take for ever and after a pitstop near Caen, we had first to go to Bréhal to drop off passenger number 2. We eventually arrived back here at 19:45.

My faithful cleaner was waiting for me which was lovely. She helped me up the stairs (and I needed it too) and into my room, where she went through the papers and took what she needed for the chemist. I had an energy drink – and I needed that too.

There was one jar of vegan pesto remaining and I’d saved it for some special occasion or other. “Now” seemed like a special occasion so I made a big dish of pasta with assorted vegetables and smothered it all with half the jar.

And it was delicious too.

So this is all that I’m doing. I’m totally wasted and I’m going to bed. With luck I’ll have a really good sleep ready to face Isabelle the nurse tomorrow morning

As for the dictaphone notes, there are quite a few of these. I was with my brother (so I was right) and we were having to go to Shavington. We set out to walk but it was really late at night. Our parents had gone to Sandbach but we wondered why. They were supposed to be doing something but we reckoned that it was really an excuse for a party and a drink. As we walked it was the biggest moon that we had ever seen. There was only probably about a tenth of it that was bright but we could make out the shape of the rest of it above the horizon. It was absolutely enormous. As we walked we looked at the houses and the Christmas lights. We wondered whether one of them was actually on fire because of the way the lights were working. Then we cut off to Shavington down that track that I take frequently in my dreams, a long, narrow track, but I’ve not been down it for a while but at one time I’d go down it once per week. As we started to go down there – we’d gone maybe a quarter of a mile – we noticed someone leading some horses. My brother made some offensive remark about me being unwilling to spend any money. It seemed that his idea would be to hire a couple of these horses and go to Shavington on horseback to save having to walk. I thought that there’s nowhere to leave the horses, you can’t just tie them up in the street like in a Western. You’re going to need someone to hold them while we were at the doctor’s. It’s all going to be just far too complicated to even think about hiring a couple of horses to go there and come back.

That’s a track down which I’ve walked, or skied, or climbed on many occasions during the night and I’ve no idea why it keeps on cropping up like this. I’ve no idea if it exists in real life and I’ve certainly never encountered it for real as far as I’m aware.

Later on I was with a girl and her sister. There was some kind of event going on in the village but it was really poorly attended. There were very few people there. There were two beer tents and most of the people with me, because we were a large group, preferred one tent but I thought that the beer in the second was much better. I tended to patronise that one. In the end I managed to persuade people that that one was best and they came over. They were wondering how everything worked so I explained that I bet that he was really disappointed with the attendance. I explained that when I used to put on rock concerts I’d hire a complete bar and just buy the beer etc but I needed about 80 or 90 people to make a profit at the bar and that rarely happened. They were surprised by that. In the end we set out to walk home. I’d sold everything that I had in rural France except for one plot of land where I had four Cortinas parked. My friend’s sister was planning on moving too. I had my old J4 so she told me that when we reached her house, to back it into the drive and do something useful but I’d no idea what she meant by that and what her plans were. There was a big house for sale with lovely gardens that had been empty for years. We were admiring that on the way back. My friend said that she’d enquired about buying it but it needed more money than she had. We carried on walking and talking back to my friend’s sister’s house but I’d still no idea about what was going on and there were only a few more hours left before the end of the day. if she was planning on moving today she was leaving it extremely late because we’re never going to fit everything of hers into my J4 van.

Cortinas as usual, and my old J4 van has started to make regular appearances just recently too which is bizarre. But it’s true about the bar. We could rent the bar and staff for free if the turnover was over a certain amount but the owner needed a guaranteed minimum to cover his expenses and that had to be made up by the hirer if there was a shortfall

And then I was watching two girls, one of them a ward of mine, fighting over a boyfriend using broadswords. It was an extremely tame affair with the two of them jabbing at each other. Most of the wounds with broadswords according to modern autopsy were like overarm slashes down onto the head yet these were just poking at each other. The ward of mine asked permission to go out with this boy. I gave it because I didn’t see any reason why she shouldn’t but the other girl was extremely upset. This led to the fight.

And overarm slashes being the common cause of death in medieval fights with broadswords. I was impressed that I could remember anatomical details like that during a dream.

There had been some dispute between two men over something too. One had gone into a second-hand shop, changed his clothes and hid in the shop in the hope of escape of his pursuer but that didn’t work. They had a fight too. Somewhere in the middle of all of this I was walking through Crewe planning on going for an ice cream with my brother’s wife (as if that would ever be likely to happen) when I bumped into a guy who told me that he was going to Birmingham for the best ice cream in the UK. I knew this guy from somewhere but I couldn’t think where so I decided to go with him. We dashed to pick up my brother’s wife but she wasn’t in so we headed for the railway station. I boarded the train with this guy and went to see the conductor about buying a seat but my friend told me that there were no seats available on this train. It was completely full. I had to reluctantly disembark and go back to my original plans.

There was something else but I only remember a small part of this. I was with a guy who was going across the Channel on a ferry so I thought that I’d go with him. We went in his car, drove to the ferry terminal and joined the queue but we couldn’t understand why all these people were standing around so strangely. We suddenly realised that each person was about twelve feet apart from the one in front and behind. That was how their cars were going to be parked on the ferry. There were no cars there though, just the people standing in position. We had to go to the back of the queue then walk twelve paces behind the person who was there and then stand and wait around. God knows what was happening to the vehicles because there were none about at all. Everyone else kept on turning up, people having fun in the ferns and bracken that were all around this car park. It really was the strangest thing that I’ve ever encountered, all of us just standing there twelve feet apart in our own little family groups etc and not a car in sight.

So after transcribing all of that I’ll probably go back to sleep again.

While I’m doing that, I can reflect on my conversation with the photographer as I left the Stargate
"Did you manage to find my heart?" I asked
"Yes I did" she replied
"Thank heavens for that" I replied. "I’m not turning into a Conservative after all"

Sunday 14th January 2024 – GUESS WHO…

… spent several hours in the Casualty department of the local hospital here in Granville last night?

What at first had appeared to be just a dull, throbbing pain though the part of my right leg that can actually feel anything, I could feel it going worse and worse as the evening continued and I began to freeze.

Once in bed, the pain increased and I began to shiver violently. I can recognise the symptoms of severe shock just as well as anyone else and with no improvement with the passage of time (quite the reverse, as it happened), in the end I gave up and phoned my cleaner who lives upstairs.

She was down here in an instant and one look was all that it took. She phoned up the emergency number and we all had a very lengthy chat with three different people before they decided to send an ambulance.

While we were waiting she, following my instructions, packed my emergency bag which she promised to bring during the day, and then she helped the ambulancemen, one of whom I knew, take me to their vehicle. And that wasn’t easy either, 25 steps and no lift.

Once I arrived, I told my story to four different people, one after the other after the other, while the pain was increasing and increasing, and then I was x-rayed with my leg and foot being twisted into some of the most painful positions imaginable, without even the suggestion of a painkiller.

Wheeled out of the x-ray cabinet on a stretcher far too small for me, I was told to “get some rest” which, as you can imagine, on a tiny stretcher with a painful leg overhanging into a void and with no painkiller or anything, was pretty much impossible.

Eventually, they came back, told me that the x-rays showed no breaks, gave me a couple of painkillers and said that the ambulance will be back shortly to pick me up and take me home.

And lifting me up 25 steps with no lift was no laughing matter either for the poor ambulancemen, but I was back in bed in a state of semi-comatose stupefaction (and drugged up to the eyebrows too) by 05:00.

Liz had a chat with me at about 08:45 on the internet but I was talking utter nonsense and fell asleep again, to awaken at 12:45.

The painkillers had worn off by then but I had some more around here. I hate using painkillers because while you’re walking around on damaged bone and tissue, you don’t realise the damage that you are doing. But in my case, the right leg is damaged enough so it makes no difference.

It’s a good job that it’s not my left leg that I hurt. I really would be in difficulty. But even so, the damaged nerve in my right leg that gives me those stabbing pains in the soles of my foot that I thought that I’d dealt with is now back again, and in spades too.

After my delicious soup, bread and coffee (and it really was too) I transcribed the dictaphone notes. Yes, to my surprise there were some, but none of the young lady who was here or hereabouts last night. But we did have various musicians with us, including someone from IN THE LAND OF GREY AND PINK, un autre groupe … "dreaming in French again, are we?" – ed … who played in front of us. I leant over too far for something and ended up with my right knee totally collapsed just as the football was finishing. I had to watch the first two chapters on my foot but my right arm was really depressed and unstable. I’ve not able to be visited by my mother-in-law about the cables everywhere yet but when I’m too ill to see The Land Of Grey And Pink … fell asleep here … and the chairwoman as I said called the meeting to order and sent me off for these things

And then some woman was being investigated by the Tax Office for some kind of irregularities in connection with a hairdressing salon. It turned out that many years ago she’d also been the subject of an investigation in respect of a chip shop somewhere in Bradwell in Newcastle under Lyme. Quite naturally, having fallen foul of the Tax Office twice they were being quite severe with her. This investigation had been going on and I’d been asked if I would like to take part in part of it. I went along to see the people there at the Tax Office but for some reason they were extremely busy and never had the time really to talk to me. I just sat there and listened. I knew that the information that they were discussing was wrong but what business of it was mine? The interesting part about this was that they came out with something that was called “The Secret Root”. I didn’t have a clue what the Secret Root was. It turned out that it was some kind of secret and unofficial percentage that the Tax Office uses to bind all transactions together, bearing in mind of course that people have business relationships with each other and that all transactions are somehow interlinked. Back several years ago the figure of the Secret Root was 3.9 but now it was 3.1 and that made a difference to some of the calculations that had been made. I was sitting here really interested because I’d never heard of this Secret Root before. I was intent on finding out more about it because it sounded quite so interesting so I didn’t even bother to mention what it was that I’d come along here to discuss. I just sat there and listened while they were discussing this Secret Root.

One or two people who follow this blog know about my relationship with the local Tax Office in Crewe and I’d tell the rest of you about it, except that a certain law called the Obscene Publications Act is still in force. As well as that, there are certain well-enforced Laws of Libel in the UK and the site that deals with the administration of this blog has terms and conditions about its use.

So instead, let me just ask you what the Tax Office and a pelican have in common.
The answer is that that they can both shove their bills up their @rses

There was no pizza dough left in the freezer so I had to make some more. But Rosemary called me just as I was starting and I ended up being all behind. To make matters worse, I used the wrong flour so the base for the one that I baked wasn’t as good as it might have been.

It was still quite delicious though, as I found out when I came to eat it. And I’m sure that the two in the freezer will do just the same.

So doped up to the eyebrows in painkillers and falling asleep, I’m off to bed. And I’ll try to keep out of mischief while I do it. I can’t go through this again.

But final word on the subject of last night must go to my cleaner.

Having called her at some silly hour to come to my rescue, I apologised for waking her.
"Ohh, I wasn’t asleep" she said. "I was watching TV when you phoned"
"Then I hope that I didn’t make you miss anything interesting" I said.
"Don’t you worry about that" she said. "What goes on in your apartment is far more interesting than anything that I could see on TV."

Tuesday 15th March 2022 – I HAVE HAD A …

… calamity today.

During the coffee break in our Welsh lesson this morning, I set some coffee on the go in the coffee percolator while I went for a ride on the porcelain horse.

When I came back, I picked up the glass jug from the percolator – and the bottom fell out of it. The coffee went everywhere.

As I have said before … “and on many occasions too” – ed … when I moved here I bought everything new, the cheapest possible, with the idea that I would have at all as quickly as possible and as items give out one by one, I would replace them.

So it was only a question of time before the cheap €9:99 coffee percolator gave out and today it’s been replaced with a high-quality machine with a metal jug that is actually a vacuum flask. I hope that my coffee will be hot enough now instead of barely tepid.

Another disaster was last night’s (lack of) sleep. I went to bed rather later than intended and couldn’t sleep at all for absolutely ages.

Eventually I dropped off to sleep and promptly had a nightmare. and while I’ve had a few that for all kinds of reasons have failed to make these pages, this one didn’t even make the dictaphone. I couldn’t even bring myself to dictate it.

And as a result of this nightmare, I didn’t go back to sleep. Nevertheless it was a struggle for me to leave the bed.

While I was preparing for the Welsh lesson I was drifting in and out of sleep but to my surprise, not only did I manage to end up in advance of where we finished today, it actually passed quite well and was quite a successful lesson.

Unfortunately this was the last session of our second year. Next week will be the first lesson of our third year and to my dismay one of my colleagues whom I happen to quite like has decided not to renew. That’s dismayed me somewhat, to be sure.

After lunch I had a few things to do and then I went to the radiology centre for the x-ray on my knee. It didn’t take too long for the x-ray to be taken- in fact she took 6 – and the wait for the finished photos wasn’t anything like as long as it usually.

LeClerc was next for my new coffee machine and then shopping at Lidl, seeing as I don’t have much in right now. It was quite an expensive shop too, much of which was spent on coffee and brazil nuts.

When I returned home I went over to the wall at the end of the car park to see what was going on down on the beach.

With it being later than usual the tide had turned and there were one or two people down there having a wander about. I didn’t stay long watching. I grabbed my stuff and came back in here.

There was quite a fight that I had with the freezer. It’s now full to overflowing, and there’s no room whatever for anything else. But I’m going to have to make a start on emptying it. It’s only the vegetables that seem to run through various cycles. Nothing else much seems to move.

For tea tonight I worked the air fryer again to make some chips. And this time they worked really well. With baked beans and a vegan sausage it was delicious.

And then we had football. Caernarfon v Y Fflint. Caernarfon’s manager and assistant manager are down with Covid right now so it was the Academy manager on the bench and to my surprise his choice of team was certainly different. An attacking Five, something that I haven’t seen since the early ’70s.

A couple of Caernarfon’s players were fairly anonymous tonight for a change but they still had too much in the tank for Y Fflint and ran out 2-1 winners. And had Mike Hayes, their centre-forward, had had more luck with his half-chance efforts, it could have been a cricket score.

Y Fflint have gone right off the boil just recently.

Bedtime now and I need a good sleep. I have a physiotherapy session tomorrow and then in the evening I have the first of my 5 Welsh language revision sessions for my exam in the summer.

It’s all go again around here.

Wednesday 8th July 2020 – I’VE BEEN …

… back to the hospital this morning.

They called me on the phone this morning at about 09:15 to tell me that they had arranged an X-Ray and an echograph for me – at 10:55. Now just imagine that in the UK. Never mind 100 minutes – it would be more like 100 weeks.

Just as well that I was feeling on form, having had an early night last night and a decent lie-in all the way through to about 07:45.

Plenty of time to go off on my travels during the night. There was a group of us out walking last night and we walked past a couple of football grounds. There was Chelsea on one side and Manchester United on the other. I made some comment about some of the Manchester United fans chanting about Chelsea from their ground. Some Chelsea supporters heard it and thought that I was chanting about them so they decided that they were going to follow us. We walked quite a good way but they were still behind us and I wondered what was going to happen next about all of this but that was when I awoke.
At some point during the night I was in the North East of England. They were building a by-pass and I don’t know if they were using dynamite but there was dust and rocks everywhere all over the by-pass. I was asked to clean it so I had to go and loom for a brush, a nice big long-handled one with stiff bristles. In the end someone gave me one and I took it back up there and started to brush up the highway. I was talking to some people but I abruptly cut off my talk and walked away. They were wondering why I was being so rude and ignorant but what had happened was that some large combine harvester in the distance had been working in a field and suddenly burst through the hedge and was hanging over the hedge in some kind of dangerous predicament and that would have been enough to stop anyone’s conversation if they had actually seen it. I was in a different place to them which was why I had a much better view of what was happening
At some point in the evening we were all in zodiacs sailing around and we had to meet up with a coach. Our zodiacs took to the air and were flying around the coastline looking for this coach. I pointed out where the main road was and I imagined that it would be on the main road somewhere so we shot off there and flew past all of these vehicles parked in this lay-by. There were a few Shearings coaches and a few coaches from other people out on tour so we waved at everyone as we went past but we couldn’t find our coach at all. We ended up back on the ship qt one point – this might even have been before. We were due to dock and I wanted to go ashore and get a pile of stuff because we were going to be a long way out. I needed a blanket to sit on but my blanket was on the bed and there was a white sheet placed all over the bed. There were a few people around there talking. One of them was a friend of mine making her debut on a nocturnal voyage. She said that she was off – had to go to bed because she was feeling really tired. She wanted to go on this moonlight excursion at midnight. I said that we would be gone by midnight but at least you told me so I could tell the captain. There was this other girl around there and she’d remember that they would come and fetch you and had she said anything to the captain of her zodiac?
There was another interchange with some people about a theatre. Someone asked me “you know about the theatre. have you ever heard of a situation where something has been done on the stage where they have used rushes from the filming of it in order to make a film and not bother to use the actual stage in the cinema?” I said “the only time that I can ever think of that happening is when there has been a strike of scene shifters and stage hands and they had broadcast instead the rushes – the temporary shots that they take to remind them where all the scenery would be, that kind of thing. That’s the only time that I can remember that happening.

After the medication I made a start on the dictaphone but the phone call interrupted me and I had to get weaving. The pouring rain put rather a dampener on the proceedings but never mind.

There were very few people out there on the streets today, which surprised me rather, despite the rain.

There was plenty of activity though in the Grote Markt. Three saloon cars which, by the looks of the registration numbers displayed thereupon looked as if they might be vehicles belonging to the Belgian Army.

So what was all that about? It’s one of those questions where it’s not always a good idea to go and make further enquiries. Instead, I pushed on down the hill through the town.

There was one thing about the rain though. It was at least keeping all of the dust down.

That was particularly important round by the old Sint Pieters hospital where they were going qt it hammer and tongues. It looked somewhat different from how it looked yesterday evening, that’s for sure.

As I stood there watching for five minutes or so I thought that it might be a good idea to make a video of the demolition. Luckily I was armed with my mobile phone which doesn’t do too bad a job of things like this and THE RESULTING VIDEO CAME OUT RATHER WELL.

It’s a good video record of what was happening there. It looks rather like something out of Jurassic Park

All the way up the hill to the hospital I strolled in the rain.

And I was impressed by what’s going on with regard to the virus in the country that seems to have one of the greatest rates of infections in Europe with its 843 deaths per million of the population.

They really seem to be taking things quite seriously, even down to the drive-in virus testing station here.

At the hospital my appointment was for 10:55. However I was there early and by 10:55 I’d had both of my examinations and was on my way home. Imagine that in the UK!

Back here I carried on with the dictaphone notes and updated the notes for yesterday to include the details of my voyage that morning.

This afternoon I’ve been out for a good four hours. Firstly to the Bank to find out why one of my bank cards wasn’t working. According to them there is no reason why it shouldn’t be working so the girl helped me set up the banking on my phone so that I could contact the helpline.

But imagine this! Before I could go into the bank I had to put on a face mask. Could you believe it? I wonder what would have happened had I put on a mask to go into the bank 6 months ago!

Despite the rain I had a nice walk around and ended up at the Delhaize by the football ground where I bought some stuff for tea. Pasta, a falafel burger and some vegetables

Later on this evening I’m going out for a walk again. The reason for that is that I’m at 188% of my daily activity and I’m going to see if I can push it over the 200%. It’s been a good while since I’ve done that.

Over 20,000 steps already is an impressive total.

Tomorrow I have to be up at 05:30. I’ve a very early train tomorrow in order to take advantage of the cheap rail ticket that I was offered.

For a saving of €60 I’ll get up half an hour earlier.

Friday 18th October 2019 – I REALLY DON’T UNDERSTAND …

… this illness at all. I really don’t!

It has been no less than 16 weeks since my last medical check and treatment. In other words, I have missed four of the urgent treatments that I must have every four weeks to stay alive.

And so, dear reader, you would have expected me to crash in through the hospital doors like the Wreck of the Hesperus on “the reef of Norman’s Woe”.

Consequently you will be somewhat surprised, if not alarmed, to learn that my blood count this time after all of this absence has actually RISEN from 8.4 to 8.9

So just WHAT it going on?

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I expressed surprise at the dramatic collapse in blood count between the examinations in May and June, and also to the fact that when I had my blood count examined at the laboratory at Granville it gave a totally different reading to the one at the hospital.

And so, dear reader, we face three possibilities here –
1) I’m cured (presumably praying to Mecca the other day had the desired result).
2) The high emotion and turmoil through which I went and which I noted towards the end of my trip on The Good Ship Ve … errr … Ocean Endeavour at the back end of August produced enough natural adrenaline to stimulate the red blood cells all on its own without artificial aids
3) The laboratory at the hospital is hopelessly inaccurate.

Either way, it seems that a sea voyage to the High Arctic in the company of a large group of miserable, depressing people intent on spoiling everyone else’s fun and to whom I could vent my spleen (which I can’t because I no longer have one) at the top of my voice in real anger and actually mean what I say sounds like a good plan to me.

Furthermore I seem to have lost 8 kgs in weight over the four months, and I mused that if I keep that up at the current rate, then by Christmas 2022 I will have gone completely.

But the biggest surprise is yet to come.

Clearly I’m better than I ought to be at this particular point so firstly, they changed my medication. And if my Orcadian medical adviser is reading these note he can tell me all about a medication called Privigen, because that’s what I’m taking.

Secondly, they asked me loads of questions about the voyage and the state of my health while I was away, questions that I have never been asked before.

Thirdly, they brought a specialist in to see me “for a chat”

Fourthly, Kaatje, my Social Worker who is really a psychiatrist assigned to me as part of the terminal illness programme under which I’m registered, came to see me for a chat and she was asking me a pile of probing questions too, about life on board ship and the voyage in general. I told her about the nightmare that I had when I was on board ship and about the emotional roller-coaster that marked my life over that five-week period from towards the end of August to the beginning of October (after all she has to earn her money) when I was in a pit of deep depression and anger after the first nightmare and the even more wild one a week or two later, and she was busy making notes. But she left without getting to whatever point she might have wanted to see me about, had there been a point to her visit, and that set a couple of bells going off in my head.

Fifthly, I was summoned for an x-ray and an echograph of my torso, and that alarmed me too. And I’m no doctor or x-ray tech, but I do know enough about echograph images to know that I didn’t like what I saw on the screen, and I had noticed that he had taken his time and made several passes over a certain part of my torso just underneath the ribcage.

Sixthly, when I went to the reception area to enquire about my next appointment, which they always hand out regularly, they replied “we’ll send a letter to you”.

So I smell something fishy – and I’m not talking about the contents of Baldrick’s Apple Crumble either.

Another surprising thing, not relating to the hospital, or maybe it is, is that contrary to all expectations, I had an absolutely dreadful night. After two more-or-less sleepless nights and a long day yesterday, I was expecting to sleep for a week but in fact it took me ages to go off to sleep and once I did, I was wide-awake by 03:00.

No chance of going back to sleep either – I was up and working on the computer by 04:30.

At 06:00 when the alarms went off I had a shower and washed the clothes that were outstanding, and then set off for the railway station. The Carrefour was open so I grabbed some raisin buns and launched myself aboard the train for Welkenraedt that had just pulled into the station.

At Leuven I heaved myself out of the train and headed off across the city to the hospital. On the way, there were thousands of scouts and girl guides all over the place and they seemed to be having a disco in the town square outside the Town Hall.

At 08:30 in the morning?

There’s a new check-in procedure at Castle Anthrax. Apparently you have to swipe the screen with your identity card. That;s fine, except that being a foreigner I don’t have an identity card. I have to muscle my way into the queue somehow so all of this is going to end in tears sooner or later.

Eventually I was registered and sent to a chair downstairs for my treatment. A few little dozes throughout the day, but nothing violent.

When it was all done (and this new medication is quicker than the previous one) I could leave and pick up my medication for home. And this world is getting far too small for my liking, as I have said on occasions too numerous to mention. The pharmacist looked at me and asked “you’re the guy who went to the North on that ship, aren’t you?”
“Blimmin’ ‘eck”, as the much-maligned Percy Penguin would have said.

There was plenty of time for me to go for a wander, and then I met up with Alison. We went for a coffee, a vegan burger at the Green Way and then another coffee at Kloosters.

She told me about all of her health problems and I told her all about my voyage on The Good Ship Ve … errr … Ocean Endeavour, all about the miserable bunch of passengers with whom I’d been stranded, all about the petty jealousies and squabbles, the spitefulness and selfishness, the mad stampede at the induction meeting where the first in the queue wiped out the buffet for the latecomers and left an indelible stain on my memory before the voyage even started, and the turbulent events that took place on the final couple of days of that miserable voyage.

Strange as it is to say it, I did actually enjoy the trip regardless because we got to some of the places (not to all of them by any means!) that I had always wanted to see, even if the others wanted to see them for different reasons.

The mean-spiritedness of the other passengers didn’t bother me either. I worked in the tourism industry for years and I’ve seen it all before and I had some kind of vicarious pleasure watching to see just the depths into which the behaviour of some of the passengers could descend. Even when some of the vitriol was directed at me, and even more so at Strawberry Moose I found it quite amusing to see the lack of self-restraint and goodwill amongst the passengers.

Even when I mentioned on a couple of occasions to a couple of the organisers that everyone seemed to be going stir-crazy, nothing was done to break up the tension and by the final day, the organisers were as stir-crazy and irritable as the worst of the passengers and one or two of them completely lost all sense of reality by the end.

Many of the early explorers refer to “cabin fever” – where they have to spend several months of winter in confined and cramped quarters in the company of others whom they started off liking by by the time of the thaw they were poised on the brink of murdering each other. It was just like that on board the ship.

Rather reluctantly, I came to the conclusion that the voyage last year when I made so many friends and had so many memorable moments must have been the exception to the rule, and these trips this year are much more the norm.

My social media page contains many names from that trip in 2018, but on this set of voyages this year, then apart from Rosemary who is already on it, and a couple of other people who were not involved in any fracas and who are well-known to themselves, then there isn’t a single person from any part of that voyage who merits a single moment of my time.

Anyone who wants to comment on any of the foregoing, please feel free to use the “comments” facility here. The link is active for a week or so, so if you miss it, add your comments to a later active posting.

I don’t expect you to agree with me, but I do expect you to be polite.

So abandoning another good rant for the moment, I made it back to my hotel by train and here I am, rather late but ready for bed. I have an early start on Sunday so I’m having a lie-in tomorrow with no alarms. That will almost inevitably mean that I’ll be wide-awake at about 04:30.

Wednesday 27th July 2016 – WELL, I HAD …

… a pretty miserable night last night. Not as bad as some, I must admit, but I was still awake at 02:00, again at 04:00 and yet again at 06:00. And from there I dozed off into a beautiful, deep and comfortable sleep only to be awoken by the nursing staff at about 07:30. That was just so depressing

After breakfast, Doctor Hermione came to see me. The blood test that I had this morning shows that my blood count has gone down again. Not by a great deal apparently, but I really did think that I was starting to leave all of these problems behind me.

On top of that, the proteins are off again and my urine is jam-packed with them. No wonder my legs have started swelling again. It seems that they are starting to become concerned about this and they will in early course be involving the kidney department.

The infection that I have seems to be going down slowly although you wouldn’t think so given how I’m coughing and how my head is streaming.

All in all, the news is not so good and I’m becoming rather depressed by all of this. It’s not working out at all how I was hoping that it might.

To cheer myself up, I had a shower this morning. That made me feel a little (but not much) better. And then I went for my hour out of my room to the CAT scan, having been pumped up with about a litre of some kind of disgusting drink that is a “contrast” fluid to highlight what’s going on inside me for the benefit of the people interpreting the photos. They had a “Toshiba” scanner and I asked the man in charge. He told me that it was rubbish and they had only bought it on the insistence of a doctor there. If he had anything to do with anything, he would dump it and buy a Siemens – the hospital is big on Siemens stuff. We talked about the equipment of General Electric, one of my former employers, and he agreed that they were pretty good too.

One thing of note is that I explained that I didn’t speak Flemish too well. He replied “no problem” and pressed a switch on the dashboard that changed the automatic instructions to English. Could you imagine that in an British hospital – changing the default language to a foreign language to suit the patient. Britain First and the rest of its racist mates would have apoplexy, but it just goes to show how insular and narrow-minded most British people are.

So having had a nice little hour or so out, and a good chat, I came back here for lunch. And to my surprise, I managed to eat a good lunch too. Rice with string beans, spinach and leeks. First time that I’ve had a decent hot meal for well over a week.

This afternoon, I crashed out good and proper which is no surprise. What was a surprise is how hard the girl from Social Services found it to awaken me. It seems that Hermione the Doctor has been asking her about my living arrangements and so she came to interrogate me. I know that they are far from ideal but I really don’t have too many other options. I’m as dissatisfied as anyone else about them.

It’s still quite early at the moment but I don’t care. The bad night last night hasn’t done me much good at all and so I’m going to try to have an early night. I bet that I’ll drop off into a beautiful, deep sleep only to be awoken by some nurse wanting to take my temperature or something.

That’s not as bad as what happened to me when I was in hospital in 2003, where a nurse awoke me to make me take my sleeping pill.

I’m still trying to work that one out.

Monday 25th July 2016 – IT REALLY COMES TO SOMETHING …

… when you arrive at the hospital day centre and the nurse takes one look at you and says, in a horrified tone, “But Mr Hall – you look dreadful”. But that really is an understatement of just how I’m feeling at the moment.

I didn’t sleep too badly last night, I have to admit, and round about midnight I was feeling reasonably lucid which makes a change from how I was feeling when I went to bed after my pizza. I was soon back asleep again though, with one or two of the usual interruptions. I’d been on quite a few vivid voyages too, but the only one that I can remember concerns two extended-cab pickups. One was red, rather like a Ford Cortina estate but a pick-up, and the other one was a real pickup coloured a sort-of light lime green and with a black interior. Although I had arrived at this spot in the red one, I found myself spread out on the rear seats of the yellow one, half-asleep, with someone whom I didn’t recognise at all in the front.

The alarm went off at 07:15 but there was no way that I was going to leave my bed at that time of morning. In fact I went back to sleep again and awoke at 07:30 when the second one went off. I crawled upstairs to the kitchen and made myself a small breakfast as I’m still not all that hungry, and then off for a shower. If I’m going to have nurses poking and probing me, they would expect me to be clean and tidy.

For the next half hour we played “hunt the keys” for Caliburn. I didn’t find them but by this time it was far too late to do anything about it. I staggered off for the bus (remembering on the way to the bus stop that my keys are in my sac banane) and off to the hospital.

While the nurse took my blood sample I poured out my woes to her and repeated the story to the doctor. Not Hermione though – the one who replaces her when she’s not there. The Social Services girl came to see me and I told her everything too.

The doctor came back to see me a little later. The good news is that my blood count is still 10.0. It’s not gone up any for the last four weeks, but it’s also not gone down any and considering how ill I’m feeling, that’s really quite remarkable. It’s also quite remarkable that I haven’t had a blood transfusion for … ohhhh … weeks and weeks.

The bad news is that I have a raging chest infection. They packed me off for an x-ray (I’ve not had the results back yet) and then they reached a decision – that they are going to keep me in hospital for “a few days” so that they can give me some liquid food, some steroids and some medication for the infection.

So here I am, up on a ward,with a raging temperature of 39.5°C, sweating everywhere, and hopefully going to be cured – at least of this infection. But as it has been said so often, I’m at risk from all kinds of illnesses now that my my spleen has been removed, and while the lymphoma probably won’t kill me, I could be wiped out by something that I catch and won’t be able to fight off.

I hope that my room-mate here doesn’t snore. But he has enough to put up with with me coughing.

Monday 18th July 2016 – I WENT TO THE HOSPITAL …

… this morning, and just for a change, seeing as how I’m not too well, I went up on the bus. I definitely can’t be feeling up to it if I’m having to travel by bus and spend €1:40.

Just for a change I’d had the best night’s sleep that I’d had for ages. Apart from one trip down the corridor, I was out like a light until the alarm went off at 07:00, and then promptly went back to sleep until the alarm went off again at 07:15.

I’d been on my travels too. Back driving a coach tour along the North Cornwall coast. The holiday had come to an end and we were ready to go home. The advertised way was down across the county to Exeter and then up the M5, but the prettier way, even if it was a longer way, was along the coast and so I asked the passengers if they would like to go that way. Many of the passengers had been with me last year when we had gone along the coast too. They were having a discussion about that and so I decided to move the coach off to a safer spot. However I had a hell of a time getting the coach to start and when it finally did start there were clouds of white smoke everywhere and the coach wouldn’t accelerate. This was a bad start to the final day’s holiday and I was hoping that the passengers hadn’t noticed.

I had another go at having a decent breakfast ready for my long day, but I ended up leaving half of it. I’m still not up to it, I reckon. And it was scorching outside, even at 08:00. I’m glad that I had decided to take the bus.

At the check-in at the day care centre I was taken by surprise. I was sent straight to a little room instead of having to go through all of the preliminaries downstairs. That didn’t sound too good. And I had a nurse who had exactly the same accent as Goldmember. That was worrying too. She fitted me with a drain and took a blood sample. And I have to give a urine sample too and that’s taking the p155.

My weight has gone down by 3kgs, which is probably normal seeing as how little I’ve been eating just recently.

The Doctor came to see me – not Hermione unfortunately – but the other one and we had a good time discussing everything that has been going on with me just recently. She’ll know more when she has the results of the blood test later today but to her it sounds as if I have caught an infection and it will soon pass through. I hope that she’s right.

She did however send me to have my chest x-rayed. Done on the spot!

Strangely enough, in between the blood test and the visit of the doctor, I’d suddenly started to feel so much better. How is that for an irony? I managed the soup and bread for lunch, as well as a large packet of crisps that Alison had bought me and which I’d taken along for emergencies.

The perfusion was ready quite quickly and didn’t take long. By about 14:45 it was all finished. The doctor came back with a prescription for the medication that I had finished off, and told me some good news. My blood count is 10.0 – exactly the same as it was 2 weeks ago. And given all that I’ve done and all that I’ve been through this last 2 weeks, that’s quite impressive. I’m very pleased with that.

And when was the last time that I have had a blood transfusion?

She told me that I do have an infection too. She’s not too worried about it and it’s one of the things to which I’ll have to become accustomed giving the loss of my spleen, but she wants me back next week (instead of in two weeks time) to see what is happening.

She did offer me the chance to stay at the hospital. Had I been living anywhere else that I had during the last three months, I might well have taken her up on it. But I’m comparatively comfortable here so I decided to come back home. I must be feeling better.

Having paid the odd account or two, I set off home – on foot too – and ended up in town at the supermarket buying a few bits and pieces. I’ve even eaten tonight – nothing special or exotic but proper food. And three good meals too.

And not only that – it’s now 23:45 and I’m still awake and not in the least but tired despite my full, exhausting day.

Things are looking up.

Ans we’ve had more excitement in Parliament today. During the debate on the new Trident replacement, the new Prime Minister, Theresa May, attacked Green MP Caroline Lucas for speaking against the proposals, saying that Lucas was “defending the UK’s enemies”.

Now have a close look at this speech – “Naturally the common people don’t want war; neither in Russia, nor in England, nor in America, nor in Germany. That is understood. But after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.”

Did you notice the bit about “denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger” which has clearly influenced Theresa May’s speech? The speech that I quoted just now was one given by none other than Hermann Goering.

Having had the B Liar paraphrasing the Nazi speeches during his period in office, it looks now as if we’ve got yet more Nazi clones in charge in Drowning Street.

That’s a frightening thought now, isn’t it? Or were we all expecting it?

Thursday 28th April 2016 – IT LOOKS AS IF …

… we’re getting back in the old routine again, at least as far as sleeping goes. I had yet another night of tossing and turning and only intermittent sleep and that’s disappointed me.

And I was thinking too, the other day, that with having stopped the Montlucon medication, these exotic, vivid and somewhat outrageous dreams that I’ve been having just recently have stopped too. But that’s not the case, because I was off again. And a welcome “hello” to Caroline who made her debut last night, accompanying me on a visit to a huge house on the edge of town (although I’ve no idea which town) in connection with someone who has appealed against a rating assessment on the grounds that she had been assessed as the occupier of a discrete property rather than part of a joint property. And so we went round, and it’s true to say that there was a big house that was divided into flats, and she was the occupier of one of those flats. However, there was an individual house there that caught my eye, not because of the house itself, but parked outside and clearly the worse for having stood for 30 years or so, was an old white Mini. In fact, it wasn’t a Mini at all but an Austin Seven, which was what the original Minis were called when they first came on the market and its registration number (576BMR) showed it, according to my 1958 Motor Dealer handbook which I had somehow managed to bring with me on my travels during the night (it’s actually upstairs in the attic of my place in France right now) showed that it had been registered in 1957, which meant that it was actually a pre-production factory demonstrator, as rare as hen’s teeth, so you’ve no idea just how excited I was by this find and I was determined to buy it.
And as we have said once or twice, sometimes, after a trip down the corridor or whatever, I can step right back into a nocturnal ramble right where I left off at a previous moment. And sure enough, there were Caroline and I in a car spares shop, buying plugs, points, a condenser, plug leads, distributor cap and all kinds of things for the car ready to have a good go at starting it up.

For breakfast, I didn’t have any fruit juice or soya yoghurt, but I finished off the last of the soya dessert instead. And then I came back, had a good wash and packed all of my possessions ready to leave. I paid the bill for my accommodation but I couldn’t get into the shower as it seemed to be in constant use.

On the bus on the way here, I realised that I’ve forgotten all of the stuff that was in the fridge back at Sint Pieters. I’ll have to remember all of that for when they throw me out of here, and go back to pick it up.

I’m now installed in my room with a much more sociable companion than last time (I’ll tell you tomorrow whether he snores or not) and I’ve been for my x-rays. They sent a wheelchair for me but badger that for a game of soldiers – I’m not dead or dying quite yet so I insisted on walking.

Much to my dismay, I have a male nurse looking after me – no young and nubile Danish student nurse unfortunately. Things had better start looking up for me tomorrow or I’ll be insisting on a change of hospital. What’s the point of being in a hospital if you aren’t going to be surrounded by a bevy of beautiful student nurses? But Hannelore the doctor is in charge of me again so that’s one thing for which I’m grateful because she can soothe my fevered brow any time she likes, and I’ve had several visits from other members of staff already. I’m certainly not going to be lonely.

But tomorrow morning at 08:30 is D-Day. This is when I’m having my operation so I mustn’t eat or drink anything after midnight. I’m not looking forward to this one little bit and I wish that I didn’t have to go through it. Everyone is doing their best to reassure me but I’m probably going to have a panic attack or something – I can feel it coming on already.

Tuesday 1st December 2015 – YOU WON’T BELIEVE ANY OF THIS …

… but never mind. Do your best, because it really DID happen like this.

First of all, last night’s nocturnal ramble is far from complete. And for a couple of very good reasons too.But the good news is that I had the best night’s sleep that I have ever had in a hospital (despite being woken up two or three times). That, I reckon, is due to the cold poultice or whatever it was that they put on my arm just before I went to sleep. That seemed to do the trick.

So, in as far as I could remember it, I was still in hospital but I’d been allowed out to go to a theatre in Deansgate, Manchester to watch a Chris de Burgh concert with my family (what are they doing intruding into my nocturnal rambles?) and also a very new girlfriend of mine, so naturally I was pleased about this. We went into the auditorium and the first thing that I noticed was that everyone – including us – was dressed in black. But as the concert got under way, I was called back to the hospital for a blood test. Once that had been completed I made my way back to the theatre and ended up going in through the stage door and there was Chris de Burgh, not actually performing, but using a record player to play his records to the audience. He asked me what I was doing there and so I explained that I’d been called away. He apologised that I’d missed half his concert and gave me a free ticket for another one (I noticed that I didn’t ask for two – one for my girlfriend) and so I went into the auditorium and … it was deserted. everyone had gone. I dashed outside and started to scour the streets around Deansgate and Whitworth Street for my friends and this girl but I couldn’t find them at all.

From here we went on, via various removes which I have now forgotten unfortunately what with all of the interruptions and so on, to Stoke on Trent and a housing estate built of 1960s bungalows rather like the top half of Coleridge Way in Crewe. In one of these bungalows lived someone whom I once knew, his wife and his daughter, Zero (who occasionally accompanies me on my nocturnal rambles). The bungalow where we were rather resembled the ground floor of my house in Gainsborough Road, but to get into the sitting room (where the aforementioned were gathered) meant passing under a rather low brick wall, which necessitated crawling, but each time I went to do so I was interrupted by someone who wanted something doing. So by the time I had done that and went back, I was convinced that the arch had become smaller. But before I could pass under the arch it was the turn of someone else to interrupt me with a request. And so it went on, and on, and on, but eventually everyone had been satisfied. So I went to the arch to crawl under into the sitting room, to find that it was now far too small for me to pass under, and I was stranded.

It’s a shame that I’ve forgotten everything else that happened, for I really was riveted to my bed by all of this that was going on, despite all the interruptions. But then someone awoke me quite insistently to say that the Day Ward was to open in half an hour and I needed to leave. And so I said OK and went back to sleep. 15 minutes later they woke me again and I really did have to go. And with that, most of the details of my nocturnal ramble left too.

Back in my real room, I was on my own. I don’t know what had happened to my room-mate of yesterday and I didn’t think it politic to ask. But it was round about here that all of the fun began.

First visit of the morning was the dietician. We had an extremely lengthy chat about my diet yet again, when I set out quite clearly exactly what my dietary requirements were

And the result? For dessert at lunchtime I was served a “Lactel” crème caramel “containing fresh eggs”.

I can see quite clearly that I’m wasting my time here.

But what surprised me even more about the dietician is that she knew nothing whatever about vegans and potential vitamin B12 deficiency and potential iron deficiency. What kind of dietician is this?

Next stop was the echography, where they examined my arm with an ultrasound scan. And not that I know all that much about echographs, but even I could see some kind of foreign body showing up in the scan. It might be a blood clot, or it might be a foreign object, and so I’m destined to have an X-ray all about it.

And so off to the X-ray department where we have one of these 20-somethings in charge. I went to take off my dressing gown but she replied “we can photograph through that, you know”.
I explained that the doctor had drawn on my arm the area of interest, to which her response was “I’ve been doing this job for longer than just yesterday”, and so I left her to it.

When she’d finished (11:50, this was) she wheeled me outside, presumably to wait for a porter to take me back to my ward, and she put on her coat and went off for lunch.

By 12:50, no porter had appeared and I was still sitting in this draughty corridor and I’d had enough. Spoiling for a fight with someone and in a totally foul mood, I set off on foot to find my way back to my ward. It wasn’t easy because the hospital here at Montlucon is quite a labyrinth, but it didn’t really take me too much time and the walk, and the change of scenery, did me good.

Back here, I sent out for my food – seeing as I was an hour late for my lunch – but before I could receive it, the doctor stuck his head around the door “you have to go back to be X-rayed- they’ve X-rayed the wrong place”. So much for our self-confident 20-something, hey?

Back in the basement, I had to wait 20 minutes before I could be seen, but as soon as our 20-something came out and saw me in fighting form, she cleared off and someone else came to X-ray me. Once this had been done, I didn’t even bother waiting. I walked straight back to my ward, and finally had my lunch (with “Lactel” crème caramel “with fresh eggs” as part of a vegan diet).

Liz came round later with a supply of snapping for me to keep in store. Biscuits, crisps, fruit juice, and a big bag of grapes. This is how to be organised for a hospital when the dietician doesn’t seem to have a clue what is involved in a vegan diet. And we did a trade too. I swapped my “Lactel” crème caramel “with fresh eggs” for Liz’s banana.

And the librarian came round with a trolley-load of books from which I could choose. And I joked to Liz that both previous times when the librarian had been round with books and I’d chosen some, I’d moved rooms straight away afterwards.

And so after Liz left, they came round to tell me that I was moving across the corridor. You would have bet your mortgage on this. But at least I’m in a single room again, nice, clean and modern.

Here I seem to have settled in quite nicely and if I have to stay anywhere, this will do me fine. But 5 changes of room in 24 hours must be something of a record in any kind of residential establishment. You couldn’t make that up.

And you couldn’t make up anything else that had happened to me during the course of the day either. It’s astonishing as far as I’m concerned.

But anyway, as the night drew on, I settled down to watch Bulldog Drummond in Africa and managed to see it right through to the end for once. I had another one of these cold poultices and then tried to settle down to sleep but for some reason I found it difficult to drop off.

EPIC HALL

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

Tag Archives: x-ray

Monday 5th January 2025 – WHAT A NIGHT …

Wednesday 27th August 2025 – AND ONCE AGAIN …

Tuesday 29th July 2025 – I STILL HAVEN’T …

Monday 16th December 2024 – JUST FOR A CHANGE …

Wednesday 24th April 2024 – THAT WAS AN …

Sunday 14th January 2024 – GUESS WHO…

Tuesday 15th March 2022 – I HAVE HAD A …

Wednesday 8th July 2020 – I’VE BEEN …

Friday 18th October 2019 – I REALLY DON’T UNDERSTAND …

Wednesday 27th July 2016 – WELL, I HAD …

Monday 25th July 2016 – IT REALLY COMES TO SOMETHING …

Monday 18th July 2016 – I WENT TO THE HOSPITAL …

Thursday 28th April 2016 – IT LOOKS AS IF …

Tuesday 1st December 2015 – YOU WON’T BELIEVE ANY OF THIS …

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