Meanwhile, back at the ran … errr … apartment, I really was ill late night after the dialysis. And to prove that I can do it when I really try, I had finished all of my notes, taken the stats and done the back-up and was in bed by 22:50. And by 22:51 I was fast asleep.<\/p>\n
Apart from one awakening, before midnight according to a timestamp on the dictaphone, I didn’t move until about 06:50 either. That was what I really call a good sleep. I must have needed it.<\/p>\n
While I was debating whether or not to pull my head from out underneath the covers, BILLY COTTON<\/a> beat me to it and I fell out of bed.<\/p>\n In the bathroom I had a good wash and scrub up, then into the kitchen for the medication.<\/p>\n Back in here I sent a message to my faithful cleaner about my shopping and my new compression socks, and then I transcribed the dictaphone notes. The first thing that happened was that a girl from school appeared in my dreams last night when I was asleep quite early. I was on the point of inviting her out for a date when suddenly I awoke up and she completely disappeared and took off, taking everything with her.<\/p>\n The first question that went through my mind when I transcribed this was “who the heck was she?”. I wish that I had recorded who she was. That would have been nice to know. All these girls turning up in my dreams and I’m not aware of them. However, awakening just as things are about to become interesting – there goes my subconscious again, keeping me out of mischief. If I am going to be diverted from my evil designs, I’d rather it was me than any member of my family coming along, something that usually happens.<\/p>\n Later on I was out on one of the French islands near the Equator checking vehicle registration numbers. They seemed to be arranged in groups of – two numbers – a number and a letter – two numbers … "numbers like 11-2A-33" – ed<\/em> … and the plates were yellow with black writing rather like the current French rear number plates.<\/p>\n Why registration numbers of cars on a French island should interest me, I really have no idea. The only French island that appeals to me is St Pierre et Miquelon, the French DOM TOM<\/em> off the coast of Newfoundland. I’ve told you before … "and on many occasion too" – ed<\/em> … about the exciting event that happened while I was sailing past there in 2017 across the Gulf of St Lawrence.<\/p>\n And then my Greek friend came round and told me that she was going off on a holiday somewhere. After a little discussion it turned out that she was going on a week’s retreat somewhere in a monastery, a nunnery or something. We had something of a chat. I noticed that she was feeling particularly depressed. After a while we said goodbye to each other and she wandered away. A short while later another girl whom I quite liked came round – the sister of a friend of mine at school. We’d had a little something of an association at one time. She had this sheep that she was keeping in her apartment so we went to look at it. We ended up having to chase it around the apartment and catch it, and had a really good time. We arranged to meet at another moment so I went home. In the meantime, a third friend of mine, who lodged with me for a year once at Expo, was in her little apartment, a tiny place with just a bed and a toilet in it. I went round there and she had a friend with her so there were three of us. She asked “have you seen your Greek friend recently?”. I replied “yes, I saw her earlier”. She replied “well, do you know that she’s gone off?”. I replied “yes, I know. I was talking to her just before she left. She was telling me all of her plans”. This quite surprised my friend in that apartment. She didn’t realise that I’d been talking to her. She thought that she was the only person concerned in this story. She asked “do you know that she has a son?”. I replied “I’m sure that she hasn’t. After all, I’ve worked with her for years”. “Well, she’s talking about going to Paris” to which I replied that it didn’t surprise me because she occasionally had whims like that. She asked me what else I’d been up to. I replied that I’d been herding sheep and began to recount this story with my friend’s sister and hunting sheep around her apartment<\/p>\n My Greek friend was an interesting girl. When I went to work in Brussels the job that I was to take wasn’t ready for me so I worked in the document preparation department where I learned all about desktop publishing, printing layouts and so on. There were about twenty of us who started at about that time and we formed a little group to go ice-skating, the cinema, that kind of thing. Gradually, two by two, everyone paired off and I used to go around with my Greek friend. She blew very hot when she thought that I wasn’t interested but whenever I showed more than a passing interest in her, she cooled off dramatically. I reckon that she was frightened and I don’t blame her. After all, which member of the opposite sex would ever feel comfortable with me around?<\/p>\n The sister of my friend is an easy one to guess. She was much younger than us at school but even so we all knew that she was going to be a beautiful girl. Quite a few years later I was running parcels to Belfast – the only volunteer with a British-registered van to take freight to Belfast in the 1970s but I needed the money – and apart from stopping to watch Stranraer and being arrested at gunpoint by an Army patrol (those two events were not connected), on one occasion I stopped at Galgate just outside Lancaster for some fish and chips and a pint. And who should be serving behind the bar in the pub? She was a student at Lancaster earning some pocket money. Consequently every time that there was a parcel to go north I was always the first to volunteer. <\/p>\n When it came to Easter she had no means of going home so I went and picked her up. We saw each other a few times and then one night I invited her home. Tuppence, my old, anti-social black cat came and jumped on her lap, something that took me totally by surprise as it wasn’t like her at all, and I thought "ahhh – even the cat likes her"<\/em>.<\/strong>. On the way home I told her that I’d like to continue to see her even when she goes back to University and she replied "yes – but you’ll have to get rid of that cat! I hate cats!"<\/em><\/strong>.<\/p>\n It goes without saying that I kept the cat. She was definitely the Lady of the House and she drove more than just that one girl away. She stood no chance with Nerina though. Nerina loved cats and as soon as she saw Tuppence it was "ohh, a cat!"<\/em><\/strong> and she had Tuppence in her arms before the cat had had time to think. Tuppence was the first of our rather large adopted family of felines. I often wonder if Nerina still has cats<\/p>\n There was also something else about being in the Army last night. One of the depots was closing down and they were selling a whole pile of things. I was interested in their lorry but they told me that they wanted \u00a3200 for it or something like that and I was unwilling to pay it because I couldn’t afford it. They talked about what vehicles I had and discussed a part-exchange but it wasn’t really practical. Then the discussion turned to motorcycles. They had a Kawasaki. I said “Kawasakis haven’t been imported into the UK yet. You can’t have a Kawasaki”. They replied “oh yes we have, a 1985 model”. That totally surprised me because I thought that we were in the 1950s. When I enquired the guy told me “well, it is 1987 you know”. I thought “well, I thought that it was 1957. We’d just been watching a film on the television in black and white and it was only made a short while ago”. I was expecting that we were in the 1950s but this officer insisted that it was 1987 and they had a 1985 Kawasaki. I didn’t understand what was going on at all.<\/p>\n … "”I didn’t understand what was going on at all” – nothing at all new there" – ed<\/em> … But it really was a strange dream – being in 1987 but thinking that it was still 1957, not that I remember all that much about the latter year. Even more interestingly, if I really did believe that it was 1987, how did I even know about Kawasaki motorcycles, let alone that they hadn’t been imported into the UK “yet”?<\/p>\n Isabelle the Nurse came by to sort me out and she brought me the necessary prescription for my compression socks.<\/p>\n
