\n" I dillied and dallied, dallied and I dillied
\n Lost me way and don’t know where to roam.
\n And you can’t trust a Special like the old time Coppers.
\n When you can’t find your way ‘ome"<\/em><\/strong>
\nConsequently, by the time that I’d finished everything it was long after 23:00, and then I had the radio notes to dictate.<\/p>\n
Whatever went wrong there, I really don’t know. It was almost as if I’d lost the ability to read because I was making mistake after mistake after mistake. And while the finished article didn’t end up being the longest that I’ve ever dictated, it wasn’t all that far off.<\/p>\n
There will be a lot of editing to do with that tomorrow.<\/p>\n
Once I was finally in bed, I was soon asleep, and there I lay without moving until 06:56 when I fell out of bed in surprise.<\/p>\n
In the bathroom I sorted myself out and then went for the medication. Back in here, I had a listen to the dictaphone but;, to my disappointment, there was another night when there was nothing on it. It must have been one of the longest, deepest sleeps that I’ve had for quite some considerable time.<\/p>\n
Anyway, that was what I wrote at the time. The following day, no-one was more surprised than me to see that there actually was something on there from this particular night. I had absolutely no recollection of this at all. It was back in the Middle Ages and I was something to do with whatever went on in the Courts. However, one afternoon during some kind of challenge a group of people and I began to sing “Carry On” by Steven Stills. It went down so well that we decided that we’d stay together and keep going. We had to teach the audience quite a lot about the stage behaviour – they mustn’t climb on the stage, they mustn’t handle the artists etc, but generally speaking, they were quite benign with their attention and applause, and I don’t think that anyone was in any danger of hurting or being hurt while the festival was proceeding.<\/p>\n
No-one was more impressed than me by the fact that in a dream, of which I had no recollection at all, I could remember that it was Steven Stills who wrote “Carry On”. Incidentally, it was a casual occasion of three people spontaneously singing in harmony at a birthday party that led to the creation of Crosby, Stills and Nash.<\/p>\n
But as for the dream itself, this must be relating to all of the stuff about Woodstock that I’ve been doing recently where, amongst the 500,000 attendees, there was not one single case of interpersonal violence recorded by the medical team and the only incident of any note in that respect was when Pete Townshend of The Who threw protester Abbie Hoffman off the stage.<\/p>\n
When the nurse came round, we had the usual banal chat about pizzas that we have every Sunday – I could write down the script in my sleep these days and I wish that he’d find another subject to discuss, or, at least, say something different about it.<\/p>\n
