Up at 0530hrs. More nightmares but I can’t remember them.
No blood from anywhere, that’s a positive.
Made cuppa and took medications.
Laptop on (Very slow this morning… me and the laptop Hehe)
Checked emails etc.
My sister Jane mentioned on the phone last night, that they, who live in the County do not get in free to visit Nottingham Castle, here as I, who lives (Using the term in its loosest meaning) in the City, get in free using my bus pass. She seemed rather irked with this. But her mentioning it, decided me to pay a visit to the Castle, especially as it is free for me.
I got missen prettied up and set off on the good walk to visit Nottingham Castle.
I managed to avoid the skateboarders and cyclist Although there was a couple of close shaves), and got into town, and bought a sandwich and bottle of orange to consume on me hobble around the castle grounds.
I got there, went in – and they charged me £4 entrance. (Flipping sisters eh?)
The feet were stinging and the knees aching by then.
I took many photo’s, until the camera batteries died a death. Went into the Nottingham military museum.
I intend to create a post about the visit, perhaps calling in Inchcock’s Visit to Nottingham Castle, or some other creatively thought up title.
I hobbled into town and caught the bus back to the hoppit.
Put me things away and made a cuppa. Then udated this tosh.
I called in at an East London car mechanic, who insisted on calling himself himself a Vehicle Technician the other day, to see if my car was ready yet to be picked up, as I had to go to Amsterdam that afternoon.
The chappie explained to me that many problems had been found that he had not anticipated, and produced a list of which he read out to me.
I thought that £900 was a little on the high side, the car can only be worth£290 tops – nor do I recall the front nearside wheel hanging off when I took it in to have a new drivers side wing mirror fitted. As for the damage to the bonnet? But it was a long time ago when I took it in, over six weeks ago and my mind might have been confused a tad. But the wing mirror had still not yet been fitted.
He spat on the floor and with a kindly smile then offered to hire me a company car at a reduced rate that I could use for my business trip to Netherlands.
He pointed out that it was a classic, and would be ideal as it was an estate model, for my transporting my stuff to see the client. And that it was named Gertrude, after Gertrude Elderley the 1924 swimming Olympian who became the first woman to conquer the English Channel two years later. He added that she will be going over the channel herself now, and that was a heart-warming thought as he stifled a tear (or laugh?) and it seemed this brought a smile to his face for some reason.
Anyway, I took the Morris Minor Estate home, but it broke down within two hundred yards.
I walked back to the garage and found the chap stood reading Forbes magazine in the workshop, although using the term work was not strictly applicable.
He cursed under his breath, gave me look that would have done Hannibal proud, and followed me out to the car. He had a look and said threateningly: “Burk! You ain’t put no petrol in it have yer?” Then he wandered off back to his garage… well I say garage…
So I walked to the nearest petrol station, bought a can and some petrol, returned and put it in the car. This was going to be an expensive trip I thought.
I drove to me shed, and loaded the gear I needed easily enough into the back of the Morris Minor. It didn’t take too much effort for me to eventually get the rusty back doors to close, just time, cut fingers and plastic ties.
Trying to sell Gas lamp light wick trimming gear is not easy you know.
The trip went okay, and the car drew much attention, mostly from the Dutch traffic police.
When night came, I left the Hotel Pooier and went for a walk around the city. I came across one of the many brothels, that was to be expected, but guess what I saw – a lucky chappie inside cleaning the windows. I wonder ho they paid him?
I got a bloke to take a picture of this like… what can I make of it?
I waved at him, but he hid behind the curtains.
Any when I got home, I took Gertrude back to the garage mechanic… sorry Vehicle technician, but the road was blocked off by police vehicles and armed response officers. I noted there were Counter Terrorist units, Police helicopters circling above, a Royalty Protection unit, Drug squad vans, Police dog units, Bailiffs, Reclaim Sheriff’s and a head-librarian in attendance.
Up at 0500hrs, and blimey I can remember a dream! (Well some of it anyway)
Me Dream: I was young fit and working at the Co-op store on Parliament Street in Nottingham, and I think I was clearing all the stuff off the shelves into customer trolleys… there was someone there with me who I recognised but have forgotten who now, then I was on Carlton Hill, pushing the loaded trolley to wherever it was to go, and a girl I used to work with in 1962, Rita appeared on the pavement and started talking to me. I became engrossed in conversation with her, and the trolley ran away down the hill.
Suddenly the hill became somewhere else, but I knew it, and chased after the trolley. As I ran on, doors kept opening in both sides of the road and people were calling to me…
A doctor with a beard, turban and a scalpel in his hands: “Come back, we need to operate again…”
My old boss at Scan security Kevin, with ‘Ross’ one of guard dogs we used: “Ross’s here mate, come in and see him, did you bring any pigs ears for him? He still loves em yer know…”
Brian, the accountant who ripped me off and put me into bankruptcy when I had the shop: “Sorry, it was nothing personal, come in and I’ll make you a cup of tea…”
The Grim Reaper appeared on a rooftop: “Oi… I’m waiting, get yer arse up ‘ere youth…”
Henry Cooper: “Splash it all over…”
Acker Bilk came out of a door, singing “Buona Sera Seniorita”?
There were many others, but I can’t recall them.
I lost site of the trolley as it disappeared into an unrecognised building. I caught up and started searching for it, to find Susan Maughan (Off the song Bobby’s Girl fame, and she married theatre director Nick Leigh, and not me!) emptying the goods from it onto some shelves, she sneered at me “Who the devil are you? Sod off!”
I was amazed that I could remember so much of the dream, very rare that. But, what did it mean? Nowt I suppose, apart form the I’m cracking up?
Started laptop, made cuppa. Took medications.
Started work on some graphics for me later posts, just hoping that BT internet does not start playing up again.