Inchy alighted the tram at the wrong stop, and set off on his walk that he enjoyed so much, despite the crippled feet, knees and hip he accrued during it! Tsk!
The fool walked over the field, through Wilk’s car park over the road and nearly got himself clobbered be these three burks of Pavement Cyclists!
Took a photo of the old halfpenny bridge – given that name cause then it cost a halfpenny to walk over it – now it carries the new tram to Clifton.
He bumped into these to reprobates of fishermen: It turned out they were two lads he worked with 30 years ago at Scan Security, and boy did he enjoy hissen getting all their news and having a natter for over an hour with them. Unfortunately he can’t remember their names, but did recall the things they got up to together in the days of yore working at Pork Farms and York sites… two of the best blokes one could have as partners in Security.
He forced himself to leave the lads and moved on down the river, started to feed the geese but stopped when he remembered there is a £60 instant fine if anyone gets caught feeding them!
Inchy pressed on only to be confronted by two more Pavement Cycling idiots!
For no particular reason the twit took a photograph of his legs in the dead leaves when he came to cross over the road. He’s losing it again I think?
Sentimentality overcame him when in the distance he saw his old school had just one of the three buildings left – two had been replaced by apartments it looked like.
He walked on over the fields and into the ‘Rock (Memorial) Gardens’ where as a young ankle-snapper, he and his schoolmates were barred from for various reasons…
As he walked through the now dilapidated gardens to the one-time fish pond he was mightily impressed with the colouration of the trees there.
Queen Victoria’s statue was in a right state despite the Council trying to keep off the yobs and vandals by erecting a fence to protect her. Tsk!
The view of the main gates from inside reminded him of the shelters, now cleaned up somewhat, where he used to meet the gals for a fag and a bit of slap and tickle – ah, that’s the reason they were barred from the gardens!
He called at the WC to find it all locked up and cobwebbed Tsk! As he mounted the steps to the main gates intent on getting a photo from the other side, he became curious of a man and woman’s activities in the pond. The man had torn off a branch from a tree and was using it to fish something out of the water, so he took some photo’s of them. The woman went over to the man and as he pulled out a child’s scooter from the water he shook his fist and shouted something at Inchy that Inchcock couldn’t hear of course. Inchcock beat a hasty retreat from the gardens, forgetting to take his photo of the main gates. Of course it was not fear or anything like that, that made him hobble-hastily away – it was because he didn’t want to lose his temper with the grown up vandal/yob and hurt him.
Inchcock took a photo of Trent Bridge as he approached it, just before he did his Whoopsiedangleplop on some leaves down onto his bottom! Luckily no one was about to enjoy it or laugh!.
Down Arkwright Street as was, and into and through the Meadow area.
Inchy nearly had an altercation with yet another Pavement Cyclist, but managed to get a partial shot of the Memorial gates in the background.
The play area with the kids using F, C & B words as they played happily, probably they were just trading drugs as they were spitting at each other.
As he left the Meadows area he spotted the Brookfield Court old peoples complex. He used to live on Brookfield Place in the Meadows where this got its name from presumably, but that was 60 odd years ago… blimey, it was too!
Up towards the train station and yet another Pavement cyclist belted passed him from behind! These Swines were prolific today. Humph!
Just passed the station, he called into Tesco and amazingly another pack of strawberry jam fresh cream cakes jumped into his basket?
He crosed the Nottingham canal and threw some food in for the ducks, but when the wino’s emerged from under the bridge he moved on cause it wasn’t the usual couple of them, but at least seven of em looking up at him! Shame, cause the photo looks nice and serene dunnit?
Onward into town and the fool fed the pigeons risking a fine – the Wally!
As he came out of the shopping centre he’s walked through the crowds were getting thicker…
Up into the slab square, where the great Nottingham shoplifters.. er public, continued to show their disregard for safety, even one woman just walking in front of a tram with her kid in the pram!/!?
The a-fresco café’s were doing their usual roaring trade…
As he got towards his bus-stop, he took a shot of the Watson Fotheringill designed frontage that he admires so. A lot of his stuff has been demolished by the crude and blatantly uncouth Nottingham City Council
Catching his L9 bus meant the end of his marathon poddle about.
But he met the lady tenant of his flats on the bus…
The one he has a hankering for… oh yes!
That made him forget about his aches and pains for a bit!
Up at 0420hrs – Once and yet again straight t’porcelain!
I wrote down some bits of the dreams I could recall for once, not remembered any for ages now. Yesterday after losing the memories while on the porcelain seconds after remembering them induced me to leave paper and pen in the bathroom. (Clever that!)
I think I was heaven, or at least queuing at the gates: A long long line of us former mortals awaiting to be accepted, or not as the case may be. All Nationalities seemed to be there, somehow I knew many of them had died horribly in battle etc but they all seemed to have their limbs and body parts attached? Don’t know why, but this fascinated me somewhat as I recall?
A chap wearing a robe approached as he walked down he line carrying what looked like mobile phone. He came straight to me and said something like “Ah, you is it, we’ve been waiting for you for a long time – take this recorder and get the name of each of the first 1000 deceased morons then bring it to me in the brothel… He looked like John Cleese.
This part of the dream remained with me and seemed very clear to me. The rest just bits – Going down the line and all the people spoke in English and told me how they had died… can’t remember going to the brothel with the results as I seemed to have been transported to another dream.
I was living inside a blue-bottle body (Earlier in the week I did a funny graphic of this scenario, suppose this must be linked?) trying to tell someone about this and getting squatted dead by everyone I landed on to call down their ear-hole and beg for help?
Then I was flying around diving down to people to ask for their forgiveness for things I’d done in the past – the people were from my own past, I remember several schoolteachers, a policeman and girlfriends. there were I’m sure many many more and this dream seemed to go on and on and on?
Little Inchy for once was not bleeding profusely, just leaking a tad.
Coughing and sneezing a bit, with aching knees and feet (How they could be aching when I’d only been up for 20 minutes after 4 hours kipping in the chair where I fell asleep, I didn’t understand) into the kitchen kettle on and medications taken.
I realised as I pondered on but decided against having a pot of porridge, that I was singing to myself again, and it took a while to rid me mind of Elvis’s “Who wants to buy a heart”.
Laptop on, still singing “Who wants to buy a heart” – (Oh no… it was called “One broken heart for sale, wasn’t it?) to myself and decided to bus it to town later, and catch the new tram to the Queens Medical Centre for me Warfarin INR blood level test. This made me check to make sure me wonderful much appreciated Pensioners Free Bus-pass was in me pocket ready. Thankfully we use these on both the buses and trams.
Finished yesterdays diary off and then did some graphicalisationing then Facebooking.
Did two for the TFZ gals:
One of Lyzzi with her beloved shoe shopping.
And one of Nancy being alluring and teasing with a chap of unknown origin!
Got a bath shave and change of togs readied the things for me outing to the hospital.
Bus-pass, INR Warfarin blood level record card, nibbles for the nurses, and took camera, mobile and bird seed with me. Couldn’t find me spare pair of long distance glasses?
Down and had a natter with some residents as I waited for the bus to arrive.
Got into town (despite falling asleep on the bus) and plodded into slab square to catch the tram.
The sky was bright little clouds, an unwarm Autumn sun coming through.
Noticed on the top of the large Debenhams building on the roof of it that is, was where the pigeons had gathered for a conference. (Hehe).
Swiped me bus-pass on the machine and got on the tram and was off.
I was going to do me crosswords but couldn’t find me pen – Huh!
Thus started the Whoopsiedangleplops!
Dozed a bit for a few seconds here and there like and then it dawned on me… I was on the wrong tram going the opposite way to the Queens Medical Centre! What a plonka!
Down by the riverside at Wilford Bridge
Got off at Wilford and crossed the line, waited and got on the tram going the other way to go back to town to catch the tram I should have caught! Ticket Inspectors got on – and put me off at Wilford Bridge cause I’d forgot to swipe me card on the platform due to me Whoopsiedangleplop of getting in the wrong tram confusing me.
I took a walk by the river. Took photographs it and the statue of Sr Robert Jukes Clifton, Member of Parliament for Nottingham from 1861 to 1866, then again from 1868 until his premature death the following year.
The stonework stained and chipped, his nose vandalised, covered in bird pooh, I had to look up who up who he was when I got home.
Plodded back to the tram platform and made sure I wiped me card this time.
Trammed it back into Nottingham.
Not many folk on the tram this third time I’d been on one up to now today. Tsk!
Took a photo on the tram to show how empty it was. Noticed after I’d put the photo it in this diary later, how remarkably the chap sat in front of me, looked like me? Apart from his having hair on his head like.
Dropped off in town and crossed over to catch the correct tram this time to Toton, swiped me card on the platform.
Got off at the QMC, and went to find out how to get to the Haematology department from the tram stop. There were two volunteer ‘Helpers’ who came to assist me. They asked if they could help, I told them where I needed to get to. The lady suggested I walk down the three flights of steps to the ground level and catch a bus around to the front of the building? Then the bloke said walk down to the ground floor, (He pointed down to a door in the distant building) and go through that door, lift on your left, go to floor B and follow the signs for the Main Entrance and you’ll get to the blood room.
I struggled down the stairs, up the path into the door as indicated, then spent several minutes looking for the lift on my left? No luck. So I took the stairs to what I thought was B floor and ended up walking through… well I’ve no idea really… There were no nurses doctors or patients, just machinery part dismantled and folk walking about, I think maybe I was in a training section or something like that? Being a bloke I didn’t ask for direction just plodded on hoping to find me bearings again…
No one asked me who I was or what I was there for, much of the equipment looked technical and expensive.
Eventually I saw a sign for ‘To the Main Entrance’ and followed further ones, down the stairs, through more training rooms – students were being given lessons in what looked like a laboratory and I just walked through without being challenged?
Found a familiar corridor I’d used before, and hobbled on me way through many corridors to the blood-room.
If I had caught the bus in the first place I reckon I could have saved three hours off me journey time. I had to laugh to missen, Tsk!
Took me ticket, got a free Metro newspaper and had a read while I waited for me number to be called. Had me blood test done and out of the front to catch a bus back to town.
I think I’ll give catching the tram to the QMC a miss next time! Huh!
Back in town, I realised by getting myself in a pickle with the trams and then lost in the QMC buildings I’d missed me clinic appointment! Oh dear… must email them, grovel and explain why – might send them this diary eh? Hehe!
I had over 45 minutes to wait for the next L9 bus back to the flats, so foolishly I went into Primark and had a look at their jumpers and cardigans on sale… ended up spending again!
Made me way from the store to the bus-stop, a few minutes walk, and during that time encountered eight pavement cyclists.
When I got to the bus-stop I met Norman, a fellow Woodthorpe Court inmate… I mean resident dweling on the same floor as wot I do. I love listening to Norman, a bit like me, he forgets he’s already told you a tale and goes through it again – but I don’t mind at all and love hearing his tales from his past.
Got in said cheerio to Norman and got to the porcelain with seconds to spare! Painful session.
Made a cuppa and laptop on to update this diary, but felt so tired after me day of Whoopsiedangleplops I just did some Facebooking then got me nosh made and digested.
Another good one this was, rated it a worthy 9.3/10
Used the last of me Sweet potato wedges to have with a can of the nice chilli con carne, followed by a banana and lemon curd yoghurt with soured cream.
After that I added some more Sweet potatoes to me Morrison order for tomorrow.
Then fatigued I flaked out.
Woke up with the TV still going (Can’t remember putting on?) at 0125hrs.