Monday 19th October 2015
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.
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!
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.
The sky was bright little clouds, an unwarm Autumn sun coming through.
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!
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.
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!
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.
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.
What a day!