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Saturday 5th March 2016

I stirred around 0500hrs, after a night of more waking than sleeping and reflected on the disturbing dreams I had earlier.

I read somewhere that: Humans are constantly making evaluations about the direction of movement in time of systems perceived as relevant, concerning whether things are moving to the better or, the worse.

Whoever wrote this was dead right in my case this morning! I felt rotten, pessimistic, miserable and an overwhelming feeling that something so disastrous was going to take place, it would destroy my hopes and incapacitate my mind? Wicked emotions.

I glanced down at the mini Otterman at the side of my 1959 imitation leather armchair.

The items on it made me think of how life is nowadays for Nottingham’s Puerile Pensioner.

A book about WW2 memories of a sniper, and a Bygones newspaper, all stuff from the past. Which is where I belong I suppose.

Anne Gyna and Roger Reflux Valve have never given me so much of a bashing at the same time before. This means I cannot do any cleaning in the flat, and that really annoys me and gets me down. How long before they give me a break? No sleep as such for a couple of nights now. I didn’t go out yesterday and feel ashamed of my lack of enthusiasm for anything. Still, I did get an idea for a funny post when I was on the throne earlier this morning. That actually cheered me up for a few minutes, and then I went into the kitchen and saw the state of it and the need for cleaning, and felt down again. I must not give up, though, and try to do what I can later, else it will get too much to do when I do feel better?

That’s all my grumbling and griping done now, sorry about that.

Made a cuppa and took the medications. Laptop on and finished Fridays dairy off.

Made another cuppa and took an extra 30g Codeine phosphate.

Started and finally finished the Lavatory post. It might get some laughs, I hope, cause it’s all true!

Had a jolly good bath and spit and polished up myself.

Off out, and met Norman at the lift, Norman is the other 93-year-old who I went to Sainsburys with the other week. We had a good natter and caught the L8 bus into Sherwood, where Norman caught a bus to Arnold, and I crossed the road and got on one into town. A grand chap is Norman.

When I got into town, I dropped off the bus at Victoria Centre.The new

The new American Diner was not doing very well trade-wise, lots of empty chairs and tables outside. Mind you, the Big Issue seller woman would have driven any customers away with the poor thing repeating “Big Issue, Big Issue, please!” in her accent that made it sound like “Big Tissue Tease!” I felt a bit sorry for her and slipped her a quid as I passed by into the Mall.

I limped up the escalators to the top floor and made my way to the hardware stall, and took this photographicalisation of some layabout shoplifters having a rest in the ‘S’ seats.

I proceeded in an Easterly direction and arrived at the Market and commenced to have a wander around the stalls.

I got three bars of their Carbolic soap at 50p (72cents) each.

Then as I making my way to the other end of the Mall, approaching the escalator to go down a floor, the damned back started to stab at me and the Anne Gyna joined in – Humph and Tsk!

As I got near to Tesco, I called in the HMV shop – a terrible mistake and I knew it at the time that my bank balance was going to get a battering! I dare not say how much I spent, but I only went in to see if had any Hetty Wainthrope DVD’s in, but they didn’t; Unfortunately for me they did have a full James Bond compilation and a Jonathan Creek episode I’d not seen before, and … Oh, shame on me, spending again!

I limped painfully to Tesco and spent, even more, Lamb Hotpots, Seaweed snacks, Potato Cakes, Bread thins and even had to buy a bag to carry them home in.

Getting very weary now, and the bothersome pains were not getting any better.some 

I walked through Trinity Square and took a photo to post on Facebook, of some Bling for the TFZ lads, and one of the pigeons I slipped clandestinely some seed to.

Hobbled and struggled to the bus stop, and caught one back to Winchester Street.

I took a photograph through the bus windows of the Nottinghomians milling about. 

The reflection from the glass made it look a little odd I thought. 

We were soon on the hill where I dropped off and managed to cross the road without any undue hiatus this time.

At least, my spirits had risen a little as I made it back safely to the flats and visited the lavatory!

Made a cup of tea and put the things away. While doing this the wind suddenly got up, so much so I feared the block of flats might tumble over.

A light mix of snow and rain came later, but soon dissipated, the wind remaining, but not so bad as an hour earlier.

I started to make the meal.

Laptop on and started this diary update.

Feeling tired, weary and in pain with the Anne Gyna and lower back. But avoided feeling sorry for myself for once, and started singing to myself as I proceeded to check the fodder cooking regularly.

Put the lamb hot-pot into the oven for a while, then added the chopped vegetables, leeks, carrots, onions, and swede. Sprayed some oil on them, and added them to the oven tray with the hot-pot. A little bit of advice for other Senior Citizens attempting to prepare vegetables for roasting. When chopping them up nice and small so they cook quicker, please make sure the chopping tray is firmly secured on a flat surface. This may prevent the whole shebang tipping over onto the kitchen floor, a lot of very painful cleaning up, much bad language and pissing yourself off.

Then I chopped some more veg and put some garden peas in the saucepan on a low light.

While the cooking was progressing, I checked the TV paper and found something I fancied watching.

Got the fodder out and added some beetroot, three small slices of brown Irish Soda Bread slices, a strawberry dessert, and would have added a mini pot of ice-cream, but I forgot about it and left it on the side when I took it our of the freezer, where I found it hours later, picked it up and the liquid poured out – right onto the spot where all the chopped veg fell earlier.

Rated this effort at 9.25/10.

Onto the tray, into the front room, TV on, settled in the 1959 damaged imitation leather armchair and started to watch Top Gear.

Ate the food, fell asleep and woke up with the tray and the remnants of its contents on the floor in front of me, bread crumbs, bits of veg residue, gravy and cutlery spread out on the carpet, the Ottoman cover, and my pajamas!

At this point, I lost the little buoyancy I’d accrued during the day, and quickly turned into a self-pitying pathetic, depressed old man, my spirits sank with all the many Whoopsiedangleplops I’d suffered in the last few hours. Of course, all the bending to repeatedly to clean them up had now caused Anne Gyna to give me more hassle. Breathing is painful and not easy.

This may have had something to do with the fact that I could not get to sleep again? I watched all the programs until I eventually nodded off three hours or so later.

I woke up around 0200hrs, Oh great, then the Reflux Valve started. No more sleep, much more self-pitying and the like until I decided to force myself to get up around 0500 hrs.

Tsk! Right fed-up I am now. Still, I can have a carbolicalisationing session in the bath later. Hehe!