Monday 11th April 2016
I woke (Which was a bonus) and once again laid there trying to recall the dreams, but this morning there was nothing but a sense of frustration, no details at all, but I’m sure I did dream a lot?
I thought about Olive in flat 82 (or 84), I’ll call to see her on my way out, see if she needs anything bringing in.
The first call to the porcelain was rather painful, so I took a Bisacodyl with my other medications with a strong cup of tea. A bit of blood too. Which reminded me, I must show the nurse my new black growth on my mush today.
I pondered on life for a few moments while taking the medications: The mobile phone has not rung for three weeks now. Popular, I’m not. Yet I try to be. I do not call people or their habits (Fair enough, Pavement Cyclist, Taxi drivers, racists, and politicians are not included in this), I love to help folks if I can. I suppose it is my lack of education and funny yet variable hobble and occasional feeling sorry for myself moments that are a handicap socially. Not hearing what some contacts are actually saying to me… or rather mishearing them doesn’t help?
I realised I was doing it again, so I put the headphones on as I started this diary and listened to some music on YouTube to pull myself out of the pitying state I was sinking into; Bernard Cribbins Gossip Calypso was playing.
That, soon had me feeling better! So, I listened to more of his songs and did a search for the missing paring knife I bought and misplaced and cut my finger with the other day, no luck.
An unexpected effervescent bubbly feeling took control of my ever-weakening brain as I went to make another a cup of tea. A shame that it didn’t last for long. I managed to knock a dessert in the fridge as I reached for the milk, and it fell ungraciously to the floor via my dressing gown and split open. I accepted this minor Whoopsiedangleplop with a surprisingly insuisiance.
The short dizzy I had when I got up from cleaning up the spillage, was not greeted in the same manner.
Made another cuppa replacing the one that had gone cold, and got back to the laptop nad the graphicationalising. Five hours later, I’d got the TFZers pictures done! Phew! No time left to get them posted as I have to get ready for the INR test and then go into town and get some things, including perhaps, a slow cooker. If anyone has advice on using these, I’d appreciate a little guidance.
Back in a few hours… I hope like! Hehe!
Got into town without meeting any other tenants en route.
Passing Clinton Street and the masses of shoplifters muggers and pavement cyclists, I took a photo of them.
Into Wilko to look at their slow-cookers on offer. I inquired of one of the ladies working there if they had any of the small ones available. (Like Olive’s one) She said they do not make them now. Wondered around the store and got a lavender Dettol disinfectant and a Zoflora Citrus.
Out and walked to the bank on Exchange Walk, passing through the Slab Square on the way.
The Bank gave me a figure of my balance, and I nearly lost my balance – by gum it’s gone down a lot!
All this paying for two Council Tax’s, utilities, etc. is crippling me. Hope they sell the house soon!
Even more depressed now, I wandered put and to the Debenham store to see if they had any small slow-cookers in stock. A bit of a maze this shop is, all floors on different levels and a job to find out where you are supposed to be going, Huh! Got to the top floor and found the department I needed. They had no small cookers either. However, they had some medium ones, with one brand being 
on offer from £35 to £20! Then I took a look at the paring knives on display; this is where I made another faux par… I thought the price on this paring knife was £1.70 and thought by gosh, that’s good value! Later when I looked properly, I found it was £7! Errors like this are not doing my confidence any good yer know!
I made my way to the bus stop but 
just managed to miss the L9.
So I had an hour to kill before the next and last one of the day.
Wandered around and ended up going in the small Tesco shop to get some bread.
Then along Upper Parliament Street taking some photographicalisations of 
the Nottinghamians as they milled around.
To the end and down onto Queen Street and got to the L9 bus stop again.
Where I had an altercation with six Eastern Europe youths, who were hanging about outside the Post Office 
doors behind the bus shelter.
Being young lads of about 17-18 years of age, and in lively spirits doing their testosterone testing by having mock fights with each other. V
One of them went for another and they both banged into me, luckily I saw them coming and fended off the nearest one with a blow to his neck. Which probably hurt me more than him. Hehe! I shouted out ” What the ‘f ‘ hell do you think you’re doing!” I surprised myself as much as I did them. The youth spun around and gave me the glare! At this point, I was amazingly not scared, more, angry. He muttered “Sorry” and he and the other youth wandered off down the street. His mates near the railings began to give me the eye. Now the fear kicked in, as the bus pulled up, I got on it as swiftly as I could!
At the next bus-stop, Bill from the flats got on, and we had a natter en route back to the apartments.
When I opened the slow-cooker and then felt a fool for buying it I found the leaflet with it was printed in minuscule fonts, and the information on it sparse.
Then the aftershock of the altercation arrived. I started shaking and did nothing but sit down, fretted and brooded for the rest of the night, apart from getting some nice nosh, but didn’t finish it all.
Feeling ‘orrible. Humph!
0310 hrs: I stirred into wakefulness and sat there, firstly trying to remember the dreams I’d had, again of me being lost in a deserted factory, then the jejunity of my existence started to rack my uneducated brain. I began questioning and pessundated my worth.
I got the washing machine going on economy-quick mode and sat in the lobby reading my Sniper book. Surprisingly two tenants passed through and out of the building, I didn’t know either of them, and neither responded to my spoken ‘Good Morning.’
Went down an hour or so later and got the washing out of the dryer, all okay.
Checked the TV magazine and watched a Black Adder episode while checking on the fodder cooking.
0400hrs: I woke, involuntarily passed the wind, felt the warm blood trickling down in my lower regions area and sat for ages thinking of the frustrating and nerve rattling dream I had just had: I kept getting onto giant sea ships and inside each one was a different place where I had worked in reality. Pork Farms, where I could not take the temperatures in the fridges. Security, where the chap who stabbed me in 1971 was somehow having lunch with Margaret Thatcher and George Osborne? There were many ships and places, but these I could remember well.
The sky looked beautiful as I limped up the hill.
I didn’t get the roasting of the carrots or parsnips quite right today, some of the carrots were underdone. Huh!
Patti Beckert, my oldest cyber friend, had sent me an email. I answered her after doctoring a photo I took of Clinton Street in Nottingham.
Got the new paring knife, and started to slice and cut the parsnips and carrots ready to spray with sunflower oil and bake in the oven… Whoopsiedangleplop!
It came out alright and I was pleased with the result, although using the knife and fork was hindered by having to change the dressing on the thumb again. All okay later, nay bother!
Although I could not recall placing the order, I must have.
Down to catch the L9 bus to town. No one else waiting for the bus, and I noticed that someone had planted a row of Spring flowers in alignment with the end of the garages wall.
The usual Friday crowds of shoplifters… whoops! I mean shoppers were milling about on Clinton Street.
Even Arthur let me fuss him a bit. Fooey was his usual self with me, I reckon we have a bond. He’s such a mild-mannered old soul, nothing like how he appears to anyone not knowing him. I love him so, I can’t help but.
While waiting for the L9 bus, I took a photo of the Council House, which turned out a good one.
This is the photograph I took of William, at the weekly Winwood Social Hour last week.
As I went into the kitchen to get the fodder ready, the rain came again. Slowly at first
Big fodder dish tonight.
Set out for the Social Hour.
Perhaps the weather forecast put them off probably, maybe or might have?
Left the place looking a bit threadbare of folk. Hehe!
Perhaps they will arrive a bit later I pondered?
Walked out and to the bus-stop, the timing was right as an L9 bus was due in eight minutes.
dilapidated bench near the bus stop.
Got the nosh out and on the plate.
I returned to the messy living room, a part drank bottle of orange flavoured spring water, the TV remote control, the TV paper, a tissue (Well, bit of kitchen towel, but tissue sounds posher), the mobile phone, the walking stick, the picker-upper grabber and the headphones littered the floor near the 1959 broken imitation leather arm chair. I reckon I must have fallen on me picker-upper cause it was a bit bent. The best one too, Huh! I checked the ottoman out, I’d cracked the lid on it.
Sherwood, via the Woodthorpe Park.
As I was passing the co-op store, a Nottingham Pavement Cyclist overtook me on my left, very close to hitting me, then did the same on the right to the lady in this photo, forcing her to stop wondering hat was happening. Over the road and to the Sue Ryder shop to see if they had any medium ottomans in stock so I could replace the one I had broken when I fell on it. They didn’t.
Further down the road and called at BJ’s house. He wasn’t in, and I posted his photographs through his letter box for him. 
When I got in, used the porcelain and had a dizzy while doing so – then fatigue overcame me again (Tsk!) Got the fodder going, not what I had planned because I wanted only to get my head down.
dear, so sad and anger making! I took the morning tub of tablets along with just one night time Warfarin.
The bus arrived in the City Centre and I dropped off and walked to the bus stop for the number 17 to Bulwell.
I observed as got close to the bus stop, that the naughty little Nottingham pedestrians were not too keen on keeping to the Walk – Don’t Walk signs on Upper Parliament Street!
Over the Market Place to the river Leen, and fed some pigeons there with the seeds I had in my shopping bag.
In the flat and put the things I’d purchased away.
The weather then started to pour rain heavily; Over the next couple of hours, it changed from rain to bright sunshine, so frequently.
While preparing to get the fodder cooking and deciding to have fish lumps and fishcakes with beetroot, I thought I’d let you all know, that I no longer have any bags BBQ disc crisps, or beef flavoured potato chip sticks in the place! Not a single bag anywhere!
The fodder came out alright this time, and what a feast it was too!
Straight to the bathroom to use the porcelain and to check out the status of certain bodily areas: Little Inchy was not bleeding, well, only the tiniest bit. The rear end bled a bit after I struggled very painfully this morning, to perform the essential evacuation procedure. I cleaned myself up and made a cuppa taking the medications and an Entrolax to ease things in the rear nether region.
What a mess I made of it.
Got me nosh prepared without any hiatus. Lamb hock with vegetables, potato cakes and Irish Batch bread to soak up the gravy.
