Saturday 1st April 2017

German: Samstag 1 April 2017

0345hrs: Woke up with some memories of the dreams I’d had. A barren landscape as far as I could see, all repetitions of the same plot of land in a mire or bog?

All I was doing was walking from one pool and bench to the next, the whole world seems made up only of reproductions of this little scene, the pool or mire and bench with moss all around.

At each plot, I’d get out one of a seemingly never-ending supply of yellow dusters and would wipe the damp slime off of the bench at each stop, then move on to the next. I felt calm and contented and this went on all through the dream which seemed to go on for hours. Like a scene out of Hound of the Baskervilles scene repeatedly? So real it felt.

0400hrs: Arose out of the surely on-its-last-legs £300 second-hand recliner and nearly toppled over, so bad was my balance for some reason? I smiled to myself and thought, well you have been walking all night through the soft muddy bog. Hehe!

Made a brew and visited the porcelain throne – bit different this morning, much bleeding from Haemorrhoid Harold and Little inchy was very sore. Anne Gyna just letting know she was there, but not too bad at all. Arthur Itis fair as well.

The computer turned on and got the Saturday post finished and posted. Made a start on this one.

Did some Facebooking.

Created and posted some fun graphics in response to Paul Winterbourne’s posts for a bit of fun.

The sky had brightened, just after taking this photo, surprisingly, the rain started.

WordPressed a while, then tended to the ablutions in readiness for my planned 2-mile hobble into the City Centre.

Which didn’t happen!

Due to the fact that when I went down and had a gossip with some residents in the Foyer, the rain and wind were stronger than ever and I decided on catching the bus instead. But, I then realised the first bus going to town was not for an hour! If you’re confused at this stage, I’m not surprised, so was I!

So I took a walk up the gravel hill, through the Woodthorpe Park.

Watching some of the dogs taking their owners for a walk and game of fetch-the-ball – Or not, which I enjoyed.

The rain had eased off a little by the time I approached the bus stop.

Alighted the bus in the City Centre and hobbled to the Jessop camera store on Clinton Street.

Not many folks about yet.

Inquired of one of the salesmen lurking about waiting to pounce, about the level one training course and how much do they cost and where and when held.

He was good this salesperson, he had me signed up for Tuesday 11th April at the shop for an hour one-to-one learning hour about the camera, he’d sold me the lesson, a spare Lens cap and Lens cleaner and I was £90 lighter, all within ten minutes!

Confused as to how he did that, I paid the man and exited the store.I nipped as quickly as I could through the rain and into the Victoria Shopping Centre and into Boots.

I nipped as quickly as I could through the rain and into the Victoria Shopping Centre and into Boots. Where I joined the massive queue to ask someone about the costs of buying one of the Do-it-Yourself INR blood Test machines, tabs and needles. But I gave up patience after ages and left the queue as there was only one woman at the eight service counters!

Which is just as well, because I search the details on the internet when I got back:

Cheaper to croak out, at least my funeral is all paid for. Humph!

Left the Boots store and walked to the other end of the centre (mall) to Tesco’s.

Passing one of the sets of escalators that had a mannequin hanging between the up and down steps.

I thought it was original, never seen one like this before. Of course, it could have been a woman hanging there? Hehehe!

Got in Tesco and spent a bit more, Tsk! Sourdough bread, vegetable sausages, seaweed crispies, black bean sauce and… do you know? Them their Fresh Cream Horns jumped right into my basket again!

The little scallywags… Ahem!

Had to get a nip on to catch the bus, managed it with seconds to spare!

Back in the flat, no calls to the porcelain.

Put the fodder and camera extras away.

Computer turned on and did the Anticoagulation machine search.

Made a cuppa and got the chips in the oven.

Added the beef pie later.

Rang Olive to see how she was going. Not too good, but she’s allowing me to call on her in the morning.

I think oven chips, the pie, beetroot and onions for tonight, this afternoon rather.

Checked the TV magazine and realised I’d failed to get one for this week when pout shopping earlier, so I won’t know what I’m missing when I fall asleep. Hehehe!

Got the meal served up. A nice 9.2/10.

There was a Whoopsiedangleplop when I was refilling the mug with orange juice as I over filled it and sprinkled it over my new jammies and the £300 second-hand recliner and the electricity extension plug! After a few minutes of kitchen towel usage and bad language, I managed to mop and clean it all up without any further disasters. Tut!

I pondered and fretted over the absolute unbelievability of the State Pension people. When the bank manager informed them that they had got the wrong Postcode on my breakdown letter four weeks ago, they promised to send a new one with the proper Postcode on it and we had not received in three weeks, I had o go down to tell him, but found he was on holiday for a week. Five weeks had gone, now. Had to visit the bank again to explain things to him again. He called the State Pensions again and after much kerfuffle, they said they’d send another one. It arrived today, with a different Postcode on it, but still not the correct one!

And, the Bank Manager informed me he was being transferred to a different branch and a new manager would be in situ next week! I was now back in a depressed, sorry for myself and Duodenal Daniel pain giving condition… oh, and discouraged with life and it’s pitiful Whoopsiedangleplops it brings me; at the very thought of my having to go through the same process of humiliation from scratch with the new manager! Mortified!

Took the things into the kitchen to throw some away and wash other articles and clothing from the Whoopsiedangleplop with the orange juice, and just had to admire the view outside, despite my depression.

Duodenal Daniel kicked off almost immediately, then Anne Gyna joined in.

Not happy, not comfortable and perhaps unconsolable? Poor old chap, Hehe!

Trying to concentrate watching the TV later was neigh impossible with the pains, distraughtness and feeling worried and a bundle of nerves so suddenly.

Humph!