Monday 3rd April 2017
Finnish: Maanantai 03 Huhtikuu 2017
Woke at 0400hrs, disappointed in not recalling the dreams at all. Took the morning medications.
Got the washing clothing and things ready to go down to the laundry Room. Down and got the machine going. The washers and dryers are now free to use! Well, not actually, they are putting the cost on the rent increasing it by £5.
Then back up to the apartment and did a search for the Lumix camera I used last night to photographicalise the meal. Got into a right state when I could not find it (Again!) Tsk! However, I thought at first during the search underneath the 1962 E-plan sideboard, that I’d found another garden pea – but no, it was a wooden bead. Which caused me more confusion, because as far as know, I’ve never had any of these in the flat?
30 minutes later I returned downstairs to move the things into the dryer. Mable from the 8th floor was doing her washing, and she asked me if I would let her use the big dryer. No problem at all, I’d not got much in the wash anyway. I put the clobber in the small dryer. We had a chat on the way back up in the lift.
0450hrs: Another search around for the Lumix camera… and I found it, in the brown tray in the bookshelf I’d looked into in the first place? I could do not believe it – I think I might need some help about this yer know… Hehe!
Made a mug of tea and started finishing off yesterday’s diary, got it posted off. Then made a start on this one.
0550hrs: Back down to collect the washing, taking the camera with me.
Not much today.Cleaned the filter.
Leaving some nibbles for Mable on her laundry bag.
Back on the computer to carry on with this post. WordPressed a while then Facebooked before it was time to get the ablutions tended to.
Then I realised I’d wiped the surfaces in the Laundry Room, but not cleaned out the filter! So, back down once again and got it cleaned up.
Used the stairs to go down, 24 flight’s of concrete hobbled down, to get a bit of exercise like. (The weight?) Got the lift back up. Hehe!
Swapped the four bin bags and took the full ones to the refuse chute and prepared all the paperwork folders to take with me to the bank. Gathered the glass jars of Olive’s and mine in the bag to take to the skip on the way out.
Walked down the stairs again on the way. Chatted to two residents who were waiting for a bus, then out and to the Windwood Tenants Contact Point Shed. Both Obergruppenfurheresses were in. Informed them of my going to the bank, Chemists and Clinic explaining the bank farce continuation. They both offered advice to me: Obergruppenfureress Deana said: “Get yourself down there and bollock em!” Obergruppenfureress Julie advised: “Tell em to get stuffed!”
It’s comforting to know that trained, educated, helpful personnel are being paid to help look after us old folk sometimes. Scragglebumph! Hehehe! Gave them a lamb stewpot.
Out and over the road to the glass recycling bins and deposited the jars, then left along Chestnut Walk and right down Winchester Street Hill.
The grass here had been cut and scattered back on top, it smelt lovely.
Down into Sherwood and called at the Bank. 1005hrs: Joined the queue and had to relate all the things that had been going on with me bank transfer from the beginning! She told me to wait, and the new manageress would come to me.
1010hrs: She came introduced herself, took me into an office after a brief explanation from me of the problems. Had to inform her of all the procedures that had gone wrong, yet again!
Seven weeks ago, I called to see about moving my bank account from the old bank to this one. I was told what ID proof I’d need, and he arranged for me to meet with him three days later. A two and a half hour meeting going through all the required.
Attended the meeting and all seemed to go well enough, I was assured that it would all be okay and the account transferred within seven days. I was told that an introductory box would arrive shortly, and I was to destroy the old card immediately.
I received the box and new card a fortnight later. Killed the old card and went down to the bank to get some cash on the new card… the ATM informed me that this service in unavailable. Went in and spoke with the lady behind the counter, having to explain things from the start again! Waited. Met with the manager, who told me he had made an error in accepting the State pension detail letter, as it had the wrong Postcode on it.He then rang them and arranged for a new letter with the proper postcode on it that would be sent to me. Bring it in when it arrives.
Ten days later, still it had not arrived. Down to the bank again! He rang them again and explained things to them. Again the said they would send a new statement with the proper code on it.
Three days later (A Saturday of course) the statement arrived – with the wrong code still on it!
Waited until Monday and saw the bank manager again, same procedure.
Then the following Saturday, the same thing. Waited until Monday and saw the bank manager again. This time (Today) the new manager was in situ – and I had to go all through the problems with the bank counter clerk again and waited to see the new bank manager, Lisa Del Gracidio. Then go through it all again, getting right pissed off I was now!
She was reluctant to phone the State Pension people, but after some persuasion, she did, we got the same promise of a new statement would arrive within three days with the proper postcode on it. (Third or fourth time I’d had this commitment now I reckon!) Then, she said: You could ask your Doctor for these details (She’d scribbled them on an A4 sheet) and assurances and sign them as an oath, then you could bring in that letter on the surgery headed notepaper, and we’ll try that as ID proof! But it’s up to you!
At this, I slipped in a mention of this being suitable to go on the Trust Pilot website – she was not impressed, and her glare looked like it could or should have shrivelled me on the spot! I was on a roll now… I smiled forcefully and said: “Well I’m so glad to hear that you are all for assisted suicide then!” A semi-puzzled look spread over her face, and I added: “Well yer killing me with all this worry and hassle!” I pointed out I was only joking, but I wasn’t.
I informed her I would call at the surgery and beg the Doctor to supply the needed details, and IF the State Pension ID with the right Postcode on it arrives, or the Doctor provides one, I’d return to the bank with it.
We parted the best of new enemies. Walked up through Sherwood and down into Carrington calling in the Sherringham Park Surgery. The receptionist listened patiently as I explained the request and gave the banks Gruppenfurheress’s list of demands and the telephone number for her. She agreed with me that things with the ID were in a mess. Then informed me that my Doctor Vindla was not in today but should be tomorrow, and she will let her have the request if she agrees she’ll let me know via email, and I should be able to call on Thursday or Friday to collect it.
Thanked her and was out down to the Chemist. Who informed that the prescriptions should be available to be collected on Friday.
Caught the bus back into Sherwood and called at the Continental Food Shop and got some bread and Krakowski meat.
On leaving the store on Mansfield Road, I observed two pigeons totally ignoring what looked like the remains of a Kebab in the roadside gutter.
Wise birds I thought! Doctored this one by adding the birds.
Not unless perhaps they had eaten just the chips? Hehe!
Three-quarters of the way up Winchester Street Hill, some new growth was forcing its way through the fencing, with just one berry on it. Looked a bit like Holly to me.
Onwards up the hill and into the flat, put the things away, felt sorry for me and the out again to catch the bus to the City Hospital and the GUM clinic.
Snotty-pants was at the reception again. I was seen in a shot this time, no giant magnifying glasses used either. Told to stop the anti-bleeding cream and given some healing cream to use for the red swelling. I was in and out in fifteen minutes, five more and I was on the 40 bus, another ten minutes and I was dropping off on Winchester Street Hill. Never been known to be so quick and sorted so soon.
More new growths near the bus stop.
Put the cream in the cabinet drawer. Made a brew and got the computer going to update this post.
Got the meal on the go.
Krakowska sarnies, veg slices, marmite crisps, silverskin onions various flavoured cheese portions, lovely beetroot, cheese crispies and followed with an iced lolly.
The drained sensation overcame me, and I got the TV on and fell asleep.
Woken by the mobile phone at my side ringing… Humph! More bad news! The surgery called to tell me that Dr Vindla would not be back from sick leave for at least another week and could not make and sign the form for the Bank for me until she returns, and only if she agrees to do it, then.
The gloom added to the tiredness and I should have begun to feel depressed again really, but a resignation to my bad luck reigned within. Not contentment or acceptance, rather a sensation of melancholy and exasperation over the bad luck and Whoopsiedangleplops and Accidfaupas that had seemingly become a part of my aged life.
Turned off the TV I’d fell asleep watching in the first place and drifted off into sleep quickly and a nightmare of a dream. There were antagonists of all sorts verbally attacking me in an office, finger poking, sneering, scowling at me… Couldn’t understand why.