Saturday 11th November 2017
Italian: Sabato 11 Novembre 2017
I woke with much perturbation of the mind this morning. Unsure as to why, by I was fretting over various unrelated things within seconds of gaining some imitation grasp on what was about… then the memories of some of the dreams came to mind, and I think they may have been the cause for my solicitude of the grey-cells? I was back working at Carters pop factory, but everything had changed, I didn’t know how to operate any of the machines, find my way around or recognise anyone in the place. I just seemed to poddle about being ignored. I came to the decision that I was dead and a ghost. This settled the situation down, and I flew around looking down on everything around all of the sections and warehouses. I seemed very content for a while, then I found myself on a canal in a wooden boat and sinking, this time I was not a ghost.
I’m sure so much more occurred in the nightmare, but can’t recall much.
As I placed my feet on the carpet as I extracted my bulbous body from the recliner, the top of all the toes on the left foot, were in agony. Had I been sleepwalking? I checked around, and there were no signs of this or any nocturnal-nibbling.
Had a decent cleanup, teggies (Oooh! Hehe!) shave.
Now there is, or must be the reason why I took this photographicalisation of the wet room sink with the flannels being put in to soak after the ablution session had taken place.
What that reason is, I have no idea.
The Porcelain Throne session was much better this time. Did the Health Checks and took the medications. Sys 159 Dia 76 Pulse75 Temp 32.1.
No attention’s from Dizzy Dennis or Pleurodynia Portia, Anne Gyna or Hernia Henry, a good start I thought.
I cracked on with creating a photographic ode, come rhyme.
It took me six hours to get it completed, and I was not happy with it at all.
I took a break and updated Friday’s Inchcock Today and got them posted.
Forever making cups of tea all the time?
The Iceland delivery arrived, and I got it put away.
Back on to the poem come ode creating.
The graphics were not too bad.
The wording was not proper, but I was just too tired to carry on editing it.
I got this blog started off.
I pondered on what to have for dinner. Simple stuff today, tinned tomatoes seasoned with herbs, frankfurters and bacon bits to be cooked and put in the bowl with the vegetables. Some sliced wholemeal cobs arrived with the order, so they’ll do nicely.
Finally around twelve hours after waking up, I got around to doing the WordPress Reader session.
Got the bacon bits in the oven and low light under the saucepan of tomatoes?
Took the second photo of the day hanging out of the window. A good view of the comparison between AM and PM?
Did the Health Checks and medications were taken.
A quick bash on Facebooking, going slow again. Took ages and I still didn’t get all I wanted to do finished. Tsk! Had to stop and close down to get the nosh ready
The nosh was great tastewise.
With contented innards, I settled to watch a film on the gogglebox, about the Gallipoli Campaign.
The first set of advertisements and I nodded off into a mix of weird dreams that made no sense to me at all.
Around eleven o’clock, I had to rise and get to the Porcelain Throne. Which proved somewhat costly in the pain stakes! The left arm slipped down between the two chairs as I got out of the £300 second-hand recliner, starting the two little oven burns bleeding as I withdrew the arm. Stubbed my toe en route and hit my elbow on the sharp corner section of the cabinet as I sat quickly upon the seat.
At least there was no bleeding from Haemorrhoid Harold, Haha!
Fell asleep on the Throne. Stirred around 0100hrs and got back into the recliner after washing the pots.