Sunday 12th November 2017

Scots Gaelic: Didòmhnaich 12 Samhain 2017

0115 hrs: Woke up with soft lights flashing and the sounds of a crackling fire! Momentarily flabbergasted and a little fritted, I dismounted, not without some difficulty, the £300 second-hand recliner and went to investigate. No fire alarms, no strobe activation. Into the kitchen and ah… all became clear! Were some twits using up their fireworks left over from Bonfire Night?

I think it might have been an organised pyrotechnic display. The fireworks were coming from the City Centre or close to it, and some amazingly large shows.

These four on the right, were the best of those I could manage to get.

While I was up, I made a small mug of the extra sharp tea, watched the display a little longer, then returned to the recliner and settled down again.

I soon returned to sleep mode, without any difficulties.

0300hrs: Stirred again, and wobbled off to the Porcelain Throne.

No bleeding from Haemorrhoid Harold yet, and I think that Trotsky Terence is weakening now, too.

Took the medications. Injected the Enoxaparin, put some vaseline on the burns and did the ear oiling.

Pain-gelled the knees wrists and hands.

Had a guzzle of the Duodenal Donald medicine.

The Health Check readings seem to be up and down a bit this week?

Still, I might be feeling a bit low again spiritually, but healthwise things seem good?

I hobbled back into the front room and opened the windows.

I got the camera and took this view of the scaffolding and stuff, that caught me out again when I saw it there on the balcony. Hehe!

Thought I’d do a Good Morning photo to you all. Now, this you’d think would be a piece of cake? Just giving a thumbs-up sign? Believe me or not, but Arthur Itis and Cramp Colin decided that the thumb would stay in this upraised position for over an hour, before releasing it. It didn’t half make typing hard! Hehehe!

I’m looking forward to going to the Remembrance Service in Daybrook later. Just so I can show my appreciation of what they had to go through, and those that still are.

I got the Saturday Diary concluded and sent off. Then made a start on this one, up to here.

Onto the WordPress Reader. Then comment responses.

Facebook catch-up again. Hope it doesn’t go low on me again, here goes… It froze. Turned everything off and back on, it worked for a while then started sticking. Huh!

Onto CorelDraw and made a graphic to use as an Inchcock Today top photograph. Hopefully a comical one about a dungeon prisoner (Me) and a buxom wench? I shan’t put it on until I use it, cause it might spoil the humour later.

I checked the Emails next.

Sister Jane rang me to remind me of the Service. That was very good of her.

Health Checks, then I did the ablutions, got dressed and set out up into the Park and down onto Mansfield road. Along to the Church in Daybrook.

Why, do you ask have I not supplied any photographs? That is because I left the camera, mobile phone and hearing aids in the flat. Grumph and Cobbleturds!

I could hear none of the Fathers words. The Church was full. There were no free seats nearer the front. Still, it wasn’t the Christian aspect I went for I have to admit. It was my conscience only that I go to appease, to offer my thanks for their contribution to the wars past and present.

I did bump into (literally) a chap called Eric Hopkins (I’m almost certain), who I knew years ago as Sergeant Hopkins. His voice could be heard from the far end of the parade ground and had lost no volume over the years. I respected him then. Listening to him,  it sounded as if he had lost none of his principles. He started telling me what he had been up to over the years in between. But was summoned by his family to fetch the car to lift them home. But that ten minutes or so, made me feel a part of society and wanted, somehow. As I left to walk back, I saw that his wife with the family was a girl called Margaret, who I had desires for as a youth! Strange feelings.

The walk back was full of memories. As I went through Woodthorpe Park, it was full of dogs taking their owner for walks, and I felt a clot for not remembering the camera.

As I got inside the flat, Dizzy Dennis, and Duodenal Donald both visited me. A summons to the Porcelain Throne proved the Trotsky Terence had fooled me earlier; The Trosky was back again!

I opened a tin of chopped tomatoes, seasoned them with basil and a sprinkling of regular table salt. Got them in the pan ready for warming. Made sure the streaky smoked bacon was handy and got the oven warming up prepared.

Had a perusal of the TV magazine to see if owt worth bothering watching was on the gogglebox.

I got the nosh served up. Very early in the day for me. I was feeling so tired. The aching feet, the memories invoked by meeting Eric. (For some reason I cannot recall his nickname?) My having seen Margaret. I felt suddenly so tired and drained.

Cunningly (I thought) I cooked the bacon crispy in the oven, then added it to the seasoned tomatoes in the saucepan for ten minutes on simmer. Thus the bacon flavoured the fruit and became limp and less bother to incisor tooth, Suzie when masticationalising it.

I enjoyed the meal and went to the kitchen to wash the pots.

Although I knew that is was so nippy outside, the view from the window was beautiful.

I put the TV on, and started falling asleep and nodding off. Tsk!