Wednesday 20th December 2017
Yiddish: 2017 מיטוואך 20 דעצעמבער
0205hrs: The hemerine task of stirring into life, took on a new meaning this morning. For a few moments, I was not sure if I was still asleep or dreaming, as a sense of being found its way through the mind and homarine-like body… I saw myself running my hands over the bulbous stomach and fluid filled legs on the £300 second-hand recliner. Collecting, or gathering the brick-a-brack and debris that was scattered around my mass on the chair. The torch, a pen and a pencil, the screwed up notepad, the spectacles, hearing aids, a spoon, an empty cheese nibbles bag, and perhaps most surprisingly the Leningrad book I’ve been keeping in the wet-room and reading during difficult Porcelain Throne evacuations?
This concerned me. As I could not recall any dreaming or going to the WC at all. So I disentangled myself from the recliner and had a look on the wetroom. Nothing seemed out of place or different, apart from the book not being in its usual place. I wandered back to the front room and got the computer going. Hilda Hips was kinder to me this morning, and Duodenal Donald nae bothers at all to me at this moment.
Visited the kitchen to make a brew and found the medicine drawers open, and the washing bowls stacked differently?
Also, the Robin cardboard mat that Sister Jane left was on the tray on the counter?
Perplexed just a tad. Had I been sleep-walking?
Got the Health Checks done and took the morning medications.
Checking the fridge and cupboards revealed nothing untoward or malapropos there. It did remind me of the Morrison delivery due today. I checked on the computer, it is expected twixt 1200 > 1300hrs. I might have a walk to the chemists early to get the prescriptions if they are ready. It’ll be a good exercise for Arthur Itis and Hippy Hilda anyway.
I’d left the mug of tea to get cold, so brewed another one. Making this failed attempt at making a panoramic photo of the appealing skyline.
This gave me an idea for a quick rhyme about my sudden morning thoughts prompted by this picture. I stopped and made it and posted it off to WordPress and Facebook. It might gerra laugh or two.
0444hrs: Got up to here with the creating of this page. Then went on WordPress Reader.
Watched some traffic videos on YouTube, before tackling the ablutions.
Stripping off to have a shave and do the teggies, and discovered the jammy-bottoms were covered with splattered blood. Little Inchies Melanoma infection was leaking again. Tsk! After so long without any problems too!
I’d still got some of the Daktacort cream that was in-date, and cleaned and medicated the area.
Got the warm clothing on and set off, after checking I had not forgotten anything.
Getting out of the lift, and oh-dearie me, what a mess the carpeting was in! The caretakers, poor things will have a dickie-fit each when they see this!
Found out I had not taken the camera with me when I was walking down the road, Huh! Had a natter with a few tenants as they were waiting for the bus. Then pressed on, feeling quite good as I ambled down the Winchester Street hill.
Very had an Accifauxpa at the end of Chestnut Walk. The vehicles had apparently been parking on the grass verge, which is no longer recognisable as a lawn. More a sort of quagmire. For some reason, the Sir Conan Doyle’s Beast of Grimpen mire came to mind.
I managed to get a half-decent photograph of the allotments on the corner of Chestnut Walk and Winchester Stree hilltop.
I thought I might catch a glimpse of my lovely next-door neighbour Josie on her plot. Not that I know which one it is mind. I failed to spot her.
About a third of the way down, both Arthur Itis (Right knee) and Hippy (Right joint) Hilda, joined forces to give me more anguish than they have ever done before.
I think my body is disintegrating. Hehe!
Through the side streets and onto Mansfield Road, I had to manoeuvre my way through the dustbins and pavement parked cars. I know I’d be nequient in coming up with a solution. Other than maybe banning all but emergency and vehicular service movement, and shooting any pavement cyclists! No, no, perhaps not! Haha!
Not that the drivers have much of an option, there are no garages built into the housing and the road is very narrow indeed. Perhaps Mrs May could sort it out after she finished her cover-up of the Grenfell fire and the Brexit negotiations? That’ll be too late for me of course, I’ll be long gone by that time. Hehehe!
With the ailments on-form, it took me about twice as long as it usually would have to get to the chemist.
The weather was unexpectedly warm, almost pleasant to walk, if it wasn’t for Hippy Hilda and Arthur Itis, of course. Bit of hassle as I approached the shops.
A youthful Nottingham Pavement Cyclist belted passed me very close and then proceeded to weave at speed through some other pedestrians. Naughty Boy!
Eventually, I got to the pharmacy and joined the queue. Found out the prescriptions had not arrived yet and told to return next Friday. I mumbled in agreement, tutted at me for getting the date wrong again, and left.
Down and into the Lidl Store. Hippy Hilda was even worse now.
I got a chocolate bar for myself. Luxury Lemon Yoghourt for myself, and a packet of mini sausages in bacon… for myself! Grand!
Paid at the self-serve tills and made an error! I put one of the yoghourts through the code-reader twice. A very helpful chap was summoned to assist. His twist of his lips and sneer told me he was an experienced Lidl operative. One doesn’t display a professional contumelious nature like that, without the expert ‘Sod-the-older-customers-they-don’t-buy-much’ Lidl training! I felt about a foot less in height and thoroughly valueless by the time he’s sorted me out. I’m thinking of voting for him as Lidl Operative of the Year. A true nasty Nottingham Lidl nihilist. Try saying that when you’ve had a few, Hehe!
Out to catch the bus back into Sherwood. Dropped off the bus and wondered what the time was as I’d forgot the mobile to use. Crossed over the pelican lights and into the Nottingham Hospice Shop and gave the lady some nibbles for the staff for Christmas. I got a look of total amazement back, and she said: “For us?” Yes, I replied. “Oh!”
And that was it, off out to the bus stop. Where tenants Frank was having a fag in a nook, and Welsh Bill joined us later.
Hilda Hippy seemed to be no better but not any worse.
When w got off the bus, everyone dispersed. I got into the flat, had a wee-wee and put the purchases in the fridge. Then got the computer on to update this diary.
The Morrison came an hour or so later, he seemed in a good mood, bless him. He took the shopping through to the kitchen for me, telling me I did not look very well. I gave him a box of Terry’s Chocolates, wished him all the best and thanked him.
I got the nosh prepared. Did no cooking at all tonight.
Sadly, due to my cock-up in not ordering the Scottish Plain Bread from Morrisons, (I could kick myself for that!). And also forgetting to take the bread I’ve got in the freezer out, I managed with some wholemeal flatbread with sliced tomatoes, stilton cheese, chestnuts, horrible tasting BBQ chicken legs and some seaweed soya nibbles. A lemon mousse and a large mug of clementine juice completed the tray of fodder.
It turned out in my favour that I had an unheated meal; No sooner had I sat down to eat it, the innards summoned me to the Porcelain Throne. A long chapter and a half of the book reading session. Then the cleansing routine during which I saw that Little Inchy was again bleeding, so had a medicationalisationing period. Got some fresh nightwear on, and back to the £300 second-hand recliner to try again with the consumption of the salad.
Then it dawned on me that I’d left the Wrist Alarm in the wet room. I struggled out of the chair again and retrieved it from the WC top and back to the recliner.
After just two mouthfuls of the meal, the landline phone tone rang out. I got the food tray onto the next chair, lowered the recliner and with much bother from Hippy Hilda, I managed to get up and over to the phone – which stopped ringing as I got to within inches of it!
In pain now from Hilda, I started again on the fodder. The Strobe Fire alarm and Pillow-Shaker then activated! I just had to check of course, despite the six previous false alarms I’d had with this system in the last three weeks Humph! So, I dismounted the chair and checked the outside for emergency vehicles, the door handle for any heat, there was none, so went into the sub-hall and listened for any activations, there wasn’t any. Annoyed and in pain now, I returned to the chair.
This seemingly Aeonian series of the Whoopsiedangleplops continued. Another ten minutes or so into the meal, and I felt the warm wet glow from the lower regions and had to return to the wet-room and clean-up and apply some more Daktacort cream.
Cleaned up and returned to the chair and managed to finish the meal. But afterwards, I could not settle, I seemed to be waiting for the next faux pas.
It was ridiculously late by the time I managed to nod-off. Grittlesperks and Huh!