Thursday 21st December 2017

Macedonian: Четврток 21 декември 2017

0215hrs: Woke feeling so tired after little sleep. Yet I got out of the £300 second-hand recliner without much bother, Hippy Hilda and Arthur Itis had both calmed down after last night’s farce with the Whoopsiedangleplops, and I was off hobbling to the Porcelain Throne.

Another longish session and I had to clean up Little Inchy again, a contumelious affair.

I got the computer going, and then did the Health Checks and took the medications. All seemed okay.

Had to go back to the Porcelain Throne again. The book came in handy, half a chapter read.

Made a brew of tea and took a photographicalisation from the kitchen window. As I hung out of the frame into the morning mist, it did not seem too cold.

I had a period of annoying ingeminating. No idea why, but I kept getting up from the computer to see if I’d left the tap on in the wet room, then later I checked to make sure of the faucets in the kitchen. And, to see if I had left on the stove. Unnerving few minutes that, I just felt I had to make sure?

Back to sorting the Wednesday diary and got it finished, then began this one.

Went on WordPress Reader.

Did some Facebooking and then closed down the computer and got on with the ablutions. Good shower shave and sugar! Is that the time? I must rush. Hehe! Haemorrhoid Harold and Little Inchy, not bleeding. Hippy Hilda and Arthur still giving me unpleasant grief.

Got the nibbles and raffle prizes in the bag and set off. I had a limp around the back of the block. Passing the end garages and up the side path to Woodthorpe Grange Park. Well, I say up it, I got so far in the mud and realised I could not get back safely after a few yards.

I turned and involuntarily slid most of the way back down again.

So I took a photographicalisation of the building from the bottom of the incline being as I could not get back up again.

Arthur and Hilda were most displeased with my actions, me too!

The workmen were up on their amazingly constructed hoist grafting away again.

I think they break for the holidays tomorrow, Mary told me last week, and surprisingly I remembered. Of course, I might be wrong. Haha!

I took another picture from the front end corner. My window is the one underneath the platform.

I poddled along painfully in the mud covered road of Chestnut Walk towards the hut known as the Obergruppenfureresses Offices and Winwood Tenants Social Shed.

Passing the picturesque, warped, bird-phoo covered stained Old Peoples bench. I took a shot of it, and as I did I thought I saw something moving on the seat planks, so I zoomed in and took a close-up. What is that between the planks sticking up? I added it, to show-off and for a bit of fun. Naughty Inchcock! Hehehe!

The tenants seemed to me in a good mood today, most of them. May (Who had lost her husband.) was bearing up well, bless her. Bill (William on Sundays) reminded me of myself, confused. Haha! Jenny was hard at work, as usual, keeping the tenants updated on things, making tea and supplying nibbles supplied by May, and a sausage roll and mince pie for each of us. She looked particularly attractive this morning. BJ arrived later, and was in a talkative mood, and seemed fitter today. I enjoyed seeing that.

I handed out the nibbles and put the raffle prizes on the trolley. One or two residents even helped me with the crossword. BJ and Jenny both helped me finish the one I was doing. Good people!

I decided to go to town and Tesco, to get another Pork Hock, Part-baked cobs, fresh bread and milk.

Said my farewells and out to the bus stop. Where a few others were already there. Nora, the amiable and sociable lady, got on the bus with me, and we chatted about the old times en route. I felt so happy at that moment.

I got off and crossed the road then walked up to the Tesco Store. I spent a good while plodding around and just perusing what was on offer. Then I pulled myself together and sought the products I had gone there to buy. Ended up getting; Flatbread, four part-baked packets of various types of cobs, another Pork Knuckle, two lemon curd yoghourts and a baking potato. I forgot the milk, Tsk!

Paid the young lady who served me with the minimum of verbal contact and an expression that said two things. One, “I don’t want to be here!” and two, “Why did you come to my checkout, you old fart!” – Not the quality of insults, objectionable sneers and twisted lips like the Lidl staff, though. But maybe she is new and will learn later. She indeed was not a complete nescient, like those that Lidl obviously train-up, encourage and employ.

She gave me my change, loosely in the vicinity of my hand. I thanked her and wished her all the best for the holidays, getting a look up and down from her, but no words in reply.

With the weight of the bags, the pains from the ailments got pretty bad as I left and made my way towards the home bus stop for home.

I walked down King Street and took these pictures of the happy, contented, kind, caring, contented Nottinghamians.

I struggled up Queen Street to the L9 terminus and waited. The accompaniment of two youths having a raging argument outside the post office doors hardly stopped the ankle-snappers screaming demanding something or other, using false tears for  Christmas from their Mother. As she dropped fag ash on them while on her mobile phone and ignoring both kids.

Each party soon moved on and away. Thankfully. All this to the feint dulcet tones of; ♫ O come, all ye faithful, Joyful and triumphant, Come and behold Him, Born the King of Angels, O come, let us adore Him… ♫, lingering in the background.

I was imbroglio minded, after seeing and hearing this performance. There seemed to be a lot of prostaks about today?

The bus arrived and departed early, me being the only passenger.

Near the Milton Street junction lights, a private hire taxi nearly hit the bus!

At the next stop a lady tenant, another nice-natured one, I think her name is Brenda, from the 11th floor got on the bus.

We had a good long natter en route home.

I struggled with the bags on the way to the apartment. Brenda got off on the eleventh floor and bade me farewell and an enjoyable holiday. I returned my best wishes to her.

Got in the flat and had a wee-wee. Checked on Little Inchy, some blood had leaked, but not a lot, as that magician used to say.

Put the fodder away and got on the computer to update this twollop.

Three hours later, with Hippy Hilda having calmed down now, I went to the Morrisons site to do an order. Got it in for next Thursday. Remembered milk, Scottish Plain bread and mini-rolls.

Feeling so tired now.

Health Checks and medications were taken.

Sorted the Nosh; Pork Knuckle, tiny tomatoes potato chips, tomato sandwiches and BBQ sauce, fresh orange juice and lemon mousse to follow. If it were not for the incredibly-tasteless Tesco in-store baked bread, it would have been 100%. Shame!

Dizzy Dennis visited me severely, but Arthur Itis and Hippy Hilda both eased off.

I put the TV on to watch some Law & Order, but I dropped off into a dream filled sleep at the first set of commercials.

I wish I could recall the content of these nightmares, but only an imprecise, vague impression of my being powerless lingered in the grey-cells.