Sunday 24th December 2017
Uzbek: 24 Dekabr, 2017 yil
0150hrs: I think I must have been having an unwelcome dream or dreams. Because I woke to feel in a right sorry-for-myself state. Couldn’t get specific incidents from my ankle-snapper day from my head, guilt and shame took over. I felt lonely and spiritless and felt awful for feeling like this.
I have to admit, when I made a move to escape the clutches of the £300 second-hand recliner and found that Hippy Hilda was giving me gip, this didn’t seem to affect me. After I got the Porcelain Throne and had to have a good wash and change of clothes, and really struggled with the water filled legs and Hilda, it took me ages to get into the other pair of jammy-bottoms. It was too painful to lift the right leg at all. I had to use the grabber and must have looked a right pillock getting them on. But my spirits rose because I thought the pain was what I deserved anyway. I wish I could remember the nightmare. I think Dad was in there, somewhere?
I got the Health Checks done, and medications were taken.
Then made a start on finalising the Saturday diary.
The concentration was not there. I was retyping so often it got me annoyed with myself. It’s not hard to that, you know. Tsk!
I went to make a brew. Tried to get a wide panoramic shot from the window. Not as width as I took it, but an improvement in my last efforts.
It took me hours to get the blog done, but I did in the end and posted it off.
I did a check on the L9 buses over the holidays.
I forget how many days it is now since I’ve spoken to anyone – ah, the Morrison man, what day did he come. Wednesday I think.
Not going to be going out much over the next three days either. I dare not go out walking with the hip and legs how they are at the moment.
Well, shiver me timbers! I’ve just spoken to someone! The Amazon delivery driver who just delivered the Seagal tape. Well, that’s better, two people spoke to now in only five days. Both delivery men. Humph!
I got the (looking at it now, seemingly sad poem done) and posted off. But it does not depress me at all. It’s just how I felt at the time.
0830hrs: I had what I thought was a good idea come to mind, I’ll get on with the Rhyme dictionary I started a few days ago.
1530hrs: Mentally drained, I got it finished at last! Sweaty, unshaven and unshowered with no guilt at all.
I got the oven warming up to cook the mini-sausages in streaky bacon later. I was going to have the belly pork slices, but they seem to have done a bunk? Just knew it was going to be a sad day when I woke up! Hehe!
Then I got around to starting this post up to here.
Got the nosh sorted.
When I poured the balsamic sauce on the mushroom pate, it resembled something I recall finding funny, and I intended to mention this when I updated this diary. But of course I forgot about it and looking at the picture now, I see nothing humorous in it at all? Sad innit?
I ate and enjoyed the meal with relish. Then a call to the Porcelain Throne arrived as I was seated on that Throne for ages and ages. Half in- half out and agony! Hehe! In the end, I gave up, and uncomfortably got a wash and clean up, and back into the kitchen. Did the Health Checks and took the medications.
Put the plate and cutlery in the bowl to soak and back to the front room to settle and watch a DVD. I felt tired but could not drop-off as I usually do. The brain was active and pondering over all sorts of inconsequential, unimportant matters.
Hippy Hilda seemed to be less bothersome than earlier. The water retention in the legs was getting farcical, though. Making movement difficult, notably lifting the right leg, that for some reason had far more fluid in it than the left one? I had gone hard too.
Got an appointment with the nurse for a blood test next Tuesday. I must remember to email them for a Doctors appointment about Hippy Hilda and the legs. Of course, as with the Terence Trotsky’s last month, by the time I get to see Dr Vindla, things will have settled, perhaps? Must mention the itching around the chest to her too.
I had another look around for the belly pork slices that had absonded of their own accord. No luck of course. There isn’t anywhere left that I have not looked. There might be a funny post in this situation yet? Hehehe!