Saturday 13th January 2018
0220hrs: After getting over the resisted and reluctant waking up hurdle, the brain seemed atonally challenged and took a while before it joined the body in a sort of semi-coherence condition and a make-do survival state. When it kicked in, it was in a garrulous mood, but not making a lot of sense as it nattered away to me about things that needed getting done and sorted. The link to the memory didn’t seem active though.
Moments later everything my brain had informed me of, had diminished into the ether as the innards rumbled and grumbled, forcing me into a battle with the overnight fluid-filled legs to escape the £300 second-hand recliner in haste, to get to the Porcelain Throne in time. Which I achieved with about 2-seconds to spare! This session’s activities on the porcelain could be described as: “Whoosh, splatter, splat done!”
Diahorrea Duncan has returned. Took a lot of cleaning up of me and the porcelain afterwards. When I do the ablutions, I think it safer, bearing in mind how close I came to another Whoopsiedangleplop, I add a Diah-Limit capsule to the morning medication pot and will adorn the safety pants again today.
Tended to the morning medications and Health Checks. Readings were looking good.
Temperature a little high, and I’m still drinking a lot of juice and tea.
The itching around the upper torso is back again, driving me potty this morning. No pain as such, until I over-scratch. Rubbing the back against the edges of the door or using a towel. I’ll mention these things to the Nurse on Tuesday blood test.
I found the little notepad on the floor when I got back in the other room. As soon as I read the scribble on it, memories of the nightmare came back to me. For some reason, the writing was all readable and, this decided me to get the computer on and add this to yesterdays diary.
Went to make another mug of tea.
While the kettle boiled, I stuck my head out through the window to take this photo. I hope the lady who drives the red one on the far left, isn’t planning on going out this morning? Reminded me of the Parking Wars programme on TV.
Got the Friday post finished and started this one off up to here. Then posted the Friday one. Read and replied to the WordPress comments. Made another brew, and visited the WordPress reader.
0545hrs: Checked the Emails. During which knocking sounds heard from somewhere above, or maybe outside overhead? (Hearing aids not in) Had a look around but could not find the cause of them.
Then did some catching up on Facebook. The posts with the flashing moving pictures are giving me the dizzies, I might have to consider leaving Facebook, there are so many of these annoying things coming on nowadays it’s doing the eyes and health no benefit. It will not let me close or hide the posts, only the comments on the site. The only option is to ‘Unfriend’ the poster, I don’t want to do that, but may be forced into doing so.
I did some TFZer prep work on CorelDraw.
Stopped to get the vegetables prepped and in the Crock-Pot. Green beans, Chestnut mushrooms, parsnips, red onions and sugar-snap peas. Seasoned with a little Maggi. Back to the Facebooking.
Sorted the bag made up for the Nottingham Hospice. So glad to get rid of some of the stuff, to make it easier when they get the balcony done, and the big clean-up will be needed. Meanwhile, I dwell in a state of untidiness and noise from above during the week that gets worse every weekend, that is getting me hassled.
Then I got the ablutions tended to. Wrapped up well in warm clothing and set off on a walk into Sherwood.
As I got out and poddled up the gravel footpath hill to my beloved Copse, I could see right through her. So sad I felt, that. But the ailments were not too severe for me.
I turned back and took this photo of the complex.
I could feel the stomach building up for a rumbling grumble. A funny turn arrived, and in my mind, all the priorities, desires, needs and worries changed. I sat down on the damp bench for a minute.
The mind seemed to clear in a minute or so, and the Dizzy Deniss’s disappeared. I felt a little unhappy about this returning to so-called normal at first. It was as if I’d become a different person, yet with the same problems for a while? Hope this makes sense to you, cause it doesn’t make any sense to me. Tsk!
So, this stranger and I hobbled on up to the park and down the footpath onto Mansfield Road. I turned left up and over the hill and down into Sherwood.
This bit of the walk or instead memory of this bit of the trail seems to have skipped my mind as well. But the picture helped.
Into the Nottingham Hospice shop and dropped off the bag of donations. New lady in charge now, seemed nice enough bless her and the volunteer lady too.
I had a look around afterwards to see if they had any of the narrow at the top mugs. They didn’t. So I said my farewells and thanked them.
I left, out and over the pelican-lights lights safely; despite a pedal cyclist going through the lights on red and nearly hitting me and another old chap as we began crossing. Humph!
To the Royal Mail box and posted the letter I’d received for some unknown previous tenant of the flat, marked Not At This Address’. Then, I’m afraid, I started a search of all of the Charity shops (Well, most of them) for any keep-warm mugs.
Sur Ryder: Came out with nothing. Mencap: came out with a jumper. Children’s: Came out with a DVD. Oxfam: Came out with a towel. Mind: Came out with two mugs. What a clot! I took into the Nottingham Hospice Charity Shop, jeans, undies, saucepan, towels, t-shirts and other bits, and ended up coming home with more rubbish to take back to the Hospice! Apart from the mugs, which the lad at the Mind Shop would not let me buy one of them because the ticket said £3 the pair on it. I suggested I took one and paid the £3, but no, I had to buy them both.
Got some tea-bags and lemon curd yoghourts from the Co-op and made my way to the bus stop at the top of the hill. Here, I met Welsh Bill and lady tenant. We had a good chinwag. Bill told me about the surgeon who had been searing his initials on peoples kidneys when he replaced them.
Back in the messy, untidy scrappy apartment, to be greeted by Herbert above’s noise, banging and tapping this time. Every weekend it is worse than weekdays.
Got the pasty and potatoes into the oven, turned the vegetables in the crock-pot to a low setting.
Made up the meal, and very-nice-too! Beef pasty, tomatoes, sliced roast potatoes, parsnips, green beans, sugar-peas, mushrooms and parsnips. Yoghourt and a mug of Clementine Juice, using the new bigger container I’d bought earlier. A mandarin & Lime yoghourt too. Rated this as a 9.54/10.
I think Herbert above dropped something heavy while I was eating this feast. I heard it while I had the headphones on to listen to the DVD I’d got and didn’t need. Tsk! The Magnificent Seven, the 2016 version I think. Crap! Violent, but the storyline terrible. I’ll take it back to the charity shop later.
After washing up and utilising the Porcelain Throne (Messy, wet!), I changed and settled adequately into the £300 second-hand recliner to watch some TV. Dizzy Dennis returned, and concentration was almost zero. So I turned off the television and listened to Herbert’s noises for a while. Tap-tap, chipping, knocking… I can’t complain really, cause it is still so early in the evening.
But getting any sleep was farcical. Not because of the noises from Herbert, but the noises in my head. The body needed to sleep, but the brain refused to cooperate with it. This has never happened before like this, and I don’t know why it is so.
Around 0230hrs, I surrendered and got up.