20 | January | 2018 | Inchy Today

Friday 19th January 2018

Norwegian: Fredag 19 Januar 2018

0025hrs: I gave up again, on getting any sleep. And with little bother from the ailments, dismounted the £300 second-hand recliner, into the kitchen to do the Health Checks and take the Medications.

0120hrs: Despite feeling so drained and tired, I soon got on the computer and started to update the Thursday post.

0230hrs: Got it all done and sent off to WordPress.

The stomach gurgled.

0238: Went to make another mug of tea, and that fearful wet warm sensation was felt again in the lower regions. So, off to the Porcelain room, I poddled. Oh, dearie me. The Little Inchy lesion had been pouring blood again. Heck of a job stopping the flow. Time-consuming, painful uncomfortable and messy task. But, thanks to my adorning the Protection Pants, a lot of hassle afterwards was saved. Thanks to Michael, by the way.

Feeling reasonably pleased with how things had gone, I got another pair of PPs on and started to get the pyjama bottoms back on. Lost my balance and over I went, landing on top of the clothes warmer. Which, is now a custom-designed garment-warmer. With more bends in it that it came with initially, and a new bruise on the right wrist and Hippy Hilda unhappy with me. Tsk!

All refreshed, I went back to the kitchen to make the mug of tea.

A bit of drizzle outside, but no high winds like yesterday morning, thankfully.

A taxi was lurking on Chestnut Walk. Either he had dropped one of our alcoholic tenants off, or was waiting to pick up one who worked odd hours. But he was right in between the two blocks?

I got the pain gel out to put some on the chest and wrist, and again Dizzy Dennis visited, and I went forward. Put my hand out stopping myself hitting the counter. Unfortunately, the gel tube of was in that limb! Comforting to know, that the cooker top, counter surface and crock-pot will be protected from pain for a bit. Hehehe, it shot out all over the place.

Back to the computer, and did some WordPress reading. Then the comments.

0355hrs: Next, the big job. Creating the page top graphics on CorelDraw and Paint. Back in a bit. Hehe!

0358: Sidetracked, off to the porcelain Throne in response to the gurgling and rumbling innards. Excellent session. No bleeding. Back on with the page top graphic making.

0740hrs: Got a few done. Then got the ablutions tended to early, as I anticipate medicationalisationing activities will be required. They were.

Got the bag ready and took the waste bags to the chute on the way out.

Blimey, it was cold out there.

Tip-towed through the ice and on into the Winwood Social Hut to wait until the bus arrived.

A few other tenants doing the same. Much chinwagging between them.

Caught the bus into town. A crow of us got off, an all the others sped away from me? Well, I’d had a shave and shower and used deodorant afterwards and put clean clothes on? Mmm?

I wondered if there was some Sale-On in town. No stopping the gals if that was the case. Hehe!

I crossed over and went to Tesco to the Victoria Centre (Mall). Bought some lemon curd yoghourts, sugar snap peas, pork knuckle a pork pie some Boczek meat and a TV paper.

Along Upper Parliament Street and crossed over the road near the Theatre Royal and down Queen Street to the bus stop.

Hilda Hip gave me a blast of twinges as I stepped onto the crossing.

Thankfully, it was not a really bad one, but it seemed to last longer than usual. But, there you go. No complaints today, I was doing well ailment-wise. Just the lack of sleep did me.

A bus driver was in a nook on the Post Office building smoking his vaping thingamajig. It didn’t-half pour out some sweet smelling smoke, through which I saw a pile of nub-ends thrown into a corner on the pavement, and thought it must be better for him than tobacco? The Vap thing, I mean.

One thing tickled me on the bus stop wast bin. A poster saying Thank You for keeping Nottingham clean! And underneath it dozens of fag-ends! Hehe!

Caught the bus that was late by ten minutes. I was glad I had not gone down the hill to find number 40 bus, though. The driver said the traffic was chronic!

He soon got me and other who got on later, back to the flats. One lady said the ride was like on a waltzer at the fair!

I poddled to the apartment and put the stuff away and got on with preparing the meal. So tired now, I did nowt but eat the fooder; and very good it was too! Did the checks and medication taken.

I rang Sister Jane to see how she was, a little better I think she sounded, her hubby Pete was coughing in the background. Hope they will be alright.

I did the pots and just settled, having put on the TV to make sure I fell asleep. Which I did in minutes. Then the workmen’s crane in the centre of the buildings started to creak and clang and it woketh me up. Tsk! Eventually, it stopped, and I turned off the TV, confident my lassitude and fatigue would soon have me in the land of Nod, which it did – until the hoist platform things started going up and down. Woke again and gave up for a bit and got reading the book. Not long after that, the hoists stopped moving, and I settled back.

Into sleep mode at last… for ten minutes, then the damned strobe and pillow fire alarms went off! I dare not ignore it of course. So the old rigmarole performance had to be done again. I think this must be the twentieth time it has given a false alarm since being installed a couple of weeks ago! Out of the recliner, to the door and tested it with the back of my hand for any heat, none there, opened it to listen-out for any alarms going off, none heard. Then, to the kitchen window and looked down to see if any fire appliances had arrived, there were none. Back to the recliner, now in desperate need of sleep!

Sod-me! An hour or so later, the door chime rang out! Humph! I have to admit it took me a while to dismount the recliner and get there to answer it. Nobody was about at all?

Back in the recliner, then the landline phone rang and flashed. Being on the stand-by list for the haemorrhoid strangulation operation, I dare not ignore the call. A chap with an Asian sounding voice, who waffled on, I had not the slightest idea what the man was saying. Put down the receiver, and felt like crying such was my need for sleep!

Worra night!

Some Nottingham Street Art

Found by Inchcock on his hobbles around Nottingham

A sign on a Queen Street bin, thanking Nottinghamians, but that depends,

If the smokers are able to understand and apprehends,

That dropping rubbish often offends,

How can they miss the bin with their nub-ends?

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Nowhere is safe from rubbish, it’s found in every nook and cranny,

Dropped by old, young, Mother, Father and Granny,

They should be fined heavily, by a dewanny,

To encourage them to stop this villany!

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

This above, in Sherwood the photograph was took.

I put this one on Facebook,

Cause, and I might have been mistook,

Someone might be in shtook,

The clothes are newer than mine, new they did look!

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

The bus driver, using his Vape some more,

To me, it smelt like mandarin and camphor,

But it didn’t hide the nub-ends beyond, that’s for sure,

More mini street art, what an eyesore!

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Winchester Street, 0700hrs, early in the day,

A takeaway that had gotten thrown away,

Chinese or Indian, I cannot say,

Smelt nice, but I resisted and walked away!

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

On the way to the hospital, to receive some medication,

Noticed someone had vandalised this installation,

Whatever caused their aberration?

Undoubtedly a most dangerous adaptation,

I quickly moved on away without further cogitation!

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Walking through the toddlers play park,

Seeing this, put me in a mood that was dark,

More spewed up takeaway, it looked like curry and quark,

More drunken louts perhaps, what a lark.

Seems to be becoming Nottingham’s trademark!

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Along with these heart-rendering young folk,

Two mobile phones on the top left bloke,

Sorting the genuine ones out is no joke!

The City’s unused door & alleyways are getting chockablock,

One cheating one went up before the beak,

He was making more in a day, than my pension for the week,

Puts one off helping, so suffer the genuinely poor and weak,

So many of them have a Machiavellian streak!

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Again, on the City Centre’s Queen Street,

More discarded food, possibly chips and kebab meat,

For this fodder, even the pigeons did not compete,

And a rubbish bin nearby, only ten-feet!

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

These unclean rubbish deposits on the street, risking poliomyelitis,

Getting bitten by the rats, colitis and conjunctivitis,

Diahorrea, hepatitis, gastritis and chorioamnionitis,

Not to mention laryngotracheobronchitis,

Or getting mugged and hit over the head and getting tinnitus!

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Nearly as sad perhaps, is the artwork in the wood,

At night, a scary part of my neighbourhood,

Young itinerants lurking, all claiming to misunderstood,

I never go there at night, I never would!

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Please do not feel that Nottingham has little else to offer you wonderful money bringing tourists on your visit to our Great City!

Nottingham Castle, expert muggers, very crafty pickpockets of varying ages, Shoplifters of such skills, 90% of them are never caught, drunken students, gun-wielding ten-year-olds, antisocial elements can be enjoyed 24 hours a day, Pavement Cyclist to knock into you so you can sue them for their Social Security or Dole money, Robin Hoods, Multicultural criminal Fraternities abound, giving you a chance to chinwag with your mugger, robber, assaultist, beggar, pickpocket or knife wielding youth in your own language. Very few policemen left to catch you being naughty and various social disease clinics!

Yes, Nottingham has all these entertainments and more, awaiting your Vist!

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊