Monday 23rd April 2018
Albanian: E hënë 23 prill 2018
0340hrs: No mental-brooding when I awoke, the urgency of needing a wee-wee overtook all the mind-tricks this morning.
In my haste to get free of the £300 second-hand recliner and to the wet room, once again I knocked over the stuff on the small Ottoman; the empty bottle of lemon and lime spring water, the camera, the pen, pad, pain-gel and empty tablet pot. There were no stubbing of any toes this Monday. (Just as well, cause the left foot big toe is still hurting from yesterdays butting! Hehe!)
Again, the wee-wee was of long duration. Going to wash the hands, and there was no hot water coming from the tap. Heck! Into the kitchen and immediately knew what the problem was; Muggins here had left the hot water tap running in the sink! So much for the idea of my having an early wash and shave. It may take a few hours for the water to heat up. Argh, fool!
Got the kettle on and went to sort out the front room and Ottoman. Retrieving the notepad with the other things from the carpet, I noticed I had done some scribbling on it, a page and a half, actually. Seems I’d had a dream and made some reminder-notes about it. The totally ineligible scrawl revealed very little about the nightmare. Canal, wooden boat, shame, soap suds and buxom girls were the only words I could decipher for 100%. Extreme uglyography.
Back to the kitchen, and got the Health Checks done for this morning. Then made up last weeks record. The sphygmomanometer operated first try.
Then I got the computer on and finalised the tedious and mundane Sunday post. Next, I started this one off up to here, then posted yesterday’s off.
0735hrs: Went to make another brew, and the hot water was coming through now. So I got the stand-up wash, teggies, shaving and medicationalisationing were done; during which the utilisation of the Porcelain Throne was tended to; Oh dearie me! Messy!
I got the bags sorted to the waste chute, and myself togged up and set off. With the hindrance of an odd EQ sensation, of problems to follow.
Called in the warden’s shack. Where I spoketh with the Nottingham City Home’s Oberleutnantess Housing Patch Manager (HPM), Angela Gould.
I cannot repeat on this blog anything I talk about or what is said between Nottingham Home representatives and myself. Fair enuf, I’ll keep schtum then.
Had a natter and a few laughs with some tenants. Mary, Cyndy, Penny, Welsh Bill and few others. Caught the bus into town to take some photographs of the St George’s Day celebrations in the Slab Square.
I tried to take a photograph of Clumber Street when I arrived in town. But the camera would not allow me to, it was now fully kaputt!
So, I called into the Jessops camera shop and perused those on offer. I found one, the exact same model Lumix as the one that had packed-up on me. I decided to buy this model, as I should be able to operate it without too much hassle, surely? By the time I’d just started growing hair on my head again, an assistant approached me. I could tell I’d disappointed him with my opting for one of the cheaper older cameras. His look of dejection almost made me feel guilty!
Then, again. I could not find my card to pay him with. He said he’d keep the camera to one side, because it was the last of the older models in stock, for me to return to purchase from him later. Then, a smidge of panic set-in. Had I lost it? I felt sure I’d moved everything from the big coat to the sleeveless one?
Back to the bus stop to return home and search for the plastic. I caught a number 40 bus that I can drop off of on Winchester Street, and hopefully get to the flat and find the card, and still catch the next L9 back to town.
The bus was cram-packed and very busy en route.
I sat down on one of the side-saddle seats. Then a lady with a pram got on, and I moved to another place, to allow her in. She stood on my right foot, a big gal she was too. Tsk!
Then, a lady with one of those dangerous potentially deadly four-wheeled shopping trolleys got on at the next stop. She hit my chin a fair-wallop with the cart!
I alighted the vehicle, more limpingly than I got onto it. Hehe! Fretting on and off about the loss or mislaying of the card, I made my way as fast as I could manage, across the road and down back to the flats.
I got in, straight to the new heavy coat, and breathed a quick sigh of relief at finding the missing object and transferring it into the sleeveless jackets zip-pocket. Then out again sharpishly to get the next L9 bus, due out in ten minutes from Chestnut Walk.
I realised that I might now be too late and miss the Parade. Caught the bus with minutes to spare and help from it arriving a few minutes late.
In town, I was hobbling and hastening into the Slab Square when Sister Jane rang. Told me to meet her at Brian Clough’s statue on King-Queen street junction. So I did.
I met up with them, but we had missed the big parade. I fiddled with the camera and got it going, it kept sticking with the zoom thingy half open and having to be forcibly encouraged to complete the motions in and out. This spoilt the occasion and made for some pretty bad photos, some not worth printing. But, a few decent ones were produced, more from luck than any skills on my part. We had an excellent nattering and stroll around as the crowds were breaking up. We made the best of it.
Brother-in-law Pete was using a new fandangled tool on his new camera, that allowed him to take photographs of behind where he stood. Natty looking machine.
Here are the results of my efforts.
And, here is Pete’s from his latest fancy new Galaxy (I think?) camera and elegant extension.
We parted, farewells given, and I went off to the Jessops camera store to collect the new-old Lumix. There was only one person serving, lunchtime you see. I gave up waiting in the end.
Limped to the L9 bus stop on Queen Street and caught it back home to the flats.
Penny and a friend got on, and I listened to their chinwagging and laughter between them. This cheered me up a bit after all the Whoopsiedangleplops of the day so far.
The chin where the lady on the bus hit me with the trolley was stinging a bit. I took a look and found a decent bruise. Huh!
Exchanged farewells with Penny on the 11th floor and got in the flat, with mixed feelings. Annoyed and irritated by the Whoopsiedangleplops, cheered at seeing Sister Jane and frustrated that I’d lost so much of the day by losing the card. Oh, and I felt so tired and weary now.
I dug out the old tiny Nikon Coolpix camera an put two-AA batteries in it, and it worked. I might not go back for the new Lumix camera I was looking at in the shop, but I might. Hehehe!
Then I got the Robirch oven sausages that had to be consumed by tomorrow and got them cooking. The label said on 240° for 35 minutes. Put a jar of the tomato & basil garlic flavoured sauce in the pan on low.
Then did the Health Checks and took the medications. Had a wee-wee that I thought may never end. Haha!
Turned the sausages in the oven. I noticed there was no smell coming from them when I took them out and added them to the saucepan.
Got the nosh served up and ingested.
Well pleased with the flavour of the sausage.
Fell asleep and had a dream, in which I was being chased in underground tunnels for what seemed days… somehow escaping the clutches of the blood-covered almost zombie-like mob who were in pursuit. Getting fed-up with this, I bravely stopped, turned to face them and shouted something like; “Go on them, take yer blood, tear me into pieced and cook my head in garlic and seaweed – Do yer best you &*()%’s!” And they did. I seemed to be still alive while my head, boiling away in the saucepan, I asked them to add some onion-salt?
I woke with a start, off for a wee-wee. Washed and did the last Health Checks and back with my head down to watch some TV. I was off in the land of Nod in minutes.