Saturday 9th June 2018
Spanish: Sábado 9 de Junio de 2018
0410hrs: I shot awake after a terrible night of interrupted sleep, and a variety of short, fearful dreams. Each one different in topic, but all of them brought my most annoying, infernal aboulomania to the fore.
Out of the £300 second-hand recliner, with no difficulties and off to the wet room for a wee-wee. During which the borborygmus from within started, and I converted the wee-wee session to a Porcelain Throne one, immediately. A good job I did too. Turned out to be a very rapid evacuation. Hehe!
Cleaned up and to the kitchen, where I found many of these whatever they are, beetles had got through the partly opened window.
This little chap or girl in the photo was the only one that did not scuttle or fly away. A closer look when I went to photograph the insect, showed that it was injured and could not run away. Poor thing, I had to euthanise it.
I made a brew and got the Health Checks done. Sys and pulse still a little low compared to what it has been.
I went to check the front door when I thought I heard a noise. Found the INR test results had arrived. I got the emails opened, and there was one from the surgery about the DVT Warfarin results. The INR had gone from 4.2 down to 2.0, and they had made me another late in the day appointment. They just don’t like me. Haha!
Did the Morrison order and applied the code for the £10 off voucher they had sent me after they cancelled last Thursday’s order. I hope that this week’s delivery arrives. It’s been a time-consuming painful and hassling experience trying to get out to the shops, and even harder getting back with the heavy bags weighing me down as well.
I heard that unrecognisable noise again. I’ve not the foggiest idea what made it or where it came from.
I had a look out of the spare junk-room window.
I find it hard to describe the noise, my having not heard anything like it before. I suppose as near a thing I’ve ever harkened to like it in any way, is Dr Who’s Tardis taking off or landing, but from a long way off?
I couldn’t see anything untoward or that might have caused the odd noises.
But the view in the downward photograph was excellent and came out detailed rather well, I thought.
Smug-Conceited-Mode Adopted Hehe!
The one took towards my beloved tree copse didn’t come out so well. Can’t win them all! Haha!
While I leaned there on the window ledge, the mind had one it’s wandering off of its own accord sessions. It found fears, worries, complications, and created its personal obstacles to contentment for me. Damned cerebellum, if it isn’t overly concerned with medulla oblongata activities; it seems to be so self-critical, it pisses me off! Blimey, did I say that?
I went to the spare-junk-room, and stood there, having forgotten entirely what it was I went into the room to do! Now, this is not unusual in the slightest for me, and for many of the tenants of Woodthorpe Court Old Peoples Flats, and this type and many variations of forgetfulness, amnesia, vagueness and abstraction, happen so often, they are not worth being recorded or mentioned as a rule. But on this singular occasion, I just knew it was something important, urgent that I had to do. I tried the usual thing and wandered off to concentrate on something else, in the hope that whatever I’d forgot would come back to me minutes later. Or something would take place to remind me. Feh! Fat chance!
The brain box toyed with me: How can you be sure it was something important? – Had you gone into the intended room, or did you mean to go in another one? – Oi Vay, You only have three rooms! – You are definitely suffering from dementia, and Go on then, put the kettle on!
Most aggravatingly, the reason for my mission to the junk-room has never returned. Yet, but it might – or not!
I then got the Friday Diary updated and posted off to WordPress.
Then I went to the WP Reader Section. Some great stuff on it today.
Hello, Herberts’s banging away again.
Made another brew, then went on to CorelDraw to do some more page top graphics.
I’d been on Facebook for ages, enjoying myself without any problems. Now it does not take me to the comments when I click on them? I was going to have a look at Margaret’s, but it just doesn’t take me there when clicked, nothing happens? I turned it off and on again to see if that would work.
Gone dead slow again, now. Turned off and got the nosh prepared.
I spotted that the flat’s balcony had had some wood attached to the corner edges of the base.
Herbert was having fun upstairs with his drilling, clunking and banging about for a while, again. I hate weekends, it’s always going to produce clattering and noise from the flat above. To think, I used to look forward to weekends, not any more. It’s bad enough during the week, but Saturdays and Sundays ruin my health and peace.
But, let’s not moan, because I was virtually told off about complaining about the racket, and told he is perfectly entitled to follow his hobby, by Nottingham City Homes Management.
Best to forget I typed this,
or I might get into trouble for being pestered and bothered by his noise pollution by, ‘The Management!’; and told again that I will have to put up with it. But of course, I have been forbidden from communicating any conversations I have with any Nottingham City Homes staff, personnel or agent, on this blog. So, I’ll cross this out. Sorry.
I got the mushrooms and podded peas in the saucepan and was finishing off the CorelDraw graphicationalisation when brother-in-law Pete rang me. Cheered me up this did.
I enjoyed the natter we had about nothing and everything, mostly about remembering old cars and vans. Hehe! Said our farewells, and I suddenly realised I could smell burning!
Into panic-mode and the kitchen. Oh, what a mess was found!
I removed the saucepan and somehow managed to salvage the mushrooms and garden peas. I strained them first thing (Not that there was much water left in the pan to strain, Tsk!). I got them on the plate and tackled the mess on the stove.
I tried all sorts of cleaners, and it took me ages to get it semi-cleaned.
Burning my finger-tips on the first application of the Dettol cleaner that did not work, then I tried the Hob Cleaner which left the plates with the hard ground on ring marks that will probably remain there forever.
After the cooker biodegrades in a few hundred years, the thick dried on splodges of mushroom, pod peas, soy sauce and balsamic vinegar marks will probably last another thousand years. Humph!
Despite my best efforts, burnt fingers, cut finger, they still look a right mess, and depression had loomed, self-hatred hovered, for my stupidity in forgetting about the cooking when our Pete rang me and gossiped on. Still, the nattering was appreciated. Hehe!
I medicated the fingertips, did the health checks, took the medications and got the meal served up.
The peas and mushrooms actually tasted almost ambrosial! So, a tip here for lovers of freshly podded garden peas and chestnut mushrooms – simmer them in water with onion salt balsamic vinegar and light soy sauce seasonings for a couple of hours. Burn your fingers when you to to clean up the mess from the over spilt liquid that has gone all over the stove top, spent about £9’s worth of cleaners in your failed effort to sort out the mess, make the meal, and I can guarantee a succulent palatable result tastewise! Hehehe!
I dined to the accompanyment of Herbert above’s grinding scraping noises. I nearly dropped the mug of fresh orange juice when I caught the burns on the fingers, well, finger really, the other two fingers are no bother now, just the tip of the index digit on the right hand.
Did the health checks and settled in the £300 second-hand recliner. Got the TV on, and even with the headphones on, I could hear the clanging and banging from Herbert in the flat above. I wonder what he’s making this time. A full-size model of the Russian T45 or a Panzerkampfwagen IX?
His clump, clunk and thudding went on for ages this time. But, as I say, it doesn’t matter, he is perfectly entitled to follow his hobby, and I must put up with it. As per instructions received from the Management.
After a couple of hours falling asleep and waking repeatedly again, I gave up trying to watch the telly. Turned it off, and I reckon I’d nodded off within seconds of doing so.
Then the dreams started. Tsk!