Tuesday 12th June 2018

Swahili: Jumanne 12 Juni 2018

0420hrs: Woke up in a right state mentally. This morning’s rampantly independent brain-box was offering only thoughts of abandonment, aggressiveness, alienation, distant and self-recrimination. Yet, at the same time, I was anxious and fearful, dreading getting something wrong or upsetting anyone? The aberrant thoughts were milling around in the tangled labyrinth of other wayward, frightening, counterfactual thoughts and those few that had any logic or relativity all resulted in suboptimal decisions or meek acceptance of failure.

These tormenting mind teasers seemed to go on for ages but actually only lambasted my grey-cells for around five minutes or so. You wouldn’t believe how pleased I was when the bubbling started in the innards turned to threats of involuntary movements, and my attention was turned to my immediate need to utilise the Porcelain Throne.

How I wish there were a CCTV to have recorded my grappling battle to free myself from the £300 second-hand recliner. Farcical would be the best word to describe the fight. Hehe! As soon as I began to manipulate my blubbery torso from the seat, Dizzy Dennis visited as I tried to stand up. This caused me to sway to the right, where I knocked over the waste bin, the empty (luckily) bottle of Clementine juice and the dinner tray from last night all over the carpet. I put my hand out to stop myself going further over, and the truncheon, my Margaret Thatcher squeaky-bust-toy, and the clock joined the other stuff on the carpet as my hand slid along the fire surround knocking them off of the ledge. But I did not go down on the floor. (I’m not sure how I prevented this, but it was nice to get something right for once, Hehe!) And the pain from Hippy Hilda and the knees didn’t last for too long. The bruise on elbow was no bother.

I took a few seconds to recover my equilibrium and went into the kitchen to get the cleaning equipment. I was pleased to see I had not left the taps running, oven turned on, or found the light turned on. Hitting my head on the side of the sink when I was getting the cleaner out, I was not so pleased with. Klutz!

By now, the need for the Porcelain Throne had got a little more urgent, so off I trudged to the wet room. The fungal lesion was bleeding profusely, no doubt my ballerina-like antics getting out of the recliner were to blame for this.  I did the evacuation and cleaned and medicated specific areas. Humph!

Back to the kitchen and did the Health checks and took the medications.

Blimey, it’s 0550hrs now, and I haven’t even got the blog started off yet. Worra muddled, messy mornin’!

I remembered then, that I forgot yesterday, to fetch the medicine that the kind Chemist had missed off of my prescriptions last week. Who I called at four days later to get the antacid and was told they had none in stock, and I must come back to collect on Monday. Life can be so tricky. Haha!

0620hrs: I made a brew and got on with doing this blog.

0710hrs: Then started to finalise yesterdays diary.

0825hrs: Ah, the Willmott-Dixon lads are up in the hoist outside now. The clanging and related noises start again. Hehehe! I went on the WordPress Reader section, the replied to a comment I’d received.

Blimey! Its gone 0900hrs already! I had to close-down and get the ablutions done. Just about to go to the wet room and the door chime rang. It was Matron Warden Deana, to check the wrist alarm with the Nottingham City Control Room. We had a short chat. Naturally, my being barred from detailing any communication between myself and any Nottingham City Homes agents, representatives or staff, by the Management, I will say no more.

I took the sorted-out bags to the waste chute on the way out to the chemist.

Fair, clear weather outside. The workers were busy at it on the New Build flats.

Took this photo of the new build extra-care apartments in the forefront and Winchester Court the background, as I left the lobby of the flats.

Further along Chestnut Walk, I spotted this brave battling little daisy on the battered, car flattened grass on the concreted edge of the verge.

I called into the Nottingham City Homes, Winwood Heights, Stabsgefreiteress Warden’s Temporary HQ, WC, Willmott-Dixon workers breakfast and tea-break room, Sarcasm & Insult distribution area, Tenants Socialisationing Area, The telling Inchcock off Zone, Crockery and pottery to be stolen from, and residents room, shed. The only person in there was Big John, sat snuggly in the corner reading a newspaper or magazine. I gave a ‘Morning, John’ out to him, but heard nothing in reply. Although I’m not saying that he did not reply, just that I could not hear the gentleman noisemaker do so.

Being as no one else was in the place, I left via the door at the far end to continue my hobble to the chemist.

Travelling down the Winchester Street hill, I had a cracking visit from Dizzy Dennis. I had to lean against the wall for a while before I continued on.

The thoughts were a little muddled, and I cannot recall how I got there, but I was in the Co-op Store when things started to clear, thought-wise.

I’d already got a TV magazine, a carton of what I thought was orange juice (which turned out to be apple juice, that I don’t like, Humph!). I limped around and added a bottle of lemon/lime spring water and a baking potato to the basket, and paid at the self-serve checkout without incident.

I don’t think I called anywhere else, (Another blank spot, Tsk!) but found myself at the bus stop at the top of the hill in Sherwood, waiting to catch the L9 back to the flats.

I have to admit to being worried about the increasing number of these blank-spells I’m getting lately.

I realised I had not been to the Carrington Chemists to collect the missing medicine, cause it was not in my shopping bag. Schlemiel!
I can call in the morning when I go for the blood test; if I remember.

The head cleared and things seemed to be back to normal; if that word can be applied to me. Haha!

Frank got on the bus at the next stop. Two stops later we were getting off at the being updated Winwood Heights flats.

I reckon I had a word with someone in the foyer on the way in.

I got the nosh prepared very early in the day.

No computerisationing was done at all. For I felt so worn-out and drained, suddenly. But not tired as such?

I ate the fodder, washed the pots and just gave-in. Sat there in the £300 second-hand recliner and stared at the TV screen without absorbing any of the rubbish that was on it.

The mind went off on one of its independent roaming sessions, without any agreement or decisions being reached.

The sleep just would not come. This mind of mine was too active, not productive. Just seemingly busy worrying about so many varied things.

I took this evening photo when I went to get a drink of clementine juice, but it had all gone. The apple juice I’d accidentally bought can be given away as a raffle prize at the Social Hour on Thursday.

Ultimately, I nodded-off around 2230hrs, I think.

But not for long. The telephone light flashed, and the bell thingy rang. I struggled out of the recliner and answered it. A chap with a foreign accent waffled on. It felt like he was reading from a script to me. However, I could not make out anything he was saying. I asked who he was, but the voice carried on without any break. So, I put the phone down gently.

 Ten minutes later he was back ringing. I struggled out of the recliner and answered it. I picked up the receiver and put it down.

Five minutes later he was back ringing. I struggled out of the recliner and picked up the receiver and put it down. I set the ringer tone to ‘None’, thinking this would solve the issue. But No! The phone still rang, the light still flashed the same as whichever position I put the ringer selection option onto.

Another ten minutes or so, and he was back again. I struggled out of the recliner and pulled-put the plug from the box.

Then I got a message from Nottingham City Homes Monitoring Control via the Help Alarm Box. I could not hear what the voice from the box said, but it clicked in the brain and, I remembered, the Alarm System is linked to the telephone line. It must have been advising me they had lost the connection or something of that nature.

I wasn’t in the best of forms before all this unwanted telephone palaver started. Now I felt uptight, and Duodenal Donald had kicked-off.

So, I had to reconnect the phone-line, else I’d be without my lifeline.

Another couple of minutes or so, and he was back again. I found the flashing red light in the dark, and the annoying Brrr-brrr to much to ignore, so I  picked up the receiver and put it down again.

Anyone who knows me, would not ring me at this time of night. No medical contacts would be working this late. I assumed it was another con-call after getting into my details. A persistent little bugger this one was.

I took ages, hours and hours to get any sleep in. Then I woke up two hours later, with the need for a porcelain throne attendance. The problems found made me give up and start to update this post.

I am worried, frustrated, confused, unwell and a wee’d-off boy, now! Hehe!

TTFN all.