Sunday 24th June 2018

Portuguese: Domingo, 24 de Junho de 2018

0435hrs: Ineffably, I’d had six hours sleep last night, much better that is. No waking up, no noctambulant nibbling and no jumping awake with a start.

I did have what seemed like a tumultuous long, frustrating dream, and I woke up spreadeagled half-on, half-off of the £300 second-hand recliner, with aches and pains in most locations of the torso. The back, neck and right ankle being the worst affected. The need for the utilisationing of the Porcelain Throne arrived as I was extracting my lumbering body from the chair. The chest was very itchy.

The impressions left of the dream were that I was flitting between different places I had worked over the years, and reliving the disasters and mistakes I had made, and doing them all over again. Knowing I was doing this in the dream, but unable to put things right.

It took me that long to get myself upright with the body pains, the need for the Throne dissipated and was replaced with the need for me get some Phorpain gel spread on my back Not easy when one is short and chubbily built), and to take the medications, including some extra Codeine. I did the Health Checks too.

No sooner done, than the need for the Throne usage returned, so I poddled off to the wet room. I think that when I got myself body knotted up nocturnally on the recliner, I must have got the toes entangled somehow because they were now painful too? Every morning something different. Hehe!

The evacuation was another Trotsky Terence affected one.

I decided to get the ablutions done while I was in there. No shower, of course, the noise this unit makes when operative would disturb my neighbours, so a Stand-up session was taken. I had to reapply the pain gel I’d put on an hour-and-a-half ago, of course, having washed it off. Shlemiel!

I did notice how my chin was going Chicken Style in my older age. Not pretty is it. And, the torso seems to be collecting pot-marks, scars, and bruises. The poor old thing, Hehehe!

Did the medicating of Stand-up areas that need it, and went to make a brew of tea.

0600hrs, already. This sleeping for longer has upset the body clock. Haha!

I made a start on this diary.

0615hrs: Clanging noise from Herbert above. But of course, I am not complaining, just mentioning it. There’s no point in my risking getting another telling off from the Nottingham City Homes for complaining about the noise. As the Management, told me; “He is doing nothing wrong, just following his hobby of model making. You’ll just have to live with it.” I don’t want to lose my home. I hope he has not fallen over and is bleeding to death up there, cause there was only that one noise and not the usual repetitions. But, give him time.

Went to make another brew for the one that I let go cold. Took these photographs from the kitchen window.

I then tried to have a go on Facebook, fingers crossed that yesterdays problems with it going so slow and accessing things has been righted.

I spent a long time making a TFZer graphic. I hope they like it.

I enjoyed doing this one.

Then I went on WordPress Reader for a perusal of others stuff. Good stuff again.

I rang Sister Jane, and she rang back. Her ‘Inchcock Food Intake’ advisory and instructional mode were adopted; She said it was good that I was not eating whole pork pies with a meal. Haha! We had a natter, losing the connection in the middle of it. As she rang off, I got a ‘battery critically low’ warning. The phone was charged up yesterday morning too! Glad we spoke though, cause Pete said he had not received the diary for yesterday, I checked, and he was right. I really thought I’d sent it as well. Humph! Klutz!

So I sent it off and got on to doing the Morrison order.

I want to get that and the meal was done so I can settle to watch the England v Panama game. I just hope that Duodenal Donald eases off in a bit, he’s very naughty to me at the moment.

I ate the fodder while watching the football match. But not much of it. One muffin, a few chips, half of the gherkins and tomatoes.

The Panamanian tactics in defence were more like rugby than soccer.

But what a result.

Certainly caught me by surprise in the first half. The second-half was more like the England team I know and love, ineffective.

After the game, Duodenal Donald was still grieving me, and the mind went off on one of its wanderings, worrying and fretting sessions and stayed that way all night.

Did the Health Checks and took the medications with an extra Omeprazole capsule and a few good swigs of the pitifully inefficacious antacid medicine.

The body closed down, the meal tray and dirty still half-filled plate sat of the chair next to the second-hand £300 recliner that I sprawled on top of, looking and feeling depressed and concerned over everything. Where the tray and I remained for several hours; Me, with about as much life in the crumb and uneaten food-filled plastic food-tray.

The mind did not stop stewing away.

Eventually, I had to get out of the chair, to tend to the wet-warm feeling from the lower regions. Cleaned things up and applied the medications. I considered having a stand-up -wash and shave, then the thought that I need to get help with the insurance telephoning tomorrow – then, I remembered I must also get help to phone the surgery about the appointment changes… next I stubbed my toe on the trolley. Then I feared I might have left the oven or tap on in the Kitchen… On and on these, what were to me, worrying things pestered me. I ended up checking the kitchen. Then doing nothing else other than getting my head down again.

Weekends are not my favourite times.

Taketh care folks. TTFN.