Saturday 7th July 2018
Kannada: ಶನಿವಾರ 7 ಜುಲೈ 2018
0425hrs: Woke up in yet again, a different mood, health, and temperament. Gone was the alienated, abandoned feelings, to be replaced with an acceptance of my deficiencies in coping with life, and apathetic, lustreless approach to doing anything about it.
I sensed that Arthur Itis was going to be a problem today. No complaints mind, he’s been very kind recently.
As I wistfully started to get my body out of the £300 second-hand recliner and as the mind began to wander one if its pointless finding fault sessions – it returned to concentration-mode as I sensed the sudden and urgent need to get to the Porcelain Throne as expeditiously as possible.
By gum, that was lucky, just made it in time! Messy, Trotsky Terence affected again!
Cleaned up, and off to the kitchen.
No taps, cooker or lights left on this time.
There was no air coming in from the beautiful light blocking, sealed up new windows, of course.
Sweaty, the blurred view and lack of light getting in really cheers us up.
The thermometer of the dirt covered filthy ledge read 98°f – 38°c.
I love the way they put the plastic up, and trap the dirt already in there.
I’ve now got a collection of plasters dust, beetles, flies, condensation with a splattering of down-heartedness lingering. Hehe!
I was getting the Health Checks things gathered for use, with great longanimity I thought. And had to nip off for a wee-wee; back to the short, sharp painful ones again today.
Little Inchies fungal lesion had been bleeding, so will need attention shortly.
Coming out, I checked the letterbox and found mail from Nottingham City Homes/Willmott-Dixon in the flap. It waffles on to explain things, telling us they have decided to give us the restrictor keys. Of course, there were no keys to be found anywhere! Huh!
They make the place look scruffy, obstruct movement, are fiddly and what chances of us losing the awkward keys? Haha!
Never a dull moment, no rest, no respite from the bombardment of self-covering information about the changes from Willmott-Dixon and Nottingham City Homes for us coffin-seekers.
Still, it helps keep our minds active and bodies too. I suppose!
I gave the blotches an examination.
They seemed to be on the decline, less painful, but itchier. (I say, slightly showing my lack of common sense, memory capabilities and judgement, Haha!)
At last, I got with the Health Checks. The pulse was a little high this morning, all else looked good.
Feeling a little perkier now I’ve got something done. I decided to get the peas podded and into the saucepan for cooking later on, and potatoes in the crock-pot.
Thus, showing my utter scaevity! I ask you; How just? How does one get a paper cut type wound from shelling fresh garden peas! No knives involved, no metal?
Ah, well, at least the peas I nibbled while doing them were tasty. Hehe!
I got started on this blog as far as here, then went on to updating yesterday’s post. Hello, Duodenal Donald is stinging now, or is it Anne Gyna? Tsk!
Herbert above is giving it some wallop this morning again. But of course, I am not complaining, just mentioning it. No point in my risking getting another telling off from the Nottingham City Homes for complaining about the noise from the exonerated: manumitted, absolved, cleared, vindicated, exculpated, pardoned, forgiven, let-off, protected, acquited, discharged, guiltless superior loud gentleman. As the Management, told me; He is doing nothing wrong, just following his hobby of model making. I don’t want to lose my home. Oh heck, I forgot there that I was told not to put any conversations with Nottingham City Homes Management, employees, representatives or agent on my blog. Sorry about that, I’ll cross it off.
Eventually, I got Friday’s updated and posted.
Close to the match time now, so I’ll get the nosh made up.
I ate the tasty meal while watching the game on the TV.
The memory of the fodder faded as the match progressed.
What a performance from England.
For once, we had a lot of luck and a goalie on brilliant match-saving form!
Message for teams left in the World Cup:
France: Please don’t let them win!
Belgium: Please let them beat France
Croatia: Please let them play badly
England: I beg for a win!
Haha! I can hope and pray!
I noticed some more of the nobbly bruises coming up on the legs again. Humph!
As for getting to sleep, it was almost an impossibility.
That England winning, and in such style too, was being replayed over and again in my brain.
Well gone midnight before I nodded off. Tsk!
World Cup does complicate loyalties. I have my hierarchy of support each time, hoping at least one makes it to the final, though I recall troubling times when two of my choices played each other (Mexico-Netherlands), and I was forced to cheer all goals, not just those of one or the other. I’m such a “whore” when it comes to WC!
Of course, Brazil, being a Western Hemisphere powerhouse at football, usually goes farther into the matches than the US when it makes the WC, and I suppose I support them as much as any team, unless it’s Mexico, or Germany, or Italy, or England, or Spain, or the Netherlands, or…OH RATS!
Being American, with our problem of rooting for the underdog, when some little country roars through toward the final, it’s easy to become a part time Croatia fan, say, though secretly hoping they play well but lose by one goal placed by my real favorite for the day, anyone else!
I understand Doug, I really do.
England have not qualified for donkeys years. And the surprise wins amazed me.
As long as France do not win.
Not that I have anything against them… Hehe! TTFN, Ta.
Of course not!
ter the year they ended it with a vicious head butt, ruining their image as gentlemen. That was their host year, too. What was his name? Oh yeah – Zinedine Zidane head butted Italian defender Marco Materazzi in an astonishing exhibit of the worst sort of sportsmanship I’ve seen in any sport. What an axxxxxx! (This blog is G-rated, so I felt oblic-=gated to clean it up a bit!)
It’s the money involved I tink that makes the overpaid spolit footie players get nasty. Tsk!
TTFN Sir.
Loot definitely define professional sports everywhere. But, we fans still love watching multi-millionaires run around half naked or armed for “war” for our regular doses of bread and circuses! “Toss me one of those $20 hotdogs!”
Nicely put, Doug.
Bit of something interesting here, Sir.
The last football match (Apart from internationals) that I went to, cost me 17/- (75p new money) to get in. The cheapest seats now for a friendly game at Forest are advertised as being… wait for it… £15.00!
Ah, well.
TTFN
Professional sports tickets here are outside my ability to justify. For example, take a look at the American football ticket prices.:
ttps://www.vividseats.com/blog/2017-nfl-pricing-preview
I can buy cable television’s premium level, which includes excellent coverage of professional sports fro what one ticket to one game costs! The average is $172 (about 130 pounds sterling) I pay about that much for my cable and Internet each month.
Great balls of fire! Costly or what, Doug!
Oh dear.
Hehe!
I see the room has assumed body temperature. You have to be careful pea pods are deadly. Sounds like the mystery rash is a little better. That looks like a good meal to eat while watching futbol. Hooray for England.
Cheers, Tim.
Damned pod peas – I’ve never heard of anyone, ever getting a paper-cut from shelling peas! Tsk!
Grand nosh it was, too.
Just about to take out the seasoned potatoes and hoisin seasoned spar ribs – salivating already.
Take care.