Wednesday 8th August 2018

 Yiddish: מיטוואך 8 אויגוסט  2018

0345hrs: I woke and noticed the reminder note hanging on the TV screen (About the trip to the hospital for the INR Warfarin blood test this morning). I was prompted to free my bulbous body and limbs from the £300 second-hand recliner.

As I did so, I saw signs of nocturnal-nibbling having been partaken in. Empty cheese curl packets, and a few Scottish Shorties biscuit crumbs on the belly. Guilt-Mode Adopted. Hehe!

Took a short-sharp wee-wee.

Got the bag of nibbles made up for the nurses, then did the Health Checks.

Back for another painful short-sharp wee-wee.

Got the medications taken.

Turned on the computer. All I got was a black screen with a message saying ‘Out of Range’ with a series of mystery numbers. What bit of equanimity that was lingering in my mind, was replaced with lugubriousness and deep saturninity. My heart sank, gloom enveloped my life, and I was irritated and baffled too. Tsk!

I turned off at the plug, then tried again, fingers crossed and praying out loud. This time everything started and opened as usual. I did not allow myself to get too happy over this, for fear and expectancy of things going to to go wrong again next time I launch windows.

Off to the Porcelain Throne. Messy job again, and none of those Ironclad black mini-biting-beetles was spotted.

Got on with updating the Monday Diary and posting it off to WordPress.

Then made a start on this blog.

Off to get the ablutionalisations tended to. A stand up wash today, as it is a little early to use the shower, cause of the noise it makes disturbing my beloved neighbours.

The left toes looked most Picasso-like. Hehehe! Where I’d dropped the lemongrass pot on the middle toe, the bruises had turned to different colours now. Reds, yellows and browns?

Some sort of fungus-like growth under the big toenail had been joined by some technical-type drawing signs, or Braille, in black under the hallux of the big-phalanx.? I’m going to pot yer know!

All refreshed and cleaned up, I made up a black bag of rubbish to go in the rubbish chute as I leave for the hospital. But, luckily, I realised it was too early to use the chute. So I took it down with me and dropped it near to the caretaker’s door later on.

The sign on the electronic information board outside the lifts on the ground floor had got the temperatures back showing again, showing that it was currently Sunny and 27°c – 80.6°f.

It didn’t feel that hot when I crossed over Chestnut Walk and up the grave incline.

Anne Gyna kicked off before I was a third of the way up the hill.

But, again, as soon as the ground levelled at the top, she eased off, bless her cotton socks.

The plates-of-meat and toes soon began to ache and sting. But this was expected with the Whoopsiedangleplops I’d had with them lately. Even I had to smile thinking about my toe stubbing, dropping of pots on the toes and my walking into the kitchen door. A Shmendrik I am!

Limped through the park, up Mansfield Road and down Edwards Lane, and decided to take a different route to the blood test. I went down Perry Road so I could make some photos of the HMP Nottingham gaol (Prison) there.

As I got nearer to the HMP some blackberries hanging over a garden wall, looked to be in perfect condition. But they were too high for this old short-legged chap to reach them. Hehe!

According to the Independent Monitoring Board (IMB): This establishment is going through difficult times at the moment. One-in-three drug tests (On prisoners I assume?) prove to be positive. It has an appalling suicide rate (Two attempts every week). And a killing too. Justice Secretary David Gauke said he will look at “the issues faced by the prison” and publish an action plan. Mmm?

When I got to the end of Perry Road, a pile of rubbish seemed to have been artistically laid out in the corner. I don’t think this area is near where the detainees are located, though.

Right and down Hucknall Road, having to walk through the many holes in the ground where they are mending a gas leak I would guess. For there were many large No Smoking signs on display.

It was a grand morning, and a gentle breeze was occasionally blowing.

I had to avoid a few Nottinghamian Pavement Cyclists as I made my way to the GUM clinic first. They were all too quick for me to get the camera out, though. Huh! I got into the reception window thingy. The regular chap must have been on holiday, but his replacement had all the required skills to make him a most worthy replacement. The curled lip, the sneer. And the excellently done exhaling of breath as he pointed to the chair where one has to sit and wait. Perfect bloke for the job! I got summoned back to the reception, along with two other chaps. We were all told that the doctor had not arrived, and we are to call for another appointment tomorrow morning.

As I left and started to walk to the Haematology Department, these clouds in the sky stopped me in my tracks.

In the centre of this picture, it looked at first glance that an atomic bomb was going off? And the cloud to the right seemed to have been painted on the sky as an after-thought? Yes? No? Ah well, it’s probably just my new glasses. Haha!

I got to the waiting area and took a ticket from the machine. Not many folks there yet, I had tab 127, and the device called ticket holder 115 next. So, not long to wait this morning. I did some crossword efforts all the same.

The nurse was not in a good mood when I was called into cubicle three. Seemed a bit vague and non-responsive. But she cheered up after doing me when I gave her a bag of nibbles to share around with the staff.

With it being still so early, I thanked them and left, getting to the ring road island and pondered on which way to go home.

Too early by an hour to use my much appreciated and loved pensioners free bus pass.

I decided to walk back using the usual old route, along the ring road.

The traffic on the dual carriageway was extremely light, I thought.

As long as took my time and enjoyed a steady amble, I might get to the Sherwood bus stop in time for the number 40 bus and get a lift back up the Winchester Street hill.

The poddle along the road to the next traffic island was Nottinghamian PAvemnt Cyclists infested. Hehe! I got a photo of three of them and missed the other two.

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I eventually got to the bus stop in Sherwood, without having to push myself, and I felt good, apart from the poor feet. I caught a bus within ten-minutes and made my way up from the bus stop on Winchester Street, back to Winwood Heights.

Plenty of Willmott-Dixon workers about, busy at the job. The WoodthorpeGrane Park bound dogs were taking their owners to play ball.

I could see in the distance, on my block of flats, the hoist was going up and down.

I manoeuvred my way towards the flat and noticed the Hauptbereitschaftsleiteress Patch Manager parking her pap-pap.

We had a chinwag. During which she asked if the cellophane had been removed from the kitchen window yet. I looked up, to see the workers hoist on my level outside the apartments. All windows in view had had there plastic removed. I assumed they were doing mine and others on the floor at this moment.

I felt the warm wet indication that Little inchy was bleeding, and had to cut short an enjoyable natter.

I got up to the flat and into the wet room and cleaned and medicated things. Tsk!

I washed up and went to the kitchen to take the medications and do the midday Health Checks.

The specially created for me picturesque artwork on the cellophane outside of the window is still there. 

The hoist was on the floor above. I moved later, kindly leaving my Picasso inspired and designed filthy plastic sheets.

I took the padding off of the arm where the blood was taken. The bit of leaked blood seemed a different colour than normal. I know I am colour blind on reds, they found that out years ago when I had a medical for a job as Goods Guard with British Railways. Can it get worse, I wondered?

The Health Checks were completed, and the medications were then taken.

The readings were fine.

Got the computer on, it started alright. Phew! I made up a route map of the way I had taken my hobble. Then updated this diary.

I got a phone call from an Asian sounding voiced man. I rang off straight away. Ten-minute late I got a call on my mobile – gingerly I answered. It was from the Doctor’s surgery, with the results of my blood test. Amazing, when I go to the hospital for my INR test, I get the results like this, in four and a half hours. Go to the surgery for extraction, and it is three days before I get the new dosages! Stop moaning Inchie!

INR level 1.5 (Very low, in High Risk). Next weeks dosages: Wed (tonight) 2.5 tablets, Thur, Fri, Sat, Sun, Mon and Tue 2. Easy to remember anyway. I made an appointment with the surgery for the next blood test. (Well, I’m missing Nurse Nicole) Wednesday 15th at 100hrs. I put this on the calendar straight away.

Then I emailed a photo of the black biting mini-beetle to Angela.

Went on the Facebooking on TFZers site, put the photos from today on.

Went on to the WordPress reader next.

Late now, time running out, along with the energy and concentration.

Health Checks were done and medications were taken.

Must get the fodder cooking.

Lamb hotpot (Ready made meal version). Had some potato fritters Mash in batter, that I had bought from the Farmfood Store with the lamb and sliced potatoes.

I don’t know if it was because I’d had a long hobble or not, but by-gum I enjoyed this meal so much. The 9.45/10 Taste-Rating was deserved.

I put the tray with the well-emptied dish on the other chair and got the TV on to watch a Heartbeat episode, which I stayed awake for all the way through. Then nodded off to have a dream that was so odd, in the morning I made up a graphic of the singular impression I could remember.

 Here it is:

This one image is all I can recall about the nocturnal sweven. How, why and what remains a mystery to me. Can any kind dream analysist help me here? Hehe!

This got to me a bit, and in the morning I looked up dreaming about wasps. I’ll print what the site said about this, it in the morning’s dairy.

I woke with a start, convinced that some noise had waken my up. But all was silent.

I lay a moment, and the pleasure of my old pipe with some Erinmore mixture burning away, and me sat on the lake or riverside fishing and enjoying the smoke. Ah, sweet memories!