Sunday 7th July 2019
Welsh: Dydd Sul 7 Gorffennaf 2019
04:05hrs. I stirred and realised that I had just enjoyed a heck of a long sleep! Fair enough, it was interrupted a few times for a wee-wee, but most appreciated. A couple of minutes later, I up out of the £300, second-hand, rickety, c1968, beige coloured recliner, and making use of the EGPWWB (Emergency Grey Plastic Wee-Wee Bucket), for an SSWW (Short-Sharp-Wee-Wee). That made me jump
During which, the mind was having a turmoil moment, of cognitive and syntax confusion. What day it was, let alone what the time was escaped me for a moment or two? With the usual fears and various anxieties milling in the background! For perhaps the only time, I stubbed my toe against the dangerous metal sock-glide and was content about this. As it brought things back into their usual muddled but to me acceptable order. It hurt, mind! Hehe!
I worked out that I had had eight hours of sleep, on and off. I had woken late for me and accepted things without any moaning or griping. I wondered what Sister Jane and Brother in Law Pete were doing. Pete might be getting up, so he can fetch the papers, impress the young lady at the paper shop, and check his bank account. Jane may well be turning over and going back to sleep… then I questioned why I am thinking about this; things were not right or explicit in the old head yet. Had I had a funny turn?
Anyway, the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived, and this helped me to get back to some vague imitation, ersatz version of normality, which, of course, is not normality to most people. Am I going bonkers? I feel like someone has taken over my brain and is toying with things? I’m not joking, this got me a tad worried.
But, all got back to usual when I got on the Throne. I got seated and started pushing things to move, and had a go at the crossword book while I waited, as I painfully exerted and pushed things along as best I could. For a change, when things moved, it did so unexpectedly quickly. And, there was no bleeding at all! So, this little triumph made me feel better, I almost adopted a smug-mode, but the EQ told me not to, so I didn’t. I washed and off to the kitchen to do the health checks, take the medications, and made a mug of Yorkshire tea.
I took four photographs from the unwanted dangerous new balcony windows, with the unreachable to clean glass, and the deadly flesh-chewing metal spring opener, that needs you to pull and push on it at the same time. Note, the straight down one is blurry. This is due to trying to take the shot with only the left hand, and the dancing and shaking had started from the Peripheral Neuropathy (or neuritis) affected right hand and arm. Just as I had got my balance, as well. Ay-yay-yay!
I needed to use the Porcelain Throne again, but I think this was from Haemorrhoid Harold. I cleaned up and applied some of the new Clobovate 0.15% ointment, carefully. Haha! I was foolishly feeling almost optimistic.
Oh, this sensation of idiotically feeling so pleased with things… It’s always at a time like this that one gets caught out; I rinsed the hands, and as I turned to get the towel, I knocked the much-feared metal sock-glide off of the shower chair, and it landed on both of my feet, giving the poor old toe another bashing! I believe I might have said something along the lines of “Oh, fancy that!” I went to the kitchen medicine drawer, and put some antiseptic cream on the toe and foot. Not the easiest part of the anatomy for me to reach. So it took me a while. I returned to the wet room, and discovered I had left the hot tap running! Even the little black spot, whatever it is, underneath the little toe, hurt! I might not have cried, but I think I went into a deepish Sulk-Mode!
Back to the kitchen, to make another mug of tea. I must say, I have not been tempted to break my self-imposed ban on drinking alcohol for years now, but I’m glad there was no alcohol in the flat to have whetted my momentary appetite!
I got the hand-washing done, rinsed and on the slow-airer.
I bravely, nae, courageously, got the step ladder out and mounted rather quickly, to take some different shots from the light & view blocking, disappointing, lock-sticking, with the glass that cannot be reached for cleaning Or take any pictures of directly below. Due to the wide ledges, new kitchen windows. I wanted to picture them while the hands and fingers were not playing up. I wanted to take an upward view or two. I had to take them ‘blind’ of course, to avoid my falling off of the step ladder, or tumbling out of the opening, and ending up splattered on the floor below. Hehe!
Finally, I got the computer on and began to update yesterday’s diary. Which, with the hands and fingers being kind to me for once, I was getting on well with, despite a few interruptions for mostly WPSWWs (Reluctant-Weak-Painful-Spraying-Wee-Wees). Getting the post finished and sent off – but not until late in the morning. Humph!
Then, I started creating this post. I went to catch up on of TFZer Facebooking next. It’s getting late now (for me), must set the cooker.
One of the worst-ever tasting meals I’ve ever failed with! Horrible, terrible!
A flavour rating of 2.5/10! And that’s being generous!
The sourdough baguette was alright. Nowt else to say, without being tempted to use naughty language!
I watched the Ladies World Cup Final, and I am glad to report that the USA won the day.
Well, that cheered me up! Of course, they had an English Coach! Hehehe!
I soon fell asleep. Just over two hours later, something woke me and I sprang awake!
12 thoughts on “Inccock Today – Sunday 7th July 2019: Bad day. But congratulations to the Ladies Team on winning the World Cup!”
I think my comment on your previous post was picked by your spam filter. Check the filter and see if it’s there. Nice the USA girls won. Too bad dinner was a total fail.
Hi, Tim. Got your email. Smashingly witty! Thanks.
Had to spend a couple of hours sorting WordPress out – it kept telling me I didn’t have any blogs yet – and the top banner with My site etc. was not showing! I toyed and played with things to no avail. Then changed my password, and it came back on. It wasn’t as simple as this sounds, anf took hours to sort out, But I can’t remember exacty what I did, apst rom the oassword change. I’m going to have a proper look at you witty verse now.
I’ve been having a lot of trouble with WordPress of late. I’m remembering why I went to my other blog format a few years ago.
Very annoying, innit, Tim!
I was thinking of going to the Google Blog again, but then I recalled it being so limited choice and options-wise. Tsk!
You don’t want to do Blog Spot. I was on it for a very short time. Not good at all. WP is the best, but the best sucks a lot of the time.
Hehe, I think you’re right, Tim.
Well, “fancy that” is pretty stroing language foir the event of the toe bashing, yet I grant you kept it to a low rumble in case the little one’s ears perked up to learn some new jargon. Isn’t it amazing how if something heavy falls, it always lands on one’s foot or feet? I’ve encountered similar situations – dropped can of kitty food (not too harmful) to much heavier items. Of course, like you, I toned down my respoonse (“Oh goof grief! My foot is bruised and bloody from that 10 pound chunk of metal that fell on it. Goodness! Now I have a mess to clean off the carpet! I hope I didn’t upset the kitty boys with my vulgar rant”) I tell you about dropping knives? Yes, always land on the foot, pointy end if I am suffereing a bad karma day, flat side if not.
Well, it sounds like me talking, Doug! Apart from no furries, of course.
Hard hold anything in the right hand now, but it has to be done. The air-filter chaps are doing their checks, I’ll report on the Inchcock later. Haha!
So, keep a grip if you can, mate! Hehe!
I guess that tremors business is the effect of the stroke. I hope you see improvement in future, Gerry. I has to be maddening to deal with, especvially since it seems unpredictable to some degree.
I’m afraid there is nothing that can be done about it Doug, so the Doctors told me. Two weeks afore the stroke, I was diagnosed with Peripheral Neuralgia. They said it would be a slow progression, which was a pleasing aspect. But the stroke has advanced it, it’s more aggressive now. And no Cyril to tell my trouble to. I swear he understood my moods, as he lay on top of my chest, the odd nuzzling of my face, purring and crushing me (He was big!) Hahaha! Bless his cotton socks!
Take care, Doug, and a bit of fuss sent for you to pass on to the lads, please. TTFN
They eat that attention up and send their meows to you!
Oh, good. Cheers!