Friday 2nd August 2019
Latin: August 2nd Veneris MMXIX
To the kitchen with the bucket, for cleaning and disinfecting. Despite the lengthy evacuation, and using the bucket a few times earlier, there was very little content in it.
I found it. Google: Adults over age 70. In older adults, the average body temperature is lower than 98.6°F (36.2°C). Well, that’s as clear as mud! Tsk!
I got the hand-washed last night, bamboo socks onto the stand-up airer. I left the t-shirt hanging up.
Back to the computer. A good few photographs to add, which delayed things a little, but the CIDP was all calm, bar the jiggling shoulder. About three and a half hours later, it had been sorted, posted to WordPress… and I needed another Porcelain Throne visitation to be made!
Aha, a much more relaxed affair this time. Mind you, if the last one had not been such agony, I might have thought this one was. Do I make sense there?
The wee-wees had seemingly dried up. I’ve not needed one for four hours now!
No luck, Grumph! Sorry, Jenny.
I made plans to go to the City Centre today, to have a photographicalisationing walkabout.
So, I got the ablutionalisation done. No shaving cuts whatsoever, and only two dropsies, one the pain gel tube, the other, the body spray can. Smugness Reigned!
Black bins to the waste chute, all dressed and smelling nice now, Hehe! I got the three-wheeler and set out to the bus stop.
I could see a gang of residents waiting at the bus stop as I walked along Chestnut Way, but didn’t take a picture, as I recognised one of them who doesn’t like to be photographed. Fair enough. I took what I thought was a different angle shot of Winchester Court, and a shot of the front of the new, soon to be occupied, Winwood Court. I may not be a fan of some of the new balconies, windows, heaters, failed intercom system, but I love the colour scheme on both courts.
I walked along Long Row and around the back of the council house, then through the famously expensive, abandoned, full-of overpriced rental retailers, closed down shops and customer-free, Arcade Walk.
Photos below, of the amble around the Council House.
The drivers at the taxi rank were chatting away in what I think was Pakistani.
I got into the store, and made for the fridges and found some Pork Farms pork pies, two went into my basket.
As I went into the self-serve area, a lady came to me and did all the work of putting the stuff through for me. This was when she told me about the two ladies complaining to her about my arm actions and dropping the basket, pies etc. on the floor. Luckily, this kind lady knows of my ‘Issues’ with my right side limbs movements. Several weeks ago, in the same store, the arm did its shooting out and up while I was at the tills then. This is why the lady came to me today, so kindly, to help me. The lady didn’t say what she said to the women. I thanked her for her help, and as I was exiting the shop, the two ladies approached me and asked if I was alright. So whatever the Poundland assistant told them, it had hit home. This restored some faith in humanity in me. I shall inform Poundland by Email, thanking the lady and praising her actions. It’s no good just moaning about things. When they go right, it is nice to be able to thank people properly.
I had a hobble around, taking some photographicalisations, before making my way to the bus stop.
Marie and I were having a chinwag and laugh, but the 11:05hr L9 bus did not arrive! We went a stop down the hill and caught the 40 bus. An even more uncomfortable route than the L9 on this trip. So many hills and speed bumps to go over. As we approached our stop, which was on one of the steeping bus route hills in Nottingham, Marie kindly warned me not to try and get up until the bus had stopped.
By the time I caught up with them, and only because they had stopped in the lobby for a chinwag with Cyndy, Mo and Doris, I joined in with a hello there! Obviously, Marie and I were either in need of the WC, was hungry, wanted a kip or a mug of tea, so we departed and had a bit of a wait for the elevator to arrive, but had a natter and laugh while we waited. Farewells on the 7th floor, and I was soon back home. Tired, but contended. Some great nattering session enjoyed today, they made me feel almost normal. Haha!
The orange club biscuits that I had bought for nibbles may well end up being for just me. I took two out to have as a dessert with the nosh late. Guilt-Mode dawned!
The meal of the day plans was evident by the
A deserving, despite the Asda beetroot, a 9.2/10 flavour rating! I ate it slowly, masticating as much as my shortage of teeth would allow me to, every mouthful!
The pot of jelly and custard took me back to my young days, it was unstimulating, wishy-washy, bland and awful! Just like my youthful days were. Thankfully, at the time, I was ignorant of proper food being available. But when Dad sent me out to get the week’s shopping with 2/6d (12.5p), how could I be aware? Haha!
I did the washing up, then got the handwashing done. Leaving it in the bowl to soak overnight.
Thankfully, my plans to watch some TV were destroyed – by the heaven-sent sleep arriving!
Ahh! Zzz!
Your involuntary Sieg Heils might just get you in trouble one of these days. Good thing the clerk already had experience with your neuropathic schuhplattler† tendencies. The episode with the kettle might just be kin to the Lakota Kettle Dance. The Lokata are plains Indians from modern day Iowa, USA. They danced around a kettle of food, throwing food in the kettle as they danced, and then they ate the kettle of food as a community for strength. Your adaption with medicine mixed in is definitely a modern take on the kettle dance. You’ve invented the neuropathic medicine drop kettle dance.
Where you tempted to go for a test ride in the pink VW Bug on the children’s ride? It looks like fun. You got a lot of really nice street photos. Those pavement cycles should probably be labeled domestic terrorists. You got 2 free on the Orange Club biscuits. Good job. That’s a terrific looking meal that looks very deserving of it’s A grade.
†A German dance where men repeatedly hit the soles of their shoes, their thighs, and their knees. It dates back to 3,000 BC — almost as old as Inchcock.
I looked up the dance: (especially in Upper Bavaria, Tyrol and Carinthia native) folk dance, in which the men hopping and jumping in rhythmic alternation (Not certain of rhymic bit, Hehe!) with the palms beat on soles, knees and leather pants.
Then realised you had supplied me with all the details. The traditional dance of Germany. We have very similar Welsh dances like this one, Tim. But I might be confused? I prefer your latter explanation, The Neuropathic Schuhplattler. The neuropathic medicine drop kettle dance. It could prove costly though, in kettles. Haha!
As for the little cars, I don’t think I could have got up to get in one. Imagine if got a neuropathic medicine drop kettle dance spasm while in a car? Hahaha!
No one seems interested in the cyclists, apart from the odd person they run into! Tsk! The Health & Safety geeks… where are they? Probably riding on a bike to get to work? They have got a ban on diesel cars on our roads to be made law! Grumph!
Super nosh. The free biscuits tasted extra special too.
Cheers, mate. All the bestest.
No diesel cars eh? I assume diesel lorries are still good to go, since most lorries are diesel.
Yes, Tim, lorries and vans are still a go!
Do you realice that with your crazy post you do inspire? For me at least, you craaaaazy.
Take car sir, and if you pay me 100000000000 $ , I promise I will take care for you even though you don´t need it.
That’s jolly-decent of you, cocker.
Now let’s see what I can sell, erm…
Hehehe!
All the bestest, have a great day!
TTFNski.