Monday 7th October 2019

Afrikaans: Maandag 7 Oktober 2019

00:30hrs: I woke, again in need of a wee-wee. Disentangled my blubbery body from the Xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working recliner
£300, c1968, second-hand, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty recliner. Made use of the GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency Bucket) for a PWWDIB (Pathetic-Weak, Why-Did-I-Bother) mode wee-wee.

I took the bucket into the kitchen to clean and sanitise it, only to find that there was no hot water coming from the tap (faucet). The water heater had gone down again! Grumph! So did it using boiled water from the kettle. Not comfortable with the Peripheral Neuralgia making the finger-tips loose sense of touch, and of course, I burnt myself without knowing it once more, until I saw it, then the brain got the message from the nerves, and the pain began! I must get someone to ring for me and inform Nottingham City Homes.

No hot water, no handwashing. Shame, handwashing every morning is part of the accepted physiotherapy and was doing me alright, I think, healthwise. How I’m going to shower and shave, I don’t know. Defcon Three Adopted! Fretting a bit!

I got the updating of the Sunday post finished and posted off. Then I made a start on some graphics needed on CorelDraw, in between the odd RWPS (Reluctant-Weak-Painful-Spraying) wee-wee.

As I stripped for the ablutions, I noticed that I had grown some more wounds, (which seems to alter per diem!) on the chest/belly this time) near the heart op scar. To join with the new spider veins, itches, cuts, lumps, blood papsules, blotches, scars, bruises, stubbed toes, spots, abrasions, boils, abscesses, Clopidogrel-outbreaks, eruptions and Rheumatoid Arthur Itis’s misshaped knees.

The water in the shower was not warm enough to use in the sink, but the hot water from the handbasin sink, was a little more lukewarm, so I had a stand-up wash. Only two dropsies, the toothbrush and a razor. I had to fetch hot water to shave with from the kettle, but luckily I didn’t have any Dizzy Dennis moments, shakes or involuntary Hitler salutes or unwanted Neuropathic Schuhplattler dancing.

I took some black bags to the chute on the way out. I met Olive in the lift, she was on her way to use the new laundry room in Winwood Court. We nattered as we walked along, and I offered my farewells as she went into the washroom. Lovely to see her.

I met Pole-dancer and Warden Obergruppenfùhreress Deana in the Winwood lobby area. I mentioned the lack of hot water. She said she would phone them later, and let me know. I mentioned Josie’s heater not coming warm. She said they will sometimes take 2-3 days to heat up. Also in the lobby, was Roy. In the big room was Malcolm and Welsh William. As we chatted, Angela came through on her way to the bus stop. We all joined her on the hobble (well, Malcolm and Roy are not old enough by far to hobble, so they sped ahead!) to the bus stop. Anklesnappers they are. Hehehe!

I had a change of mind and returned to the flat, so I could tell Josie about the heaters and catch the next bus instead. On the way back to the apartment, the rain was a little more substantial and then stopped altogether.

I pushed the green auto-release button on the fire-door exit out to the seated area and had to shove the door open, to take this picture.

It was a good job I did go back because when I rang Josie’s door chimes, I just caught her getting ready to go out. I explained what I was told by Night Club Dancer and Scharfhreress Warden Deana, about the heaters that can take three days to warm up! It seemed to take a little weight off of her shoulders, and she looked a bit more cheered up. I felt good at being able to assist someone else.

I update this a blog a bit. Sister Jane rang me.

Pete had sent me some photographs from his visit to Goose Fair. For me to put on this blog, along with threats of my being knocked about, my being decapitated, and having Little Inchy chopped off; if I failed to publish them. These threats didn’t scare me! I just happened to think they were decent enough to show… Ahem!

Hang on; “Goose Fair? Spending my money that he nicked and didn’t return, no doubt! – Humph! Grumph and Clapperstoitall!” Hehe!

He gave me an idea what to I might do with one of the photos when I get the time. A good one too! I’ll get it done!

I put away the computer, as I had left it a little late gossiping with Jane, and didn’t want to miss this bus. I got all ready and shot off… well, limped at a decent wobble, to catch the bus.

A damned good chinwag was had with the others at the bus stop. Paul (I think it was) fell asleep on the bus en route. It did me no end of good, seeing someone else nodding off on the bus, instead of me doing it! Hahaha!

The original plan was to call at Tesco to get some more seaweed nibbles. Across the road and halfway to the store, and realised I had come on the late bus! So I turned around and out onto Upper Parliament Street. I watched as the Nottinghamian’s crossed over the pelican lights with the Red-man sign lit! On the green man, I nipped over and down Clumber Street.

The citizenry did not look to be in a good mood this morning. Some hangdog expressions, scowling, dirty-looks and threatening-stares in my direction.

Most people don’t like to be photographed in Nottingham. I suppose, considering the number of illegal immigrants, drug dealers, knife-carrying gang members, shoplifters, muggers, beggars, burglars, car thieves, child-support defaulters etc. we have locally, and the 12% increase in violent crime, it’s perfectly understandable. Hehe!

I got to the end of the road and onto High Street, and walked through the Exchange Arcade. It is a sad walk nowadays. So many closed retailers, so few customers about. On the right, is the new Exchange Barbers. One of the highest-rated according to the Nottingham Post. Even they only had one customer in the shop. And they are reasonably quoted prices: Gents cuts from £14, Students from £12, Boys under 16 from £10. OAP’s from £7, Beard trimming £5. Additional Services: Skin fade £2 (?), Skin fade with foils £3.50 (?), Beards £3.50 and Cut-throat razor £2  (Is that for a shave?). They cater to the younger bloke, I think.

A unit on the other side of the arcade is a unit currently being offered for rent at… £6250 per calendar month! God, how many haircuts and shaves will be needed just to cover the rent? Not to mention rates, taxes, staff wages, insurance etc. Even if they picked the pockets of each customer! Hehe! I wished them all the best!

I left the arcade, and walked down to South Parade, and took this shot on the left, down Exchange Walk. Still no smiles to been seen.

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Towards Queen Street corner, another dangerous, bonkers, antisocial, speeding and weaving through people, Pavement Cyclist tearing about!

He was, I think, a Deliveroo food bloke.

One more ignorant Nottinghammian Pavement Cyclist passed me by as I neared the Council House again, on my way around. I could have taken so may more cyclist shots, but there were too many to keep up with!

I spotted a rare, few and far between, seldom located in real life, infrequently sighted, unfamiliar, thin on the ground, unexpected, eye-opening and momentously-surprising site! A Police Officer on foot, in Nottingham! It didn’t bother him that the do-do of a Pavement Cyclist nearly ran into him. For he was walking with gusto, to someone who had collapsed on Long Row.

An ambulance arrived, and moments later, I think a defibrillator or ventilator was being used on the gentleman. He had already been wrapped in a foil blanket, and within minutes they were loading the sick patient into the ambulance. I hope he or she will be okay. This put me on a downer, and I made my way up Queen Street, to the bus stop. It was getting nippy out there, and the bus was a little late arriving.

But the driver, possibly a relative of Stirling Moss, soon caught up with the time-table.

For a while, I was the only passenger on the bus. Later on, Cyndy and Margaret got on the bus. And I made the faux pas of the highest order, with asking Margaret how Pete was. He passed away, two-weeks ago. I was dumbfounded that I had not been informed. I was feeling so bad now, and I am not sure if I even said I was sorry to hear it. Shaken up! I must have said something because Margaret said a note had been posted on the board. I was somewhat withdrawn after that. I do not do funerals as a rule but would have gone to Petes. He was such a grand chap. CIDP I think got him in the end. I hope the new warden feels guilty, after not checking up on his health correctly a few weeks ago.

I was morose, as I made my way to the warden’s office to see what was what with the no-hot-water situation. Deana had not rung earlier, too busy, but rang straight away. After an inordinately long time getting through, she spoke with someone. Result: They may get here tonight, so I have to stay awake until late to listen for the door chime if it goes off. However, if not, they may come tomorrow afternoon or night. This is going to be a strain on me. I’ve been up since 12:30hrs, as I write this it is 17:20hrs, it is already two hours beyond my usual had-down time. And, I have to stay up until 22:00hrs in case the plumber arrives tonight. In the morning, I’ve to get ready and catch the 0725hrs bus to the After Stroke Physio torture… I mean, exercise class. Until around 13:00hrs, and stay awake and fit enough to do the drilling. This is not going to turn out well! My EQ tells me!

I thanked Deana and got myself back to Woodthorpe Court. A mess in the lift foyer area.

The water from the hot tap was not completely cold. Washing and shaving in the morning might be messy, having to use the saucepan and kettles to get washing and shaving water. If the shower water is hot, I can perhaps use that to get reasonably warm water?

I was all twisted thinking-wise and confused now. Pete and the water farce, oh, dear.

I tried to concentrate on updating this post.

I spent five hours doing it and was fighting what I thought was a losing battle, n trying to stay awake. The door had been left open, in case I do not off and if anyone comes. I couldn’t get a wash, dare not make a meal. Was terrified of falling asleep! Dare not put the TV on, without it had subtitles, and I could watch it without the headphones on and still stand a chance of hearing the door chime.. if it goes off! Will it? Won’t it?

The rain was stopping outside again.

As if I wasn’t already struggling to get enough sleep. I even began to feel sorry for myself. Hehehe! I don’t get many lucky breaks, do I? I’m not blessed with good fortune! It’s not easy being a lifelong accident-prone, cursed, hapless, luckless and anathematised idiot!

I can make a baguette, a German Ham baguette with tomatoes, a Dagwood style with a soft drink – but will I nod-off eating it?

I really have no self-assurance, self-confidence, nerve, or self-assurance arising from an appreciation of my own abilities or qualities. Then again, that’s not surprising, as I have no skills or qualities. Or have I? No, I give up! I’ll get the sourdough in the oven, make a nosh, sit down and find some rubbish on the TV to watch that has subtitles on it, and just do my best not to fall asleep! The complete opposite to what I’ve been doing every night for weeks that is trying to get to sleep and failing… Shurrup Inchcock! Yer going bonkers here! You do know this? (Yes!) Okay!

Made the nosh, and ate it, fighting off the desire and need for a kip!

It was tasty, all the same. Flavour: 7.2/10.

I purposely used an old oven tray, to avoid any washing up. (Cunning that!)

I couldn’t do any handwashing, so the clothes pile up!

The breathing was getting a little difficult now. I  succumbed to the land of nod, somewhere around 21:00hrs. After my being up and about for 21 hours!

A frustrating day of mental mayhem and wretchedness-ridden day.

I don’t handle pressure, worries, failure, criticism, and being spoken down to very well nowadays.

May all my troubles, and strifes, go forth and multiply!