Wednesday 9th October 2019
Sudanese: Rebo 9 Oktober 2019
06:25hrs: As I woke, I had the feeling that I had been in deep thought, or dreaming perhaps, of my sad, pitiable life. Of my funest, catastrophic, deplorable and lamentable existence. I get like this nowadays, when thing go ape-shit or wrongly, due not to my own failings, and I have many. Like with my having no hot water for three days now, no, four! No one can help, for the Nottingham City Homes maintenance team are pushed to the limit. Nobody truly understands the problems with having no hot water has and is causing me. With my medical issues, having to use the kettle and saucepans for hot water, is causing so much hassle and danger, with the peripheral neuralgia and shakes, I am making things worse with the spillages and scolding, and have no hot water on tap to clean things up. No communications about when and if I will be paid a visit from the plumbers. This, in turn, means my already short sleeping times have been ridiculous! Trying to stay awake all day and part of the night, just in case anyone arrives, is causing, even more, sleep-deprivation and doing my health no-good at all… I waffle-well, don’t I? Haha!
As it dawned on me that the humming, droning, grating humming noise from outside was as loud as ever this morning, put me on an even lower band of contentment. It made it worse as I realised what time it was. The Ocado order is due to be delivered twixt 06:00>07:00hrs! Had it been already and I had not heard the door-chime or pathetically low-volumed intercom tune – not that it works all the time of course. It doesn’t. A genuine depression was taking hold of me here! I can’t do the handwashing, using the laundry room is not an option – imagine if the Nottingham City Homes plumbers arrived while I was out. I dare not go out of the flat! Humph! Demoralising!
Thankfully, the usual demand for a wee-wee stopped my inner-moaning. I freed my bulbous wobbly-body from the Xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged while he was flat-sitting, when I was in the Stroke Ward, and he fitted new CCTC cameras, and searched for my valuables, which he found and took, (I still haven’t got them back yet four-months later), £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner, and utilised the GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency Bucket) for a BOBSL (Blasting-Out-But-Short-Lived) mode slash.
Got the hearing aids fitted, and kettle on, and off to the Porcelain Throne. At least that went well for once, no mess and no bleeding.
I had a look outside, from the crumbling-ceilinged new roof balcony. No signs of any Ocado van out there. The hands were shaking again, yet the finger-ends were sensing contact with hard objects.
I also took this terrible effort of a picture on the left. Sad innit?
I got the computer booted up, but before I could use it, the intercom buzzer went off.
I got to the panel, but obviously, someone had let in the Ocado driver before I got to the board. I got the return carriers from junk-room 2.
The driver informed me of substitutes. The Glengettie Gold tea bags were off! The normal Glengettie ones sent. Tsk! But not to worry, although the Gold ones are the best tea available, the others are the second best. No problem, I have enough things to worry about with the will-they, won’t they, maybe, perhaps Nottingham City Homes maintenance plumbers non-arrival. The man put the bags through the door for me, and off he shot.
But, as he went, fortunately, he noticed that I had tied up my braces up on the door handle and was struggling to free myself! The aches and pains from yesterday’s After-Stroke session made it a problem getting my arms behind me to release the suspenders! ‘Arf, ‘arf! It made him smile, anyway, as he threw a look that said ‘I’m glad to get out of here!’ Hahaha! He won’t forget this visit for a long time. I imagine my kerfuffle will be related to other drivers later. The Three Stooges and Will Hay came to mind afterwards.
I got on with the updating at last. But the extra photos again, and the nerveless fingertips made it a long, frustrating and ever-correcting session. It was gone midday by the time I’d got it finished and posted off! Noise from above, which can’t be helped, I know, but the tapping and knocking unsettled me while I was struggling to get the blog done.
I went on the WordPress reader next. Then sent some piccies to Pinterest and the Facebook site.
As I started to do this blog, which needed starting from scratch…
So, I decided to get the handwashing done – carefully! I got some saucepans filled and the kettle for hot water. It was a bit silly, I know, but I washed a long-sleeved shirt, socks, and the jammie-bottoms. How I hope to get them dried is going to be a tough assignment for me to sort out!
I did manage to spill some hot water when I got the shakes. I now have another pretty pink wound on the stomach. Grumph!
I got the heavier clothes rung-out as best I could and hung to dry and drip above the sink. The socks and cleaning cloth, I put on the stand-up airer.
I checked, and Mr Fries internet had come back on, a little slower, but at least it was working again. So I got on with this blog at last.
I did make another mug of tea, though. And took a photograph of the Nottingham City Hospital, from the unwanted, thick-framed, impossible to get to clean, light & view-blocking, new windows.
I did some more work on this blog preparation.
I then got the fragile wobbly frame-airer out, and put the jammy bottoms on it, in hopes that they might dry enough for me to wear them tonight. They will need constant moving on the machine to be successful. But, I expect not. Still, you’ve got to try ain’t yer?
I decided to ring Night Club pole-dancer and Warden, Generalfeldmarschalless Deana. To try and find out some details of the failed-to-turn up Nottingham City Homes plumber. There was no answer first try, I’ll have a go a bit later. Five minutes later, Deana returned my call. She thought it had all been done. She’d ring them and then call me back.
I got on with the diary work. Half-an-hour or so later, I got a ring back from Deana. It seems there has been a cock-up of some sort. They prioritise the calls. They will come sometime today, up to 22:00hrs. I mentioned the lady who had the same problem and found out that hers had been sorted out yesterday! (I can get depressed, and sulk, you know!) Hehe! Wanna bet they come tonight, not this afternoon. Otherwise, how could Nottingham City Homes make my sleep-deprivation worse, or piss-me off effectively?
Ah, well, the wee-weeing has seen a sharp reduction today.
The pulled jackfruit, smoky BBQ, Chilli with corn and beans (What a mouthful!), meal is still on the cards, with all the planned extras to go in it. Black bean sauce, baked beans, sliced tomatoes, balsamic vinegar and basil! I think that is what I put in the last one I had, and found it delicious! But it will probably be late in the evening before the Nottingham City plumber arrives to sort the hot water supply out fro me. At least I now know they will be coming sometime today, anyway. (He says with a modicum of circumspection and mistrust) Hahaha! Of course, when I can get to wash and shave safely and actually eat anything, is in the lap of the Gods… well, the Nottingham City Home plumber, anyway!
I kept stopping to move the jammies into another position on the airer, but the pants don’t seem to be getting any drier at all!
It is already oast my head-down time. And with a day of being active for 20 hours, followed by one of 21 hours, then today’s lesser one of only 13 hours up till now, sleep will be very welcome when and if it comes. I’m not feeling too good now, and yet I cannot take any rest until the chap has been and gone, to do the hot water jobbie… I’m tired and irritable again. But, I dare not nod-off!
So, I went on CorelDraw to make some graphics up. Not that it is easy to concentrate. Tireder and wearying. I gave up on the computerisationalisticalisationing. Hahaha!
I put the TV on, and watched whatever crap had subtitles on, including a Hells Kitchen, and a Police show.
So, once again the promise from Nottingham City Homes of a plumber calling to mend the hot water problem, has failed to mature. Now I am five hours beyond my usual kip-down time! Yet they came out to a flat with the same problem, eho reported it a day later than I did, and they have hot water now? It’s not what you do, it’s who you are? Sadly, I am not one of the in-crowd, obviously!
I got some handwash-drying moved around. During which the silly-flimsy bar airer, colla[sed on me. A burn on the arm, much pain, frustration and anguish in getting it made-up again, and low self-esteem towered over me. And then did some black-bagging. The increase in fatigue made things very awkward. No washing myself tonight, I’m just too incapacitated mentally and physically to cope with the kettle and saucepans of hot water needed. Disconsolateness, dispiritedness, doldrums, dolefulness, and downright-downheartedness, at the delay, doom me to depression! (Damnably clever that, do you like it?)
They (Nottingham City Homes maintenance Team) will not call after 22:00hrs as I understand it, so I can get the meal made and gobbled up now. They must be up-to-the-neck in it, and that is why things are not going as planned? Which doesn’t help in preventing me from injury, pain and depression, when others get the job done for them. Gnash! Gobblediegumps and Sob!
The Soul-Food chilli with extras added as I had planned, was another great experience. Smug-Mode-Engaged! As you can see on the right here, the big bowl was needed, and nearly filled with the feast of vegetarian chilli, black bean sauce, tomatoes etc., and thoroughly enjoyed. Flavour-Rating: 9/10. We’ll see later what it causes the innards to do. Hehe!
I got the kettle and saucepan on the stove and took some photographs of the ever-changing skyline. It took the problems of my being dismissed as unimportant off of my mind for a while.
Then it all came back when I was doing the dishes and saucepan washing. The hand and shoulder did an impression of St Vitus dancing, and I got a tiny burn on the back of the hand, minuscule it was, but it hurt like hell! Another scar, to remind me of the unfortunate incident with the hot water, and how I coped with being put-down and ignored and put at the back of the queue.
I got down in the rickety recliner, blurry-eyed, pissed-off, drained, frustrated and temporarily beyond consolation. Because, how can I be sure that Nottingham City Homes, who have failed on every commitment they have made, was unable to keep me informed, and effectively kept me imprisoned indoors for three days; while they failed to arrive… will come tomorrow? Indeed, if on the half-chance they do ever call, will they be able to solve the issue? Will I top myself with anguish, disgruntlement, infuriation and exasperation, and frustration?