24th December 2019

Finnish: 24 Joulukuuta 2019

22:35hrs: I woke full of guilt at letting down the sweet phlebotomy nurse, Christina, yesterday. I continue not liking myself this morning. Grumph!

I was forced to rise out of the c1968, second-hand, nauseously-beige-coloured, rickety recliner, to make my way to the GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket), for a weak, SS (Short-Sprinkly) wee-wee. As it ended, the sudden urgent demand for the Porcelain Throne arrived. I grabbed the stick and hastened to the wet room. By Jiminy, it was a close call again! But, the evacuation, although it was a tad painful and quick, it wasn’t messy at all, just a few smatterings of blood. Just about what I deserved with my messing Christina about, I thought.

I took both sets of medications, being as I had yet again forgotten to take last night’s. Humph!

With a determination, I set about updating the Monday post. I had an idea for a stand-alone post on the Nottingham Street Art I’d pictured yesterday, so meant to get on quickly… but:

After a long time. I don’t think I got it back on; it returned of its own accord. I typed as fast as my ailments would allow me to…

But:

I was getting frustrated now. So did some CorelDrawing. Then the internet returned. Phew! I got on and finally finished the post and got it sent off. Finally making a start on the new post

Then:

When Mr (well paid) Fries, Liberty-Global Virgin Media came back on a long time later, it was super fast! For about ten minutes! Then I went back to its struggling to keep up!

I pressed on with the photo-funny comment blog. Gawd, it took me hours and hours to get done! But I got there.

It was time to get the ablutions done. I had to get them done earlier than usual, in case the Angel nurse Christina came again, I pray she does. Off to the wet room, then.

But I got sidelined when I took the mug to the kitchen for cleaning, and I got carried away doing the handwashing first. The jammie bottoms, socks and a long-sleeved shirt. I anticipate that the jammie bottom should be dry enough to be moved onto one of the airers by about February next year. Huh! The right hand has lost a lot of strength since the onset of the peripheral neuropathy, then and the stroke. I did my bestest to wring them out, I was not very successful. Still, I don’t think it makes anything worst by trying. That bit of effort I make, might even be slowing things down on the idiopathic neurotransmitter problem?

Well, that was totally different from the last session. I knocked the stuff off of the floor cabinets again, so many things went on the floor! Two little knicks shaving, dropped the toothbrush, carbolic soap several times, the flannel, the shower-head, and all bar fell over getting the trousers on! The sock-glide battle ended up with me getting a few bruises. Pee’d-off Mode Adopted!

I took a photo of my legs, and cannot find the lens cover anywhere now! Still, at least the pins are looking a bit betterer this morning. Arthur Itis. Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, Hernia Henry, Shaking Shaun, Back-Pain-Brenda, and even Saccades Sandra and her oculomotor dysfunction are all being kind to me. Anne Gyna and Dennis are making up for the inactivity of the others, mind. Tsk!

Then I ripped my trousers when I bent down to put the slippers on! Gawd, Blimey!

I began to update this post. 10:25hrs now, no sign of the Blood Angel. So it looks like I’m in trouble again. Oh, dear!

I visited the WordPress Reader. Had to stop when the intercom chimed up. A male nurse had come to take my blood. I didn’t need my EQ to tell me he was not happy. He tooketh the haemoglobin, and I offered him a drinky for Christmas. He chose a Whisky & Coke, half-smiled, wished me happy Christmas and was off. 

I got the things ready to catch the bus to town, to get some replacement trousers.

I didn’t realise it then, but I do now,

I’d forgotten to put the camera in my pocket,

When it dawned, I said Crap and Holy Cow!

How do I get through life? But I stumble through, somehow!

I made my way down and dropped off the bags in the chute en route, and saw the Caretaker Stewart and had a quick natter. Then, along the link-corridor to the warmer Winwood Court lobby and through to the big social room

Where I bumped into Nottingham City Home’s Generalfeldmarschalless Housing Patch Manager/Catwalk-Model, Angela Gould, who twinkled her eyes at me, told me off about something or other, then waltzed away with a taller, younger, better-looking, fitter, cleverer, educated, richer, confident, had his own hair and a full set of teeth, bloke. Who was not wearing hearing aids and could walk without medical aids. Humph! Spit! Hehe!

Spoke with John-Herbert, then made my way out to the bus stop. Mary-Jean, Chrissie, May and many other tenants were gathered, and I had a listen to the gossip and handed out the nibbles. Getting on the L9 to town, and getting out the crossword book after depositing my bottom in a side-saddle seat.

As we arrived in town, I realised that I had not got my camera with me. Crap and Holy Cow! What a pitifully-inadequate, imbecilic, dotty, docile, memory-challenged toss-pot!

I went into the battle-ground known as the Poundsaver Store. I was battered and barged, trod on, shoulder-charged walked into, and nearly knocked over a few times, as the gentle Nottinghamian’s around, cursed and fought each other to get things from the half-empty shelves. It was a shame I went in really. If I had not torn my trews earlier, I would not be in town now! Grumph!

I got to the self-serve tills and came out with various things. Dettol, more Toffifees, Ginster Beef pattie, some eau de cologne, smoked almonds, woolly-bob-caps and orange digestive biscuits. I paid up in cash after the machine refused to accept my card!

I was so annoyed with myself as I saw endless photographicalisationing opportunities I could not respond to, on my way into the Victoria Centre, where the Salvation Army Band were giving it some stick with the Christmas tunes. I risked life and limb to get to the lift to go up to the Victoria Market. The elevator cage went between the first floor, down to the Market level, ground floor (where I was), and down to the car park below. The first few times it came, it was cram-packed and I just waited patiently, while having my ankles repeatedly clouted by pram wheels from behind. Eventually, I got in the cage. But had to up to the 2nd level, all the way down to the car park, and back up where I started, the ground floor, then down to the car park again, and finally to the market level. As I got out, I left to Tut-tutting, and a loudly spoken, ‘Old folks with walkers shouldn’t be let in when it’s so busy” for some unknown reason?

I hobbled to Abdhul’s stall to get my trews. But it was all abandoned now in there, many stalls emptied out. So sad. Abdul looked lonely and depressed when I arrived. And, he only had two pairs of trousers in my size! I’ve used this stall for years, and most trips he would offer a choice of five or six pairs, if not more for me to choose from. Sad times for the lad. I bought them, despite the grotty colours, and then repeated the farce to get back down in the elevator. Shame I can’t manage the escalator nowadays. This time a lady helped me sort out which floor I was on, I had to laugh at my own confusion.

I got to Queen Street and met a lady from our beloved Woodthorpe Court, that lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of space & the spacetime continuum, illusion, delusion, & hallucination! That frequently has only one lift working, most taps are leaking, toilets that take well over an hour to refill after being flushed, blocked wet room drains, windows that are lethal to open, a fire alarm only 50% of residents can hear... oh, I got carried away there, sorry!

The lady and I had a sort of chinwag as best we could en route home. (Hearing problems!) I’ve spoken with the lady a few times. She is a classy woman, and so nice natured and puts up with me well. We exchanged seasonal greetings, as I left the lift.

Got in the apartment and got the things out of the bag and carrier.

I hung the trews up in the window to decrease them a little and added the hand-washed shirt from earlier, which was dry enough to start airing.

The earlier handwashing was not ready, not dry enough yet to move over the radiator. Especially the jammie bottoms.

I got the oven heating up for the beef pastie and chips to be cooked.

Had a look at the TV schedule, and found some things I fancied viewing.

When the kiln had reached 220° I put the McCain original oven chips in to cook. As you can see, there was the odd blighted chip, that needed removing first. I went through the remaining chips in the bag afterwards and found a dozen more of them. As the McCain advert says: ‘It’s no wonder they’re often called the perfect teatime chip’ Hmm? I  wonder if Liberty-Global Virgin Media are connected with McCains? They both might be competition to tell the biggest lies in their adverts? They’ll have to go some to beat Liberty-Global, they are as good as politicians at dishonest, deceitful, false claims!

A proper feast this meal was. Beef pastie, tomatoes, beetroot and a portion of McCain’s blight removed chips. With caramelised onion chutney, wholemeal bread thins and some German smoked Bavarian ham that was just out of date, but tasted fine. Some fresh orange juice for afters. Flavour Rating: 8.4/10, super!

I washed the dishes, had a weak wee-wee, and got down in time to watch the Tremors ‘5’ film, that I had not seen before. The earlier ones I found hilarious, even though they were not meant to be comedies methinks.

The first set of advertisements came on, and I drifted off. Humph! I wanted to watch that one as well! Sulk-Mode-Instigated!