Month: December 2019

Inchcock Today – Mon 30 Dec 2019: Much Kindness was shown me today. And a battering from shoppers. Haha!

1 Dec 30

Monday 30th December 2019

Welsh: Dydd Llun 30ain Rhagfyr 2019

23:25hrs: I woke up, with a feeling of loss, a missing factor, a vague impression of confusing absence of something or other? As I began to manipulate the removal of my sadly overly stomach-burdened body from the recliner, I nervously raised up on my feet, so as to test-out Dizzy Dennis and Arthur Itis’s malignant intentions for the morning. Puzzling for a few moments, and it came to me; I didn’t need the Porcelain Throne on waking up! The Throne demands have been instant on opening my eyes, for around nine days on the trot. (Trot? A suitable word, Hehehe!) I could sense that Dennis was lingering, awaiting his opportunity to attack. But Arthur Itis was in a serene, relaxed mood.

Not bringing in (or needing) the GPEWWB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Wee-wee-Bucket) last night, I went to the wet room for the wee-wee. And, was caught out, after all the weak efforts of the previous few weeks, by the LHNPOS (Long-Hosepipelike-No-Pain-Or-Sensation) wee-weeing that exploded out! The colouration was a shock too. Or I should say, the lack of colour was highly-noticeable! Mmm? I started a sneezing bout afterwards, no connection I’m sure. I bet that went down well with the neighbours, Oh dear! I had to clean up bounced back wee-wee from the jet-like evacuation, and mucus from all the sneezing! It’s a good job I have plenty of bleach and disinfectant to hand.

I got the kettle on, took the medications and then a photo through the unwanted, dislike, thick-framed, light & view-blocking, can’t get to, to clean them new kitchen window.

There was still a bit of the red glow out there from earlier last night. I took it in the ‘Aperture-Priority’ setting. Not too bad. Then I made the brew of possibly the best tea available, Thompsons Punjana (Not to be confused with their Everyday tea, which is like cat-wass!)

I got on with the updating of the stuck-indoors Sunday post. It didn’t take me too take long for two reasons. One, there were so few photographs to use that needed amending. Two, the finger-ends peripheral neuropathy and autonomic nerves were rarely giving me any bother! I could not help going into Appreciative- Smug-Mode!

I made another brew, this time of the superb extra-strong Glengettie tea. I noticed the scene outside had changed a little. The red glow was now gone. Also, when I opened the light & view-blocking kitchen window to take this shot, it seemed to have gotten a lot colder! Brrr! 

A sneezing bout started again! And I dropped the camera lens protector cover, and it rolled with such precision, around the floor straight into the gap between the cooker and the cabinet! Then I could not find the picker-upperer to retrieve it! Gobblesticks and Knackerations!

I checked last night’s handwashing that was hanging up above the sink, and above the Einstein-needed to understand how to operate (For old senile sods like me, this is the last type of heater we needed fitting!) wall storage heater. I suppose that decisions on which to buy and install, depending on back-handers at the top? They really are like the intercom system, just too confusing to use! They have tiny buttons we cannot see or read, let alone risk pressing them. Leaving us with no option but to just leave them on, and feed the greed of the Utility Company bosses? Humph! I got carried away a bit there, sorry.

I moved the handwash clothing around. I and had to carefully put the jammie-bottoms on the much-fell over, bent twisted but still working tubular airer. And have to keep moving them around to get some benefit from the machine. Which in turn helped me find where I’d left the new £15 picker-upperer, as I noticed it hanging on the corner of the airer.  Haha!

Back to the computer, to go on the WordPress Reader, and;

I managed to use the reader, but the TFZer Facebooking was a struggle with everything so slow going. But, after an hour or so, things got up to the average Liberty-Global Virgin Internet Media pace – Slow, but working!

Things of an edacious nature came to mind, and I poddled to the kitchen fridge to see what was available for my morning nibbling session.

I did some more handwashing, done, wrung and hung. Made up some waste bags and one large recycling one, ready to take down with me.

Then went to get the ablutions tended to. Amazing; No shaving cuts, no knocking anything over, and only a handful of dropsies. Self-Congratulatory-Mode temporarily adopted!

Checked the hanging handwashing and moved yesterdays on the airer. Got the coat on, and stopped to have a think about should I go out, or not? The blood nurse is booked for Tuesday, but that was given me by the Doctors Surgery receptionist, who has, like myself, been known to get things wrong before. The day has been a Monday for several weeks. So, I decided to leave it until the 10:30hr bus, and go up to Aldi, where I can get some tinned garden peas with a ring pull opener. However, the walking back down Mapperley Rise, makes me a tad nervous at the thought of it.

I had some treats for the new year for the ILC’s. I decided to take the bags to the chute, then the recyclist bag to the caretaker’s room, and call to drop off the pressies at the Obergruppenfurher’s Interrogation room, then come back and do some updating on this, and catch the bus later. Blimey, me? Making plans? Summat wrong here! Hahaha!

Leaving the flat, I rang Josie’s door-bells, no answer. Down in the lift, dropped off the recycling bag, and through the link passage to the Wardens holding cell office. I didn’t meet a soul en route. The office was locked and unlit. So I didn’t see a Warden either.

Walking with the walker-guide back through the link route, I was surprised to see that the door out to the new alfresco seating area was open?

So, a lack of security for the old folks here! I’ll see if I can find anyone to report it to on my way to the bus, later on.

Getting back in the flat, I rang Josie’s door-bells, no answer. Got in, and almost automatically went for a wee-wee, but, confussingly, there was no need. Haha! I got some updating of this blog done, and Porcelain Throne demand number Two arrived, which is far better than it coming while I was out shopping! On the way out, I rang Josie’s door-bells, no answer.

Closed down and set out again. Down in the lift. The corridor fire escape door was still ajar as I passed by. No one in the ILC’s room. On and through to Winchester Court. Doris and other ladies sat in the foyer. I stayed with them a while, chinwagged, then out to the bus stop. Where I spotted a visit from the Ossifers of the law car parked near the turning island.

Christine, Cyndy… oh, about fifteen of us Winwoodonians gathered. Where more gossiping about nothing and everything took place. Insults exchanged, sarcastic gems noted, and the world was put to rights. Hee-hee! I took a photograph of Winchester Court from the beneath it.

Then a photograph of Winwood and Woodthorpe Courts from the bus stop. The City Bound bus arrived, and only a few of us need it, all the other members of the gang waited for the Sherwood, Arnold and Bestwood L9. The lady driver was kind and waited patiently for me to get settled in the side-saddle seat, and checked if I was all seated before moving off ♥.

The bus ride was only for a few stops. I got off at the top of Sherwood Vale, again the driver was patient with me ♥ . I walked along Woodborough Road (carefully, but no Dizzy Dennis visits), to the Aldi Store.

Not much exercise here then. The place was busy, but not very noisy as it usually is. Maybe some of the shoppers, who walked into me, shoulder charged me, pushed trolleys into me, drove over my foot, etc. were still hung-over? I wished I had a breathalyser I could have produced, for a bit of fun! ” Being in charge of a shopping-trolley while above the legal limit or unfit through drink”? Or maybe, “Careless Shopping (Shopping without due care and attention)”, or “Shopping without Insurance or an MOT”? Hehehe!

But the lack of gossip, laughter or noises from kids was remarkable. So much so, that I checked to make sure the hearing aids were still working?

Not until I had finished over-spending and was putting the items on the check-out conveyor, did Dizzy Dennis arrive! I started dropping things, shaking and went into a semi-vague mode. The tut-tutting began from those in the queue behind. But, the young lady on the checkout was patient with me. She packed some of the things into the bag for me ♥. Thank you

I moved to the packing shelves to sort things out properly. I believed that the dizzies came on at the till, but rearranging the goods, I had bought some things that I can’t remember getting? Anyways-up, I got the things placed for the optimum balance between the trolley bag and the larger carrier bag. Dennis was clearing away as I did this, and I decided not to walk back to the flats after-all. As after checking with my second-hand, charity shop-bought, rusty, £2 wristwatch, with its £10 new strap and £15 battery, I found I had over fifteen minutes to get back to Sherwood Vale, to catch the bus back home. Plenty of time, even for me.

I got to the Sherwood Vale bus stop without any problems, by which time Dizzy Dennis had left me altogether. (Manic-Smile-Of-Relief-Adopted) When I got down the hill to the bus stop, I thought I might have a job seeing the bus arrive. The, oh, so cold sun and vehicles blocked or hindered my view.

Luckily, it was the same caring driveress on the L9. She greeted me like a long lost father! Again she held off pulling away until I was ensconced safely in the side-saddle seat.

Dorothy (I think that’s her name?) was on the bus. She’s got a right load in her four-wheeled trolley and three carrier bags! Hehe! We had a natter on the short trip back and said a farewell as she got off, I went last. The lady driver insisted on putting down the ramp to allow me to walk the trolley off easily, bless her cotton socks. She mentioned how pale I was looking today. I’ll have a look in the mirror later. I thanked her and had a short few words of acknowledgement with Bill and some others waiting to get on the bus. And Bill said: ‘Bloody ‘ell, you look like a ghost!’ Very encouraging! Hehe!

I made my way into Winchester Court, through into Winwood, no one in the Hauptbereitschaftsleiteress’s Warden’s interrogation room. Down the link passage, and noticed the fire-escape entry/exit door to the alfresco seating, was now closed. Through the swipe-door, and there was Oberstgruppenführeress, pole-dancer Warden Deana chatting with tenant Francis. I butted in with some nibbles, and handed the bag of new year treats over. A chinwag, and off up in the elevator back to the flat.

I rang Josie’s door-bells and struggled to get the heavily loaded trolley through my flat door, and Josie appeared at hers. She handed me back the plate and cutlery from her Sunday nosh. I asked her if she enjoyed it, and she said yes! Another mini-victory for Inchcock!

I got in my hallway and took the tray to the kitchen. Then returned for the trolley, and moved it closer to the Chef’s room, to unload. But still no need of a wee-wee?

A fair-sized shop. Cashew nuts, porridge oats, hazelnut chocolate bars for Inchcock, tomatoes, German cooked ham, sourdough baguettes, bread thins, lemon yoghourt, garden peas with ring-pull openers, tuna for Josie’s noshes, caramelised onion chutney, light lemon Greek-style yoghourt.

And for tonight’s nosh, some mushroom pate, that I plan to go on a Sourdough baguette and small cobs, with sliced sea-salted tomatoes, with beetroot and garden peas. Which I set about making. Baguettes and cobs in the oven. I got the other stuff on the plate ready.

When the loaves were cooked, you would have had a right laugh if you could have seen me trying to slice the cobs! The fingers neurotransmitters failed. And combined with the impaired amplitude of Saccades Sandra, within minutes of removing the loaves of bread to the tray for slicing; I had a kitchen floor liberally showered with breadcrumbs. The crumbs were joined by the bottle of Caramelised onion chutney, which left hundreds of bits of broken glass, and I had to contend with a burnt finger from taking the baguettes out of the oven! Oh, and a cut little finger, hardly worth a mention, only a tiny nick, but it bled well. So, splattered blood on the floor, as well as on my clothes, the cooker and the tray! Hey-Ho!

The mess was sort of cleaned up, and I had difficulty in standing up on my feet again after the on-the-knees washing the floor, and glass removal session. I got the meal eaten, good job there was nothing to get cold. Tsk! This what should have been a simple to create feast, but it wasn’t for me, was good enough for a 7.5/10 flavour rating, all the same.

I’d had a lot of patience and kindness shown me today. Off course this had to be tempered with being bashed about at Aldi. Hahaha!

Washed the pots. Found some missed bits of crumbs, did nothing about them. Then I had a look at what was on offer on the TV. Channel 48, Sony, had non-stop episodes of the Persuaders on. That’ll do me I thought and got it up on the set.

For the first four episodes shown, I woke up on average once each! I gave up. Zzzz!

Inchcock Today – Sunday 29th December 2019: Mutating legs, and fantastic nigh sky, nowt else much!

Sunday 29th December 2019

Chichewa: Sabata 29 Disembala 2019

00:00hrs: I woke, and without delay, struggled to get my rhinoceros-like body from the recliner, to get to the Porcelain Throne. Very nearly having a trip over the carpet in my haste, clouting my ankle with the walking stick, but kept my balance with the help of the door frame.

The session was one of the not-so-nice ones. As it has been for the last few days, things moved as soon as I got down on the plastic seat. But, this time, everything stopped part-way. Encouraging further movement, involved a few words like; Eeeya, Asdfghjkl and Argh, with a fair bit of pain! Not messy, a bit bloody, and a system-blocking amount of evacuated product. Phew! I then applied the Corticosteroid Daktacort cream on bleeding Little Inchies fungal lesion, and some Germoloid lotion on the rear-end Harold Haemorrhoids. Washed up and wiped the contact points with antiseptic.

Not a good start! But, at least I didn’t knock anything off of the shelves or cabinets, and no toe-stubbings.

Minutes later, as I was putting on the kettle, the need for another wee-wee arrived, so I used the overnight GPB (Grey-Plastic-Bucket) for a BOBVSL (Blasting-Out-But-Very-Short-Lived) wee. Took the medications and made the brew.

Then, onto the computer to get the updating done of yesterday’s depressing diary. I could sense Dizzy Dennis wanting to give me some bother as I typed, but it may have been Saccades Sandra making things worse? She was also in forces with the neuropathy and autonomic nerves in the fingers, that were playing up and not recognising contact or touch. Not all of the time, just now and then for a few minutes at a time (which was something new). Making typing a hard slog this morning again. So much correctionalisationing to do cost me a lot of time.

I got the blog posted off, then went on the WordPress Reader. I enjoyed a bash at the TFZer Facebooking.

I went to make another mug of tea, noticing how kind Arthur Itis was to me. Got the kettle on, and took two photos from and of the same view, as best I could. I used the light and view-blocking thick window bottom ledge to rest the camera on.

The first one, I took in Night Landscape, and the second in Aperture Priority. I can’t make up my mind which one is the better one. Maybe the Aperture one? But I don’t know. My indecisiveness and wavering vacillations are annoying.

I really must get some more graphics for page headers done on CorelDraw. I got the gone-cold tea replaced, and set to graphicalisationing.

Three hours later, I got just a few done, but I was feeling tired. Josie’s meal to do then as well, that is if she wants it today. She’s not told me she is going out, so I’ll do my Personal Chefing thing again. Tea and bikkies to be nibbled!

Whoops, Porcelain Throne visit first. Another hard, painful session, but no bleeding.

The legs, apart from being back to the pale anaemic-like again, and a little fluid retention, they looked okay.

Back to the Coreldrawing, and spent a few hours more creating January Dedicated day, the same theme for the whole month, but made them up with TFZers and Cyber-mates on each one for a laugh. January is the Alcoholics Detox Month. Hahaha!

I got the oven on a low light for later, and back to the wet room to get the Ablutions sorted. I took the pin’s photo afterwards, and they had a lot more colour than the earlier one did. But then, I’d just had the shower, and the knees had been energetically rubbed with the Phorpain Gel. The light was on too. I’d also taken a sachet of the lemon Macrogol counter-constipation mixture. Rubbed-in Clobetasone and more Daktacort more cream were applied. As for the session, it went amazingly well! A few dropsies and the sock-glide battle was an honourable draw

Plus, I started to do some of the Physio exercises that do not require my bending down. I didn’t want to begin Dizzy Dennis off any worse! I fear the only real Whoopsie happened during the stretch and pull arms-torso lifts. I came back down and clouted the back of my hand on the sink! It made me jump a bit. Grumph! I stopped the physio exercises at this stage! Hehehe! All dressed, and made a cuppa, and on the computer again for a short time.

Just starting on the cooking, and the phone light lit and flashed. It was Sister Jane, who rang to see how I was going. She’d forgotten about my making the dinner for Josie to be delivered at midday each Sunday. Then again, it turned out later, so had Josie! Haha! A quick natter, and back to the cooking, hoping I had not left anything burnable, (faucets) taps running, or heat on that might burn something. I’ll ring her back later to find out what it is I have done wrong, failed to do, or should have done. (There’s always something, with Jane, but she cares, and that’s nice) I’ll ring her back later.

I got back to Josie’s nosh cooking, and then popped to her flat, and asked if she wanted the nosh today. ‘Oh yes, I’m just going in the shower!’ – Me, posh voice adopted: “It will be delivered in about 30-minutes, Modum!” served up. “It’ll only take me five minutes in the shower” she replied. I bowed and curtsied, (I shouldn’t have done that really, started Arthur Itis off in the knees, Tsk!) We both laughed, and I returned to the hovel, cooking and preparing her nosh.

35-minutes later, it was all done and delivered to her door.

I’d added as treats, a can of G&T and Manner lemon wafers. Then a few chocolate coins. But Josie was not answering the door. I went back into my apartment and got the camera to take the above photo. A couple of minutes later, the gal appeared. “I was in the shower!” Ah, well! I explained I’d put too much demerara sugar in the peas, and she had BBQ mackerel and tuna with mayonnaise, and the cheesy potatoes had been made with white cheddar, butter and sea salt, and I thought it tasted nice. She said there was too much. I suggested she just ate what she fancied, I can take any back and get rid of it for you.

She handed me an Asda tray of green salad, I thanked her very much and took it away for later consumption. Hehe! We parted, but I fear her meal by then, was not going to be warm enough. Fingers crossed; she enjoys it.

Back and phoned Sister Jane. We had a chinwag and memories were prompted. Christine, her mam and dad, old Mr Holmes, the hell-hole where we lived. But all of what she was saying did not sink in. Thanks to Dizzy Dennis budging his way in, while we were talking. Blown if I can remember what she said she was having for lunch, yet I can recall thinking it sounded good? Can someone analyse that, please?

The potatoes were browned off a bit longer in the oven. I might not be able to cope with ultra-spicy food, but I do like well-browned cheesy spuds.

I had some beef cobs, roast onions, peas beetroot and the extra-crispy cheesy mashed and roast potatoes. The garden peas that had been over-sugared couldn’t all be eaten, but the other things were okay. Gave this a flavour-rating worth 6.5/10. I’d run out of tomatoes, Humph!

I got the pots washed, with the company of Dizzy Dennis in attendance again. The dropsies began, and somehow, the delicate dropped items, like the mug, didn’t break!

I got the handwashing done. Jammie-trews, long sleeve shirt and socks. All done, wrung and hung to start drying.

Took the medications, got a bottle of orange juice made up, and off to the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner. The one that 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.

Got the TV on, and intended to watch a film. But weariness, old age, and fatigue allowed me to fall asleep, and much-needed it was too! Unfortunately, this was not to be. First, the door chimes rang out, waking me up. I assume it was Josie, wanting to return the dinner accoutrements. Bless her!

A few minutes later, the landline-light flashed, and the bell rang out. Oh, dearie me! I had to struggle to get the limbs back into coordination, put up with the pain and discomfort, but I got free of the recliner, stood up, trod on the walking stick that had fallen oven and I’d not realised… and by then, the ringing of the phone stopped! I’m not the luckiest of senile old farts, you know! Haha!

By now, getting back to sleep was more laborious than doing a treble-cartwheel blindfolded with a broken leg! Well-pissed-of, I decided to make a brew. Extracting my bulbous wobbly-bellied body from the recliner again, painfully I might add; I went to the kitchen to be met with a beautiful view of the sky outside. I stumbled and fetched the camera to take these two shots of it.

Bootiful, impressive! It made me forget the mishaps for a moment or two.

I didn’t bother making a brew after all but spent a while in awe, looking up at the sky.

Back in the recliner, but would sleep come? Would it ‘eck as! Grumph!

Inchcock Today – Saturday 28th December 2019: Dizzy Dennis rampant, unbridled, boisterous and persistent, today. Humph!

Saturday 28th December 2019

Swahili: Jumamosi Tarehe 28 Desemba 2019

23:45hrs: True to recent days form, I stirred in need of the Porcelain Throne. Which was a bit of a surprise, cause I had a large evacuation last night?

Well, I had the same this morning, but bloodier and more painful. I rose steadily from the raised seat, to wash and medicate things, and was so glad to find that the Dizzy Dennis attention had eased off from yesterday.

I went to the kitchen to make a brew, and sod-my-big-mouth, Dizzy Dennis returned. Humph! I was spinning in the head, and Saccades Sandra joined it. Both stayed for an extended visit this time. I struggled to make the tea without dropping anything, but I managed. The mist was forming outside, and I took a photograph of the view, in Night Panorama setting. I was amazed when the fog did not show up in the picture? I wondered if my spectacles had got misty. Hehe!

I got the Friday post updating done, during which a couple of times, the dizzies made me think I would fall off of the computer chair. This is not good! I pressed on and got the job finished and sent off to WordPress. Despite Dizzy Dennis and Saccades Sandra’s best efforts to confuse and deny me any typing ability or mind control! So there, take that Dennis and Sandra! I may be losing it here, I’m talking to my ailments now? Hahaha!

I put the kettle on again, and another summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived back! Oh, dearie me? Off to the wetroom, I limped, carefully, for Dizzy Dennis was in constant company with me now. The evacuation was another monster of a job, but less bleeding and pain this time with it. At least the pins (legs), had lost there yellow colouring, gone back to the pale-mode. Also, they looked all calm Clopidogrel and vein-wise. So, all is not bad.

Back to the cookhouse room, to make my tea, and take the medications. The attentions of Dennis were persistent throughout. At times I was like a toddler hobbling about holding on to the stick and cupboards, doors anything soli. In my fear of going over. 

It dawned on me, that the wee-wees were lacking this morning? Of course, as soon as this came into my mind, I needed one! And what different mode this one was. Had to create a new anacronym for it. This suits it; SBTSDWS (Started-Blasting-out-Then-Stopped-Dead-Within-Seconds). Barely a single drip followed afterwards either! Like a tap had been turned off. Something’s going wrong with the innard’s organs today? And as for Dizzy Dennis, he’s never been busier! Tsk!

I went on the WP Reader. Some great stuff published. Then I went on the TFZer Facebooking. During the Facebook session, ‘The Hum’ sounded louder, and almost like falling water? I got carried away, and spent four hours on Facebooking! Tsk!

Dizzy Dennis is still with me, although I think he is easing down a tad, I haven’t had a dose of dizziness now, in over three minutes! Humph! I got all mixed up when Facebooking trying to concentrate.

I’ve got sudden phagomania now. I must have a look for something to eat for a late breakfast, but abstemiousness will be needed. I had the last of the pork pie and buttered milk roll with beetroot, apple and meat sticks, with caramelised onion chutney. It was enough for me not to need a proper meal, although this was as big as one. Went down well! 7.2/10 for flavour-rating. 

But suddenly, I was not feeling good at all. Dizzy Dennis and Hazy Hazel. So, I’m closing everything off and getting sat down to try and clear Dizzy Dennis, and my mental doldrums.

I’ll be back. I hope!

I sat there, wallowing in self-pity for hours trying to get to sleep. A sad old git, with lack of mind control and Dizzy Dennis, was dominant, even when I laid back in the £300 second-hand, c1968, recliner, in search of shuteye, rest or dormition. After what seemed a week, I nodded-off! I’m afraid I didn’t make it back to the torment of life, until 00:00hrs.

Inchcock Today – Friday 27th December 2019: Ah, Chinwagging returns. Yipee!

Friday 27th December 2019

Zulu: NgoLwesihlanu 27 kuDisemba 2019

00:30hrs: I woke with the usual for the last few days, desperation for the Porcelain Throne! I bruised the leg getting out of the recliner with such haste (I was not going to let another accident happen like last week if I could avoid it!) I got there in time, but only just. An even bigger evacuation today! But no mess, and only a bit of bleeding, that I think came from Harold’s Haemorrhoids, so nothing to fret over. And, far less pain than yesterday. I washed and disinfected things, and feeling a tad-smug, I poddled to the kitchen.

I got the medications imbibed, and made brew of flavourful Glengettie tea. Then pressed on with the updating of the Thursday post. Which cost me a few hours (6). The photos I’d taken in Winwood Court yesterday, and the lack of concentration (the brain was jumping all over a failing to concentrate) being the main causes. The finger’s and right-side neurotransmitter transmissions to the brain were working reasonably well this morning. Another possibly over-confident Smug-Mode adopted.

I went on Facebooking with the TFZ Zone. Answered a comment. And put some pictures from the Winwood Court session on Pinterest and Facebook.

Made a brew and took the medications. Back to the computerisationing, made a start on this blog.

Then off to get the ablutions tended to.

The pins (legs) had gone almost yellow! Hehe! I think it must have been the colouring in the wetroom that caused this. Or the camera was set-up wrongly, or I was losing it.

Did some handwashing, done, wrung and hung. Took some gags to the waste chute. Got wrapped up and ready to go out. Had a panicky double and treble checking everything before leaving the flat.

Took some jars for recycling down with me, and met Steve, the caretakers at his door outside. We had a minute’s chinwagging. Then I poddled to the bus stop, and Cyndy joined me en route. As anticipated, a large gang of Winwoodonians were there. Jean-Mary, Penny, Chrissie, Joan, Welsh William, Big Pete etc. were chatting away.

I caught the Bestwood bound bus with a few others, all of them got off in Sherwood, apart from Jean-Mary and me. We had the usual hit & miss talk en route into Arnold.

We both went into the Asda (Walmart) store. I was suffering from Dizzy Dennis’s attentions, and staggering about a bit, but pressed on, arriving later at the self-serve checkout. I noticed a new checkout system had been built, title Swipe & Go? I came out with vine tomatoes, wholemeal bread rolls, a milk roll loaf, two yoghourts, milk and cox’s apples. A lot of the food had gone up in price. Suddenly, the already costly £1.30 cobs were £1.35, the yoghourt had gone up, and I noticed many other goods on the shelves had increased in price?

I paid up, left and made my way to the Fulton Foods shop. Where I spent a bit more on; sterilised milk (2), beetroot (2), Galaxy darker-milk chocolate bars with hazelnuts (8), Battered fish fingers and fishcakes (The meal for tonight?), and cooked beef misshapes £1.

I paid the depressed-looking lady on the till and got the trolley bag filled and two carriers, one on each handlebar, evenly balanced. Which was a lot more than I was. Then Shaking Shaun joined us, the right leg and arm. This mad pushing the trolley to the bus stop an exciting event. Going over the pedestrian crossing, the shakes made me stop for a few seconds, or I would have tumbled over had I carried on, luckily no traffic was around at the time.

I arrived at the bus stop, and Jean-Mary was sat in the shelter with her trolley. The first thing she said was: “Yo’ alright? yer don’t look too good?” She was right. I didn’t fell up too much at all. The journey on the bus back to the flats memory is a little thin. I’m sure I was nattering to someone as well as Mary-Jean, but can’t think who. Then I do remember waking up several times and nodding off again. Hehe!

Even the walk from the bus back to the flats and apartment is a little vague.

When I got inside, I do recall struggling to get the three-wheeler through the door, then my recollections become more distinct. Even though, Dizzy Dennis and peripheral neuropathy leg were I felt, warming up for a Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance (I was wrong, it didn’t).

Taking out the food to put away, I got the oven on and put in some fish cakes, then, ten minutes later, added the battered fish fingers, to ensure they would be cooked ready at the same time. Heated the peas in the saucepan, made up some milk Roll tomato sarnies, sliced apple and beetroot on the plate. I made up a bottle of spring water with a little added orange cordial.

The landline sounded and flashed, so I answered it. It was Sister Jane, asking if all was okay. She couldn’t get through to me earlier and rang Warden Deana. The mobile phone battery has had its chips, so she could not get through to me on that. Good of her to worry about me, bless her cotton socks.

Served it up, and feasted fervently!  A decidedly worthy taste-rating of 7.5/10 given for this effort.

I cleared things away and did the washing up, and as I got settled down to watch some TV, I had to suddenly visit the Porcelain Throne. For, in a word, a ‘Ginormous’ evacuation.

The pins looked almost normal! These photographs of my ever-changing legs, really ought to be on display in the Tate gallery you know! Hahaha!

The TV kindly did its thing quickly tonight.

Zzzz!

Inchcock Today – Thursday 26th December 2019: Didn’t see a soul all day, again! Hey-ho!

Thursday 26th December 2019

Icelandic: Fimmtudaginn 26 Desember 2019

23:35hrs: I woke up, probably instigated by Shaking Shaun in the first place. He continued to give me the shuddering-shakes for a few minutes, as I tried to grasp for a grip on some sanity. The awareness and control of my contumacious, recusant and largely uninterested mind, fought against any more input.

As the shakes became manageably calmer, a beseeching call to the GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket) arrived. I mused on how terrible a day yesterday was for me (Self-pity sneaking in there again? Tsk!), and took an SSBDKWTSD (Short-Sharp-But-Didn’t-Know-When-To-Stop-Dribbling) Wee-wee. While waiting for the dribbling to stop, I realised that once again, the big three, Duodenal Donald, Arthur Itis and Anne Gyna, were all acting calm for me. Smug-Mode-Adopted! Little inchy eventually stopped his trickling, just as the urgent call to the Porcelain Throne came.

Unfortunately, I tripped over the walking stick as I turned to make my way to the wet room! This being my own fault entirely, as when I dropped the stick on the floor last night, getting into the recliner, I was so low and pissed-off, I thought, Sod it! And I left it there! Justice was done! I got myself up on my feet again with some effort, and muttered some silent, self-denigrationalistic and naughty words, tutted and got myself to the WC post haste!

The session’s leading descriptive words would be; Massive, Painful, Solid, Flesh-tearing, Bloody and yet quick! The colossal amount of evacuated product was the most surprising factor. I’ve had only half-a-pork-pie in the last 39 hours (Just not hungry? Mostest peculiar for me), and visited the Throne last night getting rid of a right dollop, and now this torpedo of considerable size has come this morning? Ah-well, I’m glad it’s gone! The volume was so much, that again the system didn’t clear things the first flush. With this loo taking 40 minutes to refill the tank, I’ll nip back later and give it another go.

I got the computer on, Virgin was working, slowly, but working. I answered some comments (1), from Bill in the USA. As I was doing so, the neuropathy and autonomic nerves in the arm, fingers and hand played up, and I must have lost control altogether, cause somehow I’d made this comment go to ‘Spam’? No idea how I did it. But I could not get it back, I went into Comments and okayed it, but it didn’t show on the list? I think I got to answer it in the end, it was about toe stubbing.

I had a sneezing bout, passed wind, and needed the bucket again. But I needn’t have bothered for it was a DAAOJ (Drip-And-All-Over-Job!) Then I set to updating the gloomy, sad Christmas Day blog. It took me a few hours, and I didn’t need a wee-ee or the Throne all the way through!

I did afterwards though, well, a wee-wee. I went to the WC for this one, taking the bucket with me, to be emptied and disinfected.

I took a shot of the pins (legs) when I got back. They were rather pale compared to yesterday. The Deep vein Arterial Thrombosis, Varicose and spider veins and blood papules all seemed less protruding, too.

I went on the Email and had received one from Sister Jane. This clarified what xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete had been diagnosed with. It is Follicular Lymphoma. I looked it up: is a type of non-Hodgkin lymphoma (NHL). It develops when the body makes abnormal B-cells – the lymphoma cells. B-cells are white blood cells that fight infection. The lymphoma cells usually build up in lymph nodes, but FL can start in any part of the body.

Another description I found was: (Blood Cancer) Follicular lymphoma (FL) is typically a slow-growing or indolent form of non-Hodgkin lymphoma (NHL) that arises from B-lymphocytes, making it a B-cell lymphoma. This FL is the most common sub-type of low grade (indolent-otiose) lymphoma and accounts for 20 to 30% of all NHL cases.

So, I can understand Jane and Pete being a little more content now. Marvellous news!

Back to the blogging work, and got the 25th’s post sent off to WordPress. Not many pictures on it, but I sent them to Pinterest.

I made a start on this publication and then nipped back in to try flushing the WC again. It seems to have cleared the Dongfeng-41 (DF-41, CSS-X-10) ICBM sized evacuation for me. I took a photo of the pins while I was in there. Still the same, pale but with fewer lumpinesses, and far less varicose and spider veins showing.

The work of the Age Concern Assured Quality decorator can be seen in the background on the door. I’m so glad I believed them and used this bloke! Reassuring to have Age Concern UK to help you. Humph!

I then went on to the WordPress Reader. Got a message from Tim in New Mexico and replied. It made me laugh out loud! Then I went on the TFZer Facebooking page. Then turned everything off, and tended to the coenaculous fancies, and I  had a nibble, buttered two wholemeal cobs and ate them with the last of the pork pie and a cuppa.

Black bags were taken to the chute. Carpet cleaning duties.

Off on an ablutionisationing mission. Which was erm… interesting to say the least. With the polyneuropathy neurotransmitters, which had been acting so infrequently up to now, I was caught out with their sudden loss of insensitivity to touch, and a record amount of dropsies were the result. Razors, shaving cream, toothbrush, mouthwash bottle, flannel, carbolic soap, loofa, nail brush, towels to name just a few! And the sock-glide battle must have taken me longer than it took to pick the cotton and make the socks! No injuries, though. Still, I didn’t mind, for today I planned on visiting the Winwood Court rooftop, and meeting someone to talk to.

I got ready, and off I poddled with the new three-wheeler, the one with lousy brakes, on the new Winwood Court photographicalisation walkabout. I took a snap of the electronic notice sign outside the lift, catching it just as the picture message was changing. The light rain stayed on all day.

The main noticeboard I perused.

No Dizzy Dennis or Shaking Shaund visitations up to now, and that thought brought a smile to my moustached, pot-marked treble-chinned face! Haha!

I went through the swipe door, into the welcoming warmth of the Winwood Court link corridor.

I still haven’t been on the alfresco seating benches outside since it was built. The weather has not been kind, but, if I last long enough, I hope to sit out there doing my crossword puzzles, with a flask of tea in the sunshine. This made me wonder, ‘Where did I put the flask? I hobbled on through the tellurian-free link passageway, into Winwood Court proper, keeping an eye out for any other tenants to trap and chinwag with. Hehehe! I went through to the big social area where the kitchen is, that is always popular with the Winwood Heights residents. I thought about Mo, who’s in the hospital, and pictured her smiling face. This lowered my spirits a little. There were no people about in there either. I went back out into the Winwood lobby, and got in the elevator, going up to the rooftop level and the amazingly warm, snug social area. I took a picture in the lift as it went up. It was heartwarming to see the facilities provided for the extra-care residents. They also have a podiatrist on-site visits as well.

The elevator had a voice alert messager that is loud enough for most people to hear. The mechanics are silent when the lift moves, no shuddering and scraping noises like Woodthorpe Courts lifts either. As I exited the lift, into the wonderful Sky Lounge, I took this photo. It really is a delightful autonomous environment and comfortable area to visit. Not that anyone was in there again. It was so clean and attractive; but abandoned, unwanted and ignored by those it was built for. I have only seen two people, at the same time, on all my six visits since it was opened. Then, I remembered what time of year it was, I’m quick sometimes. Hehe! I moved towards the press-button exit door, but I diverted to take a snap of Woodthorpe Court through the window first.

A lot of the gang will be visiting family, or away on holiday, so there is little chance of seeing anyone in Winwood or Woodthorpe Court today. But I still hope to get a little nattering in if possible. I moved out into the drizzle on the Rooftop Terrace and took piccies of the still blocked and leaking drains on the roof.

I pictured Winchester Court at the end of the complex. By then, the rain was soaking into my coat, so I returned back inside out of the light, soak-you-through rain.

The ailments were being good to me, as I went down in the warm, non-shuddering, working lift (As opposed to the Woodthorpe lifts, Hahaha!). As the doors opened on the ground floor into the lobby, I exited and took these photographs of the extra-decorated lobby.

I hobbled along the link-passageway towards my beloved Woodthorpe Court, that lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of the universal ozone & the spacetime continuum, illusion, delusion, & hallucination-ridden apartment. With its leaking taps, dodgy flushing WC! and finger-trapping metal spring, balcony window openers.

Not a soul was encountered on my lonely little lethargic solo photographicalisationing sojourn! Ah, well! Has the world come to an end? Nowt about it on the internet! Hehehe! Through the swipe door, into the cold foreboding Woodthorpe Court lift lobby.

On the notice board, I saw this poster. The last Tuesday of every month, it seems, that the ILCs (Independent Living Coordinators) will be available, hanging on the noticeboard in the lift lobby (here?), to discuss any issues? Haha!

I observed, that the Christmas tree was no longer at the end of the lift lobby? So I had a poddle around into the entrance lobby in a search for the tree.

Ah, there it was.

Underneath the hanging from the ceiling electric cable, in the back corner of the lobby.

I went to get the lift, and Anne Gyna started giving me a bit of bother.

Up and back to the flat, and for some reason, I felt all-done-in? No reason for this? Mmm!

I got the handwashing done, wrung and hung as the pasties heated up in the oven. I went into the wet room…

Jane & Pete in their front room (Haha!)

The landline light lit and flashed. It was xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete. He complained that I had got things wrong about his B-cell lymphoma cancer. I was admonished for writing 2,500 other people are sufferers, it was 250! He did not want his exclusivity to be questioned and wanted to know why I had got it wrong. I told him I had already written a bit on today’s blog, correcting things. But he was not happy about it! I mentioned how does he always, but every time, call me when I’m having a phoo, shower, shave, sleeping, cooking or on the floor cleaning up when he calls me. I jokingly said; Are you still using the home-made drones before ringing? He laughed maniacally, I heard him spit, then he replied, “Yes, and the clandestine CCTV cameras wot I fitted!” Hahaha!

He dropped his tea, at the same time as I thought I’d left the tap running. I said ‘I’m off to check’ and he’d gone when I got back. I rang back and we had a chinwag.

I got the nosh prepared and served up. Cheesy spud-mash, beetroot, garden peas with demerara sugar and the mini beef pasties.

This went down a treat, despite my battling to stay awake while eating it all. Well, all bar one of the beetroot’s that was hard, like a ball-bearing! An 8/10 Taste-Rating.

I did the washing up and had an INHBBT (I-Needn’t-Have-Bothered-Barely-Trickling) wee-wee. took the medications. Got changed and into the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner, to watch a movie on the TV.

It started, it was crap, I fell asleep, and stayed akip for six hours! Great! No wee-weeing or Procelain calls, no nocturnal nibbling, no noises to wake me up and no dreaming to bother me, as far as I recall! Very appreciated and welcome!

Zzzz!

Inchcock Today – Wednesday 25th December 2019: Dysphoria reinged today. Tsk!

Wednesday 25th December 2019

Norwegian: Onsdag 25 Desember 2019

23:50hrs: I woke, pondered, tried and failed to get the mind functioning, passed-wind and realised (as is so frequent at my vivification times lately), the need for a wee-wee was my expergefactor. I roused the brain then the body, the body was the easier of the two to inspire into semi-life. Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna and Duodenal Donald were all taking a break, which cheered me a bit. You wouldn’t believe the ease with which I got out of the second-hand, £300, c1968 recliner! The right peripheral neuralgia leg was giving signs of a possible upcoming involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance routine. The tiny twitches were the signs.

I got to the overnight well-used, but I can’t remember doing so bucket. Another half-hearted, but slightly painful evacuation, of the PWWDIB (Pathetic-Weak-Why-Did-I-Bother) mode.

While waiting for the dribble to terminate, I mused over the situation. If after five minutes of non-stop passing, I’d managed only a couple of fluid ounces; then how many times had I needed to get up and to have utilised the GPWWB overnight, to find it so full now? And, why do I not remember waking, getting up, wee-weeing, and getting my grossly-stomached body back in or onto the rickety recliner? Mind you, I did wonder why I found that I’d had left the walking stick on top of the clothes airer?

No tea-making this morning, I washed out and disinfected the bucket and returned it handily near the computer, and got the computer on to update the Tuesday blog. But my concentration was not good this morning at all. The neuropathy and autonomic nerves in the arm and hand were not playing up much, more the shoulder at the moment, but things can change. It’s the brain causing the aggro.

After about an hour of updating, the usual sudden and urgent need for the Porcelain Throne arrived! I was not going to risk any delay, after the other day, so, I grabbed the stick and moved towards the door. Two or three supported paces and Arthur Itis came to life with a vengeance! Everything changed, the pain was chronic and stiffness too. But I had to get to the Throne at all costs. I limped on to the wet room.

No messing, dressing gown thrown off, PP’s down and got seated. Apart from the oversized amount, things went well. Hardly any bleeding, and what there was looked like it was from Harold’s Haemorrhoids. Minimum pain as well. It was as good a session as could be expected. But the system did not clear things when I flushed it. So, hand filling the water box, I got it ready to go again, and this time it cleared things. Phew!

I got some fresh PPs on and noticed the old ankle ulcer wound was looking a bit lively if that is the word. A lot more colour in the pins as well. I got the camera and took a snap of the legs. On closer inspection, the ulcer didn’t seem so bad after all. The damned scary to look at thrombophlebitis and the deep vein arterial thrombosis (phlebitis) was getting prominent again. I got the Phorpain gel and gave both knees a jolly-good massaging with it, I’ll take an extra Codeine 30g as well.

It’s funny how easily and quickly things it can change from day-to-day. The blood papules and Clopidogrel maculations don’t seem to bad. When it came to me putting this picture on many hours later, I thought I might have a new ulcer coming underneath the old one? This may shortly mean a visit to the Anticoagulation Haemostasis Deep Vein Arterial Thrombosis Clinic, a mouthful, but I love typing it for some obscure reason. Hahaha!

Then, as I was washed and about to leave the wetroom, and it’s even harder for me to believe, but I spotted the camera lens cover that I had searched in the wet room for, four times to find last night! This is also worrying. Let’s look back over the last week, at the cock-ups from Inchcock. No, I’d better not, I feel an inefficacious, inferior, inefficient, inept, insalubrious idiot in life, as it is. No need to make myself feel even worse than I already do.

I spent many hours on the computer, making many errors, mistakes and correctionalisationing so often, it drove me mad.

Then, I had a visit from both Dizzy Dennis and Shaking Shaun, and that was the end of any rememberable events, as I settled for a sit-down and recuperative rest. Where I stayed for several hours, not being able to sleep due to the shakes of Shaun, and no chance of logical thought, thanks, Dennis!

I was just feeling ready for sleep as Shaun was easing off, and the landline flasher burst forth. I knew it had to be xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete, who else would know when to call at the optimum time to annoy me! I’m still convinced that when he damaged the recliner, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward, that he fitted new clandestine CCTC cameras. He searched for my valuables, which he found and took. I got a bit of them back seven-months later, he had deposited some in his bank account for ‘Safe Keeping’, pawned some of the old bank-notes, and gave many of old coins to his favourite charity (?).

My part in the conversation was acataphasia-ridden, and with the brain not taking everything in, this is only a sketch of the conflab we had; Yesterday, the lad went to the hospital for his test results. NAL diagnosed (the final and longest section of the small intestine. It is attached to the colon). Ilieum Inftona (the third portion of the small intestine, between the jejunum and the caecum). It is slow-growing, and the doctors plan to do a yearly check on his colon. Which is not bad considering what it might have been. The thing that actually pleased the nihilist, was when they told him there were only 240,000 sufferers in the country. That’s done it! As if Pete needed proof of his individuality and Specialness! Hahaha! I was pleased for him, you’ll probably read in the Nottingham Post or hear on Radio Nottingham soon, Nottingham Man with a rare disease offers TV reporters a special-interview rate (£50 an hour) and tours around his home! (£55 plus VAT and £5 fro a cup of tea) Sorry, Pete, I couldn’t resist that!

My appetence for sleep was even stronger when I got back down in the recliner. My insomnia probably came from my nocturnality? Yet I did not actually feel too tired, just drained, depressed and a smidge of self-pity.

At least this Christmas Day I’d got a phone call; I’d not seen or spoke directly with anyone of course, but this is perfectly normal, and I don’t think affected me low spirits at all. Then the facinorous ‘Thought-Blasting’ came again. Then Shaking Shaun returned to join Dizzy Dennis, at least this stemmed the flood of confusing fears, worries, regrets and self-justifications and vindications. But still no chance of any sleep, so I turned on the TV, to pretend to be a normalish person, and watch the traditional holiday film of Dicken’s, A Christmas Carol, with Alastair Sim as Scrooge. I’d watched it, I don’t know how many times since it was first made in 1951, but annoyingly I stayed awake all the way through! Humph!

Dizzy Dennis and Shaking Shaun continued to batter my oleogustustic body. Sleep resisted my efforts. I’d been up for around fifteen hours now. Bored, missing my chinwags and hobbles, generally feeling crestfallen, dejected, down-in-the-dumps and so annoyed at myself for some reason, or reasons!

I felt the need for the Porcelain Throne come on. Which, considering that all I’d had to eat was my traditional Christmas day very-large piece of pork pie all day? Out of the recliner, it was dodgy getting to the wet room, thanks to Dennis and Shaun. I then spent I don’t know how long, sat on the Throne, waiting for the action to start. I did my best, grunting and grimacing, had a go at the crossword book. Eventually, I gave-up, feeling trepidation, frustration and absumption. Had a wash, and weakly, I hobbled back to the recliner.

Dropping the stick as I sat down, stubbed my toe against the recliner’s metal foot, and wanted to cry. But I didn’t. Instead, I left the stick where it had fallen, plumped onto the chair, I silently cursed life, and tried to nod off to sleep, again. Futility came to mind, accompanied by an acceptance of the situation?

The stinging from the middle toe demanded some relief, so I rubbed in some of the Phorpain gel and then dropped the tube from my fingers as the finger-end neurotransmitters failed. I used the handily placed on the other seat kitchen towels, to wipe up the gel from the seat cover, floor my stomach and legs. Of course, bending down to get the gel off of the carpet, merely set-off Dizzy Dennis again, who had been calm, as the stubbed toe replaced him in the urgency stakes.

Depression and exasperation reigned, mangling their way deeply through, into my grey-cell box.

I hope for a better day, tomorrow.

Inchcock Today – Tuesday 24th December 2019: Trousers split, almost lethal trip to get some more. Hehe!

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!

Nottingham’s Street Art with badly rhyming daft comments

Coffee Storage Area Queen Street, Nottingham

Nottingham’s Street Art

With chronically badly rhyming, daft comments

 

Swann’s Yard, off Long Row,

Has it been cleaned, if so, long ago,

The rats were running, to and fro,

The smell meant I soon had to go!

 

Queen Street, near the L9 bus stop,

Rubbish, waste, decaying food,

Wrappers from Bird’s cake shop,

Not really art, dirty and so crude!

Use it as a ‘Don’t Litter sign’ backdrop?

 

Ah, low windows on which to rest your weary bum?

Street-sleepers can watch the diners eat and suck a thumb?

Artistically, it has little worth,

It’s not worth a lot, but down to earth,

The Tate might buy it, they show other scum!

 

The famous rock hardened Nottingham chewing gum on show,

The Council can’t get it off of the floor you know,

People are still dropping it, though!

It won’t come off, I’ve had a go!

Petrol, bleach, I even tried a Brillo,

Chewing gum and a proper fork too!

Likely stolen from a restaurant,

Perhaps the Foo Man Choo?

They’ll take anything they want,

These Nottingham Street Artists do!

 

This is a waste bin on the pavement edge,

Around on the floor, a pastie, nub-ends, and a potato wedge,

A bit of onion, and some phlegm and spit,

I don’t like this one a little bit,

I suppose it’s been done by kids at the college?

 

The entrance to a Long Row store,

The artwork here is pretty poor,

I see there is no chewing gum on the floor?

But below, you’ll see some more!

Roll-up nubs, chewing gum and escaping fluid,

Simple, neat, by a King Street Druid?

Or a drunken phone addicted kid?

Columbidae Columbiformes Columbimorphae Aves, made?

Pigeons, it’s not, though their phoo is the same shade!

Back to Queen Street, where there’s real Street Art again,

My enthusiasm is beginning to wain,

Cleaning this up is such a pain,

The culprits should be slain!

Mind you, Brexit is a bigger problem and stain!

Inchcock Today – Monday 23rd December 2019: Judicious self-recrimination rampant!

Monday 23rd December 2019

Hungarian: 2019 December 23, Hétfő

22:30hrs: I stirred, I involuntarily passed wind. Then sneezed, which seemed to move things along in the innards, and found myself suddenly in need of the Porcelain Throne!

With growing urgency, I fumbled to get my onerously overweight oxen-like, but wobbly torso from the recliner. Caught my balance, grabbed the stick, and limped precariously to the wet room.

But oh, dear! I didn’t make it in time! Red-Faced, I went into an SSE (Shamefaced-Sheepish-Embarrassed) Mode! I don’t want to dwell on this, just think squashed-black-beans, escaped before I could get seated. Once down on the plastic, I noticed a couple of the ‘black beans’ on the floor! Toes curled, winces, were winced, and fingers pinched at the shame of it! The evacuation began, and stalled part-way again! I had to apply painful pressure, helped by a few muttered exclamations like argh, eek, Ooohoho!, args, and Glory-Be! The shame of it! I initially blamed my taking the Compound Macrogol Oral Powder Sachet last evening. But I don’t know.

After things started moving again, the relief was blessed! The system coped well with the flushing. Then I got on with the cleaning and medicating. I was almost so worn-out afterwards, I felt like going back and getting my head-down again! Humph!

I shuffled to the kitchen and put the kettle on. As I got the medications out, I decided falteringly about taking Marogol anymore, but not with any conviction.

I took a morning, zoomed-in picture of the roads and light on view. When I got around to uploading this, I realised what a mess I’m made of it. Not the part of the picture I intended to take at all, blurry, horrible effort too. Huh! What a start to the day! I’m now scared to, incapable and getting dangerous in using the Porcelain Throne. Found out I am a useless Herbert at photography. I have just spotted that I missed taking the evening medications! My confidence is now at a low ebb, I’m enfeebled, reticent and despondent. And I’ve only been up for less than two hours or so. Grumble-Sodit-Blast!

I made the tea, took the medications with me to take later, at the computer, and made a start on updating the Sunday blog. Then, before I’d made a start, the wee-weeing belatedly started! I think I may have worn out the carpet and walking stick rubber end today, taking so many four-step treks to and from the GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket)! Haha! Every one of them of the torrential then faltering BTTTFA (Blasting-out-Then-Tricklling-For-Ages) mode!

I pressed on getting the updating done. (In between Wee-weeing and making cups of tea, I have a hellish thirst on me today?) I hope this eases, so I can get out. Finalised the blog and sent it off. Then I went on the WordPress Reader. Facebooking on the TFZers next.

I turned all off, then I tended to the ablutions. And an excellent, limited dropsies session it was, too! As I can recall, only the toothbrush and a few razor dropsies suffered! Swank-Mode-Adopted!

The pins (legs) were looking much betterer, and the fluid retention had gone down a lot, too. Double-Smug-Mode-Adopted!

Oh, by the way, there was no toe-stubbing either!

But, I totally forgot about the Haematology Nurse Christina coming today. When I got home from town later and saw her note put through the door, I felt so disgusted with myself, you wouldn’t believe it! Crabs and Grobblecraps! I seethed with frustration, self-hatred and the most infuriating disgruntlement! So much so, that Duodenal Donald kicked off giving me a lot of deserved discomfort! Spit!

I  got all warmly dressed. Checked the flat for anything missed, not done, or done that shouldn’t have been, taps (faucets), lights, oven, heaters etc. and got the three-wheeler walker guide, and off I trundled. I took the black bags to the waste chute on the way out.

Down in the lift, and along the link passage into Winwood Court. (It’s lovely and warm in there). I called in the ILC (Independent Living Coordinator) Warden’s Holding Cell, and Interrogation office handed out some nibbles. As I was leaving, Mary (Jean), was coming through on her way to the bus stop. So I asked her if I could take a snap of her. I did, next to the seasonal tree in the lobby, getting a charming smile for my efforts. We walked through the Social room and link passage out of Winchester Court and to the bus stop.

I handed out the nibbles and had a laugh and exchange of insults and put-downs with the folks in the shelter. It was much needed, this bit of socialisationing, cheered me up. It might have bored the others, though. Hehe! Mary, Cyndy, Chrissie, Mabel and the others, seemed to be happier this morning. I got the nibbles issued. As I saw the others (Angela and Roy, Brain and Joan) who had been waiting in the Winchester Court lobby, coming out, I took these photographs. I was walking about and in circles, cause I could feel Arthur Itis stiffening and had the sit on the bus Side-saddle seat to tackle.

The buses arrived, Jean was going to Arnold, but I got on the City-bound L9 and firmly ensconced in the corner side-saddle seat. Got the crossword book out, and was amazed at how many of the unfinished puzzle clues I got en route! So many of the answers I really should have understood earlier, or the first time around. The ride was not relaxing though, this new three-wheeler walker has terrible breaks, (Whoops! Brakes!) and I had to give up the crosswording, to concentrate on stopping the walker from running away or tipping over when the bus went around a corner or up or downhill. And there are a lot of steep hills on the route.

We arrived at the Queen Street terminus. I got off last, and stood for a moment, and noticed the mess all around, and continued to take pictures of the Nottingham Street Art, throughout my visit to the City Centre. Which only lasted for about an hour, before I caught the bus home.

I made a separate post with all the ‘Art’ photographs later.

At at least it wasn’t raining. I hobbled down the street into the slab square, where I took a selection of pictures on my way to the Poundland Shop, on Wheeler Gate.

By gum, it was a lot busier in Nottingham’s Slab Square.

The Galloping Horses even had some visitors today.

The abience seemed far lighter too.

I could not get onto the Slab area, but I managed to take this long-distance, zoomed-in shot of the skaters on the rink.

I went into the Poundland store, it was hectic, as was expected this time of year of course. I came out with a lot of purchases. The helpful lady was on duty, and despite it being so busy, she put the things through for me. Bless her cotton socks. I moved into a quiet corner, and arranged the bag and carrier, to make them easier to carry with the walker-guide. A lot of stuff, too! Shaving foam, Dettol plain and lavender, four packets of Toffifees (Well, it’s a treat for myself for Christmas! Hehe!), a Pork Farms pork pie for Christmas morning breakfast! ( I don’t know why, but as an ankle-snapper, when it was just me and Dad at home, we had tris every Christmas, well, it saved him cooking, Haha!), Wholemeal sliced buns, Ferrero Roche for a treat for a tenant, Cheeselets, ready-made egg sarnie, Cashew and almond nuts, Body spray, Cooked chicken slices, and a tiny little can of ‘King in Million eau de toilette spray for men!’ I don’t know why I got this? Hehe! I do really, I thought it might be handy to keep in the trolley bag, just in case any embarrassing leaks occur which they are guaranteed to.

I got things sorted and poddled out and along South Parade to the Exchange Walk. I took these shots down towards St Peter’s Church. The flowers smelt nice, and the shoplifters… I mean, shoppers looked a bit happier than of late.

I walked down and had a looked in a stationery shop for magnifying glasses. But the prices put me off!

So, out again and up into the Slab Square. Where the Horses ride had at least six people on it, a record methinks?

As I crossed over Long Row on my way to Queen Street, I spotted this Highway Maintenance van parked on the Slab Square? This puzzled me a tad, but then again, I am easily confused and incongruously baffled nowadays. It comes with ageing I suppose, senility and mental confusion.

Throughout the visit to town, there were so many Pavement Cyclists, I didn’t bother picturing, but the sight of three of them on Long Row, side by side, pedestrians scattering, made me snap them quickly, and I passed a comment, something like ‘Gits!’ as they went by me. But I was not heard or ignored. Perhaps just as well, they were big lads. Haha! But, most annoyingly and angering, the photo seems to have dissipated into the ether from the SD card? Grrr!

At the bottom of King/Queen Street, the Ice Mountain ride was doing brisk business. I couldn’t help but stop and watch the kids enjoying themselves.

I p[lodded up to the L9 bus stop. Ray (I think) from the same floor as I live in, in Woodthorpe Court was sat waiting for the bus when I arrived. I greeted him with “Afternoon mate, at least it’s not raining!” For which I received a look of amazement, and ignored, or not heard. He looked tired though, hope he’s alright. He’s also a kipper on bus journeys as I have witnessed before, and on our way back he nodded off a few times. I couldn’t join him in slumber today, the Stirling Moss fan driver, kept me alert and fighting to stay in my side-saddle seat and hang onto the three-wheeler. Haha!

AS the bus pulled up, I checked to see if Roy was awake or not, he was just coming back to life in time for the stop. (We have a lot in common!) I hastened to the flat with Mary, who had got on the bus, said our farewells in the lift. I fumbled with the door lock, and just made it to the WC in time for the start of a pathetical, INHBT (I-needn’t-have-bothered-trickling) wee-wee, that took yonks and probably amounted to a few fluid ounces.

  Then, I washed and came out, went to get the things from the bag and trolley. And found Christina note! My whole mind was concentrated on my feeblemindedness and stupidity! Everything else seemed to pale, other than my hunger.

I got the sourdough baguette in the oven and made up a plate with beetroot and the ready-made egg sarnie. Cut up some tomatoes and got them on the bread. Got the sourdough out, and added the ready-cooked crispy smoke bacon as an overgenerous but well-tasty filler. Got a mini-bottle of orange juice, and ate the lot! Flavour rated at 7/10.

At least there was not much washing up to do. I was doing this when the doorbells chimed out. It was Josie, returning the cutlery and plate from her meal. On being asked, she said she enjoyed the nosh.

Back to the washing up. I then stripped off and put the jammies on, did the handwashing, only a shirt and pair of socks. Got them done, wrung and hung to dry.

Got some nuts to nibble and another mini-bottle of orange juice, and settled in the second-hand, £300, c1968 recliner. The one that 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, he erected a drone-landing platform outside and searched for my valuables, which he found and stole. But I did get some back. Less what he thought was a reasonable amount for his petrol and bother in visiting me in hospital and running me about from the care home back to the flats. Oh, and old coins that I had kept in order of dates, half-crowns, florins etc. They are now in the Cash Converters Pawn Shop on Parliament Street, so he says that I can repurchase them if I hurry.

Well, I was so tired now. I decided to get down and watch some Black Adder on DVD. I got through episodes one and two alright, but the drooping eyes started, so I turned off the set, pulled the woolly hat over my eyes and settled to nod off.

I was awoken, I do not know what by, but I had a feeling it was a noise. I lay pondering on whether I should get up to investigate, and the rattling noise, short and sharp came. I assume this is why I woke in the first place. So, I had to get out of the recliner and hobble around checking that it was nothing in the flat that had fallen over or collapsed.

I performed a perfectly executed painful electric-shock-like toe-stubbing against the cupboard corner in the kitchen! Argh! But found nothing of any concern over the noise, whatever it was. So, I put the kettle on and took a Codeine 30g. The poor old middle toe again!

While the tea was brewing, I took this pretty snap of the evening view. Drank the tea, and then ruminated over things, mostly about how absolutely negligent and gormless I’d been over forgetting about the gorgeous, most appealing, highly attractive, Nurse Christina coming to the flat to take my blood.

I hate myself!

Inchcock Today – Sunday 22nd December 2019: Visotactile failings today!

Sunday 22nd December 2019

Italian: Domenica 22 Dicembre 2019

01:45hrs: I woke up drained through lack of sleep. The EQ telling me that if I had clinomania and didn’t want to get up, it would be alright?

However, the need for a wee-wee, quickly followed by the demand for a visit to the Porcelain Throne arrived. So, I detached my deteriorating and slowly disintegrating gargantuanly growing flabby-bellied body from the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner. Grabbed the stick, and made my way dodderingly to the wet room. Passing the signs of my nocturnal nibbling en route.

The session went alright, and the bleeding was much less than the last one. It was another right dollop evacuated. Washed and wiped the contact points. And got the camera to photo the legs for the Doctor to see, when I can get an appointment, that is.

Well, it appears that the legs have swapped fluid retention between each other today? Now, its the right leg that is fatter. Beats me!

Off to the kitchen, and was pleased to note that I had not left the hot water tap running, the stove on, or the fridge freezer door open.

I took a photograph from the window, of the morning view. I don’t really know what it means, but I used the Aperture-Priority-Auto setting. It came out reasonable.

I got the computer on, and feared it might blow up! For the Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet was going so fast! I was over the moon! Five minutes later, and it was back to its old self! Tsk!

As I was setting up WordPress, I heard clicking in the right ear-hole, and the ‘Hum’ became more noticeable. Off to the medical drawer to put some olive oil in the tab-holes, and noticed I had not taken the medications, last night, nor this morning! So, I imbibed them. Then used the Phorpain gel on Arthur Itis’s knees. Put cortisone cream on the cracked lips, and made another brew of the Thompsons tea. Then sanitised, cleaned and stored the grey bucket under the sink.

As I was updating the Saturday tale of woe, around 03:15hrs, I thought I heard a rumbling noise, but could not find anything untoward or what caused it. If indeed there was any sound, I suppose it might have been the ear wax oil, working its way down the ear canal?

The wee-weeing had changed to the SSSAO (Short-Sharp-Spraying-All-Over) style. And there were plenty of them, so many I got the GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket) disinfected and in use again, and kept it near the computer desk. It was well-used this morning.

I got the Saturday post updated and sent off to WordPress. Then went on the WP reader section. Finally, on the TFZer Facebooking.

Then back to the Porcelain Throne, only to find everything solid and unmoving again! After sitting, unsuccessfully doing the crosswords for a while, I gave up and washed my hands. Then, off to the kitchen, and made a mug of Macrogol and drank it. I seem to be taking a lot of extra medications this week?

Once again, I heard the rumbling noise, this time I knew it was coming from outside, or at least I believed so. I got the Nikon and leant out of the window, and taking it blind to see if anything untoward could be spotted that may have caused the sound that I heard. The new unwanted, unliked, light & view-blocking, thick-framed new kitchen windows, have been built with a hanging-out too far out ledge, that means unless you are young and fit or a contortionist, you cannot look out and down for ambulances, fire engines whatever, like one could with the old windows. But, never mind. Anyway, I could not see anything about that might have been the source of the noise.

As I was making another brew, some unplanned phuts of wind from the rear-end escaped. Blimey, can this be the Macrogol working already? Hehe! Nope, no signs of any movement or need for the Throne yet.

Back to the computer, dropping the stick on the way there, Humph! And made a start on this blog. The previously this morning, well-behaved finger-ends peripheral sensory nerves, now started to play up and failing to get the touch and contact messages to the brain. Thus, a most annoying session of ever making mistakes and corrections started! My spirits sank! But at least I’ve had a couple of decent hours in first!

05:25hrs: I moved on to making up the templates. With some angst, but I did get them done eventually.

09:05hrs: Phew! Got them all done!

I got the ablutionisationing done. Only the one cut shaving. The dropsies were multiple, in fact, there was not much I didn’t drop, knock over or walk into. However, the myasthenia gravis return to getting the messages through to the brain, and suddenly the Whoopsies all stopped. I liked that!

Had a brew while started to sort out and preparing Josie’s meal. I was a little tired by now, and had to concentrate on what I was doing – not that this stopped me later from clouting my forehead on the draining board and sending the goggles flying as I bent down to get the bleach and washing up liquid from under the sink for washing the pots!.

Extra today for her.

Strained tuna in brine, I added some mayonnaise mixed in, sliced tomatoes, garden peas with demerara sugar, gherkins and Josie’s favourite ingredient, soft buttered cheesy mash potato. A can of pink gin & tonic and a limoncello dessert to round it off. I got it on the wheeled-server and delivered the meal on a tray to Josie’s door. The gal seemed satisfied with the feast, and I took her photograph as she was inspecting her chef’s meal. Hehehe! The gal gave me a packet of two custard tart as a thank you.

I’m not keen on these but tried one later with my own nosh. 

A quick natter and back top the flat, to get my own nosh prepared. Wholemeal bun sarnies with German smoked Ham and lots of naughty butter, chips (fries), cooked beetroot and sliced apple. The gifted by Josie custard tart, and a mini-bottle of fresh orange juice. Another decent tasting meal this time, an 8.2/10 flavour rating.

It was enjoyed while I was sat on the £300 second-hand recliner, watching Liverpool’s Club World Cup win. It took me back, The Hillsborough and Heysel disasters. Kenny Dalglish, Roger Hunt, Keegan, Michael Owen, Ian Rush, Jimmy Case. Steve Highway, Ron Yeats, and Ray Clemence. The thought of the crooked back-hand taking Bruce Grobbelaar, spoilt the musing.

I went to get the washing up done, and there was plenty of it to do. The right-hand side neurotransmitters were occasionally failing to transmit touch messages to the brain, and somehow or other as I bent to go into the cupboard below the sink, I clonked my forehead on the edge of the door as I fell forwards.

There laid a blubbery-mass of Inchcock on the floor! His glasses shot off somewhere unknown. His head stinging. His pride shattered. And what a struggle to get back up again, ever aware that he might at any time tread on his eyewear! Tsk! Another problem was finding his spectacles after he had got up. Humph! In the end, about to accept he had gone bonkers, he spotted them, they had apparently hit something as they were falling, bounced off and landed right in the waste bin! Finding them unbroken, although the left lens was scratched a bit, cheered him up a tad. Crabs and Grobblecraps!

I put some cream on the bonce, got another drink of orange juice, and returned to the c1968 recliner, to watch a Kitchen programme. Of course, I fell asleep at the first commercial break!

Exit mobile version
%%footer%%