Inchcock: Wednesday 1st January 2020: May everyone’s New Year be a betterer one, though there’s little chance of that. Hehe!

Wednesday 1st January 2020

Croatian: Srijeda, 1 Siječnja 2020. Godine

23:55hrs: I was up and about; and had been up now, for over 24 hours. But, I was determined to try and take some pictures of the birth of New Years Day. Hopefully, to catch some of the firework displays. I got the Nikon camera, made sure that the SHD card was in the slot, and off to the kitchen, and opened the light & View blocking new windows and waited for the show to start. Which it did dead on time.

It was not a good year, every display seemed miles away, and before I could set things up, it was dying off. So, I took many photos willy-nilly in the hope that some of them would come out alright.

I then added the only two half-decent ones to the Tuesday blog, updated and finished it, and it sent off post-haste. Then, I visited the TFZer Facebook, and made a few new 2020 albums ready to use, and posted some piccies off.

Then, back on CorelDraw, and did a couple more graphics to use, and made up two templates. It took me three hours, but although no sleep, I seemed to get a second wind. So I started this post going. Here are the best of the New Year view pictures.

I got them on here, and almost flaked out. Haha! I just had to stop, make a cuppa and get into the £300 second-hand rickety recliner and get my head down.

Huh! Get my head down? Not a cat in hell’s chance! The old brain-storms of worries, fears, anticipations, guilt, and none-expectations of any improvement in life. Soddening any remaining sediments, vestiges of my sustainability of sanity! I think sheer tiredness got me of to kip a few hours later.

10:30hrs: I woke, initially all confused over it being daylight, with a mist visible outside, through the deadly finger-tearing, crumbling-ceilinged balcony. Then, as the stomach rumbled, a little in the style, I imagine of Mount Etna, and painfully, I realised that the Porcelain Throne had not been utilised for over 28 hours! Surely this time?

I readied to dismounted the £300, second-hand, sickeningly-beige-coloured, cheerless chair – Panic! Where is the walking stick? I always leave it handy, in case of nocturnal wanderings, evacuations needed or medical emergencies. The two usual places were checked but no stick there! As I rose, to have a look around further, I was lucky enough that Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna and Duodenal Donald were all in a good frame of mind with me. (Yes, me, lucky! Good start to the new year, but worrying, it had to be con-job or a ploy to get me semi-contented before some calamity commeth) I soon found the stick, as I trod on it and stubbed a toe. I collected it, and off to the Porcelain Throne. I sat there for a few minutes, my innards telling me to expect a massive evacuation any time now, and my rear end, saying no chance? At least I got a good session on with the crossword book. As nothing moved, well, a lot moved actually, but it was all inside, rumbling, grumbling and internal reverberations caused as much discomfort as they could.

I got myself out of the wet room, to the kitchen, to get a brew and take the medications. A haziness lingered, and the innards kicked-off again – this was going to be close, I thought. I got to the throne, and spent another ten minutes or so, waiting for the non-arrival, putting up with the brewing and kicking stomach, and having another go at the crossword book. The rumblings stopped, but nothing moved. Time for the Movicol or Macrogol compound to be taken. So I made a mug Macrogol and imbibed it. I felt no reaction from the solar plexus. Sometimes when I have had to take Macrogol, the bubbling and churning is almost instant, but not today. Everything felt as solid as a rock! Even the wee-wees were short, weak and far between? Botherations!

No buses today. But I did need to try and catch-up on the page top graphics. So, without even a wash and shave, I got on CorelDraw to try and get some done in advance. After making a mug of tea, of course.

Well, only one wee-wee, no Throne demands at all during ‘the five hours’ that I was doing graphics. I’m tired enough to stop now.

I’ll try again to go to the toilet for a heavy-duty evacuation, the innards are aching badly now. No joy, I reckon someones been in and superglued my intestines. Hehe! I could explode at any time! The legs are not too Clopidgrelled, but still pale and with two different fatted pins! Har-har!

I went in to get the oven and pan of mushrooms with balsamic vinegar in the pan. No doubt about it being a Bank Holiday, all the cars parked outside the houses tell me that.

Got the nosh cooked and served up. Cheesy mash, chicken slice sarnies, beetroot etc. and it was good. I took a photo and saw that it was blurred, so l took another one, that looked better. Come the morning when I wanted to load the good picture on here, they had both disappeared into the ether from the damned SHD card! Grrr!

Washed up. Thought about doing the handwashing, but didn’t, and got down in the £300 second-hand recliner, put the TV on, and fell asleep before the TV had warmed up!