Thursday 9th January 2020
Croatian: Četvrtak, 9 Siječnja 2020. Godine
23:25hrs: I woke up, with only one thing on my mind… I must get to the GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket) as soon as possible! I became aware of some otalgia, as I gently rose and limped to the bucket. And as I was using it, the damned ‘Hum’ became a lot more noticeable. I had plenty of time to listen to it, mind. For the wee-wee was of the ELDWIEE (Extra-Long-Dribbling-Will-It-Ever-End) variety. It took so long, I nearly fell asleep again, stood-up weeing! Sheesh!
I then made sure the voucher and things that I could manage to get in the three-wheeler guide, were all present. Ready for my almost feard trip out, vicambulation around town, and second bus trip on to Sister Jane’s, HRH’s Mansion-Hall in West Bridgford.
Then off to the kitchen, where the ‘Hum’ was distinctly louder. I took the medications and made a brew. Then snapped this shot from the light & view-blocking, finger trapping new window. No moon was showing this morning, and worryingly it was drizzling and windy out there today. Mmm!
I then pressed on with updating the Wednesday diary. Eventually getting it finished and going for a new brew, and yet another wee-wee They’ve been persistent this morning) Which makes me even less confident of getting myself to Jane’s without something going wrong, or it is too much for me. The EQ was trying to tell me something.
I got the kettle on and made up a nibble tub for later in the weekend, and then made a mug of Glenghettie tea in one of the two larger China mugs.
As I moved the mug top the tray, there was tea coming out of the mug? Also, I spotted some near where I’d poured the boiling water in? I remembered dropping this mug yesterday and feeling a little smug about it not breaking. Moments later, I could see the tea coming out of the spider-crack on the side! Ah, well! I got the other mug and transferred the tea.
Back to the computer and put a few photographs on Pinterest, then onto the TFZer Facebooking. Finally, on WordPress, then to the Porcelain Throne.
Painful, think of large meatballs. Lots of bleeding. Say no more!
Turned everything off, and went to get the Unfortunately, a Stand-Up – too early to use the shower) ablutions tended to.
The session was one of more interesting (I could have used a more accurate word, but wanted to avoid using bad language. Tsk) nature. Mainly due to the dropsies, during the toe-stubbing, shaving cuts and potentially lethal Sock-Glide battle.
The dropsies included: The sink plug (now with the chain broken). The toothpaste and brush (3), mouthwash bottle, shaving foam can, razors (4), the body spray and flannel and towel (5). Followed by the Daktacort and Corticosteroid cream tubes and the PP’s.
The sock-glide altercation was the most disturbing. I knocked it off of the seat, and it landed on the freshly stubbed on the metal support bar toe! Which left me in pain for the rest of the day.
Looking on the bright-side, after getting the socks on, the legs seemed staggeringly reasonable! Despite Arthur Itis’s bad mood with me. After getting dressed and smelling all pongy with the ‘Millionaire’, Au de Toilette spray applied, I rushed and got the handwashing done, wrung and hung.
Checked the trolley bag and it was well filled with pressies and nibbles for the Royal Family (Jane and Pete) for delivery. I checked the flat, boy did I! I had a moment of… what’s the word, I know there is one, erm… Ah, gorrit. OCD, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and must have double even treble-checked some things like taps, along with the windows, lights, cooker, etc. along with others for safety, and not being left or off wrongly. So-much-so that I really had to rush about afterwards, to get to the bus stop in time. Arthur Itis was getting worse as the day went on, and the feet joined in, both with rhadamanthine severity.
I met Cyndy in the lift, she was going down early to do some laundering (Of clothes, not money, Hehe!) and we had a lovely little natter.
As I got out from the Woodthorpe Court foyer onto an unwelcome looking, dark, dank, wet, windy Chestnut Walk, I thought I’d take a couple of shots of the view towards Winchester Court flats in the murk.
As I had a look at the photographs on the viewer, I saw that it a low-battery-sign showing! Somehow, I had put the wrong battery on charge last night! I felt a right clot! Then I realised the time! And had to almost rush to get to the bus shelter!
I was sliding all over with the trolley-walker as I went down the hill to the stop, and Arthur Itis was most displeased with me rushing, and Shaking Shaun was not too pleased either. I’m such a shmegegge, schlub and Shlimazel! But it was a good job I had got a move on because the 40 bus arrived in about a minute (07:25hrs) of me getting there. Phew!
I got on the bus, paid my £2.30 fare, and settled in a side-saddle seat, that was not designed for anyone to stay seated on! But that was not the worst thing about his journey. For I knew from experience, I was going to suffer getting bashed about and trod-on by the passengers as the bus filled to over-capacity.
And this is what happened! I had the trolley squashed right in between my legs, trod on, knocked about, elbowed, glared at, shoved and kicked, by the incoming army of grumpy passengers. The usual selection of them, even the ones who were standing and jostling with other mad tempered turds, had their mobiles in use. A bloke who sat in a seat next to me and was leaning against me with his excessive midriff, I could see was playing Bingo on his phone? I was so pleased when we arrived at Upper Parliament Street at last. I got off last, as is usual for me, to avoid being trampled on in the mad rush of cheerless Nottinghamians to get off!
I called in my beloved Poundland shop and ended up buying: For Jane & Pete treats to go with what was already in the trolley for them, Glue clamps, Toffiffees, Cutting blades, Mediterranian salad, Pork Farms pie, and nuts. Along with for myself, More Dettol, Germolene, toothpaste (Well, its something for the dropsies to enjoy), shaving cream, and a Toffiffee.
I got to the self-serve tills, and the lady put the things through for me, bless her. I was soon out and back on Upper Parliament Street. I tried the camera, and it took this picture first press of the button! It looks like what it was, dark, damp and depressing. Haha!
I made my way to and down Clumber Street and arrived at the EE shop. But it was not open yet. So I hobbled, balancing the bag on the trolley with aplomb and style, I walked back up to the Victoria Centre (Mall), deciding to go to Tesco, to get some more treats for the Royal Family. And perhaps see if I can get a cheap camera that runs off of standard batteries. I made my way through the centre to Tesco and bought them some seaweed, puff pastry fingers and got myself some liquid soapflakes. Paid the lady, resorted the bags on the trolley, and walked back toward the top entrance.
Seeing an EE shop that was just opening up. So I went in to be treated like an idiot, sneered at and made most unwelcome. Four young members of staff were stood chatting and laughing with each other as I hobbled in. Obviously, I must have had an air of “You’ll not get any money from me” written all over my aged face? Because three of them all walked to the other end of the shop on my entering? The older one, presumably the manager, waited until I got to him, and finished whatever he was doing on his computer, then turned his head in my direction, and with an upward nod, said “Yea? Can I do owt for yer?” I explained about my problem with my sim-only contract phone battery dying, as to be expected after so many years, and needing a new easier to use, simpler phone to use. I was told they do not make phones any simpler than the one I had.
I edified him, about my physical problems and the buttons on the old phone I’d transferred the sim card into my 20-year old phone, were very small, hard to see and use. With an audible even to me, ‘Huh’! He went to fetch some phones that he said they noo longer stock for me to look at. While showing me them, he tried to interest me in going on the EE Internet. He explained that the one handset was no better than the one I was using and had the same size buttons, the other was a lot more expensive. I declined them both, saying I’ll manage with this one, thank you.
He was going into Defcon-three-mode. I bravely ask him if he could tell me what my current contract charges for actual calls. He got the details up on the computer. Mentioning to me as he did so, with great indifference, well he muttered it really: “I can change it to a no-limit calls contract, for the same cost… if you want me to?” “Great!” I said, showing my approval of his suggestion, as he went into Defcon-Two-Status. He did the job, and as he was computerisationing, I tried the phone, I wanted to ring Jane, but there were no numbers no the Contacts? They had not been transferred with the card. So, even after all the hassle, I could not ring her. His expert opinion when I mentioned this, of “Yer!” went unnoticed at the time, I was more worried about him falling to sleep! During the to-and-froing, I ask a whippersnapper assistant, is there any contracts that do not charge for the internet, that my mobile does not have? “Nae, it the thing nowadays, progress innit, ah fings are going!
I was not sorry at leaving the store and took a headache and modicum of frustration with me. By the time I reached the Jessop store, I’d received, well the phone had, eleven emails from EE. I’ll still not got around to reading them yet. I went into the department store, and was a little nervous, shoving the trolley-guide between all the expensive displays as I made my way to the lifts, and up to the third floor, to see if they had any of the old phones or cameras with ordinary batteries on sale.
No luck, but the gentleman assistant or manager was polite to me, explaining they are no longer made. But recommended I try the London Exchange Store in Hockley. I thanked him and departed back down and out into the central mall.
Next port of call was Thornton’s shop, in search of the chocolate wine bottles, to get one for HRH Sister Jane. But, they only had a few to choose from this year. I opted for a Chocolate two-seater sports car, thinking it might bring back memories of Pete’s TR7 he had. The girl wrote the names and Happy Birthday on it, in white icing. I also bought them a name tag, but I can’t for the life of me, remember why now? Paid the lady, and went back out onto Parliament Street.
I walked painfully now, to the bus stop for the West Bridgford 5 or 7 route. The number seven was due in two minutes; Good bit of luck here, I thought. The bus pulled up behind one at the station, the first one pulled off, and as a lady and I approached the doors of the 5 bus, the driver deliberately looked away, closed the doors and pulled off! I got so angry, and swore at the top of my voice as it drove off into the distance! A naughty ‘B’ word; and that is so out of character for me. No problem getting the next bus, but this did not go anywhere near HRH Jane’s road, and meant my poor old feet and knees would have a long trudge when I got off of the bus to reach it! Fuming I was! The crush on the 40 bus, and now this! Humph! Crabs and Grobblenerds!
The walk from Central Avenue, where I’d alighted from the bus, was taken nice and gently. Not that Arthur Itis or Foot-ache Francis appreciated it. Part-way there, and Saccades Sandra joined in the hassling. And, I was still peeved about the treatment from the buses, and EE shop. Tsk! Yet, the rain had stopped, and the wind died down a lot. By the time I arrived at the Mansion, I had lost my tempestuousness.
The HRH’s gave me a warm welcome. Which at the time, I ungraciously did not acknowledge, but I was by then in great pain with the knees and feet in particular. As I got the carrier out with their pressies in, I asked Pete not to allow me to go home without my carrier of food. Slight lack of confidence there!)
But they soon cheered me up. They had graciously put a rag over a wooden chair for me to sit on. But, with travelling back on two more buses to come yet, Arthur Itis and Haemorrhoid Harold would not appreciate me sitting down to stiffen up the knees, and compress Harold’s piles, then getting up again and going through the same on each bus!
The Highnesses seemed happy enough to allow my standing up during the visit. Well, it saved any germs or dirt getting on the chair from my trousers!
They had just finished a gigantic jigsaw puzzle! A right whopper it was! I took this picture of it, but the camera battery died again.
Pete took the other photographs below, on his Galaxy mobile. I believe it is a Galaxy S10+Fold which has increased storage to 1TB. That operates as a normal smartphone until you open it, at which point it becomes a small tablet. A snip at £1514.50, they both have one. But, you can’t blame them, what with them having the lottery win, pools win, and being left a fortune by Pete’s unknown relative, they might as well live it up. No wonder Pete retired at 49. No jealousy from me, though. Oh, no! Hehe!
Jane gave me a pain killer. Pete’s Galaxy takes brilliant photos. Which he kindly sent to me through Email so I could use them. He said he’ll let me know the cost later.
As you can see by the photos of the chocolate car, the lettering didn’t last long. Pete mentioned later, “Women Drivers, huh!” From the evidence and Petes email, I’ve analysed a few possible reasons for this:
- Her or His Highness, couldn’t resist the vanilla flavoured writing?
- Her or His Highness, were discussing money and one threw the car at the other?
- Her or His Highness rubbed out the others name, as they were discussing Brexit, Fox hunting or Overseas Investment Opportunities?
- Her or His Highness thought it was shaving foam?
- Her or His Highness had lost a piece of the jigsaw?
Hehehehe! I’m losing it here!
I was soon offered a cup of tea, which I had to decline, (Which seemed to cheer them up?) with the wee-wee situation being as delicate as it is. Much chinwagging was enjoyed, and I got all excited, and contentment nearly came over me! Sadly, I had to leave earlier than I would have liked (Which also seemed to bring a smile to their faces?).
In all earnestness, I felt sad at having to go. They told me of the bus times and which one to catch to town and walked me to the door.
I walked along the road, wobbling a bit with the trolley-walker now it was so much lighter now, crossed over the road and it dawned… I had left my bag of fooder behind after all! On my travel back to the palace, the mobile rang, it was Jane telling me I’d not taken the bag! Hehehe! They brought out the well-rooted-through carrier to me as I approached the main driveway. Smiling broadly, as I said; Pete, I’m sorry I bothered asking you to remind me about taking the bag. A laugh all round, and that parting giggling left me feeling in better spirits, even with the daunting task of using two buses was ahead of me. No wonder the walker-guide was lighter! Haha!
As I was about twenty yards from getting to the bus stop, the number 5 shot by! Yet another bus-related faux pas! I still had to travel on two more yet! My EQ warned me it was not over, however. Accepting the validity of EQ’s, made me calmer in a way, for so it will, and I knew there was nothing I could to change things. So it was just a matter of acquiescently pressing on. A MAinline bus arrived, which I knew would get me Friar Lane, but would it be in time now I’d missed the number five bus, for me to catch the L9 in town? Whatever, I was in a decent mood, because there was nothing I could to change fate, and realised it.
The side-saddle seat on this bus, unfortunately, had as big-a-danger of my falling out of, as the 40 bus earlier did! By the time I’d battles gravity and the Stirling Moss driver to keep seated, Arthur Itis was really annoyed. Getting up and off the bus was a real agonising struggle, which annoyed the passengers waiting to get on. Oh, dearie me!
Then I had the task of getting to Queen Street in time, left me about eight minutes before the L9 was due to leave. Six months ago, this would have been, easy-peasy, but not today. Every step was hurtful, as I tried to get up enough speed to get there. Every uneven paving stone seemed to trap or tip the front wheel of the walker-guide. I was struggling for breath and in discomfort, as I limped up Queen Street as fast as I could to the bus stop at the top. It was three minutes past the hour as I drew level with the door of the bus, due out at five-past – and believe it or not, this driver closed the door and pulled away! I could have cried. There I was, breathing in gasps, feet hurting, Arthur Itis in top giving Inchcock pain-issuing form, yet with a twinge of contentment lingering within? I’m probably going bonkers here!
Now, the 40 bus was 25 minutes to wait for. I hobbled down Queen Street to the slab square. I took a snap of the Council House, showing the clock above Little John’s bell. Amazed that the battery let me make the picture, and it came out decent? I’m confused about this, I hope the camera is not going wrong.
I got back up and caught the 40 bus. These side-saddle seats had a bar to hang onto, and it was much needed and used too! Not too many people on the bus this time, and it was easier for me to cling to the seat, even with Nigel Mansell driving and heavy on the brakes. I got off on Winchester Street, a kind chap monitored me getting off, in case any help was needed.
The walk up to the flats had never been more uncomfortable. Just the feet and Arthur Itis’s knees were bothering me but on a grand scale! Hehe! The mysteries of the camera! The dead battery, according to the message on the screen, it still let me take two more photographs on Chestnut Walk? The colouring was nothing like what it was to the naked eye, though.
I got in and walked through to the Woodthorpe Courts flats, and up to the apartment, without seeing a soul.
First thing, I got the camera on charging. Then back to the door to pick up the Anticoagulation, Haemostasis Deep-Vein Arterial Thrombosis Clinic’s INR and dosage letter. The INR level is nearly spot on this time, the dosages the same, two-every day, so that should easy to remember. My next blood-letting session will be on Tuesday 21st, giving me a week longer. I even felt the pain from the feet and knees when I was stood still reading the details. So, I took the medications next with an extra Codeine 30g. Then got the Truffle fries in the oven cooking.
I suddenly felt a little out of sync. The walking and getting battered about by bus passengers and let down by bus drivers I should think. But concentration was hard to come by.
I got the very-old camera out and fitted two new batteries. It took the shot of the meal when I’d got it done, but only after changing the batteries after each failed attempt, and there many of them. I got Change the batteries, or This card is incorrect’ messages each time I tried to use it, so gave up.
The meal was enjoyable, despite my feeling so weary and confused. The ready-made BLT sarnies, some sliced tomato ones I made up, and the Truffle chips. A yoghourt for afters.
I painfully rose and put the pots in the washing up bowl, and sat down in the recliner.
Just as the doorbells chimed out. Another damned uncomfortable getting and trip to the door. It was the set of brown T-shirts being delivered. I dropped them as the chap handed them over to me. He picked them up, I thanked him, and then dropped the walking stick! Again, he rescued me. I proffered my thanks again, and off he went quickly. Haha!
I opened the pack and had a quick check of them. They seemed okay to me, and felt as warm if not thicker than the expensive one I bought that cost twice as much to buy!
I left them where they were on the airer, and got down in the recliner again, to help ease Arthur Itis and Footache Francis and get some rest.
But wasn’t to be. The brain registered that if I do not get up again, and make notes now about what happened on my day out, I’ll never remember in the morning. So, wearily I got up and made some notes to use in doing this diary update. I even used red and black ink for each happening to mention.
Sleep? Not much chance of that I thought, as Dizzy Dennis came on.
So, I put the TV on, and that did the trick in no time! Zzz!