Thursday 30th January 2020

Zulu: ULwesine 30 KuJanuwari 2020

01:15hrs: I woke up, feeling so tired still, why, I know not. But there you go! I got my cumbersome short-plump, wobbly body up, caught my balance, and without to much bother, as well! The absence of Dizzy Dennis almost made me give out a “Yee-Haa!” No wee-wee, no Porcelain Throne needs either!

Off to the kitchen, where I got the kettle on. The innards began to suddenly and importunately rumble and grumble. I hastened to the wet room and got seated on the Porcelain Throne. It was a reluctant evacuation, but nae bother, the crossword book was utilised, the pain was of a minimum, and it was not messy. Mmm, disconcerting!

Not only, but as well as and besides them, the pins (legs) were looking even better. On the verge of normalisticalistion! Well, apart from what I think might be one of the coming and going blotches, due to the Clopidogrel Clive. Even, Varicose-Veins-Victor had calmed down! I think I’ll upgrade my previous exclamation from disconcerting to worrying!

Had I woken up in another world? I clambered out of the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner so easily! No dizzies, an almost routine Throne visit? Plus, Duodenal Donald and Anne Gyna were giving me no hassle at all. Little-Inchies Fungal Lesion and Harolds Haemorrhoids were not bleeding! Worrying, in a way! Most incomprehensible! But, let’s give them time.

I put some leeks and mushrooms in the small crock-pot, seasoned with onion salt. Then made another mug of tea, and belatedly took the medications.

I got on the computer to update the diary, for I knew it was going to be a long haul, with my going out yesterday and the bank meeting to add. Going to be another long one, but I hope interesting for once.

Then… Eurgh!

The going with the updating was riddled with contretemps, ever correcting. It took hours before the internet settled into its usual slow-mode status. That, I could live with.

After a couple of hours, I went to check on the potatoes and leeks that were in the new cooker. The lid was rattling with the pressure, so I turned it down to the low setting. I  poked a potato with a plastic fork, and it burst open! Blimey, that cooked quick! So I took out the spuds and used them for nibbles during the morning. I think with them being very tiny in size, is the cause of this contretemps?

Mr Fries internet was getting more reliable. But for God sakes don’t let him know, the price will go up again!

07:26hrs: 7.5 hours after starting, I finally got the post finished. Fed-up? Me!

I emailed the link. Then went on Pinterest and posted some pictures. Then onto the WordPress reader. Next, the TFZer Facebooking.

At 0945hrs, I started this blog off.

I kept checking on the crock-pot, there were not many leeks left, most had turned to liquid! Humph! A right mess from the slow-cooker fiasco in the kitchen needed sorting out. Oh dearie me, yes! Decision time again! I didn’t want to turn off the computer and go off itself again. But I wanted to clear the mess up. But I had to get the ablutions done first, so I looked semi-respectable if I met anyone. The black bags needed sorting and getting rid off. The kitchen floor needed a good mopping up. So much to get done… but excuses, I can’t see myself feeling as fit as this again. The head was spinning a bit now, with unbelievability.

So, I closed all the programs apart from the internet itself. WordPress, Coreldraw, Hippo, and Word. And put the machine in sleep mode. Then got the ablutions done, I need the Porcelain Throne again anyway. The ablutionalisationing session went well. Any more good luck, and I may have another stroke or heart attack, this is all unnatural). Fair enough, the dropsies were frequent, there was no bleeding, dizzies, toe-stubbing, or knocking over anything. The sock-glide battle as an injury-less draw. There were a few mini-knicks when shaving, though. To be expected.

Got the togs to wear ready, and visited the wet room. I should be back in a few hours, providing I don’t do anything silly, like sit down and fall asleep (which is already tempting me, so as I can avoid the cleaning and mopping up. Haha!), or snuff-it. TTFN.

(Well, I didn’t make it back until I woke up Friday at 01:00hrs. Humph!)

Having been refreshed,

I got myself dressed.

Work needed doing, there’s no rest,

Sorted the filled box’s, tied em with string,

Sweep the kitchen the next thing,

Then mopping to do, Arthur Itis started to sting,

Left it, for now, good thinking!

So, I stacked the box’s, on the trolley thing,

Out to the lobby, the lift did arrive and ping,

I got into the cage, no box’s tipping,

To the lobby, and to the caretaker’s den,

I wouldn’t like to have to do this again!

Robert, (or is it Steven? Oh, the brain!) helped me unload the things and we had a little natter. I told him of my crock-pot disasters, and he told me of some he’s had. Nice to talk!

Back up to the flat, and tackled the mopping up of the filthy kitchen floor. I had to change the water in the bucket twice!

I clouted my ankle a few times, and at one point, all the signs of the peripheral neuropathy right-leg were building up for a Neuropathic Schuhplattler Dance showed. The almost intangible tremors around the right knee and the hip shakes are usually reliable indicators. But not this time, thankfully. Which with me mopping, a dance now, could have been dangerous. Another spot of good luck for me. This out of the ordinary, idiosyncratic run of uncustomarily good fortune, to be honest, scares the living daylights out of me. It’s just doesn’t happen to me?

But the floor didn’t look bad after I’d got it done. It was worth annoying Arthur Itis and Anne Gyna a bit. (Liar!)

While the floor dried, I went down to the Hauptsturmfuhreresses Holding Cell and Office, with the last of the Easter treats. They were busy, and my EQ told me I was annoying them. But, pole-dancer and Warden Deana, did pose for me to take a snap of her. I thought she looked just like my Sister Jane did, fifty years ago! A quick natter and I returned to the flat.

I went outside on Chestnut Walk, back to the flat, so I could take some photographs of the buildings. Not received any for a while now, with all those days being stuck indoors over the month. Thanks mainly to Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Nottingham NG5 2DA, for being late with my prescriptions and leaving me without painkillers and beta-blockers for five, no, six days! Just thought I’d mention it! I wonder if the next months will arrive on time? The Medicine Management lady, Leoni, who I complained to, told me to ring them when I get to my last weeks blister-pack and remind them. Very helpful, professional and useful! Especially as she knows I am almost deaf! I wandered-off the plot there, sorry.

As I ambled along in the cold sunshine, I took these pictures along the way.

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I got back to the apartment and remembered to take the original crock-pot to the waste-chute room, as told to by Stephen (or Robert?) earlier, for him to kindly collect and dispose of for me.

Weariness and fatigue dawned early again. I locked the flat door for once so that I would not be disturbed by anyone coming in, for I felt the need for sleep to be needed, more than usual.

I got the meal prepared and served up. Those wicked, unhealthy Frikadellens, done it the oven, and caramelised onion chutney slathered liberally on top of them (Evil-chuckle), garden peas, much-overcooked but still tasty leeks, a sliced black Natoori tomato, and four mushrooms done with balsamic vinegar, and a few mini new potatoes. With a luxurious lemon-curd yoghourt for afters, with a bottle of fresh orange juice! Bu gum, I relished that! Flavour rating of 9/10 given! But, I must resist the temptation to have Frikadellens again for a few months, cause despite the fantastic taste, they are really not healthy at all!

I got the pots washed, thought about doing the handwashing, but didn’t, and got my head down, turning the telly on. I had one programme I wanted to watch, then I could nod-off.

But while watching the alien documentary, I sensed a flashing light coming from the hallway? I whipped off the headphones, and could hear a squeaking, whiny noise?

As I fought my way out of the £300 second-hand, c1968 recliner, and made way,  hobblingly and hanging onto the walking stick, to the hall. I still managed to give myself a sickeningly-sharp toe-stubbing against the Ottoman! I found the smoke alarm going off on the kitchen ceiling. There was a recorded message, that was the squeaking, whiny noise I heard I assumed. It repeated a few time before stopping. I caught a few words of the recording, ‘No action is needed’, I hope. So, I reckon it was an alarm test. Indeed, no smoke or fire around anyway.

I got back to the recliner, limping a little more painfully now the middle toe had had another bashing from the stubbing!

This palaver made getting to sleep again, harder. Humph!