Friday 31st January 2020
Latvian: Piektdien, 2020 Gada 31 Janvārī
01:00hrs: Woke, with memories of a dream I’d had floating about in the grey-cells. But they soon left, and all I knew was, the nocturnal mind-wanderings were of a likeable nature, but not the foggiest of any details, remained. Tsk!
Moments later, summoning from the inwards, advised me to hasten to the Porcelain Throne. So, I did. Which proved to be and up and down visitation. The evacuation went well enough, not too painful or messy, but it took a while and some effort.
During this, I had a go at the crossword book. And dropped it when the neurotransmitters failed in the finger-ends. I used the picker-upper to retrieve the book. I creased the pages in doing so. When I got it in my hand, a page with some of my scribble on it was on top. I’d written something about my xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete; I think I wrote it when I was in the Acorn home, recovering from the stroke, so out of interest, I read it. It related to Pete visiting me there. And suddenly it dawned… I’d missed his birthday! Well, I can expect him to raid the flat again now! Hehe! He might even arm one of his drones and send it over! I must apologise to the lad. Sorry, Pete, me old mate, catch you later, I hope, Sir. I do feel a right schlemiel! I blame my doing that housework yesterday. (Red-face and shame growing!)
I took a rinse and wiped the contact surfaces, and off to the kitchen to make a brew. I took the medications.
Then got on with updating the Thursday blog.
But it was a nightmare with the amazingly crap service provided by the Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet, making things take several times longer than it should have. And yet yesterday, it was reasonably decent? In fact, it was to start with for the first fifteen minutes?
After about half-an-hour at it, the wee-weeing started, and it’s not stopped yet! Each and everyone was of the SSPAOQ (Short-Sharp-Painless-All-Over-Quickly) variety. But most frequent. I reckon that I must have dished the beta-blocker, in error for the Furesomide tablet! Thank you, Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Nottingham NG5 2DA, for letting me down and failing to remove the Furesomide from the blister-packs in my prescriptions, as Nurse Leoni had asked you to do, and you said you would, but didn’t! She asked you again last week, and another prospectively worthless promise was received that you would on the next allocation. I hope you do get it right this time, bearing in mind you are classed amongst the top three Chemists in Nottingham by the Yell.co company. It’s only after talking with other old folks in the flats where I live about the problem that many have told me of their complaints about Boots, Llyods, and the Late Night Chemists in Sherwood. You all seem unreliable. So, how come you are in the top three? You used to be so caring, efficient, and reliable, too. Shame, a shame I can’t leave and use another pharmacist. And Boots and Lloyds are about to charge £10 per delivery.
I really went off the plot there, didn’t I? Sorry, but the annoyance of Mr Fries Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet, and the suffering that Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Nottingham NG5 2DA have put me through, gets to me sometimes, mainly when they both cause problems for me at the same time!
Now, my Grammarly keeps changing to US English, and I am so pissed-off!
As I gave up on the web and closed everything down, the landline rang out. It was Sister Jane to tell me I had forgotten Pete’s birthday. Oh, dear! ‘Trouble ‘t Mill!” I didn’t mention that I forgot my own last year! After all the help, the lad’s given me over the stroke, too. Oh, ecky thump!
I got the ablutions sorted out. The legs looked mighty fine! Dropsies that I can remember; Shaving Razors (4) Shaving cream. Teeth; toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash bottle. Showering: Showerhead, soap (3), sponge, and back-brush. Then another toe-stubbing against seat raiser. The sock-glide battle; that I had been mastering of late. Left me with a piece of the nail removed on the thumb, and a bruise on the knuckles. Also, I clouted my elbow on the sink edge, getting my trousers on! Now that’s more like me!
I felt almost happy about it! Sad, I know, but that happens to be how I think, good luck is unusual but pleasant. However, not as reliable or frequent as a good dose of my injurious calamities and failures are!
I tended to the handwashing next. A few bits needed doing, and I made a right mess of the kitchen in doing so. I was a smidge irked by having to clean the flipping floor again after doing it yesterday. A few quiet mutterings of a curseful nature were uttered. But overall, I remained in a decent enough mood with myself and the world.
When I’d got the clothes done, rung and hung, then the beep-beep hook on the coathanger with the jammie-bottoms hanging on it suddenly detached itself! And again water found its way onto the floor I’d just cleaned again! More foul language was silently-voiced, with one word coming out aloud, beginning with F!
I took a snap of the view from the unwanted, unliked, light & view-blocking new kitchen windows. It looked like some rain is on the way. Pretty in a way, though. No, that’s not the word to describe it! More like, erm… I don’t know now, the name just departed my brain and off into the ether? Humph!
I got dressed and all ready for a bus ride to Sherwood. After double, treble checking things, especially the potatoes in the new small cooker, lights taps, etc. I departed. I rang Josie’s bell on the way out, but no answer.
Down and along the link-passage to the ILC’s (Independent Living Coordinators), Wardens to us, Holding Cell office. A quick nip in and handed the nibbles out. All done in thirty-seconds, and off into the Winwood Court Social Lounge. Only one person in there, a Nottingham City Homes agent. There was a lot of them arrived today. Including the Nottingham City Homes Generalfeldmarschalless Housing Patch Manager/Catwalk Model, Angela Gould.
I got the crosswording tackled for fifteen minutes or so, did well today. Then forced the reluctant Arthur Itis’s knees to let me stand up again, and off to the Winchester Court foyer. Had a natter with Margaret, Mary, and some other tenants, then, out to the bus stop.
Got the L9 down to Mansfield Road, took a photo to the right, then the left.
I limped down to the left, to the Azam store, the one with the lime window shades, to search for some fruit and veg. But, oh, what a selection of old food at top prices they had on offer! I turned around and back up the hill and tried the Co-op shop. They had some Cox’s apples, not cheap, but they looked okay, a bag of small potatoes, a wholemeal bread thins, and some mushrooms.
I paid at the self-serve tills without any problems. Then out and crossed over at the traffic light, to go to Abdul’s shop with the Post Office in it, to get some Puff Pastry fingers.
The shop that was a Bingo and entertainment establishment had been graffitied. But not by good skilfull ones.
As I took this photo, a young Nottinghamian Pavement Cyclist came by, and gave the evil eye and said something, but I could not hear what it was he said. Then casually plodded on up the hill, with his hands in his pockets, not on the handlebars.
I got to Abdul’s and got a packet of the fingers and a pack of jam tarts, £1 each. I met Welsh William at the check out ahead of me. He held the door open for me as I followed him out. We had a chat on my way to the bus stop, and he diverted into the bookies. That’s William in the light blue jacket shooting off for a flutter on the gee-gees, I imagine.
I carried on to the bus shelter, just as the rain came down heavier. Good timing! Some tenants of the flats, unknown to me by name and I had a chinwag for a while, as the bus came a little late today. But it wasn’t cold with it like it has been these last couple of days. The rain seems to have scattered the local populace.
Back at the flats, I was off the bus last as usual, to avoid banging into anyone or getting hit about. One of them waited to hold the door open for me, bless the gentleman! I did my best to catch up with them for a natter, but they were already at the end of the passage near the swipe door, by the time I entered the corridor. William was leading the charge.
I got the few things purchased put away and began to formulate what to have for today’s nosh with the new potatoes. Which incidentally were ready to go now, in the crock-pot. So I moved them in with the garden peas in the saucepan.
Then, I got the computer on and downloaded the photos to Coreldraw for resising. Then, with a certain nervousness, I restarted the Libert-Global internet and made a mug of tea, while I waited to restart hopefully.
It was just the same as before, no change. It seems to be cutting out every few minutes, but only for a few seconds, then coming back on? But, it seems, only on WordPress this time? Unless its just the timing?
I went on Facebook to test that out on the TFZers page. Got loads of photos on. But some moving pictures set Saccades-Sandra off, and now the Dizzies are back. So I’ll get the nosh made and settle down to try and rest a while.
Head cleared now, and I nodded-off (beyond my usual head-down time now) for a few minutes, I woke and went to sort the meal out.
Oh, flippin’ ‘eck! The potatoes were slightly burnt! The leeks had disappeared altogether! Thank heavens I warmed the garden peas in another pan! The saucepan had to be put down. I said a few words over it as I washed it and put it in its final resting place, the rubbish bag. A sad event, cause this saucepan had lasted longer than any other in the depths of the Whoopsiedangleplops, and the cursed Accifauxpas mysteries of my beloved Woodthorpe Court kitchen. That lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of space & the universal continuum, illusion, delusion, & hallucination! It was a veteran; it lasted the course without any damage for four months! Frogglemoths! I managed to clean the lid and kept it, in memory of the devoted pans loyalty, he’s not had an easy life, something I could empathise with.
However, I still ate the potatoes, not the black bits, mind. The feast was enjoyed, with a tinge of sadness for the saucepan. Hehehe!
Pork & mushroom pate, the lucky-not-go-the-same-way as the potatoes garden peas, an apple, a black tomato, beetroot, and the well-tasty potatoes! Lemon curd yoghourt for afters, with a bottle of fresh orange juice. A flavour-rating of 7/10.
Then, I went to get the pots washed. I returned to the junk room mark 2, got settled in the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, yucky-grungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner.
I got the TV on and noted that channel 81 on Freeview, a film, Crooks in Cloister was about to start. It rang a distant bell in my mind, so I decided to watch it… I nodded-off into slumberland as it was beginning. Not only that, but I slept for about 5½ hours uninterrupted!