
Thursday 20th February 2020
Norwegian: Torsdag 20 Februar 2020
The famously abhorrent ‘Hum’ was giving it some effort this morning! I’m sure that my IQ was giving me a smugly-know-it-all snide laugh? Tsk!
Getting out of the recliner was done with fantastic ease, catching my balance, grabbing the stick, and waggling-off to the wet room to clean the grey plastic bucket were all done with no bother at all. The morning’s activities were regularly interposed with SNS (Short-No-Sensation) wee-wees. (I mention this to save me keep typing them, with Nicodemus Neurotransmitters dying so frequently, typing turned out a bit arduous. Humph!)
As I was leaving the wet room, I had to turn back in haste, to use the Porcelain Throne!
Took the medications, with a Senna added, in hopes of avoiding another painful evacuation like one I’d just gone through. I think I’ll take another one before going out later on.
I got on the computer and did things in a different rota than usual, I don’t know why? I went on the WordPress Reader first, then a little bash at the TFZer Facebooking. Made a graphic up, then a new WP template for tomorrow on CorelDraw. Finally making a start on updating and finishing off yesterday’s blog. It took a record time to get done, thanks mainly to Nicodemus Neurotransmitters dying so often.
Something interesting, almost comical; about dying nerve-ends, that even I wasn’t aware of until it happens. Sometimes, I can’t feel when I cut myself or touch something hot. Not until they occasionally return to working status, which can be a long time later, and suddenly I feel the pain of the cut or burn! Hahaha! I even, like this morning, get caught out with removing the tea bags. For days on end, as is usual, I’ve not worried about taking out the bags with my right hand, and the cunning nerve-ends suddenly start transmitting to the brain again, and I jump at the unexpected pain! Hehehe! All these ailments certainly keep me amused. Bless them all, bless them all, those who make me bleed, shake and fall! Hahaha!
In between the wee-weeing, the ailments and lack of confidence, I got the post finished and sent off. Phew!
I came across a bit of graffiti, from Russia! I had to put it on to show Tim Hancock in New Mexico. A poor effort compared the that in Albuquerque that Tim sometimes photographs.
Off to the wet room. Now, the ablutionisationing went fairy-well. No prob’s as such with the teeth-cleaning. The shaving produced only one nick, and a tiny one at that, on the ear lobe. (Thank you, Shaking Shaun!) The showering went perfectly. The drying off failed to produce any shelf cleanings! All these parts of the ablution session brought cheer and a semi-self-confidence back to me…
I got dressed and into the kitchen, checked the timing for the bus, and decided I had time to get the handwashing done before going to catch the L9.
So I did! All done, wrung and hung, not the socks though. They were the ones bought last
After completing my usual ‘panic-fret’, is everything okay routine, and checking things repeatedly, the landline flashed. I answered it (Well it seemed a good idea. Har-har!), and it was Jenny saving the day for me again! She told me that the L9 was not running today, but it might be tomorrow! Oh, dearie me and ‘ecky thump! I thanked her for informing me, bless her ♥. The communications here lack a little, don’t they? Thank heavens for Jenny, once again! And her timing was spot on, minutes before I was going out to the bus stop!
No need to rush now. I’ll take an amble down Winchester Street into Sherwood, see if the Co-op has any decent looking tomatoes in, then call at Wilkos to get the cleaning stuff and cash a bus into town. I glanced outside just before departing, and at least it wasn’t raining.
I got the five bags of rubbish for the waste chute, and a too large a bag of recyclables to take down to the caretaker’s room. Off I went. I struggled a bit with the black bags, but got them down the chute, and took the big white bag with me in the lift. Now there is another mystery of my beloved Woodthorpe Court, with its illusions, delusions, hallucinations, infestations, Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas and manic machinations that thrive here freely, so bountifully! Why is it, that whenever I need the lift from the 12th-floor, both cages are on the ground floor? I bet when I get back, they’ll both be on a level high up! Ah-well!
I dropped the big bag off with Steve. Then ambled along through the link corridor, and called in the ILC (Independent Living Coordinators) Wardens Interrogation and strip-search Office. Hehehe!
But losing the already minimal, but oh so enjoyable contact with Jenny, Mary, Shiela, Gaynor, Penny, Christine etc. may yet decide me against leaving.
On to Mansfield Road, turned right and up into the Co-op store. There was still no rush though because there are plenty of buses regularly to town from Sherwood. I nosied around the shelves and came out with Cox’s apples and some fresh looking mini tomatoes.
I limped up the hill and into the Wilko store. I spent a bit here. Nasal spray £1.75, Refuse sack, 10 for a pound, Toilet cistern blocks also a quid. Ylang and Fressia scented laundry freshener crystals £3, but I am really taken by the fresh smell of these.
I was well bruised, trod on, and in pain by the time I arrived at my bus stop, Huh! I made sure I got up first this time, I shoved the trolley in the aisleway, and fumbled my way achingly off of the bus and got out of the line of the following hoards as fast as I could.
I made my way to the Poundstretcher shop and had an excellent hobble around, initially in search of some of the Pakistani potato-biscuits. By gum, they are so tasty! But, I found so many bargains, I weakened, and ended up spending a fortune, and had a heck of a job coping with two bags on the handlebars, and trying to control the trolley. Still, my own fault! I bought; The last two Paynes chocolate Brazil misshapes, a massive bottle of Woolite liquid at virtually half-price at £1.99. Some of what looked like excellent 50L extra-strong bin bags for £2.99, the last two Potato biscuits on the shelves. Two bottles of concentrated lemon clothes refresher disinfectant spray for a quid each. Some nose unblocker at £1.40, another bargain! Two bottles of BBQ bacon flavoured sauce for 49p each, and something called C&S Wul at 39p on the receipt, but I can’t find it? Hahaha!
I exited the shop, and the drizzle started on and off again. I had a vicambulation up into Trinity Square and took a few pictures, and then down Kings Walk onto Parliament Street.
The cafe at the top of Kings Walk, cleverly called the Kings Walk Kitchen (Huh), was offering Students a 20% reduction for all of February, didn’t seem to be having a lot of luck, or customers. Not surprising really, in the first photo, you will see 15 take-aways and restaurants. The competition! Poor devils!
Sometimes the smells attract my nostrils. But access for me would be impossible. Too many steep steps to get in, then you have to walk down more steps to get to the grill. It’s also got different floors and levels inside. But in particular, their “Ox Cheek Bone Luge” looks so delicious! Not that I’ve seen it in real life, but the photographs from the menu, Mmm!
Once again, when I got near the flats, I had to keep walking on the road, to get by the pavement parked cars. You can see how they park, not necessarily voluntarily, right on the corner of the junctions too. If any buses had been running today, they might not have got around the corners anyway.
If anyone happens to be reading this, who is familiar with or knowledgeable about the law concerning such parking laws, I’d appreciate some guidance. Cause sure as eggs are eggs, someone is going to get knocked down before long here! Any advice would be appreciated, I think the flats themselves are on private land? The double yellow lines are simply being ignored every day?
I smelt something different, I thought it might
In the lobby of the apartment, I turned back again, something was different in here too. But what it was, well, I couldn’t tell. But, that’s nothing new, is it? Haha!
I got inside the flat and put the buys of the day away.
I got some spuds and peas in a saucepan, got the oven on, then started to update this blog. Six hours later I got up to here, and well past my head-down time! So, I turned off the computer and got the nosh sorted.
I went to make sure I had not locked the door. (I keep it unlocked when I’m in nowadays, the difficulties experienced when I had the stroke of the emergency paramedic having to wait until I crept on all-fours to get to unlock the door. And my still tumbling over to my right side repeatedly is well remembered!)
I found a leaflet-note on the floor that had been delivered. As tired as I was, as I read it, something seemed not right about it. The wording told me more than the omitted words.
My Sherlock Holmesiessness had been stirred! Hehehe! The lack of any practical reasons for the changes installed suspicion in my tired mind. Your fob will work as intended? This indicated to my EQ that the fobs have been found to allow access to some parts of Winwood Court, where they should not be doing so? I’m most likely wrong, befuddled and
Maybe, being as the Tate gallery mistakenly refuses to record my peripheral neurotrophic legs as pieces of art and put them on show in a gallery – then Nottingham Trent University or College, would at least let me present a paper on the subject of being cursed with a luckless life? I’d call it Inchcock’s inimitable, intangible, ill-fortunes, illuminated? I got carried away there again, Sorry!
I got settled 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. 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, (I still haven’t got them back yet seven-months later).
Ah, well! I must have got to sleep eventually, cause I woke up, late for me, mind. About six hours, no waking up, no dream bliss!
Lengthy sigh in appreciation!