Sunday 1st March 2020
Esperanto: Dimanĉe 1 Marto 2020
02:15hrs: I woke in a depressional gulley, and felt awfully low. Why? I don’t know! I laid there a while, not moving, and hardly interested being bothered to breathe, let alone getting up and doing anything!
My thanks now, to the howling ‘Hum’. For taking my attention away from the morass of melancholy, I was in. The instant I silently spat out my hatred for the ever-present, mindnumbing humming noise, everything started to get back to normal. The whole episode only last a couple of minutes or so?
I was out of the £300, second-hand, sickeningly beige coloured, c1968, rickety-recliner in no time. Well, pretty quickly for me, and with little aching or pains from any ailments either! Oh, yes!
As I was catching my balance, stick in hand, the summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived, so, off to the wet room. A damned fine session today. No bleeding from anywhere, not too messy and I didn’t drop or knock anything over! Fair enough, I did stub my toe against the shower chair, but it was the right foot, and thanks to Nicodemus Neurotransmitters being on strike at that moment, there was hardly any pain! Hehehe! I shouldn’t laugh, when they start working again, the belated message will be sent to the brain (No wonder I get confused!), and the twinges will be felt then. Grubbulisations!
To the kitchen, to find that I had not taken last nights medications! Woe is me! I had to guess at which tablets were the Furesomide, Beta-blockers and Codeines. This is thanks to Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Nottingham NG5 2DA, who seem to have it in for me this year! They failed as promised to take out the Furesomide from the blister-packs, Twice! Then left me for five-days without any painkillers or Bisoprolol 10mg (Beta-blockers). This month, their blister packs came undone, and all the unidentifiable tablets have got mixed up! For anyone not wishing to be killed by this pharmacy; the photo above on the right indicates what is to be avoided. By anyone wanting to stay alive. Just another reminder: Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Nottingham NG5 2DA.
As I was setting up CorelDraw to make some graphics for the page tops, Toothache Tim and Anne Gyna both kicked off. (I thought things were going wellish?) Throughout the next three hours or so, I kept making cups of tea and letting them get cold, in my vigorous attempts at getting the graphicalisationing done. Tsk!
The wind didn’t seem so strong this morning, but when I opened the window to take a photo, it soon got closed again! Brrr! Blimey, it was cold. As the sunshine seemed to get stronger and came out brighter, I swear it got even colder, not warmer! No view shot was taken!
As I turned, there was a click, followed by Back-Pain-Brenda bitterly biting bother! Argh! I took some painkillers, bringing out the big boy Co-codamol and a Codeine.
Realised how late it was, so turned everything off, and went to get the ablutions tended to.
I got some of Josie’s dinner cooking, and the landline flashed and rang. It was Sister Jane. I’m afraid I could not hear everything she was saying, she was talking as fast as our Auntie Bobbie. (Hehe!) But, my being not log out of the showering session, I did not have my hearing aids in. I must ring her back! (I forgot when I fell asleep later, Oh, dearie me, in trouble again methinks!)
The dropsies were galore today. Toothbrush (2), toothpaste, shaving foam, razors (2), mouthwash (broke plastic bottle), carbolic soap, flannel, shower-head, towel (3), jammie bottoms, socks… on and on! The usual Sock-Glide brouhaha, battle and bruises were avoided, by my not putting any socks on (Cunning Plan!).
When I came out of the wet room, things were very blue! Not the naughty language type (Hehe!) but the colour blue. The Hue!
I took these shots from left to right. Amazing, how quickly the dank, drizzly sky was when I entered the wet room, now look at it! But despite the cloudless blue sky, it was still so damned cold with the window open!
I got the handwashing done, rung and hung. All over the flat in different rooms, it was hanging.
I got Josie’s nosh all ready and forgot to take a photo of it in my rush to get it to her while still warm. A Special one today, too. The cheesy-mashed potato was the best I have ever made. That was thanks to the coloured extra-strong red cheddar I bought from Fultons. It really was strong, lovely! (Naturally, being Josie’s official Sunday Chef, I had to taste it). With Lurpak butter, sea-salt and some chives, I was proud of it. The tuna flakes in brine had some mayonnaise mixed in it. Tomatoes sliced and sea-salted. The five-bean mix, I made sure was well cooked through, and the last tin of Aldi garden peas was used. Beetroot was sliced for her, and some caramelised onion chutney on the side. A pot of limoncello dessert, and a can of pin Gin & tonic, all on the tray.
I did, in my haste to get it to her, foolishly carried the tray instead of using the wheeled server trolley. But got away with it, despite a couple of wobbles, in which I clouted my elbows. I shan’t risk that again! She seemed glad enough at the look of her meal, we had a few seconds gossip in which I explained that sadly, she may never get such a good cheesy mashed potato again. With me getting it from Fultons, a shop that gets stuff if it is cheap, and often I never see them on sale again. I wished her happy eating, and returned to the flat, all of three paces (Hehehe!)
Josie noticed some letters on my hallway floor and stepped over to pick them up for me, bless her. She put them on the radiator. (Not working)
I got the dreaded job of the washing up done first. Gawd, cleaning the cheesy-mash off of the cutlery, is the hardest job on a Sunday! Then as I started to get my nosh on the go, a twinge of sadness overcame me, when I realised that my days of cheesy potatoes on my plate are numbered! (Diabetes!) I did, of course, have to try the potatoes after mixing, as part of my part-time chefs’ job (Haha!) Two overloaded filthy-great serving spoons full! It tasted gorgeous!
Then as I was getting my nosh prepared, (Braised beef in onion sauce, cook-in-the-bag) a moment of uncertainty arose. Had I locked the front door, I sometimes do, as getting into the habit of never locking it while I’m inside, so the paramedics can gain entry, is still hard to remember not to do… Does that sound right? I went to check, finding the door unlocked. Then saw letters on the heatless heater.
I opened them in trepidation. The first was obviously the test results of last Monday’s INR blood taking. Took their time getting it back to me, didn’t they? It must have been delivered on Saturday, five days later, and the dosages had changed because the reading was down to 1.7 INR, and I have been taking the wrong amounts for five days! Inchyangulations!
The other two were both from Ingeus diabetes people. A letter outlining the procedures for the sessions. And again, telling me to ring then if I want to proceed, on a Birmingham telephone number. Which is not available on a weekend, but Mon to Frid 0800 > 20hrs. Along with an eleven-page questionnaire for me to fill in. Something tells me these courses are not going to go well! Not my EQ, I might add, just a feeling. It appears that the courses are for different times than the man with the undecipherable voice told me. Once a week for four weeks, then I might get invited back for once-a-month follow-up sessions for nine months. It said in the letter in bold print: “8 out of 10 people who turn up once complete the first part of the programme” I’m not sure what this intimidatory, subliminal message implies?
Many years ago, when suffering one of my many redundancies, and claiming benefit, I went on an Ingeus Training Course in Nottingham, on Maid Marion Way. It was delivered in an automaton, emotionless, empathyless style as I recall. Obviously, the company has conned the NHS (or back-handed someone) to get the contract.
I pressed on making the meal. I moved the five-beans, baked (burnt) parsnips, potatoes and garden peas into one saucepan, flavoured with black bean sauce.
Got them all drained and added to the braised beef in onion gravy. I certainly filled the bowl!
I got the meal into the front room, put it down, and the telephone chirped and flashed! It was the Amazon delivery. (Don’t I have a lot of bad timing lately? Humph!)
I thanked the young man, wished him well, and hobbled hastily back to the room, and placed the collapsable walking stick and Picker-Upperer on the flat airer. I’ll check them out later in the morning.
As you can see above right, my meal on the plate on the chair in the background was awaiting my attention! Tsk!
I got down and tucked into it, with my feet up on a chair, the TV on with Hetty Wainthrope showing, and proceeded to dribble gravy onion down my chin, chest, and belly. Yes, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failure was back again! I just carried on, nowt else to be done. By gum, I enjoyed this nosh! A flavour Rating of 9.2/10!
Then, after giving things time to digest, while I watched to the end of the Hetty programme, and it was off to do even more washing up! But my meal’s muck was so much easier to get cleaned.
The usual weariness dawned, but the sleep once again refused to come for yonks!