Wednesday 18th March 2020
Latin: Die 18 Martii MMXX
01:35hrs: Woke feeling like I had only had a half-an-hours sleep. Then I realised, that I had only had 30 minutes kip! But, that’s how it’s been lately.
As I was plugging away trying to free my ever-expandingly stomached body from the comfort of the second-hand, c1968, none-working, broken by xyrophobia-suffering crook and Brother-in-Law Pete, rickety recliner, the pleasing thought of purchasing the toilet rolls, and the wonderful help from the unknown angel in Sainsbury’s yesterday, came into mind. And joy and a warm, comforting feeling did overfloweth! I realise the dangers of my getting too confident, assured and/or contented, is always a signal for Whoppsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas, failings and disasters to pay me a visit. But I just couldn’t help but wallow in the sense of, someone cares and does something to help others! Heartwarming! But, dangerous for Inchcock, at the same time! I must not get carried away.
Even on the way to, and during the Porcelain Throne session, my appreciation of her help, and the satisfaction of knowing I have a full fridge and cupboard (not to mention the toilet rolls!), settled my usually apprehensive, nervous state on waking. Even the passing was a good one. Apart from a little too much bleeding, there was far less pain and effort required, and things were not in the least bit messy or over-pungent!
Little Inchies fungal lesion was not leaking! As I said earlier, I must not get carried away!
As for the pins, just look at them. They could be any ordinary pair of legs. The varicose and spider veins seem to have retreated, the Clopidogrel lumps and marks, and the blood papules have gone the same way. Amazing!
I can’t understand it this morning, and it concerns me, things are going so well, and I am singing to myself! I got the kettle on and got the medications ready. Opening the pill-blister, for the first time ever, all the tablets were in the right sections, and I didn’t drop a single one! (Am I really asleep and still dreaming?) Got the tablets and medicines taken, applied the creams and lotions, then cleaned the ears with the new tool and re-olive-oiled them, without my snapping the end off the tool, or spilling any oil! Made the brew and into the front room with it.
I got on with the updating of yesterday’s Inchcock Today. I was confused, as this took me no longer than three hours, and that’s with all the photographs to sort out! Mmm?
Then, as I was starting to do the Pinterest postings…
Ah, that’s more like my luck! But even this didn’t last long. I went on Facebooking to see if it was mended yet and would allow me to post photos to my albums… Great Balls of Fire! It did! Very slowly mind. So I spent ages on updating the albums but felt chuffed when I got them done.
I took a break, had a weak wee-wee, made some tea and had four-biscuits Before this new diet, it would have been a packet of bikkies! – I’m saying I wasn’t tempted, Hehe!) I had a read of the newsletter again, about us losing the L9 bus service, but nothing conf=rete came from it. They have twelve days to make their minds up what we are going to get, to replace the L9 bus.
Back to sorting the photographs out for storage. As I was doing this, I was genuinely surprised to hear some banging and drilling. I soon realised it was not what I thought, about 05:00hrs, but it was gone by eight o’clock! The workers were doing something in the lift lobby. But it didn’t last long, ten-minutes at most.
I went on the WordPress Reader. Then added some pictures on the TFZer Facebook page.
Off to make another brew, this time the Glengettie black. I checked on the toilet roll delivery-tracker from Amazon. 20th to 24th March.
14:00hrs: I made a start on Graphicalisationing for page tops.
Yet, with good luck (At first, I thought). I went to get meal sorted, and had a bit of a dizzy, grabbed at the counter and knocked the cleaner spray flying. I lunged to catch in, knocking a saucepan off of the stove – but the handle actually attached itself to the bottle sprayer gun, and saved it falling down between the stove and cupboard! More good fortune!
Then thought I heard a voice or music, and went to the front door, but no one was there? On the way back, I realised that it was the Alert Line controllers voice from the On-Call line. I must have caught the wrist alarm as I grabbed for the bottle. He was not too pleased, but he told me to take care. Ah, the luck starteth to turneth, I thought. (Boy was I unknowingly right too!)
I’d got the plate laid out, just awaiting the Haloumi sticks to finish cooking in the oven. And an urgent call to the Porcelain Throne arrived. What a shame, Little Inchy’s fungal lesion was pouring blood! And a right mess it made too! I carried out the painful evacuation, then did the even more hurtful medicationalisationing on Little Inchy. Got all cleaned up, and got back to the kitchen.
Crabstickleisations! The halloumi sticks were burnt to an unfit for human consumption pile of almost ash! Humph, what a Nebech! I dished them and the tray and started again using another pack of the sticks from the freezer.
Twenty minutes or so later, I was placing the Halloumi on the plate with the dried food that had been sat there so long! Gerrangulations! I swapped the lettuce and salad leaves with some in the fridge. Added the peas from the saucepan, and was pleased to be about to feast on the resurrected plateful of nosh, as my hunger and phagomania grew! The lips ere licked… then…
The Fire Alarm went off! I dare not settle, in case it was a real one. I got the step ladder and looked down out of the unwanted, unliked, photographer-hating, thick-framed, view-blocking kitchen window, to keep an eye out for the brigade and watch their responses. If they left early, within a few minutes, then I’d know it was a false alarm. Whilst waiting for their arrival, I got the camera to record things.
There were gone within five minutes. But that was long enough for the Halloumi stick to get soggy and cold on the plate! What was going to be a treat, a pleasant, epicurean delight of a meal, was turned into an unpleasant, picking out what food is warm enough and edible, task!
Well, the days ending with me getting back to my usual Whoopsiedangleplopitis returning.
But, to be fair, apart from the sticks tasting like tar, (Yes, I have eaten it! Dad used to call at roadworks and get a lump off of his mates, get his penknife out and cut a lump off of the block for me to chew on!) it wasn’t too bad really. The meal I mean!) But I’m sorry I even tried to eat the Halloumi, Eurgh! I still gave it a taste-rating of 6.5/10.
I got the pots washed, and as I did so, the dreaded wet warm sensation was coming from Little Inchies regions. At least with the fresh PPs on, it didn’t trickle down my leg. Off to the wet room for cleaning and medicalisationing, the Daktacort cream is nearly all used up now. Summat else to fret about! Mind you, I was still a tad lucky, cause I noticed it in plenty of time, thus saving my having to crack-open the dried blood, which usually starts it flowing again.
When I got back to finish the pots, I found I’d left the hot-water tap (Faucet) running! Being late on now, the water heating was turned on a bit ago, and will soon heat up again.
So, I left the pots and went to the computer, to make sure about the morning’s appointment at the Sherwood Health Clinic, it was for 08:30hrs. I just hope that the toilet rolls from Amazon do not come while I’m out. They gave me a six-day window for an ETA, starting tomorrow. If they left them outside the door, would they still be there when I got home? Of course, this means me staying in for a week! Humph at the thought!
Got down in the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, rarely working, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner. The one that bullying 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 all back yet, eight-months later). This is he, my chaetophorous, anti-epilation Brother-in-law, Pete!
As per, and as a usual, sleep did not come until it was almost time to get up again. Grangwangles!