Wednesday 15th April 2020

French: Mercredi 15 Avril 2020

03:30hrs: I woke in a positively improved state of mind. Over the last 48hrs, I’d gone from ‘I’ve-Had-enough’, to ‘Oh-dearie me’, then to this morning’s mental condition, of ‘Perhaps-Things-Might-Improve’ mode. Dangerous, I know, but that’s how I felt! As I was laid there, wallowing in this temporary-moment of rarefied, but pleasant, semi-contentment, I started to ponder on what the day will be bringing me, hassle-wise. My EQ told me to expect nice things today? Mmm?

I have to ring or Email Jenny later, to find the time for the taxi she had arranged for me to get to the bank was due. The lower right leg was stinging before I moved (I’ll check on it later). I soon sussed that Anne Gyna, Peripheral Pete, Colin Cramps, and Shaking Shaun were going to be a bother. But my investigations had to be paused, and my ramblings concentrated on getting to the Porcelain Throne.

I was up and out of the recliner with so much ease it shocked me! Grabbed the stick and made my way to the wet room. The repeated phut-phut escapages from the read end en route, had me fooled completely. I would have put money on it going to be a messy, sloppy, runny evacuation, and accordingly, settled down as soon as I could…

And there I still was, a good five actionless minutes later! The crossword book was utilised for another few minutes before any movement began. And then, it was another of the start-stop part-way through jobs. ‘Things’ were being stretched, and the pain was slowly increasing! The crossword book was perused again. Anything to take my mind off of the agony. Hehe! Eventually, but slowly, activity returned, but it needed a lot of stressful encouragement from yours truly. Phew! Bloody, but it was not unexpected.

I got things in need, cleaned and medicated. And as a point of urgency, I went to the kitchen and made a mug of the Macrogol. Took a Senna along with the morning medications. With Anne Gyna, Colin Cramps (I pain-gelled the leg) and Duodenal Donald already giving me some discomfort, I took a Cocodamol to back up the Codeine 30g extra as well. Thank heavens for the kind person who dropped some off for me. Especially as the toothache was joining in the ‘Let’s annoy Inchcock’ battalion of ailments!

More CorelDraw work needed doing, but I started the updating of the Tuesday blog first. I discovered that Nicodemus’s Nerve-end transmitters were not working. I spent longer doing corrections than actual productive work. Inchyangulations!

But, I was in a fertile mood this morning, and went on to CorelDraw without taking a break or any nibbles! Highfaluting-Inflated-Ego-Mode Engaged!

Thankfully, with my staying up late again yesterday, there was little work needed to do, to finish off the blog. Although, still time for repeated corrections of Neuropathic Pete’s finger-end insensitive moments! Grangleroterisations!

Pinterested some pictures, and went on getting some graphics done for page tops. It was slow progress, but I do love doing them; if only the ailments would let me! I had to stop, to get the ablutions done a little early. Partly to get things done and not be late for the taxi that Jenny has arranged for me on time. And just in case Little Inchies Fungal Lesion had been bleeding. I do not like having to rush cleaning and medicating things in that department, quite painful, don’t you know! I must remember to go on WordPress Reader and TFZers Favebooking later.

Of to the wet room, and still with a morsel of this strange emotion to me, determination!

However, my gusto did not help, but rather made the session one of the worst for a few days! My rushing about at a rate of knots usually not available for me, meant Whoopsies galore!

• Stubbed toe on the mop bucket!
• Dropped the toothpaste!
• Toothbrush (twice)
• Cut gums
• Sink plug
• Shaving foam can
• Razors (Four)
• Shaving cuts (two)

The worst thing was the dang Sock Glide. I tried to make a point of being careful as well! Globalerisations! I trapped a finger in the gripper, tore a hole in a sock, and cracked the middle right toe as I pulled on the sock!

“For Sale” One almost new, part-used Sock-Glide. Emotion-prompting brand (Crying and swearing usually). Green plastic-covered metal. House trained, Decoratively sprayed with blood spots, red polka-dot spots. Offers, please!

Or, better still, if there are any medical people out there who can repair dying neurotransmitter ends, you can charge whatever you like to do the job, I’m prepared to give you all the money I have, please. The rent and service charges have just gone up, so it will be a little less than to offer you. But I can guarantee a minimum payment of £400! And, some old coins and monies when I get them back from my xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete, who stole them while I was in the hospital after my stroke. Hehehe!

I then got the hand-washing done, wrung and hung. Not a lot, just a long-sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of socks.

Checked on the wet-room floor mat, I washed last night. Still wet so I jiggled it a bit and turned it over, on the clothes airer.

Then, made up and took some more black bags to the waste chute.

Back to the flat and got things ready, made sure I’d got the letters Jenny wrote for me, the card, and some tissues with me.

I did the usual faffing about double-checking lights and taps etc. and went to set out for the taxi. As I opened the door, the mobile rang. Which was a good thing that it did, cause I’d left it nearby the computer?

I fumbled my way back and answered it. Twas Sister Jane. Wanting to know if I had ad a letter she’s sent received yet. We don’t get a morning delivering in these flats, at least I’ve never had one. Always been in the afternoon. She asked me to ring her back after I got it. Mmm?

I set out and down into the foyer of Woodthorpe Court. Out onto Chestnut Walk. Both the old caretakers were there at the bins. And I managed a conversational chinwag with them, despite Stuttering Stephanie doing her best to muck things up!

The taxi arrived dead on time, a decent sort of chap. We got to the bank, and as I was struggling to get out of the vehicle, a stranger came over to me and helped me out of it! That was grand of him! The taxi man walked me to the bank…

Jenny said she had checked on the opening times with TSB, who told her 09:30hrs. It was now, 09:35hrs, but they were not open. There was a sign on the door, saying for the duration of the lock-down, they will be open at 10:00hrs.

So, I had to do some quick thinking. If I wait until ten o’clock, the taxi fare will be a lot more, sky-high. If I get some money from the ATM, a risky job in my state with the fingers being none-responsive to touch, I will not be able to get sufficient cash for what I need, to pay my debts and have some spare for… No, I’ll get the money from the machine. I asked the driver if he could keep an eye on me, apart from the number I use?

He kindly did, and again a good job he did. I was walking away without collecting the cash! We were soon back in the flat, and the chap escorted me to the lobby door! Bless him!

On the way up, I got off the list on Jenny’s floor, and dropped the money I owe off through her letterbox, rang the bell, and back to the elevator.

I got in the flat and made sure I had the money left, and the card was safe!

A second calling to the Porcelain Throne. Hell, what a difference this one was. Ten-times less painful, but messy and the foulest aroma depositing one I’ve had for ages! The cistern didn’t clear it all, so I had to pour down endless jugs of water for yonks. The bleeding was a lot less, too!

As I got the kettle on, ♫ I only want to be with you ♫ chimed from the door. It was the postman, with a letter, (Jane’s) and a parcel. I thanked him and withdrew to the kitchen.

The mail was a card from ‘our Jane’, with some money in it for me for Easter. Bless her cotton socks, just at the optimum time too! I’ll ring her later on when I get the Iceland order arrived and sorted.

The package was a pair of the trousers I’d ordered from Amazon. They had sent only one pair, though, not the two I paid for! I suppose the other pair might arrive later. I checked the tracker on amazon to see what it said. They also sent the wrong size! Unless, of course, an Inchcock error had been made with the ordering? There was no email to tell me it had been delivered, so the other pair of trews might come later. I hope! 

The letter was from Jane, with some cash in it, cause she knows I’ve had none for five weeks. Perfect timing! I’ll ring and thank her later.

I took a snap from the kitchen window of the sky, I was looking for dogs taking their owners for a walk, but I couldn’t see any.

Got the kettle on, and was about to get the evening medications ready, and the Intercom chimed and lit.

It was the Iceland delivery man. He sensibly kept his distance, put the bags down and withdrew. I was tickled pink to see I’d got some of the beefburgers added to the order. 

Of course, I’d made another cock-up on the ordering, again! I felt sure I had ordered straight cut chips and then saw the new ones on sale, cunningly called ‘Naturally Imperfect chips!’ These were only £1, compared to the others at £2.40. Indeed, I thought I’d taken the orange pack off of the order. They are both the same weight as well.

This caused a bit of hassle and struggle, getting all the frozen foods in the freezer!

One heck of rigmarole taking stuff out, and rearranging things. A lot of the fresh products they were out of, but I still got the mature cheddar slices, No yoghourts, which is a shame, I love the lemon yoghourts, ah, well. Two ready-made meals on offer.No beetroot. Bleach restricted to one bottle per order. No spreadable butter. They sent smoked kippers boil in the bag, so no smoked haddock. But that’s no bother; I like kippers as much. Despite my searching and ordering the lemon yoghourts, lemon mousse and lemon tarts, it was a no go. But they did deliver some lemon Vienna cakes, so they will have to do. At least I have some more after dinner apples in stock. I hope they have been radiated.

But today, it will be the beefburgers on cheesy cobs and some chips, methinks. That sounds good to me.

I rang Jane to thank her, and the connection of the ringing told me not to bother, all broken up and crackly. I did some CorelDrawing, then tried again to get Jane.

Nicodemus’s nerve-ends died as the mobile rang, and as she answered it, I turned it off involuntarily. The typing I was doing afterwards was a farce, the senseless fingers doing all sort of jumping about… and I got a different scene up. It scared the hell out of me, it was full of indecipherable stuff to me. I thought it was the end of the computer. I calmly thought to myself, well that’s it. I’m not going to put another machine through this, I felt sickened. But I kept searching for an escape or close tag to hit, but no. I pressed the Esc button, nothing happened. My life had come to an end!

I was remarkably calm about it and started to take out the sim-card from its slot. But foolishy used the right hand, it flew up, and I grabbed at it, and went down with it onto the keyboard, and the right hand ran across along the keys… and the original screen came back on!

I know this sound hogwash, but it isn’t! Unbelievable!

I checked that other things and programmes were working, and they were. So, partly flabbergasted, and amazed, I closed everything down and tended to getting my beefburgers and chip cobs readied.

What a varied, up and down day so far!

At last, a decent nosh, and easy to prepare too. The cheesy topped cobs were bland, and the so-called extra-strong cheese was tasteless, but it didn’t matter too much. I made three sarnies. On of the insipid, pathetically flavoured cheddar, loaded with caramelised red onion chutney, to make it eatable. And two cobs with a beefburger, and some of the straight Iceland chips. I could not fault the crispy, tasty fries or beefburgers at all; they were marvellous! Enough to take my attention’s away from the jejune cheese, and the zestless cobs, anyway. Taste rating: 7/10. Thanks, as I said, to the chips and beefburgers, both Iceland brand. Both yummy!

I got the pots washed, and settled to watch the Coronavirus update on the telly. Farcical! I dropped off a minute here and there for hours. Why I didn’t just turn the TV off, beats me. Tsk!