Thursday 16th April 2020
Tamil: ஏப்ரல் 16, 2020 வியாழக்கிழமை
I moved at 04:20hrs: I’d woken at 04:00hrs. And spent ten minutes or so, trying to get the mind’s spark-plugs to spark, and the brain into first-gear.
I had irrational parts of the dream I’d been having confusing things. Eventually, semi-logical thinking returned and all memories of the dream dissipated into the ether. It helped clear my acrasia when the urgency for a wee-wee arrived. By the time I’d got up on the feet and grabbed the stick, the Porcelain Throne was needed too. So, off to the wet room.
Things did not go as expected, not by a long way. Colin Cramp’s, Constipation Conrad, and Hyrams Hyperkinesis made sure if that. The evacuation didn’t get anywhere near fruition, the sudden borborygmus, pains and discomfort from the innards were acute, and I spent ages waiting and hoping for some movement. I tried a bit of muscular encouragement to advance the proceedings, but paid for it with horrendous pangs, and stabs! In between the terrible-tribulations, I managed a wee-wee of sorts (An LSHH (Long-Sprinkly-Half-Hearted style).
By golly-gosh (Not the exact wording that I thought at the time), that non-event left me almost doubled up in agony. By the time I’d rose and washed, it had reduced to an annoying, persistent enteralgia.
The old veins in the Peripheral Neuropathic affected right leg were looking looked so very pretty this morning. Reminded me of worms wriggling up to the skin. Hahaha!
Off to the kitchen.
First thing, even before putting the kettle on (this shows the urgency, Hehe), I made a mug of Macrogol and took a Senna. Constipation Conrad has returned with a vengeance! The rumbling and grumbling from the innards continue unabated. Dangwangles, Discomforting, Damn, and Drat! Got the kettle on, and took the morning medications, and made a brew.
Got the computer on, and had a look at the calendar. Ah, a more relaxed day, hopefully. I could do with a little less hassle, and time to concentrate on some CorelDrawing and the diaries, maybe even find time to do an Ode?
Mind you, it might not get done, with me getting up so late. Still, it might have been dream-filled, but six-hours-kip was right-good for me.
I checked for any Coronvirus updates, figures-wise, but none for yesterday?
On the computer, accompanied by the gnawingly, grinding, churning from the protruding, midriff. The wobbly stomach, proffering forth regular tiny, but aromatically lethal escapages of wind. (I sprayed some lemon fresh-air stuff about, but the posterior declamations won the day!) Cor, blimey they did!
I took a couple of photos as I made a brew of Glengettie. The sun behind still low, and it made for pictures with a distinctly varied colouring, I thought. Later, when it comes up a little more, the sun should be casting its shadows in the scene. I’ll try to remember to take some more.
As I got the tea made, made a decision. Yes, it has been known before (A long time ago, I agree). I thought that while being inside is a right bind and I’m not getting my daily hobbles in now, I placed the tea-bag pots on the floor! Why, you ask? (I hope). This means, at least a little exercise, bending down to get a bag, and again to put the pot back! It might sound silly to you, and most likely it is. But, the amount of tea I drink (and let go cold), should help me a bit. There is no chance of be doing any exercising today, the pains and aches are still pretty nasty, from the cleaning up of the flood, yet. So, in my mind at least, I’ve tried to do something about it. Maybe. Perhaps. Possibly?
What seemed like a few years later, I got up to here. I titivated this blog and then went on to update the Wednesday blog. This didn’t take too long, despite Nocodemus’s dying nerve-ends hassling me a bit.
The peripheral neuropathy drove right-leg was twitching and mini-shaking. In such a fashion that I believe my unintended, yet feeling almost obligatory, Neuropathic Drop-Something Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance, shortly. It seemed to be building to it anyway.
I then went on the WordPress Reader. Next, the TFZer Facebooking.
The door chime rang out, no intercom was heard though, so it might be someone to tell me off about something or other, Jenny bringing me a treat, or, as I anticipated, the second pair of trousers being delivered from Amazon. I made my way sprightly to the door…alright, I hobbled with the stick to the door, and sure enough, it was an Amazon delivery chap, who kindly put the box through the door for me.
Puzzling. It was another box of the Mini-Cheddars pickle flavoured cheese biscuits? I ordered another box? Did I? I’m hoping I have not clicked for a regular order of these. Oh, dearie me! I hope the second pair of trews arrive today and put my warped, frenzied mind at rest about them, at least.
I had a look at the trousers where I’d hung them up on top of the washed ones wit the holes in the pockets and legs coming apart, to remind myself that I’ve paid for two pairs, not one. Incidentally, the yare supposed to be brown ones, do they look brown to you? They are the wrong size as well. Tsk! I feel that at some time in my younger years, someone must have slipped me a lifetime-of-bad-luck pill!
I put the box in the junk room with the first one, took a packet out of the old box, and made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea. I’m not getting the full satisfaction from the brews lately, but that can’t be helped, I’m using the watery semi-skinned one from the Nottingham City Homes donation, Bless ’em!
I took the three snaps above, hoping to catch the sun in between the shadows. Each time I went to take a photo, the sun went in. I gave up after the third attempt and took those above.
My thoughts turned to plan my later victuals and libations. I ferreted in the cupboards. After much changing of the mind, ponderisationing and faffling about mentally, I decided to have some rice, cooked in Hoisin sauce, and some vegetarian sausages. That’s the one’s I ordered in error last week, waste not, want not, and all that.
An update came in on Email with the figures for Nottingham Civid-19+. So I added it to yesterdays update and made another graphic if it.
It’s not too encouraging. It doesn’t help with the conspiracists spouting their views about it being a drug-company, or mask-making one, in league with the various governments.
I am more than confused about it as it is, thank you.
It was late now, so I decided to get back on CorelDraw and try to do up a template for tomorrow before the eyelids start drooping.
Ah, the sun has cast a shadow of the building on the bottom field. As there was an acute shortage of dogs taking their owners for a walk, I decided to take a shot of, I reckon, beautiful scene.
I went to make another mug of Glengettie and washing afterwards, I thought I’d missed a little purple spot on my right palm. I gave it some energetic hammering with bleach, washing up liquid and a scrubbing brush, but no, it didn’t work. On closer inspection, it looked like one of the Clopidogrel blood blisters under the skin? I feel sure that the nurse told me it only affects the legs? Then again, that was when the Peripheral Neuropathy was diagnosed. Since I had the stroke, so that made things come on a little quicker. It is on the right side as well.
I fear not getting my walking in, or even being able to sense things when I touch them like the fingers and hands are now. If any other part of my magnificent, muscle-toned body (Inchcock Fib Detected!) get affected, well, Oh dear! Enough of the bleakness, if it comes, I’ll do what I’ve always done, cry! Hahaha! Only joking! I’ll press on as long as I can. As long as folks read, and get a smile out of my blogs, then I get satisfaction.
I must stop this chit-chatting, and get on with the graphicalisationing.
I got that done (partly anyway), and went to get the meal planned, heated the oven, and later, decided to add some Horlicks to the rice, so it… No, no, that’s not right. Oh, dear, gone memory dead again! I had to go and look at the bottle label. Hickory, that’s what I meant! But I’ve forgotten what I was going to say about it now. Spitworthy-Splurging-Sparrowhawks!
Computer off, and I had to go to the Porcelain Throne! What a harrowing experience that was! Painful with moments of agony. The evacuation was stop-start and took ages. But it was not messy. The worst thing was the amount of blood. It didn’t look like it was from Harold’s Haemorrhoids, a much deeper crimson-like colour, a lot of it! But, it might have been from the piles.
The cleaning up and medicating was a long, uncomfortable job. And changing into new PPs, I lost my balance and hit the wall, then sort of slid down onto the knees, in an almost slow-motion fashion! I think I questioned my parentage afterwards. That did Arthur Itis’s knees a lot of good! I decided as I am in here, I’d get the ablutioning done. Fool!
A few dropsies. I avoided the conflict with the lethal, dangerous, scary, nerve-rendering sock-glide, by not putting any of the bamboo hosiery on. (Coward? Me? Yes!) I did clout the right shin against the mop bucket, and I vociferated with something like, “Oh heck!” (Inchcock Fib Detected).
Limpingly I hobbled to the kitchen. Where I stirred the marinating rice and got it on the lowest setting of heat. Then I got out the pork & leek sausages from the freezer. Gawd, they looked almost white, one was broken, and the skin looked ultra thick. I thought about changing my choice of meat, but stuck with the odd-looking sausages and put the bangers in the pre-heated oven.
The seasoning I’d put in the marinade smelled good.
While the sausages, that the label on the bag said needed 45 minutes to cook.
I got the handwashing tended to. Just a long sleeve t-shirt and a couple of pairs of bamboo socks.
During doing the washing process, I’d got the fabric softener, the Sainsbury’s smelling-like-puke one, out to use, put it back, and rather sillily, left the cupboard door ajar. I caught the right legs shin on the edge of the door. Just my luck, Nicodemus’s nerve-ends had to be working perfectly at the time. I’ll not mention my exclamations used.
All done, wrung and hung, I turned my attention to prepping the meal. The sausages were pale, and the thick skins white. If it wasn’t for the hoisin sauce and hickory colouring them a tad, I don’t think I’d had eaten them at all, they were so unappealing looking. And I’d burnt the rice as well. However, I still served them up on the plastic dish. The last of the tasteless cheesy buns, an apple, lemon yoghourt, two lemon mini-Vienesse cakes, and a can of the Clementine drink rounded of the meal.
I thought I was rather brave, in even trying a bite of the thick-skinned weighty, white sausages. It tasted blandish, but the flavour of the leeks came through. The rice, I enjoyed despite having burnt it a tad. Well, a lot really! Tsk! Taste Rating: 6.5/10. I didn’t eat it all.
The washing up? Well, that was a nightmare. The saucepan that I’d overcooked the rice in, was most reluctant to free the seasoning and rice that was attached to the sides of the pan. Humph! The wooden spoon is still soaking in the bowl, now! I reckon pebble dashing could be done with this rice. Hahaha!
I did a check of the flat, taps (faucets), door for mail, windows, lights, taps (faucets), the stove etc., taps (faucets), and got down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, obnoxiously, odiously, stomach-churningly, beige-coloured, non-working, rickety-recliner.
I had pots of nibbled all around me. Mini-cheddars, walnuts, yoghourt coated cashew nuts and seaweed crispies. But, as I spent a few hours nodding-off and waking up, again and again, only the cashews pot was raided.
I did watch most of the film called ‘Young Sherlock’. I wish I could have stayed awake, but I did enjoy what I managed to view, but of course, have no idea what the plot was fully about, I got the gist of it, I think. Grumph!
I soon nodded off properly, and into sweet Morpheous’s heaven!