Month: April 2020

Inchcockski (In brief) – Sunday 19th April 2020: A Phlubergangski day

2020 ttttApr19

Sunday 19th April 2020

Turkish: 19 Nisan 2020 Pazar

03:50hrs: Woke for the third time, this one involved bubbling, rumbling and grumbling from the innards, which forced me to do what I had been resisting for a while getting up! But I knew the Throne session was likely to be another painful and challenging affair – Gawd blimey was I right!

Got a bit of a wobble on en route to the Porcelain Throne, but nothing overly worrying. A marathon (Ten minutes) slow hurtful grind, to complete the evacuation was as bad as one ever has been. Bloody too, but at least not messy. The wee-weeing was but a trickle. Little Inchies fungal lesion was stinging, but not bleeding. I was baffled by the difficulty I’d had passing. When I left the wet room, it was with a different-styled, more full gate and limp. Hehe!

To the kitchen and made up a cup of Macrodol and sipped it down, leaving a sachet of the, biologically inert, non-absorbable osmotic laxative on the counter, to remind me to take another later. Took the normal medication, and made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, which I took with me to the computer, made a start on the template creating on WordPress and CorelDraw, and let the tea go cold. I carried on with creating today’s and the Monday template, then went to get another brew.

I had another go at getting an Iceland order in. But failure again, no slots available. Ah, well, Nemo Mortalium Omnis Horis Sapit!

Got on with updating the Saturday blog. A long job, compliments of nerve ens of Nicodemus.

I went to make another brew, and it became pellucid, well not clearly, but possibly that I needed another visit to the ~Porcelain Throne… I thought at the time, with the extra churning and bubbling from the innards that were kicking-off.

But, I was bamboozled and fooled again. After much waiting and a complete crossword finished, I assumed things were not going to move. So, I had a wash and to the kitchen to make the brew and of Glengettie. And had another mug of Macrogol. I’ll have to be wary; in case things do start to flow suddenly! But my confidence is low, as is my blood level with all the flipping bleeding!

Finished the blog. Started this one.

Henceforth, I got blank-spells that kept coming an going. Doing the updating in the morning, I found scribbled notes I’d made, so details might be sketchy, and some happenings I can recall with clarity? Poor old sausage!

No dogs and walkers out.

CorelDrawing.

Ablutions: painful, dropsies galore.

Legs misshaped and almost orange coloured?

Josie’s nosh made and delivered. A patched-up meal, kippers cause I’m out of the smoked haddock, A tipple. Josie looking well today.

Jenny bleach. Forgot bleach on the Iceland order, they only sell the one type at the moment, expensive Domestos, but I added one to the order. I thought I’d call Jenny to see if there was any item that she needed adding. But a message came up telling me I had so many minutes to complete the change to the order, so I chickened out and completed added the bleach sharpishly.

Black bags made and sorted (eight) and to the waste chute,

The bleach that Jenny got for me was perfect, Sainsbury’s own label lemon-scented. I have been using two a week. Thanks, Jenny ♥. But not Iceland.

Got the pots washed and started to make my nosh. Took some photos.

I seemed to be coming out of a dream. According to my notes on the pad, when I found the pots had all been cleaned and stuff was taken out ready to do my meal: “Felt not ill, blanks, bleeding, leave out lesion”? Hehe!

While sorting the cooking, I spotted some dogs taking their owners for a walk, below in the bottom field, and took a snap of them. I clearly recall the little black poodle, I think it was, was hyperactive, and the bigger dog, the poor mite, had Arthritis and needed a little prompting from its loving owner.

Had to nip for a Throne visit, but again, it turned out a false alarm.

But, there was bubbling and brewing going on in the innards!

Washed, back to the kitchen, the sky had changed, bootiful!

A canned mixed grill, extra hickory and gravy and black beans added, along with two of the Icelands tasty beef burgers. The bread was a tad dry around the edges, but still.

The burgers were fine, but I got the seasoning wrong. Taste Rating: 6.5/10

Did the washing up again, got head down.

TV on, but blissfully, I fell asleep pretty soon. And it was grand.

A couple of hours later, I woke with a start, most likely from the headphones I’d left on when some music came on the TV. Which was really lucky! The intercom was chiming away. Fumbled out and to the machine, it was the Morrison order I’m made seven weeks ago and thought would be cancelled!

Pressed the man in, and got some trews on, by which time he was at the door. He left the bags in the hall, said something I didn’t catch, and off he trotted.

I got the bags into the kitchen. What a great surprise.

Shame I’d just made an order in with Iceland for tomorrow, now I’m really going to struggle to make room in the fridge and freezer! Oh, dearie me!

A few unavailables, and substitutions, as was to be expected. Shame I ordered the mil from Iceland now, they had substituted a 1-litre with 2-litre whole milk. The only thing that I was bothered about was having no Lemon Meringue mousse, I’m getting withdrawal symptoms. Hehe!

I struggled to keep concentration as I faffed about making room in the refrigerator and freezer for the food.

I’m afraid the two hours kip I enjoyed, was to be all of the sleep for the night. I did have a few nod-offs, but each lasted only a few minutes, I’d wake, and the Thought Storms would howl away at me.

Humph!

 

Inchcockski – Saturday 18th April 2020: I am slowly being driven higher up the wall. Haha!

Saturday 18th April 2020

Filipino: Sabado 18 Abril Abril 2020

03:15hrs: I woke up, with the theme tune, “Life, is the name of the game, and I wanna play the game with you” ringing in my head? It took me a while to recall where the tune was from.

It was the introduction to Bruce Forsyth’s Generation Game. What brought this to mind, I don’t know. But I do remember watching it all those years ago and being amazed at how much work Bruce put into it to make it work. My favourite Game Show of them all on TV.

On the radio, it was Just a Minute, with host Nicholas Parsons, Clement Freud, Kenneth Williams, Derek Nimmo, and Peter Jones, they were my preferred panellists. Two shows I hated to miss, and the reason for my buying my first tape recorder and DVD. Ah, they were the days!

I seem to remember getting home and putting the motorbike away in a rush, to get in and my new colour TV (Wigfalls 3/6d [17½p] a week rental) on to watch it. Happy Days! The Larry Grayson and Jim Davidson efforts at hosting the later shows, were as expected, abysmal. I just thought I’d mention it, like.

As I lay there, hearkening back to my more confident, happy and in good health days, the stomach-churning burst into life. Thus the one thing that mattered (I thought at the time), was to escape the £300, second-hand, none-working, c1968, rickety recliner, catch my balance and stick, to get to the wet room lickety-split! Which, I surprised myself in doing quickly and accident-free, Slight swagger mode adopted (Temporarily).

I shall not go into too much detail of the terrible, trying, tantamount to agony-ridden evacuation.  But Constipation Conrad had the upper-hand in the battle. I was on the Throne for about 20-minutes. The crossword book as tackled. Blood flowed. And all with the one line of the ‘the Generation Game’ milling about in my head. Hehe!

Then, as I made my way to the kitchen, Toothache Terence kicked off. Soon to be joined by Dizzy Dennis and Shaking Shaun. And extra Cocodamol was taken with the Codeine and other medications. For about five minutes, the mind-haze and memory loss had me worried. I was so close to pressing the alarm wristlet, thinking what can tell them, how do I explain what I’m going through without sounding potty? I was so pleased when things seemed suddenly to go back to my usual, merely semi-confused state. Yet, puzzled to how quickly and abruptly, things changed again.

Of course, this triggered the fretting all over again, it always does when I have a memory blank, even a short couple of minutes one like this; I just had to check things, taps, lights, stove, door. When I got to the hallway, I found two letters on the floor.

One double-sided A4 from Citycare. I p[ointed out their plans an dedication to making sure we are all safe and instructed us what to do if we have any of the symptoms of the COVID-19 (Coronavirus). We have to call 0300 131 0300 – Option 1, then Option 5, between 0830am to 1700hrs pm, Monday to Friday. Being as it is Saturday morning now, I hope I do not get any symptoms for two days.

They also kindly gave us a 107 digit email address to use. That’s a guess at the number, cause Saccades-Sandra is playing up and I can’t focus properly to read it. Luckily, Saccades and other ailments I have are not sufficient to get me a weekly food parcel. So, I shall be of no bother to them. And am so glad that Nottinghamshire County Council, have supplied Sister Jane and hubby Pete with a delivered box of food weekly. Jane told me this while she was out shopping for eggs, bacon and some wine. They didn’t take the car or electric bike with them, that remained in the new garage at the mansion on the tree-lined avenue, with the eleven CCTV cameras, burglar alarms, pressure alarm pads and wine cellar. But, I’m contented in my three-roomed flat and being isolated and unable to get food.

Shame I don’t qualify for a weekly food parcel, but there you are. I’ll just stay here, with Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters dying and Peripheral Neuropathy making me have accidents and dropping things, scolding myself etc., Mechanical Aorta valve replacement, Hernia Harold, Burgabasia-Bernie, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, Stuttering Stephany, Anne Gyna, Rheumatoid Arthur Itis, Little Inchies Fungal Lesion bleeding away accompanied my Haemarrahoid Harold, Fluid Retention Robert, Furesomide induced wee-wees, Craig Cramps, Dizzy Dennis, Back-Pain-Brenda, falling over when I get an involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance from Neuropathic Nigel’s right leg, Conrad Constipation, Reflux Valve Roger sticking, Prediabetes Petunia demands, injecting Enoxaparin in my tummy,  battling and getting injured by the Sock-glide, coping with the memory blanks, and picking at the bloodied scars from Clopidogrel Clive’s growths on my legs.

As I said, at least I don’t qualify for a food parcel, like others who have cars, wealth, health and the nerve to accept their food parcels. At least I have Jenny ♥ keeping her eye on me, and others, and a caretaker who brought me a bottle of bleach when he heard I couldn’t get enough.

But, it doesn’t bother me at all! Tsk! Hehehe!

I made a start on checking Emails and went to check up on the latest Coronavirus statistic.

Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failed at just the wrong, the most inopportune time!

The right hand did one of its as yet rare, shooting off in varying directions, just as I was typing. The bout merely lasted a few seconds.

But it was long enough for me to get this these two windows to appear on the computer screen!

I don’t know what the fingers or hand hit to get these up, but it frit me I can tell yers!

Being a computer workings idiot is not easy. Becoming one was!

I thought I’d buggered it up now! Understanding things, working out what it was on the screen was beyond me.

Fear of losing the computer and depression took over the mind for a minute or two.

I closed the windows and sighed muchly with relief when things seemed to be working okay.

Maybe, if things ever get back to normal, I might be able to find a college or something that runs courses on understanding the workings of a computer. What am I thinking? with my memory? And the courses will be night ones! And Nicodemus’s nerve-ends are dying anyway, so are not going to get any better, only worse, which means I’ll have to eventually give up computing all together, that hurts!

I continued to search for the virus figures. I don’t think they are anything to get too hopeful about yet.

I went to make a mug of Glengettie and came out of the doldrums a little. Especially as I made the brew, without any spills, shakes or nerve-end interference. That was a nice change.

Then, carrying the tea into the junk room, I dropped the mug! I was so low in spirits, it didn’t seem to bother me much. I just cleaned up the mess, thinking how lucky I was in not breaking the cup.

I was determined to pull myself from the darkness.

The cold sunshine went in, and a tiny few spots of a shower fell. It lasted only for a minute or so. I carefully made another brew, Thompsons Punjana this time. Then took a couple of pictures of Chestnut Walk. There was still an earthy petrichor smell already, which was lovely.

A couple of free parking spaces, and no illegal parking at this end of the walk, ah, Saturday innit! Oh, I just noticed there was a bit of naughty parking on the double yellow lines. I think they have wisely decided to ignore this activity, with us having so few spaces available.

At long last, I got the updating started for the Friday blog. Soon got it finished, thanks to Nicodemus being kind, and despite Shaking Shaun doing his best to knobble my typing. Haha!

The rear-end wind continues to plump and plop, but not foul-smelling. Ah, I must take a mug of Macrogol first. If Colin Cramps lets me, he’s having another bash at the poor old fingers now. Dangwangles!

Checked the comments. Then some bits on Pinterest. Next, the WordPress Reader. Then onto TFZer Facebooking. Then I tried to get an Iceland order in, but no luck, slots unavailable. Even if they were, I can still only be allowed one bottle of bleach. Nowhere near enough for a week for me. Thankfully, Robert, our caretaker brought me a bottle that’s getting me through for a few days.

Much CorelDrawing, making graphics for the blog tomorrow.

Mental fatigue made me leave the CorelDrawing.

I got the handwashing sorts out. Dressing gown, jammie bottoms and socks. All done, wrung and hung. I put the gown to hang in the wet room. 

Got the ablutions done. No sock-glide confrontation, I left the bamboo socks off. The dropsies were a little higher than of late, that would be due to Nicodemus’s nerve-ends not sending any contact messages to the brain. At times this can get confusing and so frustrating. Especially when folks say, ‘Just be careful!’ Looking at me as if I’m an idiot.

Which is true! Haha! Because the neurotransmitters fail to tell the brain, as they come on and off-line variably and at their will.

The shaving produced a few tiny nicks, nowt serious. Little Inchies lesion had bled only a few spits, again, no hassle; even the applying of the Cortiscord cream was not too painful. Which was a nice change for me!

I got the nosh sorted out. Chicken breast, and tried the weirdly named Iceland fries, branded as ‘Naturally Imperfect Chips’. They were okay. The chicken breasts were a bit rubbery. Some seaweed crispies and an apple on the side on another plate. Two mini-Vienesse lemon cakes. No, that’s what they are called. I went to look at the part empty box. Lemon Whirls. A can of the delightfully tangy Clementine drink, too.

Ate it all, and I’d had my fill. Oh, the apple was awful, soft, dry! Never mind. A Flavour Score of 6/10.

I went to do the washing up and espied some dogs taking their owners for a walk in the bottom field.

I wish I could have a cat here in the flat, but I can understand the impracticality of it fully. I can take tumbles easily enough now, with the dizzies and neuropathic dancing legs, Arthur Itis… and a multitude of others with a ‘Let’s-Have-Inchcock-all-over-fancying’ nature. Imagine me having a pet to fall over as well! Hehehe! But it’s still sad making.

I got down in the Zyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward, and pilfering my money, recliner.

I watched a film all the way to the end; but with perhaps about fifteen few-minute nod-offs in between. Waste of time, I couldn’t follow the plot.

I lay afterwards, trying to ignore the rampant Thought-Storms, mostly of guilt, self-hatred, and isolation problems.

I must have nodded off eventually, cause I woke up in the morning! Hangalisationing Horror-time!

 

Inchcocksi – Frabjous, fractious, fragmental, furious, frangible and freaky Fri 17 April!

Friday 17th April 2020

Indonesian: Jumat 17 April 2020

02:10hrs: I woke with two voices talking to me, both apparently, mine? One said “Sod-it, go back to sleep,  soddum all!” the naughty me. The other, obviously a more conscientious me, said, “Don’t mess about, it takes you that long to get anything done nowadays, here is your chance to get caught up on your CorelDrawing, come on, gerrup!” The naughty me won this argument, and I drifted off back into slumberland!

05:00hrs: I’d been having a bad dream, where I was being chased by a gang of armed, vicious, blood-thirsty hoodlums again, through demolished offices, I sprang awake. Passed wind violently, and the innards started churning and rumbling, and a tummy-ache of Defcon Two proportions kicked in. My immediate thought, was, is this through those damned pork and leek sausages I ate last night? They looked almost white, the skin was three or four times the usual thickness for wienerwursts, I was a bit doubtful about eating them at the time. But I think not, cause they were very mild with a delicate taste of leeks, any pork flavour had done a bunk.

 I had no option other than to get my still aching from cleaning up the flood mess body, dragged off of the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner, with some difficulty. Arthur Itis and Back-Pain-Brenda being the main culprits. Grabbed the stick, and wobbled to the wet room.

 And to think that I thought yesterday’s last visit was a painful one! This was a painful one! I almost tired myself out with all the agonising force needed to get things through. But at least, the bleeding was no worse, and not a messy evacuation.

Washed, and off to make a brew and take the medications. Toothache Terence wasn’t too bad for once, so no extra painkillers were taken… of course, I’ll probably get a Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance, Dizzy Dennis spell, or Shaking Shaun attack and injure myself later, and end up taking one anyway. (Depressed? Lack of Confidence? Anxiety? Insecurity? Self-doubt?, Self-loathing? Nervousness? Defeatism? Negativity? Pessimism? Demoralised? Despondent? Melancholia? Me? Yes!)

I took a couple of snaps of the view outside. The mist was clearing, I just wish the fog of depression would go away from me.

 On to the computer, and made a start on the updating of the Thursday post. It became a tad farcical, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were on and off, which meant it took me even longer than I expected. Saccades-Sandra kept making focussing difficult at times. But neither were consistent, they keep coming and going. This was getting to me today. Hours were lost in just correcting things done wrongly through the senseless fingers or Sandra’s blurring of vision. What with the floods that were my fault, the struggle to sort out food, not being considered at risk, so no food parcels, I fear that depression is coming over me again. Sickly, pathetic self-pity! Humph!

I made the comments on WordPress and then went on the Reader Section.

My usual heart and enthusiasm were not with me. I didn’t, couldn’t, seem to snap out of it this morning.

I checked the emails, I can’t work out if the virus situation is getting easier or not. Confirmed cases seem to be getting fewer. But, of course, there are millions of people who have not had any checks yet, so, if they check fewer patients, the figure will go down? And the deaths recorded are only those who died in a hospital. The hundreds who have died in care homes or their own home are not registered. According to the Guardian newspaper anyway.

 Boy, I’m on a downer today!

I emailed the blog link and pressed on, stutteringly with this blog.

The landline tinkled and flashed. Sister Jane, who was out shopping, to get some eggs on Central Avenue in West Bridgford, rang me from the ‘Social Distance’ waiting queue! She said she was at number 18 on the list.

It really cheered me up a bundle, when I was informed that she and Pete had had there weekly freebie box of food delivered today. Fruits, canned goods, pasta, toilet rolls, vegetables, sauces, rice, cakes, bread etc., oh, I was pleased for them! I’m not complaining really (much!), I did get a loaf of bread and bottle of milk last week from the Nottingham City Council.

It seems I am not ill enough or do not have sufficient ailments for me to qualify as in need, for any food parcels. Nottingham County Council, give them out to fit people of the same age as me. Who are pools and lottery winners, have been left a fortune by unknown distant relatives, retired at 32, live in a mansion, on a tree-lined avenue, with a bus service at both ends of the road, car-owners as well! Luckily, this does not bother me.  Hehehe!

 Well, I might add something to the list of my ailments (Which are, Reflux Valve sticking, Mechanical Aorta Heart valve fitted, Duodenal ulcer, Hernia, Ever bleeding piles and awaiting a strangulation operation, Peripheral Neuropathy, Rheumatoid Arthritis, Ischemic stroke, given Clopidgrel in hospital and found to be allergic to it, but it’s in my bloodstream, and blotches, lumps on the ever-changing legs have to be contended with now. Dizzy spells every day, At risk for falls, Saccades, Thrombophlebitis, and Neurotransmitters dying (right side of my body) which makes walking and keeping balance very difficult. Deafness, Warfarin for life, Bladder cancer. And now Stuttering-Stephanie (along with the deafness) is making life and communicating a bloody nightmare at times!

But this list above is not enough to get a food parcel. I’ll see if I can catch something else to add to these and try again. Depressed? Me?

I went to make a start on prepping for the meal later. I got some canned potatoes in the saucepan, (Took them out of the can first, mind) and added some hoisin sauce and hickory.

I emptied the beef in onion into the pan with the potatoes. Unfortunately, Nocodemus’s nerve ends failed while I was pouring in the hickory, the whole lot tipped into the saucepan! I spent the next hour or so, keeping nipping in to extract some gravy and add boiling water, to weaken the juice. Boy, it was intense! Hehe! Another mess to clear up. Tsk!

The mist had cleared. I took a photo of towards Nottingham. Then zoomed right in to try and get a decent shot of the high-rise student flats right in the distance (Near the centre of the panorama photo).

A lady Vapour was taking her three doggies for a walk. I tried to catch all three dogs with her in one shot, but the younger one was very lively. Hahaha! I did manage to get one chance.

Well, I wanted to do some more graphics, but Saccades and Nicodemus decided I shouldn’t.

So I got the nosh sorted out. I had overdone it with spilling the hickory into the stew. I and to remove a lot of gravy and weaken it, before serving it up. But it was worth the effort, it tasted most delightful! The flavour rating was a worthy 8/10.

I got it all slowly masticated and digested, got the washing-up done (Slow job).

The door chime rang out, and I stumbled to the door. It was Robert. Our caretaker, he’d kindly brought me a bottle of bleach. I think I must have mentioned to him on Wednesday, about not being able to get any. Kind of him. I ignorantly did not offer to pay for the bleach, I was half-out of things with Dizzy Dennis having a go at me at the time. Sorry, Robert, and thanks. Saved the day for me there!

Settled to watch some TV, got my head down a bit earlier today, in hopes of getting some sleep in for a change. (Oy vey!) The self-derogatory thought-Storming started almost straight away! On, and on they flowed. Eventually, and thankfully, I nodded off…

The landline rang and flashed, I struggled to get to the phone in time. I was the nice lady from the NCC Support Team. But Stuttering Stephanie came online, and the worst visit ever, I could hardly get words out, and when I did, the poor lady could not decipher them. Then said, “You don’t sound too well, I’ll ring you back later another day.” I thanked her, but then again, I think I thanked her and seemed to find myself back down on the recliner, with a blank period in between talking and getting sat down.

Sleep had decided it would not return again, I’d upset it I think with keeping getting up.

I spent hours, musing, thinking, Thought-Storming, and passing wind!

Inchcock: 16 Apr 2020: Mentally thorny, labyrinthial, Thursday

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!

And, down towards Chestnut Walk

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!

Inchcockski – Wednesday 15th April 2020: Ah, a betterer day!

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!

Inchcockski – Tue 14 Apr 2020: Adscititious, malapropos ailments today. Ah-well!

Tuesday 14th April 2020

Malay: Selasa 14 April 2020

 02:35hrs: As I stirred, thoughts of my pathetic, wretched, feeble amnesiac moment last night, and the ensuing flood, was grinding away at my brain and giving the stomach a taste of bile and acid.

I felt no self-pity for the physical pains I found myself in this morning, most of them were from the hours of cleaning up the bathroom, well, wetroom, and all the bending, the tumbles I took doing it, and all with the knowledge that it was, after all, my own fault! I hope and pray the person below has not got much of a mess.

I fumbled out of the £300, second-hand, none-operational, rickety recliner, to the wet room for a wee. Discovering on the slow, careful, unbalanced hobbling to get there, on arrival, that boy, it was still a mess, after hours of doing my best to sort things out last night and into this morning. I had to set too again!

On near completion, I bent down to pick up the shower chair – and hit my cheek on edge of the lethal, cruel, cursed sock-glide, lurking ready to pounce on the seat! I quietly muttered a few oaths and curses!

Then I laughed gaily and started to sing ♫I’ve Got the Whole World in my Hands…♫ This is a factless-fiction, and a fib here, sorry!

Hahaha! I swear I heard mechanical laughter coming from somewhere! I was a walking example, (well, hobbling) of mental and physical inabilities and deformities.

I did resist grabbing hold of the glide and misshaping and twisting, contorting it, though. I realised I will need it later, the state Arthur Itis’s knees, Back-Pain-Brenda and the feet are in after all the bending down I’d just done, it would be an impossibility to get the hosiery on by hand, these knees, the back and Anne Gynas input would never let me. Oh, and I had to use Drain-Unblocker, two-bottles, get the last of the stagnant water, I’d missed last night to go down! Unblocker, all gone now, what chance of any being on sale for delivery?

Well, I’ve got sod-all done other than trying to correct my mega-Whoopsiedangle up to now. I considered having an antejentacular feast of some mini-cheddars. But as I regained a semi-perpendicular position, the humungous, wobbling stomach, plopped and bounced, and nearly had me over again! So, I desisted from picking at the Branston pickled nibbles. (A smidge of will-power there, did you see that?, Haha!)

I made up two more black bags of rubbish, and took them along with the five from yesterday, out and to the waste chute. Another Accifauxpas, after the struggle to carry the bags and walking stick to get there, I got in the room, okay but the first bag got trapped, stuck half-way. Trying to free the bloody free, I used the walking stick to reach to encourage it to disappear down the chute. As it plopped through, a smile nearly came on my face… but Peripheral Pete decided this would be an excellent time for him to activate the right leg, into a Neuropathic Schuhplattler dancing routine! Frogglemoths!

Not having the stick, which was still stuck down the shaft at the time. As soon as the ten-second imitation of a cross between the Waltz and the Okey-Coky stopped, I fell in a heap on the floor. Serendipitously, all the other bags were on the deck, for me to land on! And without any pain much at all! Which thinking about it, meant that Nicodemus’s Neurotramitter nerve ends, were not on-line, else I would have felt something other than just a jolt. Of course, sometimes the message does get to the brain, but later, so I’m hoping for the best, but pleased about it at the time.

Getting back on my feet was not easy, nothing in the room other than the chute-poster lid was solid enough to be of use to me. But I retrieved the stick while still on the floor, and got myself perpendicularish, and loaded the rest of the bags, one by one. I actually felt a smidge proud as I hobbled back to the flat.

Back in the apartment, I realised how long I’d been up, and still not made astart on the blog updating! So, I took the medications, I left the antisepticating, creaming and oilings until ablution time. Once I got the computer going, the gang of Shuddering Shoulder Shirley, Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis, Saccades Sandra, and Nicodemus were all kind to me, and progress was, for once, made with relative ease. Smug-Mode-Engaged!

Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, Anne Gyna, and Hernia Henry were all in an opposing frame of mind with me, and the pains flowed consistently. But, that is to be expected, with last night and this morning’s physical jerks with the flood damage limitationing. But straight pain, I can handle better than most, and work with it to a limit. The nerve-ends dying and unaccountable on-off mode, and the depressions that get to me more. So, I was pleased with how things went today, on the updating. Got it emailed, and sent off to the WordPress site.

I thought I’d try again to get an Iceland order in. Nope, but I got one in last week after seeing these similar slot graphs, so I’ll have another go later.

Send bits to Pinterest, then on the TFZer site for a good while, well over an hour.

I called Jenny on the phone, to ask if it was alright for me to take the bits up for her and Frank, and leave then outside her door and ring the bell. I got the okay. She said she would leave a note for me, to give the taxi driver in the morning, in case Stuttering Stephanie was making things awkward for me. That’s kind of her, bless her cotton socks. I think she’ll like the stuff this time, and if not, there is no one better at making sure the fodder goes to a worthy cause, so either way someone will benefit who deserves it. She will let me know what time the taxi is due in the morning.

I made a start on this blog, better late than never. But after an hour or so, I thought I’d try Iceland again, I really would like to get some more of their own label beefburgers back in stock they are not fatty and taste delicious! This is what they look like. so you know what to look for folks. Mind you, they may not have any in stock. And…

By, Jiminy, I got a message telling me I am in a queue! Grrreat! A couple of minutes later, and I was and giving an order. I only had 30 minutes to get it done, so could not phone Jenny to ask if she wanted anything adding, mind you, I can do that later, I think.

Blimey, they had stuff on offer, 3 for so-much, but were not allowing any more than 2 to be bought! Bleach was limited to one bottle of the one brand they had in stock. They did have some of the beefburgers in – Tadaa! But they had gone up by 85p! Still, they are worth it. I ordered a new brand of chips, called by the name of, ‘Naturally Imperfect Chips’? They can cook oven to fried, and they are so cheap at £1, I tried one on the order. They did not have any full cream milk, though, but I’m sure I can manage. The cooked meats and other stuff was one only per order as well. I didn’t order any tomatoes, the last lot from Algeria were like red ball-bearings. So, I’m hoping it all arrives for me.

I nipped down and dropped the bag off at Jenny’s. She’s left a printer typed note for me to hand to the driver, in case Stuttering Stephanie is bothering me.

As I was coming back up,  the lower right leg started to sting, and it felt like I had worms wriggling under the skin? I took a look, and it seemed to me that the Clopidorel effect was returning again. We’ll see if the veins start bursting again. If its the spider or iliac veins, nowt to fret much over. But, it will be another story if Varicose-Veins-Victor’s bleed. Still, no need to panic, even if whatever it is, is tingling and tender at the moment.

I put tomorrows Iceland order on the Google calendar, they will be arriving twixt midday and 14:00hrs tomorrow. So, I should hopefully be back from the bank in plenty of time.

It’s getting very late now, but I need to make some graphics for tomorrows template. I had a quick bash at the WP comments, made a brew, then got on with some graphicationalising.

As I stood up, Back-Pain-Brenda and Anne Gyna, joined moments later by Duodenal Donald in giving me some stick. As I grabbed the stick and started to hobble into the kitchen, the tingling in the right lower leg, turned to proper-pain. I don’t like to brag, but my guess looked like being right for once. The spider and iliac veins were coming through. Plenty of other ailments to guess at for this. Colin Cramps, Clopidogrel Clive, maybe Peripheral Pete.

What next? and my Doctor and Nottingham City homes don’t think I’m an at-risk old man? I’ve flooded the place and my poor neighbours below, too! I’m in agony, bleeding from various orifices and the veins… Never mind. I’ve the bonus of having Jenny keeping an eye on me and helping.

Duodenal Donald was taking control, and I gave up thinking about CorelDrawing when Nicododemus’s nerve-ends started going on strike again. Ah, that’ll be it then. The message about the tumble earlier, must have just got through to the brain?

But not to worry, I’m not at risk. I’d better get the lesion cleaned up and medicated.

I’m a lot betterer off than the poor mites in a 54-bed nursing home in Nottinghamshire, who have had 9 patients die from Corona-19, in the last four days! (Nottingham Post)

I’ll get something to eat then. Canned chilli con carne, haricot beans, added tomato juice and some Hickory.

Lemon Vienesse cakes, apple, and a can of the delicious Clementine drink. Flavour: 7/10

Yet again, sleep was reluctant to come to me. The mixed Thought Storms lasted longer than ever.

Inchcock: Mon 13 Apr: A new hatred today, of my inadequacies, incapabilities, incompetencies and infirmities! Devastating depression! Damn-life!

But Clap, I will!

Monday 13th April 2020

Mongolian: 2020 оны 4-р сарын 13-ны Даваа гараг

06:00hrs: I Woke up, wanting a wee-wee. Moved and felt the wet warm wriggly feeling from the lower regions. So, I launched (Well, struggled out of) my overweight wobbly-stomached body out of the £300, second-hand, none-working recliner, and made my way to the wet-room. Where the innards decided I also needed to use the Porcelain Throne. Heck of a job, a touch of reluctance, constipation coming on I think? But the evacuation was still far less painful than it has been of late.

While I was performing, the mind appeared to be calmer than last night, and a new temporary, no doubt, eagerness and willingness showed in my actions. Scary! Hehe! I think I might have been rubbing the knee bruise last night in my sleep, it looked a tad tender, but no real pain as such.

I returned to the rickety-recliner room and checked for any signs of nocturnal nibbling, or somnambulating having taken place. No tipped over items or bread or biscuit crumbs were found. I’d had a much needed, agreeable and encouraging six-hours kip. Which meant less time to get things done today. (I do moan on, don’t I?)

I made a tasty strong brew of my beloved Thompsons Punjana tea, ominously passed wind, and took the morning medications.

With rising from my slumber so late, the latest for many a month, it was light already. So, I took a few photographs of the scenes outside.

Directly below, Chestnut Walk
To the right
To the left

It was strange not to see any pets, birds or tellurians of any kind at all!

I went back into the main room and decided not to get dressed or washed yet. But just put the dressing gown and slippers on, the pins looked much improved on yesterday.

Then as I was setting up the computer, I had a visit from one of Peripheral Pete’s, right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances. As serendipitously, I fell bum first into the recliner as I lost balance. I’ve now got bleeding from Harold’s haemorrhoids and a new bruise coming up, but I was not bothered about this, cause it could have been a lot worse, even fatal! Especially with being a bank holiday. Off to the wet room, to tend to Little Inchies fungal lesion and Harold’s piles. Got things cleaned and medicated without too much hassle or pain, this time.

I used the last kitchen roll in the wet-room, so went to fetch some more from the junk room. One loose one, and another roll from the new pack of three. I noted that the new roll, same brand and price and both from Iceland, was thinner and narrower than the one I bought before. Bit of a con going on here methinks? The rolls I use as a handkerchief and glasses and blood cleaner for Little Inchie and Harold are not going to last long! Gullibleiitis Inchcock!

I got on the computer, and CorelDraw to make up a header graphic. Well, that didn’t last for long.

Of course, I am not in the least bit jealous. Oh, no. Well, yes, I am! Hehehe!

However, I struggled on, battling repeated Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitter failures, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley and Shaking Shaun’s interruptions! Caterwauling and Ululations mode adopted! Finally getting the blog updated, emailed and posted off.

I phoned Jenny to see about Tuesday’s trip to the bank. I know it’s nothing new, but I did feel a right fool! It is Wednesday when I have to go, not Tuesday. I checked on the Google Calendar, and saw I’d made another faux pas! Humph! Nottingham’s Bunglebrain strikes again! I am a flipping pain! Jenny kindly offered to ring the bank to make sure what time they open, and she’ll let me know, and will order a taxi for me, too! That’s so kind of the busy gal. ♥

I got some pictures on Pinterest. Then I went on the WordPress Reader to catch up. Then had hours on the TFZer Facebooking, I love it!

I tried to get an order on for Iceland for bread and their wonderful tasting beefburgers really, but no slots were available again. Shame!

The door chime rang! I was the Amazon delivering the keyboard cleaner. No instructions with it. Not that I have time to use it anyway. It’s gone midday already! Josie handed me the parcel, and scooted off, wisely from any close contact.

I thanked her as she disappeared in her door, holding her nose. This turmoil being caused!

Back on the computer, at last, to make a start on this blog. After around ten minutes, the door chime rang out again. It was Josie, telling me a loaf and bottle of milk had been unexpectedly delivered from Nottingham City homes. Now that was nice of them! Great timing too! Josie again was there and put the things inside the door for me. 

I gave Jane and Pete a tinkle, but no answer. I’m hoping they have gone out somewhere, but I’ll ring again later. I hope they are both alright.

I tried Iceland again, still no slots. Blooming good job that the NCH helped me out! Looks like thick white bread sarnies tonight. I’ve got an out of date can of pork knuckle left, I might have a bash at that! When; I don ‘t know, it’s gone 16:00hrs now.

I got on with the updating again. Then, I went to make a brew of Thompsons Punjana and spotted some dog walking their owner, so I took a couple of shots. Several actually, but only these two came out worthy of using.

I took a picture of the clouds in the sky.

At least this one was to be useable first effort. Hehe!

The weather and wind seemed warm today.

I gave Jane another ring on the mobile. It didn’t connect, just three bleeps and it cut off? Also, a message said I have ‘Active Alerts’, what are they?

I did a search for ‘Active Alerts’ on Google. I got this explanation: Wireless Emergency Alerts (WEA, formerly known as the Commercial Mobile Alert System (CMAS), and prior to that as the Personal Localized Alerting Network (PLAN)), is an alerting network in the United States designed to disseminate emergency alerts to mobile devices such as cell phones and pagers. Obviously an American reason.

So, I searched again. 

This time I got, Mobile Alert System: with this showing on the right.

I wasn’t doing very well, was I?

So another try.

I’m not learning much here!

I looked in the messages, but nothing there?

I tried Jane again. Got to ringing, but no answer. I’m worried, now. I managed to get hold of Pete’s number from the memory and rang him.

Thank God, everything was alright! Stuttering-Stephany made it hard for the pair to understand what I was saying a bit.

Jane had somehow turned down her ringing volume on her £499 new mobile phone. (I jest, it was £520 really). Hahaha!

Xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete and I had a natter, and I rang Jane back to make sure her £500, Samsung Smartphone Galaxy S9 (Double Sim) 128GB was set right now.

Then, now relaxed knowing things were alright with Jane and Pete, my thoughts turned to fodder! Pork knuckle, seaweed crispies, bread and butter and out of date, but tasty, last two bits of cheese. Clementine drink, lemon yoghourt and an apple. Taste, 7/10.

Ate it up, rushed to wet room for a wee-wee, took medications and down in the recliner and actually fell asleep!

I woke and put the gogglebox on. Kept hearing musical sounds that I thought might be the intercom, a few times I got up grabbed the stick and checked the box and the door, but no flashing box or anyone at the door.

This happened three or four times, and it was driving me bonkers! The next time, I checked again, and…

: Every fibre of faith, interest in life, and a dose of self-hatred like never before, came over me! It was a plumber from the flat below!

I was flooding the apartment beneath me! He went in and I went to check the kitchen, fearing I’d left the tap running again.

It turned out the bathroom sin tap had been left running, with a cloth-rag blocking the drain hole! The wet room and carpet flooded, the drain blocked, a right liquid mess!

The demoralisation and a sickening-gut feeling, and disgust in myself were instant! The man shot off back to the poor devil’s flat below, telling me it just needs a bit of a mop-up.

Duodenal Donald kicked in moments later, and is still this morning giving me bother like it hasn’t for years!

Self-loathing, Thought-Storms, I felt pathetic and useless. I set about getting the carpet out, and the n the slow job of mopping up and cleaning. The peripheral neuropathy, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley and Shaking Shaun, combined to ensure I kept tipping over the bucket, dropping the mop, and banging various parts of myself against anything hard-enough to hurt me! Every step from wet room to the kitchen to empty the mop bucket got increasingly more difficult and painful.

By the time I’d got it done as best I could, I as in real agony and more annoyed with myself than ever. Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, Back-Pain-Brenda, Dizzy Dennis, Anne Gyna, and even Hernia Henry joined in giving me some hassle.

Harold Haemorrhoids and Little Inchies Fungal Lesion were both bleeding, with all the bending. It was a bad enough scenario, my hating myself for my stupidity, without so much physical pain ganging up on me.

I could not get to sleep again. The body was stiffening, and depression rounded off my uncomfortableness. This may mean the end of my tenancy? I can’t blame them.

I’ve been asking for help on this blog, with my memory, despair, deafness, Mind Storms etc. for years as they all got worse.

Things are not good, and I am now at a severe depth of darkness, like never before.

The Coronavirus, only makes things even worse.

The fixity of purpose, the strength to fight on, all weaken at times like this.

Inchcock Today: Sun 12 Apr 2020: Sister Jane, called me a poindexter today. I’ll look it up later. Hehe!

I don’t read newspapers, or watch the news so often nowadays!

Sunday 12th April 2020

Basque: 2020ko Apirilaren 12a, Igandea

05:25hrs: It took me that long to get to sleep, I slept through to 0525hrs, I can’t recall any dreaming though. But waking up didn’t seem like a reasonable idea at the time.

I’ll tell you why. As I manipulated my overly sized body mass, to jiggle a bit, to work out which ailments were active this morning;

First thing as I hedged my bulk to the right. The Pillow-Shaker Fire Alarm activated. Naturally, this diverted my disease, injuries, and bodily-scars, seeking plans, as I fumbled to get my hearing aids in, grabbed the walking stick, and with ears peeled, I went to investigate the reason. A sort of delayed realisation came to me, and a semi-panic took a hold.

  • My apartment fire alarm was not going off, so I assumed it was the main one, which I have to open the front door so I can hear it. I did the usual touching the door handle with the back of my hand to see if it was hot. (I was pretty pleased with myself for remembering to use the left hand, in case Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters that fail on the right side of my body were on strike, [I became Smug-and-Satisfied temporarily]) Had the nerve-ends gone into failed-mode, they would nit informed the brain, and I just might have opened the door to be greeted by a wall of flame or black smoke in the mush. But no sounds heard, so I went to check out of the kitchen window to see if the fire brigade were on site.
  • Not an easy job, with these new thick-framed, view-blocking, rain letting-in windows. The wide window ledges that stick out far too long, mean I have to stand on the stepladder to see the view below! (I bet this isn’t mentioned in the Nottingham City Homes advertising or commercial bumf anywhere!)
  • I had to go through to get the stepladders from the junk room and managed, with no difficulty gave myself a cracking, whinge-making toe-stubbing against the ladders as I tried to carry them and the stick back to the kitchen!
  • I opened the dangerous unwanted, unliked, fear-giving window, and as I climbed up to take a look outside, I hit my Arthur Itis-ridden knee against the corner of the ladder platform. (I think I might have said something like ‘Oh bother!’ at the time) It took me several injuries, and a lot of time, before I found out, there are no fire engines anywhere.
  • I gingerly alighted the stepladder. Ad sense, logicality and obviousness came over me (A rarity indeed!) I asked myself, “Why the %☺@$ hell didn’t you just go on the balcony to look? I had many answers to this self-imposed question, but none of them was realistic, believable, or sensible! My confidence, never high at the best of times, sank a little more.

I took the stepladder back. It’s hard work carrying that with the stick, a bruised toe, and a very-most painful patella; I can tell yer! As I went, I maundered on at myself and realised things were not going get any better, my EQ told me. I was mentally preparing for some type of zemblanity, disaster, or general disappointment.

Having aboulomania, pathological-indecisiveness, a lack of confidence, and inability to do anything about this makes life difficult at times. The bad memory, insomnolence, and Stuttering Stephanie don’t help much. Hello, I’m wavering toward self-pity again! Come on Inchie, buck yourself up, take it like a man… well, imitation man, at least!

I got the area around the £300 second-hand, c1968, sickeningly beige-coloured, not working recliner cleared up! I could not see any signs of nocturnal nibbling, but things were not in their usual places or positions, and slow but sure, the various ailments started kicking off as I tided up a bit. Fluid-Retention Robert had filled the legs a bit more. Blotchy Belinda has visited the groin area. Little Inchies fungal lesion had been bleeding, and the blood had dried (I’m not looking forward to the medicating at all!). Clopidogrel Clive had removed no end of his spots and odd marks overnight? Reflux Roger and Hard-Breathing Boris were giving me some gip! Toothache Terence was back. And now, Colin cramps has just started on the hands and fingers.

I tried to get a delivery slot from Iceland. It appears the yare fully booked until next Friday. Shame!

Computing, template, the updating for hours. By the time I stopped, I had a hatred of Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, and they’re forever failing and returning, failing and… Never mind! I checked on the Amazon situation regarding the deliveries.

Looking good. The Mini-cheddars ‘Pickle flavoured’, should be here today. I must resist tearing the box open to get at a bag. Hehe! The wristband alerts for Warfarin will be arriving, of course, how long it will be until these ones split and break is anyone’s guess. They are from a different supplier, and a lot dearer than the others were. So, I hope that means they will last longer.

The ablutions were started much later than planned, with all the cockups and tribulations this morning. I have to make Josie’s nosh afterwards.

Back later.

I’m back.

Ablutionisationing Report: Only the one cut shaving. A new bruise, but feeling more content.  The bruise I got when picking up the dropped bar of carbolic soap in the shower. (I can’t see myself getting any more carbolic ever again. It was hard enough to find even before the lock-down! – Sob!) I banged my knee on the grab rail while showering, I’ve a little swelling to remind me of it. I did drop the showerhead again, but grabbed at it, caught it in time, (Godsmacking innit!) and pulled it to my body, hitting a certain delicate, but redundant nowadays, part on my anatomy. (Ouch!)

After drying off and cleaning the shower and sink. I had a look at the ever-morphing pins. Bit for meat on them I thought, then realised it was Fluid Retention Fred’s doing! Another oddity, (my life is not short of them!), was the new bruising the knee, was showing up as white? Well, I’ll be blown! Clopidogrel Clive was attempting a comeback as well. Belinda Blotches was visiting the legs as well. And, the usual for me paleness and anaemic, whiteness, had gone a, well, I don’t really know what colour it is, deep cream or a gungy spotted pale brown?

As I was getting dressed, Colin Cramps had a go at my hands and fingers again, causing me to drop the body spray can. I couldn’t help but the funny side. My dropping things are usually controlled by Nicodemus, Shaking Shaun Dizzy Dennis and occasionally a perhaps a Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance from the right leg. What if they don’t like this imposter Colin Cramps doing their job? I’m losing it here!

I got the bit of handwashing done, not a lot, as Paul Daniels used to say. The bath towel, and the thin dressing gown. No socks, the damned sock-glide isn’t going have me today! I got the towel done wrung and hung, then did the gown, and hung that in the wet room.

Now, this makes me sound demented and a bit odd, (Fair enough I am!), but can you not see an expression of the sock-glide on the shower chair?

He looks awfully pee’d off to me. My having avoided any conflict or battles with him for two days now (I’ve not worn any socks, Hehehe! That got him!). Is he angry or sad? Perhaps he’s missing the little lumps of my finger-ends his deadly spring clip usually provides for him? Is he annoyed the Nicodemus has not made me drop or fall over it lately? The ailments rarely all come on together, but they may be planning an uprising! I’ve gone again, lost it!

Time to get Josie’s meal prepared. I didn’t take to long to get it ready. The cheesy potatoes, (the highlight of the meal my customers tell me), had to be made with Sainsbury’s substituted for Leicester grated cheese, a mixed bag. I got it served up for the gal.

The mixed grated cheese had Mozarella in it, not the tastiest of cheeses, and when warmed up got very stringy. But, beggars can’t be choosers! Without Jenny’s help, I wouldn’t have had any cheese to use. Stuck like glue to the utensils! I left the cutlery soaking in a bowl of washing up liquid and bleach for a few hours.

Not only did it get me in a mess that needed extra cleaning, but it was tasteless! But for my share, when I get it, I’ve some caramelised red onion chutney to spice it up. Hahaha!

I got carried away in making some small Good Morning photos, and side shots for the blogs, it was soon nearly 16:00hrs.

I went to visit the Porcelain Throne, and midway through the evacuation, the intercom chimed out! It was the Amazon man, with the highlight of the day, the pickle flavoured min cheddars, the wristlet alert bands and some pots to use to separate the seasoning.

I left the box until I had done the chipping off of the Mozzarella cheese from the cutlery in the bowl.

It came off okay, with a little, no, much effort and elbow grease!

All three items were there. I got them sorted, and could almost taste the Branston Pickle flavoured mini cheddars as I did so. The pots had what I wanted in then the screw on lids, as opposed to the snap-on ones I have at the moment. There are times when Nicodemus’s nerve-end die on me, and it’s difficult to sense if the lids are on or not.

Not haven eaten due to my getting too involved with the CorelDrawing, I realised it would be a while before I can get my nosh. So I took a bag of the mini-cheddars from the box; and what a pleasant, serendipitous, wonderful discovery! They were 50gr packets, not as I  had expected, 30gr. I made a brew and gobbled a full pack, by gum, they were great!

Well, the fatigue dawned, but did I stop CorelDrawing, did I ‘eck as. I was on a roll, almost as if I was on a drug-trip! I had to concede defeat to the fatigue in the end. I was struggling to get the computer to close down. my heart sank. If I lose this outlet to life, it will be life-changing.

Then, as it does to me so often, I realised I had totally forgotten about the cheesy potatoes in the oven! Spittling-Splurging-Sparrowhawks! I scuttered to the kitchen to check, almost tripping over the walking stick in my haste.

Ah! All was well, which momentarily confused me. How could the mash be in the oven for over three hours and not get burnt? My question was soon solved when I realised I had not turned the oven on! Well, I couldn’t remember turning it off from doing Josie’s potatoes?

I’m getting worried about my mind and memory of late.

My much-missed mug. RIP!

Anyroad, I put two of the Iceland beefburgers in with the cheesy spuds and turned on the oven. Draycup! I made a brew of tea, and for some unknown reason. I began to mourn the loss of my old pottery mug. It was genuine remorse, but why?

I reckon the mind is on its last legs. Tsk!

I went to turn off the computer and was not sure if I’d hit sleep or turn-off. I fancied I’d put it on sleep, but then I’d turned off the power. I turned the juice back on, and completely forgot to press the mini hidden button, and panicked a bit! Thinking my pressing sleep, and turning off the plugs, had damaged something. It really is scary, when you forget how to turn your computer on! I was in two minds whether to mention this at all. But, in keeping with my reveal-all policy on blogging, I did. Well, you know that cause it’s written here. I’m going off-line-logically a bit here!

I spent so long sorting out what I had and hadn’t done with the computer, and got it going alright again (Sigh of relief the size of Asia!), by the time I got back to the pots and burgers, they really had got burnt! But not too much for me, luckily I like them well-done, like this!

I got the plate filled. Took the med’s with me, along with the fodder, Clementine drink, and the light lemon yoghourt.

The potatoes were really not good at all, the crispy bits, when applying the caramelised red onion chutney, were okay. The cheese, well, I might as well have not used it, so weak and tasteless it was. The tomatoes were not too bad. Surprisingly, the burgers were great! I wish I’d got more in now, Humph! 

This made me try again to get a delivery slot from Iceland. Nope! The nosh was granted a rating of 5/10, passable, just, thanks to the beefburgers; that I cannot get any more of, the lemon yoghourt and clementine drink. The medications tasted the same as usual, 10/10, Hahaha! 

I got the pots washed, and tried purposelessly and unsuccessfully to get some sleep. Morpheous wasn’t having it again! Even the little two-minute nod-offs were absent without leave! Grobbledigrooks! 

After hours of trying to nod-off, I perused the TV channel guide, and to my pleasure, unpremeditated serendipitously found that a Red Dwarf extended film was just about to start on the box. Aha, great, one of my favourites and I hadn’t seen this one before! Oh, joy abounded! 

I rang Sister Jane to advise her of Red Dwarf about to start on the gogglebox, thinking that xyrophobia-suffering, left a fortune in a will of someone he didn’t know, pools and lottery winner, who retired at 50 years of age and has women chasing him, tall, good looking, well-built, Brother-in-Law Lucky-Pete liked Red Dwarf.  It was not an easy conversation, Jane was on the Bollinger Brut Special Cuvée again. Hehehe! I’ll get in trouble for telling of that!

About an hour into the 2-hour Red Dwarf programme, and enjoying it immensely, that damned Morpheous came on, and I missed the rest of the film! Waking up with a start, as the closing credits were scrolling down the screen!

Then, could I get back to sleep again? Nope! I lay there for another couple of hours, Thought-Storms brewing, self-hatred, fears, worries, they all pestered me, before getting to sleep. For three hours!

Life is not a bed of roses!

Inchcockski – Saturday 11th April 2020: If it can go wrong, it will!

Saturday 11th April 2020

Sudanese: Sabtu Kaping 11 April 2020

05:20hrs: I finally stirred, after luxuriating in about three hours sleep. Which was tormented by dreams of a disturbing nature, of which I have only impressions, no real detail, other than it took place underground, and ghouls were in there somewhere?

Despite the scarceness of kip, I almost bounded out of the £300, second-hand rickety recliner, within minutes of my waking up? Clutched at the walking stick, and made my way dodderingly to the kitchen…

I got to the kitchen, took the medicines, applied the medications; Saccades-Sandra drops, olive-oiled the ear-holes, tincture of the tooth, creamed the Harold’s haemorrhoid’s, Phorpain gelled Arthur Itis’s knees, and made a brew, all without the need of a wee-wee or the Porcelain Throne! This was not natural?

Booted-up the computer to update the Friday post. And had to create a template for the day first! But it was a marathon job, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, Dizzy Dennis and Shaking Shaun all giving me a bashing. The worst, being Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitter nerve ends, continually working and stopping, making typing almost impossible. I was continually making errors without realising it and having to make corrections. I have no doubt there will be many that I missed, which is disappointing and frustrating.

The knowledge that I will eventually have to stop doing these blogs, as it gets harder and takes me longer every day, and knowing they can do nothing to help, sometimes get me down. But while I can, I will. I love doing them. Trying to add a bit of humour to them, must help me, in a fashion. Hey-ho, moan, groan and whine, over!

Having, many hours later got the job nearly finished, and my xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete called. Obviously, the lad hadn’t received the link yet, and he likes to read it early in the day with Jane. We had a natter, and I noticed that Stuttering Stephanie was with me again, getting more frequent lately. Anyway, he and Jane sounded in fair spirits.

They have had their big monthly parcel of food from Nottingham County Council delivered. Marvellous I thought. I quoted something along the lines of, A pool’s and big lottery winner, with a car and an electric bicycle, who live in a mansion, have been left a fortune in someone’s will, get their food hamper delivered. I’m told that because my aorta-valve replacement is not disabling enough, I don’t qualify. The peripheral neuropathy and dying nerve ends, the Stroke, using a stick or trolley-guide to walk, Dizzy Dennis, falling down or into something almost every day. Dropping things several times every day, Shaking Shaun and Shoulder-shuddering-Shirley, Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger sticking, Hernia-Henry, being deaf, Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters dying, having Arthur Itis (Rheumatoid arthritis), don’t seem to matter to anyone else but me! It’s a good job I’m used to suffering and pain, innit! Pete did laugh! That cheered up.

I got the link sent off. Went on the WordPress Reader, and got this blog started. It took me 7 hours plus, to get this far. I fear the time is getting close to having to stop, this really gets to me. The very thought of it, brought on my depression, like never before. No point in fighting it. I stopped and went to make a brew and have a look outside, see if any of the dog walkers were out, so I could photograph them. Disappointingly, no one was about. But, I did find some photographs I’d missed off yesterday, of some doggies taking their humans for a walk:

He or she struggled a little...

I all but dropped the Nikon camera, coming back in from the window again! Darned good job I had the wrist-loop around my hand! Phew!

The rest will have to be in shorthand I’m afraid. The ailment was taking over, and everything took so long. Sorry. It’s hours past my normal head-down time already.

Posted off the ailment, and started a template for this blog. As I started to create it, the doorbell chimed out.

It was Amazon, with the Nasal spray and Clementine juice.

I opened the spray box and left the heavier juice one in the hallway.

Back to the computer, and all sort of problems developed! The landline rang and flashed. It was Jenny, bless her. Her Sainsbury’s order had arrived, and Frank was on his way down with the items I’d asked to be added for me.

I hurried to put them away. Jenny had kindly written a list for me. That’ll £26 plus £13 I owe her now. The shop had substituted some bits. Mini cheddars, which I’m not too keen on, and last week they did the same, a double size pack as well. I’ve got the pickle flavoured ones arriving tomorrow via Amazon as well. She’s got some lemon yoghourt though. Tomato juice, washing up liquid, cherry-scented? And a tub of salt. Bless her cotton socks!

I tried to get the computer to take the photographs but ended up having to do it in a long-winded fashion, which cost me even more time.

I rang Jane and Pete to get my mobile number, cause I needed it to get back on the photo site. But I was too late, and it timed-out. So now, I don’t know where the heck I stand with it all.

Rang Jenny back, I was gasping a bit and Stuttering Stephanie was on form! I thanked her and told her I was going to go to the bank on Monday to get some money to pay her what I owe her with. She kindly said it was Bank Holiday on Monday, so I can’t get it then! Tsk! We nattered a bit, and we decided I’d go on Wednesday. She generously said she would write a note for me to give the taxi driver on Wednesday, asking him or her to wait while I go ion the bank, and bring me back afterwards.

Then I did some updating on this blog, but not for long. I need rest and sleep badly now.

I stopped and decided to get something for a meal. The easiest will be bacon in the oven, and a tin of tomatoes, I can use the last of the bread up with it.

Not feeling so good now. I hope to be back in the morning, to finish things off. TTFN.

Sunday Morning: 0545hrs: Updating.

I got the meal, I had a can of tomatoes, added some vinegar and hickory to it. The bacon, I cut of some of the fat and did it in the oven. Got it served with the medications. For once a good tasty one. Flavour rating: 7.5/10.

Got the dish in soaking, and had a go at the computer problem again.

I had more bother with the computer. Had to supply a password that was my mobile number, but I couldn’t find what it was! I rang Sister Jane at the Bratton Towers, and she and Pete eventually found it for me. But by the time I got to put it on it had timed-out! So, no progress there. Tsk!

The TV on, but of no interest, however, the need and desire for sleep were being ignored by my body and mind.

The landline burst forth and flashed. Sister Jane, concerned about the computer locking me out. Thought it might be hackers. I told her about the lack of sleep problem, saying how it doesn’t matter now about being woken up, as I can’t get to sleep in the first place. I think she might have been upset a smidge, and rang off, thinking I was moaning about being woken, which didn’t matter at all in fact.

This irked me, and I range her back, but no answer.

Switched to another programme and there was an interesting documentary on an underground city in France, and how the military had used it over the years. I thought my xyrophobia-suffering, chaetophorous, anti-epilation Brother-in-Law Pete might be interested in it. I rang again and got through this time.

There I was enjoying a great natter and chinwag with Jane, and I thought I heard a beeping noise. This was annoying me, I told Jane, and I went with the mobile in hand to have a look around. I was giving a running commentary as I investigated, but, could not find the source! Then a bleep-bleep, and I lost the connection.

I got back in the rickety recliner, and tried to ring back ‘This number is unavailable’. Huh!

Then I actually fell asleep!

Coronavirus, pavement cyclists, wars and insanity! It’s a funny old world, innit?

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