Wednesday 20th May 2020

Afrikaans: Woensdag 20 Mei 2020

01:00hrs: I stirred from my short, disturbed slumber, finding myself in a perky mood. Unnatural, this was, for elegiac Inchcock.

I slowly worked through my body, assessing where I could, the state of the ailments.

The head: Saccades Sandra was not overly affecting the eye-sight. No headaches. Fair enough!

Neck & Shoulders: The persistent of late, Shuddering Shoulder  Shirley was twitching a bit, I’m not sure if she was dying down from a nocturnal attack, or building up ready for a morning assault. A little dubious about this; hopefully, she’ll not get any worserer. The stiffness from last night in the neck was a lot easier. Silver-Lining?

Arms-Hands-Fingers: The left-hand-side was normal. The right with its Peripheral Neuropathy and stroke side-effects were a twitching elbow. Nicodemus’s dying Neurotransmitters. Had left me with some lack of touch-sensation (I must take care when I go for a wee-wee or make the tea, Hehehe!) Anne Gyna, was giving out some mild spasmodic prodding across the chest, but nowhere near as acute as yesterday. Duodenal Donald was still asleep I think, best not to disturb him. Silver-Lining?

The innards were mildly rumbling. Something brewing in there? Reflux Roger was at full belt from when I first woke-up. I reckon the valve is stuck open at the moment, cause he’s causing a bit of pain, which is unusual. I’m confident once I get a cuppa and bite to eat, things should improve, very acidy taste in the mouth and throat this morning.

Good news, no bleeding from Little Inchies fungal lesion. And no wet and warm feelings from the PPs, regarding Harold’s Haemorrhoids! Fantwonderfulski! Silver-Lining?

Down to the legs, and I stood up to bear the weight of my short-plump-flobby, overly-sized drooping stomached body, on the legs and feet. Argh! The souls of the plates were a lot less painful than they were yesterday morning! Goodski! Silver-Lining?

But, Rheumatoid Arthur Itis’s knees were the opposite, grindingly, searingly hurtful. Can’t win ’em all! The old ankle ulcer scar seems to have gotten biggerer overnight? The overgrown toenails were stinging a bit as soon as the weight got onto the legs.

I think the body overall, had a smidge more colour to it, Silver-Lining? Then again, I am colour blind.

Thinking it was a bit nipper this Mittenwoch morning, I put on the thin dressing gown. Then realised I’d left the balcony door wide open all night, so I closed it. Seeing the view outside as I did it, I got the camera, took a shot of the pins (above), before, I took a couple of photos from the balcony.

I was so pleased to be able to get back into the balcony to take some photographs. (Thanks, to Obergruppenführer, Prima Ballerina, and Warden Deana) In my excitement, I forgot about the damned metal-spring retaining clip, that needs to be pushed to bend, and pulled to open at the same time. Of course, Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters failed at just the most inopportune moment, and I now have a tiny, but painful blood-blister on my thumb! Arglebonkangony!  

I got carefully, to the wet room for a wee-wee, no demands for the Porcelain Throne yet. Had the EBSC (Energetic-But-Short-Painless-Cloudy) wee-wee, and got the kettle on. Took the medications, olive-oiled the earholes. Rubbed some Phorpain Gel on the knees, and took an extra Codeine 30g, and to the computer.

Botted her up, and the first job, got a template done. Not only did I have to contend with the attentions of nasty-nerd, Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters failing, and Shuddering Shirley, the shoulder shaker, which was so frustrating, but also the Liberty-Global Virgin Media crappy service! (Who pay their I lost hours, the internet kept going down and slow repeatedly. With the ailments causing me to lose more time, in correcting and checking everything so often! Blanglebotherations!

Mike Fries is Chief Executive Officer and Vice Chairman of Liberty Global. This article on his salary, I found on Forbes site.

Telegraph: The boss of Virgin Media owner Liberty Global faces shareholder protests this week after receiving payment and bonuses of more than a quarter of a billion dollars since acquiring the cable operator six years ago. Mike Fries’ total remuneration last year topped $33m (£26m), nearly double the prior year, despite a 40pc slump in the company’s share price. I bet he got more than my 98p interest on his personal account last year!

And still, despite the fortune he gets, (note I didn’t say earns!) he can’t supply a block of Warden-aided apartments in Sherwood Nottingham, with even an imitation of a reliable internet service! I’m not surprised! Just look at him. He’s the appearance of a Mafiosa boss, to me? Mind you, he’s good looking. Haha!

Note, the threatening, ‘It’s your fault’ pointing finger? The grand service I had from the then, Richard Branson owned and ran Internet service, is much lamented. It has been crippled and destroyed since Fries mob took it over. But I’m not jealous, oh, no! The saddest part is the service is still better than the one I had when I used BT (British Telecom) years earlier.

Sorry about that, I got carried away a bit there.

Things settled on the internet problems, just the odd going off-line for few seconds every now and then. Humph! I got the update finished at last. Went on the WordPress Reader section. And I made a start on this post.

Got as far as to here, and went on the TFZer Facebooking. Spent an hour and a half on it.

Stopped, put Computer Colette in sleep mode, and went off to get the Ablutions done. Still no signs of needing the Porcelain Throne?

A genuinely successful session, with few Whoopsiedangleplops and Accifauxpas! Yee-Ha! A handful of dropsies, no toe-stubbings and only one nick shaving, and I came across the missing tube of toothpaste (It had somehow dropped of the toilet cistern, under the WC), but I did lose, or couldn’t find the after-shave anywhere? Well pleasing!

I made up the box of recyclable materials, then three bags for the chute.

I used the three wheel-walker guide to carry them to the waste chute room. Dropped them down, and returned to the lift, and down to the caretakers’ room.

I had a peep out of the small window in the link passage, that shows part of Woodthorpe Grange Park, at the rear of the building.

Then I dropped the box in the caretaker’s passageway. Had a bit of a struggle to get the door opened on my way back to the lift foyer.

I had a perusal of the notice boards but did not see anything new on them to be of any interest to me.

 Then to the end near the main foyer door. The place was looking a bit tatty, but that’s because of the Coronavirus stopping the upgrading work.

Dizzy Dennis paid me a visit at this point. A bad one, but short-lived, thankfully. Conveniently placed, the wall was utilised for a second or two. Hehehe!

I remained where I was to give things time to get back to normal. Well, I say normal? Hahaha! I turned back and took a shot of the even gloomier looking lift lobby. I entered the main lobby area, knocking my arm against the door frame, uttered a couple of curse-words, and stood still for a few minutes, as I got the feeling that Dizzy Dennis was about to attack again. But just to make me feel a fool, he didn’t.

I spotted that the bottle of hand-sanitiser left on wall ledge had been stolen again! I find this disgusting. Whoever is doing it, resident or visitor. Contemptible! But I shouldn’t be surprised, even the bottles supplied at the hospitals are getting nicked! Sick! It destroys your faith in humankind!

I thought for a moment that I saw a mouse in the bare brickwork in the corner of the lobby. But I must have been wrong, on looking closer there was nowhere for a mouse to go.

While I was bent looking, a dirty great-big meat fly flew out. It didn’t half make me jump! Even I had to laugh!

I poddled outside, and blow me down with a feather duster, there were the caretakers near the bin. From a distance, I bored them both rigid with as I nattered and chinwagged on. It must have been tedious enough for the poor devils, but Stuttering Stephanie must have made it worse! I can’t help it, I do love a bit of persiflage, no stopping me after going so long without a good schmooze. Haha!

I hobble away, feeling guilty, and spotted some new colourful growth amongst the trees at the end of Chestnut Walk.

Life seemed to be returning, but with ten weeks left yet, of my hospital-enforce isolationing, the feeling was only brief. I was really feeling quite low as I returned into the flat’s foyer. Crigglebogsnot!

Back up to the apartment. I fought my way in with the trolley-walker, taking a bit of skin off of my right knuckle, as I farted about getting the trolley in through the door. Twit!

I got the oven heating, and put a large jar of black bean sauce, with some Hickory and Balsamic vinegar added to it. I aim to get the bacon cooked and into the saucepan of beans to season the bacon with. I’m going to have some sourdough muffins with them.

I got updating this blog as far as here.

I took the cooked bacon out of the oven, added it to the pan of black bean sauce on alow light now.

Then went on the Morrison site, to add Balsamic vinegar to the order that’s in. Well, that went well, they’ve only got some at £20 a bottle! I left it.

I went on Amazon to see what their prices were for balsamic vinegar and Hickory. Bejesus! Look at the prices for Balsamic!

I investigated the Hickory costs. Always high, but I can’t find any for sale anywhere else.

This is the cheapest they had on sale. I’ve not tried it before. I just hope it’s tasty enough. Oh, dearie me, I feel I might have made a mistake here! At least it’ll be delivered tomorrow, I hope not too late. This Colgin brand works out a little less pro-rata than the other ones. I hope it proves to be as tasty and well-flavoured.

I’ll get the meal sorted out, now.

An odd-looking bowl of fodder, I must admit. Just bacon and black bean sauce, with only hickory, added. Sourdough muffins, a lemon mousse, a can of San Benedetto Clementine drink and mug of orange juice. A low-cal bar of chocolate nougat.

Strange as it looked, it tasted great! I made muffin sarnies of bacon and beans, regularly dunking. Devouring all of it with coenaculous relish, and degust. Mmm! A flavour rating, of a deserved 8.9/10! Took the evening medications.

I got the pots washed, and got down really early in the £300, c1968, second-hand, rickety, not-working, past-its best recliner, legs up on the swivel chair, watched some TV in between two-minute noddings-off. Nibbled some of the Branston-pickle flavoured Mini-Cheddars. I was soon in the land of nod properly.

Dreaming of certain activities, I used to be young enough and fit enough, and capable to partake in (Carole). It truly felt like it was all really taking place, happening. I was young and most contented, in rhapsody… I was most chagrined to find out it was only a phantasm!

Both of the door chimes rang out the Dusty Springfield tune of, ♫ I only want to be with you ♫. Disappointed in finding out that the dream was not real, I bumble my way up, out of the recliner, fell back down in the chair again, landing on my haemorrhoids and feeling them hurt and bleed. Collected myself and balance, and tried again, grabbed the stick, got the jammie-bottoms on, and limped to the door, feeling the blood trickling down my the inside of my legs. (There’s no doubt about it, old age is daily, more interesting, busy and dangerous than earlier life ever was, Hehehe)

It took an awfully long time for me to get to the door. On the floor outside the door, was a carrier bag. Some kind soul had kindly gifted me three cups (the three are on the right in this photo, the first one being my current favourite mug). Bless them, I wonder who it was? Jenny? Josie? Deana? I put the cups in the bowl after taking this snap of them.

In the morning, I’ll check to see if any emails had come in telling me whoever had delivered them. Whoever it was, Thank You Kindly! ♥

To the wet room to clean and medicate Little Inchies fungal lesion. Back down in the rust recliner. But no chance of any sleep. After trying for ages to encourage Sweet Morpheous to visit, I got the TV on and found there was a film on, so tuned to that channel to watch it. Even when the adverts came on, there were no nod-offs. Humph!

It was gone the witching hour before sleep came. I recall seeing another film coming on at 01:00hrs, and deciding to try and watch that. I nodded-off within minutes of it starting. This being about 25hrs after first waking up. Zzzz!