Well, Jenny, bless her, delivered the lemon bleach and yoghourts she’s ordered for me good and early. Left them near the doorstep. Thus, I had time to rush about, (this may be a slightly excessive description) and get ready for my much longed for, my first trip out on the bus into town, for months! Excitement flooded the brain!
I made a complete hash of getting ready. It’d been so long since I went out, many things confused my poor old stale, addled brain:
- I had to leave the socks off, cause they were too painful to wear!
- Thus, I had agony with the feet and toes. But no matter, I was in my seventh heaven, about to escape into the outside world again!
- Where were the unused for nine weeks flat keys? Found them quickly
- Where was the bus-pass card, unused for nine weeks? This took yonks to find!
- Where was the cash card? This took an aeon to find!
- Time was getting on, so I put on the coat I last went out in. The heavy one!
- Going to be interesting fun this, no hearing aid batteries!
I got the three-wheeled walker-guide, made sure some spare shopping bags were in it. And a few pressies in case I encounter any of the regular kind shop staff. And off I set!
Picture based record of the best day out for months. Well, it the first one!
Down in the elevator.
Met several tenants, and had a chinwag or two, en route to the bus stop.
At the stop, people were mostly being sensible and keeping to the social distancing rules. I had a natter with Margaret, Christine and Steve. The bus arrived, and Christine seemed to be aware of my nervousness getting on the bus. On the short trip down the hill, she made me feel comfortable as we chinwagged.
I followed others who had got off the bus, down to the bus stop for a ride to town. Oh, dear, I was a tad confused getting on, but someone put me right. Each second side-saddle seat had been taped off and not in use. But there were not any available. Now there I was with my trolley, and in a pickle as to what to do. But a gentleman saw me in a ponder, and got up from a side-saddle, and moved to another seat, freeing it for me. Bless him!
We all got off at Victoria Centre, Christine had to remind I needed this stop. Haha! I chatted with her for a while, and she told me of the L9 bus being on a two hour Saturday timetable, and that I needed to get the bus back at 11:05hrs.
I felt so cared about, it was lovely.
I hobbled, (and the feet were giving my terrible gip) along Milton Street, and called into the old Poundstretcher shop. They, like the other shops, had set a new layout, and the in-door had been blocked off. I had a hunt around the grocery shelves, in search of some Pakistani potato cakes. But could not find any. But I still got to the checkout with; A can of Bonners BBQ sauce, Italian lemon cookies (Froletti Al Limone), Largeish bottle of Light Soy Sauce at £1.49. You’ll like this, a small packet of… ready for it; Asolo Dolce, Alla Marmellata di Arance! Which was Strudel with orange jam! Haha! And, All’Arancia Limone cookies. Finally, a face-mask, for a quid! I didn’t find out until I got home and could use the magnifying glass, it was made in Turkey.
I still found it hard to believe how few people were about. Milton Street, apparently the busiest in Nottingham City Centre, had six Nottinghamians, and so many closed stores!
As I crossed over Lower Parliament Street to get to the Poundland store, four cyclists came along the pavement, more or less at the same time. I struggled to get the camera out, by then there were only the two in the above picture left in view.
Into the shop, and they too had changed things around. I got a bit puddled trying to find the disinfectants, and I asked a lady assistant where they were; I followed her non-verbal finger that pointed towards the shop door, thanked her, and went to find them. The maze of aisles was challenging to manoeuvre around, with so many being blocked by the shelf fillers. Not that I blame them, they’ve got a job to do. With hopes high, I approached the fresh food fridge, almost tasting Pork Farms pie as got there. But, no, they didn’t have any. Which is a good thing really, I shouldn’t eat them anyway. But I did spot the tasty Frankfurters were in stock. I can’t work out why, but this brand, despite having less meat in than others are so filling and flavoursome. That’s tonight’s nosh sorted! Potatoes, peas, mushrooms, tomatoes and franks!
I did overspend, though!
I got to the checkout. As I was struggling anyway to put the basket on the counter, guess what? Without any warning or twitches, Peripheral Pete’s right-legs did a Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance routine, and to make things more embarrassing, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley had a bash at me! The basket tipped off the counter, and I made things worse by grabbing at it and spilling everything out onto the floor! Grobognangles! A lady arrived to help me, I moved out of her way, and she calmly gathered the goods and put them back in the basket and onto the counter for me. I mumbled my apologies, and the Tut-tutting from those behind me grew louder! To make those waiting angrier and even more likely to belt me one in the kisser, I’d bought a bottle of disinfectant, that was two for the same price as one, a quid. The kind lady pointed this out to me and called for someone to get another bottle for me. This was not making me very popular at all!
Yet the understanding of the serving lady was so much appreciated. The leg was still twitching a bit, and I feared it might ‘Dance-off’ again. So I paid the lady, thanked her, and hobbled to the door. I swear a heard a ginormous ‘Sigh’ from behind me!
Getting out back on the pavement, I took a shot of Parliament Street traffic; or lack of it. It was a sad sight. Made worse by so many obstreperous, leary, ignorant, dangerous, uncaring pavement cyclists. Notably, the scruffy-haired, tattooed neck and ear tab young delinquent who almost ran into me while I was taking the photo above, from behind! While I had the camera out, I turned to my left and took a shot of the end of Milton Street, then got in one of the closed-down shops’ doorways and sorted the weight distribution of the things in the trolley-basket and two carrier bags.
I’d bought a bottle of Aquafresh mouthwash, the two disinfectants for a pound, Frankfurters, Cheeslets, cashew nuts, a concentrated Lemon & mint, and Lemon disinfectants, and a (Not joking) Lemon & Sherbert freshener!
As I was passing the end of Milton Street, I was nearly assaulted by two pavement cyclists, from either direction! I caught a snap of the younger of the two illegal, contemptible, parasitic, moronic, spit-worthy urchins in this picture above.
I got along to, and down King Street. The whole thing seemed so, almost hallucinatory. All I could see down the hill were two people! Weird!
As I got towards the bottom of the road on my way to the Slab Square, it got crowded, (Hahaha!) The spunk-bubbling, repugnant, detestable, unlikeable, arrogant pavement cyclist put on a display here. Unfortunately, I only caught this one parasite coming up the hill with my trusty Canon lens.
A little further down, and sod me, another sycophantic, tellurian organism of a pavement cyclist appeared. But I contained my hatred, fear and desire to knock the froward, mordant, noxiously pestiferously whippersnapper-bugger off of his bike… mainly cause he’d only belt the hell out if afterwards. Hahaha!
A handful of Nottinghamians in the Slab-Square, the quietness was eerie, and Nottingham’s Fothergill Watson designed building opposite, showing a sharp contrast the newer erections in the background, and was a touch saddening.
I turned to make my way to the bus stop, and a smidge of concern suddenly came over me. “What happens if the Coronvirus makes a comeback? And how come, it hasn’t seen off many pavement cyclists? Makes you think, dunnit?
Ah, another PC (Pavement Cyclist) made an appearance, as I turned up Queen Street towards the L9 bus stop.
The mind wandered as I limped slowly up the hill, Brian Clough’s statue on my right, The old Prudential Buildings, more pavement cyclists, not a sign of a policeman all day, how come I’ve gone for nearly two days without needing the porcelain throne?
The sheer magnificence of Fothergill Watson’s architectural designs. How come, I’ve gone so long without wanting a wee-wee? I was really into the mind-straying and changing routine, as I got to the top of the hill. But it came to a sudden end.
When I caught my foot on the wheel of the trolley as I secured it, in the middle of the pelican crossing refuge, to take this photo of Parliament Street, in all its bleakness. The burning, throbbing pains from the toes and souls of the feet were excruciating, and that’s no exaggeration. It ended my day out, in a despicably nauseating style. But it wasn’t quite finished yet.
I waited for and caught the L9 bus. Having to sit with the trolley in front of me was a bit awkward and difficult. The brakes on the three-wheeler would not apply? Which meant I had to sit leant forward, holding onto the trolley, to stop it rolling away for the whole journey. This stopped my blood flow, and Shuddering Shirley and Colin Cramps accompanied me. However, once Christine got on the bus, I concentrated on her amusing and witty tales. We had a laugh or a few en route home. She kindly didn’t run off, but walked at my steady pace and chatted as we walked the length of Chestnut Walk back to our beloved Woodthorpe Court. We waited for the lift, and Chrissie went up as we said our farewells to each other. It felt like I’d been out for hours and hours, and the fatigue was dawning. But, when I took a snap of the electronic notice board, as I did when I departed, showed me that I’d only been out from 09:20 to 11:41hrs.
I got the lift, and with there still being no call for a wee-wee or the Porcelain Throne, I put the purchasers away and made a super-duper mug of Thompsons Punjana.
3.7 hours out in the fresh air,
I have to say the weather was fair,
Pavements Cyclist apart,
And the toe-stubbing on the cart,
It made the day for this worrywart,
I’m so glad to be back in my lair!