TFZer Sweet Shirley ♥

Friday 12th June 2020

Sethoso: Labohlano la 12 Tšitoe 2020

04:25hrs: Lethargically, I came back to life, unsure of if I had actually woken, or was still in the middle of the dreams I’d been blessed with overnight! A medley of ever-changing subjects, from the embarrassing, fearful, and belligerent, to plain confusing, but longed for, impossible, (nectareous!) romantic happenstances.  I’ll not go into details, cause I’m short of tablets, and don’t want to get myself all excited) Hehehe!

I’m putting the changes in the view photograhicalisations, that I took over four hours, on the right-hand side here.

To show the amazing difference in colouring, light, etcetera, that took place.

There was a light mist with the morning views that turned into a fog, but only for an hour or so, then it reverted to just being a little misty.

Then the fog started coming back! All very interesting. (Or not?)

The last one was taken through the balcony window, as the fog paled back into a slight mist. Sorry about the diversion.

Now, back to the tale of the short, plump, wobbly-bellied, bald, deaf, Saccades Sandra affected, 5′ 2″, well-overweight, hobbling, Nottinghamian pensioner’s rising from his recliner. His £300, c1968, second-hand, obnoxiously-beige-coloured, none-working (my Xyrophobia suffering, over amour propre Brother-in-law Pete, when he was searching the flat while I was in the hospital after the Stroke, and taking my valuables, and he took a rest. Fatal! He could not resist the electrics and mechanics of the chair and fiddled with them. Now the machine no longer works!), ramshackle, uncomfortable in the extreme, rusty, rickety, none-working recliner.

When I had manoeuvered my ever-changing legs to the ground, the thin night-quilt went with the tootsies to the carpet – entwined painfully in the overgrown toenails! Getting the toes freed was also a most uncomfortable experience! Cragknackling & Teeth-grinding!

As I was getting up and grabbing the stick to catch my balance, it became evident that Toothache Thomas was going to give me bother. I decided to risk taking an extra painkiller with the morning brew, for the pain seemed to be getting worse as time passed. Arglebonkangony!

I took the first of the photos at the top right, got the kettle on the boil, and did the sphygmomanometerisationing. Made the tea, and took the second picture. The SYS reading had come down, but it was still a tad high, methinks. The pulse at 76 should be okay, The thermometer gave a numbered readout for a change, 86°. Fahrenheit, I hope. Out of interest, I looked at the temperatures on Google.  I got this explanation to my question.

By the time it had sunk in, I’d forgotten what I’d read! Hahaha! Looks good to me.

Off to the wet room, to satiate the demands for the Porcelain Throne. It was all over within a minute or so! No pushing from me at all. Things moved under the control of the innards, and the evacuated product was massive, but not messy. The rear end bled a lot afterwards. I’m not sure if this was due to Harold’s Haemorrhoids or something else. The piles, I hope! Cleaned and medicated. I’m so glad, almost thrilled, to tell you that Little Inchies fungal lesion, had not, and wasn’t bleeding at all. So no hurtful medicating needed here, Yippie!

As I left the wet room, the flat seemed so cold suddenly? I adorned the thick dressing gown. Brr!

The Assam mug of tea had gone cold, so I invested in a brew of Glengettie Gold. Off to the computer, and made a start on graphicalising input. Added to the scribble on the notepad to remind me later of things, and eventually made a  start on the updating of the Thursday blog.

Many hours later, I’d got it done and sent off. Pinterested a few shots. Then I went on the WordPress Reader. Onward, to Facebooking, TFZer then to Winwood Heights.

I made a start on with this post, then went on CorelDraw to make up some more TFZer graphics. I read that a tenant ordered some from Amazon. So I ordered some. I’d hate to be in the pickle of not being able to get on a bus! Should be arriving tomorrow.

The day was dark, the sun didn’t put in a smile all day. The mist lingered on and on.

11:25hrs: Then I got seriously involved in graphicalisationing on CorelDraw. Back later.

15:55hrs: The intercom chimed out.

It was a young lady bringing me my prescriptions that the chemist told Obergruppenfhurer, Gymnast and Warden Deana yesterday, would be arriving on Saturday! No complaints, though! I’m just glad that I didn’t go out, expecting them the next day.

At least Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, just up from the Lidl store, have kept to their habit of making me confused, every month. This time in reverse, and delivering them early for once, thanking them, kindly.

I thanked the young lady and gave her a can of cola with Jack Daniels in, to show my appreciation.

I put the bag on the kitchen counter and carried on trying to sort out the mess I’d gotten myself in with the graphicalising. I was trying to save some space on the hard-drive, by transferring some of the earlier graphics I’d done, to the drop-box. Well, I got deeper and deeper into a state of utter frustration and confusion.  All caused by Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, making me hit wrong buttons, or hold onto them too long, or not pressing, but thought I had!

Suddenly it was 19:00hrs! Oh, dearie me! I’m tired and weary. The head is spinning, and I have to give up. Too mentally-exhausted, to carry on. I did get so involved in the task as well.

I’ll make some Dagwood filled rolls, I dare not risk any cooking, how I feel now. Beef and tomato methinks. I may have to fight off, falling asleep to eat them. I’ll get them made up now. I’m an old furshlugginer, who should have my name mentioned in despatches!

Well, that was farcical again! No bread, other than frozen! Some, thick bellied and thicker brained old pensioner forgot to take the loaf out of the freezer, didn’t he! This failure of memory means I shall have bake to some cobs in the oven after all! It’s quicker than defrosting without a microwave. Grumph!

I shall have to wait for the oven to get hot enough, of course.  Bungle-Grumplewuncks! What happened to the hours of the day? Still, If I can save internal memory on the computer, it will be worth the anguish.

What next? Here’s what: I burnt my left middle finger, as I put the rolls in the cooker for regulated ten-minutes. Burnt my fingers as I got the rolls out, and again when I tried too soon to slice and butter them.

I ran the water over the worst of the scolds. At least there was nothing on the plate to go cold while I did this. I was getting wearer all the time, but the thought of eating kept me going. Hahaha!

Eventually, after making many crumbs spread about, and cutting my little finger on the slicer-knife, I got the plate served up.

As I took the photo of the served-up meal, I spotted something in the background, that made me feel even more incompetent than I actually am. Laying, where I now remember leaving the Warburtons on top of the crock-pots. The packet of Soft Brown Bread Thins. I’d left them there this morning, so I would not forget to them! Bungleworthiness!

I just left the pots in the bowl soaking, all I was up to was sleeping. I got down in the c1968 recliner, put the TV on, and found a documentary on which interested me, about the Australian murder, years ago. I’ve not watched the telly so late for donkey’s years, I was shattered and all uptight, and decided to watch this long two-hour long programme.

I actually stayed awake for the first hour (well, there was a few short nod-offs). Then the big advertisements came on! I still don’t know how things ended, cause I drifted into sleep mode!

For five hours, uninterrupted kip! That was pulchritudinously, welcome!