01:45hrs: I came back to imitation life, and my mind filled with the memories of last night’s unfortunate, to say the least, Whoopsiedangleplop in the kitchen, when the bar on top of the cabinets came down, making a terrible mess, that I basically left unsorted, and needs tending to today.
This prompted my making plans on the duties that lay ahead for me. The Iceland delivery is coming, along with my beloved Hristina, my phlebotomy nurse in the same time-period; twixt 09:00 > 11:00hrs. I need to at least get yesterdays blog finished and posted first. Then make a start on this one. Do my ablutions. Get the mess in the kitchen sorted out, and the kitchen floor mopped up.
So, I got out of the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner; niftily I might add, and off to the EOGPB (Emergency-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket) for an EBSC (Energetic-But-Short-Painless-Cloudy) wee-wee.
Then to the kitchen to get the kettle on and do the medicationalising as needed. The pins looked in rude health, although still looking a little aenemic. The leg ulcer had almost disappeared, but there was some itching coming from it.
The sphygmomanometer revealed that the Sys had gone up again. Could be the excitement of seeing my Vampire Nurse again? But most likely at the thought of all the cleaning and sorting of the kitchen collapse is likely. Grobognangles!
I got on with the updating of the Monday blog. Pressed on persistently and eventually got it all done and posted off. (This took me around two hours to do!) During which, a stomach ache came on? It might have been Duodenal Donald getting ready to kick-off, but I’m not sure. Finally finished it and posted it off. Emailed the link, Pinterested some piccies. Then onto Facebooking.
Time to get the ablutions sorted, then the kitchen to sort out. Oh, also the handwashing to be tackled. Oh, dearie me!
Well, it’s a long time since I’ve actually walked into the door frame! Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was not pleased, at all! At least it was the right blade, and with Nicodemus’sNeuroitransmitters on strike at the time, there was not much pain.
But, Shirley seemed to kick-off the instant I collided with the door, which meant I dropped and broke one of the Jenny-donated mugs which I as taking to wash! Cragknackles! Then, bending down to pick up the pieces, Back-Pain-Brenda joined in as well, she was nasty with it! But, a Silver-Lining-Search, told me I had been doing extremely well ailment wise over the last 24hrs, so I should only expect things like this to happen. Fair enough! Gragnattles! Also, it was handily timed, so I could apply some Phorpain Gel after the ablutioning! Again, Fair enough!
Just as I was about to start cleaning the teeth, and the need for the Porcelain Throne put in an appearance. Good timing again, there I was a limp-and-a-half away from the Throne at the time! And apart from being a little messy and Khari in colour, the ensuing evacuation was almost perfect. Yes, I know, a welcome shock it was! And no bleeding! Smug-Mode-Assumed!
Washed the dandies, and then searched for some teeth to clean. (Haha! Not many left now! A bit of bleeding where I got a tad over-zealous on the back lower teeth. Ah, the shaving next! Fully aware of the likelihood of Shuddering-Shoulder Shirley causing a slash or to, instead of using both hands and two razors as usually would, I tried shaving with just the left hand. But this seemed to set Anne Gyna off? How? Why? So, I reverted, carefully to my usual method.
There were a few nicks, but nothing extreme at all. And they did not bleed much either. I reckon the INR Warfarin level must be well low. With waiting for three weeks for a blood test, it’ll be interesting to see the results of today’s test.
A stand-up all over wash (Too early to use the shower and disturb my unseen for months neighbours) The pins (legs) were looking better than they have for ages. However, the legs did look exsanguinated in the extreme, which was a smidge worrying!
Then I medicated the bodily areas in need of the same. Haemorrhoid Harold’s crevice was Germaloid creamed. Arthur Itis’s knees were Phorpain gelled. Little Inchies fungal lesion, well, as usual, I gritted my few teeth and rubbed in some Corticosteroid cream Argh! Olive-oiled the ear-holes. Applied some tincture to a couple of bothersome teeth. No Saccades Sandra spray left. I’ll see if I can get in touch with the chemist tomorrow, then see if Deana can help with arranging to have it collected for me, along with the prescriptions.
I rang Jenny to tell her that when the milk arrives, I’ll ring her, and bring it down to her. But bless her, she having none of that, and insisted she would come up to collect and pay for them. She’s not a lady to argue with! I wish she’d adopt me, though!
Then I hobbled to the waste chute with two small bags. I was walking, well, stumbling decently enough, but the feet and toes were rather painful.
Back to the flat, and got the handwashing sorted out. I got the zip-up jumper above the heated cloths air ion the hallway to catch the rising heat. (Cunning, eh? Hehe!) I’ve now one drying, another cleaned, and the one I’m wearing and dirtying. Hahaha!
Then, I washed through the yarmulke, and craftily put it on a bend in the airer, and kept turning it every now and then, to help it dry quicker. (I’m not daft yer know! Alright, fair enough, I am!)
I got the towel drying on the flat airer in the front junk-room.
Somehow or other, I attained some zeal, resolution, and pertinacity, and set about, limpingly, I admit, to get the kitchen floor cleaned!
Worra struggle and pain it was too! Cleaning of the floor, I knocked stuff over, dropped and lost things, cut my finger, banged my head on the cupboard door, broke the mop, banged my knee on the step ladders, and generally had a terrible time of it. Tsk!
But still, my determination prevailed. And finally, at last, I got the job completed. With little, if any, self-satisfaction, I’m afraid. I’d made such an absurd and frustrating accident-prone mess of it!
I got the kettle on, and the cobs and cooked beef out to make the beef sarnies, and heard the sound of the yap-yap dog, so I looked outside, and there was a group of dog walkers, all maintaining a proper social distance from each other, while their dogs had the time of their lives.
The lovely little black yap-yapper never stopped wagging its tail. The other two black dogs were playing with the bigger brown woof-woof. I got such enjoyment out of just watching them, it cheered me up a smidge.
I took another photographicalisation from the balcony, of the end of Chestnut Walk. The red cars were back.
Fellow blogger Bill, from the US of A, told me he doesn’t see many red cars over there. Looking at the top overall popular colours in the U.S., for all vehicle categories, White – 19.3%, Silver – 18%, and Black – 12.4%. The UK, it’s White – 414,403, Blue – 373,728 and Red – 226,501. Not earth-shattering, but interesting?
The Intercom flashed and much to my delight, it was Hristina, the gorgeous, sweet-natured phlebotomy nurse come to take my blood. She was soon up in the flat. Having not seen any nurse for three weeks, and it being two-months that I’ve not seen Hristina, I was a tad disappointed in her being too busy for a proper chinwag. But, she still chatted while she took the blood, bless her! I could see she was pent up a smidge. She told me of how long she’d searched for a parking space, and had to park on double yellow lines and left a note on her windscreen saying she would be back in ten minutes. Poor thing. But the lift seeing her gave me, was most appreciated.
I got Computer Cameron back on, and the intercom sounded. It was Iceland’s delivery arriving.
The chap was soon at the door and left the bags in the hall for me.
I got the carriers into the kitchen and sorted the skimmed milk into two bags to spread the weight for Jenny. Left them outside the door and telephoned her to tell her they had arrived. She again she insisted I do not take them to her, and she came up to collect them Bless her little cotton socks!
Ah, I’ve meant to look up the origin of this phrase for ages, and I finally did it! My Dad used to use it. Not to me, I might add! Hahaha!
Here’s Google’s first answer: It comes not from the cotton material, but from George Edward Lynch Cotton. In 1858 as Bishop of Calcutta, Mr Cotton created schools for Eurasian children. As part of his philanthropy, he ordered dozens of pairs of socks to be sent over for the children, blessing them on arrival.
Second one: “Bless their little cotton socks!“: Used to express your affection for somebody because of something they have said or done. Now we know! Hehe!
Jenny came up and pressed the bells, collected the milk and nipped off after she’d put the payment in an envelope through the door. “Bless Her Cotton Socks!” All sorted.
As I was making up three beef rolls to have later, perhaps with a few oven-chips, the mind went off on one of its lucubrations. Not a Thought-Storm as such, because somehow I was ignoring the mind-musing and getting on with making the cobs. That came out wrong, I think? I put the cobs in a cool spot to keep until I have time to eat. Not the fridge, though, cause of Toothache Thomas.
Back on the computer again, and the ‘I only want to be with you’ tune of the door bells chimed up again. Heart-stopper, ILC, and Warden Obergruppenführeress Deana came in, to test the wristlet alarm with the control room. Another busy gal! But while I had the chance, I had to ask her to help with the medications, to find out about the prescriptions for me I only have three days meds left, and if necessary, to arrange collection for me. She said she’d find out and ring me later. I’d be lost without help on the phone, thanks, Deana!
Back on the computer. Not got much done, a bit busy even for me today.
I went on CorelDraw, and guess what? Pee’d off now! I decided as it was late anyway, to turn things off, and got on with the snack. I decided (Yes, sometimes I can make my mind up! Usually, with an erroneous, wrong, incorrect, and much altered and changed outcome. Tsk!
I made three of Big Baps up with butter and roast beef slices. Marmite flavoured cheese, tomatoes, fries and an apple pie. Taste rating result: 4/10, shame! The cobs were dry and bland, the Algerian tomatoes bitter and foul, and the apple pie all sugar, no fruit. But the Marmite cheese and fries were tasty.
Washed the pots, took the medications, and got down in c1968 recliner, to watch a football match from Euro 2016. Can’t remember at the moment who was playing, cause I fell asleep before it started.
Woke up four hours later, thinking it was morning, and got up. I should have known really, cause there were no demands for a wee-wee or the Porcelain Throne!
I decided to stay up anyway. I had a bash at trying to get the ankle-support strap on. No chance!
So I got this blog updated and sent off, then on Facebooking.
22:40hrs: Sunday evening: Woke up with such a jump, bit of a panic, cause I didn’t know what or why I had sprung awake so suddenly!
No other choice than to have a look around to investigate, see if I can find the cause of my unexpected vivification.
I carefully removed my avoirdupois, fat, fleshy, gross, outsize, paunchy, plump, porcine, portly, stout, over-bellied torso from the £300, second-hand, none-working, c1968 recliner, and limped to the balcony for me first gander, no signs of anything out of the ordinary.
The same result in the kitchen. Had got a bit of a wobble on here, from Dizzy Dennis. Stood still for a while, clinging to the wall and walking stick for a while, my balance returned. But only a fleeting visit this time.
In the miniature-hallway, I could see one of the black bags I’d put there earlier sticking out a bit. I went to have a closer look to see if the p[lastic bags of rubbish had fallen and made the mystery noise?
Nope, they all seemed to be where I’d left them in the first place earlier in the night. Dizzy Dennis was trying to revisit me. It’s not right, this!
As if to test my sanity, as I was taking this picture, the spare walking stick I keep at the front door slowly slid away from the wall and fell on the bags?
A peer into the wet room, all seemed to be okay in there, no signs of mishaps.
I turned off the wall-heater I’d left on. Sad, innit? What a Schemiel, I am!
A had a quick look in the junk room. I try not to look in this room as much as possible. It only brings on feelings of blame, guilt, humiliation, embarrassment, self-hatred, and destroys what iota of confidence I have left! Tsk!
I nipped back again into the wet room for a wee-wee and took a snap of the tootsies. The overgrown toes and heels were particularly painful. Also, the limbs looked rather etiolated, anaemic and cadaverous-like. But I knew I’d not snuffed it yet, cause I took this picture and put it in this blog. It might have been an imitation of Big-Foot, but more likely Pale-Foot. Hahaha!
So, whatever it was that disturbed my beloved slumber, will have to remain unknown. Just a part of the mysterious wonders of Woodthorpe Court: The ghosts, hobgoblins, boll-weevils, aliens, gremlins, karakia-cursing entities, hallucinations. Materialisations, poltergeist, lemures, wairuas, kehuas, manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear, and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan, ‘Let’s Piss-off Inchcock’ mission? (Me? Feeling downtrodden? Never! Hahaha!)
I got a bottle of spring water and got the computer on to start this blog off, and there was some knocking coming from somewhere above me. No idea where, but seemed to be coming from a distance? Not that it bothered me much, if at all now that I’d decided to stay awake and get on with the computing tasks.
I got this going and went to get another bottle of spring water. I don’t know what’s a matter with me, but I just do not fancy a mug of tea, that’s a first! But I keep sipping the spring water that I’ve added a drop of orange cordial to. I took these three photographs over about five minutes, and the changing sky was impressive, I thought.
Then I went on Pinterest and added a few photographs. On the WordPress Reader. Next, onto TFZer and Winwood Heights Facebooking. By gum, I enjoyed that!
I got up to make another orange drink. Argh! Glubbledonkeeeeshski! Stubbed my toe on the vacuum! How I managed not to shout out loud, was a miracle! I made a right-good job of it too. Hitting three toes, not one, oh, no, Three of ’em! But it didn’t bother me!
I pondered over whether I could now get back to sleep for a while? But thought not, the mind is too active now. So, I went on CorelDraw to get some graphics made up in advance. I only got one finished!
Botherations, now I suddenly feel tired enough to get some kip, but also hungry? I’ll have a pot noodle, and put the TV on. That should ensure sleep cometh. If I remember rightly, the last time I had a Pot Noodle, it helped things to move in the Porcelain Throne usage department?
I ate the pot of Spare-Rib flavoured noodles and settled to watch a documentary.
I can’t even remember falling to sleep, but I must have almost immediately; waking up four hours later at 07:45hrs and feeling much refreshed. It a few seconds for the grey-cells to activate, but I was soon reinvigorated into activity, full of plans of what to get done! (Unnatural and worrying, I know!)
As I dismounted the £300, decrepit, second-hand c1968 recliner, I noticed that nearly all of the veins, spider, saphenous, popliteal, tibial and femoral, had gone into hiding? Hahaha! What was going on here then? Amazing!
I had a wee-wee in the wet room, and the planning and envisioning started as I got into the kitchen to do the medicationalising. The Sys as down nicely (at last!), the pulse up a tad, but I don’t think its too high. At 36.6°, the temperature was up, also.
Then a determined effort was made to sort out the waste bags. I made up another small white bag of recyclables and put the sizeable 80-litre back with the others. Planning to put all of the smaller bags down the waste chute, and take the big one down in the lift to the caretaker’s area.
I got all, bar the big bag on the three-wheeler guide walker (not an easy job, as you can see, Haha!) Of out and to the waste room chute. Got them all down without any bother, and limped back, glad that I’d used the walker. It is so much safer and more comfortable on the feet than using the walking stick.
Back to the flat, and had a go at doing an earlier Iceland order, so I could put some of the Skimmed Viva milk on, for Jenny. Here goes. Got it done, coming tomorrow. I let Jenny know.
Got some new potatoes in the crock-pot, the yare smaller ones this time, so should get cooked in time, I hope. Added just some sea-salt this time. No more fancy seasonings this time!
Then got another of the zip-up jumpers hand-washed. Bit of a messy job. But got it done, wrung and hung. These are hard to ring-out, but the material drips down quickly, and I kept twisting at the bottom every ten-minutes or so. The one I did yesterday is hanging in the hall, above the airer.
Then went of Facebooking again, to see comments and a few piccies. I was on the TFZer site for so long, up to now, I’ve wrung out the jumper eleven times! Still, it’s getting dryerer all the time. Haha! Just finished on Facebooking The zip-up jumper has been wrung out… well, I don’t know, it must be near 50 times by now. Hehe!
The landline chirped int life. And a certain amount of satisfaction was obtained, when I found that it was the delightful and beautiful Hristina, my favourite Phlebotomy Nurse, calling! She said she would be in to take my blood, tomorrow, between 09:00 > 11:00hrs. This cheered me a tad! I have not had a blood test for about 3-4 weeks now, Coronavirus being the reason. And I’ve not seen Hristina (Pronounced in English as Christina) for eight or more weeks.
Getting late now, and Weariness Willy is kicking in. I’ll get the nosh done while I’m still awake.
Guess who burnt his arm on the oven tray? Ahem!
I went on the balcony, to take a photo of Chestnut Walk, and wondered, where have all the red cars gone? Not one red-one was in view on the site!
I got the nosh prepared next.
A quick nosh tonight. The spuds, mushy peas with vinegar, battered fish and tomatoes. A fair dollop of fodder, but I ate it all up, like the good boy I am. Haha!
The weariness was getting a bit serious now. I got the pots washed and settled myself down in the c1968, second-hand, broken-down recliner. (Thanks for this, to my Zyrophobia suffering, supercilious Brother-in-law Pete, who broke the recliner, when flat-searching, finding and taking my valuables, while I was the hospital after the stroke.)
I got settled proper and was soon off into a wonderfully satisfying deep sleep.
A couple of hours or so later, a scarily ongoing for a few seconds-worth of noise woke me up. Clattering, pinging, breaking glass, and other types of sounds were heard for a few seconds… then the brain engaged and panic ensued from mt grey-cells! “What was that!”
I freed my wobbly-stomached torso from the chair, grabbed the wooden walking stick, gained by balance, and fretfully made my way to where I thought the noise came from, the kitchen. The prop I use for hanging up the handwashing to drip dry, which balanced between the two wall cupboards, had tumbled down!
What a sad mess! The prop had brought down basins, cleaning products, plates, trays etc. as it fell.
I took a photograph halfway through the cleaning and clearing up. By the time I’d got it all sorted out the having to use the step ladders, and all of the bending etc. had done me in. I did not tackle the broken pottery, swept it to a corner and left it to be sorted in the morning. I had to stop before it was all done, and just get down to let the breathing settle, and soon nodded off, thankfully.
03:30hrs: I stirred reluctantly and felt the need for a wee-wee developing. I took a snap of the sadly overgrown toenails, and they stuck out from the thin quilt. I must get this quilt hand-washed later today, along with the two zip-up jumpers, I’m not too keen on the idea, but needs must and all that!
I ejurated common sense and went to get up without checking on the ailments first. No sooner nearly upright, and I was back down again with a ‘Thud,’ back into the £300, c1968, second-hand, sickeningly-beige-coloured, none working, ramshackle, uncomfortable in the extreme, rusty, rickety, near-lethal, recliner. Harold’s Haemorrhoids were instantly proffering forth pain, and, judging by the wet warm sensation, were bleeding as well! Not a very promising start to the day!
After a few mild curse words and questioning of my point in continuing, I regained my composure. And checked over things, yes, the piles will need attention. So, gingerly I made my way to the wet room. I took a WSSUGG (Weak-Squirty-Spraying-Uncontrollable-Greeny-Grey) wee-wee and investigated the rear-ends requirements. Cleaning and medicating ensued. (Silver-Lining Findings): At least Little Inchies fungal lesion was not bleeding. I had a good wash of the hands. I got a bit carried away with it, Hehehe!
Off to the kitchen, to get the medications, palmoscopy, injecting, creaming, ear holes oiling, and sphygmomanometerisationing was done.
The SYS was back up high again, Sys 172, DIA 79, Pulse 80, and the temperature was 35.4°c. There was no need for any extra pain-killers this morning. The rear end is a bit sore where I fell back down in the chair on Harold’s Haemorrhoids, but not too bad.
As I was taking this shot of the morning view, it dawned on me, I seek not fortunes or fame, but only ataraxia. But obviously, this is impossible; I don’t think it exists for anyone on earth, just a daydream state of mind. At the back of my warped troubled brain, I hoped I was wrong. I am an idiot!
I decided to take a photo of a chap who was walking down the middle of Chestnut Walk to the hill up to Woodthorpe Grange Park.
Now, how I managed to take four pictures is beyond me! I checked the camera, and it was on the ‘Auto’ option. Then as he walked to the gravel hill, I took another photo but took two this time?
Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were not playing up, nor was Shaking Shaun or Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley. So why, how?
I made another brew of Thompsons Punjana and started on the updating of the Saturday blog. Then another graphic finished the Saturday blog, posted it, and the links off. On to Pinterest, WordPress Reader, then TFZer Facebooking.
Stopped to get ablutions tended to. And a fantastic session it was! Dropsies? No more than eight, no toe-stubbings, trapped fingers. No knocking into or anything over either!
Smug-Mode-Engaged!.
The leg ulcer looks like it’s changed its mind about coming back and is much fainter now. I’m chuffed with this accident-free ablution session!
Made a start preparing Josie’s and my cheesy potatoes. Chives, grated Leicester cheese, salt and a knob of butter, well bashed and mashed. Got Josie’s meal on the server tray, and wheeled it to her door. She seemed pleased with it.
I got stuck into my nosh. The boiled new potatoes had been in the crock-pot for about six-hours but were not fully cooked, so they found their way into the waste bin sharpish. Flavour Rated: 5/10. A smidge disappointed, I rose and got the washing-up done, and as I did so, the doorbells chimed out.
Blimey, I’d forgotten all about the Amazon delivery coming. Burkinhamianism! It was the Stubbs Hickory bottles and the bags of Tiramisu Cashew nuts.
I got the Stubbs in the cupboard, and nuts in the spare room, after taking out bubble-wrapping, and put it in the box with the others, I aim to hand these to ILC and Ice-skating champion, Scharführeress Julie. She loves to destroy them, Pop, pop! Haha!
Then I got some handwashing done, but only one of the zip-up jumpers, but it’s a start. Got it washed, wrung and hung!
Then of to the Porcelain Throne, but Constipation Konrad ensured there was no action. Despite my best painful efforts! Hunglebrunkdunk!
Washed, and as I was coming out of the room, a sudden weariness and tiredness came over me.
The only thing to do was get sat down in the none-working, tattered, £300, second-hand, uncomfortable rickety recliner, and let nature take its course. Surprisingly, I was asleep within ten minutes, and having afternoon nightmares with it.
Gruumblesodditluck! I rose up and decided to get the black bags sorted ready for the morning, and by gum, the sun came out, so late in the day as well, bootiful it certainly was, though.
I amassed about eight or nine small bags for the skip. It was too late to take them to the chute now, the noise of the falling bags on there way down, they would disturb my fellow residents and neighbours. Not that it mattered to someone above who was tapping and clunking away, merrily doing something or other.
As I was going to get my head down and try again for sleep, I had to shoot off to the Porcelain Throne again. I half-expected another failed evacuation; and got the crossword book out. After a few minutes, the movement began! All of its own accord and under the guidance of the innards, it ground its way painfully out. I thought it would was never going to end… and when it did with a thud, more than a splash, the relief was so very welcome!
03:30hrs: I stirred into imitation life, and awaited the brain to join me. (It took a few moments).
As I maneuvred my cumbersome, wobbly-blobby frame up on my feet, I noticed that the Clopidogrel allergy inspired blotches and lumps had started to return. Ah-well!
The need for a wee-wee arrived, which I took, and then to the kitchen to do the medicationalisationing as needed. It was of the WSSUGG (Weak-Squirty-Spraying-Uncontrollable-Greeny-Grey) wee-wee style! But no pain, at all with it. Nice! The SYS had come down winsomely at last.
I opened the thick-framed, can’t get at to clean, letting rain in, anti-photographer designed, light & view-blocking new windows, to take a shot of Chestnut Walk below, and crikey, was the wind blowing in!
The medications were taken, and a welcoming mug of Glengettie tea was imbibed!
Off to the computer, and got started on doing up this blog on Blogger. But as I was doing so and searching for graphics, I spotted a comment from Tim Price. He’s put how to get to the old (not block) blogger, without going through a lot of bother and confusion. I tried it. An amazingly simple way to do it, thanks, Tim. I’m back in the editor before last now, so no full alignment button, but I’ll manage without it. Yipee!
I set to creating this blog and did a little CorelDrawing to get some graphics to use.
I remembered that my Iceland delivery was due, a pleasant change that, remembering something! Haha! So I had to stop computerisationing, and get the ablutions done, to be ready in time, in case the delivery comes early in the 8>10 given window.
It was drizzling in the breeze, so I took these shots through the balcony window, the first one towards my left and Sherwood, Mapperley, and Carrington.
The second picture was taken to my right, towards Daybrook, and Arnold, the North of Nottingham. It shows where the garages used to be at the dead-end of Chestnut Walk. I don’t know what the Council or Nottingham City Homes plans are for the area. It’s been fenced off.
It seems that red cars are making a comeback?
As a heavy shower, blown in a blustery than earlier wind started, I grabbed the four-pronged walking stick and hobbled off (rather nattily, I thought), to the wet room!
I assembled everything needed (apart from those I forgot about, hehe!), and amassed them outside the door, and turned on the shower power. Before I could do anything, the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived.
I had a sat-down mini-marathon of a wait for the evacuation to begin. And a partially successful go at the crossword book. But nothing moved! I could sense it wanted to, but Constipation Konrad was preventing any movement. So, I gave up, checked things were not messy, all was okay, and I got on with washing the dandies and getting the teggies cleaned.
As I was getting the teeth-cleaning things ready, I had to divert a few paces back to the Throne. It took me some time again, but when things did start, the motion was excruciating but short-lived. Leaving an aroma, with me coughing, that if it could be bottled, might be used as a nerve gas by the military (Hahaha!)
Now I have batteries; the power-brush was utilised and without a single gum cut! (Smug-Mode-Engaged!) Then, on to the shaving. A few dropsies, but fewer than usual. Razors (3), and the Shaving foam can, and no, I say, No Cuts! (Top lip curls in Elvis fashion and Smug-Mode goes up to Defcon 2. Hehehe!)
Even betterer still, in the shower! Not a single visit from Dizzy Dennis, that’s never happened before? (I’m not sure whether to happy about it or worry over it, Haha!) No shower-head drops! No involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dancing either! (Smug-Mode goes up to Defcon 2.2 Hehehe!) Mind you, I used one of those freebie hotel-sized soap tablets, that produced about five dropsies.
Oh, and no knocking into the shower chair or the grab bars either! Fanwondertasic!
The medicationing was also of a far less painful exercise. Little Inchies fungal lesion was not bleeding, Harold’s Haemorrhoids were less bothersome. Even the feet, not the toes, seemed less troublesome. Arthur Itis was in a rough mood with me, mind you. Overall, a decent session!
I got semi-dressed; No socks, too painful to use the sock-glide, anyway, it’s been that long, I’m not sure I can remember how to use it, now. Tsk! Got PPs, trousers, a jumper, and the slippers on.
With the Porcelain Throne extra-curricular activities, I got the ablutions finished much later than planned, but just before 08:00hrs, so in time, in case the Iceland delivery came early.
On the computer, to update this post. Now Tim Price has shown me how to get the Classic Editor going; this, even without the full-alignment option, is far better, more utible than the Google Blogger to use. Thanks, Tim!
Five minutes later, the natty Dusty Springfield ♫ , I only want to be with you! ♫ tune rang out from the front door.
Someone had let him in. He’s left the bags in the hallway near the door, and offered to put them through into the entrance for me. But I was in amazingly good, rude, health (for me, anyway) and feeling up for it, so declined his kind offer, and slipped him a can of pink G & T. I know he likes them! I got them through to the kitchen and deposited them where I could find room. Haha!
Not such a big order today, but the fridge was still a tad crammed with nosh by the time I’d finished putting things away.
I then got a pack of small fresh mushrooms in the crock-pot for later. Seasoned them, accidentally from the hickory bottle, in error for the Light Soy sauce bottle. Bungle-Grumplewuncks! But, hey-ho, I just added some Soy to it as well. So, fingers crossed.
The wholemeal deli rolls were flattened as only Iceland damaging goods skills can be. However, this will not stop me from eating them. I plan for some of the Robirch skinless sausages, two of each to go into the individual rolls, with some sliced tomatoes and the mushrooms as a side? The problem with this plan being, the tomatoes are Morrocan. The last time I had some, they were really, in fact, not eatable! Little juice, bitter and rock hard! But of course, these may be sweet and tasty? Pigs might fly! Haha!
As I got back to blogging again, the landline burst forth with its flashing light. It was Brother-in-law-Pete. advising me that they had not received the link for yesterday’s blog. So I investigated and found I had not sent it. I made the excuse that with all the trouble with getting back on WordPress had thrown me off course. I apologised and promised to get it sent off straight away. I did feel a fool!
I went on Facebook next.
I heard a familiar yapping and went to see which dog it was. It was the fussy-full of life little black dog. His, or her tail never stops wagging, doesn’t stop, only for the odd sniff here and there. Lovely animal.
I took a snap that shows what I mean by the new windows being light & view blocking. I’ve been spoilt by the old windows, they were one turnable giant sheet of glass, that was easy to clean, and gave me freedom when it came to photographing.
I got the nosh prepared and served up. This meal was given a 6/10 for flavour and taste. The mushroom that I cocked-up cooking and put the Hickory in to season instead of the Soy sauce, then added light-soy, were just about edible, but not very nice. The Morrocan tomatoes were less foul than last weeks but still horrible. The delightful seedless grapes, and tasty skinless sausage baps, were excellent!
I put the TV on to check if there was anything worth viewing and saw some back-to-back documentaries were showing, on channel 91. So I went to get the pots washed up.
Then returned to watch the TV.
But the concentration on the engrossing and I think a most interesting documentary was lost. Lost to the Thought-Storming. That was worrying, fearing and at times a little panicky. My confidence was at a low ebb.
3:30hrs: I woke in a confused state, yes, even more than usual! The Thought-Storms were not making much sense either, a sort of medley of verbal mayhem, mostly making no logical or appertaince. self-arguments, that should have been of no concern, in my bonce!
I took a shot of my, painful tootsies, no idea why? Then I rose gingerly up onto my poor agony-ridden pins and toes, and the brain seemed to be still sat in £300, second-hand, c1968, rickety, none-working, recliner.
I, for some reason, decided to try and master the annoyingly difficult WordPress editor again. Mainly, because the Google blogger was about as bad, although it does have a ‘full justify’ button, and no damned confusing blocks.
It’s no good, I’m giving up. The full-justify doesn’t work!
I’ve taken over three hours to get this far.
To complicated, frustrating.
Grammarly no longer works on WordPress!
I am most frustrated and annoyed!
The instructions on how to get rid of the new crap editor was followed, and the things that I should chose were no on the page.
Fanmarveloustic! Chinwags, From a Socially acceptable distance, of course! And great weather!
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.
Checked on the electronic notice board, no rush after all. 12-minutes before the bus was due! A hobble down Chestnut Walk
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.
Now here’s a rare sight, Milton Street with no moving traffic on it!
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.
02:30hrs: I woke, in no mood to become active in mind or body. Gawd blimey, I was still so tired! Never have I had such Clinomania, and reluctance to wake up, let alone get up! A little discussion between my brain vs my lack of willpower and interest in anything, resulted in the recreance winning this time, and I nodded off into sweet obliviousness.
03:10hrs: I stirred again, and had another battle with myself as to get up or not! I seemed to be in a state of hypnagogia again. I felt I had to rise, whatever the body and ailments told me, and I was determined to. I fell asleep again!
04:10hrs: I came back to reality yet again. This time with the need for a wee-wee, forcing me to beat my reluctance for returning to the land of the living. Robotically, I inched my ginormous wobbly-stomached burdened body out of the creaking, £300, second-hand c1968, grotty, repellently beige-coloured recliner, with the sticks assistance, I got up onto my painfully long toenailed feet.
As I struggled to get to the wet room, I espied signs of nocturnal nibbling on the Ottoman tray! But at the time, no feelings of guilt were sensed, for the wee-wee was getting more urgent now!
Unfortunately, in my haste, I knocked corner stand, and I heard things fall off of it. No stopping, onward, the wee-wee must be released! And what a wee-wee! An HPSAUOC (High-Pressure-Sprinkly-Unexpectedly-Orange-Colour) style. But not a long one, and no pain with it, so that was good!
As I was cleaning and medicating Little Inchies bleeding fungal lesion, in between the stabs of pain as the Daktacort® 2% w/w Miconazole nitrate and hydrocortisone cream was applied, it dawned on me, (things like this do happen (occasionally). I spotted some empty clementine juice cans on the Ottoman.
I wonder if these might be the reason the orange wee-wee?
The ankle-ulcer was looking far betterer, and Arthur Itis was not acting up too much either, which was a plus.
It might have been my eyes or desire, but when I sneezed, I’m sure the Big Belly Bernard shook less than usual? (Well, I can dream?)
Also, and as well as, Anne Gyna was kind to me. No Dizzy Dennis or Reflux Roger, Shaking Shaun or Back-Pain-Brenda visits!
Fair enough, Toothache Tim and Duodenal Donald were making up for this, and a sore throat was developing. But overall, this getting up late seems to suit me? But, of course, most likely it just fooled the other ailments temporarily. Arnie Schwarzeneggers? They’ll be back!Hehehe!
Washed and off to the kitchen. Where I took a distance shot from the kitchen unwanted, light & view-blocking, thick-framed windows, there were obviously designed by someone suffering from ‘Mere-Exposure Effect’ syndrome.
It was my Zyrophobia suffering, supercilious Brother-in-law Pete, who made me take a close-up, of the City Hospital. The poor lad will be in there this morning, having another biopsy done on his mystery ailment. I thought it might cheer him up a tad, reading this if he can afterwards. The yellow rectangle is the area I zoomed into for the second shot.
All the best, Pete, mate! Nowt you can do, but await the results now. I pray they are good news. I have thought you’d have escaped and taken a photo of the flats? Hehehe!
I made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, took the medications and got the thermometer and sphygmomanometer out. The machine was like me earlier this morning, not interested in working!
It took me three tries to get it to work. (it took me the same to get up! Hahaha!)
The plates of meat were giving me some stick, and for some unknown reason, the area around where the ankle ulcer comes up now and then was extremely itchy. Yet there were no signs of any inflammation or new growth? With the nails getting ever longer, I’d continued not to wear socks, I even took the slippers off to ease things.
But they’ll go back on after the ablutions are done.
The stomach felt a little firmer, I think. But this might be and usually is, a prewarning of the innards about to kick off. I anticipate a battle between Trotsky Terence and Constipation Conrad to ensue. Which will prevail I wouldn’t guess. Lately, it seems to go from one extreme to the other nearly every day. Still, it makes for a bit of interest. Haha!
Toothache Tim kicked off on the first sip of tea! That put the mockers on drinking ant brew for the rest of the day. Gangleboggleisations!
I made a start on the blogging update. It was as if someone was turning on a tap every half-hour or so. I swear you can see the imprint of the four-pronged walking stick, and outline of my feet in the carpet, to and from the wet room, I had hobble there so many times! Silver-Lining Search Result: But, at least I got the update done in reasonably good time, with only Shuddering Shoulder Shirley giving any real hassle. My thanks to Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, Shaking Shaun and Dizzy Dennis! Bless you, all!
After the umpteenth wee-wee, I made a mug of Glengettie tea and went on CorelDraw while it cooled down before trying it. Argh! Toothache-Tim, was not pleased, in the least! I threw it away. That’s the end of my tea drinking for the day! I took an extra Codeine 30g. (Too late now of course. Silly old sausage!)
I set up the template for today’s blog. Then went on the WordPress reader. Then onto the Facebooking, which I enjoy so much. Then it was time for the ablutions to be tended to.
I’d done the teeth, bloodlessly, but it was a bit painful with Toothache Tim nudging his way into the scene. (Swank-Adopted!) While I was moving the clothes, I’m sure I saw the shape of a rabbits head in the moved flannels. Can anyone else see it, or am I going daft? Or maybe I should say, dafter?
I photographed the stomach before and after the shower. But there was no difference as I could see.
The shaving activity brought about a few dropsies, not many. Razors (4), shaving foam can (2), and a decentish clouting of the back of the hand against the sink. The showering went fine, in fact so well, I was considering giving myself a medal. Hahaha!
I got dried off and set about the perfumery and medication duties. These took longer than the teggies, shaving and showering out together! Olive-piled the ear-holes first. No Saccades Sandra spray left to use, Grungleclapskin! Applied the Germoloid cream (Wince!). Then got some after-shave on the one tiny cut. Sprayed the Brute deodorant over the elephantine body. Last of the Brute spray used up! Got the Phopain gell well-rubbed into the knees. And carefully, Note no toe-stubbing or dropping of the showerhead again! Smug Mode Adopted! I made my way to the front room to get clothed.
I had to get the slippers on, a sharp intake of breath, and a silently mumbled ‘Argh!’ later, and I was ready to get the black bags and recycling prepared for taking downstairs.
While doing this, I decided that tomorrow, I will try to catch a bus to town, (if they are running) and visit, (if they are open), the Poundland shop, now my curfew has been eased. It’s all a bit vague innit? Later I’ll ask on the Winwood Heights Facebook, is anyone knows about the buses and Poundland.
I got the bags made up, and onto the three-wheeled trolley walker. Off to the waste chute room. Gawd! the toes and plates were giving me agony! I pondered over whether going out tomorrow was a good idea or not after all?
I struggled a bit getting the bags in the chute, not because they were heavy or large, they weren’t. The problem was Shuddering Should Shirley had kicked off again, and she meant business this time. This encouraged the right legs involuntary drop-something and have a Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance. Nearly had me over, so it was a good thing I was in such confined space at the time!
I left the trolley in the lift lobby. taking a moody photo of it, with the shadows, as I returned to the flat, to pick up the fob key, just in case when I went down with the big bag of recyclables, I got locked out. (It has happened more than once, Tsk!)
Back and collected the trolley, using the walls in the narrow hallway, so I didn’t worry if I had a funny turn, the dancing returned, or Dizzy Dennis visited.
Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was merely giving the odd twitch now, but I knew she had not finished with me yet.
Waiting for the lift, I got the camera out, ready for when the lift doors opened. I’m glad no one was in it at the time. Haha!
Down to the ground floor. Met and had a few words with Ethel in the lobby. Then through the caretaker’s passage to the bins. Both of the caretakers were there outside, and Steve took the bag from me. A few words, during which Shirley gave them a display of quality Shoulder Shuddering. Which drew looks between the two men, and an “Are yer alright? and frowned foreheads. It’s so embarrassing when someone is nearby when this happens. I said I was fine, thanks. I must have looked a right pillock as I shook my way back inside.
I increased the heat to high in the crock-pot with the potatoes in, and opened a tin of peas and put them in a saucepan. Then, as Shirley was easing off, Duodenal Donald started, a bad do too, supported with a bit of stabbing from Anne Gyna. Ah, well, things had been to calm earlier on, it had to come.
I could find no details about the buses on the website. So asked on Winwood Heights Facebook, if anyone knew about the buses or Poundland store. Hugh ‘thinks’ the L9 is running in a Saturday timetable. If so, That’ll do me.
I decided to take some photos from the balcony. Seemed a good idea at the time.
I got the right side Metal-Spring controlled, that needs the recoiling bit pressed and pulled at the same time to do open it, (potentially lethal, but okay for Winwood Heights old folks to use) with merely a bruised finger and elbow this time. Then took a couple of pictures.
Beatiful views
Tried Josie’s door again. No answer.
Tired out and still shaking a bit, I got the nosh prepared. I ate it in an auto-mode, no idea why, but as the concentration gave way to fatigue, I’m sure I enjoyed it.
Wash the pots up, and as the dying sunshine blasted its last beams on earth, I got the camera and tried to take a decent shot of the scene.
It dawned on me then, I can’t remember using the Porcelain Throne today? But being in the languorous, lackadaisical, lethargic state of mind I was in, I wasn’t sure or certain of anything.
I’m not sure what happened for the next half-hour or so, I sort of came-back into focus as I was in the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner, with my legs up high on the old swivel chair, and deep in thought about tomorrows plans to get out to town on the bus. Then I remembered that this will not be possible, I’d forgotten about Jenny’s helping me out ordering stuff for me, it’s being delivered Tuesday. Hey-ho! As much as I was looking forward to getting out, for some reason, this did not bother me? Maybe, I had underlying fears of going out after so many weeks lodged in the flat?
I soon found that Sweet Morpheous was uninterested in letting me get any rest. The Thought-Storms began, tormenting me with memories that I hadn’t recalled for years. I’d guess it was gone midnight by the time I finally managed to nod of.
00:00hrs: I’d just got the Saturday blog done and posted off when midnight arrived.
Sleep has been unavailable, none-existent all night. But now, after setting up this template, I will try again, I need some rest. Why I could not get off earlier is a mystery. Maybe the sudden hot weather, or the day I had yesterday? Everything that happened reminded me of my bad fortunes and luck. I was grumpy with myself and got annoyed and irritable most of the time. Carping in the brain, moaning, cantankerously belly-aching, whining on, and wingeing and ended up boring myself!
Well, at least I got things shut down, and settled my corpulent, boing-boinging bellied body into the second-hand, £300, c1968, puckeringly-beige-coloured recliner, without any injuries.
I’d half-hoped to get off to kip sharpishly, but no. I turned the TV on, that often helps me fall asleep. Especially if some programme comes on, that I want to watch. But insomnia prevailed. I just lay there trying to stop the thought-storming, for ages, hours!
05:15hrs: I bestirred, the main expergefactor being the need for a wee-wee. Out of the recliner, and to the GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Bucket) SWOT (Sprinkly-Weak-Orange-Tinged), mode. Took the container with me to be cleaned and sanitised. An out-of-the-blue need for the Porcelain Throne was tended to, and a flipping good job I was in the wetroom at the time. Else I never would have made it in time to the Throne! Phew!
Not messy, or gooey, but keenly-painful (they all are nowadays!)
Disappointingly, as I opened the kitchen window, I realised by the wonderful petrichor, I’d missed the rain. The ground outside was not soaking wet, so it must have been a short shower of sorts. But it left a beautiful whiff in the air! A bit colder this morning too.
Made a brew, medications taken, and after another quick wee-wee, the sphygmomanometerisationing commenced. Sys was back up a smidge, and the thermometer read 32.9°c (91.2°f) which is, I think, healthier than it’s been for a while. That is if I remembered the way to convert from Celsius to Fahrenheit. Ended up using Google) My arithmophobia doesn’t help. Nor the discovered too late to counter it, dyscalculia. Sad, innit? But, I had to laugh when they told me about it, it brought to mind Dracula! Hehehe!
For some unknown reason, typing this, reminded of the Dr in the cardiac unit, in the City Hospital. I know I had been given some pre-transplant drugs, but it seems soundly entrenched in my memory – I hope it’s true and not a dream I’d had. A Mr someone or other was going to observe the procedure.
The surgeon came to the bed and told me about this Consultant who was on his way to see me. “We are holding back your other pre-op meds, in case he wishes to speak with you!” “I’ll be back with him later, Mr Chaplin”. I mentioned my name was Chambers. Minutes later, Dr Khandowa introduce me to the Consultant as Mr Chamberlain! I recall thinking: “Gawd-blimey, and he’ll be replacing my ticker in an hour!” Hahaha! He did a good job though.
The assistant who put the metal strips through the ribcage to reseal it afterwards, whoever he was, had put them in, as the nurses said when they came to take them out days later ‘Tighter than we have ever seen them done before! I had never had pain like it before, even when I got shot. The nurse was sat on my legs heaving and puffing to pull the metal strips out. One nurse kept spraying liquid Morphine in my mouth throughout the job. Through it all, I have a distinct, pleasurable occasion though… But of course, once the metal tubing was removed, the nurse had to get off of me and the bed! Shame!
I waffled there again, I beg your pardon.
Then, after one more wee-wee, of a different calibre this one. A SWAT, (Sprinkly-Weak-Apricot-Tinged) configuration. I then made a brew of Thompsons Punjabi, and went on CorelDraw and Paint to make up some urgently–needed graphics for later use.
But plans were again cocked-up. No doubt prompted by the mysterious wonders of Woodthorpe Court: The ghosts, hobgoblins, boll-weevils, aliens, gremlins, karakia-cursing entities, hallucinations. Materialisations, poltergeist, lemures, wairuas, kehuas, manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan, ‘Let’s Piss-off Inchcock’ mission?
At least this time, it only lasted for a few minutes, then came back on of its own accord.
Started again on the graphicalisationing. Three hours later, I was feeling real-weary, and not got o very well with the graphic making. For one, not from the ailments, just from the tired worn-outness. I must get some sleep in, this lack of sleeping is getting farcical. Just to point out one problem its causing; as I wrote ‘farcical’, I thought of a more suitable word, then cleared farcical from the blog, and forgot what the word was I was going to replace it with! So, I put ‘Farcical back in. I down know whether to laugh or cry! Yes, I do! Hahaha!
I rang Sister Hane to ask about Pete, and blow me he was back at home again! He’s to go back in for the biopsy tomorrow. The chap in the ward with him is having chemo and told Pete of the problems with it. I lost the signal while talking. I rang back on the landline, but it doesn’t-half cost to call mobiles on it. Despite all the Up-in-the-Airness of things with the hospital, Pete sounded okay and accepting of things until he gets the job done, and analysis later. His spirits seem reasonably high. Good for him. I’ll have a look at the City Hospital with the binoculars tomorrow, see if I can see him. Hehe! Jane and Pete told me I could go out from tomorrow. But I won’t go without a mask. I’ll check the Government statement later.
A few minutes late, the door chimes rang out the ♫ I only want to be with you! ♫ tune. It was Josie, to let me know she was going out with her Nephew, to celebrate his birthday. I wished her all the bestest, but I felt a little concerned she was going out, so soon.
The Nikon camera battery was flat, so I got the Canon to take a photo of the Puff-Puff clouds, and that was flat, in fact, it was dead! I cunningly got out the old Lumix, thinking it might have enough power left in its battery. I didn’t. So, I’ve now got all three on charging. And if I want to watch telly later, the computer will have to come off. I’m such a lucky-bugger. Hair-brained, too!
I got the nosh prepared. I hope I can stay awake long enough to enjoy it. With virtually no sleep for such a long time, I feel confident of dropping off. But, hopefully, not before I want to. Worra life, innit! Into the kitchen to take the meds and prepare the meal.
I remembered about looking at the latest can-do again things Jane mention. So I got the computer back on for a look:
Vulnerable people in England and Wales advised to stay home since the coronavirus lockdown began will be able to go outdoors again from Monday. This change means people will be able to go out with members of their household. Those living alone can meet with someone from another household while maintaining social distancing. Support for shielders, such as food and medicine deliveries, will continue.
Those shielding should not go out to work, to shop or visit friends in their homes. Around 2.5 million UK people were advised to stay at home as lockdown began because they were identified as being at particularly high risk of needing hospital treatment for coronavirus symptoms. Most were notified by their GP. Thelist of people who should be shielding includes, Clinically extremely vulnerable people may include the people listed below, though disease severity, history or treatment levels will also affect who is in this group.
Solid organ transplant recipients. (Ah, I’m in here!)
People with specific cancers:
people with cancer who are undergoing active chemotherapy. (Nope not me!)
people with lung cancer who are undergoing radical radiotherapy. (Nope not me!)
people with cancers of the blood or bone marrow such as leukaemia, lymphoma or myeloma who are at any stage of treatment. (Nope not me!)
people having immunotherapy or other continuing antibody treatments for cancer. (Nope not me!)
people having other targeted cancer treatments which can affect the immune system, such as protein kinase inhibitors or PARP inhibitors (Nope not me!)
people who have had bone marrow or stem cell transplants in the last 6 months, or who are still taking immunosuppression drugs (Nope not me!)
People with severe respiratory conditions including all cystic fibrosis, severe asthma and severe chronic obstructive pulmonary (COPD). (Ah, I’m in here!)
People with rare diseases that significantly increase the risk of infections (such as severe combined immunodeficiency (SCID), homozygous sickle cell). (Nope not me!)
People on immunosuppression therapies sufficient to significantly increase the risk of infection. (No idea what this means!)
Women who are pregnant with significant heart disease, congenital or acquired. (Nope not me!)
People in this group should have been contacted to tell them they are clinically extremely vulnerable.
Some scientists have expressed concerns about England’s easing of lockdown rules while infection rates remain at around 8,000 per day according to the Office for National Statistics. “Many of us would prefer to see the incidence down to lower levels before we relax measures,” said Professor John Edmunds, from the London School of Tropical Hygiene and Medicine and one of the government’s top advisors. “Covid-19 is still spreading too fast to lift lockdown in England,” tweeted Jeremy Farrar, director of the Wellcome Trust.
It’s all confusing to me!
Back to gerrin’ some nosh prepared and eaten. The five-beans in vinegarette were pretty tasteless and bland, despite my adding Hickory and Balsamic vinegar while heating them up. Most disappointing, because it said they were in vinegar, I felt certain they would be delicious and bought four cans! Huh! Three to get rid off.
As for the other stuff, they were all okay. The seedless grapes, this time from Egypt, were a lot less sweet than the Indian ones, but this was alright with me. The sourdough muffins were well Marmited and went well with everything else. I soon satiated my hunger, cleaned the pots, thought about having a shave, but felt so tired I rejected the idea. (Which will probably mean more bleeding when I have to shave so much stubble off in the morning, Tsk!)
I got down in the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner, and events seemed to have been lost into the ether. I can remember nothing else, until waking in the morning? And, I got about 6½ hours kip in!
