Inchy – Thurs 30th July 2020: Horrendous, gruesome, busy, insufferable, and at times, hellacious day!

TFZer, Model Lona

Thursday 30th July 2020

Scots Gaelic: Diardaoin 30 Luchar 2020

03:40hrs: I almost fluttered into life this morning, mainly due to Saccades Sandra taking a while to let me focus visually, enough to risk getting up to move about. My attempts at getting some seeable vision by blinking and stretching the eyes with the forehead reminded me of butterflies and old black & white films. Eventually, things settled a lot, and I began to hunch my overly-weighted, bouncing-bellied body from the c1968, none-working, rickety, rusty, recliner.

As I had just got up on the pins and caught my balance, the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived. The innards enforced the urgency of the situation, by adding to its typical signs of stabbing pains, a gurgling sound, and mini-escapages of wind, that left a putridness, that seemed to follow me around for ages! Stick in hand, and being wary of the creases in the ever-moving carpeting, I moved as quickly as I could, to the wet room!

I just made it in time! The motion began entirely of its own accord. It was once again of the Diarhorrea Duncan mode, like yesterday, the only difference was it seemed to stop short, and I had to painfully force the last bits out. Argh!

I was foolishly, somewhat over-rigorously antisepticising a certain area, and Little Inchies fungal lesion started bleeding. I cleaned things up and applied the Corticosteroid cream generously, in hopes of stemming the flow of Warfarin and Morphine contaminated Haemoglobin. To my satisfaction, it did the job!

Manly, I merely winced, then threw back my head, and mockingly laughed at the pain! Eurgh-Ouch!

Thus,  Harold’s Haemorrhoids bled profusely, and much cleaning-up and medicationalisationing were needed. Oh, by the way, I’d like to sing the praises of Andrex Toilet Tissue here. So much less painful, and it allowed the first flush to remove everything! Shame, I’ve only got the one roll left, Tsk! I’ve got plenty more rolls though, that I’ve Christened ‘Ten-Flushes-Rolls’, left. Hehehe!

After cleaning and creaming certain areas in need, I departed off to the Kitchenette. Noticing how flipping cold it was this morning, in the flat anyway. The first thing I checked was if I had left a window open, but no.

Got the kettle on, and the Health Checks things out ready, and risked opening the thick-framed, light & view-blocking new windows, and attempted to take a shot of the morning view. As you can see on the right here, it didn’t come out very well, crap actually! Humph! It’s that bad, the Tate Gallery might be interested in showing it, perhaps?

Did the Health Checks, and was pleased with the results, the temperature showed as just ‘Low’, it might be stuck on this and not working? Tsk!

Made the brew of Assam Extra-Strong tea, went to the computer and got her going, and had to return to the wet room for a wee-wee. I’ve not had a leak like this for ages, of the VSWAOTP (Viciously-Spraying-Wildy-All-Over-The-Place) fashion. So, more cleaning and disinfecting had to be done. It’s a good job that I don’t have any friends to visit. I’d be cleaning their toilets, the wall, floor, and porcelain out of habit! Hahaha!

I found two photos from last night, one of the meats prepared for cooking, and then what turned out to be delicious Chinese belly pork nosh!

Crock-pot cooked potatoes, with just sea salt added. The fresh pod peas, boiled with a bit of castor sugar, Piccolo tomatoes, a disc of Marmite Cheese, and the Chinese Hoisin seasoned belly pork. I recall enjoying this one very much. A flavour rating of 8/10!

I pressed on and got a template made for tomorrow, then started this blog going. After about an hour or so, of relatively ailment-free botherations, I went to make another mug of tea, Glengettie this time. 

After another fireman’s hosepipe-like wee-weeing, and cleaning up session, I went to get the vegetables prepped and in the crock-pot. I used the large one today, for the first time in ages.

Shelled the peas and cut the leeks. Then sliced some red onions, and added them all to the potatoes in the large crock-pot. Added some sea salt and Oxo vegetable stock. Put it on the low-setting, then got the things washed up I’d dirtied prepping the vegetables.

Only a few peas were dropped and lost. Not cuts with the knife! No burnt fingers either! Mind you, I did hit my head bending down to retrieve a lost pea. Hahaha!

Back to Computer Cameron, and did a search for any local Corona Virus updates.

Then got things ready to get the ablutions done. And off to the wet room, and looking forward to getting a shower, and talking to the Sock-Glide, in a sneering manner, as it sits there, sulking contemptuously, almost scathingly. Desperate to get back to cutting me, bruising me, tripping me over, stubbing my toes, and mostly donating blood blisters, and welts on my fingers! (Sorry, I’m losing it here!)

After checking that the Amazon delivery tracker, I(They have not reached the delivery base yet!) to make sure the slippers would not arrive early, I trundled off to the wet room.

Well, a surprisingly few Whoopsies suffered (Some, of course!) session!

The teeth cleaning went well, the shaving had only two dropsies (both razors). The showering, well. a few here, the showerhead dropped (2), and the shower gel bottle.

Drying off, the sock glide sat there, staring at me all the time. I’m, not sure it didn’t even scoff at me at one time! Hahaha!

Bit of a set-back on the medicalisationing tasks, though. Little Inchies fungal lesion started to bleed again, but only a bit. I double-winced as I applied the cream. I clouted my right elbow against the sink, then.

Probably the most entertaining new, a first-time-ever Accifauxpas! As I was holding the towel in each hand, going to and fro drying my back, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failed me! My right hand shot off, and I gave myself a hell of a thump, right on my nose! Cribblebogangonies!

A drop of blood flowed, I went dizzy, Saccades Sandra kicked off, the nose went red, and I felt a right fool! After cleaning up the tiny spots of blood, I just had to take a selfie of the red nose. But, by the time I’d got around to taking the photo, it had all but gone. Hehehe!

Well, Tate Gallery, are you interested? Or am I to think of something along the lines of the American minimalist sculptor, Carl Andre, and do something like his brick display? I can think of a few words to describe what I thought, and still do, think of it.

Pitiable, pathetic, lamentable, dismal, ludicrous, feeble, phoney, laughable, hair-brained, asinine, and glaikit, come immediately to mind.

Carl Andre, an artist? Pull the other one! Humph and Fiddlesticks! Art, my Arse!

I came out from the wet room, feeling in a half-decent mood. And decided to get the blue Mayanmar (Formerly Burma) made, Primark zip-up 100% Polyester, £9.99, top washed.

You can see how well I live can’t you, pure class!

I really didn’t think it would be quiet as dirty as it was! Cor Blimus, I rinsed it that often until the water came clear, it must have taken me an hour before I got it done, wrung and hung above the sink to drip-dry! Dirty Inchcock! It should be dry by about September.

I make a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea. And took a shot of the City Hospital. Where my Xyrophobia suffering, over amour propred Brother-in-law Pete, pools winner and three-time Lottery winner (Not counting his up-to-now 278 scratch-card wins – counts them every week you know!), went in for his Big C treatment, and I got good vibes back while I was taking it. Fingers crossed, for the lucky, handsome, hair on head, clever-with-his-hands, electrical genius! 

I rang out the hanging shirt come jacket, as I have been doing regularly since having washed it. Then returned to the updating on this blog, I’m getting a little weary now, and reckon the Amazon slippers will arrive late today. And still haven’t caught up on the WordPress Reader and Facebook yet!

An hour or so later, I went for a mug of Glengettie tea. Amnd noticed I’m not-half doing some sneezing?

I returned and took this photo on the right, from the computer chair, of the view out of the balcony, on my left.

I then went on the WordPress Reader section. Then onto Facebooking, to try and catch-up. A bit slow going on the computer again. Humph!

I thought as you do, I’ll enlist with Sainsbury’s, and make an order. What could go wrong? Hah!

The hands were bad, Nicodemus again. But I signed on with them and started doing an order. When it came to the checkout, well, what performance. All the numbers and details they wanted, and I must have made so many mistakes, cause I to repeat things sop often, I ren out of time and I got blocked by them!

Then I found I was supposed to have signed up with Nectar, that was of great confusion for me, the numbers and passwords was a nightmare, after filling in the pages, it kept coming back that the details were wrong! I had to repeatedly reset at least four passwords and I got myself into a bad panic (My numbers phobia again), in a right muddle.

Then I got blocked for a second time for not completing in the given 30/40-minute (Security) window!

Then Nectar sent me another password reset, and I just didn’t know what I was doing! The only time I wished I lived with someone for years, no help, no time to get any. everything was being tightly timed, and Shuddering-
Shoulder-Shirley kicked-off, Oh dear! 

Eventually, Gawd knows how, but I got back on the Sainsbury page, and they had kept the order I was doing on the page. Then I had to put in all the bank details again. More passwords needed! Then I had reset one a second time!

The scribble on my notepad was barely readable! But, I found a doggedness, and eventually, signed in again with Sainsbury’s (3rd time), and had yet again, to put in the card details, with time running out for the third time!

I got the order sent off eventually, but I had to confirm various details again first, and I kept getting emails… Crap!

Then, when they accepted payment, sent me details, I found they had charged me £7 for delivery!

Believe it or not, I’m feeling proper poorly now. I can’t cope on my own anymore.

I’ll just have to take that offer up to marry me from Michelle Pfeiffer, then.

And the slippers have yet to come, the vegetables for the stew have been overcooked methinks! 

Then the INR test result record was delivered. From Monday’s blood giving. Took them a while this week, and I realised that no one from the surgery or Anticoagulation and Deep Vein Thrombosis Clinic, had called with me new dosages.

Pathetically, I felt a little sorry for myself, after such a reasonable day as well. Then realised I’d been up for fourteen hours, Nicodemus and Shirley were both pestering me, what a state to get into.

Then I realised, in getting signed on with Sainsbury’s and Nectar, had cost me three hours of my life! And left me drained, and wee’d off. I’m guessing the numbers and figures going all wrong, has started this depression off, but I’m only guessing. 

No one to talk to, fall out with, and even Herbert is not knocking and banging about today! Ah, well, Que sera, sera!

I’m not even feeling hungry yet, what’s going on? Hahaha! Knick-knockers!

I’ll see if the slippers are anywhere near, on the Amazon tracker.

My stupidity continues! It knows no bounds! The Universe is its Oyster! I looked at the tracker and it was showing the map. I saw the red circle, and assumed the van was outside the flats! So, I went and stood near the intercom waiting for it to go off. I stood there for ages, too scared to move in case I didn’t hear the pathetic, weak tone of the intercom box when it went off. It can’t be much longer I said to myself. But it was!

Forty minutes later, I nipped back quickly to check on the tracker again, below on the original tracker when I looked, I widened the picture and realised the red circle was the flats, a green one was the lorry, that didn’t show up on the first screen, thus, this old fart was confused! What a pillock!

I was just glad when the driver did eventually get up to the flat, it was about an hour later. He was in a terrible rush, dropped the bag on the floor and shot off! I don’t think he heard my thank you, especially as it was being interfered with by Stuttering Stephanie!

I put the well-squashed bag down, dropping the four-pronged metal stick as I did so, and of course, naturally, as is to be expected, it goes without saying, came down and hit my toes! Grubblesoddit!

I tore open the bag, to reveal the semi-flattened brown slippers, with outside-soles! Tsk!

I tried to reshape them, had a modicum of success too.

I got the vegetables out of the slow-cooker and into the pan of canned stewed steak, seasoned with some gravy salts. Came back to this computer, and within minutes I could smell burning! I limped ASAP into the kitchen, to find the pan of stew bubbling merrily away! I’d turned the heat up, instead of off!

Is there any hope or future for me? Grobbleknangles! I wonder if there’s a Senior Citizens adoption society or Grandpappy Replacement Union? No, that wouldn’t be fair on anyone.

Shattered as I felt, I had to make up a template for tomorrow. So through closing eyes, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, and the Stinging Harold Haemorrhoids, I did just that. Smug-Mode-Engaged!

Went on the comments to catch up, I’ve had a wickedly busy day again.

I grafted away at this blog until fatigue defeated me! Managed to make a template for tomorrow, then I went on email to sort out all the harassing from Sainsbury’s and Nectar, but mainly, cause I’m feeling guilty for not answering Lisa until so late, so I’ll do that first.

I may be back… Hahaha!

I’ve replied to Lisa, at last, and had a bash on the WordPress reader.

Went to make a brew of Glengettie tea, and despite it being so late, the Sun was high and blasting.

A lovely evening, weatherwise!

Shattered, I am! I’m going to post this off now, then get summat to eat, the stew, if it tastes alright overcooked.

TTFNski, each!.

 

Inchcock – Wednesday 29th July 2020: Warning: This contains an X-Rated Ablutionalisationing Report!

TFZer Keith, Modelling

Wednesday 29th July 2020

Welsh: Dydd Mercher 29ain Gorffennaf 2020

I’m writing from 2030hrs last night. At last, after much harassment and many botherations, thanks to Jenny, I eventually got some nosh made (See right – A delight). 

And what a nosh it was. Despite my being knackerated, in state of body and mind, I gladly ate it all up! Chinese belly pork, baked beans flavoured with BBQ seasoning and tomato puree, and mushrooms, some milk roll bread, made a fruit salad of sorts, and raspberry ripple mousse. Taste Rating: 8/10.

Left pots to soak in the sink, and dived down into the recliner in search of Sweet Morpheous. But I think I must have been over-tired or something, cause it was ages before I got off. Tsk!


03:20hrs: I woke with a start, talk about confused, the mind was indeed not working very well. Maybe I’d had an odd dream, though I cannot recall having one. No matter what day is it, for a moment I had to concentrate on who I was! It was a cringe-worthy few moments before the brain engaged properly. (Well, I say properly, hehehe!)

Just as things were mentally settling, the dreaded ‘Inner-Gurgling’ started, and I had to make my way to the wet room ASAP, stumbling along with the stick, en route I blamed last night’s meal. I’ve never had Diahorrea-Duncan so bad in my life! After thunderingly flopping on the seat, the evacuation began immediately, almost liquid, and it felt so uncomfortable. Eugh! The tummy ache got worse after the session had finished! I’m getting a little wee’d-off with the ever-changing motions of late. And, all the cleaning up and medicating after the event. Even after waiting so long for completions, it was like a dripping tap, the wee-weeing continued with the PMAD (Post-Micturition After-Dribble). I dread to think how long I was in there for. But hope lies ahead, faith will not be lost, my mission will continue, and progress will be made! I’ve not got the foggiest idea what I’m talking about, here?

Off to the kitchen! Washed last night’s pots, then the kettle on and tried again to take a decent shot of the morning view, but I’m not doing well recently with these shots. Still, it was no worse than yesterday’s early morning efforts, or was it? Hehe!

As I was getting the Health-Check stuff out of the drawer, a combination of Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters failing, and an untimely short spell of Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley arrived. The thermometer and tablet-pods ended up on the floor! The stick thermometer would not work, I’m hoping it needs a new battery, as opposed to my having broken it all together. No longer works! Groggleknockers!

The HP readings were fine enough. I used the new thermometer to take the temperature, but it wasn’t having of it at all? The screen flashed, and a few indefinable odd dots flashed. Methinks I’ve now broken both of the thermometers? Globblegripes!

Made a brew of Extra strong Assam tea, and started the updating of this post. Oh, I got an email from Iceland!

And a long job it turned out to be, Nicodemus and Shirley seemed to have allied themselves, to ensure I have plenty of hassle, mistake-making, ever-correcting, and a frustrating time doing the blog! Grrr!

Off to get the ablutions done, with Iceland coming with my hastily placed order. (Morrisons I know had just delivered yesterday, but Morrisons did not have any egg mayonnaise, so I ordered some from Iceland), and the Amazon ‘bamboo diabetic socks’ are coming, I had to get the washing up done early. But it was too early to use the shower, the noise might disturb my neighbours. Off to the wet room poddled!

AblutionalisationingFor over Eighteens only X-rated Report

  • One tiny cut shaving, but a devil of a job to stop bleeding! Tsk!
  • A disappointing session this one was. It started with me hitting my left shoulder against the door frame as I entered the room! The left, not the right? A Great Start! 
  • Broke the blue toothbrush! That did Toothache Thomas a lot of good!
  • I’ve no idea how long it took me to find the pack of four I knew I had somewhere, but when I did find it, after going into two rooms in search, it was on the trolley on my left, on the shelf below the toothpaste! No idea how I missed it for so long! Grumbleconfusement!

By now, I’d spent such a long time in there, I was so late, I could use the shower now. So not all bad!

  • I was doing well, so nicely,  until I was cleaning my rear-quarters, and set off Harold’s Haemorrhoids bleeding! It reminded me that old American Noir film with blood in the shower, but I can’t remember the name of it, stabbed in the shower, oh, I’ll look it up later
  • I turned up the power on the shower, to wash away the blood away, but it kept coming. Oh, dearie me! 
  • So, I just kept spraying it down the drain at regular intervals. Bad, this! 
  • The good news is that I went through the whole long episode without dropping the shower-head once!
  • Did well in the freshening-up and medicating departments. The new Clobetasone cream was really useful in stopping the bleeding. It stung a bit, like! 
  • Getting dried without any problems, then getting dressed, as I was battling to get the PP’s on, over I went. All the fault of Shaking Shaun, and his inexpediently timed visit! Argh! 
  • I stayed down for a minute, to assess any damage I might have done to my Herculean-like, trim, muscled, young firm body.  (Ahem!)
  • Everything that had taken place during this mammoth ablution session paled into the ether. For after a look, sensing and a feel around, the only damage I could find was Arthur Itis’s left knee had been put out, and that snapped back as I rose from the floor, using the shower chair’s assistance. I was Mega-Superduper-Lucky there! A ginormous Smug-Mode grew!

Obviously, I was limping badly for a few minutes, but my spirits had grown, for some reason. Most likely by yours truly, having such good fortune? I was tickled-pink! And the legs and plates were looking so good! Well, apart from Arthur’s left patella.

Now, I was singing to myself as I went to the kitchen, and got the kettle on!

Got on the computer, and not long later, the intercom buzzed, it was the Iceland chap arriving. Naturally, when I pressed the top button, saw who it was, and pressed the bottom open-door button, the screen went black! Always some problem with this hard to hear, unreliable system! Tsk!

I told the chap about the intercom, not being awkward to use, unable to hear it, and it kept going blank when I try to let someone in. The chap said no-end of folks tell him the same. He obligingly left the bags in the doorway for me.

I took them through to the kitchenette, for sorting and checking, and found some errors had been made. Not the 18 medium eggs in place of six eggs, but in my rushing to get an order in so I could get the mayonnaise eggs, I’d got a few things misconstrued!

You see on the right, is a white bottle, which I to have ordered, and it was meant to be the same size as the pink, nearly empty one? I tried to work out why I should buy a £10 120 wash bottle of the Ylang 4.20 L Surf? The one I have is a 47 wash 1645ml one costing me £4.50, and that’s lasted me for months! Where do you start working out which the better value? Litres and Miliitres, too confusing for my arithmophobia and dyscalculia! I was grand with £.s.d, pints, fluid ounces and inches! Of course, since the stroke, there have been extra problems like this.

I got the flour for Jenny in a bag, and split the substitutes big box of eggs with her, and put a bag of white cobs in it. Then got the waste bags made up, and filled the three-wheeler with them. So much easier walking with the trolley, (but not on the buses too many moans about being in the way, Tsk!)

I phoned Jen to let her know I was going down with the flour. And set off to the rubbish chute with the bags. I couldn’t carry the food bag as well, so after depositing the waste in the chute, I nipped back to collect it. Then to the lift lobby.

The wait was not too long to get a lift, but while I was waiting, the Constructors only lift arrived, and a woman got out? Down the Jenny’s, had a little natter, Jen gave me monies for the flour, swapped cheerios, and back to the lifts.

And another lady got out of the constructors-only cage? These Covid-19 safety rulings are not being adhered to at all by some!

I wonder if the Coronavirus is for real, has sank-in yet? Ah, well, who am I? That’s a good question, I’ll try to find an answer later. Hehehe!

I got back inside the flat, and checked on the potatoes on the slow-cooker, and began to shell some peas. There I was, happy and contented a lark, the sunshine coming through the lethal new windows, and I basked in it for a few minutes, while I shelled the garden peas, dinking the mug of tasty Thompsons Punjabi tea, and dreaming of the betterer days, now gone.

I must have something about shelling peas, a distant memory of happier times perhaps? I certainly didn’t need to through all the painful experience of doing the fresh peas. Not with my supply of canned garden peas! Haha! My fearfully short moment of joy and contentment ended.

When I added some of the sugar, I’d bought from Morrisons into the saucepan. And realised I had not bought demerara, but caster sugar? Well, fancy that! Me, getting summat wrong! I bothered Jenny by ringing her up, and asked her if it was alright to use this different sugar? She explained that Castor, or Caster sugar, is standard sugar ground up more finely. I thanked her.

Then I asked myself a serious question; “How come you managed shops for Tesco and the Co-op for all those years, all that stocktaking, cash handling, and balancing the millions of trading stamps every Saturday night, and have actually forgotten what Caster sugar was?

My earlier elation dissipated a little further, as I knew the answer. I am losing it. Becoming affected or infected, with presenile dementia? The stroke didn’t help. Fast cometh to me, the old-timers disease, Alzheimer’s maybe? Nobody seems bothered, and I must be going potty because I’m not bothered either! Well, not at this moment I’m not.

What can one do? It’s obvious, put the kettle on again for a brew, back to Glengettie Gold this time. I spent a couple of minutes worth of nephelococcygia, and I spotted a helmeted face in the clouds. Tetched the camera to take a snap… Could I find the face again? Nope!

I set about emailing the link for yesterdays blog. (Better late than never. But I’ve had a busy day losing the plot!)

I got a Nottingham News Email, this was in it: Across Nottinghamshire and the city, the data shows varied rates across the seven local councils and Nottingham – with some regions registering increases and others seeing a drop in cases. The most notable area, is Bassetlaw, with the number of confirmed Covid-19 cases per 100,000 people more than doubling from 6.0 to 14.5 in the last seven days.

I got the oven on, it’s getting past my usual head-down time already!.

Aha, the intercom sounded off! It was the Amazon diabetic winter socks arriving.

Well, they look warm enough. The fight with the sock-glide could be a painful one, I didn’t expect them to be so thick?

Being the coward I am, and having managed without wearing socks for three months or more, I shall continue to abstain.

At least until it gets too cold for me, and I’ll have to recommence my daily, fearful, dangerous, shocking, hemerine struggle with the innocent-looking Sock Glide again!

Ah! The memories I have of my risky, injury ensuring, lethal morning tussles wit the glide!

The black-spotted fingers, the scraped knuckles, the blood flowing. The cursing, stubbing my toe on it, toppling over when using it, tearing the socks, and dropping the danged thing.

But it seems impervious to getting damaged. 

It just silently lays there on the shower chair, seemingly staring at me, not for want of company or feeling sad at not being used, oh, no!

It just can’t wait to get back to its meaning in life – To injure me as much as possible! Luckily, I have a good supply of pain-gel, a few Codien 60g, and liquid Morphine hidden in the medical cupboard, along with a tube of bruise-easer ointment, bandages and plasters at the ready, for when the Morning Altercations are forced to restart again!

Going bonkers, me? Mmm?

I am about to get the nosh sorted out now, five-hours later than planned originally. (I may give-up on making plans, they never come to fruition or work out right anyway! Tsk!)

I’ll carry on updating from this point, in the morning post.

Take care out there! May your foibles ferment with festivity, fun and financial gain!