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!
Ablutionalisationing – For 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!