The effervescent, bubbly, good-natured Nottinghamian, 25-year-old, super-fit, Educator, Mountaineer, Professor of Neurotransmitterisational failure, and lover of oven-baked Leicester cheese potatoes; presents his latest dollop of poetical rubbish, for you!
Here we go…
I may be getting on for eighty, But I retain some childish juvenility, It’s one thing, in which I have the ability, I don’t need any guilt or justifiability, I’ve no confidence left, just vulnerability!
My ailments give me pain and irascibility, I’ve long lost interest in egocentricity, My body’s lost strength and elasticity, The legs have lost their endurability, The brain’s, now devoid of logicality!
Possibly, perhaps, partly old age, you see, Could be lack of fun, loneliness and frivolity, That’s made me somewhat grumpity, The Porcelain Throne? It’s solid or liquidity, No chance now, of any multi-functionality!
My once sharp mind, now full of banality, I catch the wrong bus into the City, I stutter now, so it’s hard to be witty, I feel I’ve become a nugacity, a nonentity, For falling asleep, I have a propensity!
No fighting spirit, and no ignitability I’m morose, sad, no shockability, For black periods, I’ve a susceptibility, Life no longer offers me any tangibility, But a big flabby-stomach, and gibbosity!
One thing that’s grown, is my gullibility, And my stomach, that’s an undeniability My hopes have gone, died, ostensibility, Now life has very little enjoyability, I sometimes wallow in self-pity, That’s when I’ll write, a silly ditty!
02:45hrs: My slumber was rudely disturbed, and I lay there for a few moments in a state of hypnagogia, trying to understand what had shaken me so violently into this state of semi-consciousness? Perhaps I was dreaming, although I have no memories of my doing so?
As I wriggled my over-amply-sized bellied torso to have a look around for signs of anything that may have fallen over and created a noise, Harold’s Haemorrhoids let me know they were still unhappy. Hehe!
Guilt dawned, as I spotted the many signs of naughty, nasty, nauseating, nocturnal-nibbling! (Insecure-Contrition-Mode-Assumed!) Then the need for a wee-wee arrived. I rose shonkily onto my feet, got Metal Mickey, and stepped a few yards to the OGPEB (Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Bucket). Boy, it had been well used! And what a wee-wee, of the HLSBS (Hosepipe-Like-Sharp-Blasting-Splashback) variety!
I needed to have a good wash and change the PP’s, so off to the wet room, and got this done. While doing so, I needed two more wee-wees! But they were so different, OSU (Orange-Sprinkly-Unpainful) type, and without any of the Post- Micturition Dribbling at all? I certainly get a variety in my urinating activities, Haha!
I got to the kitchen and put the kettle on, and had to urgently return to the wet room for Porcelain Throne activities. Or, rather, a lack of action. I’ve gone from two days of liquified rushes (6 on one day) to the Throne, back to this morning’s robust meatballs, bleeding, starting and stopping, and such pain with it. I felt exhausted afterwards. But the cleaning and medicating had to be done. Grunglebogwash!
Back to the kitchenette, made the mug of Glengettie tea and left it to cool (toothache!).
Today’s Health Checks were done. The BP sys was somewhat high again. I’ve mentioned this to the Vampire nurse. The temperature was 33.8°f. I told Warden Deana as well. Took the tablets and medicines, I didn’t take any extra painkillers, but no doubt that Toothache Thomas will force me to later on.
I made up a template for WordPress, then I got on with updating yesterday’s blog. The occasional interference from Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley made it difficult at times. I spent ages correcting things, Tsk! I eventually got it done, Pinterested some snaps from the post, emailed the links, and to the louder than ever ringing in my ears of the ‘Hum’, made a start on this page.
During the whole of the updating process, I had to have six-more wees! Each one of a tinkling, dribbling style. Some hurt, others not? It’s no surprise that I’m losing it, lately!
I made a brew of Glengettie Gold tea, and took a photo of the morning view, which was blue! When I opened the window, things got blown off of the ledge, such was the force of the wind. Despite this, the Horrible-Hum could still be heard, louder than it’s been for a few days.
This must mean something weather-wise. Or not!
I took a blind photo down towards the Chestnut Walk car park. A free space again?
I returned to Computer Cameron, and then I went on the WordPress reader, then Facebooking.
Aha, time to get the ablutions tended to. Stripped off for the session, and thought how well the legs and feet were looking. The ulcer looked as if it had moved again, but it can’t have, surely?
Cleaning the teeth was a painful job. I must ask Oberstürmbannfuhreress, Warden and Independent Living Coordinator, Desk-Top Dancer Deana to phone the dentist and opticians for me later on.
The shaving was a little bothersome, dropsies galore, and a few minor cuts.
The showering turned out a painful event this time. I caught my right-hand knuckle against the grab bar as I went over from a Dizzy Dennis bout. It’s not the wound that bothers me, that’s nothing, just a few scratches, but not being able to correct the fall, that’s bothered me a smidge.
Getting towelled-off, I caught the little finger of my right hand against the cabinet corner. I think the cartilage damage, caused by my osteoarthritis in the fingers (I wonder if there’s a name for this?) is getting worse as time passes. Hey-ho!
However, the medicationalisationing went better than yesterday, and no bleeding from Harold’s Haemorrhoids!
I made up the waste and recycling bags, loaded them on the three-wheeled-walker, and made my way to the chute room in the lift lobby.
I deposited the four small bags, and unfortunately clouted the same cartilage damaged finger knuckles again, on the iron lift-lid as I did so! I just may possibly have said something to the tune of “Oh, dear!” at the time. Ahem!
I poddled out of the room in reverse, there was no room to turn around in there since the upgrading work’s been done. Out with the large white bag and trolley to the elevator. Got the resident’s lift almost immediately, and down to the ground floor lift lobby, where I espied a new window cleaners list. I’m down on it, as the man promised, for an 09:00hrs cleaning on for the 3rd September. Then I spotted a hand-written note left. It appears that someone had earlier, torn up the lad’s latest at the time, list, into little pieces? A lady tenant gave whoever did the deed, some written verbals, and a good telling off. Good for her!
Outside the caretakers were sorting out some bins, and pleasantries were exchanged, and they took the bag off of me.
I began to make my way along Chestnut Drive to the ILC’s interrogation room, to ask for aid with the dentist and opticians.
I saw a slice of lemon on the new bricked sidewalk. Now, where did that come from, I thought. I hope that not like the cigarette butts, from a flat window?
I hobbled along to Winwood Court and spoke with the girls. Then realised I had not taken the letters with me from the dentist and opticians. I said I would return with them in the morning. Tsk! What a Ferdrayt I am!
On the way back to Woodthorpe Court, I took first, this photo on the right. I tried to capture the wonderful old tree, Windwood Court on the right and ahead, Woodthorpe Court. The shadows gave it an eerie appearance, I thought.
A few yards further on, and took another picture, to the right of this one, of the same two courts, with the link passage, no longer used, of course, thanks to the Coronavirus cocking everything up.
Still, I caught the beautiful clouds to the East, and shadowy two ends of the courts, Winwood Extra Care Court to the right.
A bit of a faux-pas of sorts at the lifts in Woodthorpe. I was the only person there (I thought!) and the contractor’s cage came down first, the resident’s lift was on the fifteenth floor. So when it came down, I leant in and sent it to some higher floor, then I pressed the call button again, and the tenant’s lift started to come down. I turned, and there were two contractors, giving me the puzzled eyes! I asked if they had been there all the time and they said yes, with a ‘Tut’. Apparently, they had spoken to me, but I’d not heard them. I did feel a fool!
I got back up to the flat, trolley in the corner, kettle on, and got some potatoes on the slow boil, and added the mushroom I didn’t eat last night.
I hope they will be alright? They should be, he says hopefully, Hehehe!
I did some updating on this post, and the tea had gone too cold. So, to get the kettle on to make a brew of Thompsons Punjana. Took the midday medications, and got the evening ones out, so I would see them later, and not forget to retake them! This reminds me, I have not been given the doses and readings for the Monday blood test yet? It’s not right, is it? Might I be taking too many or too few Warfarins and be at risk of bleeding to death or a blood clot? Still, I’m used to being ignored. Hahaha!
I took a photo down to the right from the balcony, of the end car park on Chestnut Walk.
I noticed that the kid’s playground was open again, so zoomed in and took my best effort at picturing the little blighters. It looked at first like there were a lot of the kiddywinks from a distance. But in fact, there weren’t many at all. Probably their day in court. Haha!
The clouds suddenly thickened as I took this shot to my left, showing a part-frontage of the beloved Woodthorpe Court building.
A mad hobble to the wet room, certain I was in need of a Porcelain Throne visitation. But, solid as a rock. Crossword book used, I whistled, sang to myself, and picked my nose. But nothing happened, not the vaguest sign on any movement. Bhlugh!
The rain cometh! Then, I got the evening’s nosh prepared, taking my time and concentrating, and made what I think was the tastiest meal I’ve managed in a long time. Sainsbury’s sweet small new potatoes, potato farls, tomatoes, mushrooms, Royale and plain surimi sticks, both of them were lip-smackingly flavoursome. (Gorgeous!), beetroot and carrot salad vinegarette salad. I sorted out the good from the mouldy seedless grapes, washed them and made a little pot of them, and a pot of lemon yoghourt. I started digested the nosh slowly, savouring each mouthful. A super-duper score of 8.8/10 for the Flavour-Rating!
Half-way through the dish of fodder, and the telephone rang and flashed. By the time I got to it, it had stopped!
Back to the meal, one more forkful and the intercom rang! A chap came up, I thought it was an Amazon delivery. The box looked like one, packed the same way, style. But I was not aware of any outstanding order from them? The bloke confirmed the address and dropped the box in through the door for me. I thanked him.
I got the box opened, and it was full of electrical fittings. I then spotted it was addressed to 72 Winchester Court, not Woodthorpe Court! Boulderclumps! I got the box closed and onto the three-wheeler-Guide, finding two letters on the floor as I went out with them. One from the Community Rehabilitation & falls & Service, about a Physiotherapy Therapy Assessment. (another mouthful, Hehe!) I’ve been referred again, and an appointment was made for me for Monday 7th September 2020, 09:00 > 16:00hrs. The other the long-awaited Warfarin Anticoagulation and Deep Vein Thrombosis Clinic, with the new Warfarin doses and INR test results. I’d been taking the wrong doses with no one contacting me.
The weather looked threatening again as I set out, leaving the meal, to take the box to Winchester Court.
As I got down and outside, the caretaker was packing some bins. He took the box from me, saying he would take the package to Winchester Court for me. That was nice of him.
I thanked him, and I went back up to the flat, got the trolley parked in the hallway, and had a go at eating the now cold meal again. I stripped off and started to tuck into the fodder. Then fell-asleep, it was much needed.
The door chimes rang out! I wrapped a quilt around my horrendously bulky and wobbly body, swore silently with frustration, and went to answer the door. I was Josie, who handed me a packet of two cakes, cherry-iced ones. Eurgh! She keeps forgetting what I can and can’t eat, and that I sleep early if I can. Bless her. I thanked her.
Back to the colder than ever food, and finished off the fodder. But still enjoyed it. Even the cold food, the potatoes, mushrooms and farls went down well.
After a tiring, messy day, and little sleep over the last few days, I fell asleep… The landline phone rang and flashed again! Once more, it stopped ringing before I could get to answer it. I was so annoyed, I only wanted to sleep. Please!
But it was not to be. Sadly the Thought-Storms started. I gave up, and got up and washed the olive green long-sleeved shirt. I got it done, wrung and hung on one of the new coathangers over the sink.
The eyes were drooping now, I got the pots washed, got a drink of orange juice and returned to the £30, second-hand, c1968, rickety recliner, in search of Sweet Morpheus. But I wasn’t successful. So, I put the TV on, and for once there was a programme on a murder documentary, that I thought would be worth watching on channel 66.