Month: August 2020

TFZ’s at the TFZers Cool-It-Hut!

Sunday 2nd August 2020 

Maori: Rātapu 2 Akuhata 2020

07:00hrs: I did wake up a few times earlier, but each time, there was no way I wanted to or could get up. I felt as if I’d only just got to sleep, when in fact, I been asleep for hours? I was so tired, still! With no demands for a wee-wee, making it easier for this old chap to nod-off again. Different, worrying, but a great experience! A little guilt perhaps, helped me to go into action mode.

I was up, and admiring my magnificently muscled, firm, fit, young, six-packed body, and caught my balance, within minutes. Ahem!

As I was reaching for the four-pronged walking stick, when the demand for the Porcelain Throne arrived, with some urgency again. I hobbled carefully, but as swiftly as I dare, to the wet room. (To avoid any accidents or innards-controlled unexpected escapages). Arriving well in time!

There was a surprisingly long wait for the motion to begin. Plenty of time for me to access the crossword book, and fail to get a single clue solved. Humph!

The innards controlled evacuation began with a sudden bit of a rush, which caused a moment or two’s worth of Argh’s and wincing of the facial muscles (Hehehe!). Then lasted longer and slower than any evac. in months. I was worn out by the time it had finished! The Silver-lining were, only minuscule bleeding, not a messy affair, and the after-aroma was not too biliously pungent!

However, I lost a lot of time due to the cistern’s failure to clear the contents away again. Jugs of water, in between several flushes, had to be made. It’s still not all gone, I’ll have to keep returning and give it a flush every now and then, and hope for the best. What a palava!

I got the kettle on and took a couple of photographs from the unwanted, unliked, thick-framed, unable to get at for the disabled tenants to clean windows. The first one, of below, the Woodthorpe Court car park on Chestnut Walk. Noticing the red sports car had returned. (That should please Kentuckian, Billumski!)

Then I thought I saw bats flying around. After various failed attempts to catch whatever they (2) were, I gave up altogether. Hehe!

Then, taking the medications and doing the Health Checks. The sphygmomanometer figures were healthier today.

Made the brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, and to the computer, to make a start on this blog. I was about to start on it and remembered the WC flushing had to be checked on, so off to the wet room. One more flush, and it appears that the content had gone. But I know well, from the experiences of this mechanical-teaser, that it has a habit of regurgitating things, and when I go to utilise it again, I have to start the ‘Get-rid-of-it’ process again! So, I’ll recheck it again later on.

Finally, I got to start this blog off. And yet again, I had to hobble-off to the Porcelain Throne! A longer evacuation session this time. But I had some success with the crosswording, which was pleasing.

I had a wash, rinse, and teeth cleaning session while I was in there. And spotted just how bloodless the body was looking! Hogglesworthy!

As I was taking a photo through the balcony windows from the computer chair, I got a phone call from someone wanting to speak to Angie. I realised it must be for Angie and Roy from the top floor. Asked if she wanted me to take a message for them. The lady didn’t, apologised, and rang off.

I snapped the morning clouds in the sky (which I suppose is normal. Haha!).

Time to get Josie’s meal prepped. It was a bit of the struggle this Sunday, as Dizzy Dennis and Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley were both visiting me regularly. I pressed on, a slightly more complicated ‘Cheffing’ session, as well.

Skipjack Tuna flakes in brine, mixed with mayonnaise. Egg mayonnaise, gherkins, beetroot chunks with onion and balsamic vinegar, garden peas, tomatoes, surimi sticks, a bar of chocolate, an apple, and a limoncello dessert for her. Oh, and a can of pink gin & tonic. The fiddly prep work and the dropsies were trying. Yet, somehow or other, I got ita;; ready without a single bruising, cut, or any injuries! First-Class-mug Mode Engaged!

I wheeled it to her door, and we had a little chat, she gave me a packet of shortcake biscuits and again handed me the carrier back from last week. Carrier, Hah!, I must have at least 20 of them in the flat now, and she gives me one back! Hahaha! Anyway, she looked and sounded in fine fetal.

Well, I was up for working then, as Shirley and Dizzy Dennis eased off suddenly.

So I decided to sort out the waste bags, Which was a bigger job than I thought it would be. In the hallway, I ended-up stacking seven bags onto the three-wheeler-walking-trolley, a bit of a balancing act. But with me finding the unexpected smidge of confidence and a willingness to graft, there was no stopping me (Yet!) and I began to push the trolley out through the doorway.

I stopped myself when I realised I had not taken the bag for Jenny. Too heavy to add to the trolley, but it seemed an easy enough task to just carry it to the chute-room by hand.

And to my amazement, it went well. In the waste-chute area, things got a bit hairy. I’d purposely made up small bags so they would go down the chute easily enough, but one white bag did not want to have it. I didn’t want to force anything, so took a carrier bag from the basket and broke it up into two bags, and all with no finger-trapping dizzies or other ailments troubling me! This was all very disconcerting, unnatural! 

I left the room and got to the lift lobby. I even go an elevator down to Jenny’s floor, within a minute or so! Luck, good fortune? Makes me shudder!

I put the bag near the door, pressed the bell, and got back to the lift lobby.

The residents lift arrived sharpishly again, I got in the cage, and pressed the floor twelve-button. My mind wandered on all this lack of Accifauxs and Whoopsiedangleplops. The lift stopped, dragging my mind back to the current time, and as I was absentmindedly getting out of the lift, a chap waiting to get on, wittily quipped, “Wrong floor, Gerry!” with a broad grin on his face, and head shaking! He added, “Stick with it, you’ll get there, mate. Hope you’ve some water and food in your trolley!” Hahaha! The wit! The cage had gone down to the 4th floor. It then took me up to my level. I did feel a fool!

I got back in the apartment, and I discovered I’d left two small white bags of rubbish on the kitchen floor.  Tsk!

I got the stick and took the two bags to the waste-chute, and on the way out, Neuropathy Nigel had me walk straight into the door frame! Twas a sickening sound, bone hitting wood, I verbalised a few oaths, by then Shuddering- Shoulder-Shirley started to kick of! It was all I could do to walk back to the flat with so little control over the walking stick, and not tumble over! I got in the flat to the knock-knock sounds from Herbert above.

Now this sort of luck, I understand and expect. Much easier to cope with! Hahaha!

I checked the kitchen for safety, got a bottle of spring water, and cordial made up, took the medications with an extra pain-killer (the shoulder felt a bit raw).

I got on with updating this blog).

Took a look for the latest Corona Virus figures, this chart on the right I got from the Your Nottingham web site.

The mental fatigue came on, and I got my dinner sorted out and served up. Ate it, well, most of it, then washed the pots, got my humongous-bellied body into the £300, second-hand, none-working, uncomfortable, rickety-recliner. Put on the original Die Hard DVD, and fell-asleep about ten-minutes into the film. Tsk!

I was woken up by some banging and tap-tapping noises from above. And wrote some notes of the dream I’d been having, on the notepad.

I rose to have a wee-wee and took this shot of the wonderful sky.

Below on the bottom field, were three youths playing music, and seemingly a picnic of some sort. I could hear the squeaky, tinny-sounding music right up here in the flat, but when I closed the window, I couldn’t. I made a brew, of Glengettie, and consulted the note about the dream to write in here.

Got the computer on; disappointingly, much of my scribble was unreadable. Bits of the memory was still in my head, though.

• I was in what appeared to me, even in the dream, partly Draycott, Derby, and Leicester, or as if it was around the 1960s.
• A bus station, again a mixu=re of various bus stations I had used over the years. I wanted a number 42 bus to Derby, but had to settle for a 4X, got on and paid the fair, and the conductor came back to me and asked for me fair again – we argued, the bus stopped, and we came to an agreement that he would only charge me 5/-, not the 6/11d the fare should have been? 
• I fell asleep and woke up back at the original station.
• I got off of the bus, and saw someone I knew (Don’t know who), and followed him into a gigantic underground world of brick-sided passages, covered in soot.
• A bit vague here, the notes didn’t help. Mixed confused memories.
  
• I eventually found myself coming out of the giant cave, and found myself in the Derby Bus Station cafe. I was a child in body, but a pensioner in age? Why I can remember this, especially, I know not? I even have a photograph of the exact area on file? The doors in the centre are where I appeared from the preceding part of the dream.

As I was adding this to the Inchcock Today, the ‘Hum’ got louder and louder until it almost became unbearable? Kluggledanks!

I went in to get the ablutions done, to find no hot water, and found the tap running in the sink! Skullclogglebonks!

So, I got this post done as far as here and will continue the tale of woe on tomorrow’s blog.

TTFNski, folks!

Saturday 1st August 2020 

Xhosa: Ngomgqibelo Umhla Wokuqala Ku-Agasti Ka-2020

05:40hrs: I woke, I coughed, I passed wind, and clambered with an iota panic-stricken, out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, musty, decaying, tatterdemalion, heavy-yet-tottery, rickety recliner. Got hold of the four-pronged stick, tested Arthur Itis’s left knee-cap, it was still attached, and off I limped to the wet room.

I felt my balance was not yet settled, and still, I walked into the main room door frame, and the poor-old right shoulder suffered again! But, no point in my getting bothered, pain, and all that, I recovered and pressed on, still unsure if I would get to the Throne in time.

No problem with the timing. The evacuation was back to what had been normal lately. The innards-controlled flow started, then stopped – I picked up the crossword book automatically, and delved into the clues. What seemed like many minutes later (I’d got three clues solved! Hehe!), things began moving again, in a wailfully painful mode!

It’s not necessarily a bad thing, this stop-start stuff on the Porcelain Throne in a morning, you know! The Diabetes insipidus, Post-Micturition Pre & After-Dribbling were not a problem as it trickled and dripped, while I was seated, like a Little Tubby Lord Fauntleroy. (Haha!)

The only fretting coming from the session; was the amount of bleeding. It didn’t look anything like the usual vibrant red, as Harold’s Haemorrhoids leaks usually are?

I cleaned up and medicated things, and I made the way to the kitchen! Taking a snap as I went carefully through the doorway, thus, avoiding any more collisions. The upcoming sunshine from behind the flats lit up the far land-line.

I got the kettle on the boil and blow-me-down-with-a-feather-duster, I had to return to the wet room for another a wee-wee! Tsk!

I forbore from any PMD (Pre-Micturition-Dribble) because I’d made my way to the bowl as soon as I got a message from the bladder. Had I decided to finish making the mug of tea and then go for the wee-wee, I’m sure I would have had some embarrassment! The main-stream was surprisingly powerful and persistent. But the AMD still took longer to stop than the actual urinationalisticalising did!

Still, the pins, although looking bloodless, didn’t feel so painful this morning.  Slightly less bothersome. I wish I could say the same for my balance. Hey-ho!

It’s no wonder that I can’t get anything done! Marathon Porcelain Throne visits, now mega-long the PMD and AMD slowing things up even more! The tumbles; that can take ages to get back up from! Housework, what bit I can manage. Walking and banging into things! Shaking Shaun, Saccade-Sandra, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley. Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters, Diabet… oh, never mind, moaning’s not going to improve anything. Bit of a self-pitying-chunter, slipped in, there, Sorry! Naughty Inchcock!

I cleaned things up again and returned to the kitchen. Made a brew of Glengettie Gold tea, and did the Health Checks. Sorted out the puzzling three tablets of the same size in the dosage pots, thanks to Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, just up from the Lidl store, who failed on their promise not to put the Furesomide in the pots, but in a box in my monthly prescriptions.

But I bear no malice, hatred, disgust, revulsion, loathing, or desire for execrations towards the antisocial, Inchcock-Hating, Sneering, uncompassionate, superior-acting, uncaring, insensitive, heartless, obdurate, oblivious to damage they are doing,  the callous swine! Oh, no!

I’m not sure why, but I seem to be going almost into a depressional grip, minutes later I’ll be singing to myself, with hints of the Joys-of-Spring in the air, then back down in the pits. Mmm! Bonkersness, or Senility? Or both!

I got on the computer and really bamboozled myself again, just like last Saturday, I think. I was jumping from CorelDrawing, blogging, and back again repeatedly, forgetting what I had been on moments before. And getting annoyed with my self about it! An awful lot of effort, for little return. Schluberdubski!

I got around to creating a template for tomorrow’s post. Then, I went of to make a mug of Thompsons Punjana.

I took this shot of the houses in front of the building from the light & view-blocking, new kitchen window. Typically, by the time I’d got the camera out, the sunshine had withdrawn. Back to the computer, and it came out again!

So I popped into the balcony and took this photograph. As the sun rose later, it grew to what is now a lovely summers day.

As I was working on the keyboard, making decent progress for the first time, Nicodemus’ neurotransmitters ruined the enjoyment by their dying-off and coming back-on regularly!  Granglesbognessbuggerit!

So, I had to stop and went for yet another mug of tea, Extra-Strong Assam, this time.

I took these snaps on the right, to capture the almost perfect weather for the youngsters and those lucky to be adequately fit enough, have an amble in the bottom field. 

Who? Me? Jealous? No, never! Unglefrogwogglings!

The clouds in the sky were so different from yesterday, even prettier.

About to close the window, and I spotted some regular visitors, down in the field. I’ve seen the chap, he’s been out twice a day since Monday. Gathering blackberries (Rubus ursinus). He either has a taste for them or sells them on? Hahaha! And the Yap-Yap dogs were out, walking their owner. I could hear distinctive yapping, 12-floors up. I love to watch these dogs on their walk. So full of energy, madly shaking tail, and none-stop running and sniffing around, bless ’em!

Nicodemus was still playing up, so I went on the WordPress Reader section, some great photographs on there today. Then on Facebooking to catch up.

Dizzy Dennis and Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, along with Anne Gyna, have now joined forces to put an end to me doing very much. I’m going to see how I go making an early meal, take some pain-killers, and get settled in the chair.  Sod-it, Dizzy Denis is back too now!

I made the quotidian feast. It took me a long time, cause I made cheesy potatoes, and seemed to be forever washing up bits splashed and dropped, and applying Germolene to the many bits of my fingers I burnt, getting the baked mixture out of the oven, was the only bad singe, and that was on the overabundant belly, near the button. Hehe! Klutz!

I got down in the dang-wangled c1968 recliner to eat the meal and watched FA Cup Final on the box. Just before the kick-off, my EQ told me the score would be 2-1, unequivocally! And it was, but I thought it would be to Chelsea, but Arsenal won it. Three bookings, a sending off, and for the first time ever, a manager was booked in a Wembley Cup Final!

Then drifted off into the Land of Nod! I woke later, and Dizzy Dennis was back. (The Git!) I carefully made my way to get the ablutions done. And, very well, they went, too! The toothache was only the tiniest bit bothersome. The shaving had a few dropsies and only one nick. The showering, a few short visits from Dizzy Dennis, but no injuries, and one showerhead-dropping. One of the least harassing and most injury-free ablutions session for ages!

The medicationalisationing and freshening up went alright, a few dropsies, the Germolene tube, pain-gel tube (2), and the cap off-off the Cortisone cream. I have yet to find that!

Getting the PPs on, lost a bit of balance, and scraped my ankle on the corner of the floor cabinet.

I think I might have said something to the tune of, ‘Oh, how irritating, that was!’ Ahemski!

The Deep Vein Thrombosis lumps were protruding more than usual? The pins had a little more colour, though.

I took a photo of the evening skyling. Then I got the towel on the stand-up dryer, made a brew, and took the evening medications. Onto Computer Cameron, to update this post.

The earlier faster typing-pace was thwarted, by regular visits from Dizzy Dennis and Shaking Shaun. Grogglebotchwitches! Hours later, I sent this off to WordPress, turned off the computer, and crawled into the c1968 recliner. Still having Dizzy Dennis moments! Humph!

Adieu, Mon Amis!