Inchcocksi – Tuesday 1st September 2020: Haemorrorhoid problems. But, Hurrah! I got the fish vinegar delivered!

TFZers & Pets ♥

Tuesday 1st September 2020

Czech: Úterý 1 Září 2020

03:30hrs: Woke up, wanting a wee-wee, and a wee one, it was too! I fumbled to get my ever-growing stomached body from the £300, c1968, second-hand, nauseously beige-coloured, haemorrhoid damaging, rickety recliner, got Metal Mickey, and gingery wobbled my way to the wet room.

I leaned forward, holding on to the grab bars, and it must have taken me about three-minutes or more to clear the pathetically small amounts of tiny-trickling droplets that sprayed more over the surrounding area and myself than hit made it to the porcelain! (Phimosis-Plato). Another five minutes to clean, antisepticise, and change the PP’s. An excellent start to the day, this is!

I poddled to the kitchenette, and as I turned on the light, I could not help but see how the flipping anaemic-looking and ghostly legs and feet appeared. But at least the ankle ulcer had faded some more.

Took my temperature with the stick-thermometer, 34.3°c. Which is higher than it has been for a while, so things were looking up in that department. As I took a good swig of the weak, not-fit-for-the-job Peptac medicine, a sore throat revealed itself! Tsk!

I then got the sphygmomanometerisationing dealt with. The SYS was up again, but DIA and the pulse were down.

I’m not sure if this is good or not, but the 161 for the sys is definitely over the top, methinks.

The knees were looking normal, and almost pretty, though. Hehehe! The left leg seems to be hiding its Clopidogrel, thrombophlebitis, femoral, spider, tibial, and popliteal veins from view? (I’ve had a letter about them from the hospital, and thought I’d show off, here, Hahaha!) But the right leg is still showing some of his veins, lumps, and growths off? Most peculiar! 

I made a brew of Glengettie tea and off to the computer room. I spotted the fodder things from last night on the side chair, and took them into the kitchen and got them washed… but where were the fork, knife, and spoon I’d used? I made a lengthy and in-depth search for them. In all the many nooks and crannies, between the furniture, underneath, all without any success! Krankles!

Again, the mysterious wonders of Woodthorpe Court: The ghosts, hobgoblins, boll-weevils, aliens, gremlins, grotesqueries, urchins, 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 mission; ‘To destroy the sanity, confuse, and scare the hell out of Inchcock!’ I gave up the rummage around for the cutlery, with the hopeful, but untenable thought, “I’ll find them later!”

I put the mushrooms in the crock=pot and put them on a low setting.

Got the computer on and checked the incoming Emails. The daily local E-letter news update showed these figures of yesterday’s Corona Virus in Nottingham. Not good! New cases for the last week or so have been averaging three a day; now it’s 23! The figures in black lettering on another page confused me?

I went on the massive amount of comments on WordPress comments and answered them both. Haha! Onto the WordPress Reader section. Read and replied to some Emails. I made a start on updating the Monday post.

Which I was doing, when Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley kicked off. Within half-an-hour, the scapular joint was stingingly aching something rotten! Then she stopped suddenly, I was well-pleased with this. Then Anne Gyna had her bit of fun. Stabbing sharp variable pains all around the chest area, this lasted for a long time. Despite my taking an extra Statin tablet, and I had no spare Beta-blockers to use. My first ailments ‘bad patch’ of the day this was. So I can’t complain, really.

I got the maroon jacket soaking in the sink bowl to ease out the dirt while I was ablutionisationing.

I limped off to the wet-room and got the ablutions sorted out. So many dropsies I had no chance of keeping a record of how many. A couple of shaving nicks, both thanks to SSS. (Shuddering -Shoulder Shirley). But no real Whoopsiedangles, or Accifauxpas.

After drying off, my magnificent, manly, musculoskeletal mass of masculine body, firm, taut and muscular manhood, medicating and Brut spraying, I got the jacket thoroughly ‘Surf’ washed.

It took me ages to get it done, wrung and hung on the coathanger over the sink. Then I had to mop up the spilt overspilling on the kitchen floor and myself (Tsk”).

I gave myself a good crack on the head when getting down to access the escaped fluids. I took this photo, turned, and hit my right knee against the server trolley leg. Ah, well! I might have muttered something like. ‘Oh, bother’ to each accifauxpas. Haha!

I felt a sudden stinging from the rear-end and was sure it was emanating from dear old Harold’s Haemorrhoids. At first, I feared I might have used the wrong cream in the medicationalising earlier, so poddled back to the wet-room to investigate.

I cleaned, sanitised, and then wiped off whichever cream it was I’d used earlier and applied some Germoloid with the extender used. Which caught against the furuncles, and a new set of bleeding started! It didn’t half make me jump!

Back to the kitchen, made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, and took a snap of the morning view, with the bottom field’s grass in it, looking rather patchy?

The furuncles were really stinging, now!

I got the two big recycling bags made up, along with a couple of small black bags for the waste chute. Balanced them on the three-wheeled walker guide.

What a fool, they would not go through the front door! Hahaha! What a Schmuck! I rearranged the load and set off to the waste chute room.

No hassle going to the waste-chute and depositing the black bags down the shaft. Then to the lift lobby, and down to the ground floor. I’d forgot to take the camera with me. Tsk! No one about for a natter, I left the bags near the bin.

Back up to the flat, made a brew of Glengettie, and checked the Emails, went on the WordPress Reader section, Facebooking, ad then made a start on this post. I spent a long time sorting the photos out on the files.

Landline call, from the Morrison driver, who asked where the building was, as it’s his first day on the job or time he’s called here. I gave him instructions, and he soon arrived.

I got the carriers handed back to him, and took the delivered ones to the kitchenette.

I was tickled pink to see that all three bottles of the Fish Vinegar had arrived okay, and the milk roll bread. Oh, and the Irish potato-farls, I wish I’d ordered more of these, now. Tsk! I’d only ordered mousse to go in the freezer, I still struggled to make room in the freezer for them.

Got the fresh stuff into the fridge that was fullish now as well.

The Piccolo tomatoes looked a bit battered and not fully ripened, but later, when I ate them, they were fine tastewise.

I got on with the podding of some peas, with the customary losing of many of them as they shot off in all directions. I lost an awful lot of them, and at least eight had hidden themselves away somewhere out of sight! But I did find a single ‘gone-hard’ pea I’d lost last week while searching. Hahaha!

I opened the fridge door, to put the remainder of the pod peas in, and the new giant pot of Yeo lemon mousse shot out from the inside of the door, and it made one hell of a mess as it burst open. Spraying the carpet, floor, fridge, wall heater, serving trolley, and my feet, legs, and belly, with the yoghourt! Grobbleknangles!  Another cleaning up session required. Phumft!

I got the meal prepared. I’d decided, as I was so tired and feeling a bit weak and drained suddenly, this was an opportunity to start on my dieting. (Also, I’d forgotten to order any fresh potatoes, Grumph!) So, just two farls, fresh garden peas, fish sticks, tomatoes, beetroot, and two little buttered milk roll slices, and a small pot of mousse was all I served up! Willpower, you see! (Ahem)

I got the pots washed, a wee-wee, and got down to settle in the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, not-working, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, tatterdemalion, heavy, yet tottery, rickety recliner. And Sweet Morpheus arrived within minutes. I think I was dreaming of sleeping?

The landline burst into life and flashed away and woke me. (Sob!) It was the gorgeous Vampire Nurse, telling me she would be calling tomorrow morning, twixt 11:00>13:00hrs! I thanked Hristina, made a note on the pad, and got down in the recliner again.

It took a good while before I could get back to sleep. So bad, I turned on the TV, that did the trick. At the first set of commercials, I drifted off into dreamland. Ah, nice!

Fungleboggles! Gruffungrobblings! and Skulldrapbonks! I woke up after an hour or so, in need of the Porcelain Throne! Argh! I could cry at times!

I fumbled my way out of the recliner, caught my balance, and off with Metal Mickey to the wet-room. This evacuation was rock-solid, resistant and agonising! The motion began, of its own accord, and within seconds had firmly frozen where it was. I don’t know how long it was I sat there in pain awaiting reactivation. My efforts to encourage things only brought more discomfort. The pen I was using to do the crossword with, actually ran dry of ink!

By the time it was finished with, the lower rear department was sorer than I has been in years! The furuncles and Harolds Haemorrhoids were bleeding, and believe me, it took ages to stop the flow. I’ve never used so much Germoloid in one go before! I even took an extra Co-codamol.

Back in the recliner, impossible to get into a comfortable position, sleep was not coming. I turned back on the TV.

Yet there was no nodding off, and I could sense the bleeding had started again. But was so tired, I relied on the PPs to do their job, and eventually, Sweet Morpheus returned… Worran ‘orrible night!

Sorry if this sounds a little common and crude, but life is at times.