Hello, what’s all this then?
Tuesday 10th November 2020
Kazakh: Сейсенбі, 10 қараша 2020
00:40hrs: Well, at least I woke up, but it was a tremendously disappointing event, it took me away from romancing, cuddling, and even betterer activities, in my memory prompting dream! I’ll say no more, then, other than perhaps, Cor!
In my still getting used to it being a dream, and not a real state, I rose from the £300, second-hand, c1968, fluctuant, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, rachitic, tatterdemalion, heavy, yet tottery, rickety recliner, in a robotic way, and made a bee-line for the wet-room automatically, the brain now freed of the frustrations of the dream, informed me en route that I needed a wee-wee. I don’t think that came out right? These erotic dreams don’t-half play havoc with, and leaves topsy-turviness in your thoughts!
As I got to the kitchen, to do the health checks, I felt a sudden surge of determination to get things done today. But I dropped the kettle in the sink, and the urge went away. Blungletads!
Sorted out the mess, and found the kettle still worked – it’s always worrying when a worryguts, hapless or ill-fated person like me gets good luck first thing in the day! It does not bode well!
I took, probably one of my worst ever photos of the morning view, and when I looked at it on the viewer, I was annoyed at myself, tutted, swore silently, proffered a word that questioned my parentage, and shut the window…
Trapping my wrist in the frame! My first thought was, ‘Well that serves you right!’. Which it did! And my EQ offered me some advice: Basically to be prepared for more Accifauxpas on the horizon! Oh, dear!
I got the kettle on, and did the Health Checks, starting with the Boot’s BP sphygmomanometer. The SYS was way too high, but lower than yesterday, which is of little comfort, but then again, I was built for comfort. Humph!
I used the new thermometer to take the temperature, after all, that’s what they were made for. Hehehe! A healthy reading came up, of 36.7° c. A lot better than it has been over the last few weeks. The batteries seem to be going down rather swiftly, though, Duracell in as well!
I got some waste bags made up, and put them with the ones I did yesterday and forgot to take to the chute. Well, fancy that!
Off to the computer and started my usual of late, jumping from one thing to another. It got all very confusing. It got even worse when SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) kicked off.
The notes I was making, were as bad as ever, and I can’t blame Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters for this, I write (badly) left-handed!
About three hours into computing and getting close to finishing the templates ready to start on the updating of the Monday blog, and a little itch on my neck needed itching. Boy did it sting when I had a little scratch at it!
I took this snap of the area while in the swivel chair, with the Nokia… No, the Nikon camera. Oddest looking marks I’ve seen in a long time. Why could I not feel the pain earlier? Had some alien or insect been nibbling at me?
I got the templates done, then I started to update the Monday post. All done, I sent the email links off. Did a Facebook catch-up, then the same with the WordPress REader section.
I decided it was breakfast time, so went to see what I had available in the kitchen. I ended up with Brown Bread thins with Marmite, two marmite cheese discs, a pickled egg, and some Frazzles. With a mug of Thompsons Punjana, I tucked into it, while perusing some YouTube car crash videos.
During which, the return of the itch, and this time it was bleeding a smidge? I decided to get the ablutions done, then after the shower, I could have a good look at things and get the medicating done. So, pots in the bowl, and off to the wet room.
- By the time I’d got the teeth done, no problems with this, I needed the Porcelain Throne. This time, the Battle twict Constipation Konrad and Trotsky Terence, was a 3-0 win for Konrad, things were back to how they were before the treatment and medications had started. A fat lot of good they did! The pain was chronic, back to misery again, and a fear of using the Throne, as well as the Sock-Glide (No chance! I just don’t wear socks now, too dangerous! All done and cleaned up, and on with the shaving. Ahem!
- The dropsies were only a handful, but the nicks and cut, five of them, one on the side of the head, one under the chin and two back of the neck, were Nicodemus’s delight! Humph!
- I noticed when I used this photo, the old skin cancer spot was looking a lot deeper black than usual. Surely it’s not coming back again? Globdangles!
- Dizzy Dennis visited while I was under the shower, I did a fair bit of wobbling at times, but no bangs or falls whatsoever. Many dropsies, that many times did I drop the newly opened shower gel bottle, by the time I’d finished, it was almost empty. Haha! Might as well get a laugh out of it. Hey-Ho!
- Then an amazing sight that I’d managed to miss completely until it came to towelling-off. It looked like the left ankle was coming out in support of the right one, with a new ankle-ulcer! But, neither of them was at or anywhere near the erupting stage. It’s been months since that happened. (I hope I haven’t tempted fate with saying that? Haha!)
- As I left the wet room, I did not his hit, or walk into the door, frame or handle!
- But I did but the slippers on the wrong feet, and so very nearly went arse-over-tit! The important bit is that I didn’t. Hahaha!
So lets recap; The new whatever it is on the neck. Trotsky Terence loses the battle with Constipation Konrad. I get a new bruise on the wrist. And BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) returns to give grief! I get a record number of cuts shaving. Mmm?
However, results of a Sherlock Holmesian Style Silver-Lining Search: I’ve had a leg dance, Dizzy Dennis attack, and tripped over in the kitchen – and not once did I end up on the floor! The slipper cock-up could have bad, but wasn’t! That’ll do me!
I got the kettle on and made a brew, then started to do some much-needed graphicalisationing on CorelDraw.
I was all settled at 12:45hrs, and listening for the intercom to go off, between the Morrison delivery time off between 13:00hrs to 14:00hrs. Nothing happened.
Just gone 14:30hrs, I found the secret telephone number to call them from Uncle Google. 0345 611 6111, and called them. All recorded message answers, in a clear female voice, said: “If you are waiting for a delivery, ‘Rest Assured’ we will contact you to tell you when it will be delivered. I rang off.
I have already received an email from them about the order. A bit of a fib there then, from them?
I’d already got the Chilli-Con-Carne in the saucepan, added some gravy, and was waiting for the beans to arrive to add to them.
So I turned it off.
So, it’s not only Sainsbury’s that hate me then, Morrisons as well now.
I needed the toilet, but dare not go in case the fodder arrives. That’ll do the bladder problem some good. Ay, Ay, Ay!
I got a Government letter that needs reading; six pages about not going out. High-Risk Status, and using a delivery service etc, for food.
Well, I tried mate! This is not a good state to be in, not knowing, but of course, as the recorded message said: “I can rest assured that Morrisons will contact me, and let me know when the food will be delivered”. Which they have already done by email, and that time is now an hour gone!
15:30hrs, Morrisons arrived. The young upbeat lady delivery-driveress, was well-stressed, but polite and friendly with it.
As she handed the bags and loose food to me, she explained that the freezer in her delivery van had gone down, and the poor thing had had a nightmare day.
(I felt for her, but couldn’t reach… (Joke, joke, joke! Hehehe!) I slipped her a can of Gin Lemon to cheer her up, and got the items into the kitchen.
Apart from being a much bigger order than the last Sainsbury one, the familiar crushed cakes and biscuits, stupid substitutions; the Citrus disinfectant that arrived at £3 – was Fig & Cedar (Fig & Cedar – oh, yes very Cirtrus that!) scented, smells like whiskey to me, horrible! No sausages. No brown bread thins. No chips (Freezer breakdown was the reason for them being late) Marmite crisp crushed, as were the shortbread crumbs (originally fingers). The mini cake rolls are now a mixture of flat and cubes rolls. At least I have three lemon yoghourts (it was a box of four, but one had burst open).
Plus, one of the carrier bags smelt beautiful. (That was the one with the split open bottle of lemon shower gel).
But the canned goods looked okay. Although one of the cans of Ghilli-Con-Carne had blown. I now had the Carnes in stock, red beans, baked beans and chopped tomatoes for adding to the chilli, all in stock, at least.
I put the goods away and got back to making the evening nosh.
When I first started prepping the Chilli, I anticipated the chips arriving, so I added extra gravy, but, of course, the chips did not arrive, so I had a thinner Chilli with tons of gravy to get through. But nae bother, with the added tomatoes and mild chilli powder, it went down a treat, a chipless treat, but still. Hahaha! I rated this one at 7.5/10.
Maybe, this might help Trotsky Terence to fight Constipation Konrad in the morning, for Top-Dog-Status on the Porcelain Throne? I hope so, it was Konrad who won the fight hands-down, today!
By the time I got the things in the bowl to soak, took the evening medications, and what turned out to be a rare wee-wee, I was all-in. Another late day (for me), and Sweet Morpheus was needed.
I settled and put the TV on, that often has a soporific effect and is usually guaranteed to get me nodding off. But not tonight, I found a Kitchen Nightmare programme just starting, and it was one I had not seen before and got into it, but no nodding offs during the breaks, just goes to show… but I’ve forgotten what it shows now. Tsk!
I stayed awake for the entire episode. (That’s a first, I think?) Sam’s Mediterranean Kabob Room. While I was searching for this photo of the restaurant, on Mr Google, I learnt that the place still failed and closed down.
I turned off the 1989-built TV, and rearranged my wobbly, rhinoceros-shaped body in the c1968 recliner for optimum falling-asleep, and drifting off into slumber. This was easily achieved, I believe I was dreaming again, but it’s all very vague.
A clunking noise woke me up later, and despite the fact that this usually prompts me to get up and search for the source, and to check everything is safe, alarms, anything falle over, this is the first time that I didn’t. I felt so tired and drained, “Oh, sod-it”, I thought, and went back to sleep! Hey-Ho!