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Thursday 17th December 2020
Welsh: Dydd Iau 17eg Rhagfyr 2020
00:15hrs: Yesterday’s short-lived, semi-confident, and spirit of a ‘Get-up-and-go’ nature, was replaced this morning, with a, well, how can I explain it? Erm… A sort of acquiescent, compliance, a type of passive acceptance of whatever would be thrown at me today? Certainly not any confidence, rather pliability… I’m sure I know the word I need, but it escapes me. Obviously, the concentration is not too good either.
With a mechanical-like, instinctual nature, I rose from the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly-beige-coloured, not-working, rickety recliner, caught my balance, had a wee-wee in the overnight bucket, went and washed the hands, and found myself in the kitchen, putting the kettle on, then back to the main room and started the Health Checks.
As I got the thermometer out first, I realised that the few things I had done so far, had all been carried out almost automatically, no thinking about what, how or why I was doing them. I pondered over why this should be. I could not muster the interest, and I soon carried on with the Health Checks.
The SYS was high again, I must tell the Doctor if this continues for a few more days.
I got on with creating the Wednesday Trip out to Nottingham, blog. That took me a good few hours, but I enjoyed making it, with my humorous brand of sarcasm to the fore in the comments. Hahaha! I got it finished and posted off to WordPress, Emailed the link, then started to update the Wednesday Inchcock Diary.
So far into it, and I realised the number of wee-wees I kept stopping to take? They continued for the rest of the day, too! Made a brew of Glengettie, then pressed on and got the Diary all completed. After several more hours, three more mugs of tea and countless wee-wees.
Sent the blog off, emailed the link. And I went on Facebooking catch-up. With all the photos to get into the albums, this also took hours to get done. But I just plodded on with it. I think I was beginning to enjoy it, and a smidge of contentment was creeping into my psyche.
Time to get the Ablutions done. Not so many dropsies today! The shave produced only two tiny nicks on the chin. The showering had a few dropsies and only one bang against the hand-rail. But the highly cushioned, expanse of blubber around the midriff cushioned it well, although a bruise is developing now.
The only real struggle and battle were with the Sock-Glide again. It wasn’t really worth the effort of using it, but it was too cold to go without any socks on, so, needs musted! Argleboggle!
I tried the old Morrisons PPs today. Gawd they are thin! Later I made a funny-touch-up on the photo of the legs, adding a superfluous fig leaf, as Tim Price suggested. Hehehe!
Thinking over the Morrison let-downs and lousy substitutes, made me think about fodder and what to have for dinner later. Far too early to, but, I opted, to have The baked bean and cheese, and a beef pasty, potatoes or chips, garden peas, and a few of the tomatoes I’ve got left. Of course, knowing me, I’ll change my mind.
Got the ablutions done with, dressed and medicated.
The new third-time worn, brown trousers that are grey, supplied by Amazon and the belt broke already! Oy, Oy, Oy! Surely there must be someone else who leads a calamitous, disaster-prone, unlucky, Whoopsiedangleplop- filled life like wot I do? Maybe not. Humph! It’d be nice to converse with a fellow sufferer.
Then I started the handwashing. Not that there was much to do, another woolly hat, and the socks from yesterday.
I made another brew of Glengettie, I seem to be letting the mugs get cold.
The drilling and tapping noises seem to be all around today. I can hear them like yesterday, in the wet room and kitchen. Now from directly above the computer room. I think maybe Herbert was back at making his train models. Of course, it doesn’t bother me at all. Not in the slightest.
Hello, the sun’s trying to come out. I’ll nip and take some photos of it.
I diverted when I got to the unwanted, thick-framed, impossible to get at to be washed, created by an age intolerant, misanthrope, architect, who designed them this way so he could laugh at us old folk as we fall off of step-ladders need to reach to clean the or see out and down to check if the fire brigade, had arrived yet. Hahaha! Anyroad, I spotted that someone was suffering from a White-Van-Fleet attack! Poor devils!
The sun was doing its best to burst forth. A few minutes later, it broke through, with only the odd break when the small clouds uncovered the planet.
I made an order from Iceland. They are delivering in the morning nice and early. I hope not to need another Sainsbury order. I’ll see what slots they have available for later.
Whoops, no slots available. That’s the end of that idea, then. Can’t be helped.
Still no call for the Porcelain Throne today, yet?
Worrying innit? I fear a concrete torpedo is being manufactured in the innards, and it will be reluctant to move on the next visit… Assuming there will be one eventually? Oh, woe is me!
I had a gander at the local YourArea email magazine I’ve signed up for, to see what the latest Coronavirus figures were for Nottingham. It was not encouraging, again after the Anti-Lockdown brigade, gang or bloblet of selfish personages had a march together with no masks on, and spreading the virus all over the place, we have an increase overall for the first increase in months, now, and we are being left in Tier Three restrictions!
Of to the Kitchenette to get the nosh arranged.
I took a shot of the sunshine having a last blast. The clouds were beautiful, close little puffers, and distant streaks.
I got the meal served up. It was not like I’d originally planned it to be. For various reasons, no tomatoes left, but I’ve got some coming from Iceland in the morning, providing they are not missing, or out of stock. I’ve run out as Garden peas as well, but I had some processed peas to use, (regrettably, they were horrible!) The planned parties of one cheese and onion, and a beef one, were delicious. The can of potatoes was passable, cause I added some soy sauce to flavour them up a twinge. Added some sauce to the processed peas as well, but that didn’t come out very well. Overall, a test rating of 7/10.
Got settled in the rickety recliner, in search of sleep. But no! Sweet Morpheus was denied me, by the Thought Storming that had a field day with me. What I didn’t worry about, feared, longed for, and was facilitating or regretting, went on for hours and hours.