I can’t understand why my Odes have not yet made me famous in the rhyme and poet-master circles. All that effort, too!

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0605hrs: I rose with thanks for being allowed to get in five hours of undisturbed time with Sweet Morpheus. Passing wind belched and detached my weight-ladened stomached body from the c198 recliner, and off to the wet room, and the . Where I passed the first half-hour of waking. Trotsky Terence had been beaten into submission by Constipation Konrad.
Oh, the agony! I couldn’t even try to do the crossword this morning. (It can take one’s mind off of the suffering sometimes, but not today). Things eventually started moving… a little, then stopped! I counted the crack in the ceiling plaster… same as last time, 36. Now there’s a thought; How can not remember so many things but am almost certain I could remember a silly, pointless detail like that? Back to the pain coping… I had visions of the bloody mess I was going to find when… or if the evacuation is ever completed.
I started talking to the evacuation product (I know, daft as a brush!). My faith was failing. Then I started wot think of the most ridiculous things, like, why have I never been interested in lepidoptery? Who’d have believed I’d end up with Doreen Dementia? Me! The calm one, the organizer, the carer…
The torpedo started coming out, and it was beyond my powers to slow or stop[ it. The pain grew worse and fortuitously. so did the escapage rate, and the last three-quarters of the turd almost flew out with a sickening thud as it landed, blocking the porcelain! 
Ah, blessed relief! I thought it would never free itself. Now to check on any damage done in the procedure!
. After all, that grinding pain and the gigantic, gargantuan torpedo having been slowly, oh so slowly, forced through and out, Harold’s Haemorrhoids had barely been bleeding! A few thin streaks of the old haemoglobin on the toilet paper, that was all. There was even little stinging pain, either! How come? All a part of the mysteries of Winwood Heights, the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodemons, apparitions and other grotesqueries haunt the hallways and lobbies, searching for Inchcock, to create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare, worry and confuse me! I suppose!

I got the take, with confidence from somewhere, that the results would not be anywhere as near as scary as yesterday mornings. I just knew not to worry. My EQ, telling me?)
Fair enough, it was still high, but if I remember rightly, it was 36 points less than Tuesdays was.
The body temperature once again was as near to spot on that you wouldn’t notice the difference!

I lost a couple of hours of the morning altogether. I had been doing something as I found later I’d written things on the remember-pad, but it’s in double-Dutch! And the kettle was hot when I went in the kitchen, but I’d not made any tea? Thankfully, these Mind-Blanks don’t happen very often. But they do concern me and are on the list to ask the Doctor about. But can I get someone to call the surgery for me? No! The trouble is, I forget all about it minutes later, until the next instance.

Arrived in a bit of a rush, but he never rushes me, bless him. But it meant quick talking and my missing some comments. But the lad had had a word with Deana about the paperwork he took with him to study and left it with Deana. No point in me keeping it; I can’t read it. He said that Deana will try to call on me later. This is out of sequence, as many other comments will be, no doubt/ I got very Confusion Konrad this afternoon and evening. Deana called later to confirm the booking for the lift with Easy Link. 10:30hr pick-up, to be outside to be collected. Later on, a nice-sounding lady land-lined me to confirm as well. That was nice! ♥

The steam-train building Herbert from the flat above was in fine form all day. No long periods of disruption, I must say. Just the regular clumps and banging, metallic sounds intermingled with some mini-concertos of a tap-tapping nature. Oh, and a cappella: Without orchestral accompaniment.

I just came across this writing on the notepad from hours ago. Any help would be appreciated as to what the heck it was I was recording; thank you. The dashes are undecipherable words: “Delug— 90% temp —– — —- — hoen –stly, —- forced sa–ey. Temp—— 94!” I may find time to have another go at making something out of it. Tsk!

  Now, for the cock-up of the day! If they gave out medals for Mind-Blanks, Forgetting and Insanity, I’d be in line for a gold medal after this incident.
The intercom rang forth: Someone telling me that they had a delivery for me.
❶ But the release button, yet again, did not work to admit the chap. I tried a few times, then said I’ll come down to you.
❷ I had to get some trousers and shoes on, checked the intercom and could see the man still there, and rushed a little too much, and clouted Shuddering-Should-Shirley on the door frame! Agony again!
❸ Got down to the foyer, but no signs of anyone there.
❹ I assumed he had gotten on while I was faffing about to get down to him… Rushing again, I got the walking stick entangled in the lift elevator door. I now have a split-handled wooden walking stick.
❺ Got up to find the man looking around and bags near the flat door.
❺ The man departed, and I started to get the bags into the kitchen. Then it dawned on me when I saw the Co-op label on some foods – I don’t recall making a Co-op order at all. I’ve just had a Morrison one yesterday. And, a few days before that, an Iceland one? Mayhap I did this during my Mind Blank hours?
❻ Well, it had all the things that I might have ordered on the order. I must have made it, stupidly, cause there was not a thing I didn’t already have in stock on this delivery!
I’d even bought some bonkers-costly Mushroom Risotto.
More flipping chips and potatoes, too! I’d even got some more bottles of spring and tonic water!

Just as I was calming down after giving myself a verbal blasting for being so stupid… the intercom burst into like again.
It was another delivery, Amazon. And the Doctor thinks I do not have Dementia ‘properly’? I hope she gets it right when I snuff it, and she has to decide if I’m properly dead or not! Hehehe!
Depression came over me.
The chap had delivered the Lemon Sherbets disinfectants.
No problem with this one. I remember ordering these. I think! No, I did, definitely. Positively. Oh, dearie me!.

The temperature outside reached 92°f.
I gathered together all of the paperwork and reminder notes and what leaflets and letters had come in over the last few days, with the intention of perusing them to see which needed any assistance to read and understand.
.Which didn’t take me long to work out. Cause Cataract Cathy and Dementia Doreen made sure all of them needed some help. Some needed telephone calls; well, Deafness Duncan takes care of that.

Kicked off again. Tap-tapping, morse-code like this time. The stuck-up, toffee-nosed, self-important gentleman varied it for a minute or two; he decorated the tune with some clung-thuds. Kind of him. Ah, tap-tapping is back now.

Getting late now. Aha, ♫ Oh, Susan ♫ just sounded. It was evening who’d arrived. He seemed a smidgeon low to me. I might be wrong. I tried the jokes, my world-famous and light-hearted approach, but I couldn’t get a smile. So I offered the lad a bottle of shandy from the fridge. I had to make do with a half-hearted imitation smile. But that’ll do for me, I thang-you!

I’d like to know what’s making those noises above. They almost sound like he’s sat up there with a stick to keep tapping on the floor? I hope he’s not poorly.

Better get the ablutions done. I’ve already missed the first Diabetes lesson. I’ve already missed the first Diabetes lesson. I fear leaving it until morning again, with the transport also coming as mercifully, the top man, Nathanial, has told me he will stay behind to talk me through what I missed on the first course. Jolly decent of him, too!
State of the feet before getting the ablutions done here on the left. Off belatedly, to the wet room.
Three days of growth of the beard took some shifting. Only a few nicks. The teeth were painful to clean. Showering went okay, no knocks, falls, or Dizzy Dennis visits. Many many dropsies, mind you. Turned off the shower and dried off.
Yes, well… all were hurtful, to say the least. Germolene, Germoloid, and the worst of the lot… Little Inchies fungal lesion ointmentating! Arthur Itis and Cartilage Kathy were treated to some Phorpain rub.

I took an after-shower shot (Try saying that when you’ve had a few, Hehehe!) of the pins and plates.
Looking like they had been polished with Brasso or something of that ilk. Haha!

I settled in the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously, grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable of, not working, recliner. Put on a Dr Who DVD and was soon sleeping away like a baby – I wee’d myself overnight!

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