TODAY’s POLITICAL FUN– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
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01:30hrs: I rose after a good three hours of uninterrupted sleep. And with yesterday’s Blood Pressure being the lowest ever, I dismounted the £300 second-hand, musty, Haemorrhoid Harold Testing, cringingly beige, crumb-covered, not-working, rickety recliner, and: ! Could I find the Boot’s Sphygmomanometer? Well, not for a while, no!
Confusion reigned in my ‘Under the control of Dementia Doreen’ brain. I have always put it at the back of the carer’s table for months. And never misplaced it before. I assume that with all the excitement of yesterday’s ‘Lowest-Ever recorded Blood Pressure, I may have lost concentration and placed it in a different place?
I went on a controlled Sherlock Holmesian search. Starting in this room, where it has to be, I thought.
However, a ten-minute hunt around failed to produce the errant recorder.
It must be in the kitchen, then? So off to the kitchenette and checked cupboards, drawers, and Good Heavens; I even looked in the oven, fridge and freezer. No luck!
Ah, thought I, remembering I went to the clothes racks in the junk room abbot that time. So I delved into the Steptoe & Son like spare room for a ferret om there. I even thought I’d have a look for the missing trouser belts at the same time.
I did find two belts. Which almost brought on a Smug-Mode, but then , when I found that both of the belts were now too small to go around my ever-ballooning waistline. I knew I had two belts that fitted last week and seem to think I hung them over the clothes racks, again no joy.
I continued searching for the belts, confident that I had left them in that room, no question in my warped little mind. (At the time) Half an hour later, I gave up and went to make a brew of Glengettie tea.

I tried to take a photograph of the morning view from the kitchen window, using the 15-second taking nighttime mode. But it came out like the one last week, fuzzy!
I shouldn’t bother, really, not with all the twitches, shakes and uncontrollable jerking of hands and legs. I’ll not try again. So, I moved the dial into SCN and chose the night option on that; Ah! much better this one was. I was pretty pleased with this one, but of course, the cataract can be misleading.
Put a splash of milk in the brew and hobbled back to the computer.
Asked myself, “Now, where was I up to?” I’d forgotten abbot the search for the missing Boot’s Sphygmomanometer. Huh! Getting side-tracked, losing the plot and simply forgetting things, I seem to have got into an art form nowadays! Well, the only places not searched were the hallway, three-wheeler-walker trolley, and the wet room. Back into Sherlock Holmesian Mode, I limped to the Hallway to investigate. Not on the waste bag box, not in the trolley basket. I was pretty confident as I went into the wet room… ‘Thud’; I clouted the shoulder on the doorframe again! Which, of course, immediately and painfully set off ,  I dropped  Metal Micky, and when I bent to retrieve the stick, kicked off! I thought about becoming a gibbering wreck at this point, as my previously above-average contentment level sank towards a developing depression! Or could I just cry and carry on?

I rubbed some Phorpain Gel into the shoulder and looked around for absconded, escaped Boot’s Sphygmomanometer.
There was the machine with the razor and tackle with the toothpaste? I had to ask myself why? How? But I didn’t get an answer. I know that I missed shaving yesterday, and I am already concerned about doing so today due to the risk of cuts on the extra stubble. So how come I left the Boot’s BP unit in the wet room? I can only put it down to Dementia Doreen! That’s the Dementia that my Doctor refuses to recognise that I’ve got. Can anyone help? I sank even lower now! I should be pleased I’ve found the flipping Boot’s Sphygmomanometer, but things ain’t good. So, down in the mouth, I did the

Ah, yesterday’s result must have been a glitch. Back up in the red again today. In the Hypertension Red-1.
SYS 142, DIA 69, Pulse 88, and the body temperature at 36.7°f.
If you’d like to look at the Returns graph for the last seven days, the temperature has gone up by 0.1 for four days in a row now. Well, it’s consistent, if nowt else. Hehehe! Will tomorrow bring a reading of 36.8°f?

I got the computer on and got the call to the . That’s something else that’s variable, different in nature every sitting. Haha!

And it was today. Meatballs, no Torpedo, not almost liquid, and a pale Karki in colour. There was a heck of stink with it this morning. And talk about bleeding; I’ve not lost that much in a session for ages. A smidge worrying cause it wasn’t the deep red one usually gets and associates with, Not that there is any point in telling my doctor. If I walked into her surgery with my head under my arm, they’d make an appointment for three weeks’ time. Then it would be cancelled and rearranged for a fortnight later. Then I’d forget about it… Worra life!
Look at the Severe Frailty Assessment. I had one and failed it badly, and the doctor refused to accept the results. Because I didn’t have my hearing aids in. So made another appointment for six weeks later. My Bad, I missed it. They made another in three weeks’ time! Let me know two weeks later that it is being moved to two weeks later than planned. Last Saturday, actually. The Link transport phoned me on Friday and said we are picking you up at 0755hrs tomorrow, which surprised me; I wasn’t sure they worked on a Saturday. Come Saturday, no minibus arrived. The Doctors surgery phoned me about missing the appointment, and I got in a right muddle, and still am not sure if they made another appointment for me or not.

Minutes later this morning, another lady from Link called me to say my lift will be here ‘this morning’, at 08:00hrs? I explained about Saturday, and as told: “Yes, we don’t work on weekends” I asked politely; why I was told the lift would be with me, in the morning, on Friday? Not that I needed telling, well, I wasn’t told. A simple mistake by the caller with the days. But anguish and worry for me. Now in the bad books with of all places, the Doctors surgery again! Desperation makes me waffle; what can I do to get any help? The day was getting really light now. I went to the kitchenette and took the top photograph here of the cloudy sky.

Then this one downwards to the car park on Chestnut Way in front of Woodthorpe Court.
Then this one from the balcony. Straight ahead, I caught a piece of balcony plastic in this one.

I don’t know why I said that?
Then to the end window, which I failed to open, trapping my fingers trying to do so.
I surrendered and took the shot through the glass. It was at the far end of the car park.

Where parking on the no parking chevrons has become such a very popular activity amongst the tenants of these flats.
Arrived. I’d been looking forward to seeing him today as well. But disgustingly, all I did was moan and grumble about my plight at first. As soon as saw how tired out he was… the repeated yawns and the vacant look on his face gave me a clue. He was so worn out, poor devil. I don’t think he was listening anyway. Don’t blame him either, even though I’m sick a tired of my whinging! He got his treats; all the lad wanted was to get home and try and get some sleep. Wished him good luck as he departed.

I got on with updating the Sunday blog. I may have waffled on that too. sorry if I did the graphics needed, then made a start proper on this blog.

But concentrating was hard, as was at it again with his mechanical concertos. The noise was varied for a minute or two, decorated the tune with some clunk thuds. He serenaded me with some delightful whining noises, then back to the tap-tapping, with the odd thud thrown in.

I was struggling, so IO went on the WordPress reader to see what the bloggers had blogged. Ha-ha!

Cripes! Look at the time; where did it go?
Better get some food prepared!

Sadly, I used the last of the chips and no-fish fish sticks in this meal. By gum, those chips were good! I’d better get a JS order made up for next week – Oh, no, I won’t – Oh, yes, you will. Hello, is that Alto-Ego?
I decided not to; I’ve got instant mash I can use up.

+I put the tray on the Carer’s desk, and just . It was a wonderful experience… but ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chimed from the door chime, and the Came in. I think it was Carer Jodie, but I was half asleep still. We might have had a little natter, but she had to go as she was running late. Went with there to the door and locked it was she left with her treats.

I got the pots washed, and doing this reminded me that I’d not yet done my , Tsk! So I did them.
So tired and blurry-eyed, yet things went well. Teeth, a very little bleeding, shaving, only three teeny-weeny nicks. And the showering was dizzy-free, with just one clunk on the powerbox with my forehead. Pretty chuffed with that!

Got into the night attire, and decided to do some work on this blog… But…

It used to amaze me how with Fries making such a pathetic mess of running Virgin Media, he go an increase in salary and bonuses. (see left graphic) He destroyed the good reputation of Virgin, which now gets an overall rating of 2 @ 5 on Trust Pilot!
But I’ve realised that this must be why: Mr Fries Artful deception, flimflam, hokum, prestidigitation, illusion, hocus-pocus, and mumbo-jumbo skills distort or blur any facts and figures. The man is a genius! That, or the top boss at Liberty-Global, must be extremely gullible?

So, I got down and had a long, losing battle with to get to sleep! Humph!