Inchcock: Saturday 8th October 2022

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POLITICAL CARTOON
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05:00hrs: I stirred into ersatz life, belched, and the need for the Porcelain Throne was detected. So, out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, Harold Haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable from, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner, and hobbled to the wet room. Where GC hatthe was immediately utilised.
I felt the need to rush a bit to get seated… but was wrong! Things didn’t, and wouldn’t move for ages! The crossword puzzle was tried… then counting the cracks on the ceiling (48 today). Used the spyglass to read some of the labels on the medications and cleaners. And still, no movement! I went back to the crossword book, but my concentration was not good, and I didn’t get a single new solution; but, I found a spelling mistake.
Finally, after a marathon wait, things started progressing. Grindingly slowly, and painfully! were stinging, but not a drop of blood was found during the cleanup! Which cheered me up a smidgeon! I got nervous about what I did earlier in the kitchen, and the routine took over.

I went to check on the taps, heaters etc. and found nothing untoward. I did spot the morning view, though.
A got the Lumix out and took a few photographs of the scene on view.
The first (top) one was spoilt by my and the following shakes and trembles.

However, the next two came out shudder-free, despite a short visit from for a moment. She often follows the neurotransmitter’s performance.

I made a mug of Thompson’s Punjana tea, left it to brew, and had to nip back to the wet room for another wee-wee. I had such a massive leak after the main attraction that by the time I’d got cleaned and back to the brew, it had gone stone cold! I ditched the tea, washed the cup, and got a bottle of spring water instead.

Despite the much lower SYS at 146, the assessment chart still put me in a higher in the red-zone area?

Sam arrived. Had a little chinwag.

I went back to blogging.

Well, that was a nice break from , I’ve not heard a bang, clout or thud for over an hour… he’s back now, though.

I got myself in the right pickle again, with grammar errors, formatting cock-ups.. and with the accompaniment of bashing away at me. Grrr!

The regular Iceland Man arriveth! He popped the bags into the kitchenette for me; bless him. I insisted he take a thank you; he chose a can of Fanta orange. I soon started emptying the four bags. The small bananas were large ones. The three Bread thins were two and substituted with one of the two for a pound, cobs, but I got charged full price for not buying two, which I didn’t ask for in the first place. The flipping Iceland fiddle me every time! They were short of one oven bake long-life cobs, so I lost the offer price on those as well!

All of Richard’s stuff was correct, Tsk! Jealousy! He got all of his meat burgers! Still, he’s a good lad. I had to buy the imitation lamb burgers again. They still have no No-Bull brand burgers sack in stock. It doesn’t bother me, though; Oh! No! I’m not jealous!?  I got everything stored away. They made one slip-up, mind you. They had both jars of Passata sauce with herbs that were on offer if you bought two. Hehehe! I got the oven warming up for later to cook the seasoned with peppers chips later. Then, back to the computer… But!

I find that the distinguished-looking number-cruncher, smoke & mirrors operator, Con-man, who just has no idea how to get an Internet Service working anything-like reliably, and he still gets his $23.6 million salary, plus bonuses, shares in the company and expense account; Is so easy to hate!

Must concentrate on cooking now. Oh, I’ll just check to see if Amazon is still delivering today on the tracker. I’d estimate the ETA as about three or four hours. Amazon says by 21:00hrs now, not 22:30hrs. We’ll see!

Lumix back working… it beats me, but cheered me up. Took this shot of the evening view.

Made the meal, and a tasty looking one it was, too. But… looks can be deceiving. As was the case with this beautiful-looking plate of crap!
These chips were inedible! Co-op Salt & Pepper ready side meal. Unless you can cope with viciously flavoured capsicums and white pepper soaked into your chips, I’d give these a wide birth if I was you. Foul is the word I was looking for to describe these. Putrid and troat-burning, too!
I put this photo on the left of the cruel, tongue-burning aforementioned lethal suicide-inducing chips; As a Warning to anyone thinking of trying them.
Only diehard Pepperholics can cope with the red-hot taste of these.
The veg-pasties and tomatoes were alright, though. Bearing in mind that these are all I ate from the plate… Well, I did eat two chips… well, put them in my mouth and spat them out. The first one, , and it was so bad, I tried another, thinking I may have swallowed a dead dung beetle, and couldn’t believe how foul the first one tasted. Overall, a taste rating of 2.2/10. That was for the tomatoes and pastie.
I looked up why people are addicted to Chillies and got this: Chilli Peppers contain capsaicin, a natural chemical that sends a burning sensation from the nerve endings in the mouth to the brain. The body defends itself against this pain sensation by secreting endorphins, natural painkillers that cause a physical “rush” – a high that keeps us craving for more. It’s claimed to be a far better uplifter than the effects of cannabis & CBD, according to the ASM (American Monthly Scientist) magazine. Not for me; a can of chilli-con-carne I can just about cope with, but never again on chips! Indigestible, nasty unpalatable, unpleasant and horrible! I imagine my Cyber-Mate, Tim, would have devoured these with glee. He is a definite Pepperholic!

I got the unwanted meal into three bags and those into a black bag, sealed it up, and limped down to the waste chute and deposited it.
I did want it to burst open and get the caretakers high with the aroma or spill on them and burn through their overalls onto their flesh. Hehehe!

I tried again to go onto WordPress Reader, but it would not let me in again?

Sleep was again resistant to my pleas.