I bounded out of the recliner, did some skipping, touching-toes, and a few press-ups, and went onto the balcony for the hip hinges and Tai-Chee exercises. I yodelled as was worked the weights. I gave out a loud “Whoop!” as I made a perfect double-flip-over loop.
02:30hrs: Then I woke up, belched and got the taste of the cheesy potatoes I had last night come up my throat, and I took a swig of Tonic Water I’d flavoured with Roses lime juice – the two tastes did not go well together. But they blended together enough for me to get out of the £300, used, second-hand shop bought nine years ago, c1966, discomfiting, alarmingly Karki-beige coloured, crumb containing, TV remote hiding, not working recliner, on a mission to get myself a good string mug of tea, Glengettie perhaps, to rid my mouth and tongue of the terrible taste.
I caught my balance and was feeling in better shape than of late. Of course, that was corporeal.
I sat there on the Throne and had to force things along painfully. I had the hearing aids in, so heard a rare plop every now and then as another one of the pebble-sized products was pressured-free, and it was like this for ages!
What made it more frustrating was that I’d left the crossword book in the three-wheeled walker trolley from yesterday! The cracks in the wet room ceiling seem to have reduced? I could only see 21 today? I’m sure there were 34 yesterday?
It must have been a good ten minutes or more before the last of the dark brown hazelnut-shaped turds was pressured into evacuating! What a relief I felt! But not for long; as I got up to clean things, I felt poor
I had a farce with trying to put in the Chloramphenicol antibiotic eye drops. More went down the cheek, in the nose and mouth than ever got close to the
This could prove to be a mistake if Trotsky Terence makes a comeback on my next visit to the Porcelain Throne?
I took this shot of the car park below from the kitchenette window. It was drizzling with rain at the time, but I’m blown if I can see any in this rather decent picture? To the balcony…
I think there is a drain under the water, but obviously, it isn’t coping very well when we get a rainstorm. The people
What a great Carer Ricard is. As we got into the room, he produced a list in an envelope of all my medications and how much and when they are given. Worra, great chap! I thanked him profusely and pulled out the pink gins I got for him yesterday at Lidl’s. That was a marvellous thing to do for me; another worry over the trip to the hospital was now sorted! Merci Mon Ami, Richard!
I fear he was over-yawning again. But this didn’t stop us from having a little natter and laugh after he gave me the medications.
Back to the computer
The tomatoes were just grand and sweet flavoured, both yellow and red ones.
The Lidl Parmesan potatoes, let it down. They were so tasteless! But looked and smelt good? Taste: 6/10.
The lad Jozeph looked so weary and tired, he’s even caught the yawning bug from Richard – both hard-working Carers. It looked so odd when yawned with his facemask on. Hehehe!
I tried to cheer him up. He got the medications sorted. He even cleaned the Pentax measure-dose pot for me and returned it to the carer’s desk. Had to push him to select a can of pop in thanks. Walked to the door to lock it, and he took the waste bags to the shoot with him.
And I stayed there for hours. But it was an often broken sleep, interspersed with weird dreams. Short odd senseless ones and I woke up after each one. At least, it felt like I did, to lay there trying to fathom out what it was all about, then drift off and have another dream that was short and unfathomable to me. Repetition is the word needed here.
PART RECOLLECTIONS OF THE FIRST DREAM
I dreamt I was an auctioneer...
Folks were bidding to buy gunpowder?
But I knew it was only chowder flour?
Some as they ran to their helicopter…
Said, “Aha, we’ll blow up another tower!”
A policeman I.D.’d himself, a CID inspector…
He asked them to reconsider…
Cause there had no M.O.T. for their copter…
This dream couldn’t have been gimpier!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Evening all!

Nothing better to start the day than regurgitated cheesy potatoes with a rose lime tonic chaser. Did King Charles need anything? Too bad about the tasteless meal. It might go better belched with rose lime tonic. That was a gimpy dream.
Oh, the memory of the cocktail belch, Eugh!
I’m not sure I got to see the King in the dream… they put me a waiting room, all wood and leather, artwork and royal blue-covered luxury chairs.
Belched up with Roses lime tonic… I love it, Hehehe!
Cheers, Tim.