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It’s Saturday tomorrow.
I can say with sorrow,
Saturday could be my Alamo…
Cause my EQ tells me it’s so!
And he’s never wrong, you know!
Summat will crash, go wrong or blow!
I’ll be depressed or lose my mojo?
Collapse in a heap, like a ball of dough?
The chance of good luck – is zero!
I’ll take no chances, not go alfresco,
To avoid being hit by a VW Scirocco?.
I don’t know what it’ll be, though…
I may choke on a marshmallow?
King Charlie’s Coronation…
Costing a scaled-back $125 million.
For me, Saturday’ll hold no jollification,
But, I write with lallation…
I think I may be due for damnation.
But it could just be a misapprehension.
My mind’s on an obambulation!
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Less time than ever today. Tsk!My feet were well down this morning. Very little bloating
Particularly the toes – I could move them!

But the overnight …

The Carer told me was graded as a ‘Four’ on the NHS colour scale.
I’ve had worse, but still disappointing.

When it came to the first emptying of the day bag, things looked much better to me, shade-wise.
A 2.5 or 3, methinks.

Down came the rain.
Took this from the bottom of the kitchen window.

Time for a little tip…
.
When selecting a cooking spoon, to stir your boiling vegetables. It’s best not to pick one that has little hole in it to strain whatever.

The rain soon stopped, leaving me with a
Pareidolian’s Delight view of the clouds.
Can you see the same in the above snap?
The shoulder, ears, head, eyes, nose and open jaw
of a beast in the centre?
Marvellous!

The only call of the entire day to the .
As per usual, hauling the water into the non-working W.C.
water tank; and kicked off, and is still giving
jip, some 23hrs later! The promised attention of a Nottingham City Homes plumber that ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress, and Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana said, did not come to fruition. Then again, I’m not fully with things, so may have got the day wrong?

The landlines bust into action…

At last, communication from DHL regarding the order not arriving.
It seems that the wrong postcode was on the parcel. Confirmed the right one, and it will be delivered in the morning.

The majority of the afternoon was a complete Memory Blank. Yet I’d been working on the blog?

Finding these photos help trigger the memory a smidge…
Aha, the sun beginning its descent, got through some clouds.
Getting pretty now…
Moved to take a photo from another angle. I’m sure I recall seeing lots of items and figures in this last one at the time. But can’t see or remember what they were? No!

I took… (Well, thought I did) a photo of the meal I’d made.
I#m sure I recall taking it underneath the 60w light bulb, to avoid shadows – but yet once again, it was not on the SD card.
The same thing happened when I (though I did) took a photo of the urine colour. Then the finger bleeding. Then one of the fallen-over stacks of waste bags and mess it made on the kitchen floor.
Not one of these efforts made it to the SD Card!
It must be with the help of . Another way of passing the blame there? Hehe!

The Carer arrived, waking me up from a rare slumber and put the night pouch onto my day bag on for me. Think we had a natter about something, sure I enjoyed it, but, what is was about is just another of the mysteries of the Woodthorpe Court, with the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodaemonic apparitions, and other grotesqueries that haunt the hallways and lobbies, searching for Inchie; to curse with bad luck, create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare. worry and confuse me!

I went to the door with the Carer, to lock it in case the yobbos return and walk in again… have I told you about that night? No? I will!
At about 02:30hrs, I was hobbling in the dark to the wet room to utilise the . Obviously, I did not hear them coming in, but the light as they opened the door showed an outline of the youths who came in. Two lads, a very tall one, a shorter, plumper one and a girl who came in first. They saw me, must have been a shock for them; I was naked… They shouted something, then one of them sort of screeched, said a few words, and they legged it.
I reported this to the Management. Apparently, they had been seen by other residents too. Nothing happened. No one came for a description of the intruders. No one contacted me… give them time, though; it only happened about six months ago.
Where was I before I lost the plot there?

Oh, yes, as I got back I checked the taps and cooker in the kitchen, and got the Kodak to take some shots of the late evening view.

I did some pareidoliaising. Islands, countries on a black sea?
Tried to take a close up shot…
But it didn’t come out well.
But these made it to the SD card?

Had lost interest again. I kept putting the TV on and off, hoping that my semi-successful trick would nod me off during the commercial breaks. I did slip off a few times, but only for minutes at a time.
I recall getting up, carrying the night pouch in the bucket, and glancing at the one remaining working clock in the flat clock. The four wristwatches, wet room and kitchen clocks all have dead batteries… it was 03:10hrs. Anyway, I got to the , which was a waste of time; another change in the Command Line, Constipation Konrad was back in charge.

Eventually, after a good, but failed go at the crosswording, I returned to the c1966, £300 pound, second-hand charity-shop bought, crumb-containing, odour-retaining, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, nauseatingly beige coloured, non-working, virus-breeding recliner. En route to the front room, I gave myself a

With a minute of settling in the grotty antique chair…
Zzz’s

TTFNski!