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06:15hrs: I leapt from the £300, second-hand shop bought nine years ago, c1966, discomfiting, alarmingly beige-coloured, crumb-containing, TV remote hiding, not working recliner. Threw off the catheter night bag and did 100-press-ups. Then 300 toe touches while I yodelled loudly.
A bit of shadowboxing and some torso turning. A couple of minutes of weightlifting… Then woke up for real
and prevented me from moving for a while. I grabbed the Pain Gel tube, and somehow managed to get up on my feet without tripping over the tubing, and lathered on where I could reach o the back, then took an extra Codeine Phosphate painkiller. It didn’t do much good.
Removed the night pouch, and I sat down again.
Boy was EQ right with his warning of ‘Pain to Come’ last afternoon.
The agony was too weak a word to describe it.

Struggled to get the thick slippers on.

Emptied the night bag, wrapped it and binned it in the appropriate bag.

Made a brew and waste bags up to the door.
Did the BP test while waiting for the kettle.
Then got the computer on.
After five minutes…

More followed! Tsk!

While the Internet was down, I tried to read the letter from Nuthall Hospital. But it was hard work with the spyglass. I asked a Carer to assist to make sure I got the time & date right. Put it on the calendar.

The Internet was back on again. Got on with updating yesterday’s not even started yet, blog. But…

While waiting for the Liberty-Global owned, Virgin Media to start again, I realised that it must be the demand on the system my Royalists wanted to see the Coronation? Or would that be right? Would it affect things?
I titivated the Carers stable a bit – and sod-it, – & were joined by all increased their agonies inflicted on me. I know full well that I should not take Ipobrufen, but the Paracetamols are not doing anything to ease the pain at all, so I took one. 

I must call and ask the Doctor if anything else is available. The sheer consistency of the three of them is grinding me down today. They are detritioning my resistance. I bet that EQ is reading this smugly after yesterday’s warning from him?

The Landline Flashed!
It was someone from DHL.
He informed me that they had been given the wrong area code, which is why the parcel was not delivered yesterday. I confirmed it with him. It will be arriving later today. After ringing off, I wondered how the food had been stored, cause there are some fresh foods ordered? Later a driver called me, couldn’t understand much of what he was saying, but gathered he needed instructions to the flats, Did my best.

Carer Rhamat, or was it? I think that was her name. To think, a year ago, I was almost proud of my memory of names. Not anymore!
While she was here, the DHL man arrived. Rahmat took the box from him and put it in the hallway for me. I said my farewells and forgot all about the box… the box I nearly tripped over and still didn’t empty it!

A vastness of a Memory-Blank came over me. A few hours later, I remembered the box in the hallway!
Set about sorting it out.
Got it opened and the things sorted…
This should see me through without an order next week.
Goulash etc., fit for a king!
But not Charles 3rd, me! Hehehe!.
There had been ice packs in the box. But with them coming a day late, they were now just bags of water. Got some meat for Sister Jane as a treat.

Back onto blogging…
ARRGH!

Carer Jo-Anne arrived, and I showed her whatever material it was that was in the box. We laughed as I said I could use it as a head scarf, and wrapped it around my head. She did laugh raucously (is that the right word?), and she took some photos of me. Hahaha!
This one she took with my camera.
We couldn’t work out what cloth it was. Used presumably to protect the food? The thing self-destructed, disintegrated later, and just fell apart – making a right mess of my dressing gown & carpet?

I shall have a bit of the vegetable bread loaf and potatoes for tonight’s meal, methinks.

Another Memory Blank, and the girl-ailments, after easing off a little, were back on full-throttle pain-wise.

I took this off of the TV earlier. I managed to watch about ten minutes of the performance. But found it a little sad in a way.
Diane, No-Sweat-Prince with a bad memory. The wonderful way in which Her Majesty visited the tenants of the Grenfell Tower Disaster!

Carer Chloe came (I’m pretty sure that name is right – but…).
I told her I’d taken a painkiller extra, so none for me tonight.
I do believe that the ailments are easing again? Or am I?

Fodder Making Time!

Just swede & carrot, with sea salt and a splash of vinegar.
Potatoes, vegetable loaf and the swede & carrots.
Two out-of-date cheap bread rolls.
And a pot of dessert.
All eaten up – and followed by…
Vegan ice-cream.
Overall Taste Rating: 7.8/10.

I put the computer back on, when I found some photos from this morning, that I swear were not on the SD card then, but they are now?
Such are the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodaemons, 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! Cataract Kathie, Neuropathy Pete and Doreen Dementia are the main culprits. There are others, of course!

The Missing Photos…
Just after midday, I think!
Front car park.
Pareidoliaist-time here. Can you see anything?

I took a final photo from the kitchenette window.

Nightie-Night All!