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Well, shiver me timbers! I woke and edged to the side of the bed to pull up the nocturnal catheter tube, and I was gobsmacked, even disconcerted to see how little urine was in the catheter bag. Just look at it. And it was so light in colour. What’s happened here, I asked myself. I half expected to find there had been a leak somewhere along the , and I felt around my body and the bed for any signs of wetness! But found none.
Mayhap, I mused, the tube had been blocked or twisted, although nothing could be found to indicate this.
Another of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morgana that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind, which is already rapidly losing its marbles? A .
I tugged and flipped at the tubing in anticipation of the flow restarting. But no. It wrangled me a bit, not knowing what had caused this strike by the bladder and my failure to get the urine moving again. I rechecked the bedding, and the PPs (Protection Pants) were all dry—except for a bit of bleeding, from poor as expected every morning.
I stood and threw the pouch, with the tube still attached, across the room, thinking that might free whatever the blockage was. Nope! There was no flow whatsoever at this stage.
I gave up and removed the night attachment tube. The day bag on my leg seemed to be completely empty.
Then my stomach grunted, not the usual rumbling and grumbling, and I hobbled off to the wet room.
Constipation Conrad was still in charge, and starting the motion was a long job. I gave the crossword a few minutes while waiting for a response from the innards. When things did move, the pain was so bad that I decided it best to keep pushing through the pain barrier and amazingly cleared the mammoth, concrete toilet-blocking torpedo. It was a thud more than a splash when it finally exited and landed. I stayed sitting there to recover for a moment and thought, “Well, that’s a good start to the day. I couldn’t pee through the catheter, couldn’t pass through the rear end, and I could already feel the blood pouring from poor . And now, I didn’t need to look. I had the job of breaking up the blocking of the WC brick torpedo so it would flush away! I did this with one of the bamboo canes I keep handy for the job. I must get some more of them in.
Have you ever had one of those mornings when you wish you had not woken up? I could write a book about it, but no one would believe it! But it wasn’t over yet.
I decided to finish the ablutions while I was already in the wet room. As I turned to fetch the towels from the airer in the hallway and went through the door, I went close to having a tumble. The day pouch was suddenly so full that it looked like an old football bladder; it was almost solid! I caught it on the door edge as I walked, well, hobbled out. The recoil would and should have had me over, but the hallway wall was handily placed for me to bounce into. So, it wasn’t all bad. Hehe!
I emptied it into the plastic measuring jug, and there were a few grams less than 1000 in it! I’ll be nervous going to bed tonight.

As I was about to take this picture of the beautiful tree copse, Carer Christopher came in and pointed out that I’d still got shaving foam all over my neck, stomach, and belly button. Haha! He also noticed that my red rash had come back under my arms and man breasts. He put some cream on them for me. He also helped me into the dressing gown. He’s a good lad some days. Har-har!
He got the diabetic socks on my legs. Issued the medications and wiped the foam off of me. Tsk!  Then helped me into the new slippers. Bless him.
I took these snaps and felt terrible for the poor birds and the chicks in their nests. I took two shots to show how the vicious winds were blasting the trees. With only a beak, the poor things tire away, building a nest to lay their eggs in. The chicks are born, and along comes the wind to kill them. A bit like Putin? At long last, I updated yesterday’s blog. I had this idea for an extra ode, and I couldn’t stop myself from making it. It took me ages.
Then, we had another fire alarm, which made me jump a little. The new baby monitor, which Jennie suggested and Warden Dean fitted for me, made the alarm sound as if it was one for the flat. It was so loud. Great!
I’m so glad that Jennie told me about them. And with Deana & Julie fitting it up, it made me feel right and cared for. ♥

The wind was still howling. I took these snaps from the kitchenette window of the clouds, which were also moving at a fair rate of knots. The first one was shot to the left, and the second photo was taken to the right of the flats.   I pressed on with the blogging.

There I was, making a Co-op food order. I am not bothering anyone, all alone, and for once today, coming out of the bad start, and even singing a Frankie Vaughan song, ‘Green Door’… and .
And suddenly shook me so much I dropped the computer mousse, I mean, mouse! And she was reluctant to stop. The usual trick of not touching anything, animal, mineral or vegetable, for a few minutes failed to work.
I was well-pleased when she gave up; I thought the shoulder socket might get torn out; it was that bad. I recall thinking she was making her bid for the ‘WAT’ (Worst Ailment Today)
award? I smiled at my wit and pressed on to update the blog. Anyway, she had little chance, with the Boris’s farcicalness this morning.
A possible change of heart… She only kicked off again when I was getting the kettle on to make a brew. The only thing I got the kettle on was the kitchen floor, watering my dressing gown, left sock, foot and new slipper in the process. 
Naturally, being the calm, collected, pain-resistant, patient young man I am, I just laughed it off.
For 15 minutes this time. Humph!

Another challenger for the ‘WAT’ (Worst Ailment Today) in the form of kicked off. I just lost two hours, during which I made a mess of the blog, but could see as I’d done any CorelDraw work, the tea had gone cold, and the Carer arrived to change my socks, dry my foot, and had a laugh at my bad luck. No problem with that; I love getting a laugh from anyone as often as possible. But opportunities are rare.

The food arrived… Carer Chris brought it up for me.
I was just taking some more skyshots at the time.
I sorted the food out after Chris had gone.
I dropped one of the bags on my foot. Obviously, it caught the ingrowing toenail… I’ve got four others it could have landed on. But, Oh, no!
The Dirty Fries will be cooked shortly. They had no fresh pod peas in stock. SWINES!
The computers had less use today.
I went of to get the cooking started. Hopefully, without any burnt fingers or hands, well, any part of my torso. Not after this morning’s farcicalnesses.
Can you see the things in this shot taken before I started cooking? The face? The Creature? The clouds entertain me; no one else does. Hehehe!

I prepped and served the food on the tray, then went to the £300 second-hand shop bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner, to feast.
Oh, dearie me. Tasteless! So disappointing! The added pickled egg and the milk roll bread were okay. Humph!

Carer Christopher came for his last call of the day. We took off the diabetic socks, decided I didn’t need any painkillers, and then put on the nocturnal pouch to the catheter for me.
Then he moved the carer’s chair, trapping my foot underneath the wheel cap. Hehehe! How I howled! But we ended up having a laugh about it. I told him I’d put; “Carer attacks elderly old-fart customer with a metal chair!” in the blog. Haha!
I gave him some treats in thanks, and off home he trotted.
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ODE TO MY SEARCH FOR PEACE

🎵 There’ll Be Peace In The Valley…🎵
In the Valley for me…
But of course, there won’t be!
I’d hoped retirement would run peacefully,
Old age would run contently, amicably,
The body, for years, that sustained Inchy,
And the brain that coped so admirably,
Failed, decayed, because, abominably… 
Dementia Doreen infiltrated, sadly,
Now, I live absurdly absentmindedly,
Tormentingly, teasingly, aggravatingly…
Bladder cancer stops the flow of pee,
Now, a catheter hangs from my knee,
Glaucoma Gladys, so it’s hard to see,
More complex to change each hearing aid battery,
The fingers have gone all tremblingly,
Cartilages give way every single day,
I quickly forget what I was going to say,
Whoopsiedangleplops, more than occasionally,
Seizures and mind blanks frequently,
Depressions that come and go abruptly,
I respond uncaringly or maladroitly,
Very often, I live with morbidity,
Nothing changes, and then I’m happy suddenly.
A blessed feeling, but not frequently…
I’m getting through, albeit wretchedly,
The downs seem to last eternally,
The ups, for a millidegree,
But others are so worse off than me,
This damned sensation of feeling guilty!
One thing I’ve not lost is my curiosity,
But I’ve lost my skills of investigative capacity!
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TTFN Keep Safe