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It was another night of waking up with a jerk and jump. Each time I spurted awake, I could hear the noise from Goose Fair, which is over a mile away from the flats. It wasn’t until I woke again at 02:00hrs that the cacophony began to die down. But the jumping awake kept on for a while longer. 
04:30hrs I stirred for the umpteenth time, and I decided to give up and get up. Humph! So I got up.
I removed the nocturnal catheter pouch and took this terrible photo of it. It’s not one of the better ones, but the need for the Porcelain Throat developed as I took it. So I took the pouch to empty into the wet room with me and got seated on the plastic, just in time! The flow started and came. And came, then came a little bit more! This morning, there was a definite increase in the acidity of the smell. Phew! What a mess again to clean up. I had to use a full toilet roll in one go to clean things up satisfactorily. Then, I felt the need to put some bleach and disinfectant into the pan, and I sprayed some air fresheners around the room and hallway. I then emptied the pouch and wrapped it up for the health bin.

I went into the kitchenette and checked the faucets, fridge, and cooker; all were okay.

What a fantastic colour the sky was. Blue sky at night, Shepherd’s delight, Blue sky in the morning, Shepherd’s warning, as Dad quoted so often in my whipper-snapper days. This got me thinking back to the hellishness of life back then. The police would be calling regularly to find Mother. They never did. She ran away somewhere until she had a good con sorted out and took herself to the police station. Dad always took her back… or at least she always returned eventually. Then fights and arguing would start again between them. ‘Things would go missing again’. Taking sides was not a good idea; I tried to please them out of fear. Yet there were some excellent moments.
Precious few, in later life.

Carer Shaquille arrived. He sorted out his medications and put on diabetic socks. He received calls throughout his short visit, so I assume the Caregivers are busy. 
Shaq’s a nice bloke.

Carer Joanne later. She has medical troubles; bless her. She is a lovely lady. She looks after me, and we can have a laugh together. She is my sort of gal.

Then, it started again with the computer. CorelDraw first. I lost hours when it froze and had to reboot. But when it began, it froze again! A window came up asking what I was doing when it crashed. But it didn’t let me write anything before it disappeared! So, with my fingers crossed, I had to shut everything down and reboot afresh. A fat lot of good that did. It loaded up so far, but without one of the toolbars showing, it froze again! Now, I was as near to angry as I’d been for ages.
It loaded all the way this time, but it took ages to get there! The toolbar was showing, but with some options blanked out. They came back later.
By then, I’d made a couple of quiz graphics and went to save them but couldn’t! ‘Memory shortage again.’
So I ran Ccleaner, which offered me more options this time and soon clarified what it could do. 
However, I had to resign in on CorelDraw, WordPress, and Grammarly. I imagine it will be the same for Word and Excel when I use them, but I do not have passwords. 
Hours lost again, frustration, depression with a sick feeling in my head, fed-up! 

I seem to have more than my share of bad luck.
Can’t get any help, wherever I look,
Life really is beginning to suck!
Now I’ve to resign in on Word Hippo, me duck,
I am indeed an unlucky pillock!
I’m not a violent man, not a crook…
I went to Throne, gave my bottom a shrug,
And found a new boil on my buttock!
I wish I owned a Glock…
To end my decade-long run of bad luck…
I may try to read the Good Book?
If Glaucoma will allow me to look…
I feel a rather senile schmuck,
Life was once peaceful and snug,
I’ve frustrations & and I shake,
My problems; I expect a visit from a vrock,
Failures I can no longer stomach,
I could get out if I bought a tuk-tuk?
Still, I can give my new boil a tug,
Toothache spray, fill up a mug?
I think I’ve lost the plot, going berserk?
I am a berk, I just gave a little smirk!
My life is in complete havoc…
I can’t cope ’cause I’m a wazzock.
Will there be peace when I die?
Or will I get an aftershock?
If I can get to the surgery, I’d ask the doc’,
Why? Why? Why?
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Well, that came out a bit glum.
I could do with a change of luck.
Still, it was only in fun.
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On the bright side, the slippers the catheter peed into came out all right after being washed in the laundry room. The new diabetic socks are comfy, which can’t be said about the Catheter contraption.

And the antique battery clock thingy is still working. I haven’t dropped it yet. I’m looking for signs of things improving, you see? Let’s not push things out of the realms of possibility; I should look for things that are not going as badly as usual. That’d be nice!

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I took this sky view earlier in the day, but somehow, I missed posting it on the blog.
Nothing unusual there. It’s when I get something right that the celebrations start.

A simple meal for a simple imitation man.
Everything, not much variety, went down and tasted lovely. But I got a stomach ache later in the morning when I was in bed. I knew the potatoes were undercooked, but I still enjoyed eating them. I’m paying the price for the undercooking now. Tsk!
I got up and tried to take photos of the distant lights on Goose Fair. I’ll put them on tomorrow’s blog because they were the worst shots of the week, and I’m not proud of them. I thought it better not to put them on at first, but I take good, not-so-good, bad, and pathetic photos, so I will. 
I got a bit mixed up there.
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FAIR & FAYRE THEE WELL!