
I lay there on the floor, as my head bled…
Or to sound more clever, it exsanguinated,
An alarm went off earlier,
Could it be an intruder?
I informed control, & went for a gander…
Back-up should arrive later,
It was 22:00 hours and getting darker,
RT & torch in hand, to check the test centre,
I climbed the stairs to search for an intruder,
I lay there on the floor, as my head bled…
I thought I’d been assaulted…
But I’d fallen into a rain puddle…
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to contend with. This made removing the nocturnal catheter bag risky and required great care. But, no
I was really looking forward to a shower in the morning. I’ll ask Ejaz to take of the undersocks and leg strappings for me tonight. But made do with a stand-up wash with my feet in a bowl of water this morning’s session… which caused unexpected (or where were they really?) problems.
I got my legs in the anticepticated hot water in the bowl, and started brushing my teeth, after a quick prayer to the tooth fairy in hopes of avoiding any hassle from
This is a good example of why I shouldn’t get angry with myself when I start dropping things. I bent down and moved my left foot to balance myself… This is the moment that I realised my feet were in the bowl on the floor! But they’re not now.
Cleaning the floor kicked off
So much for getting up early to try & catch up.
It took me yonks to get things cleaned up!
I think I’d been in there for an hour and all I’d done was cleaned my teeth and the floor, although I did stop to take some painkillers towards the end of the cleaning session; I had to finish the ablutions yet!
Next, a spitting and cursing shave was done. No cuts
On with the ablutionisationing tale…
A good body-scrub done, then onto the wetroom medications. Pain-gelling first.
I got carried away with recreating the Word List. Heartbreaking that dozens of heavy files were lost. Grrr! So annoying that I can’t get to the old ones to use now. Whatever I did wrong, I proved my idiocy and inability to cope!
I went into seizure, and after coming around, and giving it plenty of time before moving or doing anything, I went to make my first brew of the day, at 1930hrs! The shades of winter with the dark days depressed me more than a smidge. At least while I was out of it, I did nothing on the computer that would make a mess or cause me of lose things.
Back to the computer, and instead of updating this blog, I wasted hours trying to find the lost files.
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“Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say something” (Plato).
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Ejaz says he will attempt to get the email address tomorrow. And help me work out how to send the seizure photo to the Doctor. He’s a good lad!
Many things happen nowadays, due to my lack of percipience, acuity, cognisance, or else possibly
What brought about this sudden depression? Something that should have cheered me up!
However, I did come to the lost photo of my faggot-meal! It was straight in front of me on Kodak Tim’s SD card! I must have checked it at least three times already. But, there it was, almost mocking me! I’d love to know two things about this cock-up… How did I miss it so many times? And which ailment or mixture of ailments can I blame? Hahaha!
Here is the snap!
Which brings to mind a Sunday, so many years ago (sorry if I’ve mentioned this before), I’d just finished a morning paper-round, and when I got home, no one was there. But, a note on the newspaper-covered table read, “Back later, dinner on (kitchen) draining board.” So I investigated… I found a chipped enamel pudding bowl with two Oxo cubes in it. I even laughed about it, until I realised the gas had run out, and I had no pennies for the meter to boil the water.
Hours later, when Dad got home from his Sunday shift wheel-tapping, he sent me to the chippy for a bag of chips for us to share and put some money in the gas meter so we could make a brew of tea.
By gum, we lived well!
I’ve lost the storyline now. Oh, yes…
I washed up what few pots there were. I settled into 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 watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV, and swiftly fell asleep! For about three minutes, when the
🎵 Where have all the flowers gone? 🎵
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TTFNski!
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Assaulted by a rain puddle. Better than when you were shot, right? Fantastic sky photos. I’m confused. I thought a faggot was a cigarette in England. Enlighten me to your use of the word.
Much better, mate. Oh, yes!
To us old uns, a Faggot is a giant meat ball, pork in the old days, with gravy and mash, it was a treat for us. I asked AI and got this: They used it as an offensive term used to refer to a gay man.
The original, archaic meaning of the word is a bundle of sticks.
In the UK, the shortened term “fag” was a common slang word for a cigarette.
Mostly in the UK, A faggot is a traditional British dish consisting of a meatball made from offal (internal organs), typically pork liver and heart) mixed with herbs and breadcrumbs.
Takes me back to my young days and re-lit a memory that I put on Tuesdays blog.
It may sound unreal, but it happened. Haha! Cheers.
Here it’s derogatory for gays. I did know about the bundle of sticks, but I had no idea about the meatballs. Learn something new all the time.
Not as interesting as Scotland’s Haggis, Tim. They make them with sheep’s heart, liver, and lungs, mixed with oatmeal, onions, suet, and spices like salt, pepper, and nutmeg. It is traditionally packed into a sheep’s stomach, though a synthetic casing is often used today. The most common meat-free alternative is vegetarian haggis, which is made with beans, vegetables, and oats.
I looked that up, Tim. I’d no idea they made a vegetarian version. What next? My Dad loved having Cow Heel on a Saturday night. I wonder if they still sell it? I’ll ask Google AI again… Yes, cow heel is available in the UK from various sources, including butchers, specialist online African/Caribbean food stores, and general online meat suppliers, who often sell it fresh, frozen, boneless, or with bone in. I’d love to try some again. Cheers, Tim, all the best.
I’ve never had a cow heal or haggis. I ate blood sausage and other gross delicacies in Spain.
Please don’t either, Tim. Haggis is for the Scottish only. Sassenachs beware. Hehehe!
I wonder what the alarm was, Gerry. You did get some great pictures taken and a good meal, despite your problems. Keep it up, if you can. I hope you do as good as you can. 😍🙏
Cheers, Sir.
Hoping for progress with the Doctors, and getting a diagnosis. Another nightmare trip back to neurology possible. Cheers.
Bloody rain puddles!
Inchie 😀 your images are inspiring, and I enjoy your hearty spirited posts! I hope this message finds you well! <3
Well, thank you very much. 👍🏼