furnished fit-for-a-King, dwelling. Rumours about the taps leaking and the Hopewells’ 1963 E-plan sideboard doors and handles dropping off are rubbish. It is a Hopewells’ 1965 E-plan sideboard with the doors and handles dropping off. And the leaking windows are good for one’s health. Let’s have a bit of rain and wind in, which is good when one can’t get out and about. Just thought I’d clarify the situation (fibbingly).
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0700hrs: I woke and realised the dreaded 
was with me as I took off the nocturnal catheter bag.
Nothing had changed. No reason to feel so down, as far as I could tell. I pressed on and, taking Kodak-Tim-2 with me, off to get some early shots of the view from the kitchenette window. All four were transferred to the computer via the SD card without any problems. After yesterday’s struggle with it, and the quality of the shots, I should have got a fillip in spirits, but the gloom of Darius prevented me from cheering up or enjoying something going right for once.
The skies were green-tinged again, but not as much as Friday morning. A fair job, I thought.
Well, I hope so, Fed up with not making it in time, and the mess!
This should also have cheered me, but Darius kept his grip on me. I don’t like feeling like this at all.
Went to finish making the brew of Glengettie and found I’d left the damned hot tap running yet again! 
Carer Ejaz arrived, and the tea went cold, of course. Not that I’m short on teabags after yesterday’s accidental ordering of 12 boxes of 80 Glengettie tea bags, for the two I had planned to get. Humph!
I can see if anyone wants any later on. It would suit my brother-in-law, Pete, down to the ground. They’ve got that earthy taste that the best black teas do; they always remind me of Co-op 99, but a little stronger with it. Delicious! Jenny might know someone who likes strong tea that I could donate to?
Back to Ejaz, I lost the plot again there.
I just typed “IU lost the plot,” and the Grammarly Robot let it through. Tsk!
Ejaz did a good job on me again. Medications, Peptac, anticoagulated the catheter areas on my legs, and 
Why one of the snaps from the balcony came out so differently from the other is beyond me. But then again, this could be said of just about anything nowadays.
The spikrit-darkening varmint!
The fridge filled up nicely, with the nurses’ and delivery people’s thank-you treats. Iced coffee seems to be the most popular one. I got some new varieties this time for them… oh, dear Jenny’s hubby and decent fellow Frank are calling in a while; four coffees of his choice await him. 
Frank arrived, bringing me two Cornish pasties to put in the freezer, the ones Jenny suggested I would like. Ah, I could have them tonight… I’ll try to remember to ask her whether they have to be thawed before cooking and how long they take in the oven. My mind was rattling along, changing subjects as I thought or talked to myself all day today. Good reason later on, well, a bad reason really. I forgot to ask her even when I phoned her later… signs of the brain getting either less workable, or more disintegrable.
As if Darius was not set in deep enough already, now silly thoughts entered my brain. Amid my frustrations, I spent hours trying to find a way to save the work I had done. Nervously, I went searching for any cdr. items on the computer to try to delete them to make room. Desperation forced me into delving into areas and files I had no idea of what they were, what they did, or why they were there. But found some that had Cdr files. Dare I? Should I? Can I delete some to free up space? For the life of me, I could not make up my mind whether the risk was too great if I tried.
Some folks have family to worry over. Me? A two-year period of struggling with a dying computer, and it looks bad, whatever I do… and I’m still undecided. If I do nothing, no more blogging. If it goes wrong, no more computer… 
I got back to the computer and carried on the search. I found hundreds of Cdr items when searching in This PC. Whatever they were, every file was tiny; it looked like Vector graphics, possibly. I chose one I thought was safe, right-clicked, and deleted it. A green progress bar started creeping along the top of the window.
Ejaz did his first evening call at this stage,
{1} The Computer
Back to the computer, and the green progress bar was about a tenth of the length of the bar. Foolishly, I closed the window and carried on with the search, finding some actual Cdr. files – 6 of them. I deleted all but one, the one I still had open. An iota of hope rose within. Back to the art package, and tried to save the work again. The busy pointer thingamabob wriggled away. A good six minutes later, the soul-destroying message returned that there wasn’t enough memory available to save this file. I almost considered suicide.
Another search, and I came across some more Cdr. files; these, I had no idea what they were. I scrolled and scrolled away, there were hundreds of them, and found on that was Cdr labelled. A big one, too. Aha, if I can delete this safely, then I’ll have a chance.
I right-clicked to ask it to view in a folder… It told me I can’t delete files held on the cloud.
I was lost. If the files were on the cloud, how did I find them searching My Computer?
When I close down tonight, I’ll lose all I’ve done for future use. With all the current problems, I’ll try to do a Cartoon and an Ode for a while, until I have time and/or a miracle and can get help sorting this out.
As for the other well-documented problems;
{I} Virgin @#ers in; not letting me sign in.
Carer Ejaz and I did, but it did not work.
Virgin @#ers whose TV remote is not working.
Who keeps sending me demands via email for a meter reading and keeps increasing the costs because I haven’t done so? Why had I not responded?
No one can understand the ancient meter. Let’s look back at this problem, shall we? In our first communication, we got cut off twice, and at £2 a minute and a £2 connection fee per call, this was wrangling Ejaz and me. My bank manager will not be pleased either. A farce, Ejaz could not understand the lady on the phone, and vice versa. We had to give up.
The following week, we tried again. Spent even more time on the phone this time. We kept being sent to the meter in the flats’ foyer to follow instructions on how to read it. Nothing worked; I had had enough and was ready to have a stroke. Ejaz was fuming, and in the end, they gave links but no satisfaction.
At the end of the conversation, I explained clearly and slowly: All I want to do is take a reading and send it to you. I need help with this. My Warden, Carers, and neighbours were asked for help, but none of them could work out how to take the reading!
“Oh, I can arrange that for you!”
“Yes, please do that!”
Of course, we’ve heard nothing back from them,
We are interested in seeing the label that shows the meter’s installation date as 20/4/15.
{3} NHS Audio Clinic
One of the hearing aids gave up the ghost. It really throws you off balance when you wear just one, so Ejaz rang Ropewalk House, 113 The Ropewalk, Nottingham, NG1 5DU. For general enquiries and adult hearing aid repairs, call 0115 919 4488. Ejaz said he reached an AI robot. Ring back on Monday. So he’ll try again tomorrow to get an appointment for a ‘Wednesday’ for me, so he can go with me.
{4} NHS Neurology
On my first (and only up to now) appointment, which I waited 3 months to get. The night before a lift was assured for me failed, and I was told to cancel the appointment. I managed to get a lift there, but not back. That was the one where I got lost, fell over on the crowded tram, got on the wrong bus, missed the get off stop, had an hour’s back walk up Winchester Street Hill in the dark to the flats, got a call from a concerned Carer, Ejaz, who was in my flat. I told him I should be there in about 20 minutes and dropped the mobile phone. In the dark, with no torch, I set about searching the bushes and leaves where I assumed it had fallen. Some local yobboes took an interest in me and came over the road to verbally torment me. Luckily, one of the flat residents was passing by in his car, saw the scuballs, and pulled in. They did a runner, the man found my mobile, and I set of up the last bit of the hill towards the flats. Ejaz rang again, and I told him when I got out of the disastrous, hairy trip home. The Doctor asked me to get a Carer to video it if I had a seizure. Carer Nimra did so. Carer Ejaz showed me how to send it in an email; then I realised I hadn’t asked for or been told of the Doctor’s email address. Humph.
{5} NHS EENT
I got a lift there with Easy Link. But, they could not take me back. Ejaz arranged for a hospital lift, bless him. I got into the building, to the correct reception, and into the main waiting hall. Within minutes, a young lady picked me up, and we went to her examination room, where we had the eye test done. As she was putting some drops in my eyes, some of them dripped down my cheek into my mouth, I recall thinking of telling her about my difficulties when the drops were put in my right eye a few years ago… I came around from the seizure a few minutes later, they tell me, and the Cardiac PET team were in the room. It seems that when I went through a seizure, the lady thought I was having a heart attack. I get, after each seizure, a foul, acidic taste coming up from the reflux, which is what confused the lady. So, two hours of tests that all came back okay, I thanked them and made my way to the main reception to wait for a lift. Five hours later, the lift arrived. That appointment lasted for 11 hours.
Where was I?
None of the above has been sorted or actioned yet.
I’ll try in the morning to see if the computer and CorelDraw let me perform.
I have cartoons to put on, and should be able to do an Ode, WordPress permitting. Everything I open now wants a new password. Why? Dunno!
Dunno a lot of the passwords either. Tsk!
This is why I waffled on while I could today.
The much-missed Horis.
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FARE THEE WELL!
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