Having woken up with the carer hovering over me, lovely gal, I could not get back to sleep afterwards. Clumpnangles! So I got the Thursday blog finished and posted off. Now it is about 01:45hrs, and I’ve got an Iceland order coming in the morning… Will I wake up to hear the intercom? No chance of hearing it if I’m asleep… Oh, dear… Ah well, better try to get the head down again! No, not yet… I’ll get the Blood Pressure done now; save time in the morning! Does that make sense? I booted up the Boot’s Sphygmomanometer, manufactured by ZDEAC (Zhongshan Daguan Electrical Appliance Company Ltd) in Guangdong, China. SIA 150, DIA 63 and the Pulse at an agreeable 80. Then the body temperature was taken with the contactless machine. Oh yes, another good figure recorded. I put the figures on the NHS DVT site. Botherations! or Cataract Cathy, maybe both of them, made me put in the wrong figure for the pulse, 60 instead of 80. And now it’s gone to the monitoring station. I’m gonna look fool again! Mind you that comes easy to me, being a fool. I’ll ring them later in the morning, maybe send an email pointing out my cock-up. Worded differently, though. Tsk!
♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chimed out, and I realised I had not unlocked the door, so made my way, rather easily actually, barely hobbling to the door and opening it… noticed that I had not got any trousers on! I hid behind the door and told Carer Valerie of my predicament. Grabbed a towel from the airer to cover my privates (although a postage stamp would have sufficed) and went into the junk room to get some trousers on. I think I heard Valerie saying, “That’s alright, don’t worry, I’ll wait here…” Fumbling to get the trews on as quickly as possible; resulted in a stubbed toe and bruised shoulder. Tsk! Valerie got the medications sorted out, and gave me a minute or two chinwagging, Bless her. She didn’t fancy a nibble or drink this morning. Thanked her and apologised for the lack of clothing, and started to explain about it and she was sympathetic I think, telling me again ‘Not to worry’♥
Back on the computer getting the blog start prepped for an hour or so, and out burst ♫ Oh, Susana ♫. It was the Iceland delivery. When I got the door open, the bags had been left handily for me to gag them in. Fair do’s to the lad, when he saw my stick and me limping, (stubbed toe the cause) he asked it I wanted him o put them through the door for me. But the lad had kept the good all neat, and I could see nothing crushed or any leaks, and he arrived on time and thought I’d best not delay him after he’s made the effort, so I replied, “No thanks, I can get them in one at a time, cheers!” I regretted saying that afterwards. Hehehe! I banged my shoulder again, starting off Shuddering Shoulder Shirley this time as I got the bags into the kitchenette and the beer into the junk room. With the massive increases in the cost of the G&T’s etc., I thought I’d tempt them with the Heineken lager instead. Iceland sent all the bread ordered today. Silly me was sure there were going to be unavailable, as there normally is… But no, not today. So I had a heck of a job, reshuffling the freezer contents to make room to get all the cobs and bread in it. At least I won’t run out of bread for a while. Haha! I’d only got two frozen items ordered. One pot of my favourite No-Moo ice cream and some No-Meat mushroom steaks to try. They were not cheap. I had to take them out of the box to get them into the fridge, and that the box they came in; could have been half the size it was, and there would still have been room in it for the miniature-sized diddly mushroom steaks. I just hope that they are tasty enough to be worth it! Getting the fresh stuff in the fridge was even more difficult to achieve. As you can see on the right here, there was not a lot of spare room left spare!
I did manage to put a couple of the bottles in there in case the Carer of the day or evening fancies a cold lager.
I assembled all the rubbish and mess that I’d made during the food delivery and the sorting it out.
As I got out of the door into the three flats foyer, the noise from nowhere and everywhere was going off. It sounded the same as it the other day, and confusing it was! To me, it sounded like a machine running, like s giant sewing machine. To Josie, it sounded like a drilling noise. And if both Josie and I can hear it, it must be loud. Neighbour Malcolm gave a different thought; he said it was like rushing water. I got to the. I got into the lift lobby to go to the waste chute room at the far end, and I swear it was louder than ever. All a part and parcel of the mysteries of Winwood Heights, the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodemons, apparitions and other grotesqueries that haunt the hallways and lobbies, searching for Inchcock, to create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare. worry and confuse me! I got back in the flat and had a wee-wee; I’ve not mentioned them yet, but they were regular if short ones.
I had a wash, and I checked out the ankle and legs. Apart from a little bloating on the right foot, they were so much better than yesterday. Which made a nice change.
On the computer, I made a start on the Local News Snippet blog, then started this one going. Again, the time has vanished; it’s 13:00hrs already? I thought I ought to get on the WordPress Reader to catch up on others’ blogs posted. So, I did!
He’s of again, bang, thud, clang. Tap-tapping. I wouldn’t be the same living here if wasn’t up there above me, with his mechanical operas keeping me company. Got the new spuds in the saucepan. Then quartered some large mushrooms, seasoned them and got them going in the crock pot. I seemed to be doing well and considered going into a Smug-Mode.
Buy, my EQ warned me against doing so, so I didn’t. Seconds later, I found out why…
Getting the tomatoes out of the fridge, and at just the wrong moment, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley ensured the tomatoes ended up on the floor. As I moved to try to catch some, I trod on one! so…
I only went down on one knee this time, but it was Cartilage Kathy’s right one, and ever since, she’s been showing her displeasure at my actions, in the form of stinging a fair bit when I move, stand up, or bend the knee. Hey-Ho! I rubbed in a load of Phorpain Gel.
Got down in the c1962 recliner, and I kept a keen eye on the timing for the fodder cooking. Most importantly… and the difficult bit in staying awake! But I managed it and was soon getting the nosh served up and cleaning the mess I’d made. It’s becoming a habit lately, making messes and having Accifauxpas when cooking?) The meal on the tray balanced dangerously on the folds on my stomach flab. Everything on display looked divinely appealing. Apart from the first time tried, No-Lamb lamb steaks had been tried before, and nothing let me down. The expensive No-Lamb Lamb steaks were okay. But not worth the money. They were not as good as the No-Meat Burgers I usually have. But Iceland doesn’t even have them on the list for sale now; I hope they get some more in soon. Humph! Anyway, I gave this pone a Taste-Rating of 9.2/10!
I put the tray on the carers table and promptly drifted off into a much-needed sleep… But not for long; half an hour later, the ♫ Oh, Susan ♫ tune awakened me with a shock! Joseph arrived. At least I had some trousers on. No top clothing, though; I think the grossness of my blubbery stomach shook him a bit. Hahaha! Poor lad. Got the meds sorted, and I offered Joseph a drink or nibble in thanks, and he refused them – that’s Valerie then Joe? Wished him a good evening as he departed with the waste bag for the bin. (I remembered to ask him to take the bag tonight) I locked the door and climbed back into the recliner to get back to sleep. A futile effort in my gaining any time with Sweet Morpheus. I lay there, well, getting up a few times for a wee-wee, for an hour or two, then got up and back on the computer to update this blog and then lay out the Snippets one. Did the Ode below and got it on. Then posted it off to WordPress.
I made so many mistakes in getting this ode from CorelDraw into this blog that I got the first verses out of sync. But it’s now 00:45hrs, and am so tired. Luckily this ode is so bad, that you may not notice. Hehehe!
06:00hrs: I roused from my slumber and felt full of life and ready to get upped and at ’em… Thankful to find I was still alive. Blessed the Lord, praised my good fortune, I thanked the Heavens for another day of joy and merriment. And admired the state of my muscular six-pack stomach… Of course, t’was all a figment of my half-asleep, depressed, tortured, nervously agitated, dominated, feeble, and confused mind.
Truth? I felt horrible! Physically, things were not too bad at all! But only mentally. Fair enough, I’d done something to the right hand’s middle finger, at the bottom of the nail. The tiniest bit of something sticking up, and each time I caught it on something, it stung like hell. Finger beginning to swell and redden? No idea what had caused it. The ulcer is forever glowing and growing one day, then sinking and hiding the next? But the Doctor said she’s not bothered about this, so it will be alright. She was concerned with the fluid retention and swelling and took the time to talk to me in great depth to explain the malady and how and what to do… She said (To Meridian’s Natalie on the phone): ‘Tell him to put his feet up.’ Nothing like a caring Doctor, I imagine. But how would I know? Commenced. The body temperature was once again almost perfect, close to the said optimum of 35°f, with 34.6°f. Perfick! Sphygmomanometerisationing session next. These returns were far better than yesterday’s were. SYS down to 134, DIA 63, and the Pulse down to 79 bpm. This looked good to me. I got the computer and put the figures into the NHS DVT site to see what they make of it. I got a details list; come back this time.The Blood Pressure was pleasing, especially with it going up yesterday. I’m out of the red zone again! Very satisfied with being n the pre-high area. I’ve not done that very often… well, in the last month, I have a few times.
Carer Richard arrived, looking a little more sprightly and not yawning. I was going to ask him if he’d got a decent sleep in at last, but he volunteered that he has four days off now and will see me next Monday. He needed a break. I bet someone doesn’t come in, and they call on Richard again. Poor lad! He checked the medical drawer to ensure sufficient medications were available until Monday. He noticed I winced when I was getting his treats out; when I caught whatever it was, thingamabob, whatnot, near the nail. Told me to level the bit sticking up and put a plaster on it. So, I did! Feeling an idiot for thinking of doing that myself! Haha! We had a natter after Richard had done the medicationings. Taking my waste bags with him on the way out to the rubbish chute for me.
I got the kettle on, and as I did, it was as if someone had turned the light off… The sky went ominously dark very quickly. I got the Canon camera and took this photo. I was expecting a downpour any moment, but no! Within a few minutes, the light had returned. Dr Who would have known what was going on? But not me. Hahaha! I noticed the usually plus green meadow at the bottom of the tree copse was looking a little weather-worn. But not around the edges, but only in the centre? A dog-walker was picking her little white dog’s poo and putting it into a bag for the poo box. This got me thinking of my younger days living in the Meadows. If memory serves me right, and my long-term memory usually does, the short-term usually affects me. I can recollect that there was an abundance of dog droppings on my paper rounds, and I reckon 74% of it was white or grey. Even some of the cats’ evacuations were! No one ever thought of collecting the turds back then, of course. They’d get dried and then used as kickabouts by the local kids. I’m assuming the whiteness was due to malnutrition of some sort? Looking back a the food given to some dogs makes me shudder. A lot of dogs ate with the family. Whatever they ate, the dogs did. Then along came the new Lassie and Chappie canned dog food. 3d a can! This equates to about… let’s see, there were 240ds to a pound, so if divide 240 by three, excuse me while I use the calculator… that would buy 80 cans for a quid! Those were the days! Today one tin of Chappie cost £1.30; what percentage rise in price is that?
But the dogs on our terrace did not take to Lassie or Chappie. Apart from Mr & Mrs Wright’s Rover. I knew that Mrs Dukes Sammy, Mr Marsinacks dog (I can’t remember his name), and the barber, Mr Barker’s three dogs, Lilli, Brutus and Chelsea, hated them. Not so bad for those three. The owner could afford fresh or canned meat for them. Other dogs continued to pass the white lumps, most of them going from bin to bin in search of fodder. Still, no one complained about the dog mess… I think we thought it would just evaporate. Ha, Ha!
I spent hours and hours doing this blog. No one called, no hassle… apart from the odd overture of noises from the antisocial, smarmy Herbert in the flat above But, not a lot today… up till now, anyway.
I’ve run out of bread; I do have some part-baked cobs to use, though. I made an order from Iceland for next week and ordered a few loaves; there should be room in the freezer for the bread by then.
Getting late already. I got the meal sorted. I worked things out oven-cooking-wise (Huh!); The veggie burgers needed 30 minutes cooking, the potato Rosti’s 20, so I planned to put the burgers in for 10-minutes, then add the rosti. And what a danged mess I made in doing so.
Muggins here did it the opposite way around! Realised five minutes later that and removed the rostis, burning my wrist as I took them out, and dropped one on the floor.
Reconstituted and shaped it, burning my finger, and got the burgers in and cooking.
Dropped the plate as I was putting the peas onto it.
Forgot to add the rostis after 10 minutes!
By then, I was pretty self-critical, and at that time. Herbert kicked off with a tap-tap-crunch routine.
I’m sure what I did then, I was pretty stressed and miffed. Somehow, I got the mess sorted in a fashion. And got sat in the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working, recliner, and ate the meal from a tray, balancing precariously on the folds of fat on the stomach. While eating it, I kept getting twinges of guilt for leaving the kitchen sink with food-burnt-on oven trays soaking. Still, despite it all, I ate all of the fodder and scored it an 8/10 for taste.
Put the plate to one side and drifted into a deep, almost heavenly dream-filled sleep. I’ve no idea what I was dreaming of, just knew it must have been something pleasant… For the Evening-Carer had arrived and stood over me, looming and speaking… I thought at first that this must be a part of the dream. My mind was all over the place. The gal had not rung the ♫Oh Susana♫ door chime and came in without me knowing. Good job that I wasn’t changing PPs or wee-weeing in the bucket! I was a little out-of-it, slow, mentally, having just been woken up, so things were foggy about the visit. Got the meds sorted, and I think we had a little natter about something. I walked to the door with her to lock it. Thanked her and offered a treat, unaccepted or wanted on this occasion. Wished the gal all the bestest, and I hastened back for a wee-wee. Not had one for a while.
No shaving cuts… because for some reason, I forgot to shave? The feet looked a little colourful, but I’d not long been out of the shower, so that would have some bearing on their condition, I reckon. Back on the computer, after failing to nod back to sleep. Another ruined night’s sleep. And I’m paying to be woken up to be given my medications! Hahaha!
I found a lost photo of the front car park from this morning. The vehicles are parked rather decoratively, don’t you think? A colourful selection on view. Guilt reminded me that the kitchen had not been cleaned yet. So I cleaned it, then got back to the comp[uter to update this blog to here.
Then I went into ponderisationalistical-mode on what today’s Ode should appertain to… Well, I sat here waiting for inspiration. Listening to the dreaded World-Wide-Hum getting louder and louder, or seemingly so! An hour later, I am still awaiting some afflatus or eureka-moment to inspire the Ode into logicality… no, no, that won’t work. Best do the normal then, type away and hope for the best, no doubt struggling for words, what they mean, how to spell them, miss-typing and spelling, confusion, inanity… the usual stuff then. Sorry about that.
At around 02:00hrs, I woke for the first time. In need of a wee-wee and got to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) in plenty of time for a change. But it must have been several minutes that I stood there waiting for the PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling) to complete its dribbling mission. Back to the recliner, and I tried to reattain some sleep. Which, in a way, I repeatedly did. But it seemed like every five minutes, I was back to springing awake with a jump or jerk. Haha! The jerk is likely me. During one of the sojourns to the grey plastic bucket, I realised how easier the ankle and foot felt. Several more wee-wees were needed, thankfully without the PMAD. So got the cannon, turned on the flash, and took a photo. That ointmentating last night has done me a lot of good! I gave up on getting more sleep, and I got up around 06:00hrs and got the medical box out. Started. I got the readings and tool the usual photographicalisations of them, but they were not to be found on the camera card later? Nor last night’s nosh, either? A good job I wrote down the numbers; sometimes I don’t, just use the photo I’d taken. Input the results as above right. The BP was up a fair bit, the pulse a smidgeon, and the body temperature once again OK! Made the graph and waddled off into the kitchenette to get the first brew of the day going. I opted for Thompsons’ Punjana with semi-skimmed milk (that’s all I had in!). I saw a mass of smoke coming up from the far distance. In the Basford area, I think. But remembered abbot the card not taking photos. So took out the card to check the lock button, blew into the card holder slot, and reinserted it. Back to the window, and the smoke had got a lot less. I could see the blue lights flashing around the area. I went back to the computer and quickly checked the emails. Oh, dear! I found I’d got a J Sainsbury order that I thought was due on Friday. This is going to be fun getting the food in the already packed fridge… but I like a challenge. Started on the WP comments; well, I got one anyway. And the JS order arrived nice and early. The driver put the items into the two saved boxes and asked for a bag as well. Seems I got carried away again with the ordering; mind you, it’s good that I now have a lot of spring water in stock. If there is another heat wave, no doubt the panic buying will start again. The man out the stuff in the hallway for me. Among the items purchased were mixed veg in water and whole free Jersey cow milk. Orange cordials, vegan seasonings, bleach. Tomatoes with basil and something else I can’t make out? More stuff; bananas, fresh pod peas, yellow tomatoes, and fish-free fish sticks. Strawberries and roses for the warden’s weekly treat. I’ll take them down later on to the Wardens holding cells for them. Two first-time purchasers here; A different brand of burgers and some smokey cheese substitute. I’ll have to ask Richard to read the does & don’ts on the label in the morning. It feels very solid? Back to the blogging, and just as I started getting somewhere: Smoke & Mirrors Man Mr Fries Liberty-Global, Virgin Media died a death again! More time lost! Still, it may be an integral part of one of his ambidextrousness, chicanery, and self-financial-defence mechanism?
He’s probably convinced his bosses that he is making such a cock-up of running Virgin Media on purpose. If enough of the fog boys are all driving the same f-up of service and ignoring customers and may go bust, take BT, for instance, just as bad. Then the value of those companies will fall, and Liberty-Global can either get more than the $23.3 billion they bought it for and sell it or pick up a few more internet companies for peanuts, and we can ruin them as well… It Doesn’t make sense, does it? But I can see in my minds-eye Fries conning his bosses like this. Smoke & Mirrors are his forte! I don’t say these things lightly. And it is nothing to do with my being covetous of his manly looks, stubby-chin, masculine body. Nor jealously of his $23m a year salary, bonuses and expense account on top of it all, not to mention the grand back-handers and shares in the company he gets given. Or his gorgeous wife… Where was I? Started getting a little persistent again. He must have a big order on for some school or church? He reminds me of Harold Shipman without his beard. Finally got the ode added and finished yesterday’s blog. Doing this one will take ages with such a late start on it? Put the computer to sleep, and I took the treats down to the Wardens holding cell in Winwood Court. Forgot to take the camera with me. Huh! Got to the office, and I gave them a choice of plonk, the roses and strawberries, back up to the flat and carried on with this blog.
All I did was turn in the swivel chair to stand up, and an instant loss of balance hit me! Bounced off of the recliner, which was good, cause its well-padded. Rolled and gently plopped onto the floor, hitting my head on the table leg. Going to turn it all off and sit quietly for a while, then hopefully get summat to eat. Not eating might have encouraged the Dizzy Dennis spell?
Back later. Well, I hope so. Hehehe! I’m back…
Oddlimost Nosh for Ages… Tons of pod peas, nothing but the best… Black & yellow tomatoes with a tasty zest. No-Fish Fish Sticks, on this plate, the sweetest, Part-baked batch, the tastiest! A banana, two pots of desserts, Well, I was at my hungriest… I hope it is easy to digest!
Checked on the Plates-of-meat… The ulcer was looking a bit pink… Water retention put the feet out of sync, The bottom of the feet began to plink, Will that ulcer ever shrink? Involuntarily passed wind, what a stink!. Caused the nosh, I think?. When the carer’s been, I’ll wash and shave at the sink!
Evening Carer called, twas Valerie Val handed two letters from the box to me,
She sorted the medications professionally,
Thanked her with a punnet of fruit, strawberry,
I felt a fart building, but I didn’t let it free,
Leaving, she took the waste bags to the chute for me!
Letters Investigated… One letter was from the bank, the TSB… A leaflet, ‘We are here to help, that’s contradictory, Nottingham had 23 branches in 2003, now just one, sadly, And that’s miles away, that’s due for closure shortly… The other mail, from the Council, telling me… To go on the internet for a details inventory, Fill it in to be able to vote next January!
Late Ablutionalisation Session Thoughts In Ode I look a little like I was growling?
The shower curtain shows its dolphin.
I’m stuck in the flat, not globetrotting,
Passing wind all the time, it needs fumigating,
Little Inchies fungal lesion exsanguinating,
The rear end began erupting…
My mind and concentration ever drifting,
Frequently self-condemning,
Inwardly waffling, bloviating,
Moments of lucidity were thin…
Two stubbed toes… so aggravating!
Moments of pure daydreaming,
Yet I was content, although inwardly waffling…
With the Thoughtstorms bludgeoning…
Battering my brain, but not concerning?
I finished off, the toes still twingeing,
But, no point in my minging or ologoaning…
Hello, can I hear someone phoning?
Watched the Football Match I was overjoyed that it was won by Germany!
France winning would be Whoopsiedangleploppery,
If England had to face France, possible misery…
England can win a competition final, finally…
Although, it certainly won’t be easy…
The final is played next Sunday,
Huh, guess who’s kicked off; Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley!
That’s yer lot, can’t type in this condition. I’ll post this later.
I’m back: I nearly forgot Sister Jane rang me. The Police Pegasus has been in touch with her as a first-responder on the list. As soon as I heard this, I remembered the form they had sent for me to update my details. Carer Richard never got around to helping me fill it in, and I forgot all about it! What a twit! Jane rang them back and kindly called me back to say she had done it but had forgotten to tell them about the youths who came into the flat at 02:00hrs the other month. We are a pair for forgetting things! Hahaha!
Why did they bother sentencing him to death? Hang on, I thought San Quenton had closed down? I got this information from Bittanica as well. Maybe it’s another prison?
I stirred back into ersatz life. Not springing awake, the event was all rather laid back. Until I realised, I had no idea what the time of day it was. Indeed, what day had just dawned. It was still dark; I had no idea where I’d left the wristwatch and could not find the wind-up torch to look at the clock on the fireplace top. But, no worries, really. I was just slightly annoyed at myself and Dementia Doreen.
As I laid back, with the intention of nodding back off into dreamland, I was assured that there was no cause or reason to get up early, a wee-wee suddenly all but started of its own accord!
This also annoyed me somewhat, having to get up from the place of sleep. But I soon realised it had to be done quickly, and rather smartly for me I thought, was pulling down the PPs and utilising the nocturnal bucket within a minute! Which I knew at the time should not have been. I heard my EQ laughing! Now decision time; Do I go and get my hands washed, thus destroying any chance of getting some extra sleep in? Or, to snuggle down in the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, crumb-holding recliner?
I opted to get my head down again. But… as I put the stick back in the slot at the side of the chair, I advanced a little too far with my right foot! And, by way of a change, I gave myself a foot stubbing instead of the usual toe!
I ended up sideways on, half-in, half out of the recliner. With something sticking under my bum? Banging my elbow on the way down. Guess what? I’d found the camera, torch and wristwatch all stuck down the side. twixt the cushion and the arm. Hahaha! Well, I thought it was funny, even at the time. I used the camera to take this shot of the foot, but it didn’t come out well – I think mother said that about me. Hehe! Smiling to myself, I started to disentangle my ungraceful, ungainly, ponderous body to a more sleepable position, got sim-settled, and thought I’d see if I could make out the time, using the torch… As I deemed it to be a quarter past five, I remembered the Ocado order was due from 06:00>07:00hrs! Globblegrumps!
I was soon back up on my painful foot, well, on them both. And started to make room in the fridge for the incoming food to be safely stored. I dropped the two packets of dried beans, and one of them burst open! Another mess to sort out! It’s been an odd morning so far! It got odder! I searched for a screw-lid container the right size for the rescued peas that hadn’t hit the floor to be stored in. And in light, saw that the time was only 04:15hrs? I reckon that Cataract Cathy had fooled into thinking it was five-fifteen when it would mayhaps have been something else?
Ah, of to the Throne. I felt sure that all the peas I had nibbled, along with the Dioctyl, would be enough to get things moving, as I thought they would. But No! Colin Constipation kept a firm grip on the product, and he was not letting anything get through. Painful, but no bleeding.
I surrendered and got on with Health Checks. The Boot’s Sphygmomanometer, manufactured by, ZDEAC (Zhongshan Daguan Electrical Appliance Company Ltd) in Guangdong, China, proferred these results.
The SYS was up again to 152, the DIA 69, and the Pulse down to 79 from yesterday’s high. The body temperature was fine, at 33.8°f.
I popped the resulting figures into the NHS Patient Monitor page. They out me a little higher into the red zone on their graph. I made up the graphic of me and added it to the jpeg for a bit of humour to share.
Liberty-Global, who owns Virgin Media. Went down for the third time today. This one was for a long time. When it came back on, an hour or two later, it was so slow! I got the graph of Virgin Media downtime in the UK. People writing in were not happy at all. Two areas had no service for a day! Most of them, like me, suffer outages every day. Mind you, BT were nearly as bad. Big Boys Bullying with ridiculous adverts about the ‘stretched’ claims of reliability and being the fastest service available.
What about people on these networks working from home on their computers? Do they get any compensation? BT offer a fantastic bargain… well, they did last year in their TV adverts. £30 a month back if we fail to give you (whatever the speed promised was). Mr Fries, the Liberty-Global Mogul, knows nothing about supplying an internet service, yet he’s bought into other internet companies throughout mainland Europe? Still, he gets his £23 a year salary plus bonuses and expenses. By his looks, you’d think he was a Godfather in the Mafia, wouldn’t you? I imagine he would be the perfect candidate for the Presidency race? He must have the ambidextrousness, chicanery and flimflam skills needed to flourish as the US president? Ah, no, I realise now, that would mean him taking a massive pay cut!
The Ocado delivery came just within the hour window. A decent chap; I think he came last time I used Ocado. He carried all the bags into the kitchenette for me as well. That was decent of him!. I made sure he took a can in thanks. I got the bottled water delivered this time, all of it. I’d anticipated many not being available; well, there was none available from Iceland or Sainsbury’s last week. I got the lot, as you can see here on the right, that’ll keep me going for a while. Hahaha! As I’d just finished stacking the bottles and packs, down the stack tumbled, landing on my recently damaged foot! Tsk!
But, I didn’t mind, what’s a bit more pain; I merely laughed it off!. No cursing at all… Ahem! The fridge was soon filled up again. A most comforting site, I must say. Still, come think of it, it s not as fill as it usually is, and the Carer treats will reduce the contents. Bless ’em, I do insist, you know. Har-har! Ah, I do feel a fool, more to go in in another bag. Bananas, garden peas, some part-baked baguettes, black tomatoes, lemon fools and the delicious but oh, so pricey Marks & Spencers Potato Rosti Cakes, I don’t want to think of what I paid for them, if you don’t mind. The M&S cakes were on offer, and still the most I have ever paid for eight little cakes. What am I doing? I’ll be broke if I go on like this. Body and financially at this rate, and I think I’ve got a Sainsbury order in for a few a day’s time. Oh, dearie me! I had to take out Richard’s Monday treats to make room for getting the other stuff in the fridge! I enjoy giving a bit in thanks to a good carer. I popped them in a carrier bag. Richard’s due any time now, so they should keep okay.
I got on the computer, to find that it was down again. Grobblewanks! I’m getting to dislike hocus-pocus Fries all the more. He’s taunting and haunting me! Arrived and had a chinwag after he’d sorted the medications and checked the medication drawer for stocks, bless him. He had to go a bit sooner than usual; he’s been given an extra call to so. He’s still not sleeping well. I suggested he try out the Hemp for him months ago and bought him a pot; I don’t like to see him all done in. But he thought they were drugs. Wished him a better kip, and he took the bags with him to the waste chute for me. Herbert gave me a drilling noises concert this time. How he does it so musically amazes me, he even ended with a thud or two to sign off. Hehe!
I think this was the fourth time that £23m a year’s Fries of Liberty-Global has gone down. Not for so long this time, though… but just give him time. You know, there’s a slight chance that he doesn’t even care. or know about his total failure in running an internet Suppliers company? Still, getting that sort of money, he must have some connection with the Mafia, Government or Putin?
I had two of the Royalty Priced lemon iced cakes and a mug of Thompson’s Punjana black tea. Note the tray that holds the cakes? It’s made if wood, I forget which one now, but they are feather light. Minutes after scoffing, in walked ‘I know best’, Esther. I was just trying to get the Liberty-Global Virgin Media back online at the time. She spoke a lot, mostly from the other room, so I’ve no idea what she was on about, but she didn’t tell me off when she came back in the room… which tells me that two scenarios may be in progress here. ① She was pleased with not getting any answers, so she may have put up the costs she charges, and I will never know. ② Or, she is planning a super-rollicking for me next week and is cunningly formulating now? She then decided I had not enough clothes dirtied to bother with her washing today. Which may result in an increased cost next week if the laundry bag is too big? Anyway, I played it safe cause I was a little nervous about not getting shouted at, which threw me a bit. I gave her the other two M&S lemon cakes. Scared? Me? You bet I am! Not half!
I spent so long on this blog, having to keep stopping regularly when Mr Fries Liberty-Global Virgin Media kept going down. The evening Carer may come at any time. So I had a nibble of some of the peas I put in the container after the Accifauxpa in the kitchen earlier. I had to move them away from the computer in the end, I was forever nibbling some, and with Peripheral Pete and Shaking Shoulder Shirley giving me some hassle, there are probably at least a dozen of the dried monster lurking somewhere in the room, ready for me to tread on them. Hehehe! Hello, a final (I hope) blast from Herbert. Sounded like the hammer and drill were being used in unison? Clever stuff, you know. Cheeky Charlie, the carer arrived; she’s not been for a while. I’ve missed her. She kindly got the gloves on and ointmentated the swollen toes, a stubbed part of the foot, and the ankle ulcer for me. That was lovely. ♥ The leg and foot felt much betterer afterwards.
Got some food cooking then. Potato Rosti in the oven. Took a photo of it, but it never made it to the SD card? Humph! Anyway, it was good. Rating: 8.2/10. Washed the pots and tittivated the kitchen; and got my head down to watch the England Women v (Nasty, fouling) Sweden Woman match on the box. I’ve not been as proud of an England team’s performance since 1966. Now, will it be France or Germany we face in the final?
After the match, I went to make a brew, and the night sky was begging to be photographed. So I did. Fantastic! (An almost water-colour-painted) hue. Argh! The left foot this time, though. The ointmentated right ankle was looking so calm. Grrreat! Got my head down, comforted by England’s phenomenal win over the Sweden bully-girls. But anxious, in the event that we face France in the final. I have an EQ-inspired thought that if it is France, it could mean defeat. I pray that Germany wins against France tomorrow night.
Due to so much time lost faffing about at the Sherwood Dentist, shopping and finding empty shelves, missing the bus back up the hill, and so many wee-wees, I must be in line to be Champion Wee-Weewer; this diary will only be a sketchy one. It’s a good job I spent all night getting the graphics done!
In between the repetitive wee-weeing.Tsk!
0515hrs: I’ve been up all night! Got the ablutionisationing done. Came out to get the kettle on, bleary-eyed! The odd wee-wee was taken.
I got out the Chinese sphygmomanometer and got on with the sphygmomanometerisationing. Hahaha!
The Blood pressure was; SYS 146, DIA 71, and the Pulse at 71bpm. Obviously, the Pulse had dropped a little from the last two days. The body temperature was not bad at all, at 33.5°f.
I checked the time available, and I decided to visit the (NHS) National Health Services DVT patients check site. It came out as a smidgeon higher in the red than yesterday’s test did. Made this graphicalisation on CorelDraw, then began to ready things for the hobble top Sherwood, remembering to use the homemade checklist.
Done.
Richard arrived. We managed a decent natter, and he checked the medication drawer. Selected a cold plonk from the fridge, and he departed a tired lad, taking the waste bags with him to the shute for me. I got the list of things needed for the hobble into Sherwood for the Dentist visit. Then prepped things, making sure things were in the jacket pockets or the Walker-Trolley. Walked to Sherwood. As you can see, I forgot to put the woolly hat in the basket, Humph!
. So, I set off out and took the lift down to the ground floor. Taking this selfie as I did so. Of course, I wanted to go down via the 12-floors of the concrete fire escape route, just to keep myself in shape, with a body like what mine is; one likes to look after it. Plus, with me being a young, athletic fitness fanatic… alright then! Don’t laugh! Haha! You understand. I made my way along the inner link corridor and made a fool of myself… it’s easily done for me, looking a plonker. Even easier nowadays since Vascular Doreen Dementia took up residence in my brain. I started to ask Deana and Julie (Wardens) in their office if they could ask Meridian’s Natalie if she’s heard anything from the Diabetes people about where the courses are and the transport from Nottingham Community place. It all came out wrong, and the girls were more confused than before I’d started talking!
I hobbled down Winchester Street, turned left down Mansfield Road and visited the Oran Food Stores Cash-Point. My brain froze as I got my card out – oddly enough, I remembered the number but was flummoxed as to which way round to put the card in the machine! I felt a right-chump going in to ask the lady in the shop! The look on her face said something like, “He shouldn’t be out on his own!” But she gave me a twinkling of a smile (derision, or sympathy-based, I’m not sure!) as I thanked her and returned to get some money from the ATM. Back in the shop, but they didn’t 3 of the 4 things that I’d hoped to get. As I mentioned the other day, It’s crumbling, the UK!
I limped back up the Mansfield Road incline over Winchester Street at the traffic lights junction, and I called into the Wilko store. They didn’t have a single one of the items on their sad, all-but-bare shelves! Humph! e. I needed some Wilko Fresher granules and washing-up liquid, Zoflora lemon, and their own brand 15-litre blue waste bags. I carried on, feeling a smidgeon pee’d off at my lack of success. The wind was cool and getting up a little, a summer portend of rain to come?
I called into two charity shops to see if any bobble or flat caps were on sale. No!
This surgery always gives bother of some sort or another, a few of them this time. Getting up the three chunky, concrete steps with the walker was not going well! I was rescued and helped a chap just arriving. A lady phoned me yesterday and asked that I get to the surgery early. Well, I had done 20 minutes despite the fortress defences having to be fought through. The receptionist was hard to hear, and ten minutes or so late, I was commanded to take a seat; someone will fetch you! “Thank you!”
I sat down and had the battle to see the crossword clues as the lighting was terrible and the cataract. They had left a door open in the waiting room, which usually would not bother one… but I had a further 50 minutes before I was seen by a dentist… I’ll explain.
A lady came to me and asked if I could manage to get up the two flights of stairs to my dentist? As calmly as possible, I replied: “Each time I come, this happens, no I can’t get up the stairs, as I told staff last time, and the previous five times, and still you book me in with the top-floor wallah!” Lady (Doing her best), “It will be a while before we can re-sort a ground floor surgery for you” – Me: “Six months ago, I was told that I’d automatically be on the ground floor from now on, but no!” “We’ll sort it out…” “Oh, good, thanks!” Back to struggling with the cool breeze and the crossword book.
Forty minutes later, I was led, well, more marched, to the far front surgery. The whole examination couldn’t have lasted longer than five or six minutes! I again asked if it was possible to have all the teeth out? Reply? “I don’t think so! I mentioned the loose tooth at the front next to where its former neighbour fell out seven months ago. Reply? “Do you want me to pull it?” Me: “Well, now you, mention it…” Interrupted: “No, it should last until the next visit”.
Aghast at how I’d been treated, I asked her for a prescription for some more of the Duraphat toothpaste. She gave me a prescription that had to be stamped to legalise it at the reception when you pay. So I went to pay up. Now you can add another five minutes or more while the three receptionists were all on the phone, no clients anywhere? But I needed the Duraphat, so I stood there in silence. Eventually, one of the receptionists signalled with a backward flipped head-nod for me to pay my dues and stamped the prescription for me. I needed help again, this time in getting me and the trolley down the steps on the way out. It’s hard to believe all that just happened, but it did.
Up to the top of the hill, to the Lloyds Chemists, to get the Duraphat. I bought some Germolene, being as the chemist had some in stock! I bought the last two tubes. But nothing is too good for Little Inches Fungal Lesion! Hehehe! Paid up, out and back down to the bus stop. A long time since I used this, and I tried to read the timetable for the 40 bus – mission impossible! A lady arrived, who I thought I’d seen at the flats, and we got into a good nattering session. Great sense of humour; I must try to see her again! The bus arrived, and we were soon back up at the flats. The next ten minutes proved how much I’d been missing getting out. As I met Margaret, who I’ve not seen for months now. We had a gossip. Then another bus came in, and Chrissie got off, Margaret got on the bus, and we walked through the inner route through Winchester and Winwood Courts back to our Woodthorpe Court.
Two people chatted as they passed Chrissie and me by. Then Natalie from Meridian stopped to tell me she was sorting out a lift for the Diabetes course. No details yet. Then I met Cheeky Charley, the carer, and Chrissie and I got the lift up to our flats.
A bit embarrassing:, with the excitement of seeing people, I got confused as to which floor we were on and when the doors opened, I stood there waiting for Chrissie to get out of the cage… it was my floor – Oh, I did feel a fool! Bade farewell to Chrissie. ♥ And red-facedly, I made haste to my apartment. No sooner had I got the trolley into the flat than the need for a wee-wee had me scrambling into the wet room. The timing and mot getting caught out while I was in Sherwood, Truly Amazing! Of course, I was wise not to go into Smug-Status because the AMS must have lasted for a good five or six minutes! . I got the things put away. I’m looking forward to the vegan franks again; I’ve had some earlier in the year, and they were good. If I’ve got any chips in the freezer, I may have them with the sausages – eventually.
I got on with the blogging at long last. But not before I took these shots as the sky suddenly brightened up. There’s something about the beautiful to me, clouds.
Of course, I do enjoy my pareidolia. I saw a face mask and eyes in these photographs, traces of a face as well. Do you see them? On with the blogging. I really need some sleep, but the blog must go on! Hehehe!
♫Oh, Susana♫ came from the door chime, and I got up to answer it; it was dear Josie bringing back her weekend meal tray and pots. She volunteered how much she liked them this week. Which was nice to hear. The right foot was hurting somewhat when I took the things off of Josie, so I took a look at the plates and ankle. Sure enough, the right leg and foot looked like they were swelling up again? Ah, that might be due to the little hobble I took earlier? See how quick I was there? I can be like lightning at times! Hahaha! The Evening Carer could be here at any time from now. I’ll make a start on the day’s ode, I think. Hello, the rains starting! By the time I’d got the camera out to take a snap of it, it had stopped. Ah, well, every little bit helps!
I was just about to mention that the wee-weeing had stopped. But no, more annoying, after-dribbling wee-wees are back again. I’ve changed my mind and am going to get something to eat instead.
The doggie hot dog sausages I’d cooked had a tough plastic skin on them that I’d not noticed before. I had to skin them before eating. They looked terribly pale then, and the smooth texture, that was not appealing whatsoever to look at. But my gum, they tasted delicious! The sliced potatoes and tomatoes were disappointing. The part-baked bread was gorgeous! And the No-Bull vegan ice cream to follow, as you know by now, I loved! The overall Taste Rating was 8.2/10. I washed the pots and got down in the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working recliner. Put the TV on, and I promptly drifted off into the land of Nod. For half an hour or so…
I was rudely awakened by the tune of ♫ Oh, Susan ♫, and Carer Sarah (I might have the wrong name there, sorry if so) came in. Soon got the medications sorted for me. Selected a cold can of G&T for her choice of treats from the fridge, picked up the waste bag, and off she went. Thank you!
Could I get back to sleep again? Well, yes, I did this time! I think it was sheer exhaustion, the upsetting farce, and the hobble the dentist helped. I slept right through until about 01:00hrs, no jumping awakes, no wee-wees needed. Grrreat! In fact, as I made my way to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket), I sensed the need for the Porcelain Throne. . It turned out the Constipation Conrad had taken over the innards functions, and despite my best efforts to move things, nothing evacuated from the rear end. However, an FPBWW (Forceful-Painful-Blasting) marathon of a wee-wee flowed out as if from a hose pipe! I washed the dandies and things and returned to my chair, hoping to get some sleep again.
Amazingly, I soon got to kip and was dreaming of being on a big wheel, with an old girlfriend… and jumped awake so violently, with wind escaping flutteringly, from my rear end. Dang, Dang…Dang Dang! The race was on to get back to the Throne! Tearing free of the pyjama bottoms, I plonked my elephantine-bellied body down on the seat… the biggest, longest, and it is possible, making a raspberry-sounding-like release that shook the foundations of my insides! Then, this time, a wee-wee session arrived; in the WUNT (Weak-Unwilling-Negligible Trickling) style. Each I felt it was coming to an end, the trickle refreshed! Well, if nothing else, I was getting a variety of WC and Throne visits. Hehehe!
I rose, mentally weary and physically so tired. Sweet Morpheus has been unkind to me for a few days. Not much sleep at all.
I pottered about, starting many things and drifting merrily off to such others. Not many saw completion or fruition.
I found some photos that were supposed to have gone on yesterday’s blog. Last night’s meal. A veggie dinner and veggie ice cream, not that the brain was clear enough, but I think it was nice and tasty. I gave the memory an 8/10 score. Apart from the beetroot, which tested my loose teeth. Which reminded me, I must remember the Dentist’s visit on Monday! arrived and sorted out the medications. I noticed when I opened the new bag that some of the same medicines had shorter-dated packs at the bottom of the drawer. Of course, there were only a few that I could read the date on, thanks to the Cataracts. The carer soon got me sorted. Didn’t want any drinkies or nibbles and left leaving the waste bags in the hallway. I didn’t think to ask her to take them; a new gal is not up with the system yet. Nervous and weary, but nice enough, bless her. It was a bit colder this morning, a lot, in fact.
I took some photographicalisations from the kitchen window.
Then went on the computer – that was it; I spent around eight hours doing odeing and never got around to starting this actual blog!
Had a shower, shave and a sh… well, we’ll leave that bit. Not that it was a bit. A Constipation Konrad controlled session. Firm, painful and in the end, a little bloody, Harold’s Haemorrhoids suffered.
Then realised I’d not done the Health Checks yet. So I did!
Yet again, an overall lower than ever before result! Phenomenal
I started on an Ode for the top of this blog. And it took me hours to get done. Mind-Blanks! Kungleturds! My efforts were accompanied by Herbert’s mechanical and metal cacophony concert.
Nearly tea time now. It won’t be long until the evening carer is due. What happened to the time?
Mind you, every wee-wee was followed by , and Little Inchies a few times, which cost me a lot of lost time. I’m still tired, is slowing me down now. I’m struggling with using CorelDraw. The keyboard keys blend into each other. Grollocks!
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My daily walk through the tree copse mattered…
If I tried it nowadays, I’d be devoured…
By various ailments pains, again and again…
Can’t get up the hill or down in the subterranean…
Would it help me if I took some cocaine?
Or a few more Codeines for the pain?
I’d likely end up an addicted crackbrain?
Better not think of doing this then…
Should I be eating bread that’s multigrain?
I hope the cataract is done soon, my vision to regain…
Oh, dearie me, I need the Throne made of Porcelain…
Bloody Constipation Conrad; he’s barbaric!
I lost blood from the piles, trapped something in the seat of plastic!
The rock-hard evacuation nearly sent me ballistic!.
Sorry, I mustn’t be so melodramatic…
Little Inchies fungal lesion bled; it’s only miniaturistic,
It’s no use me being all nostalgic,
Or far-seeing and nostradamic,
And I’m not getting into a tizwas or panic…
Even with all my ailments, and now I’m osteoarthritic…
I intend to learn how to be optimistic,
Being depressed has been making me feel sick,
As do people who call me a prick…
For having such a tiny man-dick… Bullies, gangs, fiddling MPs, Doctors charlatanic…
I find these scumbags are lowlife, oxymoronic,
They concern, bother me, even if I’m thanatognomonic,
Dementia Doreen, toys with all things mnemic…
Dates, appointments, names, days… it could be hilaric…
But with me, there are other things to make me feel despotic,
Peed off, humiliated, and depressogenic…
I’ve forgotten what they are; because I’m a schmendrick!
Yet I used to be known as being hyperdynamic,
I’m so fat naturally; I’m not bulimic,
I don’t see the end of mankind as cataclysmic…
If there is a God, our actions must have made him sick…
If St Peter wants to send me back to earth again… Horrific!
One failure is enough for me; that would be so dramatic.
Unless he assures me this time, my man-worm will be pythonic!
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Turned the Computer off and thoughts of food developed. But there are not many choices fresh-wise, and I’m too tired and shaking to bother too much.
I decided first to take some close-up photos of the ankle and feet. Here they are on the left here. The left foot is getting worse, but the right one with the ulcer is far easier and better looking tonight.
The left toes and foot had lost a lot of fluid. The right one was still retaining a lot of water. Walking remains more like hobbling and a smidge risky when the PN wobbles and shakes come on while getting around the flat.
Ah, off to the wet room. A tough evacuation that almost brought tears to my eyes. Washed up, and I medicated poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids.
Then back to pondering on what to have to eat. Well, I was not interested in cooking, and the tiredness decided me to have a quick snack. A pot of pot noodles, with extra seasonings, added. Liquid smoke and BBQ sauce. A pot of instant potato with liquid salt, soya bacon pieces and more BBQ sauce. A few sad-looking slices of dry bread to dip into the noodles and wrap up some of the potatoes to make a sarnie out of. The picture looks terribly sparse, unappetising, a pathetic meal. That is because it was all these things!
Yet… maybe because of Sweet Morpheus’s determination that I will not get any sleep, combined with his success in doing this, I enjoyed the nosh. I think a Taste-Rating of 6.5/10 would not be over-gracious? Even though I fell asleep eating it! Woke and finished it off and drifted into the land of nod again. I think it must have been a deep one, cause I reckon I was dreaming I was sleeping… and great joy was floating in my mind, peaceful… ♫Oh, Susana♫ burst out from the door chime box six foot away in front of me. It jerked me awake, and Valerie came into the room, and instantly the tiredness hit me again. I’d only been sleeping for five minutes! I was hoping to stay in the recliner while Valerie gave me the medications, then I could nod off again when the gal had finished, but no! Valerie needed some medications, and I got up and hobbled into the kitchenette to get her some from the medicine drawer.
Valerie gave me the doses, and I had a little natter with her. She pointed out that my Stuttering-Stephanie habit was a lot worse tonight. I’d not noticed? Why I wondered? And stayed not knowing!) I can’t remember if I offered her any nibbles or not? I hope I did. I think I stayed in the chair as she left after I thanked her.
But there was no sleeping early tonight for me. I soon realised I’d not locked the door. So, what with the memory of the yobboes coming in at two in the morning still fresh in my mind, I had to get up and go to lock the door – Not a hard task, really… However, stubbing my toe on the way back against the clothes airer ensured a minor curse word was emitted, thus, cocking up any chance of getting to sleep early!
After an hour or so, I gave up and put a DVD on. Humph!
The moon landing was expensive in terms of costs and men dying…
But had to be done cause of Uri Gagarin…
Space race? The Russians were now leading,
First to the moon, the USA not conceding…
Conspiracists said the films were misleading,
Shadows in the wrong place, the flag was waving…
The trip took 109 hours, 42 minutes, launch to landing,
About the time it took me to get to see Dr Sanding…
Then she wasn’t there, more complex than a moon landing!. ———————————–
Inchcocks Diary
Approx 05:30 hours, I stirred back into life and promptly tumbled out of the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep-deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not working recliner. There I was, on my bum, with one leg on the swivel chair and the other bent awkwardly but somehow under the chair. And in a bit of a predicament! I stunned myself for a smidgeon. (Obvious to me that I’d been doing some tossing and turning and edged towards the front of the chair? Can’t recall any dreaming.) I could sense the wet warm flow of blood in the Protection pants, which would be either Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, or Harold’s Haemorrhoids, whichever or both, the need to get up and investigate, clean and medicate things was causing a bit of a panic in me. (I panic so well!) There was an urgency to my need to somehow get back up and onto my feet… In my sad, messy manoeuvring painfully, first back on the chair, then onto my feet, I stubbed my same, the same one twice, which with the swollen feet and toes was worse than usual. I slipped my arm off the side of the recliner, getting up. Hitting my chin on the corner arm. No time to mess about, though, and I got Metal Micky, and we hobbled to the wet room. Bit of good fortune here. It was only Harold’s Haemorrhoids that were bleeding. Thus it was far less painful to medicate than the lesion would have been. The toes and chin were enough to keep my attention. I did notice the vast improvement in the ankle ulcer, though, compared to Tuesday evening’s photo, this morning was much calmer and swollen looking. It must have been around an hour after waking that I started to think the day’s needs through.Food order to do, ask Meridian if they have sorted anything out with the Diabetes session. Get Richards’s treats sorted out. Got to… No, I’d better have a wee-wee first. And what a leak that was! Galore, and one of the longest wee-wees that I’ve ever taken! And they kept coming throughout the day!
The Blood Pressure sphygmomanometerisationing was yet another great set of results: SYS 44, DIA 62 and the Pulse, a smidgeon up, at 91 bpm! The body temperature had risen to an almost perfect figure, at 35.1°f. Interruption: The landline burst forth; it was a very hard-to-hear and understand lady (I think?), from the dentist’s surgery, on Mansfield Road. Reminding me of my appointment next. Plenty of time for me to forget it, though. I input the BP numbers into the NHS Work-it-out site. (Left graphic wot I sun) It came out the same as yesterday! Don’t know why I made a sad face on it? I got the computer on to finalise yesterday’s blog and found the SD car was reading again? I swiftly got the few, well, three photos from yesterday that I could not get on done. Then titivated the blog and felt a smidge smug, but what with my luck in waking up and thudding to the floor, I thought it best not to get too confident.
The lad was worn out, and I was his last call. Richard arrived, and I thanked him for getting me some help yesterday, and I flashed him my much better-looking ankles… Hehehe! He warned me that thunderstorms were forecast for this afternoon. I thought it was a lot cooler today. We had a little natter, too and froing, and a laugh or two. This is good then; when he’s not too tired, he can spend a little longer with me, chinwagging. Gave him some treats in thanks, and off he trotted, in much need of his bed.
I am walking much better this morning after the initial waking-up boo-boo! Not having to walk on the heels today shows how the swelling has gone down in the legs and feet.
Although the toes still look like baby ones. Hehe! And, the bruise under the chin has not given me any bother at all! Even Arthur Itis in the knees has calmed done.
♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chimed out from the door chime. It was neighbour Josie, returning Sunday’s crumb-covered tray and dishes from her meal. I’m not sure which of us is the worst, Hahaha! The poor gal didn’t look too well. I pointed the walking stick at my feet and said they were much better. Josie replied, “Yes, very good; I’ll try to…” Smiled and wandered back into her flat. I’m not sure who is the worst with Dementia and our lousy hearing. Hahaha! I tried to work out what she thought I had said but without success. Bless her ♥
Noise merchant Herbert from the flat above kicked off with his tap-tapping, the odd thud, and scuffing noises thrown in. He kept it u[ for hours on and off. He must have a special job lined up? Hello, I think he just dropped a box of tools. Ah, the drilling and grating noises have started now; he must be getting on with it, bless him. Back to the tap-tapping again…
I finally got the blog finished and posted off to WordPress. Went on the comments page. I had tons come in. But got them both answered. Then nipped on the WP Reader. Now it is time to get the ablutionalisationing tended to; and check Harolds Haemorrhoids, amongst other ailments. Hehehe! Back soon. Well, I hope to be back shortly. I’m back. And what a good session that was! Only one teeny-weeny cut shaving on the chin where I ‘Chin-Butted’ the arm of the chair first thing this morning getting back up from the floor after my tumble out of the chair. No toe-stubbing, no Dizzies, I walked into nothing either. I have a mini involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance while I was shaving, hence, the little nick. Had a wee-wee (it must have been number twelve of the day at least) and remembered what Carer Richard said when he was checking the use-by dates for me; “I’ve never seen yer with so little in yer fridge!”. So, I investigated and made an order for Iceland. They have no bottled water in stock either. So I ordered some low-cal lemonade. I must keep up with the drinking in this hot weather while the legs and feet retain so much fluid. Coming in the morning twixt 06:00 > 08:00hrs. As I started prepping the meal, I remembered the last Iceland delivery I’d had last week. The squashed bananas, the leaking bottle of liquid soap, short-dated yoghourt… and of course, there not having any of my beloved No Bull burgers or bread I ordered in stock. And the crap substitutions… I may have made a mistake here…
Had a tin of curried beans that I seasoned with the usual squid vinegar, malt vinegar and Vegan BBQ sauce. Put a part-baked loaf in the oven halfway through cooking. The beans and bread were excellent, but the veggie burgers were terrible; the crispy crumbs were not crisp. How clearly now, after making the order, one remembers one’s self-promise never to trust or use Iceland again! Being low on choices with the low stocks in the fridge, I decided to use up the crap and substituted it with Iceland bean burgers in crispy breadcrumbs. As instructed, I got my feet up on a chair and sat watching TV. I soon nodded off, but could I stay asleep? Not a chance!
When I gave up on sleep, I took a photograph of the ankle ulcer and feet, and they looked so much improved from how Tuesdays were. The toes remain a bit pudgy. The retained fluid, giving me rock-hard legs, was also reduced. . The ♫Oh, Susana♫ tune chimed out, and in walked Valerie. She was a little happier tonight. Got the medications sorted, and I gave her a can of cold orange Fanta from the fridge; she liked that. Val took the waste bags with her on her way out.
I settled down to watch the England Ladies Game v Spain. I’ve never been more proud of an England team since 1966! I wish could have been France we beat, though. That would have been the icing on the cake. We will have to play against Sweden or Belgium, if we get through, France will have to be conquered!
ODE TO SELF-IRRISION & DERISION
I no longer have inspiration and very little gumption,
Life for me is sinking into declension…
Dementia means I’ve little recent memory retention,
Yet sometimes recall things, to my stupefaction…
I’m waiting on the EENT to have an operation,
For my cataracts, called Phacoemulsification,
I persistently wee-wee; and have hypertension.
I’m almost deaf, yet have tintinnabulation?
Arthur Itis, Ankle ulcer, and fluid-filled legs, with many a contusion,
Peripheral Neuropathy, a mechanical ticker, destitution…
I think St Peter should give me restitution!
Should I have been born? Am I a substitution?
Was I meant to be a boy or girl? That’s the question…
Parents named Inchcock, during gestation…
With a man-tool the same size, did my prospect worsen?
Unfortunately, I can’t make past miseries unhappen.
At birth, Mother said, ‘I don’t want it; I was crestfallen…
No wonder, as a youngster, I was so sullen!
Slowly my resistance began to weaken…
I lived on lard sarnies and Iprobrufen…
I asked every adult I met for an adoption,
I ran away from home, I had no option…
I went for shelter from Auntie Gretchen,
She just threw me out of the kitchen!
The next day, I hobbled back home, downfallen…
I got in and spoke, hoping they would listen.
No one knew I’d gone; my life never started to glisten?
My developing years were misery and rotten…
Then Mother was freed from jail; she’d been forgotten…
Laughing and being happy was then verboten…
I left school at 14 and got a job baling cotton!.
Depressed, I considered becoming an anthropophaginian,
There was a week when my life seemed ambrosian!
Matilda was her name, an arithmetician,
Randy? No need to ask her for her permission!.
But she turned out to be a Pinoccohian,
Not only that but an absinthian,
I returned to Nottingham, working as a beautician.
———————————–
04:45hrs: I rose from a terrible night’s sleep, again full of jumping awakes, yet felt calm and unconcerned? I rose with relative ease from the c1968, £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep-deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-operational recliner. Almost on auto-pilot, I hobbled into the kitchen, put the kettle on, then took a strained, painful wee-wee, washed and made a mug of Glengettie Gold tea.
At this stage, the farcicality of yesterday’s hospital visit came back to my mind. Suddenly doing anything whatsoever lost its appeal. I got the computer on and went to the WordPress comments sections. I had the usual mass of communications on my latest blog to read and reply to. I did them both straight away.Then visited the WP Reader section. I did enjoy that. Checked the emails… I saw the promised Email from the Diabetes team confirming my joining the weekly sessions on a face-to-face basis; at first, remembering, this put me on a semi-high. Until I got to the location.
I didn’t realise that it was not at the Sherwood Social Centre. Where I was assured, it would be last year. Oh, no, (I should be so lucky!), it’s four miles away, in Bulwell! So, now I had to work out what buses I could get, hoping one would take me all the way from the flats. So, I set to searching Mr Google to find what was and wasn’t available. I’m afraid it wasn’t good news.
Due to Covid and lack of drivers, the service stops at Top Valley, not Bulwell! I looked at other options, but Dementia Doreen was not helping. I could get a bus down into Sherwood, then another to Bulwell, and return in the same route, but I’d have to remember the bus times, not be late etc., and that would test Doreen and me too much. I looked at the Email sent me again and sent a message. Explaining why I can’t get there and asking if there was any chance of the Sherwood Diabetes sessions opening. I had explained this to the Sherwood people, I can get there walking if necessary, getting back up the hill, it’d have to be a bus, but I reckon I would cope with that. Awaiting a reply from the gentleman. I’m getting all uptight again now! This investigation into the buses has cost me three hours! Why can’t I get through just one day without something going wrong?
Carer Joe came late on, and it was off to the Porcelain Throne as soon as the lad left with his cold drinkie from the fridge. Back to the Emails. Petal-Lisa had sent me a marathon. That took me over an hour to absorb and reply to. But it was a pleasure, and she had a little sleep recently, which cheered me up no end. Bless her! A treasure she be! ♥♥♥
Got back to sort more emails out, and Sister Jane rang me. We had a decent long chinwag, and a few smiles erupted. I had to cut it short, though; the Porcelain Throne activity needed tending to. Stinky, messy and painful. Humph!
Made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana.
And took some photos of the front views, starting with my much-missed visiting Tree-Copse in the bottom field. Boy, I do miss visiting it. Sob! Taking this picture of the front car parking on Chestnut Way, and spotted an ambulance below, at the front doors of my beloved Woodthorpe Court. I wondered if it might be Francis coming back from the hospital? I certainly hope so. I’ll get a move on with this blog, interruptions permitting, and go down to see if she’s in. I took a photo of the muggers-delight area to the left of the flats. Not many people around today? Cracked on with the top graphics and ode for this blog. I must get the ablutions done as well. A jolly good shave, shower and sh…, well never mind that. Hehehe! Back in a while, smelling all nice, hopefully uninjured, not bleeding, and in a happier frame of mind. TTFN! I’m back. Wait for this… Shaving…All good on the scrubbing up stakes! Not a single cut or nick! Ankle ulcer all calm, DVT veins have dived like submarines from the sea’s surface. The legs and feet did look a smidge like they were off of a cadaver, mind you. I started for a change in the body temperature. Which was more than decent at 34.3°c. It seems to be doing a lot better recently. For weeks it was so low, not now, though. I suppose the hot weather may have some effect on it? Or not. The Blood Pressure, as I believed I forecast yesterday, took a tumble. I think it was 166 on Friday night. Tonight a comfortable SYS 132. DIA 66, and Pulse a smidgeon low at 67bpm. I put the figures in the NHS check site and found I was out of the red altogether, down in the amber. This has never been as low for years! Should I adopt a Smug-Mode? I got the meal cooking and nipped into the wet room for a wee-wee. I hastened hobblingly to the kitchen to see if I’d left the hot water tap running. But no, I hadn’t? Came to wash my hands, and the hot water was cold? Well, it’s about 17:20, so it should be heating up now. Another mystery? I grabbed the Fuji camera to take a picture of the just served up on the tray evening nosh. I somehow managed tsk top take this rather natty photo of the balcony as I picked the camera up? Yet another mystery?. The last of the garden peas, the mushroom pattie and bread! But I did an order for Morrisons via Amazon for tomorrow. No good me having it on Monday, as I’ll be at the hospital, will I not? The Baxters, no, no, sorry, Heinz beetroot from Iceland was farcically hard! I bent the knife cutting into it. Then gave up cause it was too hard on the teeth.
Iceland has let me down a bit this week; apart from the beetroot, the squashed bruised bananas, No Vegan Icecream, No Vegan beefburgers, and the mushrooms that had a sell use-by-date for the day delivered. Oh, and the crushed bread!
Valerie arrived. Told her about the water being cold, and she rang NCH Repairs for me, bless her.
Ten minutes or so after Val left, I started regurgitating the food. Not good! Better get this posted while I can. TTFN.
Not in too much detail early one. I fear time was against me today, getting things sorted out for the trip to the EENT Hospital in the morning.
My first thought was I wanted to go back to sleep and had an extreme disinterest in getting up. But a wet warm sensation from the rear end encouraged me to clamber out of the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep-deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working recliner and off to the wet room tp check things out. En route further enlivened me. I messed and Pottered about getting confused and self-hassled. I stirred back into imitation life around 05:50hrs.
True to his promise, Carer Richard arrived dead on 06:00hrs. He was pleased that I knew which day it was. I remembered what it was that Jillie asked me to ask Richard! The Blood Pressure’s SIA caught me out at 166. The DIA at 98, both too high that by a fair bit. However, the pulse and body temperatures were honky-dory! I entered the figures into the NHS site to see what they make of it. Oh, I see; this was the result. Not a good start, methinks. You know, it’ll be back down in the morning. Or not, of course, there is always that possibility. Let’s face it, with my record, anything is possible. (As I hope you’ll read about later, when I was in the ambulance, Hehehe!) It was a humorous yet embarrassing incident that failed to bring any laughter to the ambulance man & woman, but things were not going well for them.
I made a start on this blog; to get as far as I could with it, just in case the operation was done and I’d incapacitated by blindness (It wasn’t done as it happens, but more about that later). Of course, the wee-wees started coming, weak sprinkly affairs, but each one was leaking before its time! So, on the third or fourth burst, I decided to get the ablutions done and replace the PPs with thicker, more efficient Tena ones. Even if they do stick out a little prominently under the trouser’s rear-end. I also stopped drinking any more spring water; I feared all the immanent waiting about at the hospital may produce leakages! Hehe! On with the scrubbing-up, I ventured. As you can see, there were a couple of nicks while shaving. One on the cheek, the other on the left ear-hole tab-hole. Nowt serious, though. I missed cleaning the teggies altogether – no idea why; Dementia Doreen I should blame. Then some niftily quick, which brought out more bleeding; From Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, and Harold’s Haemorrhoids. I had no trips or walking into anything or tumbles.
Still no sign of transport, and it’s getting late. So, as the beautiful morning view of the skies caught my eye, I thought I’d take a couple of shots of it with the Canon camera. I did as soon as I found out where I’d put the camera for the trip to the hospital. It took some finding, and as for the sunglasses, it’s evening now, and I still haven’t found them! Hehehe! I took another shot below, showing the parked cars on Chestnut Way. An incredible view, which I am pleased to have here at the flats. Strange that all the red vehicles seem to be avoiding this part of the site’s parking zones today? Haha! Whites, grey and blacks only? There’ll be a reason for this. I suppose. I made sure all the stuff was saved, and I shut down the computer. Then sat on a chair near the door so I didn’t miss the intercom if it rang… clever stuff, I thought? Well, for me! It’s set on the highest level available, but many folks have said they cannot hear it, so I’m not on my own. A clever move there on behalf of the Nottingham City Homes planners, ensuring that it is suitable for a block of flats with 70, 80, and 90+-year-olds living in it. Similar to the finger-strapping metal spring clips on the end balcony windows… Oh, and balcony slide doors, apart from the few that have fallen off the runners when used. Not only mine but others too. And they are cumbersome, too, I can assure you. Any injuries have been well hidden. You can see my mind wandering while waiting for the lift. Hehe!
Aha, the intercom buzzed. I’d everything ready so as not to keep them waiting. A dingle crewed chap, who told he was pleased I was all-prepared; because he’d been running late all morning. We picked up an elderly lady in Woodthorpe en route. We tried to have a natter in the back of the ambulance, but we struggled with hearing each other. Pleasant lady, going to the same place, EENT, I think.
I realised when I ferreted through my pockets and trolley that my plans had not gone to plan. I assume the sunglasses, bobble hat, and wristwatch were still on the Carer’s table back at the flat.
We were soon at the QMC EENT unit. The driver took me in first, explaining to the lady that on his own, he can only take in one person at a time. I bade farewell to the lady, wishing her all the best, and hobbled into the integral unit, led by the driver. Who ascertained that I had to go through to another block. Luckily he was still behind me when I got lost, and he corrected me, with a wry smile on his face, to the suitable unit. Haha! Where I waited to be seen.
A lady called out my name, and she took me through to yet another place, where I waited again. Minutes later, another lady fetched me and took me to her treatment room. Oh, yes, ladies are desperate for me! This happens all the time, you know…
I found out that the paperwork was wrong, and today was not as it said; Not the operation, but more assessments and tests on the eyes. All of which I had on my last appointment? Fair enough, there were many different eye tests, intending to make the plastic cornea a different size to match my misshaped one, which may prove too difficult, making the operation impossible. Well, that cheered me up, no-end! An hour or so after getting the tests and questions, the kind lady walked me back to the correct reception, and she told the lady I needed transporting. (She didn’t say where to, Pluto perhaps? Hahaha!.
ODE TO THE WAIT
I got seated and began the marathon wait for transport, It wasn’t a quick wait… not short, But I made up a game for fun and sport… Counting patients, who arrived after me, made me haught… Who went before me, making me fraught…
The place cleared; have they forgotten about me, I feared? After three hours, I felt a bit weird… I’m not brave, a stalwart, but a worrywart, No one around to ask or to talk… Nothing occurring to which I could claught… Any hopes of a lift of any sort, Four hours later, relief from worry was bought,
Two medics arrived for me; I was overwrought,
To the ambulance, I did cavort,
But pleasure in it, that I can report…
Getting home left me despondent and taut!
Inside the ambulance was a stretcher. The male of the pair of medics said: We’ve got to collect someone else from the gynaecology Wing over the road. I waited so long that it didn’t bother me. The stretcher was unfastened, and off they went to collect their patient. I thought it a good idea to phone Jillie on my mobile while on my own. So, I did! To tell her to thank you, my honeypot, but the operation wasn’t done, so no need for your kind offer of coming to stay with me, as I can still see. Things didn’t pan out as I had wished. I got through to Jillie, and damned Peripheral Pete gave me an Involuntary right-leg Idiopathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance routine! Despite my having had the seatbelt buckled, I managed somehow to end up on the floor of the ambulance. I fumbled my way back into the seat and slid the belt back on before the medics got back, which was ten minutes late, with a young lady on the stretcher. As they wheeled her into the ambulance, and she padded me on the right side, I gave her a welcoming smile and unintentional wink from the bad eye. Thankfully she gave me such a sweet smile back… then! Bless her! I think it was her appreciation for someone smiling and talking to her, not at her.
The crew could not get the stretcher holder mechanism to reset or lock. Well, that’s all they seemed interested in as they repeatedly banged and pushed the trolley into the mechanism. I swear they never thought about the patient getting knocked all over as they did it. I asked the lady if she was alright and got dirty looks from Mork & Mindy for it. This made a temporary bond between the gal and me, I think.
The crew spoke to we patients, which was not often apart from talking between themselves. ‘We’ll have to get help cause we can’t get the stretcher to lock’ (You don’t say?) One of them fetched another paramedic who arrived to have a look, and he clicked it in the first time! Much to my and the lady’s relief! We tried to chat on the way, but hearing her was difficult with the engine and traffic noise, but she seemed to be feeling better.
They dropped me off after a cock-up that may have been mine, I’m not sure. I mentioned when they were looking for which block I live in, the end one. Then proceeded to explain why they could get confused, Winchester Court, Winwood Court, and Woodthorpe Court; all three are called Windwood Heights. Then the female told the driver to go back. He lives in Winwood! Which he did. I had to embarrassingly (if I had told them wrongly). That he was right, I do live at the end one… Oh, dear, if looks could kill, I’d have been a goner!
I wished the lady on the stretcher well. And gladly told the driver I could manage from here, with a weak ‘Thanks’ added. And turned to wave at the lady, I don’t know if she could see me, but I wanted to. Hope she got home without any more hassle, Bless her cotton socks! ♥
Home Sweet Home! The hat and sunglasses were where I thought I’d left them. I only noticed them glancingly in my haste to avoid any embarrassment on my way to the wee-wee room. I failed! So a good start to my evening’s plans! I had a good clean-up, and I got some fresh PPs on. The Tena ones I was wearing had done a good reliable job in the containment stakes.
Made a brew and got the computer on to do this blog. And the landline burst forth. It was the Deep Vein Thrombosis Clinic nurse, wanting to know if the following Monday would be alright for them to call to take the blood test. Hah! I had to tell her that it was the Cataract appointment day. She will ring me back the day before she comes. Thinking about it afterwards, it might prove problematic if she is going to call Tuesday, wonnit? Just my luck!
The sunshine was still bright. I took a shot through the balcony windows. bootiful sky again!
Joe the Carer arrived, and I started to tell him about the farcical day. But, to avoid him falling to sleep, I cut it short. Hehehe! Gave him a cold bottle of Coots from the fridge, which he appreciated. A long hard slog of blogging ensued.
Around five hours or so, I did stop for the occasional wee-wee. Several in fact, it’s a miracle I got through all that time at the hospital without needing one – another mystery of Winwood Heights, the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodemons, apparitions, and other grotesqueries haunt the hallways and lobbies, searching for Inchcock, to create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare. Worry and confuse me! Crafty that! Cunningly this time, using a bit of good luck for me thrown in the mix. Veggie burgers (The last, I hope to get some on the next Morrison order, as Iceland were out of stock, Humph!) Tomatoes, garden peas, beetroot, gherkins, and that’s yer lot! A late, late supper instead of a dinner.
Belated food, then bed, and prayer that the day’s events don’t kick off a thought-storming session and stop me sleeping – PLEASE!
I stirred from my slumber, I’d had a dream, but could I remember, I checked to make sure I was sober… Nodded off again, I woke to discover,
Scribble on the notepad, needing to decipher.
The following facts are what I managed to gather…
Start of the dream, I looked out and got in a lather…
Ghosts and Goblins in the sky, but no bother…
Indeed I tried with them to have a blatherer…
Then did an instant maneuverer…
I was in the ground floor link corridor?
The ectoplasms, ghosts, got grotesquerer!
In walked animals, a skeleton, and a roboton!
Probably others too that I’ve forgotten!
Not the weirdest dream that I’ve begotten, Didn’t bother me; they did nowt rotten… Oh, the Grim Reaper, he looked sullen… One of the creatures looked like a wivern.
As I woke up, I was thunderstrucken, I fell out of the chair, hit my knee it got swollen, I took a Codeine for the pain to dullen…
As I woke up, I was thunderstrucken, I fell out of the chair, hit my knee it got swollen, Better make a start on the diary; it’s gone eleven!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Tuesday 12th July 2022
So, a modicum of concentration and determination developed, and I motored on with the Blood Pressure utilised the A&D Medical Supplies, made in Chinese sphygmomanometer. Then did the body temperature. All the results were of an acceptable standard this jolly Tuesday morning. In particular, the temperature and pulse are almost within the set result target ranges. Then after having a natter with the family, nada Lillie the Lamb checking on my notepad and keeping herself up to date, it is time to get the ablutions done.
I stripped off (I do a lot of that, you know) and made my way to the wet room… where I easily and simultaneously stubbed my toe on Sock Glide Glenda as I was taking the hearing aids out and dropped one and out popped the battery. With cataracts, I could not follow the multi-circular route taken as the battery spun around. I’ve got plenty of batteries to use, but it’s so annoying when one escapes. Hehe! Things went well enough after that for a while. The teeth (painful), then shaving (only one cut!) were completed, showering and on to the drying off… Ah, a slight chance of luck now!
The Wee-weeing sessions restarted and were uncomfortable. The pants that had been half on at the time of the Accifauxpa were mostly blood-red in seconds! They were all of the WUNT (Weak-Unwilling-Negligible Trickling) style. But this was nothing compared to what the state Peripheral Pete’s caused me! I’d done the medicationalisationings and was getting into a new pair of protection Pants, and off went the right leg on the Neuropathic dance routine! A bit frisky this one was, and I last my balance and hot my newly washed and medicated wedding tackle against the sink edge.
I realised later that I had also knocked out another tooth, bruised the eye slightly, and somehow, Harold’s Haemorrhoids were leaking too! It took me ages to get everything sorted out; a good job that the carer was a little late. I was cleaning up the wet room mess I’d made when I realised there were some, just a few new spots of blood on the floor? I must have caught the scab on the burn mark on the knuckles. But it was nothing like the blood for Harolds Haemorrhoids, the tooth or fungal lesion: they were all the usual deep red type. This was almost pink… I think? It stopped of its own accord a minute or so later. Worra Day!
Carer Richard arrived, and he was in a rush. Rich was coughing a lot; I hope he’ll be alright. He’s got a diabetes session to attend this morning, I reckon he said. Wished him all the bestest as he left with some treats; then, I had a closer look at the ankle’s ulcers. Well, what a surprise, they haven’t looked this calm in months. I’ve forgotten the rest of the ditty? Ah-well, win some, lose some…
After what seemed an aeon, I got on with the blogging. I meant to say, earlier on, about 02:00hrs, (Yes, Sweet Morpheus is not pleased with me! I looked at the calendar, and I was sure I’d ordered an Iceline order to come today. So I checked on the website. It told me I had no orders, so I got on the J Sainsbury site and made an order with them for tomorrow.
You see, this Friday, I have the first Cataract operation, so I will be virtually blind afterwards, then I’ve got to go back for an examination to see if it’s worked okay. So, I intend to get the cupboards and fridge filled up before I leave cause there is a chance they told Jillie when she phoned them that I may be kept in, in the event any Whoopsiedangleplops during the operation. Then a while later, I got a message on my G6⅘ths Ultra-modern mobile phone. It was from Iceland informing me that my delivery that they told me was not ordered), will be delivered shortly? Now, I’ve got a J Sainsbury order coming tomorrow as well! Could things get worse? Well, yes, and they did! Humph! The products were in liners, not carrier bags…
Iceland had No Vegan beefburgers, no milk roll bread (sent a substitute loaf), Bananas soft and three of the five burst open; the pot of No-Bull vegan ice cream was in liquid form, a right mess. To clean up! – You would not believe the state of the food! The strawberries were squashed, the biscuits in crumbs and one of the packets of AAA batteries card and plastic retainer shell was off; it was never seen – I just collected the eight batteries from the depths of the wet food. This was one of the worst deliveries I’ve ever had from them.
Still, on the bright side, I’ve got food galore in the fridge; I’ve probably not got room for the Sainsbury’s stuff to get them in on Thursday. However, the ice cream will likely take months to harden enough to eat. I suppose I could drink it? Both pots!
Oh, and the bananas tasted okay, just a shame that I paid for five and only two were edible, and they were bruised inside, and I had to watch what I was eating. Oh, never mind! The lid on the jar of beetroot was loose, and…
At long last, I got onto the blogging, and the door-chime burst forth. It was Josie returning Sunday’s utensils from her meal. As I took the tray and things from her, I told her I had some strawberries for her, asking her to hang on while I fetched them. When I returned to the door with the fruits, Josie had gone back into her flat.
I’m not sure which of us is worse than the other, she or me, for hearing, and we both guess at what is being said, I think sometimes. Hahaha!
I told her about my going into the hospital to have my cataracts seen on Friday and then Monday for a follow-up. Then I said I’ll see if see enough to do you a meal or not come Sunday. But I expect not. She laughed and… I think anyway, “Yes, I’ll be in for lunch on Sunday…” Of course, I could have misheard her; she definitely misheard me… Hahaha! As she ook the Strawberries, she said she felt guilty about me making the fodder every Sunday. I said it was my pleasure… “Can I get some bananas for you at the weekend?” I put my thumbs up and smiled…
Int life great when yer gerowd? Har-har!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I was wondering about my hypertension…
Is it cause Neil Kinnock is a distant relation? Or cause I’m still waiting for the Vicar’s confirmation…
Or my habit of losing track and digression?
Why do I want the go through teleportation?
Doctors can’t cure my dying neurotransmissions,
Leaving me forever with derision & indecision…
Am I too soft, believing in nonaggression?
I’m full of fear and misapprehension,
I’d love to free myself of my mental tension…
Is the answer to commit self-decommission?
Do I need some physiological remission?
Can’t go on like this; I must make a decision…
I can’t cope with mental corrosion, confusion,
Be positive, become more Sherlock Holmesian,
Drugs, are they the answer, but I’ve an aversion…
Maybe I’ll try some Columbian?
Do I even deserve help? Or vilification?
