♥ Cinematical TFZers ♥
Tuesday 19th January 2021
Maori: Turei 19 o Hanuere 2021
00:30hrs: The demand for a wee-wee welcomed me as I woke up. I bravely forced my unfortunately ever-heavier stomached body from the comfort of the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, sickeningly-beige-coloured, rickety, uncomfortable, recliner. Up on to my feet. I caught my balance, visited the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket). I had an LPPP (Long-Powerful-Persistent-Peeing) session), followed by a period of CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribbling), that surprisingly, lasting for minutes!
I made a brew and washed the pots from last night that I’d left to soak.
Took a photo of the morning view, not a good one, now the Nikon camera has conked-out, I have to use the Canon camera, which doesn’t take night shots well. And then started updating the Monday blog.
And got it completed in record time, I think. NN (Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters) and SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley), were the only ailments that gave me any problems, they were both only intermittent, and I coped amazingly well. To start with, thus, my Smug-Mode was engaged for a while. I do hope they still behave when I have to take the shave!
The six wee-wees taken during the updating were of the WUNT (Weak-Unwilling-Negligible-Trickling) style, and the CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribbling), but only a few drops and much weaker than the first one.
All done, I posted off the diary. Sent the Email links. Pinterested a couple of snaps. And delved into Facebook updating…
This was when the Smug-Mode died. NN, SSS and even Neuropthy Pete gave me a sat-down right leg dance! With the c1962 cabinet where I was seated on the computer, which still has some heavy wooden doors. I involuntarily tested their sturditity with my shin, ankle and knee a few times. Which set of CCP (Cathy’s Cartilage Protella) hurting somewhat. That bit of good luck didn’t last long! But at least I got the updating done with relative ease, so, I’m not moaning… much, anyway! Hehehe!
After the Facebooking was done, I went on the WP comments, then over to the WordPress Reader section.
Each of the four wee-wees taken during the Facebooking updating was of the WUNT (Weak-Unwilling-Negligible-Trickling) style again, but the CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribbling) was far less.
Ah, the joys and mysteries of an ageing bladder! Hehe!
The morning summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived, and I poddled to the wet-room. It was almost an exact repeat of yesterdays messy evacuation, but this time, with a decent amount of pain as the bale of straw looking torpedo gained its freedom. (It felt about the same size too!) Several manual refills of the tank were needed to clear the product, and some BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) annoying bending to clean things up. After cleaning up the room and myself, I generously stayed a lot of air freshener in the wet room, before leaving. The silver-lining search: At least I didn’t walk into the door frame going in or out. No, Dizzy Dennis, Balance-Loss-Brian, or tumble visits. It could have a worse session!
I was now nothing like I was when I got up this morning! The ailments were gathering, giving me grief, and I decided to take an extra pain-killer, with the morning medications, and make a brew of Glengettie. Which, I did.
After taking the medications, I carried out the Health Checks. Starting with the BP on the Chinese manufactured Boot’s Sphygmomanometer. The SYS had come down from 184 to 170, and the Pulse from Sundays high of 91, yesterdays 66, now 75.
The Amazon bought, (for a very reasonable cost of £29), Chinese made Harpin Xian Di contactless thermometer reading was of 36.9°c. It was up a smidge, but it is still in the green on the reading, so nae bother there to fret about at all.
I tried to get a graphic or two done on CorelDraw before it was time for the ablutioning to be done.
As I went into the hallway en route to the wet-room, some idiot had left the mop and bucket in the hallway. Ahem! There followed a toe-stubbing right on the metal clasp of the wringer-outerer, at the bottom! It was a singularly painful one! Of course, I didn’t swear, or anything like that, or call myself ‘a stupid, thick ♫%£+ing idiot, either! Ahuh! I had a little talking to and admonishing myself, and swore to be more careful in future. Don’t know why I bothered really!
I got on with the shaving, pretty pleased with timing for once. ‘The Goon Show’ was about to start, on Radio Four-Extra, Grrreat!
As I was getting the shaving tackle off of the trolley, I… wait for it… stubbed my toe against the wheel! Silver-lining: it was a different toe, and not so keen as the first one! My language was all calm, not self-depreciative, I did not spit, and there was none-cursing. Ahem! I just plodded on.
The shaving had only a few dropsies, and just the one, I say, One, tiny nick. I did a decent job with the new Bic razors, too. , then I thought it best to abandon it, with things seeming to be on a run of bad luck.
Moved into the shower, after cleaning another of the multitude of black spots off of the floor. (I do a little patch each time I shower, Gawd I’m a good lad, I am at times!) I had a super-shower, a good scrub-up, used the brush and loofah! No banging into the grab bars, Dizzy Dennis’s, Loss of Balance Bernards!
The pins, hooves and tootsies looked in fine form. I dried off and got the medicationing done. Olive-oiled the ear holes. Next, I creamed the furuncle and carefully Germoloided Harold’s Haemorrhoids. They did sting bit! Then Phorpain gelled Arthur Itis’s and Cathy Cartilage’s knees. Put the eye drops in. Nasal hygiene sprayed the nostrils. Cleaned the spectacles, decoked the hearing aids and checked the batteries… It’s a job and a half every day! There is another dollop of advice for the whippersnappers. About what they might expect when they are growing old! Hahaha!
I got the PP’s on and exited the wet room. To go and get some clothes on. As I was struggling into the trouser, I realised I had not done my teeth cleaning!
I returned to the wet room, giving myself a third toe-stubbing on the mop bucket, that I had failed to move on the first stubbing! Somehow, this had a relaxing effect on me. The third stubbing of the day, surely that’ll be it, they say things happen in threes?
Got the teeth cleaned without too much bother. Then I got some waste bags made up and, and along with the masses of recycling bags and carton, I filled up the trolley and box.
This could be dodgy, I thought, getting the trolley to the chute and then down the lift to the caretakers’ bins, with any spillage, dropsies or other calamities!
I had a bit of bother getting the badly-balanced three-wheeler trolley out of the door into the lift’s lobby, and even more, bother getting it through into the lift lobby.
But being the confident, young, strong, capable stalwart that I am, I pressed on and got to the waste chute-room without the slightest bit of bother Ahem! Alright then, I got in trapped a finger in the iron chute lid, dropped three bags, clouted my head against the wall, when going down to pick one of the bags up. And coming back out, the left-hand knuckle got a bash against the door frame.
I got in a lift, and as I exited on the ground floor, the route to the main lobby door was blocked by signed and cones from the workmen who were doing the upgrading work. Nae bother for me, I used the fire exit out to the bin area. Robert, the caretaker, was not there, he can’t always be, he’s other jobs all over the flats. I dropped the box’s and bags where the bins usually are, but not today.
I hobbled along Chestnut Way in the drizzle, to the ILC’s (Independent Living Coordinators) Interrogation and holding cell office.
As I got into the Winwood Court foyer, a sharp dizzy-spell nearly had me over! It left me a little confused and worried afterwards. It only lasted about 30 seconds, but I had to wait a while before moving on. What next! Took this snap of inside Winwood Court.
No lights were seen in the office, so I retreated, back out in the light drizzle, and made my way back towards Woodthorpe Court. I heard a voice, and I turned around, it was ILC, Desk Top Dancer, Warden Deana calling me from the Holding Cells window. I returned to the office. She asked if I knocked on the door, but I could not remember the dizzy coming on. We had a distanced natter, Deana, Warden and Ice-skating champion Warden Julie, and I.
I departed, and the drizzle had stopped as I limped along.
Welsh William passed on his way to the bus stop. Not seen him for about three months now, but I don’t go out on the bus nowadays, of course. Jealous? Me? Yes!
I got back inside the building via the caretaker fire door.
Not a soul in sight, I reckon the working lads must have been on their tea-break.
I got through the passage and into the lift lobby.
The way is still blocked off, no access to the front door. The chaps seem to be making some headway in the upgrading. No rush, we’ve had it for four years now, I think… definitely three. Finding a protected Pipistrelle bat, then the holidays, then the Coronavirus, it must have been a nightmare for Nottingham City Homes. Well, some of the residents ain’t too happy about it. But it can’t be helped. Hehe!
As I got up to the floor, I met Robert, the caretaker, with few words.
Got in the flat, I put the trolley away, and finished washing the Manufactured in Pakistan, long-sleeved shirt, all done, wrung and hung to dry.
I got the photos sorted and used then to update this blog. It dawned on me then, I haven’t had a wee-wee for over two hours? Confusing!
I was getting in a pickle with the food deliveries, and I made an order for next Monday from Iceland. 06:00 > 08:00hrs.
Then had a look at the latest Coronavirus figures I could find, for Nottingham. Which showed a slight bit of optimism at least, a drop in numbers I thought. Then I came across this report, about where I live in Sherwood. This was not good! Yet still, people go out every day on the buses.
I’d love to go out shopping, but it wouldn’t be fair to others.
I pressed on with the updating of this diary. It is hard work with Nicodemus and SSS, both giving me jerks and making me make so many errors repeatedly.
I made a brew… still no more wee-wees?
The rain had stopped all together now, but the view when I took these photographs, from the thick-framed, hard to get at to clean, light and view-blocking kitchen window, was looking decidedly somewhat threatening.
I was getting so tired now, and I thought about what to have for a nosh. Making my mind up can sometimes be an impossibility, so quisquous. I’ll check the use-by dates, then have the shortest, methinks.
The cooked smokey bacon had the shortest date on it. So I got a carton of chopped tomatoes, with some added basil oregano and sea salt. Warmed up the fruit and juice, and added the bacon. I think I may have put a little too much basil in, but I still enjoyed it—a flavour-rating of 7½/10. I had the last of the bread with it, but I hope some more will be delivered in the morning from Iceland.
I found some scribbled notes on the pad I was using to recall thing to put on here in the morning. But at this moment in writing, I’m blown if I can decipher it. Maybe, perchance a Doctor might read this, and can help me out? Hehehe!
I got the TV on and found a Sherlock Holmes episode showing. Ah, that’ll do me! I thought.