Monday 13th January 2020
Italiano: Lunedì 13 Gennaio 2020
22:20hrs: I stirred into imitation life instantly panicking! I was being bombarded with worries, concerns and fear all at the same time it seemed.
- Mo’s funeral to attend, and I hope to enjoy saying my farewells to her, the biggest concern perhaps; for my travelling there in a taxi, means I cannot take the walker with me, and do not feel too confident in using the walking stick.
- I’m also fearing the affected right leg having a Neuropathic Schuhplattler flailing-about dance.
- The biggest worry is if I fall asleep at the Service! I have often so regularly nodded-off unintentionally: on buses, hospital and surgery waiting rooms, even stood up one time.
- Then there’s the Bank Manager who needs to see me! How can I get to the branch as requested? Time is the killer. Tuesday I have the Medicine Team and blood nurse coming to see me.
- I have no daily prescription medications left at all now. How can I get to the chemist to find out what’s going on?
- Then there’s the bleeding between my legs. And a list as long as the Magna Carta I want to discuss with the Doctor…
I’m not in good shape mentally at all. I do want anything to disturb or bother my devotions and cheerios for Mo.
Eventually, giving up on finding out what I can do to ease the situation, and ended up deciding I need help. Huh! I’ve been through this before, there is none available. Perhaps the Samaritans can help? Humph!
I was so annoyed at myself for thinking like this. I tried to put things other than getting to Mo’s funeral, get that over and enjoyed, then try to get the other stuff sorted. I might try to ask my ILC Warden Deana if she can help by phoning the Bank, no, that will be too early – Crap! If she can call the chemist for me, and the doctors, I will try to get to see her this morning before the taxi arrives, but time will be tight… everything seems against me! I’m getting even more despondent than when I woke up!
I searched my muddled brain for a glimmer of hope somewhere and realised that if I can’t get the medications, then there’s no point in worrying about the bank. ‘Shudder, going bonkers here!’ HELP!
The need for the Porcelain Throne arrived, blessedly! I forced my way painfully out of the £300 second-hand recliner, Arthur Itis letting me know he was there, got on my feet, grabbed the stick and off to the wet room. Well, a surprisingly acceptable session. No bleeding from the rear end, or Little Inchies fungal lesion, and far less to be evacuated.
I got in the kitchen, but of course, there were no blisters of medications available for me to take. So I rooted through the medical drawer in search of any old tablets to take. I had plenty of Warfarin, some paracetamol and found some old Simvastin and Ramipril that I took, but they were both well out of date, but still, what 
choice did I have. I found two beta-blockers that were even more out of use-by-date and took one.
Not the best of situations. I’m worried about myself now, Hehehe! Is there any help to be had? HELP!
I took a photo from the kitchen window, almost mechanically. A view showing the lights going down Winchester Street.
I got updating yesterday’s blog. It took a while, cause bothe Saccades Sandra and the fingers and right-side neurotransmitter transmissions to the brain were playing up, and typing was an ever-correcting nightmare. But I got there in the end and posted off the diary.
After going on the WordPress Reader, putting some photos on Pinterest and going on the TFZer Facebook, I needed to return for the third visit to the Porcelain Throne! This time it was so different. A small deposit, much bleeding from Harold Haemorrhoid and Little Inchies Lesion. Not so good! Had a clean-up and medicalisationing session, and made another mug of tea.
Started this post going up to here. Then had to make some graphics up on CorelDraw for later use. I even got a template up ready for tomorrow.
I got the Bank, and Chemist number, just in case for Deana when I go down.
Then the stand-up ablutions tended to. Again there were a good few dropsies, cuts, bleeding and a couple of knocks when the peripheral neuralgia gave me an energetic involuntary performance of a Neuropathic Schuhplattler, flail-about dance! I’d say the Sock-Glide struggle was a draw. A couple of little nicks shaving. After the washing was all done, I set about applying Daktacort, Germoloid, Savlon, Corticosteroid, Varesil creams and Fenbid-Forte gel. Eye-wash, nasal-unblocker and Saccades Sandra spray. Good job I started the scrub-up earlier than usual!
I got the handwashing done and hung to dry. The new long-sleeved brown t-shit was washed for the first time – and it is now black! Still, it is thicker and warmer, although far shorter than the expensive one. Maybe if I’d ordered black shirts, they might have turned brown when I washed them? Hehehe! The delights of Amazon, eh!
I got the taxi monies in the pocket with my super G8 mobile. Treats put in the trolley and made my way down with the hopes of Deana being able to assist me with my problems of the bank, and the prescriptions. Or rather lack-of medications, by phone for me, so I do not mishear, anything said.
I took the black bags to the waste chute on the way down. In the lift, to the ground floor, thought the link passage swipe door and along to the end and the Independent Living Coordinators holding and interrogation office. Dropped off the box and knocked on the door, no answer. So, back up to get my coat on, but I forgot to put my hearing aids in. I decided to go back up again, to drop off the trolley and put in the aids, then. This I did, and down again.
There was no reply to my knocking, so I wandered around a bit in the foyer. Angela and Roy came along, and I nattered to them, and tried the door again, this time, it was answered. I told Pole-Dancer, Warden and ILC of my problems. She asked for more details and gave both the Bank and the Chemist a ring, but neither were answering, too early I suppose. With my going Mo’s funeral, ask if the chemist could leave any medications here in the office. That is if he came out while I was here. But no, the girls would be at other flats on stand-by duty to cover for holidays. Said she’d ring them later. So, I’m none the wiser if I will be getting the medications or I’ll just have to snuff-it, mainly due to having no Bisoprolol (Beta-blockers), Simvastatin or Codeine left. Is no one bothered? Silly question, of course, they aren’t! I’m such a fool!
I was on my way back upstairs, when Gaynor appeared, sorting out the taxi and passengers for the trip to Mo’s Do! She said there was no time to go back for the hearing aids as the mini-cab was due any minute. I must have misread the sign on the board, I thought it was for 09:25hrs. As I said, I’m such a fool! So I stayed down with the others.
We went outside to wait, but the taxi was late coming. We were all under the control of Gaynor ♥. He looked after us and got us safely to the parlour. I took a few pictures while we waited outside.
Coddled by Gaynor (I liked that!) we arrived at the funeral parlour and had timed it to perfection. Many other tenants were in attendance with Mo’s family members.
Once inside, the remembrance started. But I could not hear a single word, but this was good. For it let me cast my mind back to memories I was lucky enough to share with Mo at the flats, without hindrance. A personal thing. Her choice of music was perfect! ‘Elvis, The Wonder of You’. And Abba’s ‘Dancing Queen’. Perfick!
As soon as the whole thing was over, it went so quickly, and I felt good. As we got in the taxi (I was nurtured and fitted in the seat belt by Gaynor), my mind started to fret over the medications again. The talk was light-hearted, with mentions of sadness for Mo’s departure, no not morbidly.
When we arrived back at Winwood Court, the two gals dropped me of (I was assisted out of the taxi by Gaynor!) and shot off to the Sherwood for the drinkies. I had to make my way to the ILCs office to try and find out what had taken place concerning the pharmacist. But no one was in, they had probably gone to the ST Anns block already. My stomach churned a bit with frustration and not knowing if the prescriptions will be coming today or not! Off course, Deana may have tried to ring me, but we all turned off our mobiles for Mo’s service of course. Then again, she (Deana) is a busy gal.
So, I walked back again to the Woodthorpe Court and up into the flat. No messages or notes in the door about anything. My heart sank a little. The inconscient fretting grew stronger, as less and less time would be available for any corrective attempts if the stuff isn’t going to arrive! More natural to just pass-away, in my sleep, I hope!
I got the mobile on charging-up. Then I could not find the longer one of the two wooden walking sticks? I recall using it when I took the first load of black bags to the chute. But surely I would not have walked back without it, I couldn’t have? Could I?
With me having adopted a Panic-Mood-Mode, even then, I have the two other sticks, no need to have fretted. But I found myself worrying, and got the other wooden stick and went to look in the rubbish-chute room, in case I had left it in there, which I knew I wouldn’t have, but still hobbled to check it out! Sanity Alert! (Klaxon sounding in my head)
I could not believe how calm and accepting I felt while I was out, and now I’ve turned back into a pessimist, misanthrope and depressed-worryguts again! I hate myself when this Quick-Change for the worse happens! Have to put up with though, until I hopefully hear something positive from the chemist and or Bank. If I don’t, well, it doesn’t stand thinking about. HELP!
I started up update this blog. The goodbye to Mo and kind help from Gaynor was a pleasure to recall and write about, but when I got back to the anxieties of the unknown factors from the chemist stuff, it was hard, frustrating, error-ridden and depressing.
I put the kettle on to make a brew. And split some hot water over me pouring out the tea. A sort of acceptance of failure, combined with guilt, meant I didn’t even swear or jump really. I may have said to myself; ‘What d’you expect, good luck, help? Idiot!’
I slowly, calmly got the Savlon cream from the wet-room and cold-watered the hand before applying the cream. Then, Shaking Shaun arrived, (As if to teach me a lesson), and I dropped the bloody tube, straight down the toilet, Splosh! It never touched the sides on its way down! I hope this querulous-neurosis, mental or psychological agitation, derangement or whatever, is only temporary! Humph!
I took three pictures of the brew while making the second cuppa, I’ve called the three of them, Nottinghamian’s Close-knit Community.
I called at Josie’s flat to give her the Limoncello I forgot to provide her with Sunday’s meal. But there was no answer, so I returned it to the fridge. Then made a brew again and got on with this post once more.
I’ll nip down to see if Deana is available again, and has any news from the chemists for me. Hello, it’s gone awfully dark outside suddenly. Ah, the rain is drizzling.
Ah-well, off I go. Deana not there. Not answering her mobile. I’ve no chance of getting anything sorted now. Grumble-Sodit-Blast! – Crabs and Grobblecraps!!!
Got the nosh ready. I should have enjoyed it, but with the worry over the medications, I didn’t. Rating 5/0.
Put thing to soak in the bowl. Moved the handwashing, the new ‘was-brown-now-black long-sleeved t-shirt was still wet. Put in on the airer.
I did my best to stay awake, watched telly, any programme that had subtitles, cause I didn’t want to miss hearing the intercom or door in case the medications arrived late. Huh, they didn’t come!
I even got up and had another search around in case I did have another blister-pack week that had fallen behind the stack of drawers. But there was none there. Eventually, I fell asleep, the worries of the day had gone for a while anyway.
A few hours later, the door chimes woke me from my half-sleep, I struggled to my feet and wobbled to answer it. Thinking at last! The tablets had arrived… but no! It was Josie returning her plate tray etc. to me from her Sunday meal. I’d asked her not to in case of waking me, but obviously, the gal had forgotten about this. I’m not sure what we said, being half-awake, but feel we chattered.
Tray and things taken to the kitchen, and I returned to the recliner, I wanted, now I had been woken, to stay awake longer, just in case the medications did arrive. But couldn’t.
They didn’t, of course!
As soon as I pressed the power button, the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived, urgently! Again, it was a close call getting there in time, and what a session this was! Bloody, messy and most uncomfortable.
l be sat on the Throne now if I had! Certain areas needed sanitising and medicating, with TLC! Had a wash and back to make the brew. 
Then made the brew and took the medications. 
me some hassle. Duodenal Donald was stabbing at me. And I ha
was an even-closer shave to making it to the seat in time! I took a very poor, although I didn’t realise it at the time, snap of the knees. With Arthur Itis giving me such bother, I expected they would be all bloated and warped, but no, they seemed okay to me? Hey-ho!
I was suddenly hungering and hankering for something to eat for brekkers. I made a mug of Thompsons best tea and had a packet of salt & vinegar Chipsticks, the last jam tart and a bar of orange club biscuit! Followed with a few cashew nuts. But not a lot! 
And I was doing well until I got into the three flats hallway and a visit from Dizzy Dennis was suffered. I didn’t go down or anything dangerous, but I did drop the bag of empty glass jars and bottles! None broke either, but the noise they made, has most likely made me as popular with the other tenants, as Nigel Farage would be at the Liberal Party Conference! Humph! 
quietly uttered few words of an intemperate nature. I also noted while in the shower, (apart from not, I say Not, dropping the soap or showerhead), that the tiles on the wall were getting a tad grimy looking. 
Still, Josie’s nosh to be prepared yet. How can one go from so high to so low in an instant? I’d better make a start. 
were still there? I baked on smoked haddock-cheese and potato rissole a little longer today. Put some of the Tuna with mayonnaise and sweetcorn on for another trial for her. Sliced tomato, mushrooms and garden peas. A can of Gin & Tonic, and a limoncello dessert top round it off. Makes it a bit of a change for her to try. I hope she likes the new stuff. I delivered it spot on the usual time, as anyone who is a personal chef should do. Hehe! 
I got back inside, and Shaking Shaun had a go at me. Left me in a bit of a dodgy condition as I plated my own nosh, Dizzy Dennis joined in the ‘Let’s-get-at-Inchcock’ session. 
With my concentration so bad at the moment, all I need is any of the following to kick-off: Saccades Sandra, Dizzy Dennis, Shaking Shaun or Neuropathic Nigel’s neurotransmitter failure to start, and it may never get finished. My Koyaanisqatsi, lack of proper education and knaifatic upbringing is handicap enough on there own, without the unwanted or asked for ailments helping. Humph! 
I made a start on the updating as soon as I’d had made a tasty cuppa of Glennghettie tea, wash and took the medications. 
Got the nosh sorted. The place looked like a battleground by the time I’d got it served up. Dropped saucepan, spilt over bowel, scattered garden peas, blood from cutting the finger, crumbs… Humph! 
Washed the pots and did the handwashing.
Then off to the kitchen, where the ‘Hum’ was distinctly louder. I took the medications and made a brew. Then snapped this shot from the light & view-blocking, finger trapping new window. No moon was showing this morning, and worryingly it was drizzling and windy out there today. Mmm! 
The sock-glide altercation was the most disturbing. I knocked it off of the seat, and it landed on the freshly stubbed on the metal support bar toe! Which left me in pain for the rest of the day. 
I got to the self-serve tills, and the lady put the things through for me, bless her. I was soon out and back on Upper Parliament Street. I tried the camera, and it took this picture first press of the button! It looks like what it was, dark, damp and depressing. Haha! 
I made my way to and down Clumber Street and arrived at the EE shop. But it was not open yet. So I hobbled, balancing the bag on the trolley with aplomb and style, I walked back up to the Victoria Centre (Mall), deciding to go to Tesco, to get some more treats for the Royal Family. And perhaps see if I can get a cheap camera that runs off of standard batteries. I made my way through the centre to Tesco and bought them some seaweed, puff pastry fingers and got myself some liquid soapflakes. Paid the lady, resorted the bags on the trolley, and walked back toward the top entrance. 
The Highnesses seemed happy enough to allow my standing up during the visit. Well, it saved any germs or dirt getting on the chair from my trousers! 
Now, the 40 bus was 25 minutes to wait for. I hobbled down Queen Street to the slab square. I took a snap of the Council House, showing the clock above Little John’s bell. Amazed that the battery let me make the picture, and it came out decent? I’m confused about this, I hope the camera is not going wrong.
brakes. I got off on Winchester Street, a kind chap monitored me getting off, in case any help was needed. 
The walk up to the flats had never been more uncomfortable. Just the feet and Arthur Itis’s knees were bothering me but on a grand scale! Hehe! The mysteries of the camera! The dead battery, according to the message on the screen, it still let me take two more photographs on Chestnut Walk? The colouring was nothing like what it was to the naked eye, though. 
The meal was enjoyable, despite
Unfortunately, en route, I tripped on the curled up bit of carpet edging, lost my balance, and ended up on the floor, via the electric fireplace and the clothes dryer – and squashing the wooden walking stick in my rib-cage! But nonetheless, the need for the Porcelain Throne prevented any self-pity or rolling around in agony. The fear of an accidental release was too intense for me to mope! I rose like a right-hero (well I thought so), with the assistance of the solid recliner arm, and continued on my way for the evacuation. 
I noticed after cleaning up, that the difference in the size of the legs, was more marked as well. They appeared really odd to me. And much paler than of late, but less pot-marked. I assume the odd mark above the knee was from the earlier Whoopsiedangleplop.
I had to stop doing the post, so I could get the ablutions done before the Ocado delivery came. The dropsies were not no worse than normal, only two little cuts shaving. 
I took another shot of them in case the first one had got warped somehow or other. The mark on the knee was a bit tender when I pressed it. So I suspect it is just a welt or bruise coming up. 
Glegettie Gold tea. Superb!
I said a thank you, but I don’t think he heard me properly. 
The King roasted cheese cashews nuts, must have been expensive? I’ll look up the price of them up on the web. Crickey, I paid £3.30 for 120g of them! How much does that make them for a pound? Never mind, I can’t work that out! But did the Sensory nerve-damaged fingers order them? I don’t think the brain did! Hahaha! No, I meant Soddit! Still, how much was Venison Burgers? Ah, they were half-price at £1.65, I could well have meant to get them then. I downloaded the well-hidden receipt, and found that the Chilli bean, Irish Butter and the smoked ham were all substitutions! Never again, will I trust Ocado; they can go on the list of (worst first) Tesco, Iceland, Ocado, Amazon and Morrisons as the most-rotten apples in the orchard of retailing! 
I took a shot of the rainy view outside, from the open kitchen window as I made another brew, in between two successive wee-wees! 
for the t-shirt. 
went to check the bags ready to take to the waste chute later had not leaked and found the parcel with the t-shirt in it, had been squashed through the letterbox! I had only looked at the tracker minutes ago, so I got the computer back on and looked again, and it said delivered. ‘Posted Through letterbox’! 
I opened the package. A most disappointing purchase, dead thin material, no wonder it said quick-drying on it. Tsk! Never mind. 
The oven was heated. The mushrooms in the crock-pot and peas and potatoes in the saucepan were turned down to low. I sprayed some oil on the oven dish tray and got the burgers warming up. 
After keeping a careful eye on the foods, they came together cooked, and I got the feast onto the plate. Sliced tomato, new potatoes, garden peas, and mushrooms. The two wholemeal baps were a perfect size for me to eat the venison as beefburgers. I liberally dowsed the meal with caramelised onion chutney.
burgers at half-price were worth it, but I wouldn’t pay full price for them. 
The knees and legs looked a tad more colourful than of late. With the Clopidgrel lumps returning. But the blood papules and all veins were looking calm. I did have a new small purplish-blue blotch on the inner of the right leg that might turn into something that the Tate Gallery might be interested in as it develops? Haha!
Washed and creamed, medicated things, and back to make a brew and take the medications. 
As I was changing to WordPress to start the updating of the Sunday post: 
Brekkers was corn flakes with a jam tart and mint bikkies with a mug of the very bestest brew, Glenghettie Gold. And it was so good!
A
I got the shoes on and went to start the flat checks, taps, lights, etc. before leaving. As I went into the kitchen, I tripped on the raised door-stopper, and tumbled knees first onto the floor! After a few moments of annoying verbal responses, I struggled to bet back up, painfully onto my pins. 
It turned out that the reason for the Whoppsie was that the velcro on the shoes, had stopped sticking altogether? I tried my best to get them to work without any success. So, into the bin, they were dispatched. After I applied dollops of Phorpain Gel, well rubbed in, I tried the other pair of shoes, but the velcro on them was not exactly reliable? What’s going on? 
I’ll mention it again to the 
I proceeded in an Easterly direction (hehe!) along the link corridor, towards the ILC’s (Independent Living Coordinator’s), Wardens. Interrogation Office, hopefully, to remind them off the open external door, again. 
lady’s hairdresser salon that cheered me up a bit. I like it when folks are happy, a rarity nowadays. No luck in finding any ICL, so I went into the Winwood Court Social Area, and had a go at the crossword book puzzles. 
ind seemed less vicious in the City Centre.
I crossed over later and stopped to take this snap of the crowds in Clumber Street. The Nottinghamians appeared in a slightly better, less down-in-the-mouth mood today, and Pavement Cyclists were noticeable by their absence? 
I got the things in the bags evenly weighted, and off through the square towards the bus stop. 
At the bottom of Queen and King Streets on my way up to the bus shelter, I spotted this chap in his mini-street cleaner, taking a rest and break. It looked like a new vehicle. I wonder if they sell them one at a time? I could use the recharging facility on Chestnut Walk? Just a thought. Hahaha!
I got up to the L9 bus stop. Not many folks around today? And none got on en route back to Winwood Heights. I fought against falling asleep all the way. But the driver helped me, by his imitating Nigel Manson with his driving. Thus, I had to stay awake to concentrate on not being tipped out of the seat on each corner!
In the lift and up, out and int
and found the chips I’d forgotten about having. They were called Truffle Fries and looked almost pale-green in colour when I opened the packet. It had bits of what looked like black pepper spread over them. And had a smell that I’ve never sniffed before to them. I was in two-minds (As usual, though!) about whether I 
should try them or not? I had a look at the ingredients list on the bag: Potatoes, sunflower oil, Black Truffle & Sea Salt, Dried parsley etc. I don’t even kno
Oh, boy, how I managed to keep my hands off of them I don’t know. The aroma of the pate was tempting me to eat them straight away. But, being a good boy, I resisted. Hah-ha! 
Then, I just think I might have fallen asleep as I was actually getting into the recliner, cause I can’t remember anything after that? 
I foolishy allowed myself to get into a Smug-Mode, thinking how well I’d coped with the injury and sorting out the WC system. Putting the things back on top of the tank, and the autonomic nerves let me down again, and I dropped the clock from my grasp. I’m sure I don’t need to explain to you, where it ended up landing? Great Jehosaphat! Please, not another Whoopsiedangleplop day like yesterday? I beg! 
Then I got the Inchcock’s ingestible ingredients served upon the plate. Crispy cheesy potatoes, beetroot, mushrooms, peas, tomatoes and some delectable tasting Mushroom pate; which I put inside wholemeal bread thins to eat, with the pate, sliced tomatoes and caramelised onion in them, to give it an almost perfect twang! 
Taking off my jammy bottoms, was a little akin to a Bull-in-China-shop! Humph! I knocked the following, although it might have been more, but, I can recall that two cans of body spray, the kitchen towel, my scissors, the Germoloid and the Clobetasone cream, and the crossword book and pen, all tumbled off onto the floor. The pen went down the back of the cabinet, so will probably be found after I have snuffed it. I managed to retrieve the other stuff, much to the annoyance of Anne Gyna and Arthur Itis! Tsk! 
did the teeth, only dropping the brush and toothpaste once each. Then the nasal spray. Moved on to shaving, and the foam can went twice, and the razors repeatedly, so much so, that I decided to do flannel wash first, hoping the Peripheral Neuropathy would have calmed down a bit, and the nerve-end would be working a bit better by then. The flannel went a couple of times out of my grip, as did the carbolic soap. 
got back to shaving, I have to say I felt a bit a Smug and Clever Mode come over me. For the dropsies had reduced tremendously as the nerve-ends were getting the message to the brain at last! I moved up to a Sycophantic-Smarmy-Mode
went to get the handwashing finished. I got it done and wrung, but a problem when I started to get it hung! The flaming hangar that I use for the jammie-bottoms, shattered into pieces! 
Shortly afterwards, the Iceland man cameth. I mentioned the substitutes and he told me, nothing to do with me, you should have an email, sort it with them, not me! I signed for the goods and he shot off like Mr Bolt, only quicker! Haha! It was plain to me, that Iceland was forever letting folk down, and some customers were blaming the delivery men?
nt through from the warmth of Windwood Court into the bitterly cold Woodthorpe, a ladies voice called asking if I was alright, it was Chrissie (I think), with some bad news. Mo in the hospital had passed away. This put me in a right bad frame of mind, and I nearly had a cry for Mo, she was a right character, we all liked her so. 
I decided to get the things ready for the meal later. The first thing was to get the mushrooms in the slow cooker. I added some sea salt and a splash of the Sukang Puti vinegar. This Malaysian made brewed vinegar is so tangy. 
Mmm! 
I reached up into the cupboard above the kettle to get the plastic jar of demerara sugar to add some to the peas and spuds! 
I got the oven warming and when it heated enough, I put some smoked haddock and a battered whiting fillet in and watched over it cooking. I dare not keep an eye one it, after today’s series of mishaps. I carefully got the plate filled with feast-like foods, and when I got around to taking a photographicalisation of it, Shaking Shaun shunted into this Saturday’s shenanigans.
23:00hrs: I woke, almost disappointed in not wanting to use the Porcelain Throne, but a demand for a wee-wee arrived, that forced me to reluctantly for once, remove my bulbous, wobbly-short plump-bellied body from the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner. Arthur Itis and Anne Gyna were both giving me a break. I hobbled to the wet room, and found myself quietly singing on the way?
The release was of a totally new mode, to me. It started so promisingly as well! An FDBFF (Firm-Determined-But-Faded-Fast) style. (Which all the others, so-many, that followed were of the same fashion- I shan’t bother recording them, there were countless, and irritated Little Inchies fungal lesion as well! It’ll save on ink and time. Haha!) 
Then, I olive-oiled the ear-holes. The right one was bleeding for some unknown reason, just a smidge. 
I made a brew and moved the handwashing onto the airer.
Summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived from the innards, and off I trotted to the wet room. The amount evacuated was again ginormous, yet the system coped with it, well almost. There were some unrecognised bits still floating in the water after flushing. What it was, I know not, but it was a little concerning all the same.
I was about to put the camera away after taking the shot of the WC above. But, could I find the lens cover to put back on it? No! 
time its happened this new year, already! 
I went on the WordPress reader. Then went on my beloved TFZer Facebooking site. Taking a lot of time to get the photographs on, with these also needing new albums creating. 
Got the nosh prepped. Beef in the pan with caramelised gravy, rosemary and basil, tomatoes and puree, balsamic vinegar, black beans, carrots, onions, gungo beans and all on the simmer for yonks. 
Then got it served on the tray, took it and sat in the £300 second-hand, c1968 recliner, and ate it while watching the TV version of Quatermass 2 on a DVD. All six episodes, and without nodding off, well, maybe the odd one. A lemon mousse for afters. I was most delighted with the flavour and gave it a rating of 8/10.