Wednesday 18th September 2019
Croatian: Srijeda, 18 Rujna 2019. Godine
This should please Mr Shuttlecock?
03:55hrs: I woke very late for me. But then, I didn’t get my head down until four hours later than my usual time. Thanks to Tuesday’s hyperbole, dizzies, tumbling over, physiotherapy frustrations, amidst a day of an unusually high rate of; Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, annoyances, infuriations, exasperations, vexations, irascibilities, provocations, torment, inconvenience, bugbears, and pretentious stress! Boy, I’m glad to get rid of that! Hahaha!
After those wild thoughts had come along with many other worries, concerns etcetera as I lay there, I managed to install Inchcock’s usual banal, ‘Thoughtless Amiable Placitudiness’ mode! I did ponder over whether I’d have the time to get to the Doctors to make an appointment to see her about the toppling-over getting a little frequent lately, and call at the chemist in Carrington to get the flu-jab, or at least book it. Then go to Lidl for some fresh tomatoes and potatoes. I hope I can.
But, first things first, I must get the Tuesday blog done, if possible, before the Morrison delivery arrives. So, out of the Brother-in-Law Pete damaged while he was flat-sitting, when I was in the Stroke Ward, and he fitted new CCTC cameras, and searched for my valuables, which he found and took, (I still haven’t got them back yet four-months later), £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working, uncomfortable, rickety, recliner, and as usual the GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency Bucket) was utilised, again for a WPTU (Weak-Pathetic-Trickling-Unwilling) wee-wee.
To the kitchen and moved the handwashing onto the airer. Kettle on took the medications and made a brew.
Then the Porcelain Throne usage was called for, so, off to the wetroom. The evacuation was a duplicate of both of yesterday’s effort. Massive! But no bleeding at all. I’d like to know where it’s all coming from?
The legs seemed to be thinner, still so pale, and the flipping knees were still painful when moving. In fact, Anne Gyna joined in with Arthur Itis as the chief angst giving ailments of the morning. On the bright side, Reflux Roger, Hernia Henry, Back-Pain Brenda, and Duodenal Donald, were all being kind to me. And, up to now, no Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances from the leg! Or Shoulder jerking. The fingers seemed to be sensing everything they make contact with, and only the milk bottle has been dropped… so far! So, things might be going to go better today… I shouldn’t have said that, should I? Humph! Hok a chainik? I had another WPTU wee-wee.
With determination, I got the post updated, with no bother from the fingers you see! Super! As I was setting up to start on this post, the intercom went – yes, I heard it this morning? Things are going well today!
The chap, decent sort of bloke, put the bags through the door for me. I’d forgotten to give him the used carriers and went to fetch them. When I got back to the door with them, he mentioned that 80% of his customers forget the bags. I took them a couple at a time, into the kitchen, and set about emptying them of produce.
I’d treated myself to some brown extra-large free-range eggs. Got some black bean sauce on offer for three small pots. Some frankfürters, Polish and German, I thought they might go well with the BBQ rice? I remembered to get some more Senna tablets. And two pots of Sticky Rib Pot Noodles, cause the two of them only cost a quid, on offer.
I intended to put them in there usual spot, on above of the top cupboard… Just at the wrong time, the arm started playing up, as I was gently guiding them into position with the blue grabber-stick… They both fell, as an involuntary Hitler Salute was given! One of them fell into the bowl of water, splashing the kettle and even onto the stove, my trousers and floor! Huh! A bit of drying things up, and I decided to store them behind the samovar on the countertop in the future. Grumph!
I had another WPTU wee-wee. Then got on with starting this blog, up to here. I had to stop, to get the ablutions done, so I would have time to get to the Doctors, Chemist and Lidl.
Back later (All being well, anyway. Hehe!)
The ablution session was chock-full of dropsies like ne’er before! Almost anything dropable was dropped! The spectacles. The toothbrush (2). The mouthwash bottle. The flannel (4). The razor (2), the shaving foam. The Shower-head. The towel. The socks (5-6 times). The sock-glide. The bag of PPs and body spray can! And this list is only the ones I can remember! Oh, and the Drain unblocker!
As I was almost ready to leave and get dressed properly, Dizzy Dennis paid a call on me. How I managed to avoid going over, was thanks to the fact that I just cleaned shower stool, and it was used to support by replete, wobbly mass. It took a while before things settled, so I used the seat for a few minutes. But once they did, all was normal again. Well, I mean as normal as is possible nowadays. Haha!
I took the black bags, and deposited them down the chute, on the way out, and made my way to the elevators. The boot-marks were highly artistically done, I thought. The second lift was still out of order. It was a laugh really, as the one working elevator, went from the 15th floor, bypassed the twelfth, stopped at the 4th, on down to the ground floor. Up to the 6th floor, 9th and then 10th floor, and back down again to the ground floor! It seemed to be determined not to stop at my 12th floor, Snortle! (I wrote this on back of the reminder notes I taken with me, to prompt me later!) Then, up to the 15th, and finally down to the 12th floor! I had a laugh about the lift farce with a chap in the cage, who said he had been waiting for ages, and the last time the elevator got to his 15th, it went straight down again.
I got to the bus stop on Chestnut Way. A good-sized ganglet of Windwoodonian tenants were there. Much nattering, moaning, complaining and joking about was enjoyed between us all.
Boarded the bus when it arrived. I just went the two bus stops down Winchester Street hull, or even hill (Tsk!), and started the hobble along Mansfield Road into Sherwood.
The RAI (Rheumatoid Arthur Itis) knees, got more comfortable as I was limping along. Which they often do. Stopping or sitting for short periods are the worst, like catching a bus and having to get off five or ten minutes later, the agony of getting up again has made me try to avoid sitting down if I can, when out.
As the mind wandered, the EQ told me that things would not be so bad today? ‘You must be joking’, I silently replied to him! But, he is rarely wrong!
Up the hill, gentle and steady, no rush, I was that late anyway. Hehe! Continuing along Mansfield Road, down into Carrington.
A pug-faced, scared to ride on the road, ignorant, uncaring, smug, shorts-wearing pillock of a Nottingham Pavement Cyclist appeared from nowhere and came close to having me over. I turned to take this photograph of the animal. However, I was not as bothered as I usually am by these bully-boys.
As I approached the entrance to the Sherrington Park Medical Practise, I felt a little blasé about the visit, my confidence was low. With all the letting me down over the Warfarin changing and not letting me know, leaving me unsure if I had a blood test due or not, what dosage to take. Telling me my when the next one was, and no nurse turning up, then a Nottingham City Homes lady rang them for me, and found out there is now months to go between blood tests. It made it worse because when I rang them last Monday, and eighteen times, I got different messages, but basically, they all said: ‘All the telephone lines are busy. Please ring back after 11:00hrs’ (and this, even at 16:00hrs!) was disturbing.
When I got in and asked the receptionist for an appointment with the Doctor. She asked me if it was urgent. I explained what the problem was, and I heard a beep from her computer. It seems I am now graded as HR (Whatever that is?), with a flashing red light on top of my page. The lady didn’t seem to mind me sneaking a look at the screen. Hehehe! I am now graded as To be offered the first appointment available in the event of me having an urgent problem? At least I think that is what was explained to me. Something close to, anyway.
She then said… wait for this… “The Doctor can see you in ten minutes!” Blimey! I felt all guilty for my earlier denunciatory thoughts! I thanked her and took a seat in the waiting area. I searched in the three-wheel trolley’s broken, ripped, torn, and the hanging loosely fitted bag, for the crossword book. But it was not there.
Dr Vindla came to fetch me into her room. I explained all about the falls, means, times etc. and what I was doing when I went over. She asked various questions of me, said she was going to refer me to the ‘Geriatric Falls Team’. And she got on the phone and did so straight away. I looked them up in the morning. I mentioned the ankle ulcer might be coming up again, and she had a quick look. No, it was another one of the numerous Clopidogrel rashes coming 
through, where the ulcer was. Nowt to worry about. The knees were playing up when I came to leave. I thanked her and departed, handing some nibbles to the receptionist on my way out.
I made my down to the Carrington Pharmacy. Where I inquired about booking for a flu jab. I was told if I’d like to wait, it can be done today. So I did. I wandered around the shelves nosing at things, and Deepak, the owner, came over, almost insisting that I sit in one of the chairs to wait. I explained about being better of moving, and why, and he reluctantly agreed. Then, Kiran came over to invite me into the treatment room to have the flu jab.
She was kind and explanatory in what was going to happen and concerned about me being on Warfarin. Also, as she noticed how unsteady I was on my feet, I explained that this was due more to the Rheumatoid Arthritis than anything. But she called a chap in to watch me as she did the injection, just in case. She explained it was going to hurt. When I told her I felt nothing at all, she looked taken aback a little. I explained the Peripheral neuralgia and Axonotmesis nerves dying off, was probably why there was no pain felt. I thanked her for the pleasantly, caringly done, fine service! Thank you, Deepak and Kiran! ♥
I poddled down to the Lidl shop.
The depressed hassled, irritated, perturbed, and irked looking staff caught my eye, Gawd, they must hate the job! I bought some Blush Tomatoes, roasted hazelnuts and a bag of Demerara sugar. Paid at the self serve tills, under the watchful eye of a severely glum, hang-dog looking, obviously well-pissed-off young assistant.
At the bus stop outside, I caught a bus into Sherwood. With the knees stiffening on the short ride, a complete stranger asked me if I needed a hand to get off of the bus. I declined but thanked him for his kind offer. As I stood on the pavement after getting off, I thought to myself; ‘Do I really look that poorly and dilapidated? Getting old can be a shock, you know! Hehehe!
I momentarily considered walking back up Winchester Street hill. I soon realised that was a bêtise, and made my up the road towards the bus stop. There was plenty of time before the bus was due, so I nipped into the Ozan Store for a wander around. I found some smaller jars of pickled mushroom, a lot dearer than the larger ones, but I can’t open them, even using the fancy tool. So, I bought one. Paid and slowly ambled up to the bus stop.
I had a ‘Thoughts Storm’ en route. In the photo above, there has been four Barber Shops open recently? Why? Two closed down last year! How can they expect to make them pay? I passed the corner where a 78-year-old was murdered two years ago. The knees are worse than ever now! Reflux Roger is too, I’ve never had so much hassle and pain from him! The involuntary belching started, and boy was it loud, and every one stung summat rotten! It worried me a bit, this did. Worst of all, I’d forgot to mention it to the Dr Vindla! Despairing-Mode-Adopted! Which should not have, not with the good luck I’ve had seeing the Doctor so quickly, getting the Flu Jab done… Poor old twit!
Waiting for the bus, I decided to have two of the extra strong eggs, no, I mean extra-large ones. I planned the nosh and kept to it as well. Pickled mushrooms, gherkins, beetroot, and tomatoes. Butter some milk roll bread, and make sarnies as I work my way through the feast. I got back to the flats, no residents out and about on the bus or grounds.
And prepared the meal as I had blueprinted in my mind earlier. Oregano and salt on the eggs, sliced with the Poundland shop slicer. It was not very good, but still. I would have put some black pepper on as well, but the ‘Mysteries of my beloved Woodthorpe Court, that lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of space & the spacetime continuum, illusion, 
delusion, & hallucination’, made sure I could not find the pot! Tsk!
When I got the bread opened, the Warburton’s Milk Roll, I found that they had given me what looked like some engine or machine oil for gratis, on the crust! So, anyone who buys this bread should be aware! It’s happened to me before.
However, I did enjoy it, until Reflux Roger started playing up, leaving a bitter sour taste in the throat and chest. Before the acid reflux started, I’d give this meal a Flavour Rating of 7.5/10. After the reflux bother, 2/10, if that!
I got the washing up done. Took the medications, and got the handwashing done. I did manage to get the camera in time though, to take a couple of bubbles, before they disappeared! Hehehe!
I settled in the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working recliner.
Reflux Roger kept me from nodding off for a long time. Breathing with gasps and intake of breath, mini-coughs, then belches that may have woke up someone three floors away!
TTFNski.
Off to the kitchen and got the handwash things hung to dry. 
The pins (legs) didn’t look at all right, to me. They had swapped fluid retention from the left to the right one, the skin was even more salid and pale than ever! Hang on, salid? Is that the word I meant? When I got back to the computer, I looked it up: Nope, wrong word, but I can’t remember what it was I meant to type? Ah, well, back to the wet room!
festooned with furnishings
I poddled along to the Winwood Court foyer, and let myself out onto Chestnut Way, and walked to the bus stop on Winchester Street. 
that the second-hand, bought from the Charity Shop for £2 wristwatch, with its £10 replacement strap, and £10.99 new battery, was showing the right time. I feared a repeat of last Tuesday, of my missing the bus! I got to the bus stop and checked with the electronic timetable… 
I got: A long-dated medium pork Farms pork pie, drain unblocker, nibbles, for the hand-out bag, Cheeslets, Golf biscuits, and cheddars. A packet of twelve individual mini-biscuit packs, for the tea-break at the physio session. Dettol antiseptic disinfectant, and two ready-made BLT sarnies for my nosh later. The sweet lady who helped me as she did the Tuesday before, came over and put the things through for me. And she mentioned my looking very white! Bless her for her help.
Then hobbled, with the bags all too filled, to the Victoria Centre Shopping Centre (Mall), and called in Tesco, to buy, a packet of the Puff Pastry fingers, a box of Vienna fingers for Josie, and for myself, a bag of the addictive and oh, so flavourful seaweed crispies. I had a ponder about the shelves but found nothing that appealed to me. 
Then, out into the daylight and cold sunshine. A lot more Nottinghamians and folks of just about every nationality there is were about now. The vast majority were students. The street sleepers, shoplifters and muggers were few in number, it’s still a little early for them to be up and about. 
I arrived at the bus stop, with eight minutes to spare. 
Back at the flats, I got off last, as is the norm, and made my ay to the Winwood Court entrance. I walked through the linking-corridor and into the Woodthorpe Court elevator lobby.
I got in the flat, to the tune of drilling, banging and humming from above. I assumed that the workers were busy doing the Fire Alarm Sprinkler installation work. 
It was lovely and warm in the flat. I stripped off, all bar the PPs, and got the handwashing done and hung. Put the buys away. 
So I did a couple of Thoughts graphics. Then got the pots in the oven. Tsk! 
As worn-out as I was, and the late hour, a silly stubborn streak made me get the handwashing done, including the oven-mitts. They should be dried by mid-Novemberish. Hehehe! 
To the GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency Bucket), and what a pathetic lamentable session it was, of the WPTU (Weak-Pathetic-Trickling-Unwilling) style. Hardly worth the effort really!
marks, now! Although I could not get them to show clearly in the photos, two new craters had appeared, near the new, what look like, but are not scratch marks? 
Incidentally, I made this photo into a Vignette style, to try and hide the embarrassing ‘Man Boobs’ that were hanging down, and the voluminous size of the gut. True! 
I came out and had a walk up and over the hill on Mansfield Road, and down to towards the disabled shop.
I arrived at the store and went in to have a look around at the trolleys on show. 
can’t be helped!
I walked over the brow and down to pass the bus stop. Angela and Roy were sat outside a cafe, and we had a few words. They were off to the Lidl store in Carrington. 
Up to the bus stop. When the bus arrived, there was the only person on it apart from myself. A new tenant, who is not the greatest conversationalist I’ve ever known. 
As I went into Winwood Court, via the lobby door, there were three people waiting to get the bus. I bravely told them I am not allowed to let anyone in who I don’t recognise. They produced Nottingham City Home I.D. So I let them in. But, just to keep an eye on them, I took a picture of one of the toy dogs that are scattered around in Winwood Court, while maintaining a bead on them. But they seemed genuine enough. 
Still, no one it sight I got up to the flat and emptied the trolley and carrier bag out. Then got the things put away and pondered on what to have for my nosh, later.
I got the computer on, and ready to start to update this blog. After all, there may not be much time in the morning, with the crippling, over-enthusiastic, impassioned, body-wrecking, 
I was taking of the trews to get myself settled down, and as I bent forward to place them on the rack… just at that moment, Dizzy Dennis visited, and I toppled over. Falling against the Ottoman and the chair. How I got my hands out in front of me to avoid further injury and damage, I don’t know. But I recall an odd moment of smugness, as I thought; “Cricky, you did well there, son!” to myself. 
The pins were not a pretty sight! Hehe! A few new bruises coming through on both legs, above the knee where I landed hitting the Ottoman and electricity socket array. 
I Took the few dodgy steps to the GPEWWB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Wee-Wee-Bucket) and had a rather pathetic, weak, approximate quantity, no more than four-fluid-ounces of an INHBT (I-needn’t-have-bothered-trickling) wee-wee. The stomach was still feeling tight, with the odd escapage of wind, amidst the rumblings from within. It’s been about 42-hours since any Throne evacuations. Oh dear! 
I got a potato in the crock-pot for me later, one in the saucepan for Josie, and got some peas podded. 
would let me
farce, the podding was this morning!
I spotted one of the escapee peas on the stove as I was leaving to get the computer on to do the updating, but where the other estimated eleven peas had gone… Well? 
It was getting lighter out. But, the moon was still showing occasionally through the clouds. 
I got the black bags sorted, and took them with me to the chute, on my way to the Winwood Court rooftop to have a nosey around and take some pictures. 
I spent about twenty-minutes pottering about. I’d hoped someone would arrive, for me to have a natter too. But no! The felt on the roof was still leaking
I made my way to the Woodthorpe end on the passage. And turned round to see if I could see the suspicious ganglet of men, but I couldn’t. Incertitude swelled up inside of me. 
I gave up. Graphics still not even started, let alone done! 
very little juice. But the flavour was spot on!
I opted to go and get the handwashing wrung-out and hung. Argh! A toe-stubbing of a particularly sensitive nature was taken en route. What a Klutz of a Schmendrick! 
I hung the shirt above the heater. Got the kettle on and took the medications. While doing this, I decided I’d have BBQ seasoned rice and bacon for the meal later. Then I got on with updating the Friday post. Which, with many, (All of the INHBBT variety) wee-wees, and stoppages for a false alarm Porcelain visit. I’m nervous after yesterdays blockage. 
I got the peas in the saucepan, but unfortunately, I left the heat on and not realised! I went back to computerisationing for about two hours, and the smell of burning, made me jumped up and rush to the kitchen… 
Stubbing the same toe again on the way! Grrr! 
The saucepan had in it a grand selection of my favourites for me to feast on! Uncle Ben’s BBQ flavour rice. Burnt until they had black spots on the fresh garden peas! Plenty of tomato slicer-sliced brown Sicilian tomatoes. Smoked streaky bacon rashers. 
silverskin onions, & some tip-top, but expensive Morrison’s 45% balsamic vinegar. 
As I was cleaning the equipment, I was like a proper deipnosophist; but talking only to myself. (Well I would, with no one else about. Hehe!) The subjects mused-over were of no particular value, importance or even interest.
Not to mention the NCH’s plumbers giving me the floods, and my having to throw away my clothing from the soaked-through airing cupboard and buy new ones. 
The new intercom set-up, which came with instruction photographs that were different than the actual ones in layout. 
The NCH bloke, who filled the air vent, left, I went out to the Doctors for my INR Warfarin blood test. When I returned, the foam had run down the wall and covered my electric socket, and turned as hard as iron and browny-red. Now the plug outlet can’t be used, for fear of electrocution! Even murderers don’t have to live with this threat!
03:00hrs: I stirred, and blenched the moment I tried to move. By Jiminy, RAI (Rheumatoid Arthur Itis) was giving me so much bother in the knees. To be expected, mind, with yesterday’s Accifauxpas! I laid there a while, to praise the NCH gals, who rescued me from the floor. 
Made a start on this diary then. After another couple of hours, I went to make a brew.
that Nottingham City Homes has invested.
five baking potatoes for £2, and 2lb of peas for £3. 
I took the route through the link-passage into the Winwood Court. The exit door was still not opening. 
interrogation cell. Deana said it does work; she used it yesterday. We went to check. And the green press button, which is identical as all the other link-tunnel doors, but this door only needs pushing after pressing the knob, and doesn’t 
open automatically like all the other ones do! 
next door but one neighbour, Malcolm, was in his shorts and asleep out there, doing his best to get skin cancer. 
Washed up well, and got the fodder and the bought products away. 
But, and however, the innards were rumbling, grumbling, with an uncomfortably-continuos dull, but sharp, aching pains from within. This I put down to the extremely rich flavoured Gastro lamb moussaka, that I foolishly added a lot Leicester cheese, and many of the strong-tasting brown tomatoes too, on top of the plate. I do get carried away, sometimes! I must try to control my gustatory and allotriophagy desires from now on. 
The sky and moon looked so wonderful, I took a picture of it before the clouds hid the planet again.
I got on with the updating of yesterdays blog. It took a while again, but not due to Mr ($19m annual salary plus expenses) Fries, lousy internet service. Rather, it was a large number of photographs.
I’m back, and not wrong about ablution wishes. Only two-dropsies, a razor, and the toothpaste tube. Smug Mode Adopted! The plates-of-meat felt a lot better after the shower.
Salvation came perfectly timed! The door chime rang out. I shouted as loud as I could “Come in, please!” several times. Which the two Nottingham City Homes girl visitors eventually did. 
If the girls had not arrived at the time they did, I would have had to press the button in the wristlet. Bless them for their kindness and understanding! I thanked them both as they departed. My concentration and
I went out on the balcony and took a photograph of the much-love and missed Tree Copse. By Gawd, the wind was blowing so strongly now. 
I wonder if I’ll ever be fit enough to have a walk through the Copse again? The mind pondered over how lucky I had been earlier, and the excellent timing of the NCH (Nottingham City Homes) ladies arrival! So, there, I do have good luck occasionally! Hahaha!
Got the oven heating up. Updated this blog for a while, then got the nosh sorted. Sausage sarnies and tomatoes on Polish sliced sourdough bread. 
It turned out to be a session on the crossword book, with the occasional painful but unsuccessful heave and pushing… But I had to surrender and gave up. There was plenty that wanted to come, but I assume that Constipation Conrad was the reason for my failure to pass owt. I considered taking a tablet, or sachet of crystals to move things. But I decided to wait a bit. 
I washed the hands and got the nearly cold by now mug of tea, and went and got the computer going. I put the appointment made last night when I was woken up, for the questionnaire, interview, telling-off, update or, whatever it is I am having or being given on Thursday, with Nichola.
Excellent session with the ablutions. Only two dropsies as I can recall. The first one being the plastic bottle of drain-unblocker, which fortunately didn’t split open. Phew! The other one, a razor. 
I got to the Wardens Holding & Interrogation Cell, handed some nibbles out, had a little natter, then out through the Windwood Court foyer onto Chestnut Walk. 
I got out of facing the sun and took this much betterer photo of Windwood Court. The shadow from the Chestnut tree looked rather good, and added something to the outcome, I thought. The pods will be forming soon, and then no doubt dropping, to give us something extra to struggle through with our disabled scooters, shopping bags on wheels and walkers. Hehe! 
At the top, I had to rest for a while. The CIDP was taking its toll on me. But I was soon back into life, and found myself under a tree, looking up at the Chestnuts forming. The wind was blowing a bit, but I managed to take a half-decent shot of them, zoomed-in. 
I hobbled through the twitchel, and came out the other end, to take this picture of the fantastic sky. 
to the Health Centre and the podiatrists. 
To my delight, the shop owner had some fingers in stock. Well, only one packet, but I bought it to add to the four packs I bought from Tesco on Tuesday. They were the same price as at Tesco as well. I asked him if he would be having some more in stock next week? He took a photo of the fingers on his mobile phone and said he’d get some if available. I can’t ask for more than that from him. I also bought a pack of Twist Baqar Khani fingers. I’ve not the foggiest idea what that they are or might be, but they looked highly edible, to me.
So tired-out. I had to give up on the computing and got the meal started. I considered using the £4 Sicilian Red Bull’s Heart Tomato in the ready-made Lamb Moussaka. But decided against it, this might be best used sliced in a sarnie! Although, i
I got the handwashing done and hung to dry, while the fodder was cooking. 
The head was getting me more pain now! Just thought I’d mention it. 
The top room was not being used. Shame, it is lovely comfortable and snuggly warm in there, too. A delight to have for the new tenants, a giant crossword was partly done on one of the tables.
I came back down in the lift. No one about. 
Nor, in the elevator, or on the twelfth-floor lobby. When I went into the lightless hallway to the three flats that share that corner, I almost had to feel my way along to find the door. Haha! 
This is the Soulfood vegetarian chilli, with the added vinegar, brown tomatoes and black bean sauce, that was the evening nosh. The chunk of Polish Sourdough, and a mini-bottle of fresh orange juice. This scrumptious, delectable, highly palatable feast was all eaten up. Amidst the belching and passing of wind afterwards, I thought it deserved a favour rating of 9.3/10! 
This began the seemingly never-ending tormenting series of humiliations, Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas, and frustrations! Unexpectedly, the wee-wee was of the BOBSL (Blasting-Out-But-Short-Lived) style. Which involved me having an annoying struggle to get things cleaned up afterwards! I turned into a fervid panegyric, as I spent what felt like time-immemorial, cleansing myself, and the surrounding items. Silently (mostly), waffling, carping on and complaining to myself about my recent Whooopsiedangleploop infestation and suffering with so many reverses. The waking up feeling in better spirits didn’t last long! 
Well, well, well! I do feel a fool for writing all that doom-ladened stuff about the ablutions, now! 
and mayonnaise with the brined tuna. I had the pleasure of using the new tomato-slicer for Josie’s plate. Got the arrangement for the plate laid out, leaving space for the cheesy potatoes to go on last, so they will keep warmer longer.
I spilt some juice out of the slicer-tray on the floor. Bent down to wipe it up, and clouted my head on the cooker! A bad one this was. I think I hit somewhere near where I clonked my head when I fell off of the stepladder trying to get up to do the windows the other day, cause it stung something rotten! It has been aching ever since. Tsk! 
I took a few minutes to unwind, then got the potatoes out of the oven, and onto the plate. Got it all done, and delivered it to the gals door. Josie didn’t answer until I was going back in the flat, she’d been on the phone talking to family. At least she was alright, I handed her the nosh, explained about the mayonnaise and tomato slicer being used, but I don’t think she could hear me properly. But she gave me a smile, thanked me, and I returned to the bomb-site… I mean kitchen! I got it cleaned up eventually, and then, I decided I’d have a hobble into Sherwood, to try and get some decent tomatoes and flakey pastry fingers, I should be able to get the fingers from the Ozan shop.
Out, to Ozan’s in Sherwood, in search of flaky-pastry finger biscuits, tomatoes. 
As I set off along Chestnut Walk, it seemed that all the other tellurians apart from me had relinquished their occupancy. 
downhill, especially on the uneven ground, it needed a good bit of controlling. But I avoided any Accifaupaxs or tumbles. Smug-Mode-Engaged! 
Paid for them, thanked the man, and exited to begin the uphill-hobble back to the flats. No buses on a Sunday. 
They really were so beautiful.
I walked along Chestnut Way, then into the Winwood Court entrance, and along the linking passage without seeing a soul. I hate weekends! 
I had to fight off the heavy eyelids as I put the bits away and prepared the meal.