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MONDAY 19th OCTOBER 2026
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I was in the midst of my last horrible dream; I was trying to jump from a wooden string-roped bridge into the water below. Not worried about going over at all. But the odd things that kept interrupting and kept me from diving in were endless. Some I recalled the moment that Carer Andrew came in and switched the light on. I tried to stay with the dream, and I don’t think I responded to the lad very well. Well, you wouldn’t when a pink gorilla came from the trees and shouted that he is an Alziemers councillor, and started towards me on the rickety tied-on wooden planks, shaking the bridge all over, and this made me change my mind, and I decided not to jump after all.
I think, well, I’m almost sure that earlier an alien alighted from a dome-topped mini spaceship, laughed at me, calling me a whimp, and tasered me. Climbed back into his tiny ship, turned, put two fingers up, and said, in a squeaky voice, ‘Cheers, Dumbo!’) 
Vague, broken memories of other dreams lingered for a while, and then I realised Andrew had arrived when the light made me jump and forced me into a semi-responsive state. I greeted him, and he didn’t look happy. Why? I wondered if I’d been doing the somniloquy stuff again when he came in. Last week, when Inram did a teatime call, and I’d fallen asleep in the computer chair. He laughed so much when he woke me. He told me that I was talking unintelligible gobbledygook and was using a fair bit of bad language, but laughing as I did so. Of course I didn’t know if I was somniloquying this morning, but I might have been. Young Andrew did not seem too impressed with things. Haha!
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Another horrible day!
British Gas called me; I found out why: Jenny, my Angel, had contacted them. The bloody mobile phone of mine. I so hate it. It doesn’t ring when anyone calls, and I can’t hear voice messages. BG showed 8 missed calls (which grew to 19). And 11 missed calls. Ejaz contacted them, and I had to give my email, name and address. While doing so, the bloody mobile disconnected. TWICE!
Ejaz spoke with them; they said they would have to get back to me in a few days to prove who I was… WHAT?
I began to be frustrated and mega depressed, and didn’t feel very good.
I tried to get some of this blog done, but then the Catheter started flowing back- the pain! So I took a Codeine and Morphine.
Agony, but to make things worse, I then took a mild tumble. Not feeling up to much.
I’ll have to stop here, sorry.
I was already worried about the visit to the Audio Clinic, and getting things sorted as far as I could, but felt even more out-of-it. Then the BG farce, and bloody mobile. At one point, I was on the bloody mobile, and the landline and the intercom rang at the same time. I reckon that helped me take the fall. The sodding intercom wasn’t working again; I had to go down three times to see who it was, and each time no one was there at the foyer door. Now I know I won’t have time to catch up on this blog, a chance I may have to go to A&E with the Catheter problem… the Carer to be asked to help me get dressed. Will the Catheter… Enough!
Might get this a little caught up tomorrow…
Ha! Just remembered I changed the delivery time for the food to between 21 & 22:00hrs, so sleep will be a more urgent need than whatever it was I was going to write, but I’ve forgotten it now. If my bladder backs up, I might ring the District Nurses? I’m fed up. A near-noon photograph from the kitchenette window. Very few photos taken today; I’m afraid they’re scarce, indeed negligible. However, that is due to cock-ups and failures on my behalf, but the main culprit was, without a doubt;
British Gas: oligarchs with the worst complaint record of any of the 20 active domestic energy suppliers supplying the UK! So many indecisive, detail-seeking, and rejecting phone calls made and received today.
There was no time to even start this blog!
In fact, and I’m not joking, it is now nearly midday on Wednesday 21st October, when I started this blog!
To make things worse, it took more time and was, frustratingly, mentally crippling, as Tuesday was as bad as Monday was for time and dwindling finances! I had no time to get any blog done, and with so much short, pathetic sleep, my body forced me to get some on Tuesday. When I was sitting at the computer, I couldn’t get myself mentally together to try to make a start… I did scribble a few notes, forgot to take the camera with me; I was so…
But I’ll get to that later. (I hope)
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British Gas
Here to Solve!
The lying Oligarch, communicatively confusing, 
sourpuss, and AI, off-putting, rigmarole-ridden, sending us around the houses just to reach a human, although I question that at times, awkward, two-faced, off-putting, disconnecting our calls. They give us numbers, direct us to another company that, judging by their pissed-off voices, tells us to keep telling people to ring us, and we have no connection with British Gas! No doubt in reply to a management instruction, in a vain effort to reduce the amount of complaints by making sure we can’t get through, and giving out dates for service maintenance or repairs they have no intention of keeping?  
I suppose you think that I am getting annoyed? Piqued, cross, aggravated, disgruntled, exasperated, irked, irritated, nettled, and upset with British Gas’s lack of honesty, cheating, misrepresentation, equivocation, deception, fabrication, fibbing, falsification, fooling, deceiving, deluding, hoodwinking, conning, tricking, bamboozling- are you? They are the most deceitful, underhanded, deceptive, chicanery-ridden, unscrupulous, devious, artful set of customer (non) service givers I’ve ever known. Bearing in mind, I have suffered similar avoidance & evasion tactics to suit their own measures from Virgin Media and HMG Customs & Excise. (I lost those battles as well).
Having tried all of the above, and failed.
Makes British Gas Customer Service ineptitude far worse (or superior) than that of all the other Oligarchs, guilty parties, and companies put together. 
A company that exists to sort out people’s complaints against power-supplying companies will not help anyone using British Gas for electricity; see below. 
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CEO Chris O’Shea: total pay package £4.73 million
A Genuine letter from British Gas Oligarchs to an elderly customer… Mrs Nightmare is not her name!
I’ve got to stop on this subject.
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Photos taken during the day.
Sweet & sour with egg fried rice.
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Sunset snaps
Last one
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TUESDAY 20th OCTOBER 2026
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DISAPPOINTING DAY
Little was achieved, compounded by the failure at the Audio Clinic, which at first seemed great but left a lingering threat of terrible things, like needing to telephone my Doctor, a challenge much feared nowadays, with the possible result being taxi fares to get my ears de-waxed. My Doctor told me that although she had cleaned the hearing aids, there was still so much wax in them that she expected the Cerumen to block things up again in a few days. 
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PRE-DURING & AFTER THE VISIT
I spent an odd evening and night,
Nodded off in the chair, woke feeling shite,
Just had a seizure, became a somnambulist…
For 4 hours in the chair I’d slept,
Realising, quick as a sulphite,
Twas the end of my sleep tonight,
For tomorrow’s, to Audio Clinic…
The thought got me in a panic,
Things to plan, & with my Attention Deficit,
Details, timing, my brain went bicentric…My mind resisted, went all abulic,
Wanting things to go right, I’m apophenic,
What to take, have I got the schematic?
Painkillers for knees & shoulders rheumatic?
Hospital Transport arranged, ‘ecstatic’!
Trouble is I’m so amnestic,
Expecting today to go all tragicomic,
I think my plans will turn out theoretic,
Lovely people at the Audio Clinic,
Surely, they’ll make me hear better,
Then I can offer them a douceur,
My offer in thanks will be sincere,
A Clinic? To me? More a sacraria.
But today, it was scarrier,
Tell you more later.
Later came Andrew, my Carer,
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The lift arrived from the hospital,
Two drivers, one short, one tall,
Got me there without a fall,
Into the crowded waiting hall,
Cram-packed, space available minimal,
No one spoke, well, said little at all.
As all awaited things audiological,
We got sat down; Andrew did squibble
When I stood up for an amble,
Cather bag was slowly filling,
Been there a long time, I wasn’t caring,
My name was called; we were led in…
Soon she hearing aid mending,
Then my ears investigating,
She said both ears need olive-oiling,
Said do that, twice daily,
She frowned, and said earnestly,
They’re working now, as you can see,
Expect another blockage, & quickly,
You must phone your surgery,
See if they do wax removal…
If not, you must pay for it privately,
Costing £50 an ear is normal,
I agreed, querimoniously,
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Then we left to ring for a taxi,
Then I started to get a little angry,
At the route taken, costing me…
I said, “Where are you going, matey?”
And this taxi cost was mounting,
I’m using GPS; where should I be?
I told him, pensively,
We got home eventually,
It was as much as going to the QMC!
Got up in the flat, Andrew and I,
I wanted, needed a mug of tea.
Thus today did not go satisfactorily.
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Bed, sleep seemed an attractive idea; but no!
I’d rearranged the food orders for late in the day.
The first one at 17/1800hrs, the second for 18/1900.
Carer Mirza called me; always glad when he calls. I planned to get down for 1630hrs to let him in, but I got stuck scribbling notes about the day when the intercom rang. I went down, but no one was there. I thought it was later than it was, and the wardens wouldn’t be able to let him into Winwood Court. I went back up to the flat and found him in there. To my pleasure, they were here because he’d arrived earlier than usual. Good job, too!
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Boiled two large spuds, cut
them in half, and added
some smoked vegan cheese
on top of each slice, and
they tasted Grrreat!
Lip-smacking good!
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First food delivery arrived early
Second one a smidge late
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Done for, fell asleep after washing the pots.
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WEDNESDAY 21st OCTOBER 2026
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Woke up after four hours’ sleep, with the upcoming acid reflux filling my chest, up to my throat, mouth and nasals. I was well disoriented. The Carer came in. I can’t even recall who it was, but I sensed I’d been hurried too much given the state I was in. He kept asking what painkillers I wanted. He then disappeared into the WC for ten minutes. No problem. He departed, and I sorted the bins. I was still not fully compos mentis. But thought things were becoming clearer. Still a bit vague, though. I then put some garden peas in spring water,  some light soy sauce. I plan to add sliced potatoes for later.
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I looked at the Carer’s medication table and instantly thought, “Well, this needs some sorting out!”
But forgot about it when the intercom rang for the fifth time, and I had to shoot down to the lobby to let them in.
No one was there, for the fourth time. When I said shoot, a more appropriate word would be ‘hobble’.
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The mobile battery died. The computer would not start up. Nor would the TV. The intercom failed every call. The kitchen hot tap is dripping. The kettle went bang… but still works? I tried to count of many things I dropped, but lost track; there were so many. Ah, I found a loose page with numbers and details of some of them that I could not find or dropped: Saucepan lid, tea bag pot, pens (3), picker-upper (2), camera, mobile (2), hearing aids, toothache spray, Olive-oil dropper, water bottle (3),
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Carer Raj did the long call visit, hah! I’ll say no more; he’s a big lad, and doesn’t take criticism well.
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I thought this was an Iceland fresh cake, but it turned out to be frozen. Still, it looks like I’ll get some fresh Cream & Lemon store-baked ones from Morrisons next Wednesday. These are for my Angel & her hubby Frank, as a little thank you.
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Afternoon view before the rains poured.
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SWEET DREAMS
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