Saturday 1st February 2020
Croatian: Subota, 1 Veljače 2020 Godine
02:05hrs: Well that was a better nights kip, over 5½hrs! Great! I felt like I had had a good sleep, too! Yet another fantastic morning for Inchcock!
As my functions began to come into semi-life, and the brain kick-started itself, only Arthur Itis, Saccades-Sandra, and Colin Cramps seemed to be in a bad mood. Anne Gyna, Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, Dizzy Dennis etc. noticeable by their absence of botherations. I think I’m getting accustomised to these Good-Luck happenings. I liked ’em!
I manoeuvred my aged, wobbly-bellied body from the £300, c1968, rickety recliner, with the aid of the four-pronged walking stick, got up like a crippled elephant onto my feet. I availed the use of the handily-place GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket), a strong flow, that didn’t last long, of the SHLSDTAT; (Starting-Hosepipe-Like-Suddenly-Dying-To-A-Trickle) variety. On my way to the kitchen, the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived, so I diverted to the wet room (Limping along nicely, I might add!)
I got there in time quickly enough, and an evacuation of almost perfect conditions followed! Apart from a little discomfort from Harold’s internal Haemorrhoids. No bleeding or trickling from Harold of Little Inchies Fungal Lesion. The legs had gained some colour as well! Some new varicose and spider veins developing, methinks.
Just so’s I don’t get too excited about things, I knocked the haemorrhoid and Daktacort tubes off of the floor cabinets while getting the jammies pulled up.
With Shaking-Shoulder-Shay jerking kicked off as I left the room, but that doesn’t bother me much, and it’s usually copeable with, doesn’t hinder the typing on the computer much. See that? More good stuff. Colin-Cramps is keeping the Ailment-Mafia’s end up, mind. A regular rubbing in of Phorpain gel is helping me cope, I think.
In the kitchen, I took a shot of the morning sky; not just any shot, but the worst I’ve ever done! Humph! Yes, the neurotransmitter’s have failed again. It is impossible to stop this, but it comes and goes. It just picked the perfect time to destroy the quality of my picture! Grumpworthiness!
I got some mushrooms and leeks in the bigger crock-pot, on low heat. Made a brew, and took the medications. I added some salt, a drop of balsamic and clear distilled vinegar later on, with some caramelised gravy.
I then moved the handwashing that was hanging drying around. Got the jammie-bottoms on the wire airer, towel on the stand-up airer and moved the shirts above the heater in the kitchen. Then, I made another brew of tea, the last one had gone cold on me.
At last, I got the computer on to update the Friday blog Very late! But at least I’d got some other jobs done this morning.
I checked on the crock-pot stew first. I’m going to add some canned stewed steak in gravy to it after I get it in the saucepan on the hob later. That’s the plan anyway.
Well, the internet started off failing to save straight away, as soon as I’d written a sentence on WordPress! And I had to do three amendments due to the neurotransmitter’s nerves playing up, still. I decided to go on the TFZer Facebooking first, as nothing was needing to be saved on that, so it might prove more productive.
Well, I was wrong again! So, I went back to doing the updating of the Friday post, again! Much correctionalisationing was needed, and the internet also slowed me down, along with the neurotransmitter’s nerves. So very Agravannoying!
I popped in to check on the slow-cooker again. After yesterdays burnt offering, I was still a touch nervous of a repeat performance. No bother, though, the pots, onions and leeks were looking good and cooking rather swiftly.
Back to the computerisationing, and got the Friday diary finished, but it was well gone 06:00hrs by that time! Flanglemanglingly-Frenetically-Frustrating!
So, has my scintilla of good-luck come to an end? I suppose so! At this thought, I checked on the cooking again. All was okay, I transferred the food to the large saucepan, made and added son caramelised gravy to it, and stirred it in well. Then cleaned the large crock-pot and lid.
They don’t half get dirty, don’t they? Took me ages and a lot of effort to get it looking something like alright!
Back on the computer, and my xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-law Pete, called on the landline. Pete, the same age as wot I am, a bit older actually. Who still has his hair, is handsome. Much loved by the ladies. Is fit, capable, not lost his memory, is a mechanical and electrical genius too. The one that retired fifteen years early. Can’t blame him after his big wins on the pools then the lottery. Then, when he was left a fortune by an unknown relative. So, he invested in off-shore accounts, the stock-exchange, bought a new car and retired. Jealous? Me? We had a good chinwag, Sister Jane was dining out with her friends in Nottingham. I told him I was looking for a name to give for my Shaking Shoulder, and he suggested Shane, so it will be! Rings nicely, Shaking-Shoulder-Shane! Hehe!
We had a good gossip and laugh. But he had to go, Sister Jane was checking up on him again. Haha! Nice of him to ring, mainly to mention that I missed his birthday. I nearly told him to keep the money he stole from the flat and didn’t return while I was in the hospital from the stroke. But I didn’t. I understand getting cash out of the Scottish Widows European Back-Hander Fund is not easy!
I did some work on this blog and then went to make a fresh brew. Pete has mentioned the beautiful clouds at his posh-end of Nottingham, and I saw how picturesque they were.
I put the kettle on and went to open the unliked, unwanted, thick-framed, light and below-view-blocking window to take photographicalisation of the sky… The howling wind blew the window in and clouted me on the forehead, knocked the glasses of my head. And flung the t-shirt that was hanging there, right across the room. With the coathanger managing to hit my ear-hole as it went by! The mysteries of 72 Woodthorpe Court, the illusions, delusions, hallucinations, infestations, Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas and manic machinations that thrive here freely, are bountiful!
Just thought I’d mention it.
I must try to get some graphics done, even though it’s beyond my usual head-down time. But no, only one ‘Thought’ done, and the fatigue set in.
I went to get the stew meal sorted and prepared. First, I just had to take a couple more photographs of the sky view, with the sun still trying to get its heatless, cold beam on earth. Bootiful!
I moved the mish-mash of leeks, potatoes, mushrooms and garden peas, from the crock-pot into the saucepan. Added some tinned beef in gravy to the mix, and out some more balsamic vinegar in. Stirred it well, tasted a spoonful, then made some gravy, and that was mixed in too.
While it heated up again, I washed the slow-cooker pot and casing. What a horrible, messy, time-consuming job! Cut my finger, dropped the rag, spilt water all over the sink. Dangwangles!
Got the things back on the counter, and made an orange spring water drink to take the medications with. I had a view of outside as I took the tablets, and down by the bottom of my sadly, much-missed tree copse, I could see people going over to something left at the foot of the hill. I zoomed in to see what it was. A tribute, possibly from a funeral, left as you can in. I wondered sadly if I will ever get fit enough to visit the copse again. I used to love going through and just stopping at times, to almost talk to the trees, and smell nature. I lovely gesture I think, putting this where presumably, the deceased used to stroll him or herself? Heartwarming, but depressing on a personal level, at the thought of my never being well-enough to visit it again! Maybe one day, with someone with me, I’d like to try.
I pulled myself out of my self-pity mode, to find the pan of ‘Inchcock imitation Stew’ was bubbling over! Oh, Gawd! More cleaning up and washing to do! Humph!
I got the meal served up and pondered on what I’d actually put in it. Potatoes, mushrooms, leeks, black Iberico tomatoes, garden peas in rich gravy… and the seasoning! Well, sea salt, balsamic vinegar, distilled vinegar and beef stock. Sounds a bit of a risk, but it smelt nice. Hehehe!
I ate it all up, with a flavour rating of 7.5/10 given.
Dropped the dish and things in the bowl to soak, and got down to watch a DVD.
ZZZ!
During this, I had a go at the crossword book. And dropped it when the neurotransmitters failed in the finger-ends. I used the picker-upper to retrieve the book. I creased the pages in doing so. When I got it in my hand, a page with some of my scribble on it was on top. I’d written something about my xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete; I think I wrote it when I was in the Acorn home, recovering from the stroke, so out of interest, I read it. It related to Pete visiting me there. And suddenly it dawned… I’d missed his birthday! Well, I can expect him to raid the flat again now! Hehe! He might even arm one of his drones and send it over! I must apologise to the lad. Sorry, Pete, me old mate, catch you later, I hope, Sir. I do feel a right schlemiel! I blame my doing that housework yesterday. (Red-face and shame growing!)
I got the ablutions sorted out. The legs looked mighty fine! Dropsies that I can remember; Shaving Razors (4) Shaving cream. Teeth; toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash bottle. Showering: Showerhead, soap (3), sponge, and back-brush. Then another toe-stubbing against seat raiser. The sock-glide battle; that I had been mastering of late. Left me with a piece of the nail removed on the thumb, and a bruise on the knuckles. Also, I clouted my elbow on the sink edge, getting my trousers on! Now that’s more like me! 
I tended to the handwashing next. A few bits needed doing, and I made a right mess of the kitchen in doing so. I was a smidge irked by having to clean the flipping floor again after doing it yesterday. A few quiet mutterings of a curseful nature were uttered. But overall, I remained in a decent enough mood with myself and the world. 
When I’d got the clothes done, rung and hung, then the beep-beep hook on the coathanger with the jammie-bottoms hanging on it suddenly detached itself! And again water found its way onto the floor I’d just cleaned again! More foul language was silently-voiced, with one word coming out aloud, beginning with F! 
the view from the unwanted, unliked, light & view-blocking new kitchen windows. It looked like some rain is on the way. Pretty in a way, though. No, that’s not the word to describe it! More like, erm… I don’t know now, the name just departed my brain and off into the ether? Humph!
Down and along the link-passage to the ILC’s (Independent Living Coordinators), Wardens to us, Holding Cell office. A quick nip in and handed the nibbles out. All done in thirty-seconds, and off into the Winwood Court Social Lounge. Only one person in there, a Nottingham City Homes agent. There was a lot of them arrived today. Including the Nottingham City Homes Generalfeldmarschalless Housing Patch Manager/Catwalk Model, Angela Gould. 
Cox’s apples, not cheap, but they looked okay, a bag of small potatoes, a wholemeal bread thins, and some mushrooms. 
Office in it, to get some Puff Pastry fingers. 
As I took this photo, a young Nottinghamian Pavement Cyclist came by, and gave the evil eye and said something, but I could not hear what it was he said. Then casually plodded on up the hill, with his hands in his pockets, not on the handlebars. 
got to Abdul’s and got a packet of the fingers and a pack of jam tarts, £1 each. I met Welsh William at the check out ahead of me. He held the door open for me as I followed him out. We had a chat on my way to the bus stop, and he diverted into the bookies. That’s William in the light blue jacket shooting off for a flutter on the gee-gees, I imagine. 
I carried on to the bus shelter, just as the rain came down heavier. Good timing! Some tenants of the flats, unknown to me by name and I had a chinwag for a while, as the bus came a little late today. But it wasn’t cold with it like it has been these last couple of days. The rain seems to have scattered the local populace.
Back at the flats, I was off the bus last as usual, to avoid banging into anyone or getting hit about. One of them waited to hold the door open for me, bless the gentleman! I did my best to catch up with them for a natter, but they were already at the end of the passage near the swipe door, by the time I entered the corridor. William was leading the charge. 
I got the few things purchased put away and began to formulate what to have for today’s nosh with the new potatoes. Which incidentally were ready to go now, in the crock-pot. So I moved them in with the garden peas in the saucepan. 
However, I still ate the potatoes, not the black bits, mind. 
Not only, but as well as and besides them, the pins (legs) were looking even better. On the verge of normalisticalistion! Well, apart from what I think might be one of the coming and going blotches, due to the Clopidogrel Clive. Even, Varicose-Veins-Victor had calmed down! I think I’ll upgrade my previous exclamation from disconcerting to worrying!
Had I woken up in another world? I clambered out of the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner so easily! No dizzies, an almost routine Throne visit? Plus, Duodenal Donald and Anne Gyna were giving me no hassle at all. Little-Inchies Fungal Lesion and Harolds Haemorrhoids 
I put some leeks and mushrooms in the small crock-pot, seasoned with onion salt. Then made another mug of tea, and belatedly took the medications. 
Then… Eurgh! 
(Well, I didn’t make it back until I woke up Friday at 01:00hrs. Humph!) 
Back up to the flat, and tackled the mopping up of the filthy kitchen floor. I had to change the water in the bucket twice! 
While the floor dried, I went down to the Hauptsturmfuhreresses Holding Cell and Office, with the last of the Easter treats. They were busy, and my EQ told me I was annoying them. But, pole-dancer and Warden Deana, did pose for me to take a snap of her. 
I went outside on Chestnut Walk, back to the flat, so I could take some photographs of the buildings. Not received any for a while now, with all those days being stuck indoors over the month. Thanks mainly to Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Nottingham NG5 2DA, for being late with my prescriptions and leaving me without painkillers and beta-blockers for five, no, six days! Just thought I’d mention it! I wonder if the next months will arrive on time? The Medicine Management lady, Leoni, who I complained to, told me to ring them when I get to my last weeks blister-pack and remind them. Very helpful, professional and useful! Especially as she knows I am almost deaf! I wandered-off the plot there, sorry.
I got the meal prepared and served up. Those wicked, unhealthy Frikadellens, done it the oven, and caramelised onion chutney slathered liberally on top of them (Evil-chuckle), garden peas, much-overcooked but still tasty leeks, a sliced black Natoori tomato, and four mushrooms done with balsamic vinegar, and a few mini new potatoes. With a luxurious lemon-curd yoghourt for afters, with a bottle of fresh orange juice! Bu gum, I relished that! Flavour rating of 9/10 given! But, I must resist the temptation to have Frikadellens again for a few months, cause despite the fantastic taste, they are really not healthy at all! 
As I fought my way out of the £300 second-hand, c1968 recliner, and made way, hobblingly and hanging onto the walking stick, to the hall. I still managed to give myself a sickeningly-sharp toe-stubbing against the Ottoman! I found the smoke alarm going off on the kitchen ceiling. There was a recorded message, that was the squeaking, whiny noise I heard I assumed. It repeated a few time before stopping. I caught a few words of the recording, ‘No action is needed’, I hope. So, I reckon it was an alarm test. Indeed, no smoke or fire around anyway.
I felt almost semi-contented as booted up the computer. It didn’t last for much longer! First, I realised that the right-hand fingers Neurotransmitter nerves were bad, and knew this would mean difficulties in typing. But before I got a chance to find out properly, the famously pathetic and unreliable Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet, let me down again! 
I struggled on with the blogging update. Which was one of the easiest for months, as I was stuck-indoors again yesterday, so only a few photographs to sort out, plus, I’d stayed up later than usual, so it was virtually finished when I started it – Does that make sense? Anyway, it kept going off so often, and I had to just press on until it returned on its own. What a palava! But I did get it finished and posted off, hours after starting it, though!
I went on the TFZer Facebooking, that was a bind too. Thanks to Mr ‘I don’t-know-what-I’m-doing, but still, I get paid a fortune’ So I’m not bothered, Fries! Swine! Mafia minded bully and incompetent, mob-backed merchant! Probably not true, but how else does such an arrogant, unskilled pillock like that, keep his job?
I made a start on this blog but gave up. Too much like hard-work, thanks, Mr Fries! The farcical Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet came last month to do some upgrading, that made things worse than before. They are coming again on Feb 6th to try again. Phwert! 
the stand-up ablutionalisationing done. 
When I got to the Winwood Heights Hauptbereitschaftsleiteress Wardens and Lap-Top Dancers Interrogation Office, but no one answers my knock. 
I thanked her and made my way out onto Mansfield Road, nonplussed, foggier-headed, and somewhat more perplexed than I did when I entered the bank. 
I had another bash at the crosswording en route. I got off on Front Street, right near the Asda store, and went in to have a look at their slow cookers on offer. I managed to avoid the dangerously driven mobility scooters and got into the shop. They had a range of small crock-pots on sale. 
From which of course, making my mind up which one to buy, took a lengthy spell of ditherisationing. I ended up selecting the smallest on offer. Only £14, 1.5L size. They had several 1.8L ones that were even cheaper to buy. But this smaller one will suit my needs, I hope, anyway.
Now, with the two bags on the walker-guide, one with the cooker in it, I poddled unsteadily out onto Front Street. The alarm went off as I left the store through the tag recognisers, from the cooker most likely. But no one came to check on me. It seemed eerily free of cyclists, pedestrians, beggars, and mobility scooters out there!
I made my way to the bus stop, and Mary was sat sitting there in the shelter. There was still ten-minutes or so until the bus was due. We had a good nattering session, during which Mary showed an interest in having the gigantic slow-cooker. Well, being as no one had let me know it the Winwood Court kitchen could use it, I said she could have it. 
I put the fodder away. Then got the new pot set-up next to the other semi-new biggerer one. 
I got the pots and mushrooms out of the larger crock-pot and made up the evenings meal. Pork pie meat, a Natoora black Iberico tomato, beetroot, garden peas, chestnut mushrooms, new potatoes and a sliced Cox’s apple. A lemon curd yoghourt and drink of fresh orange juice with it. Rated at 8.2/10 for flavour. Even the tomatoes, which were meaty tasting, although they were Spanish. I enjoyed that!
Where a shock awaited me when I went to make a brew. I thought I’d fill-up the Glengettie tea-bag pot. After a long search, there was none to be found! So I did an Ocado order for some more. I got some Thompsons Punjana as well. 
I tended to the ablutions. Only a couple of dropsies this time. (Razor (2), flannel) It went well overall, and the Sock Glide was tamed!
But the Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet, was really crap today! Even for them! 
Sunshine, in the form of Nurse Christina, bucked me up as she arrived to take my blood. She let me take her photo, in the balcony, bless her. I wish I’d got a printer now! Humph! 
I came back to life. (Well, that was a bonus to start with, Hehehe!) Felt weary, looked at the clock, which indicated to me that it was 00:25hrs. The cal to the Porcelain Throne arrived, and almost started on its own, a bit of urgent buttock-clenching, helped me get out of the £300 second-hand recliner and to the wet room, barely in time. 
They are to be working again on the upgrading of the service, on Thursday 7th February. Well, last month when they did some work, they left the service more unreliable than it was before! Hey-Ho! 
I set about my self-given tasks. 
back in its box. There were foam sheets etc. that would not go back in, as I expected. But it is now transportable, at least. I felt rather semi-pleased with myself! Smug-Mode-Adopted! 
I g
ot the newest slow-cooker out of its box using the steak-knife. Good job I was in the kitchen at the time, it gave me quick access to the cold-water tap, Germolene and finger-plasters from the medical drawer nearby. Humph! 
The ablutions had to be done, and with rushing now, the risk of an Accifauxpa was high, I kept telling myself not to take risks. (Do I listen?) 
Back to the flat, I got readied and made my way down, though the link-passage, and to the ILC’s Interrogation and Body-Searching Office in Winwood Court. Hehehe! 
I dropped of the bus near the old Palligh de Dance, and walked over the two sets of pelican crossing lights needed, to get to Glasshouse Street. 
I came out of the Poundland shop and decided I had the time to walk along, taking some more photographicalisations. This was taken down Clumber Street, I was getting some rum looks from the Nottinghamians, that indicated their disapproval of my actions. Oh, dear! 
So I took another, zoomed-in this time. 
I poddled along, quietly contented in my own fashion. I even tried to whistle, but the hole left by my last tooth abstraction made it hard work. Which shows how long it is since I decided to whistle blithely! Sad innit!
Other buses needing access had joined the queue by the time I got to the corner. Where it became plain what the problem was, the dreaded roadworks! 
At the top of Queen Street, the view with the sky perfect for photographicalisationing was an amazingly good opportunity for a moody photo to be taken. Thankfully it came out decent enough to use. I checked on the camera screen and spotted another traffic problem. 
Surprisingly, the L9 bus was on time? (Beats me how he did it, brilliant!) I was the sole passenger until two bus stops later. No Winwoodonians were picked up en route, but I got out the crossword book. I got a couple of old clues as well. Swank-Mode-Engaged!
I didn’t meet anyone on the trip through the Winchester link-passage, the New Winwood Social room, the Winwood Foyer, the Woodthorpe court link-passage, and into Woodthorpee’s lift foyer. 
Warmed the garden peas, got two cheesy cobs buttered, sliced an apple, put some mini pork and pickle pies cut in half on the plate. Got down and tucked into the meal, but I’d again overdone it. 
Bloody as well, but far less messy. You can’t win ’em all, Haha! 
As I left to go to the kitchen, the shaking started from the neurotransmitter transmissions failing. At least as of now, this is very often for a short time only. When I got in, I decided to get the handwashing done first thing. Thus giving me more time if needed, when getting Josies Sunday meal prepared in time. 
I got the meal all prepped, and onto the serving trolley. 
I went to make a brew and had to turn on the light in the kitchen. It had suddenly gone so dark, and the rain was starting to fall. I suppose this might mean the cooker is coming later than forecast. 
23:55hrs: Another flipping disturbed sleep. The constant dreams! It peeves me so that I cannot recall much of them. Other than they all involved my working days happenings, cock-ups, mistakes etc. were relived, but with a different outcome… I think. When I had to get up (yet again) to go for a wee-wee, (They were all of the LHNPOS (Long-Hosepipelike-No-Pain-Or-Sensation) variety, I decided I might as well stay up. 
I got the stick and went to the kitchen, to take the medications and make a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea. 
I began this post off. Then went to open the Crock-pot box. It was ginormous! Far too big for me to use. A family size one, for sure. 
I got the nosh finished, served up, and tucked into. The black bean sauce weakened the chilli flavour, which suited me down to the ground. I blame Morrison’s, for substituting my curry beans with the Chilli ones! 
After eating, I decided I had better get the washing up done. Maybe to assuage my guilt with the Crock-Pot farce? When the pot-cleaning was done, I lifted the bowl to tip out the water so as to wipe it dry… Within seconds I had, soapy wet jammies and socks, the cabinets had running suds down them, the floor was awash, and all due to an involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance from the right leg! To add to the misery, I kicked the four-pronged walking stick over, and the handle part fell on my left foot corn! Somehow, I knew that this incident was not what EQ was warning me about! That is to be revealed, yet, if at all.
The Throne session was not a good one. Massive, slow and messy with a surprising amount of discomfort. At least it gave me a chance to have a go at the crossword. It was painful when I stood up after so long sat with bent knees. Arthur Itis wasn’t happy about it at all. I recalled bits of a horrible dream I’d had, a bully of a shop manager kept throwing me out, and threatening me with the sack?
A clean-up, and off to the kitchen. I got the kettle on and took the medications. 
The fingers were tingling and a tad annoying. 
And then… I only need the Porcelain Throne again! Arthur Itis is now as mad as he has ever been with me. This is not good! And I have to keep getting up for a wee-wee! They were all, up to now, of the PLSE (Persistent-Long-Spraying-Everywhere) style! Which some else to fret about, I just cannot control the evacuations at all. Just keep kitchen towels and disinfectant nearby to use, and a tube of Phorpain gel 
for Arthur’s knees. I think it’s fair to say, a modicum of depression is building up! The pins (legs) looked the same pot-mark-wise as earlier, but they seem to be getting a smidge more colour? Just a couple of more blood-papules. I’ll recheck them after the ablutions are done, this is a rarity! Hahaha! 
I had to absquatulate for a wee-wee, this was a bit different, of the SSP (Short-Sharp-Painful) style. I got the grey bucket emptied, rinsed and sanitised, and decided to get the handwashing done. Going to be a slow job getting the jammie-bottoms dry. The socks and long-sleeve t-shirt will be okay, being thinner.
I took the black, and recycling bags down to Caretaker Stewart room. We shared some Rabelaisian humour, handed over the nibbles, and then returned to the flat, and checked to see how far on the Tracker had gone. Perhaps he’s having his dinner? The driver who is taking it to the dispatch place, I wonder where that is? Bit it is still hours away from there, then someone has to come to Nottingham with the stuff. It’s going to be hard to stay awake. Oh, dearie me! Dangwangles and damn!
his work. Ahem! 
bigger) leg.
