Monday 1st June 2020
Hmong: Hnub Monday 1 Lub Rau Hli 2020
02:30hrs: I woke, in no mood to become active in mind or body. Gawd blimey, I was still so tired! Never have I had such Clinomania, and reluctance to wake up, let alone get up! A little discussion between my brain vs my lack of willpower and interest in anything, resulted in the recreance winning this time, and I nodded off into sweet obliviousness.
03:10hrs: I stirred again, and had another battle with myself as to get up or not! I seemed to be in a state of hypnagogia again. I felt I had to rise, whatever the body and ailments told me, and I was determined to. I fell asleep again!
04:10hrs: I came back to reality yet again. This time with the need for a wee-wee, forcing me to beat my reluctance for returning to the land of the living. Robotically, I inched my ginormous wobbly-stomached burdened body out of the creaking, £300, second-hand c1968, grotty, repellently beige-coloured recliner, with the sticks assistance, I got up onto my painfully long toenailed feet.
As I struggled to get to the wet room, I espied signs of nocturnal nibbling on the Ottoman tray! But at the time, no feelings of guilt were sensed, for the wee-wee was getting more urgent now!
Unfortunately, in my haste, I knocked corner stand, and I heard things fall off of it. No stopping, onward, the wee-wee must be released! And what a wee-wee! An HPSAUOC (High-Pressure-Sprinkly-Unexpectedly-Orange-Colour) style. But not a long one, and no pain with it, so that was good!
As I was cleaning and medicating Little Inchies bleeding fungal lesion, in between the stabs of pain as the Daktacort® 2% w/w Miconazole nitrate and hydrocortisone cream was applied, it dawned on me, (things like this do happen (occasionally). I spotted some empty clementine juice cans on the Ottoman. 
I wonder if these might be the reason the orange wee-wee?
The ankle-ulcer was looking far betterer, and Arthur Itis was not acting up too much either, which was a plus.
It might have been my eyes or desire, but when I sneezed, I’m sure the Big Belly Bernard shook less than usual? (Well, I can dream?)
Also, and as well as, Anne Gyna was kind to me. No Dizzy Dennis or Reflux Roger, Shaking Shaun or Back-Pain-Brenda visits!
Fair enough, Toothache Tim and Duodenal Donald were making up for this, and a sore throat was developing. But overall, this getting up late seems to suit me? But, of course, most likely it just fooled the other ailments temporarily. Arnie Schwarzeneggers? They’ll be back! Hehehe!
Washed and off to the kitchen. Where I took a distance shot from the kitchen unwanted, light & view-blocking, thick-framed windows, there were obviously designed by someone suffering from ‘Mere-Exposure Effect’ syndrome.
It was my Zyrophobia suffering, supercilious Brother-in-law Pete, who made me take a close-up, of the City Hospital. The poor lad will be in there this morning, having another biopsy done on his mystery ailment. I thought it might cheer him up a tad, reading this if he can afterwards. The yellow rectangle is the area I zoomed into for the second shot.
All the best, Pete, mate! Nowt you can do, but await the results now. I pray they are good news. I have thought you’d have escaped and taken a photo of the flats? Hehehe!
I made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, took the medications and got the thermometer and sphygmomanometer out. The machine was like me earlier this morning, not interested in working!
It took me three tries to get it to work. (it took me the same to get up! Hahaha!)
The plates of meat were giving me some stick, and for some unknown reason, the area around where the ankle ulcer comes up now and then was extremely itchy. Yet there were no signs of any inflammation or new growth? With the nails getting ever longer, I’d continued not to wear socks, I even took the slippers off to ease things.
But they’ll go back on after the 
ablutions are done.
The stomach felt a little firmer, I think. But this might be and usually is, a prewarning of the innards about to kick off. I anticipate a battle between Trotsky Terence and Constipation Conrad to ensue. Which will prevail I wouldn’t guess. Lately, it seems to go from one extreme to the other nearly every day. Still, it makes for a bit of interest. Haha!
Toothache Tim kicked off on the first sip of tea! That put the mockers on drinking ant brew for the rest of the day. Gangleboggleisations!
I made a start on the blogging update. It was as if someone was turning on a tap every half-hour or so. I swear you can see the imprint of the four-pronged walking stick, and outline of my feet in the carpet, to and from the wet room, I had hobble there so many times! Silver-Lining Search Result: But, at least I got the update done in reasonably good time, with only Shuddering Shoulder Shirley giving any real hassle. My thanks to Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, Shaking Shaun and Dizzy Dennis! Bless you, all!
After the umpteenth wee-wee, I made a mug of Glengettie tea and went on CorelDraw while it cooled down before trying it. Argh! Toothache-Tim, was not pleased, in the least! I threw it away. That’s the end of my tea drinking for the day! I took an extra Codeine 30g. (Too late now of course. Silly old sausage!)
I set up the template for today’s blog. Then went on the WordPress reader. Then onto the Facebooking, which I enjoy so much. Then it was time for the ablutions to be tended to.
I’d done the teeth, bloodlessly, but it was a bit painful with Toothache Tim nudging his way into the scene. (Swank-Adopted!) While I was moving the clothes, I’m sure I saw the shape of a rabbits head in the moved flannels. Can anyone else see it, or am I going daft? Or maybe I should say, dafter?
I photographed the stomach before and after the shower. But there was no difference as I could see.
The shaving activity brought about a few dropsies, not many. Razors (4), shaving foam can (2), and a decentish clouting of the back of the hand against the sink. The showering went fine, in fact so well, I was considering giving myself a medal. Hahaha!
I got dried off and set about the perfumery and medication duties. These took longer than the teggies, shaving and showering out together! Olive-piled the ear-holes first. No Saccades Sandra spray left to use, Grungleclapskin! Applied the Germoloid cream (Wince!). Then got some after-shave on the one tiny cut. Sprayed the Brute deodorant over the elephantine body. Last of the Brute spray used up! Got the Phopain gell well-rubbed into the knees. And carefully, Note no toe-stubbing 
or dropping of the showerhead again! Smug Mode Adopted! I made my way to the front room to get clothed.
I had to get the slippers on, a sharp intake of breath, and a silently mumbled ‘Argh!’ later, and I was ready to get the black bags and recycling prepared for taking downst
airs.
While doing this, I decided that tomorrow, I will try to catch a bus to town, (if they are running) and visit, (if they are open), the Poundland shop, now my curfew has been eased. It’s all a bit vague innit? Later I’ll ask on the Winwood Heights Facebook, is anyone knows about the buses and Poundland.
I got the bags made up, and onto the three-wheeled trolley walker. Off to the waste chute room. Gawd! the toes and plates were giving me agony! I pondered over whether going out tomorrow was a good idea or not after all?
I struggled a bit getting the bags in the chute, not because they were heavy or large, they weren’t. The problem was Shuddering Should Shirley had kicked off again, and she meant business this time. This encouraged the right legs involuntary drop-something and have a Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance. Nearly had me over, so it was a good thing I was in such confined space at the time!
I left the trolley in the lift lobby. taking a moody photo of it, with the shadows, as I returned to the flat, to pick up the fob key, just in case when I went down with the big bag of recyclables, I got locked out. (It has happened more than once, Tsk!)
Back and collected the trolley, using the walls in the narrow hallway, so I didn’t worry if I had a funny turn, the dancing returned, or Dizzy Dennis visited.
Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was merely giving the odd twitch now, but I knew she had not finished with me yet.
Waiting for the lift, I got the camera out, ready for when the lift doors opened. I’m glad no one was in it at the time. Haha!
Down to the ground floor. Met and had a few words with Ethel in the lobby. Then through the caretaker’s passage to the bins. Both of the caretakers were there outside, and Steve took the bag from me. A few words, during which Shirley gave them a display of quality Shoulder Shuddering. Which drew looks between the two men, and an “Are yer alright? and frowned foreheads. It’s so embarrassing when someone is nearby when this happens. I said I was fine, thanks. I must have looked a right pillock as I shook my way back inside.
I increased the heat to high in the crock-pot with the potatoes in, and opened a tin of peas and put them in a saucepan. Then, as Shirley was easing off, Duodenal Donald started, a bad do too, supported with a bit of stabbing from Anne Gyna. Ah, well, things had been to calm earlier on, it had to come.
I could find no details about the buses on the website. So asked on Winwood Heights Facebook, if anyone knew about the buses or Poundland store. Hugh ‘thinks’ the L9 is running in a Saturday timetable. If so, That’ll do me.
I decided to take some photos from the balcony. Seemed a good idea at the time.
I got the right side Metal-Spring controlled, that needs the recoiling bit pressed and pulled at the same time to do open it, (potentially lethal, but okay for Winwood Heights old folks to use) with merely a bruised finger and elbow this time. Then took a couple of pictures.
Tried Josie’s door again. No answer.
Tired out and still shaking a bit, I got the nosh prepared. I ate it in an auto-mode, no idea why, but as the concentration gave way to fatigue, I’m sure I enjoyed it.
Wash the pots up, and as the dying sunshine 
blasted its last beams on earth, I got the camera and tried to take a decent shot of the scene.
It dawned on me then, I can’t remember using the Porcelain Throne today? But being in the languorous, lackadaisical, lethargic state of mind I was in, I wasn’t sure or certain of anything.
I’m not sure what happened for the next half-hour or so, I sort of came-back into focus as I was in the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner, with my legs up high on the old swivel chair, and deep in thought about tomorrows plans to get out to town on the bus. Then I remembered that this will not be possible, I’d forgotten about Jenny’s helping me out ordering stuff for me, it’s being delivered Tuesday. Hey-ho! As much as I was looking forward to getting out, for some reason, this did not bother me? Maybe, I had underlying fears of going out after so many weeks lodged in the flat?
I soon found that Sweet Morpheous was uninterested in letting me get any rest. The Thought-Storms began, tormenting me with memories that I hadn’t recalled for years. I’d guess it was gone midnight by the time I finally managed to nod of.
Hey-ho!
04:00hrs: I woke up, for about the twentieth time, in imperative need of another wee-wee. I was out of the £300, second-hand, rickety recliner swiftly. I caught my balance, grabbed the stick, and hobbled over to the EOGPB (Emergency-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket). 
I found the bucket, too full to risk using again. And miraculously, I carried the bucket, and the walking stick, to the wet room, and arrived in time to avoid any leakages en route! A certain amount of smugness was gleaned from this little victory! 
155, Dia 69, Pulse 72 and temperature showing as just ‘Low’. Sys reading is a bit high. 
Unflappably, I just put the computer in sleep mode, and went and got two black bags made up, and limped to the waste chute with them. Returned to the apartment, and looked in the fridge to decide what to have for me nosh later on. 
I gave up, turned everything off, and tended to making up my own dinner. 
Got the plastic plate piled up with pretty fodder, and poddled to the recliner to digest the decent looking pot-luck, potlatch. Overall Taste-Rating: 5/10. 
Got the washing up done, and nipped to the wet room for freshen up. I took this photo of the just above the belly button burn mark, I got last night, and recall taking it to make up a funny idea I had for a graphic. But blown if I can remember what my idea was now! Something about a black hole?
Many get-ups for a wee-wee again. Not easy having so many, in my physical state. I’m concerned that the walking stick ferrules will wear down to a frazzle! Hehehe! 
02:50hrs: Woke finding I had a touch of involuntary Clinomania. I must have nodded off five or six times, waking, nodding repeatedly. On the final awakening, the 
Things activated, by Trotsky Terence, I had no in part how things went, the moment I got seated. All over in seconds, but a mess like never before had to be sort and cleaned afterwards. The cistern did not cope with clearing things and had to be flushed a few times, and buckets of water added, to assist it! Cor Blimey, worra struggle! 
I sat to get the computer going, and two things registered with the grey-cell box. The feet and toes started stinging ‘after’, I’d sat down and taken my weight off of them? Secondly: T
What an absolutely cheer-making, super-duper, crackerjack, unbelievable, corking, almost bleeding, Whoopsiedangleplop and Accifauxpa-free session! 
Cleaning the teeth, I began to think that I had slipped back in time somehow, and did not have the stroke, Peripheral Neuropathy, Toothache, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley, Ane Gyna, Reflux Roger or Shaking Shaun at all! 
The teeth cleaning was completed without any droppings, or gum bleeding! Fair enough, the shaving did bring a few of both, but still just two knicks and three razor dropsies. 
Now, when it came to the medicating, I was expecting the ailments to produce painful, pestering-predicaments and perhaps the odd agonistic moment. But, No! Even Little Inchies removal of the crusted blood, produced next to no blood when the usually horrendously hurtful applicating of the Daktacort was done, there was hardly any stinging at all! I wanted to cry with joy, laugh out loud… But how can this happen? To me, with my luck? Better make the most of it, I thought!
Amazingly, the miracles of this morning had not finished. For after cleaning up the chair and glide, and checking myself over, the only part of my anatomy giving me any real grief was the shoulder, and both Duodenal Donald and Anne Gyna had kicked off. Could have been so much worse! The legs were fine, although the feet and toes were stinging.
pay for, if available, a fully waterproof wristlet alarm, that I can wear when washing or showering, just in case this happens again. 
I made a brew and remembered to do the morning medications I’d forgotten about earlier. I think the HP readings were good, considering what I’d just gone through. The thermometer worked for once, showing a 33.3° I must say the tastes nice in these mugs that Jenny gave me ♥.
Back to the computer, Duodenal Donald calming down now. 
I checked on the Amazon email. Now it tells me that the Clementine juice is expected to be delivered twixt today and Tuesday? No tracker on it, though? Suspicions aroused! But I can go to the site on Wednesday for a refund? Mmm? 
The intercom rang, luckily I was on my way for yet another wee-wee, and I heard it. T’was the Iceland delivery arriving. 
The chap arrived, and asked me how I put up with all the noise? Which confused me a tad. I got the bags into the kitchen. 
There seemed a lot of things on that order. So, I went through them and soon realised I was going to have problems with getting all the items in the freezer. And a bit of ingenuity was going to be needed if I was to get them into the available space. 
If anyone in the flats would like them, first come, first given. I’ll take a photo of them, so you know what they are. Hang on a tick! Here they are. 
The injured shoulder was getting a bit more bothersome, so I made a brew, and took an extra Codeine 60mg. I’ll skip the evening one, don’t want to take too many. 
Back again top the computing. The warm williwaw winds were still howling. I shut the balcony door, but could still hear it. It must be bad for anyone with good hearing. 
I grabbed at the few fish lumps from the floor to retrieve them, hitting my already injured shoulder against the stove. Inspected the food, and decided it would do, and began to put the salvaged fodder on the plate… Argh! The message had belatedly got through to the brain, that I had burnt my wobbly-over-fleshed tummy! Hahaha! 
A can of the San Benedetto, Prima Sremitura Clementina drink. What a mouthful! Haha!
I’d got a thin quilt over my naked, anaemic, ailment tortured, aching, phenomenally heavy and flobby-stomached body. But it had to come off, the fibre on the material was catching of the overgrown Howard Hughes-like painful toenails.
But thankfully, my growths are not that bad… yet! I must try again to find someone to cut the nails for me. I’ll inquire (if I can get an answer this time), at the Sherwood Health Centre on Elmswood Gardens to see if they are open for feet treatment again after the lock-down.
03:40hrs: I awoke, the expergefactor, not surprisingly, was wanting a wee-wee, and willingly risked life and limb, in a desperate dash, come hobble to get to the well-used-overnight, slightly ponging GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Bucket). I made it with seconds to spare. Out-shot the HPLBSS (Hosepipe-Like-Blasting-Suddenly-Stopping) release! The only difference to yesterdays repeated visits was a change in colour. The strong orange tinge had become a saffron yellow one now. But, still no pain with it, so I wasn’t complaining, considering how viciously it blasted out! 
As the brain joined me, and my balance was ensured, I took the GPEB with me to get it washed and antisepticised, and I limped with it, getting it tangled with the four-pronged walking stick and my left leg at one time, (Quiet funny, even at the time), en route to the wet room. No injuries or toppling over was involved. Smug Expression Adopted!
Python’s 
I got the kettle on, and made up and drank a sachet Macrogol drink, and took a Senna, along with the morning doses.
All looked okay to me. 
As I put on the jacket, I’d not worn it for months, I smelt its aroma, cor, it was mucky and a bit smelly. 
I got some of the potatoes in the big slow-cooker and added the mushrooms to them.No idea what I aim to have, but it must go with mushrooms and boiled spuds, Hahaha!
Got the black bags to the waste chute and put down. (Oh, the feet and toes!) I’m getting near to the darkness now again, emotionally.
the glass and white bag. 
Off for another wee-wee, this one was turning back to orange coloured? Mmm?
I got the nosh prepared and served up, it didn’t look too bad, left the pots soaking in the sink. 
And to think, there are people out there who are bored with the lock-down?
04:25hrs: I woke, with the tummy rumbling, and some wind fluttering from the rear-end. This was different! Aha, the Porcelain Throne needed. Maybe this time, I can actually move something, if the Macrogol has done its thing, I thought. Action needed. 
I glanced at the pins (legs) before attempting to move, it seemed the left one had put on some fluid or weight, the right one had lost weight. I know this happening is regular, but today it seemed a more marked difference. Hey-ho!
The toes and feet were just as bad though. But during the short hobble to the wet room, I recognised that many ailments were on strike this morning. Hehe! Saccades-Sandra, Duodenal Donald and Reflux Roger pains were none existent! Anne Gyna, Shaking Shaun and Arthur Itis were hardly giving any hassle at all! Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters were going off and on at will. Shoulder-Shuddering-Shirley as having the odd jerk. It’s just as well, the toes and feet were bad enough on their own.
I got down on the disabled raised Porcelain Throne and instant action! For a second or two, then I hit a half-in/half-out, no-go period. Which was not wasted, I got on the crossword book and got a few solutions done, and the ‘flow’ began again. The pain was alarming, but it did it all of its own accord, no effort needed from yours truly at whatever. All I had to do was bear the pain. It’s alife innit, gerrin’ old! But once again, things could have been a lot worse. Harold’s Haemorrhoids and Little Inches fungal lesion had both only produced a few specks of blood! I moved my slight inkling of semi-hope, up to a Semi-Contented-Status. I still felt that things were going too well, and a distant, nebulous, concern lingered in my mind.
Off to the kitchen, took the medications as best I could. The medicine avalanche and tumble yesterday has left me guessing at what tablets are what, from the selection, I’d retrieved from the floor. 
Then I made a mug of the Glengettie Gold tea. 
and it came on. Having some bother now, ain’t I?
my dragged feet and the four-pronged walking stick, searching to no avail. Grrr! 
I got carried away clearing up and made another couple of boxes to go to the waste chute. I got them dropped down, and a feeling of expectancy of something different about to happen on my way back, not necessarily a good thing either is on its way, came over me. Someone or thing had walked over my grave!
Boy, the legs were cold (not wearing trousers does that to you, sometimes). Yet the sunshine outside was strong. Jane said she went out earlier and it was nippy. I suddenly got the feeling that I had left the tap running in the wet room, panicked, muttered something like ‘Argh! back in a bit’, and shot off to infestigate, well investigate I should have said. All was okay in the wet room, and I returned quickly and explained my ignorant behaviour. It was hard to hear what Jane was saying, a very echoey line, and she was talking rather fast. 
I pressed on with this blog for a few hours. 
It brought out the wrinkles a bit, mind. Haha! 
I got on with sorting the meal. Ended up with a delightful plate of, Mushroom pate (Sorry Jane). sweet potato fritters (Excellent!). Halloumi sticks (Not bad), mushrooms (seasoned with hickory, soya and sea salt). Pickled Gherkins, a mix of sour Morrocan, and sweet Netherlands tomatoes. One of the freebie red apples from Serbia. One super-tasty sourdough muffin with Marmite, and a pot of lemon mousse. having to use the Ski first, as they have a later date than the Tesco ones that Jenny got for me. All in all, a Flavour-R
I found a 1962 film about to start, on channel 81 Freeview. ‘Crooks Anonymous’, starring Leslie Phillips, Stanley Baxter & Wilfrid Hyde-White, James Robertson Justice, Dick Emery, 
03:25hrs: I stirred into a loose form of pretend-life, and recognised that the need for the Porcelain Throne was somewhat urgent. Without much thought or common sense, I attempted straight away, to remove my overly-stomached torso from the £300 second-hand recliner. 
A hard truth to put into understandable words, but I’ll try my bestest, such a lot of calamities came within seconds of each other. 
Off to take the medications and make a brew, and the letter that arrived last night was perused. 
Then, I realised I had not used the Cif 100% mould remover, I’d used Cif 100% Oven & Grill Remover! 
I made a brew and had a look outside. Some dogs walking their owners were about, so I got the camera to try and take a few shots. The dogs were a bit too lively for me to catch a photo of them with their owners.
As I checked on the potatoes in the slow-cooker, the intercom burst into life. It was the Amazon delivery of black bags and the electric tin (can) opener. I pointed rolled a can of G&T to the chap, and he was very pleased with it, and the genuine thanks I gave him. 
Having got the peas in the saucepan, I set about making up some black bags. The roll of sacks in my hand in this picture contained 200! 
Back up to get the nosh sorted. Very tasty. Flavour rating of 8.8/10, the potatoes that the Government had kindly given me in the food parcel, were excellent, slow-cooked with a drop of balsamic and malt vinegar added. The flavour soaked in well with using the crock-pot to sort of marinating. 
014:20hrs: I lay there in the £300, dilapidated, second-hand, c1968, gut-wrenchingly horrible beige coloured, not working, rickety recliner. I stayed there for a while, uninterested in anything practical, in an unconventional, incredibly optimistic frame of mind, almost contended.
04:40hrs: Then I woke up. In need of a wee-wee and the Porcelain Throne. I grabbed the stick, caught my balance, and poddled off to the wet room. Where the wee-wee, for a change, came first. It was of the ELPJL (Extra-Long-Powerful-Jet-Like) fashion. Yet, it was painless! The evacuation can be described as meat-ball-like (Sorry, but it’s true).
I spotted some marks on the arm, Clopidogrel Clive inspired, or maybe Myasthenia Gravis Mavis? I rubbed some of the antiseptic creams into the area, and I felt a bit of a tender area on the other side, so 
investigated. I think this might have been my leaning against something in the hours spent and failing to get to sleep last night. Hey-ho! 
I caught the tops of the toes on my right foot underneath the cabinet door. Bending some of the overgrown nails backwards. 
Well, that ensured I was in an alert and awake state now. Haha! 
light & view-blocking, kitchen window. It came out, alrightish.
I got a brew of Thomsons Punjana tea made, took the medications and did the medicationalisationings.
Got the nosh started. Lamb burgers, boiled spuds, tomatoes, sugar snap peas, and all prepared and served up.
04:50hrs: I woke, and within seconds of attempting to encourage my brain to join me in activating, the need for a wee-wee appeared. I removed my overly-stomached torso from the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly-foul beige coloured, none-working rickety recliner; and limped, literally, to the GPEWWB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Wee-Wee-Bucket) and got two shocks at the same time, no, three actually! Tsk! 
As I began to appreciate the lack of much bother from Duodenal Donald and conceded that the toenails and Arthur Itis were going to be today’s top-dog ailments. (They gave it away by being so painful, Hehe!) 
I went to the wet room, taking care not to stub the overly-long-nailed toes. I washed things up, put the jammie-bottoms in the bucket to soak, and had a stand-up wash and shave. Again surprises, Nicodemus’s visit ended, (It’s going to be a start-stop day methinks). And hardly any dropsies at all! Just the razor (2), and the 
toothpaste! It was a confusing start to the day. With merit points, and the usual Whoopsiedangleplops.It looked like the reactions to the Clopidogrel is returning again on both legs and feet.
Then the intercom rang and lit up. It was the Iceland delivery that had arrived. The same chap as yesterday, I think. I pointed out the can pf G & T the side for him in thanks. Off he trotted, and I got the bags indoors, and to the kitchen. 
A lot of stuff to find room for again. Amongst them were some new salt & vinegar flavoured Fish Chunks, if all goes well today, I plan to have some of these, with potatoes, tomatoes and sugar snap peas. That’s the plan anyway. Getting the things away was a battle and-a-half! They had sent some of the Naturally Imperfect chips as well, so I made a point of making room for them in the freezer, at the cost of dishing some bits to make room for them. 
I got some of the potatoes in the sizeable crock-pot cooking. A bit of sea salt and vinegar added.
I cleaned it up alright but getting my stomach-dominated bulk back up on my feet, was no easy feat! Gawd knows how long it took me. I ended up crawling on my knees to the side counter, (it’s easier to grab hold of) and hauled myself up, on the third attempt, and much silent howling and cursing, back into a semi-perpendicular position. 
I tried to look on the bright side, but it was difficult with the tears running from the eyes… only joking! 
I made a brew and checked the potatoes in the big slow-cooker. They were still rock-hard! A shame that. I made sure they were on the high setting.
Maybe today, I can get some graphic done on CorelDraw for the posts? 
She took it to deliver to a homeless shelter charity who care for street sleepers. I thanked her for her kindness, and off she flew. Bless her cotton socks! 
They even supplied a mass of paperwork with them. Some coronavirus advice, and must and mustn’t doe’s check-list. 
I went to check on the spuds progress. Coming on alright. I got the thighs on the plate and added tomatoes, a Marmite cheese medallion and silverskin onions. The slow-cooker cooked potatoes were great tasting, I added some splashes of Hoisin sauce on them. A small can of garden peas as well. The orange kindly donated on my food parcel was almost juiceless. The fowl were not very flavoursome at all. Overall the meal as good, all the same. The Muller light lemon yoghourt and the Clementine drink were lip-smacking good, as usual. An 8.8/10 for Taste rating! 
From approximately midnight, I had Thought Storms aplenty. Broken by a precious few nod-offs, they were only a few minutes long, the instant I jumped awake, it was as if I had been searching in my slumber, for worries, concerns, and fears, building them up for when I woke, and the soul-destroying Brain-Storming recommenced! 
As I gained some semi-balance and was reaching for the four-pronged walking stick, and Dizzy Dennis had a go at me. (He’s not attacked me so ferociously for a while, but he made up for it this time!) I floundered and fortuitously fell back in the chair, via hitting my bum and piles on the way down against the arm. By ‘ecky-thump, I felt that! It took me a few minutes to gather myself, get over the shock, and then I tried (successfully) again to get up on my plates (feet). 
I had a quick check on the latest sad news from the virus.
The intercom rang forth, it was the Iceland delivery. It’ll or nothing innit? Haha!
Into the kitchen to do the washing up. I spotted two youths on the bottom field, a skateboarder and a cyclist, so my hackles-lifted. I’m not sure if they were rolling spliffs, cigarettes, or taking crack, but I took this decentish shot of them. When I viewed it on the camera, I realised the Saccades Sandra as playing and jumping about my focussing, shame! I used this shot as a background and made a Thoughts graphic in the morning. 
03:15hrs: I woke up, with the theme tune, “Life, is the name of the game, and I wanna play the game with you” ringing in my head? 
I shall not go into too much detail of the terrible, trying, tantamount to agony-ridden evacuation. But Constipation Conrad had the upper-hand in the battle. I was on the Throne for about 20-minutes. The crossword book as tackled. Blood flowed. And all with the one line of the ‘the Generation Game’ milling about in my head. Hehe! 
seemed to be working okay. 
Then, carrying the tea into the junk room, I dropped the mug! I was so low in spirits, it didn’t seem to bother me much. I just cleaned up the mess, thinking how lucky I was in not breaking the cup.
Much CorelDrawing, making graphics for the blog tomorrow. 
at me as if I’m an idiot. 
I got the nosh sorted out. Chicken breast, and tried the weirdly named Iceland fries, branded as ‘Naturally Imperfect Chips’. They were okay. The chicken breasts were a bit rubbery. Some seaweed crispies and an apple on the side on another plate. Two mini-Vienesse lemon cakes. No, that’s what they are called. I went to look at the part empty box. Lemon Whirls. A can of the delightfully tangy Clementine drink, too.