Monday 8th January 2018

Armenian: Երկուշաբթի 8 Հունվար 2018 թ

0245hrs: I woke up and immediately the belief that an upcoming recumbentibus would arrive today: The day I have to get everything done early so I can relinquish my occupation of the flat for the day – while the crew remove and install the new radiators. Nothing could exclude this fear, and my grey-cells mused, fretted and the apprehensiveness had started Duodenal Donald off. Coping with change and stress is no longer my strong-point.

Imbibed the medications and did the Health Checks. The computer on and straight to getting yesterdays diary finished and posted off.

This is not going to be a good day. The rumbling innards have started already, Duodenal Donald and Hippy Hilda are both in fourth-gear, I am anxious about events about to take place and have to evacuate the apartment for the day. Worried? Me? Yes! No doubt about this. But can still feel the appreciation of the help Jenny has been.

I might get some photographs taken later when I go out on the enforced abdication of the flat?

A slight panic overtook me as I was adding now received an appointment for the INR test to the calendars; thus followed, atypical of me, “Panic at will period” Tsk!

I went to check the dentist appointment day, all I knew was it was in January sometime and feared I might have missed it. To my horror, it was not in the written or online calendars! I flapped about getting the files out of the case for the medical section and after a while found the letter – The date was for the 14th, so I wrote this and put it in the Google calendar – then I realised it was for 14th March, not January! So I had to change it all again. All this with Duodenal Donald in the most unhappy of moods with me!

Made a mug of tea, no calls to the Porcelain Throne yet, that caused a mini-worry; if I don’t pass and have to go out for the day, I could find myself in difficulties?

I made a start on this blog up to here. Gawd, the innards are growling away today.

I got the mobile and camera in the coat pocket while I thought of it.

Hello; off to the Throne I go.

No movement, only wind, wind and more wind! I found I’d left the flipping fan-heater on all night. Snug as a bug I was there, reading the Lenigrad book. Only 60 pages left to peruse. But it was damned cold when I came out, especially with no radiators working.

Had a go on WordPress Reader then Facebook, cause I felt confident I would be far too drained and tired tonight to do anything but sleep.

Made a brew and did a TFZer graphic, A Mystery Photograph Quiz. Asking the TFZers if anyone can tell me what was going on here? Haha!

When I went to do the ablutions, it was virtual agony from Hippy Hilda as I painfully put on the socks and trousers. No wonder this post sounds like it is written by a pilgarlic pensioner who is on the verge of losing it altogether – I am that man! Hehe!

The workmen arrived, and I greeted them, had a laugh and then set-off out, the start of the marathon all-day-hobble!

A quick look out of the window before departing revealed a frostiness of immense magnitude.

Off I went, down the lift and out through the lobby doors. Which was not responding to the release button being pressed? But I managed to heave the doors open on the end and escape. Handy this, if there was to be a fire that needed the building evacuating? Tsk! Just a thought.

I called in the Obergruppenfurheresses Den on the way out. Wardens Julie and Deana were busy.

Had a chinwag and a few laughs (Not many) with some other tenants.

Here on the left, is the map I made up of the route I took after leaving the warmth of the hut on my marathon hobble:

Flatulence accompanied me for much of the course.

However, Hippy Hilda started to like the exercise the further I went? Duodenal Donald, Haemorrhoid Harold, Anne Gyna and Hernia Harry and the poorly painful plates, were not so keen.

The frozen-solid leaves on Chestnut Walk gave off a warning for me to take care in the limp down the hill into Sherwood.

This tale of the hobble, may get little out of sync time and happenings wise, I’m afraid to say. This is because usually after I go out for any length of time. The first thing I will do on getting back to the cold, lonely flat (Hehe, couldn’t resist putting this in, in search of sympathy!), would be to make a list of reminders on the notepad to use in the following morning. Then, when I update the blog, I can consult it. Although the order that the photographs stored on the SDH card helps. But tonight, I got home to the mayhem of four young, fit, good-looking, healthy, robust, well-paid men (Makes me sick! Hehehe!) in my abode, working merrily away finishing the installation of the dreaded new Storage Heaters for me. (I’ve done a separate post of this part of the day, funny and in rhyme of sorts). The hecticness meant I did not do the note scribbling reminders last night, you see?

Down onto Mansfield Road, up the hill an down through Carrington.

Down the incline and passing the Lidl store, where I half-expected the staff to run out into the road and give me glares and sneers like they do when I go in the shop, but they didn’t. Hehehe!

Along and passing the Clarendon College, as was when I attended night classes for the Elementary and Associate Member of the Grocers Institute. It’s amalgamated with other places of learning and is now called Nottingham College. I had no education at school and left at 14 years-of-age. I learnt how to survive bullies and when to duck, that was about all. I got sidetracked there, sorry.

Up to the pelican lights and crossed over the road. Much to the displeasure of a Yuppy type looking fellow in a BMW, who was not in the least bit pleased at having to stop his dark blue car at all, to let me over the road.

I could not hear or read his lip, so I don’t know what it was he was saying to me, but his accompanying single finger sticking up, indicated he was not a happy chappie.

I pressed on up the hill.

Thinking to myself, why had he been so upset at me crossing the lights? As I was doing this, a Nottingham Pavement Cyclist nearly hit me as he sped by from behind of me, on his bike. He did the same thing further up the pavement as he passed another pedestrian. I’m glad to report that this chap shouted after him and waved his fist at him! The whole world of manners has changed along with the PC brigade gaining more power. Good job an altercation didn’t ensue, cause that pedestrian walker ahead, would not have stood a chance when it came to court. All the cyclist needed to do was tell the Judge or Magistrates, he was a sex-change Muslim Lesbian ex-offender, a Member of Parliament and was saving the world by not using fossil fuels! Haha!

To the top of the hill and right around the Rock Cemetry gates.

More memories were triggered at this spot.

In there, is the grave of Watson Fothergill. The most elegant architect whose work I have ever come across.

Down Forest Road East and Coalville Street to the Guinness Trust cleverly name Coalville Court, Home for the elderly.

I popped in to discuss the availability of any flats and the costs etc. It turns out there is 24hour cover 7/7 here. A cafe where you can order your breakfast, tea or evening meal. I was shown around two single flats. Very nice, and they decorate it for you when you move in with your selection of colours. One is free now, but they have to get things sorted before they can allow anyone to occupy it. The buses are not far away, and every three minutes into town weekdays. Regular Saturday and Sunday services. I can catch one to Mansfield, Derby, Hucknall, Bulwell, Arnold, Carlton etc. I was beginning to get excited about this. Then the rent was mentioned. Oh dearie me!

Mind you, if like Welsh Bill the electricity charges double with the new radiators, and Herbert keeps on with his noises above but, knowing my luck there will be none-available then.

I filed these thoughts tenuously in my grey-cells and departed. Hobbled along to the Arboretum via the side entrance for a change. This brought me out, or preferably in, much closer to the Bell and Cannons that Britain nicked from the Chinese. The Chinese bell tower (pagoda) was designed in 1857 by Marriott Ogle Tarbotton as a war memorial and built in 1862. The bell was looted by British troops from a temple in Canton during the Anglo-Chinese war (Opium War) of 1857-61. Two of the cannon were captured at Sebastopol.

Down the centre path on my way to the pond, where I had planned to feed the Mallard Ducks with the earthworm pellets and pigeons with some seed.

The pond water was frozen solid, with food thrown onto it and laying there in the ice, untouched.

The only birds in the place were the captive ones! These parakeets were lovely; they reminded me so much of my Australian cyber-love, Marie, she has one as a pet.

Chagrined at failing to see and talk to my beloved mallards. I left and decided, being as there was a lot of time to kill before having to get back to the flat, I’d walk up the hill and down passed the Forest and had a perusal around the Asda (Walmart) store on Hyson Green.

Mistake that!

By the time a got to the place, the feet were giving me some stick. Then I had to stray around inside, killing time by pretending to look at the clothing section. But when I got to the foodstuffs, in my element here, I realised this was going to cost me. An hour or so later, I’d virtually filled both bags at the self-serve checkouts. They had curried baked beans on offer at 50p a can! But only had six left on the shelves, so naturally, I took all six. A bright idea, with how the feet were, that. Adding milk, crisps, garden peas and lentil snacks to the basket. Dimwit came to mind later.

No chance of my walking to town now. I waited for and got on a Tram. I dislike using these nowadays. You have to remember to swipe your Pensioners Free Bus-Pass before getting on and will get put off if any checkers get on to find you have forgotten to swipe the card. They are filthy inside: food dropped on the floor, clients giving abuse to each other, loud music: drugs being smoked (I think judging by the smell the roll-up was giving off?). 90% of the passengers on their mobile phones, almost shouting at whoever is on the other end. And, there were no seats free! Peoples Boeotian nature comes out when there is no conductor on the trams. Add all this to my having the weight of the worm pellets and birdseed to carry with me. I am a right Shmendrik!

Got off the tram at the Theatre Royal, had to step over what looked like a freshly regurgitated pizza to me, near the tram seats. Still, more time to kill, I wandered through Trinity Square, my rate of knots had declined with each hurtful step now. I called in the Wilko Store, having plans for only a walkabout. Came out having purchased Ginko, Fragrance booster, St Peters Worts, Eyelid spray and a wooden spatula. Why? I think I was so tired and might have been having a funny-spell?

Made my way to the Poundland shop on Fletchergate. To see if they had Chocolate almonds, misshapes of chocolate brazils or Pork Pies on sale. They hadn’t.

So I left being accosted by three people collecting and trying to get people to sign up for monthly donations for the PDSA. I was polite enough not to ignore them. And explained that I support the Nottingham Hospice and the salvation army and regularly give to Big Issue sellers. I am being hounded by appeals for water in the third world and other daily requests on TV and through the Royal Mail and will not sign up for anything else; but, I gave a donation now cause you made an effort. And gave him a few quid. I might not have bothered talking. The obviously parrot-learnt schpeel came out, with an upturned lip sneer and a look of incredulousness, when I walked away.

I went to the M & S store, and down to the food hall. Struggled on my wandering about the store, but determined to find some short-dated fodder. I found a box of chips and some Dinky Melton Pork Pies. These still cost twice as much as their Morrison counterparts!

A little earlier than planned, I made my way to the bus stop. No more photographicalisationing now, the bags were taking all my concentrations to carry, and the pain from the plates-of-meat was torture. Got on the bus and arrived back at the flats, but oddly, no memory of the journey – maybe I fell asleep?

Dropped off the bus and to the hut. I indeed fell asleep in the Obergruppenfurheress’s Social Shed!

After starting to talk to the lady there, who was also having her heaters installed today, I drifted off a few times, waking occasionally but no recollections of who was there or said what. I have a feeling, I might have spoken to Warden Deana.

Woke again later, and Deana was gone. I made my way back to the flat.

T’was mayhem I say!

An hour or so later they were cleaning up after finishing the job. A chap showed me the radiators, not how to changed or adjust them mind. Hehe! A little chat and they were off.

I did a quick look around to see what needed sorting.

Oh dear, this will have to wait until I get over the marathon hobble.

Got the short-dated dinner going.

Only the disappointing chips needed any heating up.

I need not have bothered. The chips were bland and tasteless. I might have well heated some cardboard up to eat. The beetroots were bitter. The mini-pork pies were just about okay. Had to add some Soy sauce to spice it all up a bit. Rated this effort at 4/10!

The tomatoes were not too bad. Left most of the chips and all of the beetroot.

The flat was feeling nice and warm.

Did the pots and settled to watch Law & Order on the TV. Fell asleep during the first set of commercials.

Woke up in the early hours, feeling so cold! Got up and got a thick quilt and threw it over me. I put this phenomenon down to the heaters settling in.

Drifted off into the land of Nod again.