Getting bad again, people dying, others in pain,
Those who moan about a lockdown again…
Others worried; what will a lockdown gain?
Well, it might just prevent some folks from death and pain!
Has compassion and caring… has gone down the drain?
We can’t stay in our homes forever’ say residents in one of Nottinghamshire’s most vaccinated areas
Ed Cleator, 42, who works as a product manager, lives in Tollerton – and he told Nottinghamshire Live that getting the vaccination was the best thing to do. “We can’t all hide, we can’t all stay in our homes forever so you’ve got to do something – that is the best thing to do for everybody,” said Mr Cleator.
I agree with his wanting folk to get vaccinated – even if it’s all a worldwide con by pharmaceutical companies to make money, or Governments to increase taxes without much resistance, or part of Tony Blair’s ploy to get back into number ten! Maybe even an undeclared invasion plot by the planet Omnicronski?
However, despite the Conspiracy Theorists, who march en masse without wearing masks and demand not to be forced to put on a facemask in shops… well, anywhere really, people are still dying.
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LOCAL NEWS SNIPPETS
What’s with all the gun-crazy youths nowadays?
I see little incentive to give them praise,
Mayhaps they are scared, to get their takeaways…
Cause the other spotty-faced youths and tearaways…
Might also have guns, used in the shadows and subways?
Though now they use them in shops and on highways…
My hopes for the future beings, it just dismays!
Nottingham Police Alert!
The Nottingham Police seem to have failed to notice the odd printing on this Alert. These are the people we trust to catch criminals, be alert themselves, investigate murders, robberies, muggings, shoplifting etc. every day in my City.
Off fog-off! Hehe!
Hope they’ve not been defanged!
So, Her Honour, Judge Julia Warburton, then decided, after being conned by the defence money-grabber lawyer, Ms Hocknell, into thinking the 21 times being sentenced criminal, only did it through being drunk? So, she doesn’t even send him to prison, but helps him by putting him on a sort of AA meeting list? A suspended sentence, as Ms (Lets vote Liberal) Hocknell told the so-called judge; He’d reached the end of the road in what prison can do for him? Namby-pamby pillocks like her, giving help, without any thought for the next victim, for I guarantee there will be one, the fact the swine could have killed someone being drunk and driving as well, no licence, no insurance etc. The inconvenience suffered by the victims… Pathetic!
Part of the Inchcock Local News Snippets Series
Sorry, it’s a late blog, but I, but I’ve been u tp the neck in it trying to get caught up[ after 19hr visit to the hospital. And, my sweetheart Gillie, who does not want to adopt me, is far too young for me, the best-looking female I’ve seen in donkey’s years, a kind gal, who gets my ticker going at a fair rate, came home with me today. After going with me for the Booster jab, shopping, and heartstring-pulling. I must ask her to let me take a photograph of her, I forgot to take the camera with me as well. Ah, ♥
01:00hrs: Woke, no wee-wee wanted? I was in a somewhat vague haze to start with, just went with the flow… sort of.
Up caught my balance, and off to the kitchenette, and made a brew of Glengettie tea. Then back into the main junk room with the mug, and got the computer on… but not for long, an urgent message from the innards sent in haste to the wet room and Porcelain Throne.
And what an odd session it was! I got settled, and the movement began at the slightest effort from me. It slid out painlessly, undemandingly, smoothly and pretty quickly, too! No signs of a struggle, and absolutely mess-free!
Add to this, that there was no bleeding whatsoever; and for a while, I thought I must still be laying on the uncomfortable, c1968 recliner, and dreaming that this was happening? Amazing!
I got the updating all finished and posted the blog off. Sent the email link. Went on Facebooking catch-up. That cost me two hours, but I do love it so. But today, I have got to get a few templates done, I’ve none left to use!
I made a brew of Thompsons Punjana, and the second call to the Porcelain Throne arrived, and very urgent too! In fact, an embarrassing leakage arrived before I got settled down on the Throne. (Shame and self-loathing time!) The flow was stickier but still painless! Soon over, and left me with a filthy gooey mess to clean up on the floor, Throne and myself! This put me galvanically into Depression Defcon Two-level! Cleaning up again, took me yonks.
The Subconjunctival haemorrhage eye was stingy just a bit, no real pain as such.
I read and replied to some WP comments, got CorelDraw on to upload photos, and then made a strat on graphic creating, for the template making. This is going to be a mammoth job.
First things first, though, a wee-wee, washed and made a mug of Glengettie.
The view from the kitchen window had acquired a beautiful red tinge. So I took this picture of it. Not very good, but of course it was the Canon Camera being used.
I made the tea and used the Evolve Hypromellose eye drops, I had leftover from the last time the blood vessels burst. I struggled just like before to get the stuff into the eye, and lost a lot of it down my face. I wish the hospital people would have told me how to put them in, cause I can’t get the hang of it. I’ll recheck the eye later on, but now, back to the CorelDrawing.
Stretching to use the picker upperer to retrieve a dropped letter, I had a tumble and clouted my head and right shoulder. Henceforth things are using photographs as reminders and details remain sketchy until I seemed to come back as I was making a brew. The intercom flashed, it was the Iceland delivery, that I’d forgot all about coming.
Took the bags through to the kitchen, I do recall being aghast at the green potatoes in the large bog of potatoes delivered, and struggling to get the things the freezer as it meant bending down, which was currently very painful.
Feeling unwell, tired and only really want to go back to sleep?
I think I did some CorelDrawing, but not much is there as I type this, in the morning.
I stopped everything, to go and get the ablutions tackled. But was just not up to it, the head was spinning, the shoulder and head aching, and I just sat down to rest.
Not sure how long for, must have been a few hours or so. I constantly got up, checked lights, windows, faucets etc., I couldn’t get top sleep, and the Thought Storms were rampant, getting no rest at all.
When the door chimes rang out.
I struggled with surprising difficulty to the door, it was the postman, who immediately showed concern over how I looked and inquired if I was alright, “Would you like me to call you an ambulance?”
He delivered a letter and a parcel.
I think Sister Jane rang. All confused.
Just what I needed in the envelope, a multi questionnaire from Nottingham City Homes to be filled in. I’ve already got the two NHS ones, the monthly passing and BP one, and Covid-19 to fill in, and can’t face doing them how I feel, Humph! The box was the Amazon Dettol that the tracker tells me will be here Monday.
I left everything and sat down again, and stayed there for hours, getting up only for wee-weeing occasionally. Eventually nodding off.
I woke about 23:00hrs, feeling horrifically unwell, but not poorly-sick, really. I got some nosh made. Didn’t eat much of it.
Then got the computer on to finish this post, and let the mind stew as it was going to anyway.
00:30hrs: The demand for a wee-wee welcomed me as I woke up. I bravely forced my unfortunately ever-heavier stomached body from the comfort of the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, sickeningly-beige-coloured, rickety, uncomfortable, recliner. Up on to my feet. I caught my balance, visited the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket). I had an LPPP (Long-Powerful-Persistent-Peeing) session), followed by a period of CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribbling), that surprisingly, lasting for minutes!
I made a brew and washed the pots from last night that I’d left to soak.
Took a photo of the morning view, not a good one, now the Nikon camera has conked-out, I have to use the Canon camera, which doesn’t take night shots well. And then started updating the Monday blog.
And got it completed in record time, I think. NN (Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters) and SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley), were the only ailments that gave me any problems, they were both only intermittent, and I coped amazingly well. To start with, thus, my Smug-Mode was engaged for a while. I do hope they still behave when I have to take the shave!
The six wee-wees taken during the updating were of the WUNT (Weak-Unwilling-Negligible-Trickling) style, and the CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribbling), but only a few drops and much weaker than the first one.
All done, I posted off the diary. Sent the Email links. Pinterested a couple of snaps. And delved into Facebook updating…
This was when the Smug-Mode died. NN, SSS and even Neuropthy Pete gave me a sat-down right leg dance! With the c1962 cabinet where I was seated on the computer, which still has some heavy wooden doors. I involuntarily tested their sturditity with my shin, ankle and knee a few times. Which set of CCP (Cathy’s Cartilage Protella) hurting somewhat. That bit of good luck didn’t last long! But at least I got the updating done with relative ease, so, I’m not moaning… much, anyway! Hehehe!
After the Facebooking was done, I went on the WP comments, then over to the WordPress Reader section.
Each of the four wee-wees taken during the Facebooking updating was of the WUNT (Weak-Unwilling-Negligible-Trickling) style again, but the CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribbling) was far less.
Ah, the joys and mysteries of an ageing bladder! Hehe!
The morning summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived, and I poddled to the wet-room. It was almost an exact repeat of yesterdays messy evacuation, but this time, with a decent amount of pain as the bale of straw looking torpedo gained its freedom. (It felt about the same size too!) Several manual refills of the tank were needed to clear the product, and some BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) annoying bending to clean things up. After cleaning up the room and myself, I generously stayed a lot of air freshener in the wet room, before leaving. The silver-lining search: At least I didn’t walk into the door frame going in or out. No, Dizzy Dennis, Balance-Loss-Brian, or tumble visits. It could have a worse session!
I was now nothing like I was when I got up this morning! The ailments were gathering, giving me grief, and I decided to take an extra pain-killer, with the morning medications, and make a brew of Glengettie. Which, I did.
After taking the medications, I carried out the Health Checks. Starting with the BP on the Chinese manufactured Boot’s Sphygmomanometer. The SYS had come down from 184 to 170, and the Pulse from Sundays high of 91, yesterdays 66, now 75.
The Amazon bought, (for a very reasonable cost of £29), Chinese made Harpin Xian Di contactless thermometer reading was of 36.9°c. It was up a smidge, but it is still in the green on the reading, so nae bother there to fret about at all.
I tried to get a graphic or two done on CorelDraw before it was time for the ablutioning to be done.
As I went into the hallway en route to the wet-room, some idiot had left the mop and bucket in the hallway. Ahem! There followed a toe-stubbing right on the metal clasp of the wringer-outerer, at the bottom! It was a singularly painful one! Of course, I didn’t swear, or anything like that, or call myself ‘a stupid, thick ♫%£+ing idiot, either! Ahuh! I had a little talking to and admonishing myself, and swore to be more careful in future. Don’t know why I bothered really!
I got on with the shaving, pretty pleased with timing for once. ‘The Goon Show’ was about to start, on Radio Four-Extra, Grrreat!
As I was getting the shaving tackle off of the trolley, I… wait for it… stubbed my toe against the wheel! Silver-lining: it was a different toe, and not so keen as the first one! My language was all calm, not self-depreciative, I did not spit, and there was none-cursing. Ahem! I just plodded on.
The shaving had only a few dropsies, and just the one, I say, One, tiny nick. I did a decent job with the new Bic razors, too. , then I thought it best to abandon it, with things seeming to be on a run of bad luck.
Moved into the shower, after cleaning another of the multitude of black spots off of the floor. (I do a little patch each time I shower, Gawd I’m a good lad, I am at times!) I had a super-shower, a good scrub-up, used the brush and loofah! No banging into the grab bars, Dizzy Dennis’s, Loss of Balance Bernards!
The pins, hooves and tootsies looked in fine form. I dried off and got the medicationing done. Olive-oiled the ear holes. Next, I creamed the furuncle and carefully Germoloided Harold’s Haemorrhoids. They did sting bit! Then Phorpain gelled Arthur Itis’s and Cathy Cartilage’s knees. Put the eye drops in. Nasal hygiene sprayed the nostrils. Cleaned the spectacles, decoked the hearing aids and checked the batteries… It’s a job and a half every day! There is another dollop of advice for the whippersnappers. About what they might expect when they are growing old! Hahaha!
I got the PP’s on and exited the wet room. To go and get some clothes on. As I was struggling into the trouser, I realised I had not done my teeth cleaning!
I returned to the wet room, giving myself a third toe-stubbing on the mop bucket, that I had failed to move on the first stubbing! Somehow, this had a relaxing effect on me. The third stubbing of the day, surely that’ll be it, they say things happen in threes?
Got the teeth cleaned without too much bother. Then I got some waste bags made up and, and along with the masses of recycling bags and carton, I filled up the trolley and box.
This could be dodgy, I thought, getting the trolley to the chute and then down the lift to the caretakers’ bins, with any spillage, dropsies or other calamities!
I had a bit of bother getting the badly-balanced three-wheeler trolley out of the door into the lift’s lobby, and even more, bother getting it through into the lift lobby.
But being the confident, young, strong, capable stalwart that I am, I pressed on and got to the waste chute-room without the slightest bit of bother Ahem! Alright then, I got in trapped a finger in the iron chute lid, dropped three bags, clouted my head against the wall, when going down to pick one of the bags up. And coming back out, the left-hand knuckle got a bash against the door frame.
I got in a lift, and as I exited on the ground floor, the route to the main lobby door was blocked by signed and cones from the workmen who were doing the upgrading work. Nae bother for me, I used the fire exit out to the bin area. Robert, the caretaker, was not there, he can’t always be, he’s other jobs all over the flats. I dropped the box’s and bags where the bins usually are, but not today.
I hobbled along Chestnut Way in the drizzle, to the ILC’s (Independent Living Coordinators) Interrogation and holding cell office.
As I got into the Winwood Court foyer, a sharp dizzy-spell nearly had me over! It left me a little confused and worried afterwards. It only lasted about 30 seconds, but I had to wait a while before moving on. What next! Took this snap of inside Winwood Court.
No lights were seen in the office, so I retreated, back out in the light drizzle, and made my way back towards Woodthorpe Court. I heard a voice, and I turned around, it was ILC, Desk Top Dancer, Warden Deana calling me from the Holding Cells window. I returned to the office. She asked if I knocked on the door, but I could not remember the dizzy coming on. We had a distanced natter, Deana, Warden and Ice-skating champion Warden Julie, and I.
I departed, and the drizzle had stopped as I limped along.
Welsh William passed on his way to the bus stop. Not seen him for about three months now, but I don’t go out on the bus nowadays, of course. Jealous? Me? Yes!
I got back inside the building via the caretaker fire door.
Not a soul in sight, I reckon the working lads must have been on their tea-break.
I got through the passage and into the lift lobby.
The way is still blocked off, no access to the front door. The chaps seem to be making some headway in the upgrading. No rush, we’ve had it for four years now, I think… definitely three. Finding a protected Pipistrelle bat, then the holidays, then the Coronavirus, it must have been a nightmare for Nottingham City Homes. Well, some of the residents ain’t too happy about it. But it can’t be helped. Hehe!
As I got up to the floor, I met Robert, the caretaker, with few words.
Got in the flat, I put the trolley away, and finished washing the Manufactured in Pakistan, long-sleeved shirt, all done, wrung and hung to dry.
I got the photos sorted and used then to update this blog. It dawned on me then, I haven’t had a wee-wee for over two hours? Confusing!
I was getting in a pickle with the food deliveries, and I made an order for next Monday from Iceland. 06:00 > 08:00hrs.
Then had a look at the latest Coronavirus figures I could find, for Nottingham. Which showed a slight bit of optimism at least, a drop in numbers I thought. Then I came across this report, about where I live in Sherwood. This was not good! Yet still, people go out every day on the buses.
I’d love to go out shopping, but it wouldn’t be fair to others.
I pressed on with the updating of this diary. It is hard work with Nicodemus and SSS, both giving me jerks and making me make so many errors repeatedly.
I made a brew… still no more wee-wees?
The rain had stopped all together now, but the view when I took these photographs, from the thick-framed, hard to get at to clean, light and view-blocking kitchen window, was looking decidedly somewhat threatening.
I was getting so tired now, and I thought about what to have for a nosh. Making my mind up can sometimes be an impossibility, so quisquous. I’ll check the use-by dates, then have the shortest, methinks.
The cooked smokey bacon had the shortest date on it. So I got a carton of chopped tomatoes, with some added basil oregano and sea salt. Warmed up the fruit and juice, and added the bacon. I think I may have put a little too much basil in, but I still enjoyed it—a flavour-rating of 7½/10. I had the last of the bread with it, but I hope some more will be delivered in the morning from Iceland.
I found some scribbled notes on the pad I was using to recall thing to put on here in the morning. But at this moment in writing, I’m blown if I can decipher it. Maybe, perchance a Doctor might read this, and can help me out? Hehehe!
I got the TV on and found a Sherlock Holmes episode showing. Ah, that’ll do me! I thought.
Inchcock’s Third brave but stupid, Escape from the Lock-Down
We understand, that the Nottingham City Council Security, the Police, and the newly-formed Boy Scouts Woggle-Anti-Lock-Down-Escapers-Retrieval-Team are after him, again!
He arrived at Upper Parliament Street, where he spied and ogled some Nottinghamian ladies, on his way into the Poundland Store, had a Dizzy Dennis visit, and came out with more unwanted goods, such as Zoflora disinfectants, Carnation milk pots, Cooked beef misshapes, and 3×8 bags of his destroyers-to his diet, Frazzles!
He paid the lady, who helped him when he had his funny-turn and dropped his money on the floor, thanked her and made his way to the Bargain Shop on Milton Street. Observing a pair of fine legs-displaying young Nottinghamiam lady, crossing the road against the cross-walk lights. He forgave her we understand.
He patiently waited for some fine bottom-shaped, Nottinghamian Mothers to get there ankle-snappers locked securely in the pushchair, then entered the store. Hoping they would have some of the Pakistani made potato cakes, and lemon air-spray in stock. They didn’t. But the old fool felt so guilty at the thought of not buying anything, he bought a pack of four-mini oven trays, for £1.99, and left to walk through Trinity Square, up the incline, so as to take some pictures of Trinity Walk, but got yet another visit from Dizzy Dennis, and hobbled down to Upper Parliament Street.
The first of the Pavement Cyclist he saw on the short hobble, all-but ran into him. He claims to have called out, “You silly boy!” and waved at him.
Investigations are underway to find out what he actually shouted!
He limped down Queen Street to Nottingham’s Slab Square.
His near-miss at being run into again by another Nottingham Pavement Cyclist, (he says) drew a slightly more forceful response. The old grumpy claimed he said “Tsk! You rascal!”
He walked across to South Parade, where he took a shot of the side of the Council House. Not many folks there, so he turned back and took one of the Square.
He hobbled down Arcade Walk. Amused at how the Nottinghamians were totally ignoring the signs written on the paving stone, to keep to the left.
St Peter’s Square; and the silence was overbearing.
He says he felt like a disaster was about to take place, as he avoided another of the many Nottinghamian Pavement Cyclists.
He told our reporter, that he wanted after over a year and a half, to go into the M&S Foodhall, to get some treats from there ready-made meal section for himself. Shame that. He could not gain entry with his walker to any door but one, all the others have stairs or step that needed tackling to get in. So, after a long painful hobble around he found the doorway, and for his bother, got walked into by two rather large ladies coming out. He could not tell what they said to him, but the words were accompanied by some well-used, superior class sneers and curled lips.
Then he had to walk for what seemed miles, to get to the lift down to the Food Hall. Luckily, there was no one wanting to use the lift, which pleased him, but felt odd, the place used to be very busy all of the day? When he got down, it was a very sad sight! The Coronavirus has had a shocking impact, for M&S. Fridges were curtained off and not in use at all! The usually well-stocked shelves looked bare, by comparison now.
The fool paid £2 for a tiny bag of small potatoes, £1 for a mini tray of basic mushrooms, £2 for small-box of Frites, and £2.50 for four minuscule potato-rostis!
He got to the checkout and had another Dennis Dizzy visit, and Stuttering Stephanie hit him. He claims he was overcharged, but who knows, in the state he was in, owt could have happened.
The poor old senile nincompoop struggled to get up the lift and out of the one door he could use, and onto Lister Gate again.
Back wearily up Exchange Walk, with his famously-reliable EQ, telling him that hassle of some sort was on the way. Which didn’t take long to arrive!
He took a zoomed-in shot with his little Canon camera towards King Street, as a Pavement Cyclist zoomed by his, and he felt the draught the speeding idiot made!
Another Pavement Cyclist came into view.
Then another one, too!
This one came close to hitting the old codge, he came from the rear. Inchcok refused to tell me what actual words he shouted at this Pavement Cyclist.
This particular Pavement Cyclist gave our Nottinghamian pensioner a few looks!
The old scrote carried on his way up to the bus stop, and a final Pavement Cyclist belted by him. He claims he was tired, pee’d off and Dizzy Dennis was visiting him again at this stage. There might be something in what he says cause he can’t remember the bus ride back to Winwood Court!
He says he didn’t see a single policeman all day!
The can recall getting off of the bus though, he cracked his ulcered ankle on the trolley-walkers right-hand back wheel!
This was written and potomagraphed, under great stress. Just thought I’d mention it!
00:00hrs: Already up, and finished working on this updating of the Tuesday post, and sent it off.
Then went on the WordPress Reader section. Then I Pinterested a few snaps, next onto Facebook. Spent some time on Facebooking. But it eases and pleases me, and I enjoy it. Then, on to CorelDraw to get some graphics done.
Oh, Gawd! From nowhere Dizzy Dennis attacked, I really did think I was going to fall off of the swivel chair, and a headache developed at the same time, on the right side of the head! Enough, when I felt stable enough, I got sat down with a drink of orange juice, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley kicked off, which prevented me from nodding off for a while, but sure enough, as things calmed down further, I drifted off into the land of nod!
I stirred around 06:00hrs. Disinclined to wake or get up, and the Thought-Storms started. The need for a wee-wee arose, and the urgency increased. So at least that got me and my oleaginous, body out of the £300, c1968, second-hand, not-working, disconnected rickety recliner, and to the wet room.
A brand new style off wee-wee today, (It’s interesting having so many ailments!) I’ve Christened the mode as UDYP (Urgent-Deep-Yellow-and-Painful). It’s encouraging to be able to report that Little Inchies fungal lesion was not bleeding at all! All done, washed the hands and contact points, and as I was going out of the door, I had to go back in to deal with another rushing-gush wee-wee of the same variety!
I wiped and washed again, and off to the kitchen to do the medicationalisationing.
For some reason, unknown to me, as the bare feet got on the floor tiles, they were so cold to the touch?
The BP readings were different this morning. SYS well up, at 173, DIA 83, Pulse 77, and Temperature was 37.8°c. When I got out the tablet dispensers, I worked out that I had enough up until Saturday morning. This is when ILC, Ballerina, Comforter, Obersturmbannfuhreress, and Warden, Deana, said they should be delivered by the Carrington Chemist. I made a brew…
Gordon Bennett! The first sip was taken, and agony invaded the teeth! Cricky, it made me jump! Of course, the toothache was well set in, and kept on all through the day! Gragnangles!
Coronavirus is to blame for many of my new ailments.
The chemist cannot get the Saccades Sandra spray yet!
The paediatrist is closed until further notice!
The dentist is closed until further notice!
The Audio Clinic (Running out of hearing aid batteries) closed until further notice!
The Opticians closed until further notice!
I decided I’ll see if I can get out and about later, and try the audio clinic for some batteries. That is if I can manage the haul up that terribly steep and demanding Park Row hill. Might I change my mind later?
I took a photo of Chestnut Walk. I think there is a free car parking space available. A seldom known, extraordinary happening here at Windwood Heights?
I got on with updating. The rain and darkness repeatedly came and went, and finally, the updating got finished. The job was all done and dusted.
Off I trudged to the wet room.
The ablutions were soon got into with gusto. The shaving didn’t go exactly according to plan. But the teggies were painless, well not pain-free, cause of Toothache Thomas, but at least I didn’t have any bleeding from the gums.
The pins were looking a little battered, and still very much of the ghostly-anaemic design! The volumingargantuan, onerous hog-like, ponderosity, bulk, flabby stomach, may well have gained a couple of inches of girth overnight? But I’m sure I did not do any nocturnal nibbling?
After getting myself dressed (I can do it on my own now, you know, Hahaha!), I pottered about faffling, panicking, and double-checking everything before I dare set out to catch the bus to town to get the hearing-aids (And take some photographs).
I went for a wee-wee, and this time it was of the SS (Short-Sharp) mode of exudation and was the colour of a suppuration, it really was yellowy-green! Don’t be jealous, though, if you live long enough, it can still happen to you. Then all these exotic, appealing ailments, Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas and mysteries I write about, will become apparent and understandable for you. I didn’t mention logical on purpose. (Hahaha!)
A semi-serious, convoluted message came from my EQ! It was certain; The trip out was going to be frustrating and depressing. I should consider not going out! Mmm? The Emotional Quotient is rarely, if ever wrong! Foolishly I ignored the warning and got everything needed in the three-wheeler guide, made sure the bus-pass, door swipe, keys and crossword book were taken with me. Double checked the lights, faucets and electrics, all seemed okay, and off I went. With a big bag of recyclable material over my shoulder (not really, it was on top of the trolley, Haha!), and out I hobbled.
Down, bag in the bin, and ambled along Chestnut Drive, as the drizzle started to come, camera at the ready. I stopped for a few moments under the Chestnut tree while the rain was more substantial, but it soon weakened to just the odd spit falling.
As I got to the bus stop, I met Welsh William. I told him about Timothy Price’s marvellous clip of the owlet and told him if he gave me his email address, I’d forward the link. Then told him of what happens in the video. No interest was shown, which surprised me, I thought he’s loved to have seen it. He went off talking to someone else. Ah, well! Bless him, his free choice.
I limped over to where Peggy and Christine were nattering and bothered them. (Hehehe!) Peggy had on a seriously good face-mask, black, and it looked good quality built. Christine had hers on, and me too! They then told me that, from next Monday, anyone travelling on a bus must wear a mask. I decided to get another or two while out today.
They all got on the Bestwood bound bus with some other tenants, and I was all alone again. Then, slowly it dawned on me why! I’d got the bus times wrong once-again, Humph! I think that my EQ was right! With only going out once in months, I’d forgotten about the L9 service now being on a permanent Saturday roster, meaning a bus every two hours! I did feel a clot!
Back to the flat, and I took a few more photographs en route. One of Winchester Court main entrance. The flowers outside Winwood Court’s foyer, they were beautiful, especially so, with the petrichor, the aroma of earth and rain! Lovely! Then snapped the frontage of Winwood Court. A lot of open windows today?
Back to the apartment, and put these pictures into the computer. A letter had been received, telling us work will be taking place on the roof and will be noisy.
It’s going to be a long day, now I have to catch the 10:30hrs bus. (If I knew then, what I know now, I wouldn’t have bothered going out, the hearing aids batteries, and a mask so I can get on a bus, persuaded me to go though! Of course; as you will read later, I managed to get neither of wanted items! (Note to Self: In future, do not ignore the EQ!) Grumblecronkackers!
I set out once again to get the bus, at the right time this time, for the 10:30 L9. I was the only passenger to get on, but the bus was fullish, and with the side-saddle seats not in use, I had to sit on the outside of a standard chair, and hang onto the three-wheeler, to prevent it rolling away at each corner the Graham Hill fan, the driver took.
I was feeling worn out by the time we got into Nottingham. I was going to call into Wilko and the Poundland shop to see if the yhad any face-masks in. But, Wilko’s had a note on their window, telling us they had none left, but would do their best to get some for us!
And the socially-distanced queue for the Poundland shop filed around the corner for hundreds of yards! So, I had a walk to the Poundstretcher store on Milton Street. This where I got the face-mask from last week. Of course, they had none left in stock, either! Gragnackles!
However, I did get of my favourite McVities orange flavoured chocolate biscuits. A bottle of Woolite washing liquid and a bag of black bags.
As I came out of the shop, into the more torrential rain now, I met Gertrude, an old friend from years ago, and we had a natter in a doorway to keep dry. But her telling me she had just gone tot he Audio Centre to get herself some hearing aids, and they were closed, did not do me a lot of good! Silver-Lining Search Result: At least this saved me hobbling up the hill to find out!
I made my way through Trinity Square, avoiding the now-famously suicidal and dangerous to others, Deliveroo pavement cyclists.
It was a depressing hobble. What with so few people about, and those I met or spoke to were all down in the dumps, or in a snappy mood.
The change of rules for the bus passengers having to wear face-masks, causing another shortage of supplies.
The drizzling rain soaking us all through.
The much colder weather, and a general atmosphere of, well, what’s the words I’m looking for? Depression is too strong a word… oh, I don’t know though!
I walked down and through the Slab Square and onto Wheeler Gate, noticing the two, what looked like new Police Community Officers, in their brand new uniforms and stab-vest, watching as they ambled around, ignoring the pavement cyclists, the vehicles parked on double-yellow lines. A scuffle taking place for a moment on Long Row encouraged them to walk up King Street in the opposite direction.
I called in the Poundland shop there, and they were not busy at all. The manager even greeted me as I went in, asking me, cheerily; “To take your time, no rush, you might spend more then!” Hahaha! It worked, no face masks available there either, but I did spend a bit. Buying, 2 lemon-sherbet concentrated disinfectants, (No, I’m not joking) 2 Lemon Verbena & Cucumber air sprays, (No, I’m not jesting here, either, Hehe!) 1 can of beef in gravy for a quid. 1 pack of Indian seedless grapes, a packet of walnut-halves, and cashew nuts. A packet of BBQ chicken pieces, and a packet of pork slices with stuffing! And a pack of six mini-jelly pots! By gum, the lady who helped me put them through earned her can of G & T!
I paid-up and had a hobble in the rain to St John’s Church, and called in the Sainsbury’s small shop, to see if they had any face-masks available. Nope! Shame! But they did have some decent looking tomatoes of which I bought a pack and some seafood sticks.
I had a wander around the City Centre, before going to the bus stop, cause I had plenty of time. I spotted the imitation police officers, now on Upper Parliament Street.
I made my way to the top of Queen Street. The drizzle was easier now. A police car sped by, followed by an ambulance. And the Theatre Royal & Royal Concert Hall, surely one of the ugliest building ever built?
Then as I was going down to the bus stop, one of the infamous Deliveroo cyclists, floated down Queen Street at a fast rate of knots, in the wrong direction. Queen Street is one way, up the hill!
I considered pointing this illegal Road Traffic Act naughtiness out to the two heroic imitation policemen who were still nearby, with their hands in their new tunic pockets, keeping away from the earlier well avoided, Long Row scuffle.
But they had given me some rum looks when I photographed them earlier, so I thought better of it. Hahaha!
The L9 arrived with two drivers, and they kept me out in the rain for a few minutes while they chatted. No help offered in getting my heavily overloaded walker-guide onto the bus. I had to sit in the same deadly seat as going into town. They got off, of the bus.
I got one of the chicken pieces out of a bag to nibble. When the boss man got back on, he said: “There’s no eating allowed on the bus, youth!” And kindly offered me a scowl, worthy of a David Cameron sneer! And so I stopped eating!
The ride home was uncomfortable and I banged my ankles, elbows and knuckles, more than a few times as I fought to stop the trolley wandering off each time the bus screeched around a corner.
I was well in the dumps by the time we got back to Winwood Heights.
EQ was right! Colin Cramps were coming on already!
As I got into the flat’s foyer, Josie came behind me, and we had a little natter. When she heard of my problems in getting a face-mask, she fetched one for me to have. How kind of her! I got the fodder put away, and made a mug of Glengettie.
I updated this diary for a couple of hours, then, very late on now, I got the beef nosh sorted out. Beef and gravy, with extra caramelised gravy added, potatoes, garden peas, apple pies, seedless grapes, and lemon yoghourt. Flavour rating: 8/10.
So late, so tired, and soon slid into a much-needed sleep.
An Irritable day, with the odd pleasant highlights.
Fanmarveloustic! Chinwags, From a Socially acceptable distance, of course! And great weather!
Well, Jenny, bless her, delivered the lemon bleach and yoghourts she’s ordered for me good and early. Left them near the doorstep. Thus, I had time to rush about, (this may be a slightly excessive description) and get ready for my much longed for, my first trip out on the bus into town, for months! Excitement flooded the brain!
I made a complete hash of getting ready. It’d been so long since I went out, many things confused my poor old stale, addled brain:
I had to leave the socks off, cause they were too painful to wear!
Thus, I had agony with the feet and toes. But no matter, I was in my seventh heaven, about to escape into the outside world again!
Where were the unused for nine weeks flat keys? Found them quickly
Where was the bus-pass card, unused for nine weeks? This took yonks to find!
Where was the cash card? This took an aeon to find!
Time was getting on, so I put on the coat I last went out in. The heavy one!
Going to be interesting fun this, no hearing aid batteries!
I got the three-wheeled walker-guide, made sure some spare shopping bags were in it. And a few pressies in case I encounter any of the regular kind shop staff. And off I set!
Picture based record of the best day out for months. Well, it the first one!
Down in the elevator.
Checked on the electronic notice board, no rush after all. 12-minutes before the bus was due! A hobble down Chestnut Walk
Met several tenants, and had a chinwag or two, en route to the bus stop.
At the stop, people were mostly being sensible and keeping to the social distancing rules. I had a natter with Margaret, Christine and Steve. The bus arrived, and Christine seemed to be aware of my nervousness getting on the bus. On the short trip down the hill, she made me feel comfortable as we chinwagged.
I followed others who had got off the bus, down to the bus stop for a ride to town. Oh, dear, I was a tad confused getting on, but someone put me right. Each second side-saddle seat had been taped off and not in use. But there were not any available. Now there I was with my trolley, and in a pickle as to what to do. But a gentleman saw me in a ponder, and got up from a side-saddle, and moved to another seat, freeing it for me. Bless him!
We all got off at Victoria Centre, Christine had to remind I needed this stop. Haha! I chatted with her for a while, and she told me of the L9 bus being on a two hour Saturday timetable, and that I needed to get the bus back at 11:05hrs.
I felt so cared about, it was lovely.
I hobbled, (and the feet were giving my terrible gip) along Milton Street, and called into the old Poundstretcher shop. They, like the other shops, had set a new layout, and the in-door had been blocked off. I had a hunt around the grocery shelves, in search of some Pakistani potato cakes. But could not find any. But I still got to the checkout with; A can of Bonners BBQ sauce, Italian lemon cookies (Froletti Al Limone), Largeish bottle of Light Soy Sauce at £1.49. You’ll like this, a small packet of… ready for it; Asolo Dolce, Alla Marmellata di Arance! Which was Strudel with orange jam! Haha! And, All’Arancia Limone cookies. Finally, a face-mask, for a quid! I didn’t find out until I got home and could use the magnifying glass, it was made in Turkey.
I still found it hard to believe how few people were about. Milton Street, apparently the busiest in Nottingham City Centre, had six Nottinghamians, and so many closed stores!
As I crossed over Lower Parliament Street to get to the Poundland store, four cyclists came along the pavement, more or less at the same time. I struggled to get the camera out, by then there were only the two in the above picture left in view.
Into the shop, and they too had changed things around. I got a bit puddled trying to find the disinfectants, and I asked a lady assistant where they were; I followed her non-verbal finger that pointed towards the shop door, thanked her, and went to find them. The maze of aisles was challenging to manoeuvre around, with so many being blocked by the shelf fillers. Not that I blame them, they’ve got a job to do. With hopes high, I approached the fresh food fridge, almost tasting Pork Farms pie as got there. But, no, they didn’t have any. Which is a good thing really, I shouldn’t eat them anyway. But I did spot the tasty Frankfurters were in stock. I can’t work out why, but this brand, despite having less meat in than others are so filling and flavoursome. That’s tonight’s nosh sorted! Potatoes, peas, mushrooms, tomatoes and franks!
I did overspend, though!
I got to the checkout. As I was struggling anyway to put the basket on the counter, guess what? Without any warning or twitches, Peripheral Pete’s right-legs did a Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance routine, and to make things more embarrassing, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley had a bash at me! The basket tipped off the counter, and I made things worse by grabbing at it and spilling everything out onto the floor! Grobognangles! A lady arrived to help me, I moved out of her way, and she calmly gathered the goods and put them back in the basket and onto the counter for me. I mumbled my apologies, and the Tut-tutting from those behind me grew louder! To make those waiting angrier and even more likely to belt me one in the kisser, I’d bought a bottle of disinfectant, that was two for the same price as one, a quid. The kind lady pointed this out to me and called for someone to get another bottle for me. This was not making me very popular at all!
Yet the understanding of the serving lady was so much appreciated. The leg was still twitching a bit, and I feared it might ‘Dance-off’ again. So I paid the lady, thanked her, and hobbled to the door. I swear a heard a ginormous ‘Sigh’ from behind me!
Getting out back on the pavement, I took a shot of Parliament Street traffic; or lack of it. It was a sad sight. Made worse by so many obstreperous, leary, ignorant, dangerous, uncaring pavement cyclists. Notably, the scruffy-haired, tattooed neck and ear tab young delinquent who almost ran into me while I was taking the photo above, from behind! While I had the camera out, I turned to my left and took a shot of the end of Milton Street, then got in one of the closed-down shops’ doorways and sorted the weight distribution of the things in the trolley-basket and two carrier bags.
I’d bought a bottle of Aquafresh mouthwash, the two disinfectants for a pound, Frankfurters, Cheeslets, cashew nuts, a concentrated Lemon & mint, and Lemon disinfectants, and a (Not joking) Lemon & Sherbert freshener!
As I was passing the end of Milton Street, I was nearly assaulted by two pavement cyclists, from either direction! I caught a snap of the younger of the two illegal, contemptible, parasitic, moronic, spit-worthy urchins in this picture above.
Now here’s a rare sight, Milton Street with no moving traffic on it!
I got along to, and down King Street. The whole thing seemed so, almost hallucinatory. All I could see down the hill were two people! Weird!
As I got towards the bottom of the road on my way to the Slab Square, it got crowded, (Hahaha!) The spunk-bubbling, repugnant, detestable, unlikeable, arrogant pavement cyclist put on a display here. Unfortunately, I only caught this one parasite coming up the hill with my trusty Canon lens.
A little further down, and sod me, another sycophantic, tellurian organism of a pavement cyclist appeared. But I contained my hatred, fear and desire to knock the froward, mordant, noxiously pestiferously whippersnapper-bugger off of his bike… mainly cause he’d only belt the hell out if afterwards. Hahaha!
A handful of Nottinghamians in the Slab-Square, the quietness was eerie, and Nottingham’s Fothergill Watson designed building opposite, showing a sharp contrast the newer erections in the background, and was a touch saddening.
I turned to make my way to the bus stop, and a smidge of concern suddenly came over me. “What happens if the Coronvirus makes a comeback? And how come, it hasn’t seen off many pavement cyclists? Makes you think, dunnit?
Ah, another PC (Pavement Cyclist) made an appearance, as I turned up Queen Street towards the L9 bus stop.
The mind wandered as I limped slowly up the hill, Brian Clough’s statue on my right, The old Prudential Buildings, more pavement cyclists, not a sign of a policeman all day, how come I’ve gone for nearly two days without needing the porcelain throne?
The sheer magnificence of Fothergill Watson’s architectural designs. How come, I’ve gone so long without wanting a wee-wee? I was really into the mind-straying and changing routine, as I got to the top of the hill. But it came to a sudden end.
When I caught my foot on the wheel of the trolley as I secured it, in the middle of the pelican crossing refuge, to take this photo of Parliament Street, in all its bleakness. The burning, throbbing pains from the toes and souls of the feet were excruciating, and that’s no exaggeration. It ended my day out, in a despicably nauseating style. But it wasn’t quite finished yet.
I waited for and caught the L9 bus. Having to sit with the trolley in front of me was a bit awkward and difficult. The brakes on the three-wheeler would not apply? Which meant I had to sit leant forward, holding onto the trolley, to stop it rolling away for the whole journey. This stopped my blood flow, and Shuddering Shirley and Colin Cramps accompanied me. However, once Christine got on the bus, I concentrated on her amusing and witty tales. We had a laugh or a few en route home. She kindly didn’t run off, but walked at my steady pace and chatted as we walked the length of Chestnut Walk back to our beloved Woodthorpe Court. We waited for the lift, and Chrissie went up as we said our farewells to each other. It felt like I’d been out for hours and hours, and the fatigue was dawning. But, when I took a snap of the electronic notice board, as I did when I departed, showed me that I’d only been out from 09:20 to 11:41hrs.
I got the lift, and with there still being no call for a wee-wee or the Porcelain Throne, I put the purchasers away and made a super-duper mug of Thompsons Punjana.
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 downstairs.
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.
02:30hrs: I woke, the brain caught me up, and the sound of the annoying ‘Hum’ all around was a bit louder than of late – but, no time for that – Wee-wee-William was wanting to be freed!
Getting my unhealthy, aged, gargantuan oversized-stomached decrepit, body from the recliner and onto my feet, was no easy matter this morning. But apart from Arthur Itis’s knees, the overgrown toenails, the ankle ulcer, the leg ulcer, Harold’s Haemorrhoids and Anne Gyna, there was little bothering. Hehehe!
I limped over to the EOGPB (Emergency-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket), and painfully proceeded with passing a WSSUGG (Weak-Squirty-Spraying-Uncontrollable-Greeny-Grey) wee-wee! It still confuses me, how overnight, I cannot remember struggling out of the recliner at all, let alone hobbling over to the bucket or and using it, but it was half-filled? Ah, the mysterious wonders of Woodthorpe Court: The Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, hallucinations. Materialisations, poltergeist, lemures, wairuas, kehuas, manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan, ‘Let’s Piss-off Inchcock’ mission?
As I entered the kitchen, I thought I’d photograph the view of the new, unwanted, thick-framed, unliked, letting-rain-in, designed by a nasty, foul, cruel photographers-hating designer. That has been deliberately modelled so that no handicapped or elderly camera-user can take a photograph of Chestnut Walk below, without risking life and limb to climb the stepladder to see what he is shooting. Inevitably causing injury, upsetting Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna, Dizzy Dennis, or Back Pain Brenda. Toe-stubbing and falling off of the ladder is something that will no doubt please the architect or whatever Satanistic nerd, who planned the layout. But it doesn’t bother me! I fear a niggly-period just might be coming on, sorry.
I got the kettle on. The pot is near the air-vent on the wall that kept falling off, and the wind howling in when I first arrived at the flat. (See Photo right!) A fitter came to have a look at it (in 2016, I think) and booked me in for call two-months later for someone to tackle the problem. A young man arrived as planned to tell me it has been cancelled due to an emergency. ‘Fair enough’, I said, ‘can’t be helped’. I got a letter a week later rebooking the job, for a date three weeks later. A different young man arrived, had a look and soon set about with his foam filler, and plugged the hole. I thanked him, and off he shot, and I went shopping. But it doesn’t bother me!
On my return, I found it just like it is now (Only whiter). WArden Dean called them for me to explain, and I got a booking for a call four-weeks later. A man arrived, agreed it was terrible and needed doing, especially as the foam had covered the electric socket and gone rock-hard. ‘I’ll get it booked in for you’. ‘Thanks, mate’. ‘No problem!’ But it doesn’t bother me!
All this was before I got the ankle and leg ulcers. Then got diagnosed with the Peripheral Neuropathy, (dying nerve-ends). Had to use the walking stick and/or the walker-guide. But it doesn’t bother me!
Then they rushed me into the hospital when I collapsed in the recliner, nothing found wrong? Then weeks later, I had the stroke! Spent six weeks in the stroke ward, then another four in a care home. Got back here, the right ankle giving way, dropping stuff, walking into things, collapsing with dizzies and Anne Gyna was confirmed as a new ailment for me. Then diagnosed as diabetic. But it doesn’t bother me!
The plastic cover still drops off now and then. The socket flashes with static. But no rush, I’ll be a goner soon, then it will be easier for them to mend things when I’m not in the way. ready for the next tenant. But it doesn’t bother me!
And now, five years later, I’ve given up all hope of getting an appointment to get the kitchen made-safe and cleaned up, and I am in no state to do it myself. But it doesn’t bother me!
Touch of self-pity and frustration crept in there big time, sorry again!
Made the brew, did the medicalisationing. The sys had crept back up a bit. The pulse, too, but I think it’s within the range. But it doesn’t bother me!
Got Computer Cameron on, and made a needed graphic. Then started on updating the Friday blog. Thins went reasonable well, ailment-wise!
Got it completed and sent off to WordPress. Emailed the links. Pinterested a while. Had a long, but enjoyable bash on TFZer and Winwood Heights Facebooking’s. Visited the WordPress Reader section. Then, off to get the ablutions done.
Farcicalisation comes to mind. It was to be just a stand-up job, else I might miss the Iceland delivery (A farce in itself, tell you about further on) and it was too early to use the shower anyway. But as you will see, things didn’t go according to plan!
The first thing, I found, was that I needed the Porcelain Throne to be utilised! Boy, had Constipation Konrad made a comeback! Agano would not be too a severe word to describe what I went through, or rather, what went through me! Hahaha! I thought it was going to be one of those grinding marathon sessions again, I got the crossword book out. But things fooled me, all of a sudden, things moved of their own accord… I had visions of my body being found, split into two halves! Blimus, the most hurtful evacuations ever! But it doesn’t bother me!
Silver-Lining Search Result: At least if I could rush the cleaning up, I could still have time to sort the black backs to the chute before the Iceland van arrived. The feet didn’t look too bad, but the discomfort was!
The gums were bleeding, I got a bit too enthusiastic in my rushing the brushing. Tsk! The dropsies weren’t too bad, mind. The razors had a few flying off trips. The three shaving cuts were spread about. When I tried to cut the hairs behind the ear lobes, one nick on each side, and when I caught one, yes, caught one razor, as it shot out of my other hand, I sliced a tiny bit of of my finger end. Damned bad luck at the end, I dried, deodoranted and dressed, and Dizzy Dennis paid me a call, as I was going through the door, clouting my right shoulder on the frame.
Now, this has kicked Shuddering Shoulder Shirley into action! Which is currently making typing a bit of a task. But it doesn’t bother me! I’m fed-up listening to myself moaning. A closer look at the toes and feet in the front room showed that the ulcer had died down a lot, far less inflamed. The nails need attention, I must ask Deana if she can ring the clinic for me on Monday.
I got the waste bags made up, and took the three to the waste chute on the walker-guide trolley. Both lifts are now working as well. Although not in use.
Back to Cameron, and on WordPressing. Half-an-hour or so later, the Intercom rang. I limped to the panel, and it was not working! I got the feeling, that if I was to snuff-it soon, the other tenants might hold a long-distance party… I feel sure my abysmal luck is spreading throughout the fabric of the building! What next is going to break-down?
It was the Iceland driver, bless him, he kept trying to ring, but there was no response to the accept button, and the screen did not show anything or any voices heard. I gt a jacket on, to rush down (rush? hahaha! I am a fool!). But the door chimed out, someone had let the bloke in. He told me that a colleague of his could not get in earlier either! As I said, what next? The lad left the stuff near the door and shot off, he didn’t look too happy, and I don’t blame him.
The freezer and fridge were chockablock now! I got some of the Jersey Royal new potatoes in the slow-cooker, added some Hickory flavouring.
Then back on Cameron, starting this post off. After three hours or so, and the same amount of SFRTFC (Strong-Forceful-Reluctant-To-Finish-Cloudy) wee-wees, I got one of the Rocket Sours iced lollies from the freezer, and started to suck it vigorously! Lovely-jubbly! No taste to it mind, but it was cold and fizzy, highly acceptable! If this heat stays with us, I can’t see these lollies lasting long. Hehe!
The thermometer gave a reading of 34c indoors. I’m sure it must have been hotter outside. I took what was left of the sucker with me out into the balcony, which I thought was a good idea, to open a window and take some shots of the divine weather…
I went arse-over-tip on the first step over the raised door gliders! And what a kerfuffle!
I put my hands out in front of me to lessen the fast-arriving im[act with the wooden slated running boards… the iced lollipop disappeared the slats, never to be seen again! I instinctively tried to grab between the gaps, and I got a splinter in the same finger I’d sliced with the razor earlier… But it didn’t bother me!
Then, the Herculean task of getting back up again, which was handicapped by my trousers falling down! You couldn’t make it up! I was more bothered about anyone seeing me in this pickle than the pains I was in! Gluglegnatsworth!
Stil on my aching stinging knees, I crawled out of view back into the flat. What are the odds of someone seeing this littlecontretemps from another balcony? I cringed at the thought! But it doesn’t bother me!
I got myself sorted out. Getting back on my feet awkwardly, and banging the right knee and stubbing a toe! Cribblebogangonies! But it didn’t bother me!
It seemed that the braces had become unclipped during the tumble. I bravely tried to look nonchalant, and got the camera and wandered (Carefully!), back out to the balcony. I got the camera and scanned all the balcony’s in view, but didn’t see anyone in their p[od. (Fingers crossed) I took some shots of the folks below.
I must have caught the selector-wheel, cause one came out a different size and shape than the other? This dog above on the left is the one I names ‘Yappy’. His bark could be heard by me, all the way up here on the 12th-floor, and without my hearing aids in! I took a picture of the housing straight ahead. It looked almost like a painting? But the sunshine of strong in reality, but not in the resulting photo?
I took a photo of the puff clouds, and wallowed in the sunshine, leaning against the sharp edges on the balcony windows, and began to feel someone settled, almost at peace with the world. The warmth, the lack of breeze, and sounds of dogs and kids, but no vehicles… It felt so good to just relax…
Of course, the landline burst into sounds and flashes! No blooming rest for the wicked! I got back in, still moving wearily, and it was Sister Jane on the line. They (The Hospital) were keeping Pete in, ready for another biopsy by a specialist on Tuesday I think she said.
He’s got a television supplied and a laptop, they bring him newspapers when he wants one, has a choice of meals and is in a sideward with just two beds! But, it doesn’t bother me! In the stroke ward, it was packed solid with patients, some on trolleys, often I didn’t get a meal at all, the night staff always came and opened the window wide, which was right next to my bed, and they threw me out three weeks too early cause they needed the bed for an emergency. The ambulance staff threw me in a wheelchair, and left some of my stuff behind, but took some belonging to the chap in the next bed with me! I got put in a care home, full of patients who were not fully with it. Even there, one day, I didn’t get fed! Attempted stabbing, fights, I had to make a witness statement to the police… But it didn’t bother me! I’m not jealous, oh, no!
Jesting aside, (Not that the above incidents are not genuine!) I bet poor old Pete is bored rigid in hospital. His arm is deflating, so he even has no pains to distract. He’s always been an active bloke and is not too keen on medical institutions. I wonder if I dare nip out to see him? No, I’d better not. Knowing my luck the trousers would drop down in the sideward. Hahaha!
Nosh time. Bit of a heavy load, but I ate it all up. Not that it was very good, though. The garden peas were alright. Taste Rating: 5/10.
Got the pots pans and me washed up.
I got down earlier than ever, to watch some TV, with the aim of nodding off and getting caught up with some sleep.
Fat Chance! The ticker was racing away, the Thought Storms attacked, and after a few hours of failing to get to sleep, I couldn’t even manage any nod-off moments, plenty of rising for a wee-wee episode, mind. I decided to get back up and get Computer Cameron going to update this blog. And of course, escape the thought-storms.
Well, pickle my walnuts! My luck-status was confirmed!
So many things have bought injustices, jealousies and failures on my behalf today, I’m sick of my own whinging! All the lights were out on the Virgin box. I went through the usual procedures; pressed the reset button – Nope! Turned of the computer and rebooted – Nope! Turned off the power to everything, restarted computer and the Liberty-Global Virgin Media box, Nope! Things looked bleak!
I went for a drink of orange juice, the evening horizon looked worthy of photographicalisationing, so I did! For some reason, this shot reminded me of a Clint Eastwood Italian Western.
Still no Liberty-Global Virgin Media, but the box was actually now flashing two lights!
I went on to CorelDraw, and made up a Coronavirus Humour Graphic. This took about an hour to get done. Hello, three lights on Liberty-Global Virgin Media box now, things are looking up! I saved the graphic to the hard drive for later use and had another wee-wee (The orange tint was back).
Aha, four of the five Liberty-Global Virgin Media lights on now. So, I tried again to access the web… Great! I’m in! Slow going, but still!
I found the latest figures for Nottingham. These facts were being published regularly, but now they are hidden in sub-texts and different sections. Likely a Government ploy, as the figures are still rising overall, but now, in Nottingham anyway, more deaths in care homes, more than in Hospitals for the first time. Huh, I’m a cheer-chappie today, ain’t I?
Got on with the updating of this blog again. Then went back on CorelDraw to see if I could find inspiration for more graphics to use.
Harrumph! I give up trying to sleep cause I just can’t do it, and now I find myself falling asleep at the computer!
I went on Facebooking for a while.
I’d better get this finished off, checked and posted.