23:50hrs: I stirred into this cruel, hyperbolic-ridden, masquerade called life, with all-consuming guilt you wouldn’t believe! I don’t!
The thought-storming was simply unstoppable, with the torrents of fears, worries, concerns, seemingly fighting each other to get their messages of gloom, to me! I questioned my own sanity at times. Where have all these apprehensions come from, and why?
I tried to elutriate them from my mind, but they turned into a self-blame and shame mode. Even the need of a wee-wee was of minor concern, countering this guilt-ridden state of mind was more important to me at this time.
As the wee-weeing urge, became stronger, I somehow temporarily partly-absterged them from my mind, and struggled, with a foggy-headedness, to force my Arthur Itis-suffering legs and bouncy-flabby-stomached torso out of the c1968 recliner, caught my balance, and found that Metal-Micky (Four-pronged walking stick) was not in reach, at his usual place at the side of the Ottoman?
I was deceived for a few moments, but I had to hobble, stickless to the EOGPB (Essential-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket) To pass water, and I found Mickey in the corner near the bucket – the well-used, and half-full, the bucket!
Can anyone please tell me: How the heck, can I wake up in the night, unmangle my body from the recliner, get up and catch my balance, go to the bucket, have a wee-wee so many times, and back down again, and have no memory of doing so? Just thought I’d ask!
After using it, I managed to get the bucket to the wet room and cleaned up, disinfected, and back to the front room for future needs and demands. Then made my way to the kitchenette to get the kettle on, and had to hasten back to the wet-room!
The need for Porcelain Throne being the cause of this. And what a change this time!
Having got my body down on the seat and assumed the recommended optimum position by the gastroenterologist Doctor, (try saying that when you’ve had a few, Hehe!) Back straight, feet raised on a box… Nothing happened, the motion started for a few seconds, then it was out with the crossword book time. I happened to look at the clock when I turned after getting the puzzle book – it was five minutes before the motion started again. But by gum, it hurt, but was light lightning, which caused more pain from poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids! Massive, nae monstrously-massive, one-torpedo size again (perhaps the size of the submarine? Haha!), a sort of wet clunk was heard as I eventually freed it from the innards and back passage, followed by a sort of gurgling noise?
The relief was lovely, though! But the cistern couldn’t cope with the submarine, and needed two refillings of the tank from the tap, to encourage it to disappear from view! Then the cleaning up that was another long job. The bodily refreshing and ‘Care’ haemorrhoid ointment applying, was something that set a new standard in the level of agony, today! Cor, blimey, I was in a right uncomfortable state. Tsk!
A final wash and sanitising of the contact points and back to the kitchen.
Where yet another new standard was achieved. Oh, yes! But not in pain. Thanks to an ill-timed dual-attack by SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) and BB (Backpain-Brenda). On the right, you’ll see the results of my determined efforts to get some decent photographs were taken, of the view outside. The first one SSS made me catch the flash on switch early as I was about to open the window… But at least it had a reflection that shows the state of me poor old Cartilage Cathy ridden fingers. The second below must be one of my worst ever shots, Humph!
I took the body temperature as I waited for the kettle to boil. Well, well, another first for this Sunday! The temperature of 36.4°c was the same as yesterdays! All these years of having to record them for the surgery, this has never happened before.
The results for the SYS from the Boot’s sphygmomanometer of 166, would usually have been of concern to me, but compared to Saturday’s, it was betterer, well much lower anyway.
I finally got started with updating yesterdays blog. It cost me three hours, plus another one when I added a template for today’s to go on. But at least the ailments were being fairer to me at the moment. Apart from poor suffering, ripped open by an exiting, solid, giant-sized torpedo, Harold’s Haemorrhoids, they were very tender, any movement at all now, well how can put it? Argh!
I did another vain search for the Nikon camera lens, and the rain poured down, but it didn’t stop the louder than ever annoying ‘Hum”s droning noise! Grrr!
I thought it was a good idea to transfer the Kodak lens to the Nikon camera. Cunning eh?
Then I dropped the milk and made such a mess. I was on the point of crying. (I think a few tears may have leaked out) This did Duodenal Donald no good at all, seconds later Anne Gyna showed her disapproval!
Then as I was getting back up from cleaning the crap up, I hit my chin on the edge of the sink, and SSS gave me a shaking!
Depression Returns – Well, at least fed-upness!
Now I had enough – I openly spoke with our maker! (Honestly!) It went something like:
First, you let me get born with the tiniest, dinkiest manhood twinkle in the world, babies have more than I do now! Granted me double-pneumonia at three years of age. Made me as thick as pig-shit, so schooling was a nightmare of being bullied.
And why did you make me play in the school team when the flu bug (1959 I think), had lost them many footballing lads off school – I was the shortest pupil at that school, and they put me in goal! Come on!(We lost against Corpus Christie, 13-0)! I remember it well; they beat me up on the bus going back!
I worked hard and long hours, and you had me made redundant three times! You stopped me getting a tobacco and drinks licence for the shop, then allowed me to get robbed by my accountant, go bankrupt, end up doing security work, in which I was not just the only member of staff to get shot on duty – but, TWICE!
Then you made me go bald, sent me a duodenal ulcer, angina, deafness, saccades, lost half of my thumb, stopped the reflux valve from working, a hernia (fair enough they did find cancer while mending that -you didn’t see that one coming did yer!)
Then a dodgy ticker, new mechanical Aorta valve, three break-ins at the house and I had two muggings in Carrington, then the stroke (Thanks for that!)
Peripheral Neuropathy diagnosed! Then diabetes, return of lung struggles, then the bladder cancer. And the ankle and foot ulcers, they are just great fun. I’ve got a new one coming this morning. Thank you. I could go on mate, but I haven’t got the time. Humph!
Oh, go on then! Cheers for putting in such misery, frustration and risk of death, by making me use the Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, just up from the Lidl store, but genuine thanks for having Jenny ♥ nearby.
Gawd I hope there isn’t a God now, or I’ll be for it!
Then, I prepped some potatoes and got them in the slow-cooker, to have with the Chilli-Con-Carne. I went to open the can with a view of adding some passata to marinate in the mixture.
Arrrrgh! The flaming new electric can opener is not working now! It gave out a whine, shuddered and died.
What next!
I woke up full of guilt and not knowing why!
Lost the camera lens cover!
Took two of the worst ever photographs in my life!
Suffered agony on the Porcelain Throne!
Fought to get the WC to work!
Smashed the milk bottle!
Nearly knocked me out hitting the draining board!
The Amazon can opener has packed up!
Duodenal Donald and Anne Gyna are giving me a pasting!
And I think I’m losing, what bit of a molecule of grip I have left on life, now!
If there a word stronger than depression that I can use?
I had an uncertain moment, and for some reason had to go and check that I had not left the tap running in the wet room, which proved a painful experience. I hit my right knee against the shower chair, and thus, Neuropathy Pete, launched into one of his involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances, and over I went. Getting back up to my feet (eventually), to find I’d clouted the left wrist against the chair on the way down. Hey-Ho!
I carried on blogging away; the wee-wees are not so regular today. Mind you, with the amount I must have past last night; it’s not surprising.
I’ve still got to get some graphics made up, but Josie’s dinner has to be prepped and made first. Back in a bit, I hope. I did some comment reading in between.
Then back to the cheffing duties. All went reasonably well, apart from cutting a tiny nick into my finger, adding the butter to her potatoes. Serves me right for using a knife to cut it with!
The cheesy potatoes I tried adding a little milk to them (Hence the lost bottle!), and plenty of butter, sea salt and Leicester Cheese. Sliced the last tomato, an egg, a fishcake with smoked haddock inside, a fillet of smoked salmon, a few Surami sticks, garden peas, and some pickled beetroot slices. A can of spiced rum and cola, and a couple of the Skinny strawberry chocolate nougat bars. I managed to deliver it once again, dead on midday. Josie said she liked the strawberry skinny’s and asked what was in the can and breadcrumbs. So I told her. Hehehe!
I was beginning to wane a little now and realised that getting any graphics made up was a no go. With Donald and Anne Gyna still bashing away at me, I was suddenly not up to much.
But I was determined to have a search for the Nikon camera lens again, which I tried to do methodically. On what must have been the third scouring of the kitchen, I realised I’d got the potatoes on the crockpot nearly done now. So, thought I’d have a tin of the ring-pull chilli and the potatoes for nosh later.
This was when to my own disbelief, I spotted the Nokia lens cap on top of the large slow cooker! Possible laughing at me! Hehe!
I decided that I’d swap them back, Kodak and Nikon with their own caps. This cheered me up a tad… but no, does anything ever go right with me?
The Kodak cap which was on the Nikon was now missing! Am I going mad, here! It cost me another hour of delving into any possible place that it could have fallen, checked all the jammie bottom pockets, jumper and coat ones too. Drawers, shelving as well! I even searched between the two chairs in case it had dropped down. This bending and getting back up again only made Anne Gyna and Duodenal Donald angrier with me.
While I was giving up, I went to return the torch to the drawer… and thought I’d have a looking with it, between the computer desk (Hopewells G-Plan design, 1962, bought from the charity shop when I moved into the flat), and blow me down with a feather duster – there was the Kodak lens cap! I returned it to the Kodak camera.
There was no celebration about this, and I found myself back at this mornings state of mind, and the thought storms began again. To try and shake them off, I abandoned the computing and got some nosh sorted out after all. Which worked! Yee-Haa!
I found a can of CCC (Chilli-Con-Carne) that had a ring-pull opener, and some gravy and the boiled potatoes from the crock-pot. The last few Foul Beans from the fridge were put in the mix, and all armed upon the hob. Some milk roll bread, and a lemon yoghourt as well.
Absolutely divine! Flavour-Rating 8/10! As you can see here, I didn’t leave a lot! Mmm!
The washing up of all the pots and cutlery etc. from both Josie and my meals took what felt like an eternity!
I stripped off, flopped down in the recliner under the quilt, and settled to awaited the Nightmare Kitchen programme to start. I blissfully fell asleep, woke up in need of a wee-wee, forced my lumberous body from the recliner, had a wee-wee of the WTPP (Weak-Trickling-Pale-Painfree) mode… and realised I had not taken the evening medications yet. So I took ’em!
About three minutes into the programme, Sweet Morpheus returned. Nice!
0025hrs: Boy, did I wake up in a huff? I was grumpy, reluctant to move, to the point of clinomania setting in.
The brain wasn’t very lucid but retained a depressional outlook. And then a rare morning Thought-Storm started! As fast as the next worry, fear or semi-panic came along, I’d forgotten the previous one… Oh, dear!
I must have been dreaming something of a disturbing nature. There are soupçons of memory of the dream, but patchy and made no sense. (Mind you, I should be used to that by now, ‘things making no sense’, especially since the stroke.
Hey-Ho! The need for a wee-wee saved me. That helped concentrate the mind a little. By the time I had struggled out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, tatterdemalion, heavy, yet tottery, rickety recliner, and caught my balance, the Porcelain Throne was required as well.
As I hobbled to the wet room, the same thing happened as yesterday morning, and a swift, sharp Dizzy Dennis attack, had me grabbing for support as the balance went again. But this time, I stayed on my feet and didn’t hit the wristlet alarm against the door and set it off. Phew!
I got on the Throne, and the releasing of the wee-wee blasted out of the bladders own accord. As it hosed away, the bowels made a tiny movement, and that was that; so I needed to apply some pressure to get it started, it was taking ages to encourage things along, and I had a go at the crossword book while waiting in agony. Once the action began, and it took a while to start, I was astounded at erm; how long things felt, painful all the way through, but such a relief!
I rose to inspect and note the state of the passed item, to record it in the Poo-chart for the clinic. Flipping-Thunderation! It was massive, bloody and a very light brown colour? I was pretty sure that the blood was from poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids, made a note of condition, and set about with the stick, breaking up the gigantic torpedo to allow it a chance of being flushed away!
The first flush cleared it all away, amazing! Anticepticated the rear end, and applied the ‘Care’ haemorrhoid ointment (that stung a bit, Haha!) Well, that stirred the mind and cleared the fogginess a bit!
Of to the kitchenette with the camera, to take a shot of the morning view, and get the Health Checks done and recorded. Then made a brew of Glengettie.
But could I find the camera lens? No! I spent ages searching and ferreting around looking for it. All with no success! For some reason, this got me going with the self-hating pattern. So annoyed at myself!
The blood-pressure SYS, had now gone up to 189?
I assume due to the hassle and upset already suffered this morning, the angst? One of the highest ever readings this was, I think I have had a score of 189 twice before?
The temperature with the Made in China thermometer, was a much betterer level though, at 36.4°c.
I took two of the Dioctyl®, to hopefully soften things in the Porcelain Throne arena. Hahaha!
Then I came across last night’s medications, still, in the lid I use, untaken, not used, missed off… What an Eizel I am!
I kept stopping what I was doing to have more repeated hunts for the missing escaped lens cap. No success, of course!
Then I did a right IDIOT (Inchcock-Daft-Insane-Outlandish-Thing), perhaps something that is unique to those nearing the end of sanity; I got the template (this one) made up, and forgot all about not having finished yesterdays diary yet! And carried on writing. It took me several hours for this to dawn on me! I stopped working on this and went to update the Friday blog. At the same time, I was Feeling an even bigger nincompoop than ever!
To make things worse than ever, as I got the blog opened, I got the dizzies. I was out of sync and hazy for a couple of minutes or so.
I went slowly and carefully onto the balcony for some fresh air and returned feeling physically a lot better (Note, I didn’t mention mentally?) The entire bottom half of the blog I’d done, was completely wiped off? I couldn’t work out what I’d done, or what’d gone wrong!
Frustratingly, I had to do it all again! Are you sure today isn’t the thirteenth? Tsk! While trying to sort out what I’d missed, my inorthography and concentration had gone to pot as well. The worst it has ever been, caused mostly by my memory problems, and Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, I imagine.
Eventually, I got it finished and posted. Pinterested some snaps. I emailed the link. Did some Commenting on WordPress, then I did the Facebook. As I was planning to go on the WordPress reader;
Peed-off altogether now! So I tended to the ablutions. Hoping the Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet will be back on afterwards.
Ablution Session!
I got in the wet-room and the Porcelain Throne No.2, was required. Well, almost a delight this time! No crossword puzzling needed, the evacuation ground its way out a little quicker this time – no bleeding at all, but a little messier. It was requiring two refills of the tanks and three flushes to clear things away. Well pleased with this!
The teeth-cleaning went well also. No bleeding, and not too painful at all!
The shaving was cut-less! Yep! Not a single nick!!! (I can claim no victory in this, I but need to thank SSS and Nicodemus for withholding any attacks whilst the preening took place!
The showering was a weak area for good luck (Tsk!) Two Dizzy Dennis visits ended up with two bangs on the right arm, one on the grab bar, and the other on the power box, which caused a little skin scraping.
A tiny few second Involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Pete Schuhplattler dance, caused me to clout the right ankle ulcer against the metal chair leg, which enflamed it a smidge, but nae-bother really, it looked worse than it was.
The new growth that started to come up on the right ankle a couple of days ago had now disappeared?
However, I seem to have another growth coming through now, on top of the right foot, a greeny-grey one? Ah-well!
The drying off and medicationalisationing went so well, and with such a lack of pains, I kept wondering if I’d done them or not! Great!
I doubt if I’ll have such a good session again, if at all! A Smug-Mode could not be resisted!
Not that a man such as myself, with my heroic, brave, devil-may-care approach, and good looks, my statuesque, muscular, young body, was bothered, of course. Cough, cough!
I returned to the computer to find the internet working again. I got on with updating this blog also, the rain started to fall again, and it seemed to get so sold suddenly.
It was drizzling again.
I investigated the emails for messages and any notifications about the Coronavirus figure locally. The past few days, they don’t seem to be informing us as much. I opened the ‘YourArea’ email and had a nosey. It took me a lot of searching, but I did find this one for the UK, on the BBC News Site.
Gone even darker now, but the rain is lighter, not that it matters to Prisoner 72, Woodthorpe Criminal Court. Hehehe!
Made a brew and took another Dioctyl® capsule.
I don’t want to go back to the rock-hard torpedos! I found this comparison chart.
Ah, that’s the one I was looking for. They seem to put a seven-day running total on nowadays. There must be a benefit of this, but I wouldn’t guess at it.
I sorted out some small bags of waste and got them in the box on the trolley, then added the recycling, and glass jars.
Got them stacked up, and took them to the waste chute, dropped the little bags down, and then caught the lift down to the ground floor, out through the lobby, got the glass in the green bin, recycling bag in the big bin, and returned into Woodthorpe Court through the lobby, into the elevator and back up to the 12th-floor, and into the flatlet.
And all without seeing a soul to chinwag or talk to! But on the bright side, a rarity indeed – not a single LOB (Loss-off-Balance) or Dizzy Dennis visit going out or coming back! I distinctly recall thinking of this as I struggled into the flat with the 3-wheeled walker guide.
Then had a bout of LOB & DD immediately afterwards! Humph!
Back to graphicationalisationing on CorelDraw, and Dusty Springfield emanated from the doorbells.
It was the J Sainsbury delivery lady with the food order for me. The same girl as last time and I noted she’s come early, not like last week when she was nearly 2-hours late (Not through ant fault of own).
She filled the box and bag with the goods, a lot of stuff today it seemed.
I somehow got the big box through to the kitchen with the bags, then got the stuff stored away.
I got the bacon ready, potato farls in the oven, warmed up some canned peas, cut up a tomato or two, sliced a Jenny-provided pickled egg, I spread some milk roll bread with Lurpak, the meal was getting to look tasty before it was prepared… a.
There was a let-down though, the new electric can-opener would not work!
But I soon got to work gobbling up the meal, and made a decent job of it, too! But the Irish potato farls I’d undercooked a smidge, but still, the meal got a Taste Rating of 7/10. Maybe back to Chilli tomorrow, it depends on what Josie has, mind.
Medications were taken, then I got down in the recliner. TV on… Zzzz!
23:45hrs: I stirred back into a frustrated, imitation, a life of sorts. Yet realised that things could always be worse! Things can be so confusing, especially when one had limited education, no confidence and gets rather confused, at the drop of a hat!
Well, that’s what I thought anyway. This is not to say I was depressed, morose or down in the dumps. In fact, I was feeling in fine fettle, and would probably have gone into a deep-thinking, answer searching mode, had not the need for the morning wee-wees not arrived so urgently.
I removed my overweight, pot-bellied, decrepit, physically and mentally-impaired, multi-ailment-ridden body from the c1968, £300, second-hand recliner, grabbed Metal-Mickey and off to the wet-room I wobbled.
But it wasn’t a well-balanced hobble, and I went off-course a smidge as Dizzy Dennis joined me – at first, I was rather pleased with myself for keeping upright – unfortunately, as I put my arm out to the door to assist staying on my feet – I hit the Alarm-Wristlet on the handle. And set off the panic alarm! The chap from the Nottingham City Homes Control Room came through loud and clear, telling me activation had got through to him and asked if I was alright. I told what had happened, and apologised. He was alright about it.
But the catastrophe had delayed my visitation, and having to hold onto the leak, caused the PMD (Pre-Micturition-Dribbling) to flow before I could get to the bowl! Oh, dearie me!
I passed the wee, a surprisingly forceful one, due I imagine to my starting taking the Furosemide again. So, as demanded, I had a good clean-up, and put some new PP’s on. Getting a bit low on stocks now! The urine classification had put me in the Dehydrated group this time. Just in the Drink More category. So I did! I took the medications with a lot of spring water and took another Furesomide, and two Dioctyl® capsules. Bearing in mind that yesterday, Constipation Konrad was the easy winner over Trotsky Terence in the Porcelain Throne session!
Started to update the Thursday blog. It was all done and posted… but it took me five hours! Danged Colin Cramps having a go at me now!
Made a cuppa, and got the Health Checks done.
The temperature was fine on the new touchless gismo, thermometer. Then I did the sphygmomanometerisationing. Thew SYS was don’t a little again. Which was good.
The tea had gone cold, so I piddled off to make another brew, this time Thompsons Punjana tea.
I took a snap of the morning view.
Then I returned to Computer Katey, to finish off the Facebooking, Emailing, etc., and then have a look at the new WordPress Reader pages.
I’d just made a third mug pf the, Glengettie, got it to the computer, and the belated today, summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived.
So, off to the wet-room, I trudged.
I sensed that things were not going to be over very quickly, and would be rock-hard and massive again, so got the crossword book out. ( I got a few answers in too! Smugeth-Mode-Adopted!)
When the actions started, it was grindingly slow and painful, nae… agony! Also, it took that long it pass, I should have kept on with the crosswording! Tsk!
I forgot all about the tea again and decided to get the ablutions tended to.
One of the most boring sessions for months! In total only three dropsies, no toe-stubbing, no bleeding, no walking into anything! And despite Dizzy Dennis paying me a couple of visits in the shower, no injuries or falls. Ah, no I’m wrong, I did trap my left hand as I was retrieving the razor, but that’s all! I forgot about that.
Drying off, and the landline burst forth and flashed. It was Sister Jane, who I made cringed at the thought, when I told her I was stood there naked, just out of the shower. Hehehe! She said she’d ring back.
I made yet another mug of Glengettie and had some late breakfast. A pot noodle, a bag of Frazzles and a mini-cake.
Oh, yes, I live well yer know!
I had gone a little dark, and the rain was coming down without a care in the world. I took a photo through the glass in the unwanted, light & view-blocking windows, that had been designed to make things as hard as possible for a handicapped old git like me.
I then got the blue zip-up jumper washed, all done, wrung and hung above the sink.
I’d just got the mug of Glengettie to my lips, I think this must be about the sixth failed attempt to get a drink, Hahaha!Jane calling: We had a long chinwag and gossip. Some bad news followed the good news that Janet and Pete are not too bad at the moment, that cheered me up – the surprise news was Christine and Bill had both got the Coronavirus! I was missing a lot of what was said after that, as the line started to crackle and fade in and out.
Fancy buying a £2000+ mobile and getting bad reception! Hahaha! The need for a wee-wee, Fancy that? me? Hehehe? I had to flee, and am really super-glad I did, very nearly had a bad leakage problem… well alright, I did have one!
I got the woolly hat I’d washed the other day and threw the one I had on since, away. Too tight!
But this one was too loose! There’s no winning for me, is there! Wash one and it shrinks, wash another and it stretches? Note the pale, cadaver-like colour of the skin again? I started to go downhill after this, not poorly-like, just confused, no concentration and so weary. Just like the last two day? There’s a reason for this – buggered if I know worrit is!
Determined to get a mug of tea eventually, I made yet another one.
Took this zoomed-in picture of Ramsdale Crescent, with Winchester Street ar the far end. I took it so that Ohio Billumski, head honcho, and Financier of the WWRCMF (World-Wild-Red-Car-Monitoring-Faculties) at NASA, can use the numbers of red cars on the street pro-rata-wise, to analyse what went wrong with the US Elections. He’s clever you know!)
I set about uploading the taken-later photographs and came across this one. Another mystery! Where’s it of? When? What? Baffledom rules!
Tea to m… These few words in italic on the left, are all that is left of the hundreds of them I had written here yesterday! I’ll explain betterer: In the morning, I came to update this blog from here – I had a Dennis Dizzy attach, a bad one. Only minutes later, I found that all the proceeding (then) writing had disappeared from the screen? The saved version was the same? What I had done, I’ve no idea, but I worked out that I did it in minutes? (I think). This not only got me so mad with me. And made the updating take at least six times as long as it should have. I had the notes on the pad, but my writing (I use the term loosely) was mostly indecipherable. Although the memory of the meal was still fresh in my mind for some reason, and of course, the photographs in the camera helped trigger some more. So it’ll be a bit patchy, some details at times few, from here on, sorry.
No idea what I’ve missed of, of course.
I recall opening the Chinese Foul-Megaames (white beans), they were large, meally, and made a change. Looked like giant black-spotted beans. I tried one as I added them to the Chilli-Con-Carne, and liked it! Of course, now I’ve been told not to go shopping, how I can get any more beats me. Not that it should matter, I’ve got tins galore of beans in stock now, just not this variety.
Ah, well!
This photo found, obviously taken from the kitchen’s light & view-blocking windows. I can see what made me take it, it’s a quite beautiful sunset!
The Chinese Foul beans bad made the Chilli-Con-Carne much milder – I should have put some extra mild chilli seasoning into the mix, Tsk! Only two small rolls baked, and Honey flavoured yoghourt. Naughty, but nice! I think I enjoyed it, found what I think is 7/10 scribbled on the notepad.
Did some other stuff, but…
Settled to watch a Kitchen Knightmare program. I stayed awake for the first two parts of it, nodded off and it was a good four-hours of sweet Morpheus later when I woke up. All confused-like.
01:00hrs: What an awakening that was! I’d just woke, and found myself hanging half-in, half-out of the c1968, rickety recliner, and considering various questions as I posed them to myself? Whether to bother with life or not, if I do, what’s waiting for me? Depression? Accifaupas? Whoopsiedangleplops? I didn’t get any further, cause… There was such a loud sort of clunk come thud, it seemed like an eagle, pterodactyl, or something had flown into the flat wall?
I forced my enormously overweight body from the seat, caught my balance, grabbed metal mickey, and made my way into the balcony to have a look around to identify whatever had clouted the wall. I had to divert to make use of the EOGPB (Essential-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket) Surprisingly, of the SFS (Steady-Flowing-Stream) variety.
I got into the balcony, but despite all of my honed Sherlock Holmesian skills, could see nothing that might have caused the thud? This will have to remain another mystery of Woodthorpe Court: The Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, Hallucinations. Materialisations, Poltergeist, Lemures, Spectres, Spirits, Spooks, Eidolons, Wairuas, Kehuas, Manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum, to torment and frighten the bejesus out of me! Hehehe!
I got the health checks sorted out. The temperature using the new thermometer, but on Body setting, as opposed to Surface, was much nearer the mark.
The Boot’s BP sphygmomanometer still gave a high SYS reading of 168, but it was down from yesterday’s. I think I have Jenny to thank for that, in sorting and actioning a taxi to fetch the Dioctyl® capsules for me from the chemist. Also sorting out the Furesomide tablets, that I discovered are taken for multiple ailments. The water release I knew of. But didn’t think they were for High Blood Pressure too! Deep vein thrombosis. pulmonary oedema, or fluid buildup inside your lungs. (I’ve got em all – I am greedy!) You live and learn! ♥ I’m back on them again now. I took a colourful shot of the morning view.
I got the medications taken, and worked out a plan of how I can avoid missing off taking the Furosemide, and Warfarin. I’m going to keep them along with the Enoxaparin hypodermics and Macrogol. On a tray on the clothes airer! Then when I get up, I’ll see them when I go for the morning wee-wee. At least I hope I will! Cunning, eh?
I made a brew and then had a reread of the NHS Government’s six-page of A4 instructions, again. I’m afraid the concentration was not back to normal yet, after yesterdays nauseating, vexing mental-struggles over the problems getting the medications. (Thankfully, Jenny got it sorted for me)
After many hours of faffing about, going from one thing to another on the computer, and forgetting where I was, and even why I was doing something, I got the template finished for today’s blog, and the photos uploaded.
Then I got started with finishing the Part-one Wednesday post. Next started the second-part of the Wednesday blog. That took me many hours, and much anguish, as well. Still, gorrit down eventually.
The time had flown, and with the Iceland delivery due to arrive twixt 08:00 > 09:00hrs, I had to get the ablutions done in time. So, off to the wet room and a stand-up ablutioning session. Too early to use the shower yet.
Ablutioning Report: Crap! Dropsies! A tumble. Throne needed, not as bad as yesterday, but not much in it. It was bleeding far less. I’m not feeling so good at the moment.
The Iceland delivery man arrived. He threw the bags part of the way into the hallway for me.
I got them moved into the kitchen, a couple of bags at a time. I was beginning to struggle a bit again, Dizzy Dennis and a few Balance-Loss-Barry’s. Not good, but I half expected it after yesterdays rum do.
I had to nip to the wet room, and I did an excellent job of hitting my right knee on the edge of the door going in. Which made a nice change for me, cause it’s usually leaving the wet room when I clout myself. Haha!
It seemed for all those bags; this was only a small order? Hey-Ho!
I got the things put away. Then took some thank you treats, down to Jenny, Doris and Frank, for her caring help yesterday. ♥ I’ll get told-off later I’ve no doubt. Hahaha!
I returned to the apartment and made up a Morrison order for next week, while I can get a slot. All done and confirmed for Tuesday twixt 13:00 > 14:00 hrs. I added it to the Gooogle calendar.
Carried on with updating this blog, but Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were bothersome. So much so, that I gave up, and sorted some meal prepping.
A can of Morrison Savers Chilli-con-Carne, and added some gravy and a tin of chopped tomatoes to it, then some of the Squid sauce/vinegar, and a drop of light soy sauce. Gave it an eager stirring.
The landline burst forth, it was Jenny, on a mission to tell me off for giving her the treats. At least they were used, Doris mostly, she loves her plonk, as is very welcome to enjoy it. Jen and I had a natter, but I was missing some bits of it afterwards. I fear that the fuzziness is returning.
My best job I think would be to get the nosh, and settle to eat, then some rest and hopefully kip. I’d set the timer to remind me to put the part-baked rolls in the fridge… fridge? I mean oven and got it warming up.
I reckon there’s summat else wrong, unknown to me. I’m buggered again, all in? Ah, well, I just hoped that whatever clears soon. It might just be old age, though… I’m not too keen on that stopping. Har-har-har!
Hello, I heard a clunk followed by a knock (on the door if I’m not mistaken). It was another letter, come from Nottingham City Homes. It explained the difficulties they were having, and measures taken during this new lockdown. More bumpf to get confused with, but it was a to the point message and appreciated from this old geezer.
Guilt twinged a little when I noticed the small rubbish bags I’d made up yesterday, and left in the kitchen.
I got the part-baked rolls in the oven, set the timer, stirred the Chilli-Con-Carne, and hastened to pile the waste bags into the box, got it on the three-wheeled trolley guide walker.
I got the trolley out through the door (collecting another bruise on the right arm in doing so), and off to the waste-chute, deposited them down the chute, and returned to the flat, in record time. Collecting a bruise on the right elbow as I struggled back into the apartment. Still, it helped focus the mind a bit. Hehehe!
I’d not put the oven on high enough heat. So turned off the timer, and took this photo from the unwanted, light & view-blocking kitchen window and then got the Chill into the serving bowl, and the saucepan rinsed and into the sink to soak.
Added the cobs from the oven. The burn I got on the right knuckle, was of no concern, for once Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failed at just the right time, I felt no pain at all!
I’d love to write a story about Peripheral Neuropathy and its sometimes amazing quirks.
Settled down to eat the meal, noticing that my adding the canned chopped tomatoes instead of beans, gave it a different flavour, but just as palatable. It was nice. I gave this one a Taste-Rating of 7.5/10. I have to say, the Morrisons tinned new potatoes, were a great disappointment. I’ll go back to the cheaper variety on my next order, or use fresh ones.
I took the evening medications, applied the Phorpain gel, and had a wee-wee, checking the chart.
Pleased to see that I’m on level 4.
Lighter than of late,
Such is my fate,
It’s looking good, mate!
But, wait…
I waffle again, I am in a state!
I’ll have a Marmite sarnie, to compensate,
For my loss of sanity… Oh, I’ve just dropped my plate!
I had a snack of some Morrison’s crushed Frazzles and their reshaped and squashed mini raspberry and vanilla rolls, with an absolutely foul, crap, bitter, irony-tasting decaffeinated tea. Eurgh! I didn’t get beyond taking two small tentative slurps of the poison!
I got on with the updating of this blog, in between done, in between diversions to make graphics in between.
A couple of hours later, nipping into the kitchen, to prep and cook the dinner. I took a couple of shots of the view outside.
Billumski, the Obergruppenführer the ORCMC (Ohio Red Car Monitoring Services), will note that three of them were on the site today, at 15:00hrs.
I was getting a bit wearier and decided to pack-up (losing concentration now). And get the meal tended to.
While ding this, I got a definite warning from my EQ. ‘Be prepared’ – ‘Incoming Hassle! I’m afraid he is rarely wrong! But I still ignored his caution.
Doing the prepping went almost smoothly. Of course, there were the usual dropsies, care of Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, and the occasional shaking from SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley).
Which at the time got me irritated, but it was nothing compared to the EQ warned-about mental-hassle I was to suffer later.
The meal was passable, but of course, the following events ensured that I would not eat even half of it, thanks to the highest ever amount of telephone calls I’ve ever received and had to make. I’ve no doubt missed some off, and got them in the wrong chronological order, but I just had to vent my frustrations!
I was feasting away on the Chilli-Con-Carni, soaking up the gravy with the bread rolls. Feeling almost contented, at the taste of the fodder, and thought of getting my head down afterwards, as very appealing… but it was fated not to be!
Matron Jackie called me. She questioned me as to the situation with the Dioctyl®, ascertained other health conditions, and said she would call the Doctor to get some Poo-Softeners added to the monthly prescriptions. Bless her! ♥
Back to the meal, but it was too cold to enjoy, so I just dunked the cob in the gravy…
Someone from the Cardiac Monitoring team called. About the thrice-cancelled follow-up appointment. He/she (I wasn’t sure) wanted to know if I was available on November 27th, and could I get to the hospital for 17:00hrs, as Consultant Mr Chamkanni will be available then, it would be best if I could, because he was present when the mechanical valve replacement operation was carried out. I had a look at the Google Calendar and said yes, I could get there. After I’d rang off, that it dawned on me; 17:00hrs, that’ll mean no kip then. Getting home will have to be a taxi. Hey-ho!
Back to the meal, but it was beyond salvation. I gathered everything up and off to the kitchen to get the washing up done…
The landline came to life again. Back to the telephone… giving myself a decentish Toe-Stubbong Thomas en route. Argh! It was the Doctors Surgery.
She told me that the prescription for the tablets had been sent to the Chemists. Who informed her that they would not be delivering any prescriptions again. ‘Could you collect them?’ I pointed out that the Government letter I received, had the clear message; ‘You must not visit any chemists!’ on it.
Actually, I found out I was wrong when I reread the paperwork (Fool!) She said the only thing they could think of, was to get a taxi to pick up medicines, ‘Would you like me to arrange one for you?’ I was confused and dithering a bit and uncertain of what to do.
Back to the washing up, with my head all in a muddle. I decided to ring the surgery back, to ask them to arrange a taxi. On the eighth attempt, I got through. Okay, she says, you can arrange one then! The only thing I could do now was to pester Jenny again, explain things and beg her to arrange a cab for me, to collect the tablets and bring them to the flat. I’d be lost without Jen’s help. ♥
Before I could get to ring her, the landline was flashing again! It was the Eurologist to check on the progress with the bladder and bowels. She was on the line of ages, assessing, questioning etc. bless her. I was losing track of the conversation. But hse did tell me four times during the call, that they will not be able to supply me with any PPs, only pads. (Cost-cutting and saving time, with the Pandemic and all that). Same as when they told me that they would not be cutting my toenails again on the last visit. They are getting long and uncomfortable again already.
She wore me down with wanting me to try the pads, and I gave in, she said she’d send me some. Then she launched into demanding that I: stop drinking all teas apart from decaffeinated, and all drinks that are carbonated! Mmm!
I called Jenny and explained my situation with the tablets, and what the surgery told me to do about getting a taxi to collect them. Jen was most understanding and calm about me harassing her again ♥. She kindly said she’d call them, and ring back to let me know what’s what. I thanked her muchly and got back to the washing up again.
I was in a bit of a picklement now. Drained mentally, confused, discombobulated, anxious and fazed somewhat. Dizzy Dennis came on, and Duodenal Donald started to give me a heck of a pasting. There seemed so many ailments at the same time; I think Anne Gyna was in there with them somewhere! Hahaha!
The landline lit again. Jenny told me she’d arrange a cab for me, and it will be coming, and the driver will bring it up to the flat. What a compassionate woman! ♥
It was the taxi driver who was calling. But I could not make out most of what the chap was saying, the accent and my bad hearing being the cause! But I felt sure he was outside somewhere on Chestnut Walk.
I pestered Jenny again to advise her of the taxi, and she said she’d go down to collect the tablets from the driver, pay him and bring them up to me at the flat for me. What an Angel! ♥
As anticipated, it was Jenny. She had her caring hat on, and spent some time talking with me, and encouragingly about my current problems. She’ll never know how much that helped! (Well, she will when she reads this of course. Hehe!) ♥ She’d not only ordered the taxi for me and gone down and paid the man, but also brought the medicines to the flat for me! ♥ And offerred to help in fetching next months prescriptions for me! ♥
I got the capsules taken with the other evening medications, got down in the c1968 recliner, and soon flaked out! At last, my worries were reduced, and precious sleep was mine!
Thank heavens for Jenny being there for me, again! ♥
01:10hrs: I woke up with embarrassing warm wet trickling, from the PMD (Pre-Micturition-Dribble), and the PPs filling up! I was in a desperate need to get to the wet room in time!
I feel strongly enough about this, so I should explain the situation I find myself in here: Last evening, I realised why the wee-weeing had died down so much (I think). The month before last, the nurse asked the chemist if they could take the Furesomide tablets out of the pods because I do not need them all the time. She was told, No chance, they have to go in the pods. Fair do’s, I can cope. The Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, just up from the Lidl store, then took them out of this month’s pods, and I didn’t realise it. Hence, the weeing dried up, and last night I’d just taken one Fursomide tablet – (Furosemide is a type of medicine called a diuretic. (I looked all this up later) It’s used to treat high blood pressure, heart failure and oedema (a build-up of fluid in the body). It’s also sometimes used to help you pee when your kidneys aren’t working properly. Diuretics are sometimes called “water pills/tablets” because they make you pee more.)Boy, they are good!
Fancy that, Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Road, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, just up from the Lidl store, lying to me again! Then, not informing me of the changed medications, that they told the nurse they could not do, either! After looking it up on Google, I find they are also for my high blood-pressure, No wonder it’s shot up this month.Grobbleknackleballs!
I wonder what the odds are that Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, just up from the Lidl store, will have killed me before Christmas? Evens, I reckon at this rate!
Back to the chronological time-schedule;
Somehow or other, it was a bit of a miracle really, I got up, caught my balance, stampeded blunderingly to the wet room. Neally falling over Metal Mickey as I got the stick tangle up with my legs in a rush. But got there in time, but of course, the wee-wee was of the FFEA (Furious-Forceful-Ending-Abruptly) mode. But wisdom and experience told me to stay where I was, and I did! Sure enough, the AMD (After-Micturition-Dribbling) started a minute or so later, and went on and on for ages.
Thank you, Carrington Pharmacy. I then had the PP’s to pack ready for disposal, the spray from the wee and after dribbling too. From the wet room furniture, floor, then the weighty but flobby, body to clean up, and antisepticise the place! Get new PP’s on, dressed, and as I left to go to the kitchen.
I don’t know about doing the medications, health checks and making a brew, I felt like I’d been up for hours and was feeling so weary, I felt like going back to bed! Tsk!
However, being the brave, heroic type of man I am, I pressed on. Ahum!
I got the sphygmomanometerisationing done first. As I expected, thanks to Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Road, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, just up from the Lidl store, the BP SYS was even higher again today. Thunderclaps!
For some reason, the temperature was well lower than of late. I’ll think up a reason to blame Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Road, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, just up from the Lidl store, later. Hehehe!
Now, here’s another mind-boggler, in the shape of the next picture along on the SD card. Why did I take it? I can’t recall doing so? Perhaps it is something to do with Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Road, Carrin… I’ll have to stop blaming them! Hehehe! No doubt, most likely, perhaps, maybe I’ll remember it later on, or not.
I took a snap thought the balcony window, my giving a friendly wave and smile whilst snapping it. But I had the flash on so made a mess of it.
I tried again, without the flash on, I thought it would come out better, but I’m afraid that SSS (Suddering-Shoulder-Shirley) had a go at me. So a sort of ghostly appearance showed up. Hahaha!
I got on with making a Template up, then worked away like a good un, on yesterdays blog updating. SSS kept putting an appearance in, no doubt Nicolas’s Neurotransmitters are waiting for a more inopportune time to have a crack at me, and do more damage and upsetting me. I’ve noticed that lately!
The flaming ‘Hum’ seemed very loud again. It took me a good while, but I finished the updating and posted it off to WordPress. Emailed the link. Caught up on Facebooking. Then a summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived.
The struggle twixt Trotsky Terence and Constipation Konrad, was a one-way affair again, a 3-0 win to Konrad! Gawd-blimey it a rock-hard, painful, far bloodier, and even bigger than yesterdays dollop! Very uncomfortable.
I went to make another brew of tea, got sidelined to go back for another pee. Washed and made the brew of Thompsons Punjana tea.
I decided to get the ablutions done, just in case any of the nurses called to see me. This session was one of the bestest for a while now.
The split tooth was a bit sore, but it stopped after the teeth-cleaning was finished with.
The shaving I took extra care about after yesterday’s left the bloodied shower area looking like something out of Phycho!
The shaving went a lot betterer too! Only a few dropsies and two tiny nicks.
The shower brought on the heavy-brigade of ailments this morning. Dizzy Dennis, but his visit was very short, and I soon regained my balance.
Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, launched one of his involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances, but that was also short, it only lasted for a few seconds, I’say 30 at most? Nice!
Only one clout against the grab rail, and fortunately at that time, Nicolas’s Neurotransmitters were on strike, and I hardly felt a thing. Hahaha!
The left ankle blotch is clearing up, well, so is the right one too!
The new left wrist, whatever it is, has almost disappeared as well! I mustn’t get too excited!
The body is looking a little wane and pale again.
I even walked out after doing the medicating, freshening up, and getting dressed, without hitting or banging into anything!
Smug-Mode-Engaged!
I got on with the updating of this blog. The landline burst forth, it was a lady from Nottingham City Care, asking about my flu jab. I explained that I’d had it. I mentioned about the Poo getting rock-hard again, and I only had four of the Dioctyl® Poop-softeners left, none arrived with the prescriptions. She said she’ll tell Matron Jackie, for me. I thanked her muchly. ♥
Then I got the small waste bags made up and put in the large carton.
Then things went all out-of-sync like, became very confusing and panicky, mayhem-ridden, and my health took a worrying dive…
Update and part two of this Wednesday Diary to follow… I hope!
We put the unfathomability of this ode, down to Inchies dream affecting him!
Tuesday 10th November 2020
Kazakh: Сейсенбі, 10 қараша 2020
00:40hrs: Well, at least I woke up, but it was a tremendously disappointing event, it took me away from romancing, cuddling, and even betterer activities, in my memory prompting dream! I’ll say no more, then, other than perhaps, Cor!
In my still getting used to it being a dream, and not a real state, I rose from the £300, second-hand, c1968, fluctuant, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, rachitic, tatterdemalion, heavy, yet tottery, rickety recliner, in a robotic way, and made a bee-line for the wet-room automatically, the brain now freed of the frustrations of the dream, informed me en route that I needed a wee-wee. I don’t think that came out right? These erotic dreams don’t-half play havoc with, and leaves topsy-turviness in your thoughts!
As I got to the kitchen, to do the health checks, I felt a sudden surge of determination to get things done today. But I dropped the kettle in the sink, and the urge went away. Blungletads!
Sorted out the mess, and found the kettle still worked – it’s always worrying when a worryguts, hapless or ill-fated person like me gets good luck first thing in the day! It does not bode well!
I took, probably one of my worst ever photos of the morning view, and when I looked at it on the viewer, I was annoyed at myself, tutted, swore silently, proffered a word that questioned my parentage, and shut the window…
Trapping my wrist in the frame! My first thought was, ‘Well that serves you right!’. Which it did! And my EQ offered me some advice: Basically to be prepared for more Accifauxpas on the horizon! Oh, dear!
I got the kettle on, and did the Health Checks, starting with the Boot’s BP sphygmomanometer. The SYS was way too high, but lower than yesterday, which is of little comfort, but then again, I was built for comfort. Humph!
I used the new thermometer to take the temperature, after all, that’s what they were made for. Hehehe! A healthy reading came up, of 36.7° c. A lot better than it has been over the last few weeks. The batteries seem to be going down rather swiftly, though, Duracell in as well!
I got some waste bags made up, and put them with the ones I did yesterday and forgot to take to the chute. Well, fancy that!
Off to the computer and started my usual of late, jumping from one thing to another. It got all very confusing. It got even worse when SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) kicked off.
The notes I was making, were as bad as ever, and I can’t blame Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters for this, I write (badly) left-handed!
About three hours into computing and getting close to finishing the templates ready to start on the updating of the Monday blog, and a little itch on my neck needed itching. Boy did it sting when I had a little scratch at it!
I took this snap of the area while in the swivel chair, with the Nokia… No, the Nikon camera. Oddest looking marks I’ve seen in a long time. Why could I not feel the pain earlier? Had some alien or insect been nibbling at me?
I got the templates done, then I started to update the Monday post. All done, I sent the email links off. Did a Facebook catch-up, then the same with the WordPress REader section.
I decided it was breakfast time, so went to see what I had available in the kitchen. I ended up with Brown Bread thins with Marmite, two marmite cheese discs, a pickled egg, and some Frazzles. With a mug of Thompsons Punjana, I tucked into it, while perusing some YouTube car crash videos.
During which, the return of the itch, and this time it was bleeding a smidge? I decided to get the ablutions done, then after the shower, I could have a good look at things and get the medicating done. So, pots in the bowl, and off to the wet room.
Ablutionalisationing Report!
By the time I’d got the teeth done, no problems with this, I needed the Porcelain Throne. This time, the Battle twict Constipation Konrad and Trotsky Terence, was a 3-0 win for Konrad, things were back to how they were before the treatment and medications had started. A fat lot of good they did! The pain was chronic, back to misery again, and a fear of using the Throne, as well as the Sock-Glide (No chance! I just don’t wear socks now, too dangerous! All done and cleaned up, and on with the shaving. Ahem!
The dropsies were only a handful, but the nicks and cut, five of them, one on the side of the head, one under the chin and two back of the neck, were Nicodemus’s delight! Humph!
I noticed when I used this photo, the old skin cancer spot was looking a lot deeper black than usual. Surely it’s not coming back again? Globdangles!
Dizzy Dennis visited while I was under the shower, I did a fair bit of wobbling at times, but no bangs or falls whatsoever. Many dropsies, that many times did I drop the newly opened shower gel bottle, by the time I’d finished, it was almost empty. Haha! Might as well get a laugh out of it. Hey-Ho!
Then an amazing sight that I’d managed to miss completely until it came to towelling-off. It looked like the left ankle was coming out in support of the right one, with a new ankle-ulcer! But, neither of them was at or anywhere near the erupting stage. It’s been months since that happened. (I hope I haven’t tempted fate with saying that? Haha!)
As I left the wet room, I did not his hit, or walk into the door, frame or handle!
But I did but the slippers on the wrong feet, and so very nearly went arse-over-tit! The important bit is that I didn’t. Hahaha!
So lets recap; The new whatever it is on the neck. Trotsky Terence loses the battle with Constipation Konrad. I get a new bruise on the wrist. And BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) returns to give grief! I get a record number of cuts shaving. Mmm?
However, results of a Sherlock Holmesian Style Silver-Lining Search: I’ve had a leg dance, Dizzy Dennis attack, and tripped over in the kitchen – and not once did I end up on the floor! The slipper cock-up could have bad, but wasn’t! That’ll do me!
I got the kettle on and made a brew, then started to do some much-needed graphicalisationing on CorelDraw.
I was all settled at 12:45hrs, and listening for the intercom to go off, between the Morrison delivery time off between 13:00hrs to 14:00hrs. Nothing happened.
Just gone 14:30hrs, I found the secret telephone number to call them from Uncle Google. 0345 611 6111, and called them. All recorded message answers, in a clear female voice, said: “If you are waiting for a delivery, ‘Rest Assured’ we will contact you to tell you when it will be delivered. I rang off.
I have already received an email from them about the order. A bit of a fib there then, from them?
I’d already got the Chilli-Con-Carne in the saucepan, added some gravy, and was waiting for the beans to arrive to add to them.
So I turned it off.
So, it’s not only Sainsbury’s that hate me then, Morrisons as well now.
I needed the toilet, but dare not go in case the fodder arrives. That’ll do the bladder problem some good. Ay, Ay, Ay!
I got a Government letter that needs reading; six pages about not going out. High-Risk Status, and using a delivery service etc, for food.
Well, I tried mate! This is not a good state to be in, not knowing, but of course, as the recorded message said: “I can rest assured that Morrisons will contact me, and let me know when the food will be delivered”. Which they have already done by email, and that time is now an hour gone!
15:30hrs, Morrisons arrived. The young upbeat lady delivery-driveress, was well-stressed, but polite and friendly with it.
As she handed the bags and loose food to me, she explained that the freezer in her delivery van had gone down, and the poor thing had had a nightmare day.
(I felt for her, but couldn’t reach… (Joke, joke, joke! Hehehe!) I slipped her a can of Gin Lemon to cheer her up, and got the items into the kitchen.
Apart from being a much bigger order than the last Sainsbury one, the familiar crushed cakes and biscuits, stupid substitutions; the Citrus disinfectant that arrived at £3 – was Fig & Cedar (Fig & Cedar – oh, yes very Cirtrus that!) scented, smells like whiskey to me, horrible! No sausages. No brown bread thins. No chips (Freezer breakdown was the reason for them being late) Marmite crisp crushed, as were the shortbread crumbs (originally fingers). The mini cake rolls are now a mixture of flat and cubes rolls. At least I have three lemon yoghourts (it was a box of four, but one had burst open).
Plus, one of the carrier bags smelt beautiful. (That was the one with the split open bottle of lemon shower gel).
But the canned goods looked okay. Although one of the cans of Ghilli-Con-Carne had blown. I now had the Carnes in stock, red beans, baked beans and chopped tomatoes for adding to the chilli, all in stock, at least.
I put the goods away and got back to making the evening nosh.
When I first started prepping the Chilli, I anticipated the chips arriving, so I added extra gravy, but, of course, the chips did not arrive, so I had a thinner Chilli with tons of gravy to get through. But nae bother, with the added tomatoes and mild chilli powder, it went down a treat, a chipless treat, but still. Hahaha! I rated this one at 7.5/10.
Maybe, this might help Trotsky Terence to fight Constipation Konrad in the morning, for Top-Dog-Status on the Porcelain Throne? I hope so, it was Konrad who won the fight hands-down, today!
By the time I got the things in the bowl to soak, took the evening medications, and what turned out to be a rare wee-wee, I was all-in. Another late day (for me), and Sweet Morpheus was needed.
I settled and put the TV on, that often has a soporific effect and is usually guaranteed to get me nodding off. But not tonight, I found a Kitchen Nightmare programme just starting, and it was one I had not seen before and got into it, but no nodding offs during the breaks, just goes to show… but I’ve forgotten what it shows now. Tsk!
I stayed awake for the entire episode. (That’s a first, I think?) Sam’s Mediterranean Kabob Room. While I was searching for this photo of the restaurant, on Mr Google, I learnt that the place still failed and closed down.
I turned off the 1989-built TV, and rearranged my wobbly, rhinoceros-shaped body in the c1968 recliner for optimum falling-asleep, and drifting off into slumber. This was easily achieved, I believe I was dreaming again, but it’s all very vague.
A clunking noise woke me up later, and despite the fact that this usually prompts me to get up and search for the source, and to check everything is safe, alarms, anything falle over, this is the first time that I didn’t. I felt so tired and drained, “Oh, sod-it”, I thought, and went back to sleep! Hey-Ho!
00:10hrs: I bolted upright, knocking the TV remote from where it was, resting peacefully in the folds of my gigantic wobbly-bellied torso! I tried to stop it flying off, and sent the Spring Water bottle off of the ottoman, to join the remote somewhere in the distance on the floor.
Well, that was awakening with a difference!
Then as I was fighting and fumbling to get my elephantine body from the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unstable, dusty, broken-down, uncomfortable, decaying, rickety, rachitic, recliner, I recognised just how vicious the ‘Hum’ was this morning. I’ve never heard it so loud!
So, whatever the expergefactor that woke me up with such a jolt, it had to be investigated, or I could not relax without knowing what had caused it.
I just had to have a look around, and all my concentration was needed; thus I stubbed my toe against the bottle of Spring Water that I’d just knocked over, as I moved to search around for the cause, noise or whatever had brought me back to semi-life. This really was a differentrevivification. A painful one as well, now! All the worse due to the uncut toenails, and deformed bending right foot big toenail inwards. Hungleblogsworthy!
I went in every room (All three of them) seeking an explanation as to what had woken me from my slumber. Despite my Sherlock Holmesian investigations, I found nothing that might have been the cause. Shame, one day, I might? Hehe!
I took an imitation, weak, dribbling wee-wee. Washed the hands and off to the kitchenette to get the health checks done, but after getting the kettle turned on, I took this photo f the morning view – amazingly after three days of fogginess greeting me, there was none today, just a little mist.
I started with the Body Thermometer and got another fair reading like yesterday, but a little lower, of an acceptable 36.3°c. I did notice that the battery indicator was half-way down; this is going to be an expensive job at this rate. Hey-Ho!
The Boots BP sphygmomanometer reading, was contrarily, up even higher, to a worrying SYS of 172. I’ll try to remember to mention this to gorgeous Hristina, the Vampire Phlebotomy nurse when she arrives later on.
The plates of meat (feet) and toes were a little painful this morning. I took the medications and got the computer on, then had a look at the tootsies. The hallux (big toe) is moving again behind the Index toe. It seems I’ve acquired a bruise on the top of the left foot. Most probably, it’s from this morning’s fracas in getting out of the recliner?
I set about updating the Sunday Inchcock Today blog. It took me hours, but at least the wee-weeing was not interrupting me regularly today. Things seem to have gone on strike in the bladder department. Mmm? I finally got it done and posted off. Sent the email links. Facebooking, Comments, and went on the WordPress reader section.
I got a newsletter arrived by email, and had a look for any updates on the Coronavirus figure for the UK. This on the right was the only one available.
It seems (suspiciously) that they are no longer publishing the figures on every update in the Your Area magazine. I wonder why?
I got a p[ot of the new noodles to try. And I made a brew of Glengettie tea to have with it. The Glengettie well-brewed tea was as usual, perfect! But the Batchelor’s pot noodles were tasteless crap, and resembled eating newspaper; although the newspaper would most likely have been tastier! Be Warned folks! This is one snack to avoid! Eurgh, spit!
As a thick mist came down, and the rain started at the same time, I made a start on this diary. After an hour or so more, I realised it was a little later than I thought, and had to get off to tend to the ablutions. Otherwise, I might be in the nude when my precious Vampire nurse arrived. No time for a shower, it’ll have to be a rushed stand-up job. I am a fool!
When I got in the wet-room, the need for the first Porcelain Throne visit of the day arrived. The fluctuating battle, twixt Constipation Konrad and Trotsky Terence, I’d say was a 2-2 draw. Hehe!
The bruise on the back of the left hand is clearing up well. I won’t see it by morning!
The teeth-cleaning was pain-free!
The shaving was a bit of a struggle. Four dropsies, three little nicks, and a partridge in a pear tr… Oh no that’s wrong! Hahaha!
The medicationalisationing well smoothly for once. Smug-Mode resisted going into!
As I was coming out of the wet-room, Starkers! The intercom flashed. It was my Angel Vampire Nurse arriving nice and early. I had to rush about getting some trousers on, and I made it only just in time before Hristina was walking in the door… Phew! That saved her a terrible sight to look at! She soon got the job done, and although in a rush, she still managed to show care and concern for me. She’s brilliant at that! ♥
Sadly, of course, she had to shoot off to her next lucky patient. She was leaving me feeling a smidge down in spirits, as is only natural.
I got on with the hand-washing duties: a zip-up jacket and the jammy bottoms. I made a few accifauxpas, though.
I spilt the water on the floor, emptying the water in the bowl.
Knocked the stack of things draining, some went on the floor!
Putting the jammies on the coat-hanger, Nicodemus ensured that I lost grip and they went on the floor too!
After I’d got the job done and the clothes wrung and hung, as I turned to get the camera, Back-Pain-Barbara gave me a pasting, pain-wise!
Not one of my bestest hand-washing session! Argh! Then I had to clean everything up! Still, it could have been worse, I suppose, I didn’t go over or crumple!
I got on the computer again, I replied to a Jenny email, and changed some of the Morrison order, for tomorrow. I added some part-baked bread rolls, increased the Chilli-Con-Carne order to three cans, the bleach to two, and added two BBQ pot noodles (Not the crap Batchelor’s ones) to the items. I tried to add a jar of pickled eggs, but they haven’t had any for a while.
I uploaded and changed the spec of the photos to go on here, and as I did so, it dawned on, I’d only had four visits for a wee-wee up to now. Mmm, strange?
As I was doing some updating to this post, the door chimes rang out with Dusty’s tune. I hobbled to investigate.
Nobody was there, but Jenny ♥ had left me something in a carrier bag. It was a jar of Pickled Eggs! Now that was wonderful of her. She must have read about my problems in getting some on this blog. So, kind of her! ♥
A new bladder control sheet came through the door. Where was it from, or who, I do not know? It was just a sheet in the envelope with no stamps or anything else. I think maybe it was intended for someone else, not me? The one I was using from the Eurologist, is nothing like this one? This, I think, was done on Excel. Could have been dropped of my a family member, who got the address wrong? I’ll take it down to the foyer later on.
Ah, well, time to get something to eat methinks, oh, I’ll call Jenny first to thank her for the pickled eggs. We had a good long nattering session, I enjoyed that, but not Stuttering Stephanie causing me problems. Tsk!
As I got in the kitchen to plan the meal, the door chimes rang forth again.
It was Josie returning the meal plate tray and cutlery. I did inquire if she relished her dinner, and she told me it was fantastic. Something else to perk me up! Great!
Back to the mise en placing, then. I fancied chips of some sort; I’ve not had any for yonks now. Pork knuckle (Golonkowa), cobs, and… Oh, I don’t know, not enough garden pea to use the last tin, but some might be coming tomorrow. I’ll go int kitchen, and do what comes naturally. Hehe!
I dug into the freezer and found some of their sell-by date, Ridiculously Crispy chips, so it shall be – I bashed and banged them to separate them, opened the can of pork knuckle. Sliced some tomatoes, had a Jenny donated pickled egg with black pepper, and the only dessert left in the fridge, an orange jelly. I’d added the two part-baked roll to the chips later, which came out alright.
Indeed the whole meal looked appealing to me.
Disappointingly, when it came to my noshing of this fair looking feast – I found many faults and things not to my liking. The good stuff, first: The pickled egg and pork knuckle were fine. The tomatoes were tasteless – the pickled onions had I think, ‘Gorn orf!’ As Her Majesty might say. Hehe! The rolls were like warm-newspaper clipping soaked in rainwater!
And the chips, well, they had a flavour unbeknownst to me before, a sort of cross, between the taste we whipper-snappers used to get in the forties and fifties when we chewed on out tin soldiers, and cough medicine. I tried a few, but I gave up, as I reckoned it might be dangerous to consume any more of them.
The somewhat out of date orange jelly had formed a leather-like coating on top that I had to dig my way through to get to the few edible bits. As I said at the start of this gastronomic report, thank heavens for the pickled egg and pork knuckle. They, at least, kept my Flavour-Rating up to 4/10.
Back to the Chilli-Con-Carne tomorrow I think, but I might have something coming on today’s Morrison order to have, I vaguely recall having an interest in a ready-made meal on their site, but of course, I could be wrong. I often am, you know!
I dished the uneaten fodder in the waste bin and took it to double wrap, to throw down the chute in the morning… but it had to happen didn’t it; will I ever have a day, just one day, without Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, launching into one of his involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dancing? Obviously not! Mind you, it was good long one, and this helped me not to go over. I believe. I did bash the leg on the edges of the cupboards a couple of times so that I may find a new bruise or two around the right shin in the morning ablutions.
At one point in the cross between a one-legged jive, and Stanley Matthews kicking footballs at goal from a distance, I was even pleased, with my dexterity even though I had no control over it.
As I say, it was a long job, and the usual aches, stings and pains were suffered afterwards, they are always worse after a lengthy dance.
Yet I felt an infinitesimal, iota of pride, in my staying on my feet, or at times it was just my one foot, (Hehe!). And avoiding any serious damage to my beefy, masculine, fit, young, highly-toned, muscular body. Hahaha!
Sweet Morpheus was kind to me tonight. I was off to sleep in a short time, perhaps before I was ready. For when I woke up, there were cheese biscuit crumbs liberally scattered over my elephantine belly, and in the folds. Can’t win ’em all!
00:05hrs: The usual waking up wanting a wee-wee, with the innards warning me of an upcoming eruption from the innards, via the rumbling, grumbling, and quaking of the skin, literally making the folds of flesh hanging from my belly, shake, as the escapages of wind torrented away. Not only painfully, but even without my hearing aids in, I could hear the almost-musicals tones of the concinnity of the concert of escaping wind, too!
Then, as the mind gained some weak form of control over its own thoughts, the challenge of removing the bouncier than ever, bellied-body from the c1968 recliner was tackled.
A job that this morning, needed a man of steel, heroism, guts, bravery and determination to achieve; but being as I was the only person here, I had to do it myself. (Hehehe!) Clambering up onto my feet was completed with some degree of ease, but getting and keeping my balance, was a smidge difficult – even though there were no Dizzy Dennis, or Wobbling William’s bothering me. A bit worrying, that was. I took my time patiently and eventually was ready to set off for the wet room.
The wee-weeing caught me out; it was a lot more dynamic than of late (which is a good thing), and of much greater duration! The colouring put me up in the ‘Fair’ zone on the NHS Bladder-Infection grading card. And, there was no Post-Micturition After Dribbling. (It’s [Fate], doing it again, to me, fooling me by slipping in some good luck, or mock improvement medical-wise, early in the day – experience knowing full-well I’m going to suffer later) – it’s so cruel! But I wasn’t going to go into any semi-contentment or smug mode. I’m not being going to be conned again! (Well, I might be)
As I was washing my hands after taking the leak, I knocked some bits off of the floor cabinet, and I returned to the front room, to get the long picker-upperer to reach in the corner behind the loo, where the Germolene tube and Hearing-aid oils had rolled. Tsk!
I noticed how the bruise or underskin bleeding, (Which is a bruise, I suppose – waffling again, sorry!), on the back of the left hand, was getting less darker, so it might be clearing itself up? Not any pain from it, unless I bang it against something, which if not in my plans. Hahaha!
Back to WC room, reclaimed the dropped items, and off to the kitchenette, to get the kettle switched on. I peep out of unwanted, unliked, light & view-blocking windows revealed a fog-and-a-half had descended. I got the Nikon camera and took a shot of the view.
Health Checks: the sphygmomanometer showed the SYS had shot back up after yesterdays respite. Now at 174, Tsk! Took the medications with spring water and then, made a note to remind me to email the Doctor later, because I need to ask about the DioctylPoo-Softeners got the thermometer into use to see if the temp had gone up any. Medications, brew and computer on and photo downloading.
As I was taking a photograph of the morning fog, a summoning came to the Porcelain Throne. To which I hastily replied with a swift, fast, hurried lightning-like rush to the WC… Well, something like that, at least I hobbled hastily there! It seems that Constipation Konrad is losing the battle again, and Trotsky Terence was in command of this visit! It will be difficult to express the changes to the nurse; each time, from one extreme to the other, I can get easily discombobulated, you know!
I cleaned up, it was a messy one; and went to make a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea. And jolly decent it was.
Seeing the Chilli Con Carne cans there on the counter, I swiftly went into my Sherlock Holmesian Mode: I carried out a search and Chilli-Con-Carne shortage investigation.
I felt sure that I’d ordered three Hubbard’s cans from Sainsbury’s, and three from own label from Morrisons. I know that the Iceland shop didn’t have any of the Princes that I wanted, that bit I can recall. But: Did I put the cans somewhere else than in the kitchen? It’s possible, I suppose? So I had a reconnoitre in the other room. A degree of ferreting about produced a carrier bag, with a tin of Princes Chilli-Con-Carne, and Italian beans, and some packets of instant potato powder? And a puzzled expression on my face.
My total failure to find out what the mystery of the missing cans of Chilli-Con-Carne riddle was, Back to the computer, and bless their crooked cheating, incapable souls, Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet went down!
I made up an Iceland order. For Thursday 12th November 08:00 to 10:00hrs. Unfortunately, they have no Chilli available, Tsk! Never mind, if I can get out one day, I can call at the Poundland shop to try and get some of their cheapos.
Time to get the Ablutionalisationing done now. The session did not go too well… (Understatement time!)
It was SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) who made the first attack. (I pictured her success here on the left) I had to admire her cunning, it was the only shake she gave me in the wet room, and her timing, just as I was about to pull the old razor down my cheek, was perfection. If I’ve got to have ailments, it’s a comfort to know they will keep me on my toes, although I got caught out well with this five-second-shudder! Globdangnations!
An absolute cracker of a toe-stubbing in the shower against the chair. And nearly, but not after-all, toppled over when I hit the doorframe coming out. Not even any bruises came up, a bit of a powder-puff effort.
Got many bags of waste sorted out, onto the three-wheeled-walker guide.
Took them in a box to the waste-chute room, without any incidents or damage. Slight-Smug-Mode adopted!
I popped down to Jenny’s with some treats the three of them for the weekend, and back up to the flat. Then I made a brew of the beloved Glengettie tea.
Made a start on prepping Josies ~Sunday lunch. Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters played up, I wasn’t far off of cutting myself on the opener blade, but managed just to let it fall, and nae bother. No opening of the Tuna tins after that, just in case. So I got the battered cod sticks and smoked haddock filled fish cake, and got them in the oven cooking for her. She likes the tuna as well, but too risky as Nicodemus is at the moment, I nearly cut myself slicing the tomatoes, but luckily it was only the fingernail that was sliced. Phew! Risky work this cooking today, Hehe!
I got Josie’s dinner finished off and delivered it to her door, a little late today, 12:10hrs.
I had a bit of a nasty turn as I pressed the bells on the door. Dizzy Dennis, Head-Spinning Spiros, and Balance-Loss Lesley. I wasn’t completely with it by the time Josie answered the door. I think I was only there a couple of minutes, but many blanks in the memory box of what we spoke of.
As I was, for some reason struggling to get in through the doorway, it was as if someone had put the lights back on in my head; My balance returned, Dizzy Dennis disappeared, leaving me a little puzzled as to what had just happened? Looking back at the day, it’d been an odd-one in many ways. Hey-Ho! All fine now.
But I must try to resist going into these stupid ‘Disaster-encouraging’, misleading, Smug-Modes! It only makes the guaranteed cock-up, mistake, error, loss-of, picklement-coping, Whoopsiedangleplop, Accifauxpa, or incoming bad news, far worse to cope with ulteriorly.
I gave-in to, defeated by the sudden wave of Thought-Storms, and turned off the computer. Then opened the can of Churchills 5% beef Spicy Chilli-con-Carne, and added the remaining left-over peas from Josies’ nosh to the mix, and added a little gravy as it warmed up.
As it heated, I did some half-hearted, Stroke Recovery exercises, (Feeling guilty for not doing these more often), hoping this would help bring me into a more relaxed and contented mode. I was seemingly doing well with them… until Peripheral Pete, launched one of his involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances, and over I went, landing luckily on the plastic waste bins.
This put an instant end to any ideas of work-outs.
Getting back up was horrendously difficult, and I was close to having to press the wristlet alarm. But, somehow, I managed to crawl on all fours to Metal Mickey, and used him and the worktop to regain my stance. The mess I’d made of the waste bins was of no concern to me at that time, I was well miffed!
I got the part-baked baguette in the oven, and out some Phoirpain gel on the knees and bruises while it cooked. Took the evening medications, then got the meal served up.
This ‘Spicy’ Churchills Chilli-con-Carne, was the mildest I’ve ever tried, so much so, that I added and stirred in some chilli powder to the mix? If I can ever get to town again, I hope that the Poundland shop will have some of these in stick, or even stock.
I got the fodder consumed in its entirity, to satiety, and settled in search of sleep.
But, Sweet Morpheus was not playing fair, and the exasperating Thought Storms invaded again. Crigglebogsnot!
Finally, I drifted off. Only to be woken by I know not what, two hours later!
01:30hrs: Woke wanting a wee-wee. I wrenched my wonderfully-fit, firm, fat-free, furuncleless, amazingly muscled, massively-genitally-gifted body from the brand new, recliner, and singing-out-loud, ♫ Oh what a beautiful morning ♫, Gordon MacRae, style, as I skipped jollily to the wet room, without walking into anything, a dizzy spell, or any leg dancing! Ahem!
I thought I’d start today’s I.T. with a whopping great long series of terminological inexactitudes, cause I was in a decent frame of mind for a change. Knowing that after all the hassle, help from Matron Jackie, and panicking yesterday, I knew I’d got some Bisopropol (Beta-Blocker) tablets to take this morning. So I felt the urge to share my temporary satisfaction/sanity mode, with you, to raise a laugh. Hahaha!
I exited the wet-room, uninjured, and poddled to the kitchenette. Got the kettle filled, and started the Health Checks. First the temperature, and look at it! Much higher, and I think within range too! Swank-Mode-Adopted!
The old Boot’s BP sphygmomanometer gave forth more heartening figures. The SYS was down to 163. I increased my Smug-Mode to DefCon-3! Hahaha!
Then went to make a brew. Unaccountably, I decided to have a mug of the healthier, well, better for bladder and diabetes, so they tell me. Decaffeinated Morrison’s tea. But it was a disaster. Weak, insipid rubbish! I might as well have had just a drink of warm, water, it was terrible!
I went back to the kitchen and made a brew of the Yorkshire brand Decaffeinated slop; I mean tea. (Although maybe not!) It looked a lot stronger and tastier…
Nae, that’s a fib, that tea was horrible too! But was only just, barely passable… Eurgh! Still, I drank some of it, to take the medications with. The new trial Cephalexin, anti-bacterial infection capsule, instead of the Amoxicillin was taken for the first time with the regular medications. Phorpain gel applied to the knees, to counter Arthur Itis and PKCCP (Proximal Knee-Cap-Cartilage-Pain), Sounds all knowledgable, don’t it, Hahaha! I’ll have a go at the other areas when I get the ablutions done.
I had two tries at getting a decent shot of the view, as the fog came down outside. The first one was in the ‘Night Landscape’ setting: the second in Aperture Priority. Neither looked anything like what my eyes were seeing. Tsk!
It was a long slog, but getting the updating done, with the occasional veering off-track and doing some graphics on CorelDraw for templates, took me many an hour.
I had a break and made a proper good mug of proper Glengettie tea. Aye, by Jiminnee, that was more like it! Then got the Saturday, (no you fool!) Friday post sent off. Emailed the link off, and Pinterested some snaps. Went on Facebooking, then the WordPress Reader. The fog is deepening a tad.
Reluctantly I made an order for Sainsbury delivery. Unfortunate that, because after the last order, with its stupid substitutes, overcharging, and damaged good, I thought I’d never use them again. But I cannot get any pickled eggs (Apart from Amazon, but they charge even more than Sainsbury’s, over a quid more than JS do, for jars of just five eggs. Mind you, if I buy a jar of approx., guessing by the photo, they are sold by weight (2.25kg), about 25 eggs, was only £25!!! No point though, it would not fit in the fridge. The first date available for me was Saturday next, 14th November, at 13>1400hrs. Not worried about it though, I’ve got a Morrison one coming for next Tuesday, I’ll not starve (He says hopefully, Hehehe!)
Aha, the fog is turning into a mist now.
I continued working on the blogging of today’s diary. Managed to get one graphic done in advance, on CorelDraw. Pathetic, but better than none!
The mist is lingering somewhat this morning. And I am wee-weeing well, but only little teeny-weening jobs. Haha!
Feeling shackered now, time for me to get the nosh prepared. Got the Princes canned Chilli-Con-Carne on the go, sliced some tomatoes to go in. I bravely added some gravy to the mix, with Chilli seasoning in it. Only a little mind.
As I was turning of Computer Cameron, I came across the latest Coronvirus figures for Nottingham.
They are not publishing them so clearly or often nowadays – this is an opportunity for the Conspiracy Theorists to use, surely?
I’d taken the bread thins out of the freezer earlier, and they were ready to be used with rather hotter than a planned bowl of Chilli dinner. A pot of lemon mousse and aa Cox’s Pippin apple added to the tray, and I got settled o watch a ‘New Tricks’ DVD while eating the fodder on my knee. Luxury!
On the first forkful of Chilli, I ate – I thought; “Hello, you’ve made this too hot mate!”. But oddly as I carried on, it seemed to be highly acceptable, and I ended up loving it. I ate all of the bread thins as well, a lot of extra gravy to mop-up, Hahaha!
A decent flavour-rating of 7/10 was granted (The bread thins had thawed out with hard edges, Tsk!) Ah, well! Just a shame that this Princes Chilli-Con-Carne from Iceland costs twice the price of Sainsbury’s Hubbard’s or Morrison’s own label!
: Did the pots, and I made a check on my stocks of canned CCC (Chilli-Con-Carne). I could only find three cans! This will have to be investigated in the morning. Panic-Mode-Adopted!
