Friday 8th May 2020
Serbian: Петак, 8. маја 2020
01:40hrs this morning, I got finally got my head down. Helped by sheer mental-fatigue, earlier sleep deprivations, extra Codeine 30g having been taken, and the wee-weeing incidents slowing down.
06:00hrs: I woke, to my EQ warning me; “Just get on with it, bear the brunt of what is coming?”
The lightness of the late morning made me a little confused for a few seconds. Then the brain engaged gear and joined in with cringingly flobby and oversized-stomached torso, in activationalisationing.
As I tackled getting the lumbering body mass from the £300, second-hand, c1968, broken mechanically, rinky-dinked, démodé, rickety recliner, caught my balance and grabbed the four-pronged walking stick, the need for another wee-wee came to the fore. Off to the EGPB (Emergency Grey Plastic Bucket) for am HLSB (Hosepipe-like-short-blasting) type, wee-wee. Knocking some stuff off of the corner stand en route to the kitchen. Tsk!
Made a mash of Thompsons Punjana tea. Took the medications. Olive oiled the ear-holes and found I was not looking forward to the Party in the Pod.
Feeling a smidge melancholic, I suppose. I cannot physically move an easy chair and or table into the balcony. Can’t decorate the pod, I can’t even open the bloody windows! Such are the ailments, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters dying, RAI (Rheumatoid Arthur Itis, Dizzy Dennis, Saccades Sandra, Shaking Shaun, Roger Reflux, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley etc. are all going to prevent me enjoying and taking part in the so-called party. The Residents Group, are kindly going supply some nibbles for the picnic in the pod. Deafness will prevent me from hearing the music they are going to play from the rooftop, and join in. It makes one feel more isolated when you can’t physically join in things. As I mentioned, I can’t even open the new, unwanted, disliked balcony windows this morning. Nicodemus ensured that.
But, others are in the same boat. And this realisation soon brought me out of my appalling, momentary, self-pitying-mode. Bad innit, when you get feeling like this! Glad I shook myself out of it, and took some photos, some through the glass of balcony, others from the kitchen window.
On the computer and started this post off (In between wee-wees, Tsk!).
Put the computer in sleep mode, and off to get the ablutions done.
But had a change of plans for some unknown reason, I got the handwashing done, wrung, and hung, while I sang a song! Hehehe! (Tower of Strength, Frankie Vaughan)
Off to the wet room, and noticed how full the waste bin was getting. Another diversion! I took the bag and container into the kitchen to clean, and sorted out four small black bags of rubbish, and loaded them in the trolley-walker, and took them to the waste chute. Back to the flat, with the toes worse than ever making hobbling uncomfortable. (I mention this, cause I don’t want you to worry about me being contented, free-of-pain, or even slightly happy! Hahaha!)
I was not of excuses to avoid getting the ablutions tended to, (Har-har!) It was, I think, the thought of having to clean and medicate Little Inchies fungal lesion that was making me delay the procedure. (Gawd, it’s a painful daily task! [Coward?]). Another wee-wee first, then I got the teggies done.
I did manage a decently deep cut under the chin, shaving, though. Then under the shower, using the freebie shower gel pot, and the last of the carbolic soap. (Will I ever find any again? Sob!) Olive-oiled the ears again. Applied the Germoloid, and Germolene creams. Rubbed in the pain gel on the knees and arms.
The dropsies were not too bad this morning. Toilet roll, Toothbrush, razor (2), shower gel pot, carbolic soap, the Jenny ♥ supplied picker-upperer, and the Germoloid tube. Then, with no more reasons I could think of to avoid it, I tackled the fungal lesion medicating. “Argh!” comes to mind as the best descriptive word to describe the experience. But at least it was done, I hoped and prayed that the lesion does not start bleeding again and give me break. Tsk!
As I was spraying and freshening up the torso, with body spray, Dettol, after-shave and clothes freshener, te need for the Porcelain Throne arrived. A much more manageable, if massive, session, this time. Although for an unknown reason, it left me so sore. I cleaned the tender rear area and reapplied some Germoloid cream once more, (Thank heavens Jenny was able to get me some Germoloid on her order last week, thanks, Jen!). And, off to take a Codeine with a mug of tea.
The ‘Hum’ had now got as loud as yesterday’s was, and that was rambunctiously so! It was getting to me, so what any poor devil with decent hearing was going through, I don’t know.
I had a go on CorelDraw to try to make some graphics before the picnic-pack arrived, for the People in the pod celebrations on the balcony start.
Sister Jane rang, bless her. Told me to watch BBC1 again. I was waiting to get the picnic-in-the pod. I went onto making a silly ode about Coronavirus and the lock-down easing. Got it finished and published. It’s not of my betterer ones, but still. Such a shame.
The doorbells chimed, twas a very kind young lady delivering the Picnic-in-the-pod nibbles, bless her. Some Melton mini-pork pies in there! Perfect timing. I consumed a mini-pie and took one with me out on the balcony with a cup of tea. Not an easy job with the walking stick. It took me three trips.
I took some photographs from inside the balcony (Pod).
The end windows were too tricky for me to open. I recall slicing my finger the first time I tried when the lethal metal spring clip that needs pulling and pushing at the same time. The blood flowed! I managed to open two of the front windows, though.
I also waved to a few people, but no one responded. So, I drank the tea, put the cup in the washing up bowl, and returned to the balcony, even more, determined to get someone to wave back to me! Of course, no one did, not that I saw, anyway. Got the camera again.
I took a couple of zoomed-in shots of the flags on Elmswood Gardens.
I saw how bad the first photo was of the top of the hill, so I took another one. It seems that Winwood Heights was being photographed by a lot of people today.
I could not see who they were below, or who was in the pods, but I put my best grin on and waved away. No acknowledgements or return waves received.
So, I stuck to photographicalisationing a few more efforts. I noted that we had attracted the Constabulary. I’d love to know who the lady was in the period gown, HRH? ♥
Hello, are two more Police Ossifers with long shadows, going along Chestnut Walk, now! I wonder if they were checking on social-distancing, drug-dealing, or just after some freebie-nibbles? Hahaha!
I decided I’d been photographed enough, ignored, and needed a wee-wee. So, of I trotted to the wet room.
On returning to 
the balcony, I took the last snap of some folks down below, I think it might have been relatives of tenants, knowing we’d (well some of us) be in out pods, who’d come to visit from a sage, or even, safe, distance?
I attempted to close the windows. Hahaha! What a farce! I tried all sorts to get the panes to go back where I moved them from. I got a little frustrated with myself. I boldly applied extra pressure and raised the glass at the same time, and they closed? I’m really sure what I did, but it worked. It would be nice to know how I did it.
Then I thought I heard some banging, and thought it might not be Herbert, but someone at the door, so I went to investigate…
The door handle and fittings that were already loose, just fell off! Now, this was bad, but it had a good side to it!
With just going on the balcony earlier, I came the missing box of screwdrivers. Safely ensconced in the three-wheeled-walker! Good job, too, or it would have meant my disturbing someone to get help. I managed to get the mechanism back inside the slot and tighten things up. Smug Mode-Engaged!
Blimus, it’s late! Got the nosh on the go. I got the superb, kindly donated Melton Mowbray pork pies, silverskin onions and terrible, bitter-tangy, sour tomatoes on the plate. Then, got the superb-tasting ‘Naturally Imperfect’ chips in the oven, and readied some Petit Pois in a pot for later cooking.
I got my meal served up, on the tray. Rather a lot this time, but I felt I could manage it all, especially with not having any dinner the day before.
I had to nip to the wet room for a wee-wee and found that Little Inchies fungal lesion had been bleeding again. This cost me the meal going cold, and the usual agony, and some arghing. Hehehe! I got things cleaned up, changed PPs, washed and back to the semi-warm meal.
Got the fodder to the recliner, and found that the balcony doors clicked open of their own accord? Baffled as to why; I investigated. The catch was not snapping in, and I had a hell of a job, fiddling and guessing which position the lock button should be in, and trying to work out how. By pure chance came to the rescue, and I got it locked at last. It didn’t do me much confidence-wise when I realised I had three keys, all different?
The food was stone cold by the time I got down in the c1968, second-hand, £300 rickety, none-working recliner, to eat. Then, I realised I could not find the TV remote control!
I had the most extended search in history to find the controller, but no luck whatsoever!
What should’ve been a super-nosh, ended up being picked at, and only got a 4/10 for a taste-rating! It looked so delicious as well. All those wonderful chips wasted. The gorgeous petit pois, too. The only things that were not spoilt by being cold were the Morrocan tomatoes, but they were really foul-tasting, bitter and almost juiceless. Grumblebotherations!
I put the things in the washing-up bowl to soak and conducted planned search for the TV remote. All rooms checked, no success! I settled down, resigned to having no TV to help me fall asleep! Bad, that! Yet, within minutes, despite the Thought Storming, I nodded off. Yeehaa!
I woke up minutes later, to the sound of something thudding? I struggled out of the recliner, grabbed the stick, and went on a look around, to find what might have caused the noise. I found a lot of books on the bookcase had fallen over. Indeed this would not have been noisy enough to wake me up? But I could see nothing else untoward anywhere.
As I was successfully failing to get back to kip, the wall-clock fell off the wall!
My Gawd; is the building about to collapse?
As I struggled up and to the clock with the stick and picker-upperer, the mini vacuum cleaner, fell out of its charging base!?!? What?
Ah, the mysterious wonders of 72, Woodthorpe Court: The Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, 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?
I settled once again, with the thought, well, dream, of getting some sleep. The late sunshine burst through the flimsy, thin curtains, lighting up the legs.
I was probably the way the pins were resting on the chair, but they looked to be getting some more meat on them? I swear, the long toenails hurt in their own right, along with the Colin Cramps attack at the time I took this shot.
When the evening sunshine dipped, I was soon in the land of nod!
At last!
I’d amazingly fell asleep early last night, amazing! It didn’t last long, though.
I woke with a rare and nervewracking, alarming, urgency, in desperate need of a wee-wee! Fumbled my way out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, uncomfortable, not-operational, tatty, dangerous, flea-bitten, rickety recliner. Caught my balance, grabbed the stick, and off to the wet room. 
Well, I’m up as gum-tree now! I went and got the veg prepped and into the crock-pot.
Then, off for another wee-wee. Things were less powerful this time, and not so much released either. The fungal lesion was not bleeding, that was something at least! Is my ill-fortune changing? 
Off for, unbelievably, another wee-wee. 
ght for bread and milk, which I am. I thanked her for thinking of me. 
The evacuation was of the BOBSL (Blasting-Out-But-Short-Lived) variety for a change. Changed the PP’s in case any leakages in my rush had gone unnoticed. 
04:25hrs: I woke, with the tummy rumbling, and some wind fluttering from the rear-end. This was different! Aha, the Porcelain Throne needed. Maybe this time, I can actually move something, if the Macrogol has done its thing, I thought. Action needed. 
I glanced at the pins (legs) before attempting to move, it seemed the left one had put on some fluid or weight, the right one had lost weight. I know this happening is regular, but today it seemed a more marked difference. Hey-ho!
The toes and feet were just as bad though. But during the short hobble to the wet room, I recognised that many ailments were on strike this morning. Hehe! Saccades-Sandra, Duodenal Donald and Reflux Roger pains were none existent! Anne Gyna, Shaking Shaun and Arthur Itis were hardly giving any hassle at all! Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters were going off and on at will. Shoulder-Shuddering-Shirley as having the odd jerk. It’s just as well, the toes and feet were bad enough on their own.
I got down on the disabled raised Porcelain Throne and instant action! For a second or two, then I hit a half-in/half-out, no-go period. Which was not wasted, I got on the crossword book and got a few solutions done, and the ‘flow’ began again. The pain was alarming, but it did it all of its own accord, no effort needed from yours truly at whatever. All I had to do was bear the pain. It’s alife innit, gerrin’ old! But once again, things could have been a lot worse. Harold’s Haemorrhoids and Little Inches fungal lesion had both only produced a few specks of blood! I moved my slight inkling of semi-hope, up to a Semi-Contented-Status. I still felt that things were going too well, and a distant, nebulous, concern lingered in my mind.
Off to the kitchen, took the medications as best I could. The medicine avalanche and tumble yesterday has left me guessing at what tablets are what, from the selection, I’d retrieved from the floor. 
Then I made a mug of the Glengettie Gold tea. 
and it came on. Having some bother now, ain’t I?
my dragged feet and the four-pronged walking stick, searching to no avail. Grrr! 
I got carried away clearing up and made another couple of boxes to go to the waste chute. I got them dropped down, and a feeling of expectancy of something different about to happen on my way back, not necessarily a good thing either is on its way, came over me. Someone or thing had walked over my grave!
Boy, the legs were cold (not wearing trousers does that to you, sometimes). Yet the sunshine outside was strong. Jane said she went out earlier and it was nippy. I suddenly got the feeling that I had left the tap running in the wet room, panicked, muttered something like ‘Argh! back in a bit’, and shot off to infestigate, well investigate I should have said. All was okay in the wet room, and I returned quickly and explained my ignorant behaviour. It was hard to hear what Jane was saying, a very echoey line, and she was talking rather fast. 
I pressed on with this blog for a few hours. 
It brought out the wrinkles a bit, mind. Haha! 
I got on with sorting the meal. Ended up with a delightful plate of, Mushroom pate (Sorry Jane). sweet potato fritters (Excellent!). Halloumi sticks (Not bad), mushrooms (seasoned with hickory, soya and sea salt). Pickled Gherkins, a mix of sour Morrocan, and sweet Netherlands tomatoes. One of the freebie red apples from Serbia. One super-tasty sourdough muffin with Marmite, and a pot of lemon mousse. having to use the Ski first, as they have a later date than the Tesco ones that Jenny got for me. All in all, a Flavour-R
I found a 1962 film about to start, on channel 81 Freeview. ‘Crooks Anonymous’, starring Leslie Phillips, Stanley Baxter & Wilfrid Hyde-White, James Robertson Justice, Dick Emery, 
03:55hrs: I been up for about three hours by this time, thanks to sleep not being interested in joining me. Pottering about half-heartedly, I pretended to sort-out the fridge, concentrated on it for a full five minutes. Then toyed at doing the washing up. 
I made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea. And found that I had calmed down, and gone into ‘Accepting-Mode’? Even as I stood there, amid the medical mayhem, mess; There was no guilt, no feeling sorry for myself, or sulking! I think that with Nicodemus playing up, the full message of the pain had not got through to the brain? Oh, course I could be wrong. 
the window, and took a photo of the morning moon. As I stood there with the window open, I found myself off on a Thought-Storm again. Not a particularly bad one, mind. More, strongly musing, and casting away the worrying thoughts, and holding onto the better ones. This is not like m
got the large order in a bag or two at a time, and into the kitchen. Despite the horrendous start to the day, I was feeling good. As I packed away the goods, I realised there had been a lot of substituting and items not delivered. 
I hope their smokey bacon is better tasting than the watery Iceland label rubbish. But I fear the look identical. A high-note, the yhad sent some of the delicious sweet potato Fritters, and I tried a pack of Hovis sourdough muffins. The bananas were a tad green, but not to fret. I got the fridge stuff put away first. 
It was hard work making the room to get it in, I’d ordered a fair bit. Initially, I was tickled pink when I saw they had some Cox’s apples in stock and ordered a pack. Grobblecluckinghell! Every apple was either bruised, pot-marked or had a wormhole in them! I’m sorry I gave the bloke a can of plonk now! Humph! 
I found a packet of two frozen Louisiana Chick’n Burgers? I did not recall ordering these, but they’d charged me, so I must have. On closer inspection, it claimes Amazing Chicken Taste, but I could not see any meat in the ingredient list? I’ve never been less interested in any product in my life! Vegetarian or Vegan? Not for me! I dished it in the waste bag, which made just enough room to get the other stuff into the freezer, Haha! 
The job was done, and another brew made, I might get to drink this one. 
I got the ablutions tended to. I could hardly believe hoe the body had changed so quickly. The arms and legs had positively shrunk! But the already overbearing stomach was much bigger? The toenails keep getting longer and more painful. Anyroad, the session was another good one. Only two little nicks shaving. I did cut the gums a fair few times when I was doing the teeth, but that was all down to Shuddering Shoulder Shirley. Little Inchies fungal lesion had been bleeding, but I’ve had it a lot worse this. Harold’s Haemorrhoids were only trickling blood. All in all, a surprisingly decent session! 
Some more updating (will I ever get it done?) I took a snap of the shadowy bottom field. Funny how the Nikon seems much better at taking this sort of shot in auto mode. The Panasonic is not so good. 
ling away, I wonder what he’s making today. 
milk stuff from the Government, and now they have no bread delivered from Iceland! Just look at the list of have-nots-in-stock! It’s a grand job that Jenny is doing for me. I shouldn’t have to worry about desserts until the next Morrison delivery arrives in three weeks, though. I’ll try to get some bread from the mobile shop on Friday, I’ve enough until then. I’ve put the sourdough muffins in individual bags in the freezer, having one tonight perhaps, I’ve left that one out in the 
kitchen.
always like this. Went out on the balcony to take a shot of the wonderful clouds. I like this one. 
I made another brew and started on this post. I noticed when I used the rath
I had a quick search for the latest Coronavirus figures available, Nottingham and local East Midlands cities, and the UK. 
Sokowlo pork hot dogs, fries, cheese discs, a mix of cherry tomatoes; the foul, bitter-tasting Moroccan ones from Iceland, and the Netherlands ultra-tasty sweet ones from Morrisons. Chestnut mushrooms, a well-bruised Morrison’s Cox’s apple, a lemon mousse dessert (having to eat the Ski mousse first, as they are shorter-dated than the Asda ones that Jenny got for me) The sourdough muffin, I’d Marmited, and they went down extremely well! I used one of the individual Marmite pots I bought from Amazon, tasty, and just enough! Flavour rating: 8/10! 
Got the washing up done, and as expected, sleep was not forthcoming easily. Much hogwash half-watched on the TV. No nodding off and waking again tonight, though. Looking back, when I did nod off, very late in the evening, at least I slept right through for, wait for it… six-hours! 
03:45hrs: I stirred into an unwilling simulation of life, and immediately the wee-wee demands arrived. This time, I was careful in my manipulations at getting out of the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working recliner. That’s the uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner. That xyrophobia-suffering, chaetophorous, anti-epilation Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward. And he fitted new CCTC cameras, then searched for my valuables, which he found and took. (I still haven’t got all of the money back yet, nine-months later). 
New PP’s, a wash of the hands, that encapsulated my dropping the soap at least three times! Yes, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were playing up a tad already. This didn’t bode well for any physical tasks, making the meals or decent typing for today. But, you never know with my ailments, many come and go at their leisure for varying lengths of time. The important thing, was no Dizzy Dennis, Saccades Sandra, Anne Gyna, Reflux Roger, Shuddering Shoulders Shirley, Toothache Tim, Earache Eric, or Memory blanks had been of any bother, yet. Even Arthur Itis and Duodenal Donald were only playing at it this morning. The toes and feet were, of course, making up for the absence of effort from their fellow ailments. Hahaha! 
I went on Facebooking, The Troll Free Zone, then the Winwood Heights page.
I gingerly made another brew, to replace the one that had gone cold. My brain was working well again because I remembered to make and take some Macrogol powder, to tackle Constipation Conrad’s resistance to movement. 
As I went to close the thick-framed, letting-in-rain, light & view-blocking kitchen window, I thought I heard some weird grinding noise from I knew not where. I took a blind shot of Chestnut walk below, but there were no signs of anything that might have made the sound I heard? 
All done, and I am astoundingly, mind-bogglingly amazed! No, I say, No toe-stubbing, No knocking anything off of the shelves, no sock-glide battle (fair enough, I’m still not wearing socks cause of long nails), only two tiny nicks shaving, and only four dropsies. A safety record for ablutionalisationing that will never be beaten, indeed?
Got the meal prepped and served up, into the recliner, got the headphones (I’ve taped them up so I can still them, but they are not functioning properly since I sat on them and broke them. Humph). Still, better than nothing. I thought I’d coped well with the preparations and serving, and by the time I was ready to take the tray through, there were many odd bits and sploshes all over the kitchen that will need cleaning up later. Gnash-and-spit! 
02:45hrs: I woke up, and stirred with a certain reluctance. Brought about by my anxiety of what the next mistake, error, memory lapse, blank-spell or tumble will bring forth with it.
Determined not to get uptight and despondent like the last two days, I deliberated and brain-stormed in search of some positives from the situation. I surprised myself in how many I came up with. Most of the deformed, or contrived, but they made me feel a bit better, just for thinking of the silliness in most of them:
When I got in the wet room, and the flow, flowed with an amazing forcefulness for once, as opposed to the trickling efforts of the last few days. I noticed the lower right arm had gone a speckly red-orange colour? 
I washed my hands as I did so, the damned carbolic soap shot out of my palm, bounced off of the wall, and straight down in the toilet bowl! That’s the end of that then. I’ll have a ferret around in the airing cupboard later, to see if I can any soap in there. 
Into the kitchen, and took the medications, guzzled a load of the inefficacious, unfructuous, otiose Peptac to try to calm Duodenal Donald down a bit. Made a brew and opened the window to see what the odd noise was, found no cause for it, and took a photo of the morning view of the twinkling Nottingham lights.
I then had a check on the WordPress comments. Then started this blog going. 
Sister Jane and Brother in Law Pete sent me a photograph of their latest just received freebie box of fodder. (Right one doctored by yours truly, to show what they really meant. Hahaha!)
Simple enough meal. The last of my low-fat, ‘Naturally Imperfect’ oven chips were crispy and not fatty at all. The burgers were grand. The last of the piccolo tomatoes were wonderful, a Marmite and plain cheese disc were okay. 
Then settled down to watch some TV, with a certainty that sleep would surely come early tonight, after all, I was feeling mentally drained. AS long as the Thought-Storms didn’t kick-off. 
A different version of Inchcock returned to his £300, second-hand, uncomfortable, c1968, not-working rickety recliner. A sad, grumpy thing, who became sadderer, when sleep refused to come, he didn’t even have any nodding-offs. 
04:00hrs: Woke up wanting a wee-wee. Staggered up to my feet, and over to the bucket, took a WUT (Weak-Unwilling-Trickling) wee-wee. It took me a while, unwilling to start and pass as it was, it also seemed reluctant to stop as well. 
The mushrooms were put in the slow cooker on a low setting.
I had to hurry along a bit, as I was scared of missing the log-on time for the Ingeus, Zoom session. The legs looked a little pale, a contrast to how I felt, black and depressed, but couldn’t help it – it just persisted. 
I knocked a lot of things off of the floor cabinet and proceeded to take some skin off of my knuckles, bang my head a few times, and dropped the picker-upperer while trying to retrieve the items. Ashamedly, I was getting angrier with myself, and more wound-up all the time! Duodenal Donald was getting annoyed with me, as well! 
I put in the password as sent me by Ingeus and saved, with almost semi-confidence, I thought this is it, I’m getting online at last. Pillock! 
This did not last for too long, mind. Somehow or other, after a period of self-analysis, and self-criticism, I fought off much of the blackness. By resigning to the fact that I no longer wanted to be put through the torment of Ingeus’s lack of support or cold responses, and the vagaries of the Zoom sight. 
I looked into what would be a good nosh menu. I moved the mushrooms from the slow cooker to the saucepan and put some petit pois in, to cook for three minutes.
Off to the kitchen again. I made sure I had some and knew where it was stored, Maple Syrup to flavour the plain yoghourt with for later. I turned of the mushroom and peas heat.
then the evening tablets, and olive oiled the eardrums. 
Well, it’s now four hours beyond my usual head-down time.
Bless him or her! 
my condition?
Maybe, with the millions of folks at home, there was more of a demand for the lines? 
I started to watch a Kitchen Nightmare episode I’d not seen before, in between expelling oohs and argh’s in response to Donald’s refreshed activities
I made a brew, took the medications and had a look for the latest (Yesterdays only found, too early for today). 
Handwashing was done, rung and hung.
Whatta-a-farce! It suited this Klutz, come farceur Inchcock down to the ground, ideally! But at least the ablutions went differently than usual
Nothing changed. 
I washed and medicated certain delicate areas after the visit to the Throne. 
I sorted the meal prepping. Got the lamb in the oven, they are thin slices so only need twenty minutes to cook. Checked the mushrooms were cooked and added them to the can of curried beans, with a splash of hickory. By then, the meal was ready to be served up. Smashing! Taste rating, 7/10. 
From approximately midnight, I had Thought Storms aplenty. Broken by a precious few nod-offs, they were only a few minutes long, the instant I jumped awake, it was as if I had been searching in my slumber, for worries, concerns, and fears, building them up for when I woke, and the soul-destroying Brain-Storming recommenced! 
As I gained some semi-balance and was reaching for the four-pronged walking stick, and Dizzy Dennis had a go at me. (He’s not attacked me so ferociously for a while, but he made up for it this time!) I floundered and fortuitously fell back in the chair, via hitting my bum and piles on the way down against the arm. By ‘ecky-thump, I felt that! It took me a few minutes to gather myself, get over the shock, and then I tried (successfully) again to get up on my plates (feet). 
I had a quick check on the latest sad news from the virus.
The intercom rang forth, it was the Iceland delivery. It’ll or nothing innit? Haha!
Into the kitchen to do the washing up. I spotted two youths on the bottom field, a skateboarder and a cyclist, so my hackles-lifted. I’m not sure if they were rolling spliffs, cigarettes, or taking crack, but I took this decentish shot of them. When I viewed it on the camera, I realised the Saccades Sandra as playing and jumping about my focussing, shame! I used this shot as a background and made a Thoughts graphic in the morning. 
n went to get another brew.
No dogs and walkers out. 
Josie’s nosh made and delivered. A patched-up meal, kippers cause I’m out of the smoked haddock, A tipple. Josie looking well today.
While sorting the cooking, I spotted some dogs taking their owners for a walk, below in the bottom field, and took a snap of them. I clearly recall the little black poodle, I think it was, was hyperactive, and the bigger dog, the poor mite, had Arthritis and needed a little prompting from its loving owner.
Had to nip for a Throne visit, but again, it turned out a false alarm. 
A canned mixed grill, extra hickory and gravy and black beans added, along with two of the Icelands tasty beef burgers. The bread was a tad dry around the edges, but still.
A few unavailables, and substitutions, as was to be expected. Shame I ordered the mil from Iceland now, they had substituted a 1-litre with 2-litre whole milk. The only thing that I was bothered about was having no Lemon Meringue mousse, I’m getting withdrawal symptoms. Hehe!