Monday 27th January 2020
Luxembourgish: Méindeg 27 Januar 2020
I came back to life. (Well, that was a bonus to start with, Hehehe!) Felt weary, looked at the clock, which indicated to me that it was 00:25hrs. The cal to the Porcelain Throne arrived, and almost started on its own, a bit of urgent buttock-clenching, helped me get out of the £300 second-hand recliner and to the wet room, barely in time.
I don’t want to lower the tone of this honest-open-true blog any further, but I just have to mention this: It was agony! It took a lot of effort and time. And the evacuated product looked just like three hand-grenades in shape. Amazingly there was no bleeding with it at all? The soreness soon eased off, as well. If it wasn’t so crude a subject to many, I could write a book about my Porcelain Throne visits variations. Haha! Better not though!
I was soon feeling a lot perkier… alright, not so bad, then. Washed, antisepticised the contact areas, and off to the kitchen. I was feeling pleased that I did not oversleep, in fact, I’d had less sleep than for ages. (Not counting the nights when I didn’t get any, of course) And felt better now, than for many a morning, weary-wise.
I made a brew of Glenghettie tea, took the medications, and pondered on the days upcoming Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas and frustrations. (Well, they always do! Tsk!) I took a shot out of the unwanted, disliked, light & view-blocking kitchen window, with the wide ledges that stop me looking below for emergency vehicles when the fire alarm goes off, and I can hear it. Which is a rarity! No stars out that could be seen?
I went into a drawer to get a sharp knife and found Liberty-Global Virgin Media letter, why I put it in the drawer is uncertain. I recognised it immediately; only virgin media use font sizes so small they are almost unreadable, even with the reading glasses on.
They are to be working again on the upgrading of the service, on Thursday 7th February. Well, last month when they did some work, they left the service more unreliable than it was before! Hey-Ho!
I found the knife required and being as the right-hand side neurotransmitters were working reasonably well at this moment. I decided to risk getting the gigantic crock-pot back in its box, and then get the newer on out the other box. See if it fits on the counter-top, and get the stuff ready with the already copious amounts of black bags and recycling ones, made up yesterday. But waiting in for the delivery meant I couldn’t leave the flat, for taking down to the skip. Which is a prospective dangerous Whoopsiedangleplop-risk situation?
I set about my self-given tasks. It was hard work, made worse when Anne Gyna and Saccades-Sandra both started to give me some grief.
Eventually, I got the new-old massive cooker 
back in its box. There were foam sheets etc. that would not go back in, as I expected. But it is now transportable, at least. I felt rather semi-pleased with myself! Smug-Mode-Adopted!
As I was taking the new box into the kitchen to release the contents, I was, well, stunned to see the clock reading 4:10hrs! What! I hadn’t even started the bog updating yet! I decided what had happened was: I’d misread the clock on waking up. I read it as 00:25hrs, so I tried to think-out what the time actually was then. But could not work it out in my befuddled brain. I did feel a Klutz! My previously adopted Smug-Mode evaporated! I was puzzled, but that’s not unusual nowadays.
I g
ot the newest slow-cooker out of its box using the steak-knife. Good job I was in the kitchen at the time, it gave me quick access to the cold-water tap, Germolene and finger-plasters from the medical drawer nearby. Humph!
The cooker was twice the size of the original one, but a third less large as the big one. I tested the space to see if it would fit in, only just, but it did. I was planning to sort out the shelves to make more room. But with my mistiming things, I had to get on sharp[ish to do the updating of the Sunday post. (Pillock!)
The instructions and advertising bumph will have to be read and hopefully digested at a later time.
Oh, it’s a Slow Cooker and Searer? Searer? That will have to be looked up later, on Google as well! I could top-myself, but I just don’t have the time. Hahaha!
I pressed on with updating the WordPress blog. Luckily it didn’t take too long. As usual; with staying in again waiting for deliveries, I took only a few photographs. Saccades-Sandra did her best, and no doubt slowed me down somewhat.
The ablutions had to be done, and with rushing now, the risk of an Accifauxpa was high, I kept telling myself not to take risks. (Do I listen?)
The pins (legs) looked a tiny bit battered, but I’ve no idea why? However, the scrubbing-up went well today. A few dropsies, no shaving cuts, the sock-glide battle was injury-free, and it was completed without clearing the floor cabinet of things. Although the Germoloid tube had to be rescued when I went down the back of the stand. The picker-upper was handy and efficient for once. I’m so glad I bought another one now, this one for the wet room, and the other one for the rest of the flat. I’ve also got one in the kitchen, it is a cheap one, and not much use, anything small, or above 4oz cannot be grabbed! I’m waffling again, Sorry!
I took some bags to the waste chute, and the workers doing the fire-sprinkler system were working in the lift lobby, they had stuff laying about, and kindly took the bags from me, and chuted them. Kind of them. We had a natter and laugh.
Back to the flat, I got readied and made my way down, though the link-passage, and to the ILC’s Interrogation and Body-Searching Office in Winwood Court. Hehehe!
Here, a lingering unsolved mystery was clarified by Obergruppenführeresses Desk-top Dancer & Warden Deana. When I woke to find the things in the hallway the other day, and the light in the hall, I had no idea what had happened, but I just knew someone had been in. Well, Deana told me that Jenny and Josie had been concerned at not seeing me for a while, and Jenny had come to check on me. Found me asleep, checked I was breathing, and was alright, and left me to it. Now that was indicative of that lady – so kind of her. Thanks, Jenny ♥!
I offered the nibbles around and explained how the night was, and my sleeping pattern was all gone to pot and why. That brought a yawn from her! Hahaha! We had a little gossip between the four of us, and I left.
As I met Angela and Roy in the foyer, I greeted them, and almost walked into the desk? That was when I realised that I had on the reading glasses! So I had to go back to Woodthorpe Court, to get the bifocals on. Then a bit of rush to get back down again in time to catch the bus.
I got through to Winchester Court and handed some nibbles out to a few residents waiting for the bus, and had a mini-chinwag and laugh. The bus arrived, and out we all hastened. I felt something was wrong, not right as I went to get on the bus… Ah, that’s it, it wasn’t raining!
I dropped of the bus near the old Palligh de Dance, and walked over the two sets of pelican crossing lights needed, to get to Glasshouse Street.
I got to the Aldi shop, to get banged into, shoulder charged and got a shopping-trolley over my foot, then back to Parliament Street and to the Poundshop store.No injuries, but a few tut-tuts at the self-serve checkout, the assistant noticed me struggling a bit, and did the job for me. Bless her.
This below is a picture I took, mainly to try and get the same area as the second picture, from when the Victoria Centre was being built. I couldn’t get the right angle, cause that would have meant me going in the middle of the road… Too Risky! Haha!
The tale in pictures, from getting off of the bus, and going to the Poundshop.
Glasshouse Street. This one is interesting, I thought it deserved its own photo. Where they were busy demolishing some, and building or converting other premises, mostly for extra student accommodation, some Grafittists had broken into the compound to do their thing. Before the mortar-mix had dried properly!
It looked unfinished to me, so they might return to finish it off again. It might not be the best artwork, well it isn’t, but you can’t fault them at their keenest to get at the wall! Tsk!
I came out of the Poundland shop and decided I had the time to walk along, taking some more photographicalisations. This was taken down Clumber Street, I was getting some rum looks from the Nottinghamians, that indicated their disapproval of my actions. Oh, dear!
So I took another, zoomed-in this time. Amidst the cheerless faces, and further looks of derision, I even got the evil-eye from one of Nottingham’s rarest people, a policeman!
Ah, well, yer can’t please em all!
I poddled along, quietly contented in my own fashion. I even tried to whistle, but the hole left by my last tooth abstraction made it hard work. Which shows how long it is since I decided to whistle blithely! Sad innit!
Then I saw the bus-jam going down King Street. 
Other buses needing access had joined the queue by the time I got to the corner. Where it became plain what the problem was, the dreaded roadworks! How the bus drivers get through in this conglomeration of obstacles, amazes me.
At the top of Queen Street, the view with the sky perfect for photographicalisationing was an amazingly good opportunity for a moody photo to be taken. Thankfully it came out decent enough to use. I checked on the camera screen and spotted another traffic problem.
I also noticed that there were no buses at any of the stops on Queen Street! This had never happened before. Someone had gotten hold of the driver of the lorry parked at the bottom apex, that was stopping buses getting by. He moved it, as shown in this picture, and they were still struggling to get through, and traffic came to a grinding halt again! This is going to cause a headache for the bus drivers and passengers awaiting them further along the route. All created, by one desperate poor old delivery driver, and roadworks.
Surprisingly, the L9 bus was on time? (Beats me how he did it, brilliant!) I was the sole passenger until two bus stops later. No Winwoodonians were picked up en route, but I got out the crossword book. I got a couple of old clues as well. Swank-Mode-Engaged!
I got off the bus and had a quick hello with some tenants getting on the bus, and accepted their snides, insults and put-downs in good spirit.
I didn’t meet anyone on the trip through the Winchester link-passage, the New Winwood Social room, the Winwood Foyer, the Woodthorpe court link-passage, and into Woodthorpee’s lift foyer. A notice advertising a residents meeting for Wednesday 5th February was on the notice board in the grungy, drab, dark lobby.
Up in the elevator and into the flat. No wee-wee called for? I got the purchasers put away. Aldi: Sourdough baguettes, Cox’s apples, vanilla dessert, chestnut mushrooms, Frikadellens, lemon yoghourts, Cheese(plastic)-topped cobs and four cans of ring-pull opening garden peas. Then the Poundland: Pork Farms Pork Pie (Yes, I weakened again!), Dettol disinfectants, Nibble bag gold bars, and a packet of lemon flavoured chocolate digestive biscuits Another weakness!
Warmed the garden peas, got two cheesy cobs buttered, sliced an apple, put some mini pork and pickle pies cut in half on the plate. Got down and tucked into the meal, but I’d again overdone it.
The weariness dawned on me even earlier today.
Most of it ended up in the bin. It helped me to eat less, by my nodding off while eating it!
Waking up, an hour or so later, with my over-abundant wobbly belly and the chair being covered with garden-peas, half a buttered cob, and streaks of caramelised red onion chutney did not go down well at all! The cleaning the mess up was done with deep-lying self-flagellation, and a toe-stubbing, as it was now dark and the Ottoman highjacked me as I was getting the walking stick. Humph! What a Yolop!
I’m showing an incredible amount of aboulia-abulia lately! And, dysphoria, self-contempt, and once again, depression. Still, it’s deserved.
After sorting out the state of the place without any further injuries, I got settled once again. But the events had started the Mind-Thought-Storming. so it was a long time before I could nod-off.
When I drifted away, a dream began. For some reason, even during the dream, I thought ‘I’ve dreamt this years ago’? Yet the images felt so real. Driving my old Subaru Justy, and getting lost, in a right pickle. Towards the end of the nightmare, I was on a motorway, and the exits disappeared as I approached them… can’t recall if got off or not! Hoggledruids!
Bloody as well, but far less messy. You can’t win ’em all, Haha! 
As I left to go to the kitchen, the shaking started from the neurotransmitter transmissions failing. At least as of now, this is very often for a short time only. When I got in, I decided to get the handwashing done first thing. Thus giving me more time if needed, when getting Josies Sunday meal prepared in time. 
I got the meal all prepped, and onto the serving trolley. 
I went to make a brew and had to turn on the light in the kitchen. It had suddenly gone so dark, and the rain was starting to fall. I suppose this might mean the cooker is coming later than forecast. 
23:55hrs: Another flipping disturbed sleep. The constant dreams! It peeves me so that I cannot recall much of them. Other than they all involved my working days happenings, cock-ups, mistakes etc. were relived, but with a different outcome… I think. When I had to get up (yet again) to go for a wee-wee, (They were all of the LHNPOS (Long-Hosepipelike-No-Pain-Or-Sensation) variety, I decided I might as well stay up. 
I got the stick and went to the kitchen, to take the medications and make a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea. 
No apologies from Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Nottingham NG5 2DA, (Near the Lidl Store). And to think, that ‘Yell’ (Yellow Pages) on the web, class the
I began this post off. Then went to open the Crock-pot box. It was ginormous! Far too big for me to use. A family size one, for sure. 
I got the nosh finished, served up, and tucked into. The black bean sauce weakened the chilli flavour, which suited me down to the ground. I blame Morrison’s, for substituting my curry beans with the Chilli ones! 
After eating, I decided I had better get the washing up done. Maybe to assuage my guilt with the Crock-Pot farce? When the pot-cleaning was done, I lifted the bowl to tip out the water so as to wipe it dry… Within seconds I had, soapy wet jammies and socks, the cabinets had running suds down them, the floor was awash, and all due to an involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance from the right leg! To add to the misery, I kicked the four-pronged walking stick over, and the handle part fell on my left foot corn! Somehow, I knew that this incident was not what EQ was warning me about! That is to be revealed, yet, if at all.
The Throne session was not a good one. Massive, slow and messy with a surprising amount of discomfort. At least it gave me a chance to have a go at the crossword. It was painful when I stood up after so long sat with bent knees. Arthur Itis wasn’t happy about it at all. I recalled bits of a horrible dream I’d had, a bully of a shop manager kept throwing me out, and threatening me with the sack?
A clean-up, and off to the kitchen. I got the kettle on and took the medications. 
The fingers were tingling and a tad annoying. 
And then… I only need the Porcelain Throne again! Arthur Itis is now as mad as he has ever been with me. This is not good! And I have to keep getting up for a wee-wee! They were all, up to now, of the PLSE (Persistent-Long-Spraying-Everywhere) style! Which some else to fret about, I just cannot control the evacuations at all. Just keep kitchen towels and disinfectant nearby to use, and a tube of Phorpain gel 
for Arthur’s knees. I think it’s fair to say, a modicum of depression is building up! The pins (legs) looked the same pot-mark-wise as earlier, but they seem to be getting a smidge more colour? Just a couple of more blood-papules. I’ll recheck them after the ablutions are done, this is a rarity! Hahaha! 
I had to absquatulate for a wee-wee, this was a bit different, of the SSP (Short-Sharp-Painful) style. I got the grey bucket emptied, rinsed and sanitised, and decided to get the handwashing done. Going to be a slow job getting the jammie-bottoms dry. The socks and long-sleeve t-shirt will be okay, being thinner.
I took the black, and recycling bags down to Caretaker Stewart room. We shared some Rabelaisian humour, handed over the nibbles, and then returned to the flat, and checked to see how far on the Tracker had gone. Perhaps he’s having his dinner? The driver who is taking it to the dispatch place, I wonder where that is? Bit it is still hours away from there, then someone has to come to Nottingham with the stuff. It’s going to be hard to stay awake. Oh, dearie me! Dangwangles and damn!
his work. Ahem! 
bigger) leg.
–
Off to the wet room. A messy affair in the extreme, a struggle to get started, a lot of product, pain and some bleeding from Harold’s Haemorrhoids. But I’ve had worse, so coped well. 
I got back to the kitchen and checked the spuds and mushrooms, and put them on the keep warm setting.
Got the nosh sorted. Another changed decision. I had the chicken thighs I’d nearly forgotten about. Not a bad meal, but I was too tired to appreciate it fully. Flavour-rating; 6/10. 
. Well, no TV tonight then. I tried the radio channels, but they were cracking mumblings or broken singing/music. Ah-well! 
22:25hrs: I stirred, in somewhat of a bit of a puddled state. I thought I had only been asleep for a few minutes, I got the spectacles on and found I’d kipped for about four hours or so. I withdrew my excessively overweight, lardy-stomached body from the £300, grotty, second-hand, c1968 recliner. 
I grabbed the walking stick, and within three paces on my journey to the Porcelain Throne, I stubbed my toe on the hearth of the electric fire! As I was busy absorbing the pain and trying not to swear out loud, the ‘Hum’ became more and more noticeable and loud! Grangle-Grumps and Hoggledruids! That put an end to my plan to get my head back down after the evacuation, I was physically more awake now, at least! Haha!
I put the kettle on and moved the handwashing to above the heater. Then I realised I’d not taken the evening medications. So I did. 
a physical impossibility for someone of my plump stature, lack-of-height, physical limitations, ailments and old age, and I cannot get to see out and down, through these hideously-designed windows, like the old ones that we were happy with. That was before the two-year plus, two-million pound plus modernisation. That has left me with dangerous electrical sockets. Ruined carpets. New storage heaters Einstein would not understand how to use! That crumbling new balcony that the glass fogs up to block the view, windows in it that need a masters degree, the strength of Goliath and a first-aid-box at the ready before I dare try to open them! Hello, I wandered of the subject again. Sorry! 
Meeting up with Jenny ♥ and Frank, Doris, Margaret, Christine, Betty, Penny, Welsh William (who ignored me in his usual casual, but expert fashion), and some other Winwoodonians. We moved out to the bus stop, and much laughter, accusations, griping, verbal-sniping, insults, gossiping, put-downs, argle-bargle, and putting the world to rights was done and I enjoyed hearing it all. By gum, some days like today, it is a pleasure and honour to listen to the gang when they are in full verbalistical flow. I love it! 
annoyance at me. She gave me a card and stapled the time and date to it. Telling me that if I can’t get at that time, I’ve to ring ASAP the number on the card and inform them. I thanked her. 
I then spotted the piece of Nottinghamnian Street Art, beneath the cashpoint (ATM). Possibly an Alcoholic inspired display of an overrated takeaway meal? Tsk!
was nice to see him after so long. The girls at the flats have certainly missed him. This photo was taken a few years ago. In the temporary social and wardens cabin. Happy times, but it makes me realise how much I missed seeing Jenny and Cyndy every week. Hehe! We don’t go to the new Thursday social now. I wandered off the subject a bit there! John said he’d call on me later on. But he said that fourteen months ago when I met him in Carrington. It doesn’t matter though, he’s a popular and busy bloke, who’s helped me out so many times in the past. 
I popped into the shop, with the help again of Big John, who held the door open for me to get the three-wheeled walker-guide through the narrow doorway, bless him. 
Out and made my way up to the bus stop, across the pelican lights to the top of the hill. I have to say; I was in much better condition by then. The only ailment still giving me bother Dizzy Dennis, but, nowhere near as bad as earlier, hardly bothering me really, but the fact that he was still there, boded poorly for the evening. He is usually in the face or no there at all; he doesn’t often hang on like this. But hey-ho, I can cope with it if he doesn’t start spinning me. Like Prince Andrew, No sweat! Humorous, biting sarcasm sneaked in there! Hahaha! 
I got in the apartment and tried to concentrate the mind on what needed doing. The first thing was, I got the computer on and added the Banks appointment to the calendar. No excuse to miss it now! 
What an ambrosial feast! 
I stayed in the chair, wallowing in a sort of satisfied, happy stomached self-contentedness for ages, then forced myself to go and get the pots washed. 
I got the medications taken, pleased to see that I had not missed last evenings doses. Humph! And what an unreliable memoried Shlub I am! As usual, the ‘Hum’ was loud, with the odd tap-tap and gurgling noise. (Thrown in every now and then, up until 0500hrs?) Why, where from, what was making these noises, remains part of the mysteries of my beloved Woodthorpe Court, that lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of space & the universal continuum, offering illusions, delusions, & hallucinations. Exasperated sigh! I made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, no sooner made, than the call to the Porcelain Throne arrived. Off to the wet-room, I shuffled, and still feeling in good nick, physically. 
I eventually got the blog done and posted off. I made another brew, this time Glenghetti, and ‘blow-me-down-with-a-feather-duster’, I needed the Throne again! All went well as the first visit did. I had time to check-out the pins (legs) and took a photo. Apart from being different sizes to each other again, they looked good to me, apart from the veins.
I had a look outside and photographed what looked like smoke from a fire in the dark. I took regular pictures for the next few hours of the City Hospital and area smoke. I’ve put them all here o the right, earliest shots down to the last one. 
Aha! The intercom rang and flashed. 
I never got around to doing any graphics in the end. Too drained now. I put the handwashing in the bowl to soak and got a meal prepared. 
I got the handwashing done, wrung and hung. 
I fumbled to find Little Inchy (it was cold this morning, so much so, I put the wall heater on in the wet room!), and spent a few minutes painfully releasing the long, drawn-out trickle! At last, it decided to stop! What’s going on here then? The entire wee-wee would have only filled a teacup if that! Yet, the sensation felt was one that things were going to burst forth like fireman’s hose. Ah, well!
I got everything cleaned and medicated, checked out the legs. They had undoubtedly lost a lot of colour and were getting back to their usual ‘Am-I-alive’ thought-prompting paleness. One leg, the left, seemed even whiter than the right one? The lumps, blotches, blood papules etc. had dissipated somewhat? Still, it makes for a bit of interest, doesn’t it?
I made up a photo, to show how I must have looked after I somehow or other, got the wet dressing gown to fall on me off of the coat-hangar it was drying on! I used it in the Sunday blog, but I show it again. 
Had to have a nibble and brew. I’ll have a hunt around, see worra can find… 
After the farewells and they had gone, and my balance had returned, I went to have a look at the work they’d done for me. 
I got off the bus at the terminus on Queen Street. Still feeling a bit high in spirits. (Yes, it worried me as well!) 
I paid at the self-serve tills. They were busy for a Monday, and the ‘Impatient stares’, Tut-tutting and grinding teeth from those behind me in the queue could be sensed, as I fumbled a bit. 
A lady assistant came to me in the end and whipped the last things through for me. Out and had a walk on the Slab Square. This gathering flock of pigeons. I could not see any food on the ground around them, though? The white ones could hardly be identified with the sunshine glinting 
on the settled rainwater.
Nottinghamians, that there was little smiling! 
s morning. 
I got distracted there again, sorry about that. 
I made my way up Queen Street, showing the long shadows of the citizenry in this snap. 
We were soon back at the flats, and I walked with Penny back through the link-passage to Woodthorpe Court, having a little chinwag en route. 
Got the meal planned, then I shifted the Morrison bananas from last week, from the cool spot to a warmer one. For they were still green! 
I got some chips into the oven, the last of the Kentucky coated ones. 
Then moved some things back into the cupboard under the sink. 
Then got the meal served up. The BLT Poundland sarnie and cut up a mini pork pie and added caramelised onion chutney, beetroots and some BBQ thingies on cocktail sticks. 
I got going on a funny ode that came to mind from nowhere. The incident dates back a few months. I was in town on South Parade, the rain took a nasty turn for the worse, and the heavens opened. I joined some others under the cover of the Starbucks coffee shop doorway. I was asked to move as my trolley was blocking peoples access, so, no problem, I hobbled away into the rain. I got the task done, with doing the graphics, it took me over three hours to get it something like right.
I started the Back-Pain-Brenda annoying task of emptying out the shelves under the sink, in readiness for tomorrows visit from the Nottingham City Homes plumber. But didn’t get very far, for two reasons, the agony from Brenda, and the clump on the chin I’d given myself bending down to get to the cleaning stuff! Hahaha, what a clot! 
Josie’s nosh was served up, and the dishes put in the sink to soak. Making the red Leicester cheesy-mashed-potatoes don’t-half make a mess of the mixing bowl, fork and spoon used! Onto the wheeled server, and out of the door, two paces and I was ringing her bells. (Hehehe!) We had a little natter, and she handed me a tray of leaf-salad, as a thank you.
The plastic and metal new ticker fitted. Duodenal Donald. Cancer of the bladder and prostate. Reflux Roger. Kidney Kevin. Arthur Itis. Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Saccades Sandra, then the stroke; 
As I got in the foyer, I spotted that someone had been ornamentalisationing! A bit of decoration for us! I made sure that I did not go near the edge of the ledge, cut of but not painted shelf and pottery. 
over and broken! Tsk! Very pretty and easy on the eye, I thought. 
I took the medications, with an extra Codeine 30g, to counter Brenda’s bother. And reviewed the fodder situation. I was beginning to fade fast, and opted for a simple meal of rice and garden peas, with BBQ seasoning added. Which was not scintillating, but sufficient, considering the amount of food I’ve thrown away due to making the meals too large, was more than enough. Taste-rating; 7/10. 
23:30hrs: I have never woken-up so non-plussed, discountenanced, and feeling so wish-washy before in my life! (No… I tell a fib, when I came round after the heart operation it was worse!) 
I rose from the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner. The one that xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward, and he fitted new CCTC cameras and searched for my valuables, which he found and took. Then posted off his pools coupon and won a fortune, that complimented his £2010 grand Lottery win. He retired at 40, the windfall of being left £84,000 by an unknown relative enabled this. He’s a lucky lad. 