– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – The memories recalled, but only just, I think it may have been 1972, in August… I met and was mauled by an anaesthesiologist, Stabbed by an acupuncturist. This year, I was robbed by an oligarchist, Who goes by the name of Starmer! Known as the proletariat’s financial amputator, His first job as PM put pensioners asunder, Raised taxes for every farmer, Who accepted far too many a backhander… He is still the Labour leader, Money from anywhere he can acquire, To his many wrongs, he’s not a conceder, Because he is such an arrogant bleeder… A perfect match to be a Tory Prime Minister, He’s although blunt, he’s a clever circumventor… Lies directly, by omission, a fibbing blatherer, I bet he’s never been a TV renter, Cause self-wealth is at his centre… Working persons new tax inventor, Bet he gets a free haircut from his barber! His taxes put an end to improving agriculture, He’s just like a greedy vulture! His ruthlessness gives me acroparesthesia, It’s like he got into power with tabula nasa, Apart from filling his bank account whenever, To morals & sympathy, he is a denyer, I wonder if his stockings are 15 denier? I doubt his calculations, cogitation, & dedication… I wonder at times if he is just an apparition… Sent by Putin, to do our economy in? Or maybe a Right-Wing Martian? He’s certainly caused political confusion, Are, to Keir, old labour values an illusion? Voters want action with anti-depression, Not an HMG leader like an automaton! It could all end with a revolution! Maybe it can be stopped by a coalition, But he doesn’t need my permission… But he can have my commiseration, HMG UK is leading to deterioration, Sooner the better, for the voting disillusioned That Starmer is toppled & decommissioned!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Ah, a bit better colour!
Terrible photo!
Waste bags condensed.
Evening mug of Glengettie tea.
Blue evening views
Four big cob sarnies. But they were too big for me to manage. Waste not, want not; I bagged them, put them in the fridge, and ate them on Saturday. They were pork loin with robust cheddar cheese, no-butter butter, sliced tomatoes, and chestnuts. No finger cuts were sustained.
Got more photos saved to go on tonight! Smug-Mode-Adopted!
Note the deliberate spelling mistake? Ahem!
Gawd, I hate Starmer!
I don’t think I’m on my own.
A large rise in cases percentage-wise!
I did a bit of research later for the odd below above!
All was normal here.
Slightly darker this morning.
My morning shots are getting atrocious!
Yesterday, I, Sherlock Holmesianly, searched for the signs of which houses are growing Cannabis in their lofts. Today, it became apparent. Hehehe!
I’m unsure how I did it, but I got the battery-powered can opener to work!
Snowgoinger! Haha!
No TV. No landline phone. No Panic Alarm Working. NO INTERNET! For 5+ hours. Still, as long as the owners of Virgin, Liberty-Global, keep paying their CEO a phenomenal salary. Indeed, they will remain the supreme, cunning, lying Oligarchs they are. Trying to cancel their service, with their clause making us pay £100s to do so, requires someone with the following skills and can afford a barrister, a mathematician, & Einsteinian genius. If one does escape their financial and incapable service, one may try EE, 3, Vodafone, BT, UPC Broadband, 02, ITV plc, or Sirius—all of which Liberty-Global either owns or has investments in! We can’t win!. But Liberty-Global Always Do! (Spit!)
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I’d like to relate a little anecdotage, I’m losing my grip on life in my dotage! My financial situation can be called in arrearage,
The medics can’t mend my wee wee appendage!
I have no willpower, respect or appanage, So, I consulted a Sherwood archaeologist… He dismissed me as being human sullage, He checked on my lineage, Suggested I go live in a hermitage, Although a wizard, he was more like a hucksterage, My nerve rash started getting blotchier, He said: I know what’s up with yer…, Like many old farts, you’re angry at Starmer! Yer blood’s boiling at Keir and your bank manager, There’s no one at home to give you a blether, And look at the state of the bloody weather! I can see yer at the end of your tether… Yer cookers’ broke, standing in yer corridor… Can’t cook or pissed, you’ve lost your composure, Problems with your heating & the computer, Cancer, Renauds, toothache & painful catheter, Starmer, Rachel Reeves, the HMG chancellor, Yer feelin’ sorry for yersen, yer silly old dodderer! Doreen Dementia depresses yer, The solution is available for you, For £500, I’ll reveal what it is, too! Go home and think it over, and come back Tuesday at two. So I went back all punctual, expecting a natter and brew… They told me he’d died last night on the loo! More dreams like this, & I don’t know what I’ll do! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – -.
I was up at 04:00hrs to give myself plenty of time to shower, shave, and complete another visit to the Porcelain Throne in time for food delivery from Ocado. A Trotsky Terence controlled evacuation, and all over within 20 seconds of getting my tight little bottie settled on the plastic WC seat. Splush… all done! This ablution session took me over two hours, which was nothing unusual. I was all done abluting and started to get the medicationalisationings done. Unfortunately, after yesterday and the five nurses’ attempts to get the tube back in the bladder via poor little Inchie, He was very delicate this morning. So, ointmentating the fungal lesion was even more painful than ever. It brought tears to my eyes! But I got that done, and then I Phorpain gelled the cartilages of Chloe and Carole. Then, I did Arthur Itis’s left and right patellas with the same gel. Olive oiled the ears, put the Blepha gel in the left eye, and Chloramphenicol drops into the right eye. (Well, most of it ended up down my chest and on the floor!)
I got some Germolid ointment on my bottie to help soothe Harold’s Haemorrhoids. Always a pleasure doing that. Then, the Acne & Excema medications are under and on the arms, the flabby drooping belly, the head, and the neck. Yes, it’s spreading again! Next, congestion relief was sprayed onto the nasal area, and the Anti-Bleed swabbed when that cleared. The Nozohaem was kept handy, but it was not required. Then, a miracle occurred! I could not understand why it was so easy this morning, but I still felt smug when I put on the fresh Protection Pants, pulled them up, and adjusted them without catching the catheter netting or anything—in less time than it took me to take the old ones off! Brilliant! I still can’t believe it myself! Did I dream it or have a mini-seizure?
I cleaned up the wet room, took the waste bag and the used catheter bag to make up a larger one, and saw it was only 06:10 hrs! I’d done all that in just over two hours. But, being me, doubts lingered that I may have got the starting time or waking up time wrong. This took the edge off of my temporary period of almost glee and pride.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – COMPUTER NOT UP TO SCRATCH TODAY I took this snap just before going to the wet room. You can’t see the snow in this one, but it’s stubbornly time-melting.
Very sad about all the photos I took, I can tell you! Heartbreaking.
I’ve lost the compunction… is that the right word? I’ll look it up… No that’s the wrong word altogether. I’ve lost interest in even trying to get this blog done. It’s already gone 20:00hrs, and I’m only up to here with it. I keep trying to get the photos on, but it takes so long using the Ccleaner that my pride and heart are not in it. For the first time ever as well. Still, it’s been a busy day again, interruptions, mistakes and the damned mini-seizures. I had a lot of them today, two when one carer was here and another with a different carer. I’m fuddled.
There was a mammoth cock-up again with the food orders. I would have sworn that I made one order for today and another with a different shop for next Wednesday. First, the Ocado delivery arrived. Then, this evening, the Tesco order arrived! No photos can be saved again, yet it let me do these above, then died on me again.
The computer let me upload these tonight, and later it saved them. Huh!
I think technology, ill health, mental & physical are getting too much for me.
Half of what took place needn’t have bothered me. I know that I had a carer doing the financial checks today, but who it was and two mini-seizures during the visit have left me well-baffled.
I’ve just run my neighbour and Angel of Mercy Jenny. I ordered cream cakes next Wednesday, and I now have two boxes. Her hubby, my mate Frank, kindly came up to collect them, along with a few bits that I would never eat, and they were short-dated. So, at least they have not been wasted and got to where they were intended for. I’d be lost without Jenny & Frank.
Sorry, but I’ve had enough today.
I’ll see how things go in the morning.
Fingers crossed.
I’ll make something to eat. I might even photograph it… but will the computer allow me to file it, or even load them?
Feeling dejected, that was the word!
Hope to see you in the morning.
Well, it’s evening now on Thursday.
But I did get some photos saved.
The 2nd delivery
I am a fool!
Tomatoes, potatoes, chestnuts, and chestnuts, with two really-filled ham rolls, with no-butter butter, & a dab of Marmite.
The potatoes were not very good.
Evening all! The snow melting. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFN & Have a great day!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Some words meanings I cannot muster, Who invented the blockbuster? A film, a book, why the buster? Why a block? But it doesn’t matter… Words that are far less a mind-bender, Suited to describe a megalosaur… It ideally matches the skills of Starmer… Those words are a bullying-bullshitter, He probably suffers from micropsia, His decisions are self-centred & macabre, His cabinet is something of a bricoleur,
He appears to be something of a bereaver,
They consider him their saviour, malefactor,
He’s like Thatcher, a determined tax-raiser,
He lies, by omission, the little meshuggener,
Taking freebies and many a backhander,
History will recall him as the Pensioner-Mugger,
A closet Brexiter,
A lousy, inhumane budgeter,
Being ballsier, but also barmier,
Contributors made his wealth grow bigger,
He knows he’s hated but doesn’t bother, He hates plebeians; he’s a political blagger, Rumour has it he wears a brassiere, I see or hear him, and life gets mangier, Life’s prospects get lower, mankier, Starmer, the pensioner’s mortifier! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 03:00hrs: I girded my loins as I woke up, stretched my rippling muscles, and started yodelling as I began my morning press-ups and squats and did fifteen minutes of shadow boxing. Alright, if yer want the truth, then… 06:15hrs: I stirred reluctantly to allow a mega-bast of wind to escape from my rear end. I removed the far-to-red coloured nocturnal pouch from the day catheter and mused briefly about yesterday’s various mistakes, cock-ups and all three of them, to me, disasters.
I grabbed , and went the kitchen to get the kettle on to satisfy my urge for a mug of Glengettie tea. Then, I spotted the hard-to-miss snow covering the view from the window. After a while, I returned to the front bedroom and found the Kodak Camera. Back to the kitchenette and took these photographicalisations. Each car park area is on Citrus Way in front of the apartment building. I rushed as it was darned cold out there.
When I got to the kitchen, I decided it was in a very untidy mess and needed tending to. I started by sorting out the waste bin bags into one and placing it near the front door to the rubbish chute later on.
I got distracted by the innards’ alert messages, which suggested that I should get to the Porcelain Throne as soon as possible—which I did! Only just in time, mind you; it was another close call. But they are much better than being embarrassed by any premature escapages. I’ve had a few of them lately! Humph! Today, not the usual one visit, but four! All in the same mode… Splurty!
Finally, I made a brew of Glengettie. I then proceeded to the computer to start blogging… dropping the mug of Glengettie en route! MISTAKE AFTER MISTAKE! You would not believe the things that needed doing, which I’ve been doing every day for the last three years on the blog, and they were tackled during Mind-Blanks and several Mini-Seizures. What a pickle I got myself into.
Carer Chloe, I think, arrived a little later. The diabetic socks were not put on cause I thought I’d have to get the blog caught up and would not be able to take them off to get a shower. Naturally, this did not work out; with all the time needed to correct and amend things, I’d cocked up.
Carer Sam arrived as I’d just taken some more snow photos.
No snow was falling now. The blue hue from the sky seemed to light all below.
Sam was going to put the socks on for me, but I thanked her and declined. I’ll have to have a shave and shower tonight or in the morning if I get up early enough and can make the time. I need two hours minimum, and the Ocado order is supposed to arrive between 06:00 and 07:00 hrs. It’s best to do it later tonight. If that is, I don’t leave the hot water tap running. Tsk!
The mini-seizures increased as the afternoon went on. At least I didn’t have much time to cock-up again. But I had to keep checking after each session.
THE SNOW BEGINS TO GO
The brown and red trees seem to be ridding themselves of the snow quicker than the other ones? I think it may be because they had thinner branches, and any wind may knock off the snow? No idea what I’m on about, really.
Nothing new there!
Another summoning to the Porcelain Throne, Trotsky Terence, was still in control.
I’m struggling with getting the photos saved to file again. I’m going to give up and get summat to eat. I doubt if I bother taking a snap of the meal; it will make it onto here. I took this snap from the kitchenette window before prepping the daily nosh. I’m missing my stove and oven already. No chips, no lamburgers… I’ve given them away so someone else can try and enjoy them. Last week, when the oven gave up the ghost, I tried cooking them in the air fryer, but they didn’t come out well.
Well, the food photo was saved right in the morning. And the two shots I took of the evening skies went on! I made three cheesy cobs, no-butter buttered them. I added a splodge of Marmite on each roll, then German Bavarian smoked ham slices. I also added sweet pickled baby beetroots and halved mini Dutch tomatoes, slightly salted.
I settled into the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV and eat the meal.
Washing the pots later, I took another picture of the night sky.
I was pleased with how this one came out. I did a bit of apophenialising with this shot. The seemingly baby ghost clouds escaping the clutches of the dying sunset glow on the horizon. Hehehe!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – WHAT A START! MIND YOU THE MIDDLE & END WERE NOWT TO SHOUT ABOUT I stirred around 05:30hrs, after another disturbing jumping and shooting awake imitation night’s sleep in bed. The nocturnal catheter pouch was the brownest it’s been for a while. Carer Richard confirmed it as seven on the NHS colour-rating scale card. I was not in good nick this morning, but nothing seemed worse than any other ailment.
I started updating Sunday’s post. As I was about to post it, I got emails and messages from the bank about the payment for my new Tesco account order not being paid. I thought I’d coped well with setting up an account with them. Over the next few hours, I received more emails and messages from Tesco and the bank. Obviously, I had done something wrong somewhere. I struggled to get the bank to pay for my Tesco order. A carer tried, the first nurse tried, and then I rang Deana for help. I had eight different passwords come in, and none worked. Five emails from Tesco and three more from the bank. But I could not work out what I’d done wrong, although it was apparent that I’d done something wrong. Another nurse worked it out for me – I’d put the wrong telephone number as I registered with Tesco. I’d put the landline instead of mobile – what a clot and farce that was. Then, I rang Deana to say it was sorted; I’m so glad the nurses came today.
However, I still did not grasp what I had done wrong in the process for a while.
THE NURSE’S VISITS: A nurse called on me (Thank heavens) this morning to replace my Catheter. But she could not get it to go back in. After a phone call for assistance, another nurse arrived to help. An hour later, it was still not back in. They called for an ambulance but were told no non-emergency ambulances were available. So they departed, saying, just like Arnie said in the film, did, “I’ll be back!”
Three nurses arrived later! They got the Catheter painfully for me and sorted it around 20 minutes later. They were in a rush; they had a lot more Catheter-ridden old farts to visit. I said I was sorry to bother them, gave them some nibbles and drinkies of their choice, and was told to ring if there were any problems later. (None yet) I think this is why I did not post the blog properly. Jenny sent me an email as I checked those from Tesco and the bank and posted off Saturday’s blog. Then sent a message to Jenny; “I hope it’s gone through now, Jenny. ♥” Explaining the day I’d had as an excuse for the cock-ups that I’d made already. Hehehe!
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First photographs.
Second photographs.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – THE BEDThe torture bed, where things got badder… Four tries to get the tube back into the bladder, It felt like I was being mauled by a barracuda, Blood came from the fungal lesion’s ulcer, I sang to make the pain easier… Gene Pitney’s 24-hours from Tulsa, I thought one nurse was the Grim Reaper, undercover, My howling was like a documentary voiceover, My voice recording could be used in Dracula! Each nurse got annoyed at each failure… One suggested taking my temperature, Their kind efforts did not waiver, In the NHS, I became a believer,
Each nurse was a wallflower with power,
As they worked out how to grab my waggler,
Which was getting smaller and wrinklier,
On the 6th attempt, I sensed they were getting tireder,
My bladder was getting fuller & fuller,
On the 7th, they epitomised womanpower,
Their attitude to me was pure exemplar,
These Angels were so patient and avuncular,
As soon as they’d won, I had gastrectasia…
Telling me to stay in bed for a while, to recover,
The tube reconnected in my tallywhacker…
I was already feeling so much better,
I told each one I loved her!
Nibbles & a drinkies of their choice, I did offer,
I thanked them all for being so spectacular! ♥ – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – All in, up and running again! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Tonight’s ready-made meal. I plan to have some tomatoes and beef sarnies with it.
Back in the morning… I hope! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Good Morning! Carer Promise arrived on his last call and took photos of the snow falling from the balcony. Then the lad attached the night pouch to the Catheter, which leaked all over the floor! So I was freezing from him letting the cold into the room, wet, and I had the job of cleaning up the leaked urine, wee’d on legs and slipper! And all I wanted to do was to get some sleep!
Still, it gave him a laugh. Hehe!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFN each, Joy & Happiness to you All!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – So. I’ve got recurrent aphthous stomatitis, Glaucoma Gladys; Eyesight out of focus, The return of pain from Toothache Tiffany, Peripheral Pete is acting somewhat oddly, Up in the sky is a whopping cumulonimbus! Years ago, I was libidinous and lascivious, Now, I move ornamentally, & act sentimentally, I often act like a schoolteacher sumpsimus. I don’t mean to act so obnoxious, My toes and feet turned white & xanthous, Many things make me worried and anxious, How can mortals beat off the oligarchy? They rule, from wars, they make more money! Proletariats, innocents survive quixotically… Politicians live life quintessentially, We vote for MPs who we think, essentially, Will do the job least damagingly… In return, 26 taxes go up, regretfully, Starmer gives pensioners a financial raspberry! Commoners hate… his MPs show him ambivalence! He may be vacillatious, the voters are unfelicitous, A backhand-taker, give him a certificate, Did God permit this animal to rule us? With his lies & constant obscurantist blatherskite! Lies is another word spoken in omission, But we’ll see him consider any admission, As he agrees to send more ammunition… Compassion to him is an apparition, Of course, some eye him with a different complexion, Would never give him any condemnation, They’ll be part of some financial conglomeration! Overseas investment, banks denying the crucifixion. Fair enough, I’m still awaiting confirmation… What’s he done? My conclusion is he causes confusion, His manner & words show floccinaucinihilipilification. To pensioners; flabbergastation, N.I. increases, employers frustration, To voters, he’s an overpaid fustilarian. The self-employed, driven to fulmination! Taxpayers, give him a two-fingered gesticulation! He must be the current most-hated man in the nation, He’s guilty of inspiring the common man’s hortation!. Personally, I think he’s a schmuck, a sleeveen, His stealing from pensioners was particularly mean! We’ll mostly be dead come the next election… My last words are typed with some hesitation... Bear in mind they come from a man lacking education, I’ll be waiting for him, at his damnation! And we can both have a discussion in Hell’s dungeon! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Early morning—well, not all that early, really—around 06:30 hrs, morning views from the kitchenette window.
Later on.
An hour or so later.
Toothache Tiffany kicked off.
Teatimeish.
Not a proper meal. But the innards had been playing me up all day, and I didn’t want to annoy them anymore. I was content with what I had: Milk Roll sliced bread, nobutter-buttered tomatoes, beetroot, and red onions. The last pickled egg: red onion, a splodge of Marmite, or Vegemite—I like them both. And mini franks of undetermined meat and flavour, but they tasted okay.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I’m struggling with toothache, seizures, and concentration. Lack of sleep is doing me no good, either. I can’t get caught up.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Let’s see how I go in the morning and if the computer is kind to me when it comes to saving photos. I’m low.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFNski!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – But does that include the product? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – GAWD, I’VE NEVER FELT LOWER! Forgive this start to this messed-up, dismal, disappointing, depressing, distressing, dispiriting, disheartening, discouraging, demoralising, dismal, daunting, disenchanting, disquieting, discomposing, disturbing, distressing and deplorable due to this computer-preventing-success blog.
The hardest and least successful day ever. I’m assuming that the end is near. I’ll lose all I hold dear… It’s not a computer here; it’s an electric alligator… The web’s the master aggravator and alienator! A bloodsucker, a mental boneshaker… That’s turned me into a bellyacher, Duodenal Donald had never been pain-fuller! I’m frustrated, getting angrier, & arsier! After the stroke, I acquired aboulomania, It got worse swiftly, I can tell yer… My Doctor seems more like an arbitrageur. Did she know, or was she being cagier? Indigestion or maybe apepsia or dyspepsia. Hospital check-up – Duodenal Ulcer… In later life, one tends to become more toeier, I became addicted to my new Atari computer… A joy to behold, it made me happier, Then the web came, loved by each Diddler & Fiddler, Manipulated and financed by the Oligarcher, Thus, I approach the end of my tether… Tired of failure, trying to be a trier… Alone, is it time to meet my maker? I try to get out of the depressional mire… Will my spirits ever get higher? Will Heaven be waiting, or Hell’s fire? I don’t think it should really matter… Well, not to me, a failed snippersnapper!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I had half an hour of when the computer aloowed me to get pictures on… not many. Bitterly dejected now. When I got up from the depths of the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop bought, second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy & dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping, recliner. The nocturnal bag is nice and full. Changed and photographed the old-fashion clock calendar. Got these photos to save to go on here, but not for eight hours! Very anger-making! Took the misty morning shot.
Hours later, I emptied the day catheter bag into the jug. It looked awfully full of bits of red stuff floating about in the urine. 640ml’s worth.
It was my worst day ever with this com-dam-puter; I lost so many hours failing to get it to save the photos. I did what I tried yesterday, thinking how well it went then; if I do the same, it must work again. What a Dork!
During the last four hours on the computer, I just got one photo to save! And that was one of the worst I’ve ever taken.
Going to have to get things ready for the visit to the Doctors and DVT Warfarin clinic tomorrow.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Monday Morning. I got up at 05:00hrs and got the ablutions done. Took a poo, and it was two-tone in both ways. Started off taking agony and ages to get it moving; one giant torpedo plopped out, followed by soft, gooey Trotsky Terence splashes! A few weeny cuts shaving. I didn’t do all the medical checks, as the DVT nurse is going to check the read end in the examination later at the surgery; blood and Haemorrhoid Harold are to be tested again.
Then, there’s the RSV inoculation. I’m looking forward to walking there and back. It’s a shame I could not arrange a lift. I sorted the waste bags, made a brew, and got on the computer. I started it and did a clean-up with Ccleaner. That allowed me to save some outstanding photos! I’d got about nine to go on here. After saving three, it stopped again! It would not let me save those taken today to file!
Was I angry? Did I get all flustered and annoyed? Did I swear & curse at all? Well, yes!
Carer Richard arrived. He sorted the medications for me. And took the laundry down for me. Photos from yesterday (Sunday). Just three of them! A jar of the Golokowa meat. (Pork shank), potatoes done in the air fryer, peas done in the slow cooker, sliced tiny tomatoes yellow & red, and some extra strong mature cheddar cheese in the bowl. Spirit vinegar on the potatoes. It was the best-tasting meal I’ve had in a long time! I’ll try to remember to stop at the deli shop on my way to the Doctor’s this morning to get some more of the meat. It was super and had lip-smackingly good meat jelly in it! Early evening sky.
I did this blog up to here. Realising that I was going to be out for hours, I decided to send this off now before I prepped things for the surgery and clinic. It’ll be a long day, with lots of walking and hobbling, so blogging may be too challenging to get done—although, with my computer, it’s always that way!
I’m hoping the earlier warning that if the results are not good, I may be taken into the QMC immediately and will be in for a few days. I think it’ll all be down to the blood status (INR). However, my EQ tells me this will not happen, and I believe it.
I might have to leave the blog until later. See how I feel after the local anaesthetic wears off. There will probably not be time left in the day anyway. 14:00hrs, examination, then the procedures, then getting home again… home? I mean back to my cell… no, flat! Hehehe!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I’d been out for beer & darts, I was feeling merry, I took a shortcut home through the cemetery, I was between the trees having a pee… And a voice started talking so pleadingly! I turned & there was a man who looked skeletony… I was stunned when he asked hoarsely… ‘Ave yer gorra gasper matey? Adding, yer the first one who’s ever seen me! The things I’ve seen, rising from my grave nightly, I asked rather wearily and sceptically… Are you dead then? A little sarcastically, Oh, yer, I snuffed it in 1963, Did yer die painfully or sinisterly? Nae, boringly… Worappened specifically? The missus killed me! I went out for a beer at the Apple Tree… But I drank beer tremendously, Had a pee up against that tree… I tangled the zip, and it cut my weenie! Bled to death, no help around this vicinity, Off to la-la land, fell down this grave to the hereafter, Laid there and died, drunk, couldn’t even pray, They put someone’s coffin on top of me the next day, Still, I can get out at night now to play, I’m sorry to hear that; what can I say? I fooled yer. I’m just a dead hornswoggler…
Commonly known as the Grim Reaper, Oh, you’re the soul taker? I’ll not read the warrant; it’s just a longueur, You’ll be free of worries & hylomania, I could let you stay longer, however… Delay taking your soul to the hereafter, Can you help the Grim Reaper Grand Templar? What does he want, your head denunciator? Fags! To calm his temper! Just take me; my life here is just crepuscular!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Moments of Mind-Mangling-Malcolm – Out-of-Its – Sandra’s Seizures – Mind-Blanks; Call them whatever you like, but they controlled most of this “What-Day-Is-It” – Where-am-I?” “What am I doing” day!
The computer contributed to the mental confusion, stubbornly stopping me from saving files.
Eventually, after the fourth Ccleaning session, I circumvented some of the photo refusals by grouping some together and making them minuscule. And it worked!
I thought this was the solution. I tried again with others, and not only did it not save them, but it deleted the ones I was trying to save them as! So I lost some more of them. Frustrated is not a strong enough word! The day did not start well. I got up at 07:15hrs. I’ve been getting up later for some reason. The night pouch was far too deep, a colour to my liking. Searching the nurse’s bags to find a mesh catheter pouch holder took me so long. And proved to be another of my many, varied multitude of failures. The door chime chimed. Carer Sam came in. The medications were sorted, the diabetic socks sorted, and a short natter was enjoyed. The Kodak Camera was in a temperamental mood. It kept telling me each time I returned the card from the computer to the camera that it needed Formatting. But this will erase all content on the SD card!
All I could do was to take it out and put it back in again, sometimes up to 8 times!
I shot the room to see if it worked this time. Then I took a snap of my beloved tree copse. Unfortunately, it will soon be bare of leaves. Bootiful!
I got the ablutions sorted. One gigantic mega-torpedo with rear-end splitting capabilities! (Haha! I don’t know why I laughed then; it wasn’t funny!)
Two little tiny nicks shaving that oddly took ages to stop bleeding. The amount of Brut needed surprised me. Maybe my INR level is a bit high? When I stepped out of the bowl of antiseptic-disinfected water that I’d been standing in a while shaving, panged like crazy, and this, at only raising the leg about 2 feet to clear the bowl. Odd that! I Phorpain gelled both Cartilages and Arthur Itis’s knees. Got the olive Oil in both earholes. Blephagelled the right… no, left eye, and sprayed both. Then I rubbed the barrier cream on the arms, hanging belly, and base of Little Inchy. The blotches and spots had returned above each eye, so they also got some barrier-creaming. I added some Germolene on top.
Poor Little Inchie was the next job to tackle. Left till last again, you notice. Maybe I enjoy pain. What’s the word I want? Maybe I’m a masochist, is it? I’m sure Little Inchie shrivels up even more when he sees the tube coming his way. I went to the kitchen, got the earhole sprayer, and gave both ear canals a good blast of purified water. I cut some Warfarin tablets in half for the Caregivers to use on their morning calls. The dosage is currently 1½ every day until the next test on Monday, November 25th. I think. I scribbled some notes of the day on the reminder pad and made a mug of tea using JS Extra Strong and Thompson’s Punjana tea bag. It tasted delicious!
They started coming at me as soon as I got on the computer. After this, they rarely gave me a rest. And here I am, trying to write this at 0950hrs tomorrow morning, with nothing added to the memory notes from here on. It felt like an instant change from being somewhat with it to being unsure of what I was doing. I’ll mention this to the nurse on Monday at the surgery. That’s something else that concerns me; three carers said they would try to get through to Easy-Link for me and get back to me to see if they can do me a lift. I’ve heard nothing. So, I must walk to the surgery and back on Monday (tomorrow). I’m told it’s not their job to ring up for me. I ask them to, cause of the mistakes I’ve made in the past with mishearing what they say on the phone. Face-to-face is a lot easier, but I’ve had trouble using a telephone or mobile since the stroke. Now that the landlines have gone ‘Fibre’, catching everything said over the phone is more challenging than ever. I’ll not bother them again. I felt guilty asking them in the first place.
Anyway, I managed last Tuesday without a lift. It about crippled me with the effects of the hypos. Hehe! I hope the RSV jab is kinder to me than the Covid & Flu ones were.
I had the microwave heat-and-eat dishes arrive. It said to avoid staining the pot, do not cook tomato sauces, baked beans, or fatty foods.
I was going to have some lamburgers. Carer Joanne said they are cookable in the air fryer. But because I wanted to try the microwave pots, I put a readymade meal and some cooked beef in a pot and cooked them for 6 minutes in the microwave. I lost the photo along with all the others, eaten by the computer. The meal looked okay and smelt fine. But oh, dear, it tasted terrible. The first time I used the microwave dish, I left it stained already.
The Grim Reaper paid another call; he’s named Zit, This is the second time this month he’s paid a visit, He smelt of death and vinaigrette… He went on about heaven & hell both being illicit, Hell? he thought I’d cope better with it, Heaven: I wouldn’t last for a minute … Hell holds politicians and people who are Oligarchic, He offered me a different course of action, He can arrange the Time Lord option, He’s willing to assist me get a Grim Reaper adoption, But to qualify, I must commit an abomination! “Must I rob a bank or do an abduction?” You must kill; your best bet is an assassination… “That’s no problem if it’s a politician”, “Knocking off our PM would be a pleasure, Do you mean Keir Starmer? “He’s a pensioner plunderer!” “A liar by omission & deceiver!” “He’s more of a hoodwinker than a wisecracker!” Great, get it done sooner, not later… You’re due to snuff it this December! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
ON THE MEND NOW! Despite my inability to stay asleep for more than ten minutes, I’d been engulfed in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop bought, second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy & dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping, recliner for hours & hours. Slowly, the pains from my left arm had dwindled, and my right arm was hardly noticeable. The dizziness was less frequent, and I was feeling much better now. Shivering was the only ailment, any bother. Naturally, Cartilage Carol and Chloe still gave the impression that they would give way, but they’ve been doing that for months. It’s been a while since my last visit to the , at least I think it has. I felt a lot more savvy with it this morning.
The night pouch seemed to be fuller than usual. If I recall correctly, I asked the Carer to put it on earlier than normal. I can’t remember why. I wobble into the kitchen, planning to check things and get the ablutions sorted. But No! The hot water tap had been left running for 6 hours. It was only dribbling, but enough for the water to be stone cold! For once, I don’t think I can be blamed. I did not go in the kitchen at all yesterday afternoon or night.
So, no ablutioning could be done. I did try using the Porcelain Throne NO MOVEMENT! Then I went back to the kitchenette. And I took these snaps of the morning view on offer.
Carer Richard arrived as I was doing the pictureless Wednesday blog. I remembered telling him that the prescriptions had been picked up and telling him a short tale of the events on Tuesday. I asked each carer to please let him know that I’d got the medicines to save him from going to collect them. But he said no one told him. I’m glad but surprised that I remembered it now.
The J. Sainsbury order arrived while Richard was here. I got it put away before I thought about photographing anything. Richard helped me carry the bags to the kitchen.
So I nipped around, taking these shots on the left.
Top one Frikadellens in the fridge. Next, Golonkowa and sausages are in the fridge. Then, some cut-price burgers and beef in gravy were also in the fridge. Drinks, ready-made meals, cream cakes for the warden’s treat, and a jar of black bean sauce were also included. Then, there are yoghourts, lemon curd, and lemon & lime flavours. And the Vegemite. I topped up the nurse’s drinkie shelf. Not, I’d got myself some cans of shandy.
Imitation gurgling sounds came from the innards; I shot back to the wet room. Well, that was a pointless effort. Not a sausage! Pain & blood, Yes! Hehehe!
When Carer Sham left in the afternoon, I realised that had been so kind to me over the last day and a half while I was out of it and feeling rough. It was her returning with a vengeance that made me realise. Suddenly, I was struggling to concentrate again. I also realised how well I had done with the blog. It all changed! At least was being kind to me. I may regret saying that later!
Would any of my hundreds of fans, either of you, like to guess what this photo is of? I ask cause I can’t remember taking it or where or why?
It’s getting hard work now with the mind-blanks.
Warders Julie & Deans popped in to see me. Then I received a call from someone convinced I was someone called Trevor. I tried to keep calm about his insistence on swearing and telling me not to be such a wanker. He may well have been intoxicated or on drugs, and maybe he’s rang the wrong number. I hope.
I ordered some microwave heat and eat plates. I don’t think I’ll be able to get the cooker removed and replaced anytime soon, so I don’t want to spend any money on it. Getting the computer sorted out is my priority. Hopefully, I can manage these pots with the microwave and air-cooker.
I took these snaps of the kitchen view. It was getting dark and a smidge misty, but I tried to capture the changing colours of the trees and bushes.
Hello, I’m off to the often-visited WC in the wet room yet again!
Same result, NOW OUT!
Carer Chris did the tea-time call. He was in a rush, he’ll be doing the late call too.
Ging to sign off now and get something to eat.A can of tomatoes, bacon and bread, methinks. Back in the morning. I took these shots while I was cooking. I like it when the photographs depict the sky as having a brown hue. It does it sometimes in the morning as well. Of course, it’s most likely due to something I keep doing repeatedly wrong photographically.
The meal: Tomatoes, black bean sauce, red onions sliced in, and some smoked streaky bacon. Brown & wholemeal cobs, and after digesting the feast, Carer Christopher arrived. The little monkey ran his fingernails along the soles of my feet again when he took of my diabetic socks. I’ve asked him not to. Hehe! But he seems to enjoy doing it. (Joking, I don’t want anyone to read this and think otherwise)
No electricity bills – it’s been cut off! Now, can everyone stop labelling me a crook, pensioner-pincher?
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I learnt today that my DNA was adenoviral… Dying neurotransmitters made it aetiological… To my brain, this was not logical… It sounded pretty comical, Most of my problems are neurological, But this ailment may be attenuable… That was a shock, unbelievable! Me? Get an ailment that’s treatable? Possibly, maybe perhaps, even curable! The hope is to make this abrogable, I thought this test result may be apocryphal, He said it could be operationable… There’s a chance your heart may go asystole, “That’ll be fine; it’ll save me buying a pistol!” He frowned & said; Are you suicidal? “No, it was a joke, I was being risible! He laughed, saying, “Haha, some people!” – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The first visit to the WC was a Constipation Conrad torpedo of mammoth proportions, which pleased me, given the upcoming medical visits later today. There is less chance of embarrassment from any leaks.
I got on the computer to finish Monday’s blog. Then, most surprisingly, I was summoned to the porcelain Throne again. I was even more amazed at Trotsky Terence in control again! Which made me feel a fool for mentioning how pleased I was with Constipation Conrad. Now, I think the opposite. Coping with the bloody catheter is bad enough, especially with having to wear trousers again, the first time in months. I regained the worry over any leaks from the catheter or it filling up while I was out; now I fear things may escape from the rear end! I pressed on with starting this blog. And half an hour into the job – unbloody-believable!
This third visit was messy and ultra-gooey in the extreme! It’s a good job that I have plenty of toilet paper and air freshener to hand in the wet room. Now, I worry about the bus journeys to and from the medics. Can I avoid any getting on and off of the bus? Will there be any waiting for what is needed? That will give it more time to leak or burst on the bus or during surgery. And walking is not an option anymore. That would take me an hour each way and almost guarantee an on the trips to and from Sherwood. It turned out to be a lot longer.
Stopping here, wait for the caregiver, put on socks, take medications, and then do the ablutions. Then, sort out what is needed for the trip and leave before midday for the surgery: bus pass, collapsable walking stick, Medical card, appointment card, and log book. Empty the catheter bag, wear new PPs, and wear trousers. Oh, and hearing aids and put on long-distance spectacles.+ Keys.
It’s all a challenge that no one should have to go through. But, with no one to help, I must sort it out myself.
Life can be a @?*⇓⊗! No! Life is a @?*⇓⊗!.
Care Christopher arrived and put on my socks. He also took the laundry bag at my request. I haven’t received it yet, but it’s only been 25 hours so far. Oh, I get them back.
Care Sam came later. She could see the state I was in with my nerves. She kindly helped me get the things together for the journey-to-hell send-back. (Well, it was a struggle, as I hope you will read about later.) Sam kindly walked me to the bus stop, which was kind of her. When leaving the flat, she returned to get my hat, which I had forgotten to put on. But, waiting for the bus, I remembered the last time I went on one and fell getting onto the bus, and then off of it!
I chickened out and walked down Winchester Street Hill into Sherwood, carefully and slowly. The famously cracked pavements were now covered with leaves in sheltered areas, and it was difficult to manoeuvre the three-wheeled-walker when hitting leaf-covered potholes. No falls yet. I reached the bottom of Winchester Street and went up Mansfield Road to the supposedly arranged flu jab at the top chemist. On the way up the hill, I called in the Co-op and got some food. As I walked up towards the chemist, the atmosphere was bleak. Nine people on that short stretch of the incline sat in closed shop doorways with the traditional pot of coffee, begging and giving out depressing stares that could melt you if you looked back at them. Poor devils or con men?
I plodded up the hill to the chemists, taking my time so I wasn’t too early for the flu jab appointment. Whoopsiedangleplop. The lady said I was not booked for a jab, and anyway, the lady who does them is not in on Tuesdays. I explained that my caregiver had rung to make the appointment, but she may have made it at a different chemist. I might not have explained which one very carefully. I think I was in a mini-seizure when she made the calls. She recommended I try the bottom chemist, a quarter of a mile down the hill and almost up the high point on the right. So I began the long trek down and up Mansfield Road to the second chemist to investigate. I got so far down and remembered there was a chemist to the north that the Carer might have booked me in with. Turned around, passing the Co-op and first chemist back up the hill and down to the Daybrook Chemist. I was feeling knackered by then! Got there. So, back up the Mansfield Road Hill to Sherwood, down through Sherwood to the chemist.
Nope, I wasn’t booked in with him either. He rang other chemists without any luck. But Carrington Chemist could do me now and give me the COVID-19 jab.
It was another dangerous trip over the hill and down into Carrington. Before crossing any roads, the pavements and high steps on that route need working out.
Finally, I got there and was told they would not start the injections for 20 minutes. ‘Take a seat’; I was told in a way that dared not take one. So, I sat down, knowing the agony I’d be in when standing up again from Cartilages Chloe & Carole! With all the walking and hobbling, fighting to keep three-wheeled-walker-wally from tipping over, that I’d done.
I was first in the queue, though. I got into the treatment room. The lady said she could not give me the DVT procedure but did give me the COVID and Flu jabs. An assistant stopped me on my way out. She had some Prescriptions that I could take with me. Which, hopefully, will mean Carer Richard will not have to fetch them for me this week. I must remember to tell the Carers later on about this.
Then, the long slog back up the Mansfield Road hill and down into Sherwood began.
I crossed the road to return on that side, thinking the pavements might be easier to navigate. They weren’t. I pressed on steadily and carefully.
I did not experience arm pain, but there were plenty from the Cartilages. The arm aches started when I got into the flat. I called into the continental shop and got some food. Then, I finally reached the bottom of Winchester Street. I have no idea of the bus timings nowadays, so I hastened… Haha! And hobbled up Winchester to the bus stop.
Luckily a bus was due in six minutes.
I stood up on the bus. I didn’t want to start Chloe and Carole off again. The arms were twinging a little now, not as bad as later on, and in the morning, Wow!
Gt in the flats, said hello to Warden Julie as I passed, and up to the flat. Food & sleep, I’m sure, were primarily on my mind.
And boy, after eating, (I took a snap of the meal as I recall, and the batteries ran out in Kodak Tim. Did I sleep? Yep! I slept for about 14 hours!
I was so chuffed with my handling all of the confusion, Although, at times, it seemed like a hallucination, Sorting the chemistas out crippled my bunion! I felt like I’d walked to and back from Euston! It was painful to free myself from inaction, I suffered incapacitation but had an incarnation. Despite the pain from the Covid and Flu injections, And having to face averbal inquisition, I say this with no doubts but justification…
I believe this should/could be achievable…
Twice a week, if the weather is allowable…
I’ll take a walk around the flats, well, a hobble!
It may be stopped by Bunion Baz or Cartilage Carol,
Inchies, Fungal lesion, Diabetes, things Peripheral,
Seizures Sandra, Sham’s Shocks electrical,
No problem, I can always reschedule!
The hobble will naturally start off ephemeral…
If this goes well, and my body is permissible,
Although these plans sound frangible…
My new power may make them possible!
Lance Francis, 25, received the longest sentence of 14 years after being convicted of riot and arson with intent to endanger life. Reiss Wilson, 21, was jailed for 12 years. Wilson admitted riot, perverting the course of justice and arson being reckless as to whether life is endangered. Curtis Dejean, 19, was detained for 10 years. Callum Powell, 20, of Jarrow Gardens, Top Valley, was found guilty of rioting and sentenced to five-and-a-half years in a young offenders’ institute. Shaundrie Robinson, 22, of Scotholme Avenue, Hyson Green, was also found guilty of rioting and jailed for five years. Gregory Coleman, 20, of Broxtowe, was found guilty of rioting and sentenced to five years in a young offenders’ institute. Anthony Edwards, 24, of Noel Street, Hyson Green, admitted to riot and was jailed for three years and nine months. Ashton Alexander, 19, of Radford Road, New Basford, admitted rioting and was sentenced to four years in a young offenders’ institute. Harrison McCalla, 21, of Carlswark Gardens, Top Valley, admitted to riot, jailed for four-and-a-half years. Lucas Stapleton, 18, of Dulwich Road, Radford, admitted rioting and was sentenced to two years and nine months in a young offenders’ institute. Ricardo Cotteral, 23, of Basford Road, Basford, admitted to violent disorder and was jailed for three years. Bobby Muers, 18, of Caunton Avenue, St Ann’s, admitted violent disorder, sentenced to 15 months in youth custody. Kaiden Howell, 16, of St Ann’s, admitted violent disorder and was sentenced to six months’ detention and training. Marcus Wynter, 16, of St Ann’s, admitted violent disorder, sentenced to four month’s detention and training. Shaundre Robinson, 22, of Scotholme Avenue, Hyson Green, received five years in prison. Kaiden Howell, 16, of Eccles Way, St Ann’s, pleaded guilty to violent disorder and was jailed for six months. These young lads sent down are all out now, free once again to commit more crimes. Of these eight, they tell me that six are back in the lock-up. And all eight have offended again. They seem to be just as violent as before. Attempted murder, arson, murder, stabbing, rape, drug offences, and having offensive weapons in public.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Clue: It looks more like a worm to me!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Although the computer let me belatedly save this, it took a long time, it didn’t save all of it. I was fed up!
.- – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – What an odd night’s sleep last night.
I’m sure that the moments between waking up with a jump were followed by a dream. I felt so unsettled each time, but I cannot now recall anything about their disturbing contents.
I soon remembered that DVT Warfarin Nurse Hristina was coming this morning to take some blood for testing.
About 06:15hrs, I rose slowly from the slumber and limped off to the wet room to get a wash & shave.
Constipation Conrad was back in full charge of the action again. One gigantic torpedo, followed immediately by golf ball-sized, sea-mine-shaped lump. The contents had three distinctly different colours. Mostly Kharki, with bits of black and red from the blood that trickled out. Damned painful!
It was too early to use the noisy shower, so I had a good stand-up wash and shave. The Razors scored a few nicks and cuts, but the Brut stopped the blood flow.
I went to get the kettle on and took this poor shot of the view from the kitchenette window.
Shaking Shaun visited me at the wrong time. Tsk!
Kicked-off, nice and steady at first.
But she soon got into one of the persistent rhythms, and I was all over the place mentally. I don’t know how I managed to get things done, albeit mostly wrongly, and I need corrections.
I’m sure things were not helped by the pain from causing a lot of bleeding this afternoon. I gave out the odd, Argh! Ooh & naughty words.
Carer Richard did the first call. Carer Chloe the second. And Carer Joanne popped in with the washing she does for me, bless her, the thin, long nightshirts that cannot go in a washer. She even hung them up for me (she has a catheter, so she knows the pain that a catheter can inflict ♥) and said she would try to contact Easy Link to sort out a lift for next Monday for me to go to and back from the DVT test to see if I need an operation… not that I’d live long enough with the length of the waiting list. Haha!
I may not have time to write a blog tomorrow, so I will see if I can start on it tonight. A cartoon and an Ode would be better than nothing. I can always post it if the medications don’t do what they did to me last time. (I’m having the flu jab as well.) I think I slept for 22 hours after the jab the previous time.
Earlier End Views are allowed to save! YeeHaa!. The end car park. The Tree Copse.
Can’t remember, but this may have been from yesterday.
I’m getting hungry now. I’ll get a meal, and if anything happens and it lets me put photos on, I’ll catch up in the morning. Oh, no, I’ll not have time. Well, if I get up early enough, I’ll have time. I’m struggling here. What I’ll be like after the jab, I don’t know. I hope they do the procedure if needed, that is, first, and then after the jab, I can rush back here to fall asleep for a day, just like last year.
TTFN – Back in the morning.
Good Morning! Tuesday A.M.
04:10hrs: Lousy sleep. I got up and struggled with getting the night pouch off. I sorted the waste bags; I must remember to ask the Carer to take the laundry bag; it’s full already.
I got on the computer to try to finish this blog. I hope there is time for me to start on Tuesdays. I have to sort the medication, bus pass, ablutions, and get dressed. I haven’t been out for that long; I’ve forgotten the bus times. I hope the catheter bag does not fill up while I’m out and about. Also, Arthur Itsis, Anne Gyns, Cartilages Cathy, and Chloe don’t play up with this sudden-to-them exercise. Hehe!
I’m praying that Sandra’s Seizures don’t kick off when I’m getting on or off the bus or in traffic.
