– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – WEDNESDAY’s ODE I apologise for the crap above – I ran out of CBD, you see! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Very late this morning, I stirred into life, around 0715hrs. Tsk!
The tumble-caused marks and bruise in the right knee, I expected to start stinging as soon as I moved – but no! Hardly any stiffness, and the pain when I did move, was pleasantly greatly reduced. I expected it would be far worse, but I’m not complaining. As I was catching my balance as I raised up my magnificent, muscular 5′ 3″ body onto my feet; a tiny emission from the rear end all but had me gasping for breath! I thought it advisable to make my way to the , with some haste. Well, it appears that Trotsky Terence is reclaiming the top spot in the evacuation-stakes daily battle with Constipation Conrad this morning. Splurt-splash and all over with! Bending to clean up the well-sprayed porcelain bowl, I hit the right knee against the bowl… but hardly any pain, and that evaporated within minutes. Are things going well today? Worrying, innit? So unnatural!
Had a wash, no shave yet, cause I wanted to be ready for when Carer Richard arrived. He didn’t have time for a proper chinwag Monday or Tuesday. I was looking forward to a mutual moaning, groaning, verbal-repartee, and laughing session with the lad. By the time I’d made up the waste bags, ♫ Oh Susana ♫ had chimed out, and in came Richard. He greeted me in the kitchen, but my EQ told me I would not get a blathering session. As he started to yawn as he spoke, I knew my chances of a good confabulation were nil! Hehehe! That’s three days without a good Richard gossip… Humph! Still, can’t blame the lad; he might be disappointed too. Anyway, I tried not to show my disappointment to Richard and genuinely wished him a better day’s kip for today. He gave me one last yawn, after telling me to take care as he left, with the waste bags in his hand for the rubbish chute. Bless him!
Morrison’s email regarding today’s order: CRAP!
I popped into the balcony to have a look around outside, and I managed a rarity – a moving vehicleusing the wide bit as a turnaround point. Red van-man, in his usual position on the no-parking chevrons. I wonder if he’s a bully or a wealthy tenant… maybe related to one of the Nottingham City Homes bosses? Could be all three?
I got the Boot’s branded Sphygmomanometer, manufactured by ZDEAC (Zhongshan Daguan Electrical Appliance Company Ltd) in Guangdong, China, and the were done. SYS 157, DIA 75, Pulse 76 and the body temperature was 33.4°f. Oh! The returns from the NHS Diagnosis site showed that I was still in the Red Zone much a lot higher than yesterday. I’d have thought yesterday’s sudden raise would be due to the tumble I took, yet today. Feeling a lot better, and it increases? There’s no telling, is there?
I started to get yesterday’s blog finished off but got carried away by adding things I forgot to put on. A slow job again, bearing in mind all the mistakes I was making in typing. I wonder how long it will be before the cataract is done?
The intercom went, and I heard it! ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ burst forth as the Morrison delivery man arrived. I remembered to tell him before he started unloading the baskets, as I was directed to in Morrison’s Email! The chap seemed unphased about it! What the hell am I ordering stuff from them for?
I thanked the man and got the much-reduced food into the kitchen. No message from crap-overpriced Morrisons to tell me they are going to reduce the order cost yet, and it is now gone 20:00hrs? Are they going to rob me? I wouldn’t be surprised. SWINE! Realised that I had not sent back the overpriced unwanted food bags – I am a clot! Morrison was charging more than Amazon were for the Germoloids? Gits! They must hate their customers? And their pistachio nuts were as dry as wood! The cheddars biscuits deserve to be called Cheddars-crumbs!The cans of mandarins in water were both dented. I hope they have not put arsenic or bleach in the vegetable risotto! The fridge was full again, but not as full as it would have been; were Morrison’s skilful enough not to run out of stock of many things. I’ll just check the emails to see if any notification about the returned items has been sent… back in a bit.Nope, no email from Morrison’s.
I got another call on the intercom. I think that van is an Amazon one, but no one was in view. The man who delivered to me left nearly an hour ago? Of course, it might not be an Amazon vehicle at all. I’m waffling again, sorry.
I spent a good many hours (five more at least) getting the Tuesday blog finished: I just kept adding to it?Is this being caused by Doreen’s Dementia?I genuinely found it impossible to stop writing. I was aware that time was running out. I was worried about getting no sleep again…Yet I still pressed on. The only thing that stopped me was self-hatred at my stupid actions… really sad innit!
I eventually got the Tuesday blog sent off well into the afternoon and started doing the template for this one…
Warden Julie appeared in the room, another shock for the ticker. He asked if anyone had been knocking on my door. I’ve heard no one, I replied. But as she was hastily going out again, she said something as she hastened down the hallway, but I could make it out.
Ten minutes later, there was a knocking on the door. A tall, well-built young man, holding out a wrinkled ID of some sort. Told me he wanted to earn an honest living, he was just out of prison, and would I buy something from his bag? Really pressing for me to view them and purchase something. He was most annoyed when I said no. Then I realised this might be why Julie had come to see me earlier. I tried ringing her and Warden Deana to inform them he was still about, but no answer. So I left it alone but kept the door locked after that.
Carol called to say is it alright if she does the laundry on Sunday, cause I can see you have plenty of clothes. (Unaware, I’m sure, that I can no longer fit into ¾ of them – Hehehe! No problem, I said. It’s with Esther staying on her holiday in South Africa for another two weeks, and Carol obviously did not know and had made other plans, bless her. Not her fault at all. I asked her if she saw a Warden tell them he was still on site. I assume it was this con man they were looking for? I was entertained on and off by Herbert in the flat above, with a good mixture of mechanical concerts. The tap tapping was superb; he threw in a few metal-sounding thuds.
The intercom went, and I heard it again! I looked through the spy-hole and saw an Amazon man who’d been last week and opened the door. Cautious that it might be the con man again, I waited unto the door chime rendered the ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ tune. It was the Depend Protection Pants. These may look rough compared to the others, but they are practical and reassuring.
I opened the carton and put the pants bags in the spare junk room.
Then, I put the last of all the rest of them, with a bag, open of the Depend ones, into the wet room. I can rest easy now. Should I be caught out, heavens forbid, but it can and does happen. The front wee-wee spurts or the , or the most noticeable, when Inchies . The Tena and Morrison ones have let me down in the past. The ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ tune burst forth again. It was Josie, bless her heart, she’d bought me some bananas for making her Sunday meals. ♥
I got back to blogging for several more hours… Until I was just too tired to do any more for now. And I’ve still not had a meal yet! I took this photograph of the moody evening view from the kitchenette window while cooking the Oh, so late meal. The meal: A veggie cottage pie, red and yellow mini-tomatoes halved, and the last of the just out-of-date raw garden peas. Weak and unwilling. Backed up with a bag of Seaweed Crisps. Seaweed coated with tapioca with tried these; I think Sister Jane would like these. I’ll put some with her wine to take to her. Or to be collected. Whichever. Melted in the mouth, expensive, but jolly tasty flavour! I woke up and took the dish, cutlery, and empty pot on the food tray to be washed… ! I’d left the tap I (faucet) running again! , ! No hot water now until the early morning, so no shaving either. Too risky to use hot water from the kettle to shave with. I remember leaving the taps on in January and using the kettle for shaving water… Still, the scalding scars have gone now.
I Lumixed a couple of shots of the rather magnificent view. Came out alright, and both were single efforts.
03:40hrs: Woke feeling rough, but ready to go. The EQ told me I’d have a bit or even a lot of hassle, but the end result would be good!?!?
I pondered on things and how they were going, but no involuntary fear and worry brain-storming. The utter cock-up with the near ten o’clock visits from the plumber chap moments after I had fallen asleep last night. The hot water not being able to be repaired and a new boiler and thermostat being needed. No chance of having it done today, so then I have Sat, and Sun, and however long, how many more days, weeks it will take to order the parts, and they get delivered before I can even think of having hot water available again.
How long is that going to be? But there was a strange feeling of chimaricness, combined with an EQ created passiveness and acceptance of whatever happens, and an assurance that it will be a messy, disturbing and frustrating failed day, with many cock-ups, gaffes, screw-ups, and faux pas involved to come! Yet, I calmly accepted this. Worrying in itself that!
Then today has to be coped with. Dare I go out, just in case there is some movement on the boiler front from Nottingham City Homes? Good job I ordered extra food in from Iceland for today, cause it looks like being the fifth day on the trot of self-imprisonment in the flat. Humph! Then, I’ve got the chap coming to see me from the Stroke Team, and of course, the Iceland delivery. I got myself in a mind-muddle, trying to sort things out in my defective, baffled brain.
Out of the second-hand near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working recliner, that Xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged while stealing my valuables when I was in the Stroke hospital, and off for a Porcelain Throne and wee-wee session. The evacuation was a decent one, no bleeding, although a smidge messy.
The pins (legs) seemed far less mangled compared to yesterday morning. The feet looked almost human-like, too. The old ever-present ankle-ulcer scar appeared a little threatening, but this often happens, and it usually dies away again.
Even the Arthur Itis knees were suffering less this morning! A couple of visits from Dizzy Dennis was a little concerning, but at least they were short ones this time.
To the kitchen, boiled some water to wash the hands in the sink with, and made a mug of tea, then took the medications.
I turned on the computer, and…
I had to go through the palava of resetting the box, that failed. Turning off and back on, that failed. The rigmarole of turning off the Virgin box for a few minutes and then again on – and that did it. Even though Mr Fries attempts at driving me completely bonkers were partially successful, I got the pathetic overcharging Liberty-Global Virgin Internet back on. But it was slow, and hard work using it. Cheers, Fries!
I made a start on this blog, and then updated the Thursday post, after almost forgetting too. Fertummelt fool, I am!
Back to try the web, it was not so slow now. I may regret saying that! I got the graphics on for today, and it was time for the ablutions to be seen to.
The farcical, ridiculous ablutions! But at least I didn’t drop any hot water on the three trips to and from the kitchen this time. The dropsies were numerous; Toothbrush (2), Razor (2), Soap (6), flannel (2), shower-head (1), towel (2), shirt (1), body-spray can, and knocked over the stack of PP’s (Protection Pants).
Mercifully, I cunningly and sagaciously avoided the often blood-blisterisationing, and painful Sock-Glide-Scrimmage, by not wearing any socks!
I went on the WordPress reader. Turned off the computer, and had a try to tighten the handles on the new trolley-walker. But it wouldn’t have it, and I soon gave up trying. Although no guilt was attached this time, why I don’t know. Every day a different mood. Which sometimes changes several times semidiurnal, or more.
08:45hrs, the intercom sounded, and I responded to the hallway. The Iceland order had arrived. I admitted the bloke and readied for his arrival.
He took the bags through to the kitchen for me. I thanked him, and he was off, like Roger Bannister. Hehe!
Note that I am newly prepared for any onslaught from Diahorrea Donald that might come again! Oh, yes! I took a closer look at the size (a bit narrower than others), and the quality of the tissue. They seem strong enough to me. Good value too!
I decided to go and try to catch Riechsfhreress and Catwalk Model Warden Deana, to keep her updated with the hot water situation.
I dropped off the black bags down the waste chute, returned and got the recycling box, which fitted well in between the bars of the old three-wheeler trolley, down in the lift, and dropped the carton off at the caretaker’s door.
I walked along through the link corridor to Winwood Court, taking a picture of a bloke through the windows.
I met and chatting with Welsh William as I did so. We both got to the Warden’s Interrogation and Holding Cell office together. Handed out the nibbles, and although Deana was talking to William, she asked if I had anything important to say, as they both started to leave the room. I mentioned quickly that the fitter had called last night, and I need a new boiler and or thermostat. Off they went.
I thought I’d take some photos of the big social room, but realised I had not taken the camera with me. Oh, dearie me! Back down and through to the main room, taking photographs from left to right:
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
1 / 6
Back up to the flat again. As I limped along the link-corridor, it was almost eerie, being free of any humans, other than myself, of course. Hehe!
As I got to the Fire Escape doorway on the left, I had a nosy through the glass.
The bottom of the stairwell was there, and the external Fire-Escape door.
I was not impressed that someone had left a black bag close to the inner door, for someone in a panic to trip over. Also, there was an obstacle of some sort or other leaning up against the frame of the outer Fire-Escape door. Mmm! Prospectively Dangerous, that!
I made my way back up to the apartment and put the final touches to clearing the Iceland things away. The freezer is now so full, I fear the weight might cause things to fall through the floor. Haha!
Sorting out and putting away the goods, I came across the jar of Polish mushrooms; the one’s I could not open when I bought them last month! I decided it would be a good idea if I stabbed the lid and transferred the contents to a sealed container. So I did!
As I was putting away the mushroom in the fridge – well, making room to fit it in (Hahaha!) there, the door chime rang out! It was the Stroke Physio guy, I didn’t catch his name, a grand young man. He’d kindly brought two different types of walking sticks for me to try out, to see if any might help prevent any falls. He patiently waited and watched as I tried them both out. The one with a broader spread of ‘feet’ on it was not really suitable for this tiny flat. I tried the smaller-footed one (photograph). This was much better but needed some time for me to get used to it. The Gent will call be back in two weeks to see how things are with it. Not only that, but he set to and stiffened the wobbly handlebars on the new walker, for me! Much appreciated his help and understanding of my situation. He said he would have a word with Nottingham City Homes about my problem with the hot water, failed promises and the difficulties; the lack of hot water is causing me. Damned decent chap! Good looking, young, had hair, wasn’t bald and charismatic as well!
An hour later, around 12:00hrs, the door chime burst forth yet again. Popular today! Twas a Nottingham City Homes maintenance guy, who’d come to have a look at the hot water boiler. (The young Physio man, had made an excellent job of his phoning them, for me! Thank you, Sir!)
He made an initial inspection of the problem in hand. George his name was, very patient and efficient too! He fetched some tools and made an in-depth analysis of the situation. I can’t remember exactly what the problem was: but it needed a plumber to come, move the boiler around and replace something. When he has done that, George will return to get the hot water working again. I resisted getting too excited, knowing my record of cruel deplorably lousy luck! But, even the thought that there might be a good outcome had lowered my Anticipatory-Defcon-level by one! The dream, the possibility of being able to shave without risking my life and limb was born! However, I was wondering if the situation was a simulacrum, or real.
During the day, many letters and flyers were received:
A: Proof of my astounding value and worth. 1p interest earned in my savings accounts this year! Humph!
Free filum, Saturday Night & Sunday with details of how to get entangled in booking a seat.
Must be booked Boy Scout provided a meal for £3
Oh dear, how confusing indeed. Severn Trent, to tell us that a water leak is under the flats. They cannot find it? We must find it! Insurance might help pay for it, but only if we have taken out a Homeserve or British Gas policy. We must call a plumber!
If the leak has not been repaired in 14 days, ST (Severn Trent) will complete the repair themselves and recover the cost from those who are held (The tenants?) responsible!
I’m a bit worried again, now!
Just when maybe there were signs and indications of the hot-water fiasco, might be about to get solved. Another Gawd-forsaken, nervous-making, situation arises.
Surely we cannot be held responsible for water leaks? For gracious sakes!
The skies were leaking as well, now. Time is getting on fast now, no signs of the plumber yet. I’ve written that a few times this week, haven’t I?
Despite not having a meal yesterday, I am not feeling peckish at all, yet, anyway. But the tiredness is dawning again. This week’s other bugbear has been the lack of sleep, caused by lack of communication and the fibs given out by Nottingham City Homes for five days, telling me that a plumber would arrive every day, who didn’t! So I was having to stay awake for a ridiculous time, even 20 hours at a stretch, waiting for the non-arriving plumber. As I await one again, I hope it will not be the same today. I still dare not go out, to the laundry, or anything yet now. But hey, life was not meant to be easy. Not mine, anyhow! Grumph!
No plumber arrived yet. I wonder what it’s like outside in the fresh-air? It’s been so long since I had a hobble! The rains stopped now, but still looking a little bleak.
16:10: Hours, the plumber arrived. The job is too big to do. What needs doing will need a minimum of 4 hours, and the lad finishes his shift in two! He phoned someone at their HQ and told him what he thought of it. Said he’d been doing little fiddly jobs when he should have been sent here, then the situation would have been done, and George could have come back and connected things up, so I could have had hot water!
The plumber lad put in an urgent job request for Monday first thing!
So, the EQ was spot on again when it warned me this morning.
Mega-pissed-off. Fearing using kettle and saucepan for washing and shaving. In fear of an accident happening this weekend. (Not from the EQ, just a feeling) Had enough! Don’t know if I can cope with it anymore. Fed-up! Arsed-off!
Going to make some Dagwood sarnies, and try to get some sleep. Not that I expect to, I know I’m too uptight!
00:30hrs: I woke, again in need of a wee-wee. Disentangled my blubbery body from the Xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working recliner £300, c1968, second-hand, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty recliner. Made use of the GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency Bucket) for a PWWDIB (Pathetic-Weak, Why-Did-I-Bother) mode wee-wee.
I took the bucket into the kitchen to clean and sanitise it, only to find that there was no hot water coming from the tap (faucet). The water heater had gone down again! Grumph! So did it using boiled water from the kettle. Not comfortable with the Peripheral Neuralgia making the finger-tips loose sense of touch, and of course, I burnt myself without knowing it once more, until I saw it, then the brain got the message from the nerves, and the pain began! I must get someone to ring for me and inform Nottingham City Homes.
No hot water, no handwashing. Shame, handwashing every morning is part of the accepted physiotherapy and was doing me alright, I think, healthwise. How I’m going to shower and shave, I don’t know. Defcon Three Adopted! Fretting a bit!
I got the updating of the Sunday post finished and posted off. Then I made a start on some graphics needed on CorelDraw, in between the odd RWPS (Reluctant-Weak-Painful-Spraying) wee-wee.
As I stripped for the ablutions, I noticed that I had grown some more wounds, (which seems to alter per diem!) on the chest/belly this time) near the heart op scar. To join with the new spider veins, itches, cuts, lumps, blood papsules, blotches, scars, bruises, stubbed toes, spots, abrasions, boils, abscesses, Clopidogrel-outbreaks, eruptions and Rheumatoid Arthur Itis’s misshaped knees.
The water in the shower was not warm enough to use in the sink, but the hot water from the handbasin sink, was a little more lukewarm, so I had a stand-up wash. Only two dropsies, the toothbrush and a razor. I had to fetch hot water to shave with from the kettle, but luckily I didn’t have any Dizzy Dennis moments, shakes or involuntary Hitler salutes or unwanted Neuropathic Schuhplattler dancing.
I took some black bags to the chute on the way out. I met Olive in the lift, she was on her way to use the new laundry room in Winwood Court. We nattered as we walked along, and I offered my farewells as she went into the washroom. Lovely to see her.
I met Pole-dancer and Warden Obergruppenfùhreress Deana in the Winwood lobby area. I mentioned the lack of hot water. She said she would phone them later, and let me know. I mentioned Josie’s heater not coming warm. She said they will sometimes take 2-3 days to heat up. Also in the lobby, was Roy. In the big room was Malcolm and Welsh William. As we chatted, Angela came through on her way to the bus stop. We all joined her on the hobble (well, Malcolm and Roy are not old enough by far to hobble, so they sped ahead!) to the bus stop. Anklesnappers they are. Hehehe!
I had a change of mind and returned to the flat, so I could tell Josie about the heaters and catch the next bus instead. On the way back to the apartment, the rain was a little more substantial and then stopped altogether.
I pushed the green auto-release button on the fire-door exit out to the seated area and had to shove the door open, to take this picture.
It was a good job I did go back because when I rang Josie’s door chimes, I just caught her getting ready to go out. I explained what I was told by Night Club Dancer and Scharfhreress Warden Deana, about the heaters that can take three days to warm up! It seemed to take a little weight off of her shoulders, and she looked a bit more cheered up. I felt good at being able to assist someone else.
I update this a blog a bit. Sister Jane rang me.
Pete had sent me some photographs from his visit to Goose Fair. For me to put on this blog, along with threats of my being knocked about, my being decapitated, and having Little Inchy chopped off; if I failed to publish them. These threats didn’t scare me! I just happened to think they were decent enough to show… Ahem!
Hang on; “Goose Fair? Spending my money that he nicked and didn’t return, no doubt! – Humph! Grumph and Clapperstoitall!” Hehe!
He gave me an idea what to I might do with one of the photos when I get the time. A good one too! I’ll get it done!
I put away the computer, as I had left it a little late gossiping with Jane, and didn’t want to miss this bus. I got all ready and shot off… well, limped at a decent wobble, to catch the bus.
A damned good chinwag was had with the others at the bus stop. Paul (I think it was) fell asleep on the bus en route. It did me no end of good, seeing someone else nodding off on the bus, instead of me doing it! Hahaha!
The original plan was to call at Tesco to get some more seaweed nibbles. Across the road and halfway to the store, and realised I had come on the late bus! So I turned around and out onto Upper Parliament Street. I watched as the Nottinghamian’s crossed over the pelican lights with the Red-man sign lit! On the green man, I nipped over and down Clumber Street.
The citizenry did not look to be in a good mood this morning. Some hangdog expressions, scowling, dirty-looks and threatening-stares in my direction.
Most people don’t like to be photographed in Nottingham. I suppose, considering the number of illegal immigrants, drug dealers, knife-carrying gang members, shoplifters, muggers, beggars, burglars, car thieves, child-support defaulters etc. we have locally, and the 12% increase in violent crime, it’s perfectly understandable. Hehe!
I got to the end of the road and onto High Street, and walked through the Exchange Arcade. It is a sad walk nowadays. So many closed retailers, so few customers about. On the right, is the new Exchange Barbers. One of the highest-rated according to the Nottingham Post. Even they only had one customer in the shop. And they are reasonably quoted prices: Gents cuts from £14, Students from £12, Boys under 16 from £10. OAP’s from £7, Beard trimming £5. Additional Services: Skin fade £2 (?), Skin fade with foils £3.50 (?), Beards £3.50 and Cut-throat razor £2 (Is that for a shave?). They cater to the younger bloke, I think.
A unit on the other side of the arcade is a unit currently being offered for rent at… £6250 per calendar month! God, how many haircuts and shaves will be needed just to cover the rent? Not to mention rates, taxes, staff wages, insurance etc. Even if they picked the pockets of each customer! Hehe! I wished them all the best!
I left the arcade, and walked down to South Parade, and took this shot on the left, down Exchange Walk. Still no smiles to been seen.
Slab Square, with the Council House behind me.
Top of Long Row, Pavement Cyclist animal shoots by me.
Top of Long Row behind me, Slab Square.
Top of Long Row, a sad looking Debenhams building.
Towards Queen Street corner, another dangerous, bonkers, antisocial, speeding and weaving through people, Pavement Cyclist tearing about!
He was, I think, a Deliveroo food bloke.
One more ignorant Nottinghammian Pavement Cyclist passed me by as I neared the Council House again, on my way around. I could have taken so may more cyclist shots, but there were too many to keep up with!
I spotted a rare, few and far between, seldom located in real life, infrequently sighted, unfamiliar, thin on the ground, unexpected, eye-opening and momentously-surprising site! A Police Officer on foot, in Nottingham! It didn’t bother him that the do-do of a Pavement Cyclist nearly ran into him. For he was walking with gusto, to someone who had collapsed on Long Row.
An ambulance arrived, and moments later, I think a defibrillator or ventilator was being used on the gentleman. He had already been wrapped in a foil blanket, and within minutes they were loading the sick patient into the ambulance. I hope he or she will be okay. This put me on a downer, and I made my way up Queen Street, to the bus stop. It was getting nippy out there, and the bus was a little late arriving.
But the driver, possibly a relative of Stirling Moss, soon caught up with the time-table.
For a while, I was the only passenger on the bus. Later on, Cyndy and Margaret got on the bus. And I made the faux pas of the highest order, with asking Margaret how Pete was. He passed away, two-weeks ago. I was dumbfounded that I had not been informed. I was feeling so bad now, and I am not sure if I even said I was sorry to hear it. Shaken up! I must have said something because Margaret said a note had been posted on the board. I was somewhat withdrawn after that. I do not do funerals as a rule but would have gone to Petes. He was such a grand chap. CIDP I think got him in the end. I hope the new warden feels guilty, after not checking up on his health correctly a few weeks ago.
I was morose, as I made my way to the warden’s office to see what was what with the no-hot-water situation. Deana had not rung earlier, too busy, but rang straight away. After an inordinately long time getting through, she spoke with someone. Result: They may get here tonight, so I have to stay awake until late to listen for the door chime if it goes off. However, if not, they may come tomorrow afternoon or night. This is going to be a strain on me. I’ve been up since 12:30hrs, as I write this it is 17:20hrs, it is already two hours beyond my usual had-down time. And, I have to stay up until 22:00hrs in case the plumber arrives tonight. In the morning, I’ve to get ready and catch the 0725hrs bus to the After Stroke Physio torture… I mean, exercise class. Until around 13:00hrs, and stay awake and fit enough to do the drilling. This is not going to turn out well! My EQ tells me!
I thanked Deana and got myself back to Woodthorpe Court. A mess in the lift foyer area.
The water from the hot tap was not completely cold. Washing and shaving in the morning might be messy, having to use the saucepan and kettles to get washing and shaving water. If the shower water is hot, I can perhaps use that to get reasonably warm water?
I was all twisted thinking-wise and confused now. Pete and the water farce, oh, dear.
I tried to concentrate on updating this post.
I spent five hours doing it and was fighting what I thought was a losing battle, n trying to stay awake. The door had been left open, in case I do not off and if anyone comes. I couldn’t get a wash, dare not make a meal. Was terrified of falling asleep! Dare not put the TV on, without it had subtitles, and I could watch it without the headphones on and still stand a chance of hearing the door chime.. if it goes off! Will it? Won’t it?
The rain was stopping outside again.
As if I wasn’t already struggling to get enough sleep. I even began to feel sorry for myself. Hehehe! I don’t get many lucky breaks, do I? I’m not blessed with good fortune! It’s not easy being a lifelong accident-prone, cursed, hapless, luckless and anathematised idiot!
I can make a baguette, a German Ham baguette with tomatoes, a Dagwood style with a soft drink – but will I nod-off eating it?
I really have no self-assurance, self-confidence, nerve, or self-assurance arising from an appreciation of my own abilities or qualities. Then again, that’s not surprising, as I have no skills or qualities. Or have I? No, I give up! I’ll get the sourdough in the oven, make a nosh, sit down and find some rubbish on the TV to watch that has subtitles on it, and just do my best not to fall asleep! The complete opposite to what I’ve been doing every night for weeks that is trying to get to sleep and failing… Shurrup Inchcock! Yer going bonkers here! You do know this? (Yes!) Okay!
Made the nosh, and ate it, fighting off the desire and need for a kip!
It was tasty, all the same. Flavour: 7.2/10.
I purposely used an old oven tray, to avoid any washing up. (Cunning that!)
I couldn’t do any handwashing, so the clothes pile up!
The breathing was getting a little difficult now. I succumbed to the land of nod, somewhere around 21:00hrs. After my being up and about for 21 hours!
A frustrating day of mental mayhem and wretchedness-ridden day.
I don’t handle pressure, worries, failure, criticism, and being spoken down to very well nowadays.
May all my troubles, and strifes, go forth and multiply!
00:30hrs: Woke, wrestled my humungous body from the Brother-in-Law Pete damaged while he 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, (I still haven’t got them back yet four-months… no, five months now, later), £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. I utilised the GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency Bucket), for a BOBS (Blasting-Out-But-Short) wee-wee.
As I made my way to the kitchen, the ailments seemed to be being kind to me. Even the Arthur Itis knees were not as bad as they have been of late. The shakes, Hitler Saluting and the right-leg-involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler dancing, were all calm! The finger-ends lack of sensation was a bother, though. Making the brew, I came close to dropping the mug, then the milk, then the spoon… well, you get the idea. Hehe! Oh, and the hissing, droning sounds were joined by a few knocks and taps this morning.
I thought about Josie and hoped she’d got her new heaters working. Then, another BOBS (Blasting-Out-But-Short) wee-wee was passed. Took the medications, and to the computer. I was so far behind with things, I had to do some graphics to start this post going.
A cracking head-ache came from nowhere as I typed and retyped the mistakes, many caused by the insensitive to touch finger-ends, other by my natural uneducated ignorance. The stomach rumbled and grumbled, brewing up for the Porcelain Throne activities, I expect.
I went on the WordPress Reader, then off to the Throne, as a matter of urgency… And a decent, clean, not too messy evacuation flowed! One of the most comfortable for a long time! Most copacetic!
I had a wash and changed the PP’s. The pins (legs) knees were a lot less warped, maybe this shows why Colin Cramps was not as bad as he had been, overnight? I did note the almost light blue whatever it is above the right knee. No pain from it, even when I pressed it. I’d like to learn how and or why, and what these short-lived blotches are a sign of. I think that Consultant Stroke Physician Dr Senthhil K Raghunathan may have found the cause in his latest examination report. He mentioned Clopidogrel, causing a rash all over the legs! I must look that up later. All I need to do is remember to do it! Tsk!
I did an Ocado order, after seeing they had the Glengettie Gold teabags back in stock; unless they are conning me! If they send substitutes on Wednesday, I’ll send them back!
Then I moved on to updating the Saturday post. A bit of a fracas, alarums and excursions as the right leg offered up one of its performances of a more energetic mode of the involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances. It caught me out a little, and I had a job not to fall off of the chair! But, it only lasted about 20 seconds, then it died down, and the shoulder gave a Hitler salute (I wrapped my knuckles on the computer screen), and it all went quiet.
The humming, droning noise is loud again! Hello, off to the Throne again… Well, that was another twenty-second evacuation, but not messy at all!
Got the updating done, and sent off to WordPress. Put a few piccies on Pinterest. Went on the WordPress Reader. Then caught up with the TFZers Facebooking.
I got Josie’s potato and some mushrooms in the saucepan. Then made a brew and ate a mini BBQ pork pie with some Twiglets and an apple for a late breakfast.
Got Josie’s ingredients ready, and got the ablutions tended to. Fingers crossed with the sock-glide-battle! Here goes… No Accifauxpas apart from some dropsies, as is usual.
To the kitchen and prepped Josie’s meal. Mashed the spud with cheese, butter, vinegar, salt and a drop of soy sauce. Sugar-snap peas, beetroot, mushrooms, tomatoes, an apple and gherkins. Limoncello dessert on the tray. Mixed the tuna with some mayonnaise, and added the potatoes. Served it up, and delivered it on the server to Josie’s apartment for consumption. I got back to the flat and washed the pots used.
I sat down to watch something on TV and nodded off! Woke with a jolt, hastily got the scarily ever-growing again body from the recliner, and made use of the bucket, for a wee-wee, of the ELPSOAO (Extra-Long-Powerful-Spraying-Out-All-Over) style.
The thirst was still with me, and I took this photograph as I got the kettle on the boil.
One heck of a visit from Dizzy Dennis as I was getting the cuppa made. Short in duration, but it left me unsteady for a while, as I clung to the countertop, sure I was going to go over and make contact with the floor. By the time I felt steady enough to carry on, the tea had gone cold, and I’d lost interest in drinking it anyway. Tsk!
I decided to have rice again for today’s nosh and checked the cupboard for available flavourings. In went: mushrooms, soy sauce, BBQ sauce, basil, BBQ oil, tomatoes and oregano in the saucepan, and warmed it up to boiling. Then added the rice, and franks, continuing to stir the mixture non-stop as it cooked. I felt sure as the wonderful aroma of all the spices and herbs drifted up my nostrils, that I must have overdone the seasoning. Oy Vey!
My allotriophagy with the seasonings, proved for once to be spot on, and to my odd tastebud’s delight, and got a Flavour-rating of 9.4/10 from me!
I ate this spread with deglutition and degust, savouring every mouthful! The excellent, possibly unsurpassable taste of this ambrosial concoction, prompted me to write down the ingredients added, for another taste-feast in the future! Smug-Mode-Engaged!
When it came to doing the washing up, I found that the hot water was cold! The longest time I’ve gone in this flat without the hot water heater tripping, leaking, flooding or breaking down was the six weeks I’d had in hospital after the stroke! I must not forget to inform a warden if I can find one. Else, ask Jenny to help me yet again, toring them for me to advise them and ask for help. But, I do not like having to keep bothering the kind-hearted gal.
If I can get a message out, it might mean my having to stay in for the plumber to arrive tomorrow, but, Hey-ho!
I nodded off within minutes of resettling in the £300 second-hand, c1968, rickety recliner. I woke an hour or so later in need of a wee-wee again. A change in style this one, it was an LRWS (Long-Reluctant-Weak-Sprinkly) type.
I took this fantastic picture of the sky, as I went to check if the hot water had come back on. Of course, it was a hopeless wild-goose chase, lost cause, and waste of time.
I got back down in the rusty, scarily-beige-coloured, grotty recliner. I thought I’d look at what was on the TV.
I know no more… until I woke up with a jump, in need of a wee-wee again, three-hours later!
