Inchy – Tues 24 Nov 20: This time, Morrisons delivered my order to the wrong flats! I couldn’t even return the unwanted substitutes sent! Deana & Julie saved the day!

The Five TFZer group performing! ♥

Tuesday 24th November 2020

Maori: Turei 24th Noema 2020

With perms in the ladies hair, or wigs?

23:45hrs: I woke up just before midnight, still in pain from BPB & AG (Back-Pain-Brenda and Anne Gyna). And Harold’s Haemorrhoids soon joined in trenchantly, the moment I moved my stomach-dominated body.

I first felt, then spotted and removed the TV remote control, empty packet of Frazzles, pencil, and crumbs from the oleaginous folds of my belly fat. Well, it made a change, Hehe!

By the time I’d fought my way out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly, sickeningly beige-coloured, unstable, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, rickety, rachitic, recliner, and gingerly standing up, Haemorrhoid Harold had taken over the position as  LPAG (Lead-Pain-Ailment-Giver), the Germoloid ointment will be needed soon! Tsk!

Wee ChartA wee-wee was taken in the EOGPB (Essential-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket).

This was of the  (Unwilling-Weak-Sprinkly) variety, but the colour was, according to the Urologists Colour-Check-Card, within the ‘Healthy’, ‘Good’ number two-level, for the first time in months. Excellent!

I tended to the Health Checks. The body temperature was the same as yesterday, at 36.8°c. The battery indicator seems to have gone up a tad today?

And, what a change in the results of the Boots BP sphygmomanometer for the SYS result!

Down to 145, from yesterdays 171? I wonder why? I’m not complaining at all, but it would be nice to know the reason.

.I remembered not being able to get out last afternoon, with the waste bags to go to the rubbish chute. Some workers were doing something and had blocked the exit. Good job there wasn’t a fire. But then again, perhaps I had been informed and had forgotten about it. I wouldn’t be amazed if this was true.

I had a nip out of the door and flats door into the lift lobby, to have a nosey. I took these photographs with the Canon camera.

I could see some plastering had been done on the near end wall. I hope the mess left on the new flooring will clean up alright when they get around to it. It appears to be just some smeared plaster, so it should buff up alright without any damage to the new floor tiles. Obviously, they will be working again today to finish the painting off.

I hope to be able to get out to the chute sometime. But as the permitted time to use the chute starts at 08:00hrs, and the workers begin at the same time, it may mean me keeping the smelly bags of waste in the hallway for another day or so before I can access the chute room. Hey-ho!

The need for the Porcelain Throne arrived, a little later than usual. Off to the wet room, down on the seat, and waited for the action to start, which it didn’t! I had a go on the crosswording, read the ankle strap instruction and was about to give up when things started actioning from the rear end! I girded my loins, gritted my teeth, and winced in expectation of the upcoming pain…

The torpedo left the tube, with… wait for it… NO PAIN AT ALL! No bleeding either! Once it began slithering, it was all over and done within a minute! I hoax you not!

Fair enough, it was a tad messy, and that needed attention to detail, and time to clean up.

However, it was a delayed action jobbie, but it was as near a normal evacuation as I’ve ever had! Gawd, bless the Dioctyl® poo-softener capsules! Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit! Well pleased!

 I had a concentrated blast on updating the Monday IT blog. Accepting no interruptions for tea brewing, and fortunately, the wee-weeing seemed to have dried up? I should drink more.

Anne Gyna and Back-pain-Brenda both got less severe, but Duopdenal Donald started off. Can’t win ’em all!

It took three hours, but I got the updating finished and posted off to WordPress. Pinterested, a few shots, Emailed the link, and then I did some Facebooking catch-up.

Doing this, I got messages first from Norton. I needed attention: back-up, Vin and Security issues. I clicked on the amend buttons, and things seem alright now, I’ve got the green light on again? Then dropbox alerted me. I followed their instructions.

Closed the window (It said I can) while it worked, and had a peek at the feet, cause the ankle ulcer was tingling a bit. I’m not surprised, it looked to me as if it was moving up the leg, and had s new growth coming up on it?

Did another graphics, and checked on the closed window thingy for Dropbox. And it was still working away?

Then I went on the WordPress Reader to catch up on that.

Oh, blimey, it’s getting late! Better get a quickie ablutions session done! Even though I rushed at it (No shower), there was only eight dropsies and two tiny shaving cuts. No dizzies, but I did bash my shoulder on the door frame coming out afterwards. Another pretty good event!

I came to the front room (I haven’t got a back one, Hehe!), and thought I’d have a few nuts to nibble. Could I find them? No! Well, not least not for ages spent searching and looking in the most stupid places for the pot. I found cunningly hiding in plain view, in front of the TV. Harrumph!

I hope to catch the bus to Sherwood after the Morrison delivery has arrived and been sorted. But my EQ is telling things will not go well? Then I had a look on the web, an email had come in from Morrisons.

They’ve done it again. There were many missing and substituted items again. With my arithmophobia and dyscalculia, I can’t tell if I’ve been overcharged or not. But the total has been lowered, then again, I bought a lot of stuff on offer? Every order they do this to me. I’m cheesed of with them.

I went out on the balcony and took a photo of the sky towards the West, showing balconies of some the flats. Seconds later, the red bits in the clouds were masked, and it went dark, I felt certain that it was going to rain, but it hasn’t yet. I just thought you’d like to know, like.

I did a few more small trash bags up, and put them with the others in the big box, waiting to go to the rubbish chute. Then I was about to nip out to the lift lobby but stopped myself when I realised that the Morrison delivery driver may press the intercom at any time. Not that they have ever come on time, not for the last three deliveries anyway. With my luck, if I had gone out, they would have come at that time. Of course, they didn’t arrive again until after the given hour with the slot. So, I still don’t know if the workers have blocked the exit or not yet. This might prove a problem when the goods do arrive. Assuming they will get here eventually.

I see that ‘Grammarly’ have started doing automatic Spelling and Grammar checks now. I like it!

10:15hrs: The Morrison order has not arrived. It states clearly on the email, 09:00 > 10:00 hrs! Last delivery I had from them, I rang the company, and a recorded message told me… “You can rest assured that if we are delayed for any reason, you will be informed and told a new ETA” Rollocs! That one arrived 2½hrs late, and I didn’t hear anything from Morrisons!

Now, here I am stupid enough to give them another order! What an Eizel, Luftmensh, I am!

Found the latest Coronavirus figures for Nottingham.

There I was, waiting patiently, and keeping up a semi-spirited outlook on things, despite Morrisons best efforts to get me all hot and bothered with their stupid substitutions on the way. And my £889, Nokia 8.3 5G, with 171.9 x 78.56 x 8.99mm, 220g Side fingerprint scanner, and Google Assistant button, Punch hole camera, LCD 21:9, 60Hz, and 6.81-inch display, rang. Chortle! Giggle!

It was the omnipresent Obergruppenführeress, ILC, Warden, and Pole Dancer, Deana. Inquiring if I had a Morrison order coming today, (The heart sank). Apparently, my super-big order, the one with the unwanted substitutions I wanted to return; Had been delivered to Winchester Court, not Woodthorpe! Flibblegonkackles Glibblebonks! Globdanglesods! Spurgledamnations! and Hogglebogwash!

Perhaps the signs are not large enough at five-storeys high and ten-foot wide? I’ll ask Nottingham City Homes Generalfeldmarschalless Housing Patch Manager/ Catwalk Model, Angela Gould if we change the signs with added flashing lights in heliotrope and silver, and an arrow with Morrison in it, on the rooftops of each Court? Fernacklcumps!

Deana said she would bring the shopping to me. Bless Her ♥ Deana and Sturmscharführeress Catwalk Model, Warden Julie soon arrived at the flat with the belated, much-travelled Morrison order for me. Bless their cotton socks! ♥.They even brought them inside for me. I thanked them graciously, and off back to work they poddled.

The unwanted and overpaid for substituted foodstuffs, I thought Jenny’s friends who she helps could use. So I put the other stuff away, and made a carrier with the strawberry trifles, Curry flavoured pot noodles, a can of Posh Perry for Nora some other bits in it, and called to explain why I was coming down to ring on her bell. We had a good chinwag, which is always nice.

I got the box full of bags taken with me and visited the waste-chute on the way. Then down in an elevator to Jenny’s level, and put the bag outside her door, rang her bell, and had a problem turning the trolley around, and bashed my ankle-ulcer on the wheel arch, that steadied me up a bit! Jenny appeared at the door, had a look at the goods and declared they could all be made us of for someone worse off than us. That’s Jenny! ♥

Getting a lift back u[p was a smidge farcical. I ended up going down, ended up on the ground floor. But the bonus was meeting a tenants daughter and Francis and having a little natter. (Silver Lining!)

I eventually got back up to the flat and was feeling a little drained. And got on with prepping a meal. I used a can of Chilli-Con-Carne and added some gravy, Balsamic vinegar, mild chilli seasoning. Chopped some tomatoes, (A little cut) to it as well. I tried a taste, I feared it may be a tad too hot for my liking, should have left off adding the chilli powder, methinks.

On a low heat, and updated this blog, in between going to stir the fodder in the saucepan.

I put the waste from the cooking, into a little bag, and started to fill the box again.

Well tired now, I’d been up for about 13 hours or so. I concentrated on getting the meal right from then on. Turned off the computer, I can catch up on things later or in the morning. At least Anne Gyna was easing off nicely. (Thanks, Anne!) Not BPB, though, I think I may have to see the quack about her. But she started after the tumble on the wet-room, so might ease off later on. (And pigs might fly!)

I had a little review of today, Whoopsiedangleplop-wise for a moment or two… Up until the Morrison disaster, things were going well, apart from BPB giving me permanent, persistent pain, of course.

I got the Irish soda bread out. A messy crumbly feast to eat. Hahaha! Not a delicate or dainty taste, of a mealy texture, but tasty, and highly suitable for soaking up the Chilli gravy. A first-class, nonpareil, supreme loaf and depositor of crumbs on the recliner, carpet, and in my stomach folds!

I ate half of the small sliced loaf of bread with the chilli-con-carne. It was at my limit for hotness, but this didn’t stop me enjoying it, and granting a flavour-rating of 8.5/10!

Undoubtedly, one of the best Chillies I’ve had so far. As you can see by how the tray looked as I took it away to soak overnight in suds and bleach in the sink.

I got stripped (the thought makes me cringe) and settled in the c1968 recliner, in search of sleep. I’d hoped putting on the TV would have a somniferous effect, but no! The thought-storms in my hypnagogia began, and the debitage of my life, the failures, the mistakes, guilt and fears, cascaded around in my head.

The  Egads, there was a mangled, menagerie of mentalese memories in there. That I could well have done without remembering!

Inchcockski -Tuesday 17th November 2020: A cheerless, chagrined, challengingly, changeable day.

TFZers at the Cottage ♥

Tuesday 17th November 2020

Estonian: Teisipäev, 17 November 2020

23:35hrs: I stirred back into mock-life, frit myself as I passed an involuntary eruption of flatulence and in a hurried kerfuffle, I got my mahoosive, wobbly-bellied body out of the recliner, and straight towards the wet room, in an urgent need of the Porcelain Throne. (Not catching by balance first or taking Metal Mickey with me  – but I got away with it, Phew!)

I got in the wet-room post-haste, without any falls, bags or dizzies. Whipped off the PP’s and once again the movement stopped of its own accord, seemed to get stuck, and I reached for the crossword book. But a minute or so later, it started again, eagerly! The complete evacuation was over in about a minute!

But the Dioctyl® capsules seem to be working more effectively against Constipation Konrad this time. I’d say it was a 2-0 win against Trotsky-Terence this morning. A messy affair mind, I had to clean up, and the product produced needed a refill or two from the sink, to clear things away. Hey-Ho! The most important thing at the time, was it was far-less painful, and only a few specs of Harold Haemorrhoid’s blood.

Panicky waking moments to the day, but the pleasure of the release from pain made up for it, and I was almost chuffed for once. But resisted going into a Smug-Mode yet, knowing my luck this cannot last for long. Hehehe!

After taking the photo of the tank being refilled (Not a bad job that, with the right hand as well) Go on then, into Smug-Mode. I notice that for some unknown reason, the right arm was much redder, than the rest of my body? I took this snap of it, I don’t know why.

Then, I had a wash and antisepticised the touch-areas, and off to the front room to get the Health Checks done. The Boot’s old type BP sphygmomanometer read 61 for the SYS, which was fair enough, I thought, certainly lower than the previous few days. Smug-Mode retained!

The body temperature was also okay.

I did not take the morning medications, because I found the pot with the evening tablets still in it. (Oh, things might be returning to usual here!) I’ll take the morning ones later on when the Warfarin has had time to weaken as they are digested. I can’t remember why, but some iota of memory told me to.

I went to check that I’d not left the tap running again, (I do that sometimes yer know, Humph!) and took this slightly moody but half-decentish shot of the morning view of the sky and sleeping population’s dwellings, houses, flats, apartments, alleyways. There are even two manufacturing businesses out there still trading!

 Not all of them will be kipping, the NHS staff will be risking their lives coping with the Coronavirus pandemic, delivery persons out and about. Burglars, muggers and drug-dealers, naturally! Not forgetting the uniformed Nottingham City Policemen, I should think that half of the force would be out there somewhere. But I couldn’t spot either of them. Hahahaha!

I got on with the need to get some templates made up, I was well behind with everything with all yesterday evenings interruptions. It took me about four hours to get them all finished, and I was beginning to feel a bit drained.

I think the Furesomides were working well too, I needed to have repeated wee-wees throughout the session. Altogether, they would not have filled the kettle, they were dribbling weak efforts. So, I made the first mug of Glengettie of the day and returned to the computer.

I made up a few graphics to go on the templates, and finished yesterdays blog, got it posted off, Pinterested a few snaps, and caught up with Facebooking. Went on the WordPress Reader, then I answered some comments from my cyber-friends.

I made a late breakfast, very nice too! But couldn’t eat it all.

Checked on the Google Calendar, that Morrison’s are delivering today, twixt 13:00 > 14:00 hrs. When they have arrived, if I am still got some mental and physical energy left, I must make one up for next week, if I can get a delivery slot, that is.

I stopped to get the Ablutions done. A stand-up job with it being too early to use the noisy shower. It well as smoothly as it has done for weeks. But, Gawd knows how, but I forgot to have a shave? I’ll tend to it later, Tsk!

The body was extremely ashen again, but the feet were still much less affected by the saying off, it seems, ulcers and papules?

Hello, off to the Porcelain Throne again. A repeat performance of the last one, but no bleeding this time. Good, innit?

I made another brew of tea, Thompsons Punjana this time, and tool the belated morning medications.

Around 0740hrs, a call came in on the landline—a recorded message, from a fast-talking, none-stopping female. I could make very little out of what she was saying, but I did pick-up; the word Prime, and £79 something from your account? Help!

I attempted to make an order for Iceland for next week. But had to settle for one for next Friday 20th, between 08:00 >10:00. No Chilli Con Carne, but I tried some meatballs in BBQ gravy instead.

Then, I had a look at what Morrison slots were available. Bit of luck, I got one for next Tuesday! 0900>1000hrs!

All sorted out, pleased now that no more hassle, mind you, today’s Morrison one hasn’t arrived yet, better say nowt!

I got the waste-bags made up, and got them In a box on the three-wheeler. A bit of a struggle to get it out of the door, but I coped – the scrape on the back of the hand against the door frame is nothing to a man like me. Ahem!

I went back to check on the spuds in the slow cooker, also to check I’d not left anything on that shouldn’t be, like heat or the taps) Not confident? Me? Hah! You’re right!

I got to and in the waste-room, put all the bags down the chute, came out, backwards, and to the lift. As I was awaiting the arrival of the cage, it dawned on me, I’d not banged or walked into anything, and the ailments were no bother, Zilch hassle! Very worrying!

I got down to Jenny’s floor, and there were no shoes outside the flat. So, no point in pressing the bell, so I put the carrier on the floor and back to the elevator, which soon arrived, and down to the ground floor with the recycle box atop the three-wheeler trolley walker.

This top photograph shows the view of the lift lobby as I got out of the cage!

I poddled along to the end on the corridor, see here in all it’s majesticness and splendour. It’s been so long since I’ve escaped the 12th-floor

I turned right into the main lobby, and out to temporary freedom, to get the cardboard and plastic in the green bin.

I turned around and had a lookup to the left along Chestnutnut Walk, then ahead of the car park and the gravel hill path up into Woodthorpe Grange Park.

I took a picture each turn I made, left, across and to the right, they are all on that order on the right here.

Nice to get out and do some photography after such a long time.

But I could not take too long, as the Sainsbury order delivery time hour is three hours away, and I have to get back up in case they phone up, or the intercom goes off.

The three frames all have something other in common, other than they are all of Chestnut Walk – they are all barren of any tellurians as far as I could see, a lonely, sad sight this site! Hehehe!

I swiped myself into the lobby doors, with there odd bits of stuck on notices about the works and Coronavirus, and sticking half-way open door. Struggled a bit top get the front wheel of the trolley-walker-guide over the raised grippers on the floor.

I got in and had a perusal of the notice come blackboard that was not black. A whiteboard I think, with the rub-outability function for marker pens, to see what I’d been missing.

It was advising the tenants on the lower floors the lockdown will turn into a lock-in on odd days, while they lay the new lift lobby flooring on their levels.

I bet someone will come out and tread in the setting cement again. Haha!

I meandered through and into the ground floor lift lobby. I did see the odd harassed looking worker rushing about while I waited, but no tenants anywhere whatsoever.

It’s a good social life here, you know!

I was taking this photographicalisation of the electronic notice board, and the lift cage arrived – no one in it to chat or say good morning to.

I was soon back up in the cell… I mean, flat.

I put the guide away in the corner and had a little natter with Scruffy and Katie.

My pets, don’t you know! Donated to me Scruffy from Canada and Koala Kate from Australia TFZers after I’d had the stroke. Bless them! ♥ Makes me so cared for that did, all those miles away, not surprising I love em!

Jenny rang to tell me off for leaving the treats for her, Doris, Frank or their charities as she wanted to,  at her flat door. We hat a natter which was super, but I was wary of not hearing the intercom in case the Morrison delivery arrived. But it worked out well, just as she rang off, the intercom came to life!

I met the man at the door, and he proceeded to put the goods into the box, and bag for me. Slipped him a can of Vodka and lime, and dragged the folder into the kitchen to sort them out. Well, what crap substitutions again!

It looks like they have made money out of me according to how it reads above? Swine! Gits! Basta… Never mind! I got some terrible substitutes. Gin & lemon – I got Gin & tonic, Red Potatoe battered cakes, I get the McCains salt and pepper chips again, which are crap-tasteless! Shaving foam, Chilli con Carne subs.

But the daftest thing was my own fault. I really thought I had ordered a pack of six salt & black pepper rolls, Hehehe! Each roll was like a small loaf! I thought Jenny would be able to use them for someone, so I rang her and took them down to her flat.

Then got the stuff put away.

Peed off now at me, that is the third time I’m tried to order the

Battered sweet red potatoes from Morrisons this year, and every time they have subbed the totally not red potatoes, not battered either, shit McCains salt and black pepper pathetic crap… crap… crap!

Still, it doesn’t bother me too much. Huh!

I finished hoarding the unwanted goods, swearing and name-calling verbally at Morrisons, last week it was Sainsbury’s. Globranglings!

I had no choice other than to throw the shit-chips away or eat them, so I abandoned my plans for a CCC (Chilli-Con-Carne) and got the sickening tasting, soggy, bland, crap, rubbish unwanted McCains chips, substituted for Sweet Potato cakes in batter, in the oven.

While they were cooking, I took these three zoomed-in pictures from the unwanted, unlike, light and view-blocking new kitchen.

The top one should have shown you a Christmas tree-lights. But, in my usual Cock-it-up fashion, it came out all horrible and unclear. (I’m good at taking photographs like this. Hehe!)

I burnt a finger-knuckle getting the Morrison’s sickeningly imitation, pretend, substitute for Sweet potatoes in the batter. And got the sordid, bland, gunk of kak, chips, I wouldn’t have anything else with them, knowing they would only taint anything else on the plate with their disgusting sweet sickly flavour.

I got some of the Milk Roll loaf bread, (Oh, a thank you to Morrisons for having some Milk Roll in stock, and not substituting with nail polish, or firelighters, nice one, cheers!) and I put a drop of BBQ sauce in the dish, to try and mask the taste of the chips a bit. But that was a Morrison own-label brand sauce, that made things worse!

The garbage-chips looked as bad as they tasted. Very grim! No flavour rating is given unless something like ‘Flavour Rating: Minus 10’ would be grammatically correct? I only ate a few of them, gooey chips, flavourless apart from the black pepper, the sauce was probably made from bleach and drain cleaner, and I went into a nasty, wanting revenge mood!

When I’d got the cleaning up and the ablutions all done, (although no shave again?) I got down to watch the TV, but I knew I would not need this medium tonight for flaking-out into the arms of Sweet Morpheus, I was drained, the eyelids were drooping. I needed something to satisfy my unhealthy morbidity, frustrations with nothing going right, and temporarily bring some good thoughts into my grey-cell box.

  I did imagine I was a Mafia-boss and was making plans of attacking Morrisons and Sainsburys, to get revenge for the way they have treated me this past two weeks. But guilt, and certainty that I was losing-it, stopped my progress, and Morpheus arrived to enfold me in sweet peace. 

I woke an hour or so later, and was sure I heard music? But I didn’t even bother to do my usual hunt around when I’m woken by these unknown clatters or bangs, for fear of something had fallen, or leaked, or whatever, to cause the sound. I was not interested. 

But, could I get back to sleep? No! Soddit! Grumbleackers!