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My concentration is degenerating into tabefaction. I was chatting away with Carer Joanne while she got the medications sorted, and I lost what I was talking about in a flash – twice! Then, later, as I was paying a visit to the 
, nothing moved, no motion, 
was in full control – absolute control. I sat and waited, counting the cracks in the ceiling (23), had a bash at the crossword puzzle (Got one answer), and as I gave up and stood up, I knocked the olive oil bottle, and it fell straight into the WC! Yes, I think I may have sworn… but not as much as I did two minutes later. Using the picker-upperer to get the Protection Pants back up, I tore them at the seam. I got a fresh pair out of the bag and started to carefully get them on, not easy as it took place mid-way through the procedure. But, no falls, no injuries, no harm. I got the pants in position and sorted the leg bag into position, and I seem to remember thinking to myself, at the time, ‘Well, that went well. ‘Fatal!’ I should have known better with my luck! I turned to leave, and I walked into the bloody doorframe again! Hitting it right where I’d had the Covid jab inserted! I cursed so angrily at myself; there was phlegm coming out of my mouth, and the pain seemed a second consideration; my first one was to curse my luck… several times and with a wide variety of self-vituperation & condemnation-led foul mutterings. Acrimoniousness, blasphemy & self- malignity! I was so angry at myself that I felt guilty and foolish a minute or so later – what if someone had heard me? Oh, dearie me!
No wonder I want someone to adopt me as a grandad!
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A smidge darker this jolly morning.
A jolly mug of Glengettie for me. I pathetically knocked it over in a Shaking Shaun second; Humph!
Made another.
Morning’s first photo.
The scab is breaking up slowly. I think some will be missing by tomorrow morning. I mustn’t pick at it!
As wot I wrote in the prologue.
Fresh leg bag on after ablutioning.
Second external photo.
I’ve been blogging with more mistakes than I could count for three more hours to put things right that I got wrong, I hope!
Carer Shaquille, then Carer Joanne.
Emptying the Catheter Day Bag.
I swear it was bubbling. Hehe!
Third window shot, beautiful clouds.
AGAIN!
Later on, clouds again.
Plenty of things in these, I see,
A duck, fish and a bee,
And a sun so shiny!
Tore the PPs. As already mentioned above.
Carer Victor. Did his BP, good result.
SYS 110 – DIA 73 -Pulse 93 – TEMP 34.3°c.
More figures in this wonderful photo of the clouds from the kitchenette window.
I got it! But it took me far more than 3 seconds!
It’s late now, very late. I better save the blog, switch off, and get a meal sorted out. I’ll do the catch-up in the morning. Back later! Well, I hope I will. Haha!
Contrails in the sky… or are they?
It was a lovely meal. Lamb and mutton burgers were eaten on thin slices of milk roll bread, dunked in ketchup with pickle. Nice UK tomatoes and crinkle-cut chips! A pot of mandarins in jelly eaten for afters. Nice!
I took this shot of the sky as I washed the pots up, and then I settled down to watch Death Wish 3 on the TV. I managed to stay awake throughout the movie, even during the advertisements. I dozed off as it was finishing. I’d forgotten how far-fetched yet almost amusing this film was. I like it when the goodies win. A fantasy, of course.
Got in the hospital bed. But sleep was not coming, although I felt tired and drained. After an hour of trying to kip, I got up and fetched a cold drink from the fridge.
Took this early morning photo.
And got back into the bed.
Within a few minutes – Zzz!.
TTFNski, each
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Or it might have been Carer Victor or Israel. Erm, if I remember correctly, I’ll reveal it all on Monday.
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It was not an extraordinary sort of day, with a few intermittent happenings that were out of the ordinary. I can’t recall having a single 
, no, honestly! A carer failed to arrive for the midday checks, which was not all that unexpected; last Monday, a morning medication Carer failed to arrive. The ailments and injuries were, as usual, ever-present.
, or of course it may have been 
, added up to three. This seems to be the agreed count these last few days, with my brain taking over masters 
in conjunction.
For some unknown reason, the burn on the right hand of the oven rack is taking a while to stop being painful. Constipation Conrad is back in charge of the evacuations. My concentration is no worse than yesterday. Not that that’s saying much. I think Concentration Konrad is now a permanent fixture. He joins the other ailments as a part of the Mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind, which is losing its marbles?
. 
I think I saw a speck of blood in the bag this morning when I photo’d it. Likely, it’s just a reflection from the flash, I assumed?
Much drizzle is out there from the balcony’s right window. The usual excellent parking is available from our senior citizens on the yellow chevrons, indicating, do not park here. I’m not jealous that the drivers can still afford to own one. Or that my licence had to be surrendered due to the ailments making me unsafe on the roads. 
Har, Har! 
Boy, I’ve waffled on here! Sorry.
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Pants and slippers on again, I meandered out onto the balcony. The rain was still pouring down.
snaps. They were not very good, taken through the window glass. 
There followed an almost rapid selection of 
I caught the hand in the window closing it, right on the burn scar, which naturally made me jump away… 
dressing gown when cleaning things up. Humph!
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To the rescue again. He found the hearing aids within minutes. He’s a very good ferriter. While he was searching, he spotted some biscuits, and he had to have a packet. Hehehe! They had dropped behind the rickety 1962 G-Plan cabinet, and he retrieved them for me. Saved again! 
The evening sky kept changing hue. Well, I thought it did, anyway. Of course, what my eyes see and you may not do… 
vegetable dumpling stew… mixed, unclear and lumpy.
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gave way again. She’s getting cunning nowadays… gone are the sharp pre-warning pains that used to give me a chance to get some support held on to. Now, she just collapses. Little Madam!
It’s a decent colour this morning.
Off to get the 
done.
Personal Medications carried out. (Ouch!)
Creamed the Excema and acne.
Is that a bit of red eye, I see, now?
Snap from the kitchenette window.
Waste bags sorted.
The new second-hand used bed. I was taking this photo when it rang out from the front door. A chap walked in from the Red Cross, the people who kindly delivered the bed for me with a no-fall bar to be fitted to the bed. They have sent one for a different bed to this one. It would not work. He said he’d tell them to see if he could get a bar fitted later for me. It can’t be helped
Getting lighter now, much later than usual.
arrived. I eventually got a signal that stayed on for more than three minutes. Two hours and a lot of lost work later, the 
Liberty-Global total had risen to
I was infuriated and pissed off, and the signal suddenly stayed on. Well, for a while. At least. But my confidence was lacking.
I got the largest of the baking potatoes from the pack. 
Now, this confused me greatly.
evacuations for at least two weeks and have been taking the above capsules daily. The bubbling and agitations within the bowels continued, but not the faintest sign of any movement? 
I gave it plenty of time. I even counted the cracks in the ceiling and had a go at the crossword puzzle, but nothing came out, not even any wind! Yet I still have the sensation from within, all the usual signs, rumbling, grumblings and pressure from the innards, forewarning me of a rear-end tsunami being imminent.
Came, and I gave up on computing altogether.
putting the Germolene on the burnt fingers cause I knew there was more to burn. 
Then, I added some Squid sea salt. Spirit vinegar and a smidgeon of.
Arrived. I asked him to take the laundry with him, specifically asking him to make sure that it was well-dried, as the quilts would be needed for the new bed
Wobbled?
Wobbled!
And, again, Wobbled!
It’s an even closer effort. Wobbles!
A half-decent one at last! Haha!
Easy one this time, wasn’t it?
of 
that felt much worse than ever now
The brain failed to fully engage! For I somehow found myself in the spare room sorting out the bag for Independent Living Coordinator, Warden, and desk-top dancer, Obersturmbannfuhreress Deana. Wondering why I’d done this before having a wee-wee or even putting the kettle on to make a brew of tea confused me. (Doreen?)
I had a wee-wee and checked on Little Inches fungal lesion (itching a bit). But it was not bleeding, I just cleaned things up and applied some teeth-grindingly painful ointment to the affected area. Argh!
mentally crippling at times today. So annoyingly so, as well.
The SYS was not too bad. Pulse at 90, up a bit.
Humph! I did drop the darned BP machine as I was putting it away! Tried it out again, nervous of it being 
buggered, but it worked okay. Used the Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer. The surface temperature read as 34.5°c. A bit higher this time. Good!
05:45hrs: As I got up to go for a wee-wee, right-loud clunking noises came from the flat above! I think Herbert must have had an Accifauxpa of his own. Didn’t bother me, mind; I was up anyway. I don’t think it was loud enough to be heard by anyone else who might have been trying to sleep. Not that the sanctified, consecrated, uncommunicative, ascetic, aloof, sniffy Herbert would be bothered.
Around 06:00hrs, I spotted the moon through the balcony doors, peeping through the thick clouds. So I searched and found the Canon camera, which I’d left on top of the microwave, and spent some time taking many 
snaps of the moon. Determined to try and get some decent ones this time.
that came out fairy acceptablyish. At least, I hope so.
The landline flashed and rang. It was from Natalie of the Health 7 Social Care team, called Meridian. To explain to me that they (Meridian) had had another no show, and my Carer should arrive by 09:00hrs. Nay fuss! Fair enough, at least they let me know.
Carer Elena arrived and looked after me in a caring and attentive way. (I loved that! Hehehe!) She had been called out to cover for the absentee. Elena Took the waste bags to the shute on her way out for me.
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To done-in mentally to do any more blogging now. I got the ablutions tackled. Aye… Worra good session it wor! One little cut shaving, a very minor toe-stubbing, and no falls, walking into anything either! Medicated, refreshed, into the new PPs, night attire donned, and off to get summat to eat.
The thud, thudding started from above, so at least I know Herbert hasn’t snuffed it. Shame!
My only success of the day… Cheesy baked potatoes and sausages. Sound like nothing special? But I altered the recipe I usually use to make these treats this time.
Only a few wakings up during the night. I’m well pleased with that, but, on the fifth…
I more or less sort of bolted into wakefulness. Full of misapprehension, a muddled state of mind, and in desperate need of a wee-wee! Don’t know why I mentioned it now. Although it’s been this way for over a week now…
Then, an explosion of gas had burst free! Obviously, I didn’t see it, but I got the feeling that it had caused ripples on the water in the bowl. Instant relief of the pains! Within seconds a mammoth, rock-solid torpedo slowly, very slowly forced its way out, hitting the water before it was entirely out of the bum?
There was no discomfort with it at all? AS I stood up, the stool moved, and splash and clunk were heard… well, I think they did. No mess whatsoever. Mind you, there wouldn’t have room alongside that missile!
Got a good wash and beclothed my body. I went to make a brew of tea. 
One of the pictures came out in a different size to the others? 
My progress on blogging has never been harder work than it is today. I am so frustrated.
I made a meal of sorts, potatoes, a small microwave BBQ burger, and a lemon cheesecake. Nowt fancy, but I needed rest and sleep so much by then. Still, I did enjoy it, such as it was. Taste-Rating: 7.5/10.
Half-an-hour later, ♫ Oh Susana ♫ rang out as the Carer entered the flat. Carer Fria Freestone, at least I think it was. Fria soon got the medications sorted in a matter of fact way; she chose her treat; drink (Tequila) and nibble (Easter egg), and was soon off, bless her.
Around 03:10hrs, I woke for the umpteenth time – I urgently needed to utilise the Porcelain Throne. Again, as I got up quickly, Dizzy Dennis visited me, but I didn’t fall back into the rickety recliner this morning. That must have pleased Harold’s Haemorrhoids; it did me, that Germoloid Cream is not cheap, you know!) However, I stubbed my right big toe on the doorframe going into the wet room… Which is better than clouting my shoulder on the doorframe!
Unfortunately, the evacuation was another loose, splotchy, messy affair. But not as bad as yesterday morning. I withheld going into a Smug-Mode, all the same.
Back to the main room. And as I got some clothes on, I chatted with my family, of fun furries. (Sweetly supplied my HRH Lisa, in the USA♥). They and even I seemed in a decent mood for once.
I got the kettle on and went to do the sphygmomanometerisationing, etc. The temperature first came out at 34.4°c. 93.92°f. I checked on Mr Google, who told me: “
wonder if I’ve got it wrong somehow? Hey-Ho! Confusion Conrad with me again. 
was 171/65, but I didn’t feel poorly. The last thing I need is another stroke. Mind you, I’m not all the tickled pink with losing my eyesight and teeth. The hearing is virtually gone, anyway. Innit a life! 
But I refused to wash or medicate Little Inchies fungal lesion with the darned, Oh sp painful Daktacort. This obviously is because it’s as disheartening as owt I’ve had! And my being a namby-pamby sissy, left it until later. Tsk!
I nearly made a cock-up, and took one of the capsules from Amazon that Esther said help you sleep better. They work for her brother, I think she told me. I got two bottles, one for Carer Richard, who mentioned when I told him of my waking up at night lately that he is suffering the same thing. But we must not take any in the morning, just at night to help us stay nodded-off! Har-har! Nice to be able to help out with him being a good lad.
Richard departed sooner than Herbert kicked off with his 
tapping and banging. On and off all morning, but not too bad.
Back to the kitchen, I made a brew of Glengettie tea and had four chocolate biscuits with it at the computer as I pressed on, slowly getting the blog prepared. I made the top graphic for Bill and Lisa. I hope they like it. Oh, and took this photo above of the dank morning view.
Norton had taken over the Google Home page… I’d lost the favourites bar from the screen, and somehow, Gawd knows what I did in those few uncontrollable seconds, but I lost access to WordPress altogether! 
Again, not a fancy meal, but more than adequate for an old Nottinghamian with vascular dementia, a high heart rate, and losing the plot. 
A bit of luxury, then. I put the TV on to watch a football match while eating the meal on the tray, balancing on my bulbous, adipose, abdominous, wobbly, far-too-large stomach.
You know that sometimes, Vascular Dementia Doreen can bring forth an amusing little Whoopsiedangleplop or Accifauxpas. That does little harm, and even to me afterwards, as in this instance, can bring forth mirth and the odd self-chuckle! Although stubbing my right big toe while bending to search under the cabinet for skedaddled garden peas was a little painful.
Then, I remembered to take one of the new CBD Pure Hemp capsules. I’m hoping they will help with the recent lousy nights of sleep. I’ve been waking up, anything up to twelve times a night, and occasionally more often. Almost jumping or jerking awake. Fingers crossed! But the nurse said that it will take a few days to have any effect.
The capsules are transparent, and the contents look a little like tobacco, or maybe cannabis? Either way, the capsule slipped down easily enough. They are very light, which made me think they may be difficult to swallow, but, no problem. On this first one anyway! Hopefully, in a few days, I can find some proper undisturbed nights of rest? 🙏
03:45hrs: I stirred into an unwilling simulation of life, and immediately the wee-wee demands arrived. This time, I was careful in my manipulations at getting out of the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working recliner. That’s the uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner. That xyrophobia-suffering, chaetophorous, anti-epilation Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward. And he fitted new CCTC cameras, then searched for my valuables, which he found and took. (I still haven’t got all of the money back yet, nine-months later). 
New PP’s, a wash of the hands, that encapsulated my dropping the soap at least three times! Yes, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were playing up a tad already. This didn’t bode well for any physical tasks, making the meals or decent typing for today. But, you never know with my ailments, many come and go at their leisure for varying lengths of time. The important thing, was no Dizzy Dennis, Saccades Sandra, Anne Gyna, Reflux Roger, Shuddering Shoulders Shirley, Toothache Tim, Earache Eric, or Memory blanks had been of any bother, yet. Even Arthur Itis and Duodenal Donald were only playing at it this morning. The toes and feet were, of course, making up for the absence of effort from their fellow ailments. Hahaha! 
I went on Facebooking, The Troll Free Zone, then the Winwood Heights page.
I gingerly made another brew, to replace the one that had gone cold. My brain was working well again because I remembered to make and take some Macrogol powder, to tackle Constipation Conrad’s resistance to movement. 
As I went to close the thick-framed, letting-in-rain, light & view-blocking kitchen window, I thought I heard some weird grinding noise from I knew not where. I took a blind shot of Chestnut walk below, but there were no signs of anything that might have made the sound I heard? 
All done, and I am astoundingly, mind-bogglingly amazed! No, I say, No toe-stubbing, No knocking anything off of the shelves, no sock-glide battle (fair enough, I’m still not wearing socks cause of long nails), only two tiny nicks shaving, and only four dropsies. A safety record for ablutionalisationing that will never be beaten, indeed?
Got the meal prepped and served up, into the recliner, got the headphones (I’ve taped them up so I can still them, but they are not functioning properly since I sat on them and broke them. Humph). Still, better than nothing. I thought I’d coped well with the preparations and serving, and by the time I was ready to take the tray through, there were many odd bits and sploshes all over the kitchen that will need cleaning up later. Gnash-and-spit! 
04:50hrs: I woke, and within seconds of attempting to encourage my brain to join me in activating, the need for a wee-wee appeared. I removed my overly-stomached torso from the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly-foul beige coloured, none-working rickety recliner; and limped, literally, to the GPEWWB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Wee-Wee-Bucket) and got two shocks at the same time, no, three actually! Tsk! 
As I began to appreciate the lack of much bother from Duodenal Donald and conceded that the toenails and Arthur Itis were going to be today’s top-dog ailments. (They gave it away by being so painful, Hehe!) 
I went to the wet room, taking care not to stub the overly-long-nailed toes. I washed things up, put the jammie-bottoms in the bucket to soak, and had a stand-up wash and shave. Again surprises, Nicodemus’s visit ended, (It’s going to be a start-stop day methinks). And hardly any dropsies at all! Just the razor (2), and the 
toothpaste! It was a confusing start to the day. With merit points, and the usual Whoopsiedangleplops.It looked like the reactions to the Clopidogrel is returning again on both legs and feet.
Then the intercom rang and lit up. It was the Iceland delivery that had arrived. The same chap as yesterday, I think. I pointed out the can pf G & T the side for him in thanks. Off he trotted, and I got the bags indoors, and to the kitchen. 
A lot of stuff to find room for again. Amongst them were some new salt & vinegar flavoured Fish Chunks, if all goes well today, I plan to have some of these, with potatoes, tomatoes and sugar snap peas. That’s the plan anyway. Getting the things away was a battle and-a-half! They had sent some of the Naturally Imperfect chips as well, so I made a point of making room for them in the freezer, at the cost of dishing some bits to make room for them. 
I got some of the potatoes in the sizeable crock-pot cooking. A bit of sea salt and vinegar added.
I cleaned it up alright but getting my stomach-dominated bulk back up on my feet, was no easy feat! Gawd knows how long it took me. I ended up crawling on my knees to the side counter, (it’s easier to grab hold of) and hauled myself up, on the third attempt, and much silent howling and cursing, back into a semi-perpendicular position. 
I tried to look on the bright side, but it was difficult with the tears running from the eyes… only joking! 
I made a brew and checked the potatoes in the big slow-cooker. They were still rock-hard! A shame that. I made sure they were on the high setting.
Maybe today, I can get some graphic done on CorelDraw for the posts? 
She took it to deliver to a homeless shelter charity who care for street sleepers. I thanked her for her kindness, and off she flew. Bless her cotton socks! 
They even supplied a mass of paperwork with them. Some coronavirus advice, and must and mustn’t doe’s check-list. 
I went to check on the spuds progress. Coming on alright. I got the thighs on the plate and added tomatoes, a Marmite cheese medallion and silverskin onions. The slow-cooker cooked potatoes were great tasting, I added some splashes of Hoisin sauce on them. A small can of garden peas as well. The orange kindly donated on my food parcel was almost juiceless. The fowl were not very flavoursome at all. Overall the meal as good, all the same. The Muller light lemon yoghourt and the Clementine drink were lip-smacking good, as usual. An 8.8/10 for Taste rating! 
I was gobsmacked at the evacuation. It was all over in a couple of minutes, and nowhere near as bloody as yesterday. It’s still a bit painful mind. Well-pleased with this start to the day, I took a photo of the pale pins (legs) but found that Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were on strike again, and this time the shaking and lack of sense of touch contact, were minuscule. Hence, the picture was blurry, not a good one! It seemed like and felt to me, that they might be just coming back on-line. 
As I made my way, cursing the pain from the toenails, into the kitchen, RAI (Rheumatoid Arthur Itis) began, what was to be a day-long session of giving me and my knees a lot of grief! However, Duodenal Donald, although still with me, was vastly less bothersome. Swings and roundabouts? 
I made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea. Got the medications out and taken, and spent a few moments ponderisationing on the day’s expectancies. I find myself in a q
The mobile phone rang out, it was on well, and genuinely ancient, 1965 Hopewells E-Plan, worn, pot-marked, desk close to me, and the noise made me jump. Hehehe
Shame about the changes, no Imperfect Chips in stock, my favourites as well, am I lucky or what? Tsk! 
I didn’t get far, I forgot about the ablutions, so tended to them. Well, they went well for a change again! The dropsies added up to only four! Brilliant! The toothbrush, the soap, the showerhead and the body spray can. I did well there! No, knocking anything over or off of owt, no toe-stubbings either! Smugeth Mode Engaged!
The old ankle ulcer was prominent again and developed a gorgeous light brown colour instead of its usual blue-red shade. The veins were bulging a tad.
inside. 
fodder about to take this photo of them all. As I began to put the items away, the first thing that came to mind was tonight’s nosh. I decided to try the pork and caramelised sausages, and make some imitation hot dogs with the brown wholemeal deli rolls delivered.
I was not confident that I would like them that much. Iceland had a habit of producing great things, like the ‘Naturally Imperfect Chips, and their quarter-pounder beefburgers, both great! But I’m afraid that they do sell items that are horrible as well. Like their so-called fresh tomatoes, own label pork pies etc., so what these rolls and sausages will be like, I’ll find out later. I got around to checking the stuff as I put it in the fridge, and oh, dearie me! 
Miserable now, self-pitying and depressed, all that missed opportunities with so many interruptions that stole away a rare opportunity for me to get some graphics done while the nerve-ends were working, lost! 
I got on the meal cooking. Ah, well, that’s Inchcock’s luck all over. Tsk! 
Sweet Morpheous resisted, again! 
03:50hrs: I didn’t wake up – because I didn’t get to sleep. I just grumpily, cantankerously decided to reluctantly get up, mainly because I needed a wee-wee. 
I quickly got out of the £300 second-hand, rickety recliner, gained my momentum, picked up the four-pronged walking stick, and made for the wet room. Within two paces I was in pain from the toe I stubbed last night! Argh! It’s not going to get any better until I can get the toenails cut somehow, but have no idea how I can get them done in the current lock-in? I’m due for a lot of slowly increasing suffering now. And have 12 weeks of enforced hibernation to get through before I can even think of getting out to the clinic. Gawd, I’m in a rotten mood, already!
Instantly, with no warning twitches from the right knee or ankle (a rarity), a Neuropathic Schuhplattler right leg dance, kicked off! It lasted a while this one, too. But the more surprising fact. As I leant forward to the nearest solid object to grab onto, to keep my balance and not topple-over, the toilet cistern, the camera which was in the right hand, took this picture on the right as I fell forwards. Yet the photo came out great? 
Back to the flat and got Josie’s nosh done. A little earlier than usual, but I took it to her door and pressed the bells. No answer. Oh, dear! I nipped back in the flat and covered the plate with foil to hopefully keep it warm for a while, and put the Limoncello back in the fridge to keep that cold. 
I made up a bottle of spring water and lemon cordial mix.
02:45hrs: I woke up, and stirred with a certain reluctance. Brought about by my anxiety of what the next mistake, error, memory lapse, blank-spell or tumble will bring forth with it.
Determined not to get uptight and despondent like the last two days, I deliberated and brain-stormed in search of some positives from the situation. I surprised myself in how many I came up with. Most of the deformed, or contrived, but they made me feel a bit better, just for thinking of the silliness in most of them:
Into the kitchen, and took the medications, guzzled a load of the inefficacious, unfructuous, otiose Peptac to try to calm Duodenal Donald down a bit. Made a brew and opened the window to see what the odd noise was, found no cause for it, and took a photo of the morning view of the twinkling Nottingham lights.
I then had a check on the WordPress comments. Then started this blog going. 
Sister Jane and Brother in Law Pete sent me a photograph of their latest just received freebie box of fodder. (Right one doctored by yours truly, to show what they really meant. Hahaha!)
Simple enough meal. The last of my low-fat, ‘Naturally Imperfect’ oven chips were crispy and not fatty at all. The burgers were grand. The last of the piccolo tomatoes were wonderful, a Marmite and plain cheese disc were okay. 
Then settled down to watch some TV, with a certainty that sleep would surely come early tonight, after all, I was feeling mentally drained. AS long as the Thought-Storms didn’t kick-off. 
A different version of Inchcock returned to his £300, second-hand, uncomfortable, c1968, not-working rickety recliner. A sad, grumpy thing, who became sadderer, when sleep refused to come, he didn’t even have any nodding-offs.