Despite the poverty, I was at my happiest…
In my younger years, and almost positive!
Full of vigour and at my determinest…
I set out one Sunday to slab Square, looking my nattiest!
First time alone on a trolleybus, at my swankiest!
43 Trolleybus in town
The bus ticket cost all of 3d,
Today that would be about ½ a new penny,
I wanted to get a Sunday paper, you see…
Take it to Dad; make him proud of me!
But the newsvendor asked, where’s your Daddy?
I didn’t realise he knew my Dad, Harry!
He told me to take myself home and hurry!
But he did give me a newspaper for Dad, for free!
West Bridgford (WBUDC) bus
So, I did, on a posh, pretty coloured WBUDC,
West Bridgford Urban District Council, you see?
We didn’t argue with adults back then, tactfully…
Agreeing with grown-ups, had desirability…
Cause of their clipping you around the earhole, ability!
I hastened home…
I hurried home, in hope of a visit from Auntie Kerry…
She liked to bath me, which always affected my psychoactivity,
I think she had some habits, mayhaps, eccentricity?
She scrubbed me up well, with dexterity, not dignity!
I always greeted her arrival with emotional glee!
Not understandingly, but happy… and expectantly…
Knowing (praying for) what she was about to do to me! ♥
I longed for her visits, and was her greatest devotee,
And to think that people said we were an odd family? Hehe!
I’d like to offer this ‘different’ blog topic today. Most of the following photos, all connected to the Slab Square, chronologically (I hope), they show the changes made since 1929, when they started pulling down the old Exchange Building, to be replaced by the new look concrete Lions, and the Little John bell, that booms out every quarter of an hour. Sometimes when I’m in Sherwood, even I can hear it, and that’s two miles away! With the hearing aids in, naturally.
I wonder if they would let folks on the roof nowadays? Hehe!
Nottingham City Council House was officially opened by the Prince of Wales on 22nd May 1929. My Dad was there, as he frequently told me; stuck in traffic, held up by the police to let the Princes cars through, trying to deliver his load of British Railway Parcels to a shop on South Parade.
I remember this fair. I was working at Tesco at the time, and had to from the Radford Road store to the Maid Marion Way one to take some cash… or it might be the other way around? Either way, I got a jolley good rollicking of manager Derek Down when I got back late on the motorbike, due to someone opening the fair and the roads being blocked off, as I recall. Humph!
Ah, my romantic period, this was. Not that I had a lot of success!
Look at those taxis on the right, South Parade. All Morris Oxfords or Austin Cambridges, very rarely any other model of car. The fair showing on the meter would start at 6d (2½p). Happy times, although the shared physical jerks were at a premium around this time! Bit of a blue period.
Got arrested at the football match at the City Ground. Thrown in a gigantic black maria, and let out at the end of the match.
Doing a bit better with gals now… Hehehe! Met Grizelda and had four weeks of rampant, beautiful, gorgeous, constant… I nearly got carried away there!
First time I’ve been late for work in my life. Not surprising!
Tsk! Young, middle-aged, mature ladies, lying around with hardly any clothes on! Showing things that old men like wot I am shouldn’t be looking at… Oh dearie me! I was so embarrassed… And my missing the bus home three times meant I was forced to sit there in ogling mode, for four hours! Ahem!
I arrived in town with aches and pains from the bus trip, I was already sorry I’d escaped! The bus ride was a battle between me keeping the trolley-guide from running away every time we took a corner, jammed the anchors on, went downhill, and my falling out of the seat! Harolds Haemorrhoids were stinging! I called in the Wilko store to get some of the Laundry freshener, which I did. I came out, with three of the granules, chocolate brazils, peanuts and a bottle of disinfectant.
I left and hobbled to the Poundland Shop, where I got carried away and frustrated. They had no pies, Dettol or filled BLT sarnies. After a physical battle with other shoppers breathing down my neck cause I was not moving fast enough, people running in front of me in the queue, I paid with the card at the checkout for the: Toffiffee box, Frazzles, White waste bags, Perle De Perle lemon desserts, Ginsters pasties, Microfibre cleaning cloths, can of stewed steak, Oxo cubes, Mint and lemon disinfectant, (Good for the overnight emergency grey wee-wee bucket, you know!) and a packet of Senna tablets.
Out in the drizzle, passing all the jolly, happy, sociable, kind, understanding, smiling, sweet-natured Nottinghamians, merrily going about their shoplifting and pickpocketing activities. Avoiding the pavement cyclists was risky!
Along Upper Parliament Street, and down King Street towards the Market Square. The wind was getting up, I was struggling controlling the three-wheeler guide, and getting the odd shower from the buses as they pulled up from the puddles. The toenails joined the piles in giving me some tender stinging as I limped down the hill.
I stopped at the bottom of Long Row opposite the tree, and took the time to just glance around, (in my Sherlock Holmesian Mode, here!), to access the mood of the Nottingham plebeians. The masks were being worn by, I’d estimate, 60% of the Nottingham great unwashed, Students, muggers etc., but I got the view that the masses, were not too content with life, but, who can blame them?
I limped across the Slab Square. I’d decided to go to the other Poundland Store on Wheeler Gate, in search of some Dettol disinfectant, and BLT sarnies. A sense of doom and gloom came over me as I crossed over, starving pigeons came down to me when I stopped a moment to try and wriggle the keet to free the toenails that had got tangled in the sock. They must have thought I was going have summat to eat, and hoped a few crumbs would fall to the floor?
Long Row looked terribly sad. Temporary and permanently closed stores everywhere, a desperate pigeon seeking fodder of some sort, and few Nottinghamians about! I got in the Poundland and had another struggle to get around, the feet and toes were harrowing painful now. I cheered a smidge when I found some Dettol lavender disinfectant on sale and got three bottles. As I meandered about I added, two part-baked baguettes, pork pie, a BLT sarnie, The wobbles came on when I got to the self-serve tills, I was embarrassed and in a pickle.
A young lady helped me out and picked up the dropped items and out them through for me. She was busy and kept nipping off to help others, and I started to all out of the shop with the trolley and bags hanging all over it, and the girl chased after me… I had not paid! Red-faced (it probably showed through the face-mask!) I returned and used the card…
Oh, heck! The machine would not take the card! I went into Panic-Mode. The young lady tried to calm me down, but all sorts of things were going through my mind, embarrassment being the biggest! I fumble around and found enough cash to pay, the lady was very calm about it. I thanked her and dug out a can from the trolley, of Vodka mix and gave it to her. When I got outside, I calmed down a bit, as I realised I’d used the card earlier at the other store, so the bak might have been being cautious, in case the card had been stolen and used?
I got to the slab square and noticed the large number of crows that were about. Someone had dropped some crumbs whatever, and the crows dived down attacking the pigeons? I had a good while before the bus was due, so I walked around the Council House and back along Long Row on the other side, to King Street.
The Primark Store had bouncers and staff controlling the shoplifting customers as they queued up to do some pilfering. I don’t know how the stop stays in business. I rarely go in nowadays, its a large store with escalators and stairs, so I can’t go shopping there anymore anyway. But the times in the past I’ve seen kleptomaniacs and pickpockets at work when I did shop there, was phenomenal.
As I turned up King Street to go to the bus stop, the PAvement Cyclist git it blue, came withing inched of hitting me, and seemed totally unaware of it. I hoped my taking this photo might trigger him to ask me why I was photographing him, as he chatted to a fellow food deliverer. Then I could have told him! But, no!
The three Christian singers were out again further up the road, near the Brian Clough statue, its called speakers corner. They or one or more of them are regular attenders. The chap on the right with the guitar started this singing to the Lord off first. I’ve never seen him in long trousers, whatever the weather is like?
I got up to the bus stop and took this snap as I arrived there, it is sadly, indicative of the mood of the City Centre today. Drab! I caught a number 40 bus back home, glad I did, it is much quicker than the L9.
I was tired, in pain, mangled toenails, Duodenal Donald starting to kick-off, depressed, embarrassed, and oh, so keen and ready for fodder and sleep!
The following, pictorials and odes, were created in support of the Depressed Nottinghamian At-Risk High-Rise Flat-Dwelling Prisoners Support Group. Donations gladly accepted.
Having made his escape bid plans again. He clandestinely crept to the lifts, falling over his three-wheeked walker-Guide, waited for the regulation Winwood Heights twenty minutes for a lift, and got down in time to miss the bus.
He waited patiently, for the next bus, but this proved something of a benefit for the old git. Not many folks about, but he still managed to corner one poor chap, and hastened to bore him to death verbally! The man wisely moved away.
And Inchcock, being instantly bored himself now, went into one his Sherlock Holmesian modes. Someone had been blowing their nose in the bus shelter, and stuffing the tissue under the seating?
He caught the bus and got out his crossword puzzles, but the driver, obviously a stock-car racing fan, nearly had Inchy out if his seat a few times en route to Nottingham City centre. Trying to hold onto his three wheeler, took some effort.
The old chap went itn the Pondland shop on Lower Parliament Street, and despite his painful and feet, enjoyed his hobble around the store, coming out with many items he didn’t need or want, Tsk!
He got to the checkout, and got himself in a right pickle and state of embarrassment at the self-serve checkout! The lady monitoring the tills, was greatly unimpressed with his continual dropping of things and farting about trying to retrieve them.
But did not offer to help, although she shared some sneerings, of hate, derision, scornfulness and causticness with him. He came out redfaced and £20 lighter. And took these three shots of the Milton Street junction.
Where he went into the Bargain Shop. A terrible experience! No one talking, empty shelves etc. But, he still spent over £21, mostly on Christmas treats for his family of friend in Woodthorpe Court.
He was struggling now, the three-wheeler trolley-bag full, and three carrier bags hanging on the handles, would make progress awkward for him. At least he remembered to but sone of the dar clothing cleaner. He set off on a limp towards the Slab Square.
On his hobble along Milton Street to Upper Parliament Street, he noticed the Nottionghamian pedestrians crossing the road against the lights again, but this is a usual, regular occurrence. He adjusted thos spectacles.
Which was a mistake, as he turned onto Upper Parliament Street, the old fart of a fool unthinkingly took the spectacles off to clean them.
They got caught in the facemask!
He crossed over the road, and down King Street. Near the bus stops, a chap dressed like the Beatles used to, with plaited hair hanging below his shoulders, stopped him and asked for ‘a couple of quid for a coffee’. As he eyed up the bags!
Inchy just said, ‘No!’ and carried in hobbling down the hill, turning to keep an aye on the youth as he did, to make sure he wasn’t following. Getting to the Slab Square, Inchy gor out his camera for a snapping away session.
He saw the little crowd and paparazzi outside the Council House steps, he went back into Sherlock Holmesian mode, and took a close up[ phot of whoever was on the steps. This person came by. Inchy got a decent shot of his/her head.
Inch repositioned himelf a bit closer, and waited for the right moment to get a view of what was going on. Nice zoomed-in photo for once. Asssumed to be the Sheriffess or Mayoress of Nottingham? Again, not single Policeman in sight today.
The tatterdemalion, dour, malagrugrous, weary, tellurian, dangerous populace of Nottingham, were showing a bit of itnerest, at least. Not many of them had face-masks on, but it isn’t law yet to wear them outsdoors yet, methinks.
The lad poddled his way wit hdifficulty up Queen Street to get to his bus stop, and caught a number 40 back home, to his never-restfull, beloved, always something to worry about, four years being upgraded and not finished yet, Winwood Heights.
He was the only passenger when the bus moved off from the terminus. Pondering on should he get out the crossword or not; one look at the mass of bags on the trolley, and the book being at the bottom, he decided against it!
The first passenger to get on the bus, was Face-Maskless.
The second one, had his mask under his chin.
A lady got on, and she had no mask on!
As the chin-mask wearing man got up tp get off, he gave Inchy a cautionary scowl, that was a bit threatening. As the bus progressed along St Anns Well Road, it passed the Health Centre where Inchy has to go for his bladder-scan.
This is St. Anns Valley Centre, 2 Livingstone Road, Nottingham NG3 3GG.
Events over his last two visits there, do not proffer the least bit of encouragement or confidence in Inchy.
The record, as Inchy explains:
February: Went to get the feet done, and they said come back later, we’ll have to lool at your health record.
March: They refused to do my feet, cause the Warfarin level was too high..
July: They refused to tend to my feet, because I’d just had the stroke.
August: Refused again, cause of my having been diagnosed with diabetes.
September: The did cut my nails, but said they will not be able to so in future. I have to go private in future.
Poor old sod!
He arrived back at his Woodthorpe Court, along with the mysterious wonders of, the Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, Hallucinations and Kehuas. Materialisations, Poltergeist, Lemures, Wairuas, Manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan mission; ‘To annoy and scare the bejesus out of, and the pants off of the old energumenist, Inchcock’.
Inchcock’s Third brave but stupid, Escape from the Lock-Down
We understand, that the Nottingham City Council Security, the Police, and the newly-formed Boy Scouts Woggle-Anti-Lock-Down-Escapers-Retrieval-Team are after him, again!
He arrived at Upper Parliament Street, where he spied and ogled some Nottinghamian ladies, on his way into the Poundland Store, had a Dizzy Dennis visit, and came out with more unwanted goods, such as Zoflora disinfectants, Carnation milk pots, Cooked beef misshapes, and 3×8 bags of his destroyers-to his diet, Frazzles!
He paid the lady, who helped him when he had his funny-turn and dropped his money on the floor, thanked her and made his way to the Bargain Shop on Milton Street. Observing a pair of fine legs-displaying young Nottinghamiam lady, crossing the road against the cross-walk lights. He forgave her we understand.
He patiently waited for some fine bottom-shaped, Nottinghamian Mothers to get there ankle-snappers locked securely in the pushchair, then entered the store. Hoping they would have some of the Pakistani made potato cakes, and lemon air-spray in stock. They didn’t. But the old fool felt so guilty at the thought of not buying anything, he bought a pack of four-mini oven trays, for £1.99, and left to walk through Trinity Square, up the incline, so as to take some pictures of Trinity Walk, but got yet another visit from Dizzy Dennis, and hobbled down to Upper Parliament Street.
The first of the Pavement Cyclist he saw on the short hobble, all-but ran into him. He claims to have called out, “You silly boy!” and waved at him.
Investigations are underway to find out what he actually shouted!
He limped down Queen Street to Nottingham’s Slab Square.
His near-miss at being run into again by another Nottingham Pavement Cyclist, (he says) drew a slightly more forceful response. The old grumpy claimed he said “Tsk! You rascal!”
He walked across to South Parade, where he took a shot of the side of the Council House. Not many folks there, so he turned back and took one of the Square.
He hobbled down Arcade Walk. Amused at how the Nottinghamians were totally ignoring the signs written on the paving stone, to keep to the left.
St Peter’s Square; and the silence was overbearing.
He says he felt like a disaster was about to take place, as he avoided another of the many Nottinghamian Pavement Cyclists.
He told our reporter, that he wanted after over a year and a half, to go into the M&S Foodhall, to get some treats from there ready-made meal section for himself. Shame that. He could not gain entry with his walker to any door but one, all the others have stairs or step that needed tackling to get in. So, after a long painful hobble around he found the doorway, and for his bother, got walked into by two rather large ladies coming out. He could not tell what they said to him, but the words were accompanied by some well-used, superior class sneers and curled lips.
Then he had to walk for what seemed miles, to get to the lift down to the Food Hall. Luckily, there was no one wanting to use the lift, which pleased him, but felt odd, the place used to be very busy all of the day? When he got down, it was a very sad sight! The Coronavirus has had a shocking impact, for M&S. Fridges were curtained off and not in use at all! The usually well-stocked shelves looked bare, by comparison now.
The fool paid £2 for a tiny bag of small potatoes, £1 for a mini tray of basic mushrooms, £2 for small-box of Frites, and £2.50 for four minuscule potato-rostis!
He got to the checkout and had another Dennis Dizzy visit, and Stuttering Stephanie hit him. He claims he was overcharged, but who knows, in the state he was in, owt could have happened.
The poor old senile nincompoop struggled to get up the lift and out of the one door he could use, and onto Lister Gate again.
Back wearily up Exchange Walk, with his famously-reliable EQ, telling him that hassle of some sort was on the way. Which didn’t take long to arrive!
He took a zoomed-in shot with his little Canon camera towards King Street, as a Pavement Cyclist zoomed by his, and he felt the draught the speeding idiot made!
Another Pavement Cyclist came into view.
Then another one, too!
This one came close to hitting the old codge, he came from the rear. Inchcok refused to tell me what actual words he shouted at this Pavement Cyclist.
This particular Pavement Cyclist gave our Nottinghamian pensioner a few looks!
The old scrote carried on his way up to the bus stop, and a final Pavement Cyclist belted by him. He claims he was tired, pee’d off and Dizzy Dennis was visiting him again at this stage. There might be something in what he says cause he can’t remember the bus ride back to Winwood Court!
He says he didn’t see a single policeman all day!
The can recall getting off of the bus though, he cracked his ulcered ankle on the trolley-walkers right-hand back wheel!
This was written and potomagraphed, under great stress. Just thought I’d mention it!
Monday, 7th September 2020, Inchcock escapes from captivity and cunningly flees his Woodthorpe Court. To investigate the Coronavirus affects in the City Centre, buy stuff he doesn’t need, cripple his poor feet, and a failed search for a chinwag!
Plans were laid,
For his escapade,
The Escape bid was made,
He was feeling fraught and afraid!
Arriving on Upper Parliament Street,
Alighted the bus, hobbles to Poundland,
Already pains from Relux Roger and his feet,
He spent on superfluous stuff, like crabmeat,
Then to the Bargain shop, wishing he could find a seat!
He bought three things, none of them needed,
His enthusiasm for his escape, now, receeded,
Little Inchies fungal lesion bleeding, succeeded,
His finances, he had further bleeded!
He hobbled along Milton Street then,
Down Clumber Street, he was saddened, when,
He saw the closed shop, there were over ten,
Including his camera shop, he nearly cried then!
Sadly, he made his way to the end,
Feeling lonely and down a bit,
What Coronavirus has created, can we mend?
Oh, dear, a penny he needed to spend!
The urge he had to suspend!
To the corner of Long Row, he did wend!
A photo of Pelham Street he did take,
Then one a shot backwards up Clinton he did make,
Long Row, too, where he took some more,
Off towards his bus stop in the Slab Square,
Paramedics, Security Guards, were there,
The people looked so full of despair!
The rain came down, he took shelter from it,
Under the shop eaves, but it didn’t last long,
He took this photo, he quite liked the resulting effect,
His bladder was full, to the bus stop direct!
En route, Slab Square was photographed,
He tripped on the wheeled trolley walker,
He even managed a little laughter,
When he passed wind and hiccoughed!
He caught the bus back, a painful drive home,
Got off on Chestnut Walk, glad he finished his roam,
Damn it, he’d forgot to get his shaving foam!
He sheltered from the sudden rain,
Under the cover, and gloom was falling again,
He belched, it smelt like aminomethane,
He hobbled toward home; it was a strain!
He got in his flat,
He untangled his hearing aids from his mask,
It was a fiddley, difficult task!
Made himself a meal that,
Was too big, but not too much fat,
He fell asleep, and that was that!
Not a very good ode this time, uncertainty and confusion were visiting me. Sorry.
20:45hrs: Not the odd time here on the left? That’s because I did the Sunday post early, and continue with it into this blog. To save time today. Cunning eh? I think that’s what I mean?
18:30hrs: I got out of the £300, second-hand, rusty, decrepit, c1968 rickety recliner, and got the computer back on, to finish the Sunday blog, and got it sent off. Emailed the links, then on Facebooking catching-up.
Had a bash at doing some graphics up, on CorelDraw. Did a couple and sat down in the rickety, c1968 recliner, to have a mug of Extra Strong Assam tea, and some Branston Pickle flavoured cheddars… Fatal! But oh, so pleasurable! I nodded off into the land of Sweet Morpheus, and a few hours (it felt like), off constant dreaming. All memories of my past, younger days.
0455hrs, I woke up, almost in a panic! ‘Oh, what time is it ?’ – ‘I’ve not sorted the things out yet for podiatrist trip!’ – ‘What needs doing fist?’ But the need for a wee-wee arrived; breaking my train of thought.
The urgency of the sudden liquid-evacuation meant I made a right Whoopsie, and got up, caught my balance and wandered over to the EOGPB (Emergency-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket) without taking the walking stick. I arrived at the bucket, okay but as I began to relieve myself of the RSP (Reluctant-Sprinkly-Painful) wee-wee, Shuddering -Shoulder-Shirley kicked-off! How I managed to keep hold of the grey bucket, was nothing short of a miracle! As soon as things stopped flowing, I put the bucket down, and without spilling anything (Very-Temporary-Smug-Mode-Adopted).
Just to guarantee me a terrible start to this already worrying day, Peripheral Neuropathy Paul launched one of his involuntary, no-control-over, right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances, and over I went. Backwards – but this was a good thing, for I fell onto the £300, second-hand recliner. Not only that, but I missed hitting both of chair-arms on my way down! I wish I’d got the camera in reach, as I lay there, watching the last few dying twitches and flutters of the leg. Within a minute, it had calmed down altogether (which is not rare).
But, the incident had triggered thoughts of insecurity within me. I began to fear and imagine terrible consequences ahead for me. Will I manage going out after so long? Will Paul give me any bother at the Podiatry Clinic? I’m already doubtful that they will cut my toenails for me? Will the trolley-walker fit in the taxi? Will the cab arrive on time? Will I be able to get my shoes on? On, and on, the worries flowed…
Fortunately, the need of the Porcelain Throne arrived then, with the usual request from the innards, stabbing pains and a little inner-rumblings. Without delay, I got the camera and four-pronged walking stick, and hobbled to the wet room, with a degree of alacrity.
Oh, dearie me! What a session it was! Good and bad luck involved. I only just got there in time, (but thankfully did!) before things started to painfully and slowly evacuated of there own accord, I had no control over this whatsoever. Masses of pongy, sticky, messy product. Bleeding as well. I shan’t go too far into this (although I may have already done so, sorry). The cleaning things up was a long job, and the washing and medicating stung a bit. Hehehe!
I took a shot of the painful uncut toenails, and wondered if they will be cut when I get back from the Health Centre? I hoped this would be the last photo of my Howard Hughes feet.
Another thing I noticed was how flipping pale I looked, really anaemic! This may be the thing that will prevent them from treating my feet and cutting the nails. I have a horrible feeling about this, today’s hassle to get out, is going to be a waste of time! Surely they cannot make me wait until November at the Sherwood Health Centre? If so, it will be over a week since, so I’ll have to book again, and obviously, the available date will probably be in December or January!
I got to the kitchenette and took a shot of the blue-tinged (or should that be blue-hued?) sky. Got the kettle on, and the Health Check gear out of the medical drawer.
The dang thermometer was playing up again, all I could get on the readout, was ‘Low’, no figures.
But the sphygmomanometer readings were perhaps the best for months. Which doesn’t fit with my skin and body mass being so pale and ghostly looking?
Computer Cameron on, and updated this blog.
Turned off everything, and checked the face mask, money for the taxi, bus pass to get home, socks and shoes (hopefully) to put on (for the first time in months) after the treatment, in the trolley. But I was not confident I’d checked everything. It’s been that long now since I’ve been out anywhere, I felt nervous at the thought now? Silly old sausage!
Then I got the ablutions sorted out, early, thus allowing myself extra-time to have another check after the ablutionalisationing, for things I’m sure I’d not remembered. A touch of anamesia there?
Off to the wet room. (Which still had the Porcelain Throne activities aroma lingering – Cor!) I had a stand-up, teggies, shave, and wash. I did the feet stood in the bowl. A couple of nicks shaving, and only three dropsies all together! I need some more razors, I’ll see if I can get some after the Clinic if it goes well.
I prepped four waste bags and took them to the waste-chute. It was a bit awkward getting through to the chute room, as the decorators were starting work on my floor.
The lobby is looking better already!
I returned to collect the big bag of recycling waste and departed again to take the stuff down to the caretaker’s room. As I was on the way down in the lift, the cage stopped on the 9th floor, and a contractor bloke nearly got on, until he saw me in there. Naughty! Using the tenant’s elevator when we can’t use their dedicated one? But, to be fair, I’ve seen no-end of tenants using the wrong lift! So, fairs, fair! Hahaha!
The weather was little wet this morning, and seemed to be getting worse? I dropped the bag off at the bin, and the caretakers said something to me, but I didn’t catch what it was. They weren’t scowling or glaring at me, so I assumed I’d done nothing wrong. Hehe! Gave them a smile, and returned to the lobby and back up the elevator.
As the lift door opened, I struggled to get through back to the flat. Took my time and carefully worked my way through, without any hassle. Into the flat, and checked on things, taps, lights, stove etcetera, in readiness for my departure.
I looked out of the balcony window, as I pondered on whether to risk brewing myself a mug of tea or not. In the end, I decided against having a drink. Better safe than sorry, especially with the current PMPD & PMAD dribbling problems, and my going out, as well!
The precipitation was getting more substantial, and things went suddenly very dark?
I reappraised my arrangements and what I’d got done in advance, worried that I may have missed something. Checked the jacket pockets for the bus pass, keys, taxi money, note from Jenny etc., and timed it to get down for the taxi with fifteen minutes to spare. As usual, being the fussbudget, worrier and doomster that I am, I rechecked the flat for the umpteenth time, before my leaving, but still in an uncertain frame of mind. I knew something ‘botheration-wise’ was going to take place, no doubt about that! I’m not a soothsayer, necromancer or Augur, it’s just my EQ(Not IQ), was telling me of foreboding news in the offing today, and he has never-ever wrong!
I got down to the ground floor and spotted that there had been a change of some sort in the Fire-Riser. But what is was, I couldn’t decipher. I’m losing it here, methinks?
I got to the front lobby and waited for the arrival of the DG cab. A black Hackney cab arrived five minutes before the DG on due, and I assumed it was for someone else. The driver came to me and asked if I was Gerry. He was for me. He was a lovely chap and helped me into the cab, and we soon at the Health Centre. He drove carefully en route. He dropped me off as close as it was possible to the entrance doors, bless him.
I paid him, thanked him and made my way into the clinic, as the rain started to come down heavier again.
I entered and followed the written advice on the advice on display, to use the hand sanitiser on entry. I made my way to the reception counter, and the young lady greeted me before I could speak with, ” Are you, Gerald Chambers?” – “Yes”, I said – ” Sit over there!” She said – “Thank you, I said. And sat over there. Hehehe!
Well early, of the appointment time, so I got the crossword book out. Moments later, a young lady came towards me, “Are you, Gerald Chambers?” “Yes!” “Follow me!” So, I did.
I could tell there was bad news coming. She went through a question and answer routine, and took the feets blood circulation test, with four blobs of jelly, two each foot. The disappointing news was given to me while she was cutting the toenails. There are new rules, and I don’t qualify for NHS nail-cutting, anymore, as my circulation in the feet is okay. I’ll have to use a private chiropodist in future.
I explained, that with the Coronavirus, maybe, I’ve had three podiatrists refuse to cut my toenails, last week. I told her how the Warden of the complex had rung them for me. This made no difference, the new rules have to be adhered to. (I expected something like this!) The lady gave me a place to ring or go to on the internet. Obviously, there are many other senile-sufferers in my position and agony with their feet.
Still, it’s not the ladies fault. She woman (in face mask and shield helmet, by the way, hiding a most appealing pretty face) did say I’d brought up a valid point, and she would mention this to her ‘boss’, but I was not to expect too much in the way of success. Haha!
I thanked her muchly and hobbled out into the rain. But I was not overly-disappointed at all. For I knew something was going to go wrong today, my good old EQ knew too!
I decided to have a walk into town in the drizzle. Apart from passing some characters that I knew were of a threatening nature, and made me weary, the hobble to the City Centre was enjoyed greatly. It’s been so long since I did this, it seemed a pleasure, especially as the toenails had been trimmed, and walking was so much less hassle now.
The going did get a little rough by the time I got to the end of St Ann’s Well Road, as the left side brakes of the three-wheeled-walker-guide, had now packed up altogether. Hey-ho!
Within half-an-hour I was on Upper Parliament Street. Crossing George Street, a git of a pavement cyclist almost got me! He plodded on uncaring up George Street, which like everywhere else, seemed most baron of tellurians, understandably.
I bought a packet of red and green seedless grapes from a stallholder. I’ll split this with Josie later. Then I can make sure she doesn’t wake me up to bring back the dinner tray and things again. I hope!
I passed the Wilko store, as a security guard was stopping folks going in without a face-mask on (Naughty!) I made my way into my beloved Poundland shop, and had a good look around, and selecting things I fancied.
When I got to the self-serve tills, I had a few dropsies and felt a right fool – which was guaranteed by Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley’s antics! I’d bought; A Pork Farms pork pie, Zoflora and a cheaper variety of disinfectants (3), lemon bleach (2), Bic razors, Individual milk pots, Lemon & cucumber scented air freshener (2), and a packet of 6 BBQ flavoured mini-cheddars. A lot of which got in the bag via a trip to the floor! (Thanks to Shirley! Huh!) I’ve never seen so few customers in the place!
I paid with cash, and the change also had a trip to the floor. Suddenly I had help arrive! But not all of the change monies were rescued. Humph!
Getting out and controlling the trolley was not an easy task, and my stopping to take photographs caused a few near-accifauxpas, as the brakes were so unreliable.
I made my way stutteringly to Milton Street and the Bargain Buys, previously known as the PoundStrechers. As I arrived, the heavens opened up! Just in time eh! Hahaha!
I consulted my shopping list I’d made for this shop. Pakistani Potato Cakes, 6 x small cans Garden Peas, Egg Mayonaisse, Woolite liquid soap, vegetable Oxo cubes, a lemon and a lime cooking juice, Zoflora lemon, and 3 chocolate almond. I realised I was going to have a heck of job carrying all of these, with the two baf=gs I had on the handlebars already. Oh, dearie me! As it happened I had no problems at all? They only had the Woolite and one pack of chocolate almonds on sale. Tsk!
This bothered me more than the podiatrist let-down! I paid the lady at the checkout and somewhat miserably made my way through Trinity Square.
Still, the rain almost stopped, and I had a great photographicalistical few moments, snapping all around where I stood in Trinity Square. Again, a lack of people! I limped down to Parliament Street and snapped the Frankie & Benny food store on the corner of King Street. Only three customers as I could see in there.
Then walked down towards the City centre, and back up Queen Street to find the times of the buses back home. This was the first time I’d had a choice of buses to make. The L9 was due in five minutes later, the 40 bus was fifteen minutes from arrival time. So, I trudged up the hill to the L9 stop. One other lady was waiting. The bus arrived, the driver got out for a fag, we waited, and then the uncommunicative pauciloquent driver, got on, managing to issue two words to the lady and me; one of them was Huh! Bless him! Probably in line for Driver of the Year?
I struggled to stay awake on the trip back, only one person boarded en route, making a total of three passengers!
I dismounted and ambled through the warm rain along Chestnut Walk, back to the flats. I thought of poping in the office and asking Riechsfuhreress and Catwalk Model Warden Deana if she would ring about the podiatrists for me. But I realised she would be on her nosh, so didn’t bother her, I’ll try again later on.
I got in the block of flats, spotting the updated list of working areas. Then had a bit of a wait to get the tenant’s elevator to get to me.
DeanaThen I noticed the time on the electronic display board. It was earlier than I thought it was, only 11:34 hrs.
I got up to the flats. Put the purchases away, and called at Josie’s with the grapes, and she gave me the tray back. Maybe this week, I can get to sleep and stay asleep! Fingers crossed, that Herbert is quieter.
Back to the flat, and planned some cooked beef cobs with extras (tomatoes, egg mayonnaise etc.) for the meal later.
Then got on with updating this post. In between satisfying unusual urges for mugs of tea?
The Vampire Nurse Hristina called, (lovely to hear a friendly voice) and told me she would be calling to do the blood test tomorrow, twixt 08:00 > 10:00hrs. Marvellous! I pressed on updating, despite Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters playing up and costing me a lot of time.
Great balls of fire! I’ve been at this blogging for over five-hours now! How time flies!
I like missing the toenail pains! Haha!
Better pack up and get the nosh sorted out. I did some part-baked cobs, buttered them and added sliced tomatoes and a slice of cooked beef to each one. On the disposable plate, sliced apple, some grapes, egg mayonnaise, and chicken thighs (Which were not eaten, eurgh!) Flavour rating 7/10.
Went to wash the pots, as the clouds turned threateningly dark suddenly.
After the long day, an enjoyable bit of exercise, the let-down over the podiatrist, and how worn out I felt, I hoped I would get to sleep easier tonight.
Fanmarveloustic! Chinwags, From a Socially acceptable distance, of course! And great weather!
Well, Jenny, bless her, delivered the lemon bleach and yoghourts she’s ordered for me good and early. Left them near the doorstep. Thus, I had time to rush about, (this may be a slightly excessive description) and get ready for my much longed for, my first trip out on the bus into town, for months! Excitement flooded the brain!
I made a complete hash of getting ready. It’d been so long since I went out, many things confused my poor old stale, addled brain:
I had to leave the socks off, cause they were too painful to wear!
Thus, I had agony with the feet and toes. But no matter, I was in my seventh heaven, about to escape into the outside world again!
Where were the unused for nine weeks flat keys? Found them quickly
Where was the bus-pass card, unused for nine weeks? This took yonks to find!
Where was the cash card? This took an aeon to find!
Time was getting on, so I put on the coat I last went out in. The heavy one!
Going to be interesting fun this, no hearing aid batteries!
I got the three-wheeled walker-guide, made sure some spare shopping bags were in it. And a few pressies in case I encounter any of the regular kind shop staff. And off I set!
Picture based record of the best day out for months. Well, it the first one!
Down in the elevator.
Checked on the electronic notice board, no rush after all. 12-minutes before the bus was due! A hobble down Chestnut Walk
Met several tenants, and had a chinwag or two, en route to the bus stop.
At the stop, people were mostly being sensible and keeping to the social distancing rules. I had a natter with Margaret, Christine and Steve. The bus arrived, and Christine seemed to be aware of my nervousness getting on the bus. On the short trip down the hill, she made me feel comfortable as we chinwagged.
I followed others who had got off the bus, down to the bus stop for a ride to town. Oh, dear, I was a tad confused getting on, but someone put me right. Each second side-saddle seat had been taped off and not in use. But there were not any available. Now there I was with my trolley, and in a pickle as to what to do. But a gentleman saw me in a ponder, and got up from a side-saddle, and moved to another seat, freeing it for me. Bless him!
We all got off at Victoria Centre, Christine had to remind I needed this stop. Haha! I chatted with her for a while, and she told me of the L9 bus being on a two hour Saturday timetable, and that I needed to get the bus back at 11:05hrs.
I felt so cared about, it was lovely.
I hobbled, (and the feet were giving my terrible gip) along Milton Street, and called into the old Poundstretcher shop. They, like the other shops, had set a new layout, and the in-door had been blocked off. I had a hunt around the grocery shelves, in search of some Pakistani potato cakes. But could not find any. But I still got to the checkout with; A can of Bonners BBQ sauce, Italian lemon cookies (Froletti Al Limone), Largeish bottle of Light Soy Sauce at £1.49. You’ll like this, a small packet of… ready for it; Asolo Dolce, Alla Marmellata di Arance! Which was Strudel with orange jam! Haha! And, All’Arancia Limone cookies. Finally, a face-mask, for a quid! I didn’t find out until I got home and could use the magnifying glass, it was made in Turkey.
I still found it hard to believe how few people were about. Milton Street, apparently the busiest in Nottingham City Centre, had six Nottinghamians, and so many closed stores!
As I crossed over Lower Parliament Street to get to the Poundland store, four cyclists came along the pavement, more or less at the same time. I struggled to get the camera out, by then there were only the two in the above picture left in view.
Into the shop, and they too had changed things around. I got a bit puddled trying to find the disinfectants, and I asked a lady assistant where they were; I followed her non-verbal finger that pointed towards the shop door, thanked her, and went to find them. The maze of aisles was challenging to manoeuvre around, with so many being blocked by the shelf fillers. Not that I blame them, they’ve got a job to do. With hopes high, I approached the fresh food fridge, almost tasting Pork Farms pie as got there. But, no, they didn’t have any. Which is a good thing really, I shouldn’t eat them anyway. But I did spot the tasty Frankfurters were in stock. I can’t work out why, but this brand, despite having less meat in than others are so filling and flavoursome. That’s tonight’s nosh sorted! Potatoes, peas, mushrooms, tomatoes and franks!
I did overspend, though!
I got to the checkout. As I was struggling anyway to put the basket on the counter, guess what? Without any warning or twitches, Peripheral Pete’s right-legs did a Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance routine, and to make things more embarrassing, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley had a bash at me! The basket tipped off the counter, and I made things worse by grabbing at it and spilling everything out onto the floor! Grobognangles! A lady arrived to help me, I moved out of her way, and she calmly gathered the goods and put them back in the basket and onto the counter for me. I mumbled my apologies, and the Tut-tutting from those behind me grew louder! To make those waiting angrier and even more likely to belt me one in the kisser, I’d bought a bottle of disinfectant, that was two for the same price as one, a quid. The kind lady pointed this out to me and called for someone to get another bottle for me. This was not making me very popular at all!
Yet the understanding of the serving lady was so much appreciated. The leg was still twitching a bit, and I feared it might ‘Dance-off’ again. So I paid the lady, thanked her, and hobbled to the door. I swear a heard a ginormous ‘Sigh’ from behind me!
Getting out back on the pavement, I took a shot of Parliament Street traffic; or lack of it. It was a sad sight. Made worse by so many obstreperous, leary, ignorant, dangerous, uncaring pavement cyclists. Notably, the scruffy-haired, tattooed neck and ear tab young delinquent who almost ran into me while I was taking the photo above, from behind! While I had the camera out, I turned to my left and took a shot of the end of Milton Street, then got in one of the closed-down shops’ doorways and sorted the weight distribution of the things in the trolley-basket and two carrier bags.
I’d bought a bottle of Aquafresh mouthwash, the two disinfectants for a pound, Frankfurters, Cheeslets, cashew nuts, a concentrated Lemon & mint, and Lemon disinfectants, and a (Not joking) Lemon & Sherbert freshener!
As I was passing the end of Milton Street, I was nearly assaulted by two pavement cyclists, from either direction! I caught a snap of the younger of the two illegal, contemptible, parasitic, moronic, spit-worthy urchins in this picture above.
Now here’s a rare sight, Milton Street with no moving traffic on it!
I got along to, and down King Street. The whole thing seemed so, almost hallucinatory. All I could see down the hill were two people! Weird!
As I got towards the bottom of the road on my way to the Slab Square, it got crowded, (Hahaha!) The spunk-bubbling, repugnant, detestable, unlikeable, arrogant pavement cyclist put on a display here. Unfortunately, I only caught this one parasite coming up the hill with my trusty Canon lens.
A little further down, and sod me, another sycophantic, tellurian organism of a pavement cyclist appeared. But I contained my hatred, fear and desire to knock the froward, mordant, noxiously pestiferously whippersnapper-bugger off of his bike… mainly cause he’d only belt the hell out if afterwards. Hahaha!
A handful of Nottinghamians in the Slab-Square, the quietness was eerie, and Nottingham’s Fothergill Watson designed building opposite, showing a sharp contrast the newer erections in the background, and was a touch saddening.
I turned to make my way to the bus stop, and a smidge of concern suddenly came over me. “What happens if the Coronvirus makes a comeback? And how come, it hasn’t seen off many pavement cyclists? Makes you think, dunnit?
Ah, another PC (Pavement Cyclist) made an appearance, as I turned up Queen Street towards the L9 bus stop.
The mind wandered as I limped slowly up the hill, Brian Clough’s statue on my right, The old Prudential Buildings, more pavement cyclists, not a sign of a policeman all day, how come I’ve gone for nearly two days without needing the porcelain throne?
The sheer magnificence of Fothergill Watson’s architectural designs. How come, I’ve gone so long without wanting a wee-wee? I was really into the mind-straying and changing routine, as I got to the top of the hill. But it came to a sudden end.
When I caught my foot on the wheel of the trolley as I secured it, in the middle of the pelican crossing refuge, to take this photo of Parliament Street, in all its bleakness. The burning, throbbing pains from the toes and souls of the feet were excruciating, and that’s no exaggeration. It ended my day out, in a despicably nauseating style. But it wasn’t quite finished yet.
I waited for and caught the L9 bus. Having to sit with the trolley in front of me was a bit awkward and difficult. The brakes on the three-wheeler would not apply? Which meant I had to sit leant forward, holding onto the trolley, to stop it rolling away for the whole journey. This stopped my blood flow, and Shuddering Shirley and Colin Cramps accompanied me. However, once Christine got on the bus, I concentrated on her amusing and witty tales. We had a laugh or a few en route home. She kindly didn’t run off, but walked at my steady pace and chatted as we walked the length of Chestnut Walk back to our beloved Woodthorpe Court. We waited for the lift, and Chrissie went up as we said our farewells to each other. It felt like I’d been out for hours and hours, and the fatigue was dawning. But, when I took a snap of the electronic notice board, as I did when I departed, showed me that I’d only been out from 09:20 to 11:41hrs.
I got the lift, and with there still being no call for a wee-wee or the Porcelain Throne, I put the purchasers away and made a super-duper mug of Thompsons Punjana.