I’d just put this graphic on, and the Vampire Angel arrived! Tsk!
Wednesday 1st April 2020
Greek: Τετάρτη 1 Απριλίου 2020
02:10ish hrs: I woke-up, passed wind from the rear-end. Then struggled to get out of the chair. The one that xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged. While he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward, and he fitted new CCTC cameras and searched for my valuables, which he found and took. The £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working – but not today, uncomfortable, rickety, ready-for-recycling, rinky-dinked, rattling, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away rusty recliner.
I clambered free of the seat, with a sense of urgency, and waggled, with bottom-cheeks clenched as best I could, to the wet room, with the middle right toe still aching from last nights stubbing! But it was a cunning false alarm! I sensed there was product in there, but it wasn’t having any effect on my efforts at encouraging any movement. So, I had a wash and wiped the contact points, and made for the kitchen. Took the medications, made a brew, and back to the computer room.
Where I noticed I had not cleaned up the area around where I knocked stuff over last night in my rushes to get to answer the phone. So a little clean up was performed, not a proper one, cause it was far too early to use the noisy hoover yet, and being as I didn’t have a quiet one, I didn’t. Hehe!
I kept on getting irritation on the arm when I caught it against anything, so had decker at it. A damned pretty artistic bruise had developed. (Clopidogrel or and Accifauxpas?) I thought that this should go with the leg photographs to the Tate gallery!
I got straight on with the WordPress updating on Tuesday’s post. I went to make another brew of Glengettie Gold tea, and when I put the teabag into the wast liner, I got a tiny little cut near the right-hand little fingernail. Which was no bother at all, cause I didn’t feel it? Thus, I knew that Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitter nerves were starting to go on strike, so I took care in which hand to use for which tasks I needed to do – Clever that! Must experience be learnt by?
I had a nosey in the black bag to see what it was I’d nicked myself on, and found it was the lid of the can of Polish meat I’d had and enjoyed so much last teatime. And, oh, dear, I saw the sell-by date on it: The 15th of December – 2016! I did have a look yesterday I think, but must have seen the 15.12, and assumed it was this year? Feel a right Klutz, now! I’m hoping my innards will not be affected? Oh, dear, oh, dear! The meat tasted lovely as well!
Back to the updating. It got harder work, as Nicodemus’s nerve ends kept going AWOL, and so many errors were made. But I got it finished around 05:45hrs.
Then put a few piccies on Pinterest, sent out the Emails, and later on the TFZer Facebooking. It was a struggle, though. I’m not sure if it was Virgin Meda or FAcebook at fault. But things were very variably stuttery and slow. I added some photographs to my albums. It took me as long as it did to update the blog in the first place!
As I was finishing the job, another urgent summing to the Porcelain Throne arrived, in the form of borborygmic gurgling. Experience told me not to ignore it, and off I went to the wet room. “Argh!”, it was a painful, needing encouragement from me, evacuation. Messy, some indeterministic bleeding too. But at least not from Little Inchies fungal lesion. Harold’s Haemorrhoids were not happy, and the stinging began! So, the cleaning up and medicationalisticalisationing was carried out.
I carried with this post up to here. Then went to make a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, and while the kettle was boiling, I took some shot of the morning view, three from the balcony, and the last one from the unwanted, wet-letting-in, disliked, thick-framed, light & view-blocking new kitchen window, with the Canon camera. I might be the lighting available, but I was pretty pleased with the resulting photos.
It looks so quaint – but I assure you, it ain’t!
All the parked cars of the self-isolators, enforced isolators (like wot I am!), sent home workers etc. was a sad reminder of what we’re all going through. And not a single person spotted in any of the snaps, as far I could see, anyway.
I phoned Sister Jane and her Pete. But, I got a message telling me the call has been put on hold?II tried to ring her back. Got another message saying an ‘active call,’ is preventing the connection. Got her next try, and ‘Sod’s Law’, or ‘Gerry’s luck’, while she was talking and telling me off, the dreaded wet and warm feeling from down below appeared – I asked her to wait for a second, had a look and found the white PP’s were mostly red – the blood was flowing from Little Inchies fungal lesion! I explained and shot off to the wet room.
More toilet roll was used in cleaning things up. Washed the area, and a few Argh’s and Ouches were muttered as I was medicating things. Humph!
Made the brew, and got on CorelDraw to do some graphics for another template.
The usual weariness and fatigue dawned early in the day again.
Got the oven on and nosh started. A chance to use up some dated items from the freezer. The fish fingers in breadcrumbs, substituted for battered ones by Iceland. Not very tasty, I think they may have been made with pond sticklebacks? The well-out-of-date Twiglets, the donated by a resident for me tomatoes were grand. The Halloumi sticks passable, and the beetroot, perfect! Overall, a Taste-Rating of 5/10.
I went to do the washing up, and the landline lit and rang. It was my Angel Jenny, to tell me that the food she had added to her Sainsbury order was coming via Frank to be delivered to me. So kind of her to help me like this.
Especially as I can’t pay her back until I can work out a way of getting some cash from the ATM or somehow.
Minutes later, the doorbell chimed. I got to open it, and two carrier bags had been left outside by Frank. I was picking them up, and Frank’s voice said something to me, I couldn’t tell what he was saying, but thanked him.
As expected, Sainsbury’s were out of stock of some things, some substituted. The caramelised biscuits with Caramel wafers, but at least I can hand them back for Jenny to use, or share later with the Wednesday gang when, if, it ever gets back online. No bread or cobs substituted. As to be expected, in the current climate.
It is lovely that Jenny is helping, but I will not bother her again, until I can find a way to pay what I owe her, including the £25+ for this order. Bless her kind cotton socks. She helps so many people. I’ll manage somehow.
I put the things away, and spotted another tin in the tea cupboard! Of Pork Knuckle, Great! And, it’s still in date, only just, but still. Hehe!
I’ll have a beef cook-in-the-bag in onion gravy tomorrow. Now I have some leeks and parsnips to add to it, thanks to Jenny & Frank.
I got settled down, in hopes of getting some sleep, but the mind was buzzing with problems and not letting me relax. Eventually, much later, I did nod-off… And the landline rang and flashed! It was a lady asking for Angela and Frank. I explained this was the wrong number, but I did not know the telephone digits of Angela and Frank, who live on the top floor. The poor lady sounded so disappointed.
Back down on the £300 second-hand, not-working, uncomfortable rickety recliner, in search of sweet morpheous, which was in no hurry to dawn on me. The Thought-Storms started and stayed with me a while. After the half-asleep prognosticating, I felt so confused, low, incapable, and pathetically self-hating.
I did get off into the land of nod – but had the oddest of dreams, and it was so lucid afterwards, I wrote down bits I could recall on the pad. I’d died if osteofluorosis, and they would not let me into heavens gates. St Peter (In the dream, Housing Patch Manager, Angela Gould), refused to let me in until I had got a disclaimer from Glengettie… I was returned to life and earth to fetch one, and everyone was dead. Bloody Coronavirus, I cursed! And, walked (I was the same age, but all my ailments had gone?), around the shops to get food, but everything had gone mouldy, and not a tin opener to be found anywhere… Suddenly, I was in New York, the same scenario, all dead… As I walked between the abandoned dead body filled vehicles, a rhinoceros came charging at me, stopped short, and licked my face? This beast knocked me down a drain… After that, it all goes vague.
Might I be losing it?
00:35hrs: I felt overjoyed, satiated, contented, proud, confident, pleased, and so happy, I thought I was going to burst! Then I woke up! Tsk! The dream I was having is best not gone into in detail. Suffice to say, I was young, in the company of certain young ladies I knew, way back in the 1960s and had got a sweat on! Nuff Said! The disappointment on realising it was not real, was shattering to my confidence and morale! 
As per usual it started with my just getting there in time, but things needed some input from me to get moving… “Eurgh! Argh! Oooh! I got things flowing, and it did the stopping again part-way, and needing even more painful pushing to finish it off. 
Got on the computer and got the updating finished for the Monday post. And with little hassle from Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley or Dizzy Dennis! So I got the job done in a reasonable time. Posted it off and sent Emails. 
I make two more waste black-bags up, and took them with the others to the chute and deposited them all down the shaft. No signs of anyone about. 
Well, off to the wet room, to do the ablutions and have another fight with the sock-glide. 
The latest UK Coronavirus update looked bleak. There is a larger number in Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire. Oh, dear!
One piece of mail was a load of can-we-sell-you bumph, the other confirmation of my rent being paid at the new increased rate. 
Also, as well as, I took something of a rarity today; a wee-wee! But it as a good one, of the TTSLTATO (Torrential-Throughout-Stopped-Like-Turning -A-Tap-Off) mode.
Finished of this blog up to here, but let the beans burn and chips over-cooked! Humph! But this did not stop the pleasure in the deglutition of the meal. The pork knuckle was so delicious tasting! The beans seasoned just right! The chips were crispy! And the mini-tomatoes, donated by a kind lady resident tomatoes were excellent! The Jenny-supplied apple rounded off a treat of a feast. Flavour-rating: 9.25/10!
00:10hrs: Woke, throne needed, struggled out of the recliner to the wet room. Things went a little easier today, but still messy. Little bleeding. No toe stubbing. But I managed to give the humerus and ulnar nerves a clouting on the corner of the door frame, as I came out of the door. When I temporarily lost control of the walking stick. It was the least I could do. After all, the ailments were being so kind to me this morning! Hehehe!
I got the kettle on, then decided to get the vegetables prepared, to marinate in the seasoning in the crockpot. I tried to recall the seasoning I used last week. Beef stock, hickory, and Sharwoods black bean sauce. I’ve not many tins of garden peas left now, so I’ll miss them off this time. No mushrooms to use either. Dangwangles!
I caught mt thumb on the bottom of the hot saucepan. Hard to believe that I could do something like that, I know. Hehehe! I put some vaseline on it, and it bubbled! 
By which time the appetite had returned, at the smell and sight of the bowlful of stew I’d cooked! The so-called braised beef in onion gravy just may have weighed 3-4 ounces at most! But, this did not fuss me too much, all the more onion gravy in the bag! Along with my (for once) successfully seasoned and cooked vegetables, they created a meal I gave an overall flavour rating of 9/10, too! 
When I did finally get settled to watch some TV, Law & Order episodes, (they usually send me to sleep at the first set of commercials), I got the feeling that the phone or mobile would go off and wake me. 
02:30hrs: I stirred into mock-life, and realised that just about everything attached to my wobbly-overweight stomach, was shaking to varying degrees. Shoulder-Shaking-Shirley was so bad, she was hitting my elbow on the recliner arm! Shaking Shaun had taken a fancy to the head and neck this morning. Worst perhaps, was Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failures were making it so difficult to sense anything hard, and getting up to respond to the urgent call to the Porcelain Throne was not easy! (The bonus, was, that there was no Neuropathic Schuhplattler dancing from the right leg) 
After much faffling-about, I got on my feet, caught my balance, grabbed at the four-pronged walking stick, dropped it, bent down to pick it up and ‘Klunk’ down on my knees I went! Bearing in mind, the imperativeness of my getting to the Throne in time was increasing! Humph! I actually appreciated having the shakes from Nicodemus at the time, because there was hardly any pain at all when Arthur Itis’s patelas hit the floor! That usually come later, when the transmitter nerves start working again. Unnerving getting pains and you can’t see or remember why! 
The veins in the pins had started to protrude again. The varicose were not too bad, mind. The spider and 
While in there, I did the teggies and had a shave. And very pleased with how it went, considering that Shirley didn’t ever stop shaking, although she kept altering the rate of power. And I only had two tiny cuts after the session! Smug Mode Adopted! 
To the kitchen, and put some bits in a carrier, to give to Jenny when she comes. As a thank you for helping me out again. 
I dug out some chips from the bottom of the freezer. Got a pate and a few tomatoes left to have with them. 
The landline flashed, it was the Chemist, telling me the prescriptions would be at the door in a few minutes. I waited five or six minutes, not wanting to make social-contact with the lady, and carefully opened the door, making sure she had gone first and collected the pack from where she had left it for me. 
01:45hrs: I stirred into an ersatz version of life; feeling otiose, vague, and in need of a non-alcoholic potation. As I removed my horrendously ever-growing stomach with thin arms and legs attached to it, from the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner, the innards gurgled, I started coughing, and wind passed involuntarily from the rear end! 
I got the kettle on, took the medications, again dropping the Omeprazole capsule, and made a brew of Glengettie. Into the computer desk, and had a look at the two-page, side-effects of the Omeprazole’s leaflet. But there was so much of it, I gave up. 
I tried for the ninth time in 24hrs, to get a Morrison Grocery order done. Hehehe! What a hopeful, old, gullible, senile idiot, I am! 
I did a try at getting some food from Ocado. Another negative, no slots available!
The cobs will be perfect with my beans later! Onions and carrots, I’ve got some parsnips in reasonable nick, in the fridge. Tomorrow’s meal sorted thanks to the donator. That frees me from the worry of having to go out today! Bless whoever it was! Canned mushy peas, baked beans, sardines. A yoghourt that unfortunately has the lethal to me cranberries in it. Milk, lemonade, tomato puree, and some white bread. So kind of them! Oh, and a can of orange pieces, a perfect after for me! 
The landline flashed and sounded, I woke and fumbled my way to the phone. It was Jenny, helping me out again! She had miraculously got through to Iceland to give an order. And, as is her natural, considerate, obliging characteristics, she asked if I would like anything adding to the order for Saturday. If I email her back with anything, she will add it to her order. Not many folks would think of that, but Jenny is special. 
My body just wanted to sleep, but I wanted to get back to Jenny and thank her and give a little list of items she had kindly asked for me to add to her Iceland delivery. Her delivery is for late on Friday, and Jen’ politely said she would not wake-me then, and bring it to me until Saturday morning. The lady is so thoughtful! So, a treat of braised beef in onion gravy cook-in-the-bag again for me this weekend after all! Bless yers, Jenny! 
The hickory seasoned beans with the last of the tomatoes, and triple-fried chips, and the Jenny-supplied bread, were smashing! 
As slowly as I was hobbling, and as carefully as I could, I still managed to give myself a toe-stubbing on the corner of the kitchen door! I held onto the door frame for extra support, closed my eye, and withheld the urge to cry out loud and swear! A few moments later, after a Thought Storm that was partly incomprehensible, but included niggling, depressive thoughts about my bad luck and stupidity, I got the medications from the drawer and imbibed them with a drink of spring water.
02:35hrs: I awoke, still feeling a tad groggy and tired. I waited for the brain to engage gear and the fog to lift from the grey cells, and things became mentally at least, active! By the time I’d had an enthusiastic and satisfying itch around my massive, wobbly, overweight midriff, I recognised the urgent need to get myself to the wet room! So I did! 
I few moments of Mind-Thoughts blasting: 
Spirits dipped a tad when I went to get the medications out of the draw. I am now taking the Warfarin doses blind. No blood test for weeks now, so obviously, I have no idea what amount I should be taking! At least if I am imbibing too much, it might just be cutting myself and bleeding to death, might happen if Little Inchies fungal lesion flows. Too little Warfarin, and a stroke, seizure or heart attack. But, of course, that’s providing that the Coronavirus doesn’t get me first! Or Duodenal Donald doesn’t burst open. Maybe Anne Gyna’ll get me? Or the mechanical ticker battery will run out? Or the blood cancer starts again? Perhaps, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters will go into complete failure? Or, the Peripheral Neuropathy may start an involuntary right leg Schuhplattler dance, when I’m crossing the road, and I’ll get squashed by a lorry? No, no, no! With the lock-down I’ll not be outside will I, and will there be any lorries on the road by then anyway? Ah, the part bullet still inside me might suddenly rust? Nae, its been no bother for donkey’s years. It’s a game innit? Hahaha! You’ve got to laugh!
By the time I’d stopped the Mind-Blast, the tea had gone cold. So I took the medications to the computer desk, oiled the ear-holes, creamed certain areas in need of the same, and made another brew. I noticed that I had acquired what looked like a scorch mark on my right hand? No doubt during a period of a Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitter failure and the nerves did not inform the brain.
I tried again to read my notes to use on the phone call with the help, from Angela. 
Embarrassing 
Odd that I should use the term I did there. Because that is the very thing that emitted from my innards moments later, a little sort of silent involuntary Plump, felt more than heard! I hastened to the Porcelain Throne, but didn’t make it in time! The evacuation again was under the control of my innards. Runny, messy, and smelly. Yet, still, the movement was painful? Had a shower and cleaned up, new PP’s on, and the trousers were thrown away, disinfected thoroughly, in a black bag on there own! Now my spirits sank, shame grew, and a despondency developed!
I then read about Morrisons supplying £35 food boxes, £10 delivery. But could not get to find them on the site, of course. 
I gave up computing and any thoughts of mind control as the head spun. 
00:00hrs: I reckon it must have been around midnight when I woke up. And I lay in uhtcearing mode, the mind stewing, pondering over this and that; Will I get the milk and bread on Morrison’s order? Why am I not shaking, Arthur Itis’s pains are none existent, the horrible ‘Hum’ is so loud, why? Can I keep it together today? How many new cases and deaths with Coronavirus will there be today? On, and on the Thought Storm blasted! 
As the song, composed by Lionel Bart, 
considering the text message that I got this morning, from Gov.UK. telling me I have to stay at home. 
An email came in from Morrisons re today’s delivery. No bread today, and they couldn’t deliver an alternative? On the plus side, they are letting me have a 9-pack of toilet rolls. They do help though, and with sending little food, it should help my dieting, and I should not need so many toilet rolls. Good, innit! 
I wonder if I might try grilling some bits of the carpet? I’ve got some sauces I have with it, out of date, fair enough, but still. Hehe! The British sense of humour saves the day again! 
Todays ordered three weeks ago, Morrison delivery arrived. I got it put away, clandestinely, not showing the rolls through the window. I wish I’d got a safe now!
I got the handwashing done, wrung and hung.
Come back the next day for a refund? Mmm? I’m confused and befuddled!
I took a photo from the unwanted, thick-framed, light & view-blocking, new anti-photographer designed kitchen window. I would have taken a shot of Chestnut Walk below as well, but the giant window ledge makes me have to use the step-ladder to reach out for the picture taking. Humph! 
As the meal was being served up, the intercom light flashed. I’m really glad I was in the kitchen at the time, cause the tune from the intercom wouldn’t have been heard with the fire door shut! It’s on its loudest setting too! It was an Amazon delivery chap, with the giant pack of instant potato-flakes that I’d ordered, at last! The man left them outside the door and had retreated to the lobby door, he shouted something I could not decipher, and I shouted a ‘Thank You’, as he ran off. And, I don’t blame him!
I opened the package, to reveal a ginormous bag of Maggi Potato Flakes. 4kg! Haha! 
I got the meal served up. I have to say, that I am amazed at how well the Piccolo tomatoes have lasted, over a week now and they have no signs of shrivelling up yet? I wonder if they have been irradiated? The Flavour rating for this slowly eaten and enjoyed feast was 8.8/10! Baked beans with Hickory, smoked ready-cooked bacon (Sadly all gone now!), tomatoes and the really different and gorgeous Truffle Fries! Which I have acquired a strong proclivity for. 
I fumble my body mass out of the recliner and fell on my knees. (Klunk, double-thud, Argh!) Luckily the phone is only two normal paces from where I fell, I used the swivel chair (but got away with it, Phew!) to get back up, and was sure the phone would stop ringing before I got to it. But no! I got there in time, pain as well, but pleased with myself for getting there on time at all! 
I took a photo of the pins (legs) as I took off the socks and trousers to get back in the recliner, I noticed how pale they looked compared to earlier? No way of guessing at why, with no Warfarin blood test results to assess with.
01:45hrs: Another ever-waking and nodding-off night! I’m getting frustrated with this nocturnal habit I seem to have caught! I waited for the mangled thoughts that were actively teasing my grey-cells, to dissipate. I looked around me and noticed that the curtains were open and partly hanging off the now broken rail, onto the floor. 
I opened the door to the kitchen, with anticipations of finding more signs and indications of my evening rummaging around. But it looked the same as I had left it, which was nice to see! I took a photo from the unwanted, unliked, light & view-blocking thick-framed kitchen window.
I went on CorelDraw, determined to get some much-needed graphics and page tops done. 
By gosh, they had returned to the insipid, pale, anaemic-looking state again. But the veins and clopidogrel marks were a great deal calmer.
I got the vegetables in the saucepan, trying a seasoning with an unknown taste. The 5% vinegar, and a drop of balsamic vinegar, oh, and some sea-salt.I tried to keep having a check on it. Parsnips, turnips, sugar snap peas and mushrooms. I hope to have them with some chips and franks, later.
So, I went t
The nosh was close to being ready to serve up. I nipped to have a quick wash, I didn’t want to mis if the man arrived with the toilet rolls! 
Settled in the £300 second-hand, c1968 rickety recliner with the nosn on the tray, and I have to claim that it was a cracking tasty treat! Everything was good, tastewise, and no potatoes or bread again. This new-found grit and determination to stick to a diet seems to be working! The vegetables were super! Everything else was decent enough! A flavour Rating of 8.3/10 given. 
I checked on emails, and they due up to 22:00hrs tonight. I tuened off the computer, and got the telly on, making sure the programmes I watched had sub-titles on them. I took the top picture on the right, from the unwanted, unliked, light & view-blocking, thick-framed, new kitchen windows. 
I got the pack inside, and found they were the second lot I had ordered. Cheaper, but much thinner and narrower than the Tork ones I’d ordered first. I remembered at the time, my EQ telling me they (the Topk ones) will never arrive. Looks like he was right again! Still, on the bright side, I do not need bother over struggling to get toilet tissue for a while. And, if anyone in the flats runs out, I can spare one to help them out now! That’s a good thing!
01:35hrs: Woke feeling like I had only had a half-an-hours sleep. Then I realised, that I had only had 30 minutes kip! But, that’s how it’s been lately. 
Little Inchies fungal lesion was not leaking! As I said earlier, I must not get carried away! 
I took a break, had a weak wee-wee, made some tea and had four-biscuits Before this new diet, it would have been a packet of bikkies! – I’m saying I wasn’t tempted, Hehe!) I had a read of the newsletter again, about us losing the L9 bus service, but nothing conf=rete came from it. They have twelve days to make their minds up what we are going to get, to replace the L9 bus. 
Back to sorting the photographs out for storage. As I was doing this, I was genuinely surprised to hear some banging and drilling. I soon realised it was not what I thought, about 05:00hrs, but it was gone by eight o’clock! The workers were doing something in the lift lobby. But it didn’t last long, ten-minutes at most. 
Yet, with good luck (At first, I thought). I went to get meal sorted, and had a bit of a dizzy, grabbed at the counter and knocked the cleaner spray flying. I lunged to catch in, knocking a saucepan off of the stove – but the handle actually attached itself to the bottle sprayer gun, and saved it falling down between the stove and cupboard! More good fortune! 
Then thought I heard a voice or music, and went to the front door, but no one was there? On the way back, I realised that it was the Alert Line controllers voice from the On-Call line. I must have caught the wrist alarm as I grabbed for the bottle. He was not too pleased, but he told me to take care. Ah, the luck starteth to turneth, I thought. (Boy was I unknowingly right too!) 
Twenty minutes or so later, I was placing the Halloumi on the plate with the dried food that had been sat there so long! Gerrangulations! I swapped the lettuce and salad leaves with some in the fridge. Added the peas from the saucepan, and was pleased to be about to feast on the resurrected plateful of nosh, as my hunger and phagomania grew! The lips ere licked… then… 
But, to be fair, apart from the sticks tasting like tar, (Yes, I have eaten it! Dad used to call at roadworks and get a lump off of his mates, get his penknife out and cut a lump off of the block for me to chew on!) it wasn’t too bad really. The meal I mean!) But I’m sorry I even tried to eat the Halloumi, Eurgh! I still gave it a taste-rating of 6.5/10. 
Got down in the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, rarely working, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner. The one that bullying xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward, and he fitted new CCTC cameras and searched for my valuables, which he found and took, (I still haven’t got them all back yet, eight-months later). This is he, my chaetophorous, anti-epilation Brother-in-law, Pete!
02:05hrs: I stirred from my slumber, feeling sedentary, reluctant to move. Jejune thoughts came and went; the brain didn’t want disturbing with anything too important. Nor in the least bit like any conscientious physical or mental activity! The maundering mind mused over puerile irrelevant facts and figures for awhile. The eyelids were heavy, and Borborygmus rumblings and gentle but scarily bubbly-sounding emissions of wind started in unison!
Off to the wet room, got the stick out of the way, and plumped down on the throne. It was hard-going, but I forced the activity along. I wish I hadn’t now – the pain! One unpleasant mess to clear-up and medicate afterwards. The whole nine-yards of hassle to deal with this morning. What a start to the day! 
However, I reckon that the pins (legs) were looking betterer than they were yesterday! There was undoubtedly hardly any hassle from Arthur Itis this Monday morning. Anne Gyna and Duodenal Donald were making up for this, though. The stabbing pains from Ann, and the dull droning aches from Donald. As I left the wet room, limping a little, the toe was still a bit tender, I took care in case any dizzies, or loss of balance came on, not to use the stick too close to the right leg. What am I saying? I get them every day! Every hour, or less sometimes! Stop being splenetic Inchcock! (“Okay, Sorry!”) I think the pins will soon be looking healthy again.
To the kitchen, where I was pleased to find I had not left any taps running, fridge door open, or parts of the stove left on! I got the kettle on and took a photographicalisation of the morning view. Made the brew of Glengettie Gold tea, and off to the computer to get the Sunday Diary updated. 
I took a break, had a wee-wee, of the WUPT (Weak-Unwilling-Painful-Trickling) so very slowly, variety. 
On the computer again. I had a check on the Amazon bits progress for today. Nothing crucial, each one a bit of a treat actually.
I got the chips in the oven and checked the vegetables in the Crock-
I did the washing up, took the medications and opened the three bits from Amazon. The salt & vinegar flavoured seaweed snack pack (Not tried yet), six packets of Japanese style seaweed crispies (delicious!), and the Moores Hickory Marinade (Very costly!) I’ll ask on the TFZer Facebook if anyone knows how to use this Marinade.
I put the boxes behind the £300, second-hand, grottily beige-coloured, c1968, not working, uncomfortable, falling to pieces recliner.