Inchcock would like to start this blog with one of his more heartwarming efforts, Ode-wise. Sentimental, uplifting, exhilarating style of Odeing. It’s part of his self-declared “I’m fed up with hearing myself moan” policy. Thank you!
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Wednesday 3rd August 2020
I spent five hours head down in the recliner last night. If I got about three hours of sleep, I was lucky. One of the worst “Shoot awake & nod-off again” nights ever. At 07:45hrs, A real shaking of a wakeup, with the need for a wee-wee, forced me to scramble free of the c1966 recliner and over to the overnight bucket. I failed to get Little Inchie out in time! Gragnangles! Off to the wet room. I was in a bit of a state, so decided to get another stand-up wash and a change of PP’s naturally. I gave the shower a go, just to see if might work, but there was no noise from the drain-forcer, and the red light came on, so I quickly turned it off at the power again. A got a stand-up washing of the affected areas. New pants on, and back out to the kitchenette to get the kettle on.
Carried out. With another set of fantastic results to savour.
SYS a phenomenal 126!
DIA at 69
Body temperature 33°f
Couldn’t ask for a better set of figures. Why, I’m down to near normal and in the green, to boot!
07:45hrs: Richard arrived, and he seemed in a slightly perkier mood today at first. But when he sat down, the yawning began again. After interrogating him, Hehehe! I discovered he’s had a bad night again.
He showed me the monitor the Diabetes clinic had fitted on his arm. He scans it twice a day, and the results go straight through to the hospital. True monitoring and a very natty system. Glad he’s got it, so a professional eye can keep tabs on his sugar level.
Not much time for nattering this morning, although he didn’t rush me at all. His body language and my EQ told me he wanted to get away early, and that’s fair enough for me. Hobbled him to the door, where he picked up the waste bags. Made sure that he’d got the bag of treats and wished him some sleep as we parted.
I spent hours on getting this blog template started, but it was hard work; the eyes are not so good, and it was a medley of mistakes, errors, correcting, and then finding the corrections were wrong as well! Time flew by, and I had so many breaks for wee-wees that I thought they would never stop! They didn’t, but did slow down a little after 14:00hrs!
My toffee-nosed, self-important, nyaff, noisy neighbour above kicked off with venom. And continued on and off, firth next five hours. Still, it’s nice to know he’s still alive.
The rumbling innards suddenly got more volatile, with involuntary emissions of wind from the hind quarters. And off on a hobble to the Porcelain Throne. One of the oddest visits in a long time. I got sat down on the Throne, and much wind escaped, but nothing else. I waited patiently, having a go at the crossword; for some reason, I could read the clues with less difficulty than usual. There’ll be a reason for that. If you find it, can you let me know, please?
Anyway, I gave up. got the pants and trews back on and was opening the wet room door, and winds started coming again, accompanied by the rumbling and grumbling innards. Back onto the Throne… for a repeat performance. seems likely that Constipation Konrad is in charge of the bowels, then? Another surrender, with that feeling that something has to, or will erupt at any time now. Most uncomfortable!
As I got into the hallway, with perfect timing, I was only two feet away from the panel: and the intercom rang forth! Yes, YES, it was the plumber arriving to investigate the shower!!!
He was a nice, patient chap. Listened s I explained at I was doing when the alarm went off, and he investigated for me. Five minutes later, he’s got the shower working again. And took the time to tell what had gone wrong with it. A filter had been blocked, and he’s changed it, well cleaned it up, good as new. Explained to me that if a lot of people use the showers at the same time, especially in the higher flats, sometimes the pressure changes. If this happens again, turn it off, and try again in a few minutes. I thanked him and insisted he take a cold drink from the fridge in thanks. Grrreat!
Put some potato cubes in the oven and made an order for Morrisons via Amazon for tomorrow morning. Then got the potatoes in the oven. I’m just having the spuds with some of Jenny’s donated tomatoes, I think. After eating this, maybe I can get some catching-up sleep. But, will I be able to?
Found this photo in the morning. Not the foggiest memory of making it or eating it… But when I saw this, a taste of the veggie burgers came into my mouth.
I think I liked it. Haha!.
Memory regained: When woke me up when she arrived. Obviously, I must have fallen asleep. I was so drowsy after she stirred me that maybe I’d just got off to sleep? It took me awhile to get things together? I remember getting her a cold drink from the fridge and Valerie leaving, then it was head down again… That was it until 00:20hrs when I woke in need of a wee-wee…
I’d like to start with my family, friends and flatmates here at Woodthorpe Court, in Sherwood, Nottingham
Roger Rabbit, waving to Lisa & Bill ♥
Their Mother & Father are my cyber-buddies, HRH Lisa, Billum and Alan, of Fort Thomas in the US of A. Lovely Gift; A smashing clan who sent them to me out of the blue, and I have a natter with them every morning! I made a family portrait this morning…
I woke up with a whopping great jump and jerk. It was of such magnitude it moved my body mass a few inches towards the edge of the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly-sickeningly beige coloured, tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly-recliner. A few more inches would have had me on the carpet, cursing and nursing Harold’s Haemorrhoids! Hehehe!
Of course, that was the end of any sleeping, so I lay a few seconds to work out what day and time it was and any actions or activities required… But here was the watch? No longer on my wrist?
I soon found out what I’d done with it – fourteen hours later, I found it on the floor, behind the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner.
During the ablutionalisationing, I realised I had not got my watch on. “Ah, well,” I thought, “It’ll be on the ottoman!” Finished off and made a brew of Glengettie. But…
Refilling the kettle, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley kicked off. Talk about bad timing! Harrumph! The water went all over the previously washed and dried cutlery and crockery, down the front cabinet of the sink and down my trousers, socks and slippers, and onto the kitchen floor…
It took me ages to get it sorted and dressed again. I seem to be doing this a lot more often lately. Dementia Doreen? SSS? Peripheral Pete? Cataract Kathleen? Haha! Who knows which will get the blame.
Made a fresh mug of tea and got on the computer, rather pleased to be making an early start on the blog. Ha!
I had to do other jobs and kept nipping back to see if Liberty-Global, the company with a Revenue of: 12.98 billion USD (2021), who bought out Virgin Media Internet, are even worse than the scumball BT internet was… Not that Herr Fries is bothered. Don’t I pick them!
Did the health checks, and the internet was back on. But to for long, ten minutes maybe…
Pee’d off with this already! The Iceland delivery arrived. They had substitutes plain sausages again for the unavailable microwave ones! That’s the fourth time this year, I’ve sent them back each time, but they keep subbing them.
The strawberries and tomatoes were from Morocco. The strawberries had some slime on a few, which I threw away. The mini-cherry tomatoes were substituted for vine ones and tested for taste… Bloody Hell! I’ve tasted a tomato so foul and bitter in my life! Eurgh! They hadn’t any brown cobs in stock either! All in all, a bad do! I put the crap away.
Tried the computer again. It had come back on at last. For around a half-hour, then…
Well, obviously not that much… Git!
My morning Carer called and sorted me out. It was her first call. She came in without ringing the door chime and gave me a nervous tick! Even if she shouts out when she walks in, I can’t hear her with my hearing. Still, I wasn’t using the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) when she came in. Hehehe!
Aha! The internet came back on… Thank you, Mr Fries. Got the post finished and sent off. Facebooking, and it happened again:
Liberty-Global has disassociated itself with Virgin Media; they do not mention that they own and fail to run it, hoping that Richard Branson will get the blame, I think?
One more effort once it came back on. Most anger-making and revenge prompting! But this time, I had to close everything down and off and reboot the box and computer.
I’ll have to give up on this; Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet has gone off again! My language is crude at the moment. I am willing and wishing that Fries drops dead immediately. It won’t matter to me cause he can’t run the service anyway. He’s a number-cruncher, accountant, actuary, bean-counter, bookkeeper, calculator, con-man. His use of smoke and mirrors, off-shore account movements etc., are his strengths. A wanker of a banker! Indeed, he has no people-care or customer sensitivity.
I’ve lost all my heart in blogging now. I’ll get something to eat, give up until morning, and then try again to use LIBERTY-GLOBAL Virgin Media Internet. But I’m not confident… well, I am in a way – I feel sure that Fries will let things get worse… there’ll be a financial fiddle of some sort involved in the situation, I’m sure. But he is obviously trying to destroy a company, his company, that paid around $2.4 billion to buy out… why? Back-handers? Mafia? Money Shuffling & Juggling? Banking fiddle? You scratch mine – I’ll scratch yours?
Bribery and manipulation? Or just money-making savviness via greedy, devious, underhand means? Just a thought! Why is he shoving all the much-travelled money of Liberty-Global into telecom and internet companies the world over? When he obviously is incapable of providing a reliable service? A money-predatory and manipulative Con-Man supreme!
Today’s end car park inspection photograph.
Carer Valerie arrived. Just after I’d realised that I had no hot water from the taps (faucets). She was kind enough to find and write ht telephone number of the Nottingham City Homes Repairs in large letters so I could read it. I was a little nervous to ring yet if I had made a cock-up leaving a tap running or something. (The hot water was back on in the morning, Phew!) Off went Valerie taking the bags o the waste for me on her way. Thank you!
Herbert was giving it some hammer tonight; I wonder what he’s making this time. I found a picture that I’d taken last week, possibly from Thursday when I visited the foot lady at the hair salon appointment farce.
Washed and changed into the night attire, and I made up a bottle of spring water and lime juice. I did a couple for Carer Richard, who may come on Monday, and stored them in the fridge, so they will be nice and cold for him.
Hot much of a sunset again tonight, but still beautiful to me, even with the muted hue and colours.
I used the Canon camera. As for some reason, the Fuji developed a thick white line down the centre of the screen, and I could not remove it? Turned it off and then back on, but no luck; still there?
As I got down on the recliner to watch some TV, I took this snap of my legs. Not a pretty sight!
The fattiness in both legs was returning, or it might be water-retention, but I think not. I wish I knew why I felt that, but I cannot remember why now, Tsk! (Sunday morning)
Cartilage Cathy on the right and Arthur Itis on the left knee, can you see? The veins are shallower tonight, and the hairs have suddenly turned grey? The funny side of this shot was the feet not showing. Hahaha!
An Ode to an ‘Orrible Day
My signing with Virgin Media was happenstantial,
The computer… to be precise, Liberty-Global,
Ran by Mike Fries, money-mad and ignoble!
Who bought out Virgin Media, most controversial,
Liberty-Global is crap; blame is cunningly deflectable…
They keep shtum about owning Virgin Media – detestable!
So Richard Branson gets the blame, a sort of Guilt-Burial!
My hatred for Mike Fries is substantial…
Well, his hatred of customers is evidential…
His lousy internet seems to him inconsequential,
He still gets paid a fortune, and management are reverential?
The sickening signs of fiddling figures are torrential!
Although my evidence is only circumstantial…
And comes from a customer who is uninfluential,
Liberty-Global’s ever failing service makes me demential!
23:40hrs: I removed my over-flabbily-bellied body from the c1968 recliner and utilised the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket). A short sharp affair, with a lot of CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribble) to follow.
No messing about, I got on the computer to create a template for today’s blog. Starting with doing a few graphics on CorelDraw. But, I didn’t get too far, the call to the Porcelain Throne arrived, so, off to the wet room. Incidentally, Cartilage Cathy was a lot kinder to me this morning.
It seemed to me that the daily PTDDSB (Porcelain Throne, Daily-Domination-Stakes- Battle) for supremacy in the evacuation was a close thing. Still, a comeback from Constipation Konrad had curbed the rampant messy tendencies of Trotsky Terence for once! So, I had a go at the crossword puzzle as I waited for things to kick-off. Just as yesterday, I didn’t solve a single clue! (Well, I’m consistent, if not capable. Hehehe! The movement started slowly and stayed that way, but no pain or bleeding, and as I said, it was a lot less mess to clean up. I still had to refill the tank by hand though, I think the problem is the fluffy too-thick toilet roll paper.
Back to the grahicalisationing, I went. Then made-up and started this template. Which took me ages to get this far with. Then, I went on to update the Wednesday Diary, at long last. I got it updated fully, emailed the link and went on the WordPress Reader section. Which I enjoyed considerably. Pinterested a couple of photographs, the read and replied to the WP comments that had come in. Some witty puns and quips came on this Thursday.
I was about to start collating the advance templates and realised the hours had shot by; it was time to get the ablutions tended to. As is usual with me, I got into the kitchen and got myself sidetracked once more.
I decided to get the hand-washing done first. But and however – guess who had left the hot water tap (faucet) to run cold? Yes, pickle-brain Inchcock had struck-again! Gawd-blimey, I this far too often! Hence decision had to be made (another Inchcock problem area!) My EQ told me there nothing to do but press on handwashing boiling the water in the kettle and saucepan, for more Whoopsiedangleplops were on their way! He also called me a name, a naughty one!
So, the half-hour or so handwashing exercise took me nearly two hours! Not to mention the scolding of two fingers fetching the kettle to the sink… Oh, I’ve said it! It’s a good job that I was in a slightly better mood today! I washed the long-sleeve jumper, the jammie-bottoms and the pair of long bamboo diabetic socks. The washed ones from yesterday were not fully-dry enough to put on today, so I got a couple of 100% short-ones to adorn after the ablutions to wear.
Then, as I checked the dryness of the other things that were hanging above the kitchen window, with perfect-timing, Peripheral Pete went into an involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance routine! This caused me to drop the coat-hangars and the washing I had in my hand. Belt Cathy Cartilages knee against the floor cupboard, and hit my head against the heater getting back up again!
I made a start on moving the stuff back into the cupboard, but soon lost interest!
My new found emotions of satisfaction, semi-contentment and renewed hopes sank without a trace! I took some painkillers and moped my way to the wet room, leaving the clothes where they had fell on the floor, and swearing a little still, got to the wet room, totally uninterested in what I was there for! Pissed-off would be a quicker way of putting things!
Had I been aware of what was waiting for me, I wouldn’t have gone in! The worse Ablution session in months!
I realised there was no hot water to be gleaned from the sink tap for shaving! But felt sure I would manage using the hottish water from the shower-head without any bother (What an idiot!)
Have you ever had to keep going to the other side of the wet room, and with Peripheral Pete shaking me about like a good un, repeatedly, bring the shower-head, which only just reaches the sink, and spraying the tepid water all over yourself and the room? It’s not easy! The cleaning up afterwards wasn’t either!
The de-nasalising went well. No water needed, you see! One dropsy only!
The teeth-cleaning had a bit of discomfort.
Then the shaving began. I had to keep emptying the sink of the water that went too cold, turning up the thermostat, and dial, to get as hot that I could from the control panel, but it wasn’t scorching enough, even then.
The whole shaving job was farcical in the extreme. Although having said that, there were only five dropsies! A few little nicks and one cut under the chin. One the throat, two in the neck-hole, and one on the cheek.
I got belated Health Checks done next. The Boot’s, made in China Sphygmomanometer’s SYS reading was fantastically low! Grrreat!
At least I think it is; hang on, I’ll check on Mr Google later on.
The in Hong Kong produced, Chinese Harpin Xian Di contactless thermometer reading was, I think, a smidge high, but well down on yesterdays worrying high of 37.9°c – 100.22°f.
Since the side-effect-ridden AstraZeneca Covid-19 vaccination was given to me a week last Saturday, SYS has also been higher, its the lowest reading today than for ages. I think I might be getting confused here, between the SYS and the temperature? Well, fancy that!
I found an NHS site on Google, where you can put in your reading for SYS and DIA, and you get an instant show of where you stand on the chart, with a black cross! Proof that I was right to worry when the SYS went up to 180 five days ago, well, that was well in the red area!
Gotten Himmel! Look at the time! What happened, where did it go?
I’d better close down and get my pre-planned, easy, tasty (I was well wrong there!) meal prepared. I’m afraid the beautiful looking Iceland bought tin of tomatoes was terribly bland, tasteless, watery. Savourless and unappetising. These Don Holio chopped tomatoes needed a warning giving-out about them for anyone unlucky enough to buy any. The Sainsbury crispy smoked ready-cooked bacon slices were very fatty tasting as well! The last of the sourdough bread saved the meal. A flavour-rating of 4.5/10 was granted. Reluctantly to a degree! Eurgh!
However, and leaving the pots in the sink in cold water to be cleaned when I have some hot water again, in the morning, at first, I was well-pleased that I was in time to watch the channel 11, Tales of the Unexpected episodes.
I stayed awake until the first set of commercials, and Sweet Morpheus visited me, and off into the land of nod I floated.
And slept for four unbroken hours, which was so nice! Ahh!
02:20hrs: I stirred, dreary-eyed, and found in the folds of my tummy fat layers, a page from the notepad, and as I looked down, a pencil dropped from behind my earhole. The reading glasses were hanging on the very end of my nose and fell off to join some (I found as I began to move), biscuit crumbs as well. Nocturnal Nibbling Guilt!
The scrawl on the paper was hard to decipher. Bits I could make out were, ‘dreams put in the blog’ and ‘wee-weeing…’ But unfortunately memories of having the dreams I’d apparently had were lost into the ether. They must have been interesting, or I would not have made the regrettably unreadable comments on the pad. Shame!
I went through the routine of getting up, catching the balance easily enough this morning. Noticing that the ankle ulcer was clearing up so quickly (Not complaining). The papule underneath the left foot was still tender, even though it had grown back on the bottom of the foot.
I tended to the Health Checks first.
The Harpin Xian Di Thermometer gave a good reading of 36.7°c, a very fair, in the green range result. Then, I got the sphygmomanometerisationing machine out to use, wondering if it will take a few tries to get it to work today, and worked on the third effort: The SYS was still a little too high, but it’s been worse many a time.
As I took the medications, I thought I heard a noise coming from the hallway, I went to investigate. There was a letter on the floor at the door, but that must have been there from yesterday. No one would be posting letters at 03:25hrs of a morning, so that wasn’t the noise I heard. No signs of anything fallen was identified, so I returned, and got the medications taken.
Then I opened the letter. It was an eight paged A4 notification, from HMG (Her Majesties Government), Department of Health & Social Care. It consisted of the following: Guidance for the festive period – Shielding – Access to health & care – Important Information about Covid-19 – Access to Additional Support – Vitamin D supplements – Socialising -Care & Support – Tier 1, 2, and three rules to follow – Going to the shops and Pharmacy regulations. Whether or not I will live long enough to read and digest it all, is questionable.
But, Hatt Mancock’s… sorry, Matt Hancock’s end quote of “We will Continue To Support You in your efforts to keep yourself & others safe!” gave me a warm-glow of bile, that did.
I assume he may be talking about my not getting my prescriptions without a battle on the phone each month with the Chemist I must not visit, to get them delivered? Or being unable to get my toe-nails cut? Or the cancelled Oncologist – Cardiothoracic – Endocrinologist – Pulmonologist – Neurologist – Urologist and Audiologist cancellations?
Or maybe as is likely, he’s more working towards the next general election than actually bothered about us all. He feels a bit of creeping and ersatz care pretending now, belatedly shown will ensure the votes? Who knows? You can’t blame him! Hahaha!
I remember the then New health secretary Matt Hancock receiving £32,000 in donations from the chairman of the think tank that wanted the NHS ‘abolished’! Matt Hancock received nine donations between £2,000 and £4,000 from the man who heads the board of the free-market group, the Institute of Economic Affairs.
I also remember him, defending his spending almost £50,000 on takeaways for his staff from just one London restaurant during the peak of the Covid crisis. The Department of Health and Social Care (DHSC) spent a total of £47,528 on takeaways from Bong Bong’s Manila Kanteen earlier this year, a Freedom of Information (FOI) request has revealed. Just nine orders costing £43,348 were placed at the fashionable “Filipino-inspired” eatery during April, then another £4,179-worth of orders placed in March! Just thought I’d mention it!
I got the updating of the Friday post done quickly. Sent it to WordPress. Did some Facebooking catch-up, then on the WordPress Reader section. Finally, got around to site comments.
Made the first mug of Glengettie tea of the day, and had a bag of Frazzles with it, well, no time for brekkers, I have to get on with making the templates up.
I took regular breaks over the.. wait for it… seven-hours I spent, getting the templates finished! The first being for some brekkers, of sorts. I had a pot noodle, and some nuts to nibble.
Back on the template slog.
Turned everything off computer-wise, to let it cool down, and got the ablutions done.
The ankle was looking much better now, but had still got the odd itching, with it? Feeling as if worms or maggots were underneath the skin?
The session went safely enough, dropsies of course, and just the one nick shaving.
The medicating went so easy as well!
I got the clothes all washed and sanitised afterwards and hung them on the dreaded, not used now if I can avoid it, doing so by not wearing any socks, Sock-Glide.
I must make an order for delivery soon, I’m low on disinfectants.
I got the unopened old but ere new when I bought them, trousers on. They were classed as brown, but only just. Hehe!
They fitted perfectly. Well, what I mean is; The legs were far to narrow, my ever-growing, bulging, flabby-belly made it hard work to fasten the waistband clip, the pockets were too small, the cotton thread hung from the bottom of the legs, the belt buckle supplied with the trews broke. The bum fitted a little too snuggly. Other than that, they were fine. Oh, and the back pocket had a hole in it!
I hand-washed the old black trouser, all done, done, rung and hung above the sink to drip dry.
Back to the templating. I got the computer going again, and got a message telling me that the hard drive is running low in space. I’ve no idea where the message came from, Microsoft, Google or the computer. After a few moments of frowning and fretting – the message disappeared?
I took a breather, of sorts when it started to be a grind, rather than pleasure, in doing the CorelDrawing.
I made up the small waste bags, added them to the others in the box, and got them on the three-wheeler guide, and taken off to the waste-room and down the chute. As I got into the lift lobby, I used the Cannon (It’s far easier to use when on the move, cause it fits in the pocket, which the Nikon Bridge camera will not do, too big). The first one, the view as I entered the lobby straight ahead, the none along the length of the lift lobby, and one as I turned around and snapped the three flats lobby. Mine being the solitary single one on the right. It was eerily quiet out there! With no workers, no noise from Herbert, and even the blasted ‘Hum’ seemed quieter to me?
I got the bags down, in the process gaining a pretty deep blue bruise on the knuckles as I trapped the hand as the lid shot back closed.
Back to the apartment, and took these shots of the darkening day from the gallery.
Back to the templating again. I worked through uninterrupted for a few more hours. Got the templates finally finished and began thinking of what to have for my nosh. As I nosied around to see what was available, favouring doing the meatballs and potato shapes, to help clear the freezer, then I can free Jenny’s space up and fetch the meatballs she has kindly stored in her freezer for me.
Then it hit me, the usual late weariness, lack of concentration and feeling of being oh, so tired and worn out.
I decided against doing the meatballs, in case I fell asleep with them being in the oven for much longer. I got the potato shapes out of the freezer, and dropped the damned bag, catching it before it hit the floor, but a few of the shapes fell out. I noticed as I picked them up that the letters spelt ‘Thick’. (A link there somewhere?) – Ah, clairvoyant potatoes? Hahaha!
The sky was changing as I farted-about making a right mess in preparing the cooking. Nicolas’ Neurotransmitter had been so kind all day. Still, it now was causing some dangerous situation with the oven and saucepan, like. I took a photo and another close-up of the picturesque peeping pink evening view.
Getting the pasties and potatoes out of the fridge, I caught my right arm on the oven. Puggleclumpdimwit! Ah, well!
I got the fodder l plated, and was amazed at the fact that I’d just made this meal! I was so, out-of-it, and drained? I must have engaged auto-pilot—a taste-rating of 7/10.
Too was tried to bother doing the washing up, and I required Sweet Morpheus.
But the Thought-Storms destroyed my hopes. Spurgledamnations!
03:30hrs: Sometimes, one isn’t really, too keen on getting up, and would rather just lay there, and uhtceare instead, trying to avoid any dangerous or serious signs of any expergefactor that may be lurking. This was one of those mornings.
The oh, so late getting to sleep after yesterdays farcicalness, favourable moments, and frustrations, meant only four hours kip, and annoyingly when I did wake, it was one of those jump-awake ones. Cragnangles!
I rose from the recliner onto my feet, in need of a wee-wee, and hobble to the EOGPB (Emergency-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket), and on the first shuffle of the feet, got an electric-shock like stabbings of pains from the papule underneath the left foot. I’ll have a check on it later, the plaster may have come off in the night and is pulling at the pimple?)
The Sainsbury’s substituted wrong-sized Protection Pants had not handled the PMD (Pre-Micturition-Dribble), and AMD (After-Micturition-Dribble) well, at all. Also, they held less comfort and were not very warm to wear. Thank you, dear silly-Substitutes Lord Sainsbury, Baron, and Knight of the Garter. I hope your personal wealth increases from the current £1.4 billion. Carry on with stupid substitutes and it will. Better hurry though, after all, you are 93!
I went into a sort of auto mode then. Washed my hands, into the kitchenette and put the kettle on. I took some pictures from the unwanted, unliked, light & view-blocking new windows, to first try and get a decent shot of the moon. On taking the first effort, SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) paid me a visit and left me with this almost looking like a lightning snap. So, had another bash, and got a fairish result.
I got a reasonable zoomed in a bit shot, of Sherwood, with Basford, Perry Road HMP, and the lights from Bulwell and the motorway on the horizon. (I know you can’t see them, but it makes me sound cleverer, Hahaha!) Then a blind shot of the car park below on Chestnut Walk, only one red car this morning. (I hope Billumski The Chairman and Director of the RCMS from Utah is making a note of this) As I got the brew of Glengettie made, SSS returned, and sheer good luck with her timing, meant no spillages or Accifauxpas. Good luck? For me, and so early in the day…? Nae, this can’t be right! You can take it from me, via my EQ, that summat Whoopsiedangleplopish is in the air and on the way!
I got the sphygmomanometer out, and the machine needed three goes to get it to work. Mind you, the reading was down a smidge more, for the third day on the trot! But I’m not getting excited about it, not with my luck. Egads, no!
The Chinese made contactless thermometer, made with plastic from India, and imported from Soth Korea, showed a temperature of 36.2° c. Which I think is not too bad at all.
I got the medications out, and realised I had yet again, not taken last night’s! So, I did. Must remember to take the morning ones later on. Made a brew of Glengettie tea, and got the computer on. I had to divert to the Porcelain Throne, then.
And, what a change in style that was today! I got seated, as directed by the gastroenterologist had advised me… well, commanded me really! The wait for any action to start was a long one. That’s when I got the crossword book from the cabinet. After an aeon or two of puzzling, I adopted the recommended straightening of the lower back while I was leaning and pushing the shoulders… Nothing happened… Apart from BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) starting to give me a pasting! Granglesbognessbuggerit! I think she was still annoyed at my tumble last night.
Once a slight motion, a forced pone though, was felt, slowly, grindingly and needing painful encouragement, things eventually moved… reluctantly, painfully, and at a snail’s pace! I was close the giving out a, Argh!, but held it back.
No doubt about it, Trotsky Terence was whipped 5-0 by Constipation Konrad this time.
As I rose from the seat to have a decker at what had caused all this agony, I was taken aback by the amount of blood that had exited. I got myself cleaned up, washed the tender areas, and applied some very welcome Germoloid ointment to Harold’s Haemorrhoids! You should have seen my walk back to the kitchen, well, maybe not!
In keeping with my fantasmagorical luck, I now had several additional ailments to contend with all at the same time, which made hobbling somewhat difficult. Still, it must have been most hilarious for anyone to watch. The head was aching a bit from the fall, the lower back was being taken care of by a particularly, violent BPB, and Harold’s Haemorrhoids have rarely been more painful! Then Dizzy Dennis joined in as I was in the hallway – not again, I prayed! I don’t think I would be able to get back up again if I did topple over now.
Made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, each one I’ve made has gone cold for one reason or another. Humph! I was showing no signs of wanting any breakfast today. But I did take an extra Dioctyl® poo-softener capsule (And another one later!)
I concentrated of updating the Monday blog. It took a while, and some odd noises were coming from somewhere nearby, sounded like someone was dropping wooden blocks repeatedly? I might be something going down the chute a little early? Anyway, I got the post finished and sent off to WordPress. Emailed the link, and went on Pinterest, and it was soon time to get the ablutions done.
I took this shot of the moon on my way to the wet room.
At last, a decentish ablution session. It had it’s moments though. The dropsies were about average, I reckon.
The shaving was smidge hair-raising, and that’s not easy when you have no hair! Hahaha!
All the cuts and nicks were from the back of the neck. It’s not fair hair growing there and nowhere else! Snigger!
No shower today, the Iceland order is due, oh, and the Amazon PPs might be arriving today. After an easy medicationing session and getting dressed, I hand-washed the long-sleeve tee-shirt.
The day was breaking and the sky clearing, an amazing colour too. I managed to get a reasonably decent shot of the late moon before it disappeared.
Suddenly it very busy! The intercom rang, it was the Amazon man with the PP’s for me. He came up and put them in the hallway for me. Followed by the Iceland driver, he also put the bags into the hallway for me, bless ’em both.
I took the carriers through to the kitchen, intending to sort out the frozen and fresh stuff first. But I was so interested in seeing the new PP’s I couldn’t resist sorting them first instead.
I got the box onto the server in the kitchen and struggled a bit to get the plastic cover off of the box. It was only thin material, but by gum it strong!
I got it off in the end! I wish they would sell them of this strength to use as bin bags, I made up[ waste bags as I went along.
The three packs of eight looked similar to the other ones from Sainsbury’s, but were cheaper and the correct size.
I’ll try them on afterwards I thought, then changed my mind, I’d got the Sainsbury ones on at the time. They are not very warm and a little small, if I had a bad leakage, I don’t think they would cope with the amount of blood. I put them in the wet room with the others and sorted the groceries out.
Oh, dearie me, what have I done here? I’d ordered in error, two bags of the frozen meatballs, also two of the fish strips in the batter. I imagine because they were on offer if you bought two, I’d unthinkingly ordered two of each. No way will I have space in the freezer for them all! I struggled to make room for one of each in the freezer.
I’ll see if Jenny can use the others. The other bits went in the fridge, okay, mind. I cleared up[ a bit (when I say a bit, I mean it! Haha!), and got the bags with the fodder in, and a box of waste-bags on the trolley.
I set out, with intentions of going to Jennys (I phoned her on my way, with my new Samsung-Galaxy S20 Ultra-mobile, 512MB, £1,399 for 128GB storage, with its gargantuan 6.9in display, and hole-punch camera, and ‘Space Zoom 100x’), and then to go and see Deana and Julie, then back to the flats and put the rubbish bags in the waste chute. But life is never that clear-cut for a twit like me!
Then a series of Inchcock-Hiccups followed!
I dropped the bag at Jenny’s, bless her, she said she’d keep the fish and meatballs in her fridge of a few days until I get the room in my freezer, to take them back. Appreciative of Jen’s help, and feeling in higher spirits now, I set of in the lift down to the ground floor. I met the caretaker, and he took the bags off of me. After a little natter, I limped along Chestnut Way to Winwood Court, and Deana’s Interrogation Cells. (Haha!)
As I arrived at the Winwood doors, I realised I had left the wrong bag with Jenny! What a pillock! So I had to go back to Jenny’s to swap the carriers. She was very understanding about it and met me at the door, and we exchanged the containers. I was feeling a little silly, but worse was to come later!
I made my way back down and out to Winwood Court again. As I approached the lobby, I realised I did not have a keyfob with me. Glory-Be and Granglesbognessbuggerit!!! Then a stroke of luck! A workman was entering the building, and I tagged on behind him and got in! Had a chinwag with Deana and Julie, told them of my cock-ups, that made them laugh.
Back to Woodthorpe Court. Where Robert let me in through his side door! And I made my way back up to the flat. I was feeling rather foolish at my Accifauxpas and was beginning to get annoyed with myself.
I made a brew of Glengettie, surely this time, I can get to drink one? But, no! Not yet! Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters let me down, just I picked up the brewed mug of tea – on the Silver lining side, the mug fell in the plastic waste bin and not the floor, so didn’t break! Unfortunately, I scolded my wrist and spilt tea on my trousers, which didn’t do the legs any favours! Then I had to clean everything up! I was tired out and on the verge of getting depressed now!
Gone my head-down time. But, Jenny had told how to cook the meatballs, I had planned to have chips with them, but cooking the balls in the oven, I decided on having potatoes, peas and gravy. I got the oven on. And checked on comments on WordPress
I’ll get the meal served up then. Fingers crossed. Jenny was right when she told that doing the meatballs in the oven, they would come out crispy. They did, and I liked them. Added them to the peas and potatoes in the big saucepan, made some thick gravy and added it to the mix, and warmed through. Got the pots made a mess off washed, stirring the mix in between. Got it dished up and enjoyed the Flavour-Rated 7/10 meal with some bread thins to soak up the gravy—a lemon yoghourt for afters. I was getting more and more tired, so I got up to get the pots washed properly, in case I fell asleep and dropped the tray etc.
Settled in the recliner, drained mentally, wanting to free the eyelids to do what comes naturally. The absence of any Thought-Storms was appreciated. But the vacuum left in my hypnagogic state was filled with a blankness that was not blank… hard to explain. Still, weird worries drifted in, and, more disturbingly, were treated with contempt and annoyance at their even being there?
I must have fallen asleep, cause I woke up at 02:20hrs.
I’m sending wishes through the ether, that this will happen! ♥
Sunday 29th November 2020
Sunday 29th November 2020
01:30hrs: I stirred, and was amazed to find I had slept for over five uninterrupted hours – and this after the night before’s mammoth sleep-in? I seem to have changed suddenly from an insomniac to a narcoleptic? Why I ask? I’m still waiting for an answer. Hehehe!
The mind seemed to be more responsive as well, the thoughts seemed more apparent when I talked to myself. A degree of uncustomary determination lingered as well; The Sainsbury order is due early today, Josie’s meal needs preparing and delivering, and I recalled that I’d put the new tube of Germoloid in the wet room.
I was a smidge disappointed in myself when I saw the untaken evening pot of medications still on the Ottoman, though. I mused for a few seconds, on why I am suddenly missing so many night tablets so often? But got no reply from the brain, which decided that a mug of Glengettie tea was more important.
So, I removed my overly-stomached body from the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly, sickeningly beige-coloured, dirty, unstable, broken-down, uncomfortable, rusty, rickety, rachitic, recliner, and up onto the feet to catch my balance. And this, usually a struggle at times, even causing Accifauxpas, was done with fantastic ease! Grabbed Metal-Micky, and was so glad I did, cause, en route to the kitchen, I had a bit of a wobbly, had I not got the stick, I could easily have gone over. I put the kettle on.
Musing over what a mixed start to the day it’d been so far, and I’d only been up for a few minutes? It was foggy outside, and it looked so cold with it, I decided against taking any open window photographs. Made the brew, and back to the ottoman get the Health Checks done, all in auto-mode.
The sphygmomanometer needed a couple of tries to get it to work. The first effort indicated I’d snuffed it. Hahaha! But at least try two showed the SYS was down a tad, to 160. The thermometer showed a lower temperature too, at 36.1°c.
My aboulomania flourished, as I thought about what to do about the missed medications. I took the evening ones as I did yesterday, and must remember to take the morning ones later on.
Then, as I turned, I hit my head on the corner of the door. Not badly, I’ve had many worse ones, but it seemed to spark a change in my everyday routine?
Instead of getting on with the computerisationing as I always do after the balance, and health checks and medication taking: Amazingly, I got the dark blue zip-up jerkin hand-washed? All done, wrung and hung on the coathanger to dry, but why?
Got the computer on, and instead of cracking on with the IT diary updating, I went on Facebook updating?
Finally, I went onto the updating of the Diary. A long job, but as Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) and Saccades-Sandra were all in a good mood with me, I got it completed reasonably quickly. (This was worrying – something going right!)
Made a brew of Thompsons Punjana, and the summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived, off to the wet room. The daily battle between Trotsky Terence and Constipation Konrad was a massive defeat for Konrad, 4-0. Talk about yucky, a monstrous, messy, mass, manoeuvred into the bowl. A lot of effort needed to clean things furniture-wise and bodily followed—a good wash around, and back to the Computer.
Posted the diary off to WordPress. Emailed the link, and Pinterested a few snaps from the post. Then made a start on this template.
Around 06:00hrs, I heard a shuddering clunk, it sounded like it was from close-by. I had a poddle around in my bestest Sherlock Holmesian style, but could not find what it was that caused it? I hope no one has had a fall above me.
I started this writing for a while but had to stop. The ablutions needed doing, so I would be all prepared in time, in the case of the Sainsbury order arriving on the button at eight o’clock.
Back in a bit… I hope!
I’m back! I got sidetracked again going to get the ablutions done. I went hand-washing mad again. (No, I don’t know why either, it must be the bang on the head? Hehehe!)
I have to say, although it was a stand-up wash and shave, it went tremendously well. No teeth problems, only one cut shaving, only two items knocked off of the cabinet and no more than ten dropsies in total. More good fortune! (Even more worrying, especially with the Sainsbury order coming, overcharging and bad subs will almost certainly come with the food? – My EQ has just warned me!)
As I was getting staggering around getting dressed, and putting on a slipper, a sharp pain was felt underfoot! The sort you get when you stand on something sharp, or a shard of glass. It was hard-work, painful, plaguy and galling, taking a photo of the wound. The Robert Morley like stomach tended to get in the way, Haha! I think it was a new papule coming up. Gawd it didn’t half sting when I put the foot down.
Sorry about the photo coming out in mono. Yet another mysterious wonder of Woodthorpe Court: The Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, Hallucinations. Materialisations, Poltergeist, Lemures, Spectres, Spirits, Spooks, Eidolons, Wairuas, Kehuas, 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 Satanic mission, to hinder, scare, blight, embarrass, manacle, and throw a spanner in Inchcocks works, plans, hopes, and confidence! Which they succeeded in, but they usually do!
I took some photographs from the unliked kitchenette window. The fog (when writing this six hours or so later) only got thicker as the day went on. Oh, dear!
Then I got the hand-washing finished off, the green quilt I’d left to soak in the sink bowl. I rang it out as best I could, and got it on the stand-up clothes airer in the hallway, being careful not to hang over the electricals at the bottom. Not everyone can say that, Hehehe!
Back into the Steptoe & Son-like front room, and got the computer back on.
Incidentally, the wee-wees were few and far between today. I just thought I’d mention it like.
Moments later, the intercom rang out and lit up. T’was the Sainsbury order arriving. The driver’s first words were; “Sainsbury order, are you coming down to pick the stuff up?” I gave an “Oh… well, I’ll have to, I suppose!” I farted about getting a mask on, and the intercom went again. The driver asked if we had a lift. I said yes, and he said he’d bring the stuff up then. Thank heavens for that!
He arrived, just as I had a dizzy at the front door, he showed concern and unloaded the good into the box and two bags (As orders go, this was a biggun!) Then he carried them through to the kitchen for me. I thanked him, then got the paperwork out, to see what was what, substitution wise.
Well, there were a few concerns. The PP’s (Protection-Pants), had been substituted with smaller-size ones!
Plus, they were different from each other? I’d ordered two large size packets, but these were both medium-sized ones.
Now, I know that Sainsbury’s say you can return any substituted items not suitable. But would they appreciate my asking the driver to wait, while I go in the wet room, to try on a pair of pants – find they are too small, then put them back in the pack, sellotape it up, and hand them back to the driver for returning? I think not!
Then there was the lamentable, regrettable, disappointing, ill-advised, and stupid replacement for the delicious Potato cakes, Pikelets! Humph!
JS Pikelets, the only similarity being that they both have six items in the packet! I’d have thought the clue, ‘Potato’ might have prevented such an idiotic, inane, imbecilic, exasperating substitution, but no! (I think J Sainsbury and Morrisons are competing to get the annual, SSOTY (Stupidest-Substitution-of-the Year award). From my experience, it is a draw at the moment. They could have subbed with Irish Potato Farls, surely?
Thank heavens I ticked the ‘No Substitution’ option for the toothpaste, else I may have had a jar of pickled walnuts delivered, as well!
The Milk Roll loaf had one days life on it! Oh, and plain digestive biscuits came covered in chocolate. But I’m not complaining about that, there is a chance or even likelihood, that I ordered the wrong one, so fair do’s on that score.
Not that these idiotish, inane, illogical, crass, unreasoned, banal, piss-taking substitutions bother me too much, of course! Knackwrangles!
I set about sorting the food etc. and trying to find some room, I’d rather overdone it again. Not on the fresh stuff, mind. I’ve been caught out with short dates and bonkers substitutes that often this year, from JS and Morrisons.
The only thing that pleased me was that they had sent the cheapo (60p) Chilli-Con-Carne, (Morrisons had substituted their (59p) one, with £2.58 substitutes!)
So, now I have a good stock of CCC in the kitchen, not the cupboard, that is already full. Hehehe!
Also, the can of Fray Bento’s meatballs in Chilli sauce, that can now be added to a tin that Hubbard’s (Sainsbury own label) Chilli Con Carne, making an easy peasy meal one day soon?
I’ll not starve for a bit, anyway. I may have a heart attack or another stroke, but still, it’s summat to look forward to – the Chilli, not the snuffing it! Glad I cleared that up!
I got the waste bags sorted onto the box on the trolley to go to the waste chute.
Then sorted the unwanted good from J Sainsbury’s crap substitutes and my possible (I think it was!) error on the chocolate biscuits I shouldn’t eat. Ahem! To take them down to Jenny’s, with some treats for Nora and Frank of the alcoholic variety. Hehe!
Of I poddled down in the lift to deliver the unwanted crap substitutes from J Sainsbury’s to Jenny’s. Who can use them as part of her charity, or whatever? They always get used to help others, with Jenny in control. Bless her!
I made a call before leaving, to Jen, to moan, lament, and bicker about the substitutions again. Hehe! And let her know I was on my way. Down and delivered them, back up and put the stuff in the waste chute on my floor.
I had a look on the Wilko site, as Jenny suggested to see if they had any PPs on sale. It was a £50 limit to get free delivery, or a minimum £10 charge. They only had a couple of men’s pants, and they were not cheap.
So I went on Amazon for a look-see what they had. I found these Tena ones, at £1 a disposable pair. I ordered some on Special Price, it said they were a new make. I just hope I’ve not ordered the wrong things again. They are at least a large size.
I then tended to prepare Josie’s meal sorted out. It was hard work doing it up today, not sure why. The cheesy potatoes were a little loose, I’d but in too much butter. But I think she likes them like that.
I delivered the meal eight minutes earlier than usual to Josie’s door, and there was no answer. Just as well, cause I’d forgot to take a photo of her Sunday feast. I nipped back in and took this shot and returned to her door and rang the bells again. I was greeted with; “You are early!” Hehehe! She laughed and inspected the fodder. It seemed to pass muster, she said she liked the fish Surami sticks, and the can of Rum and whatever went down well.
Please, I came back to the flat, did the washing up from the first nosh, and started updating the blog. Gawd this took me hours and hours! Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters had kicked off, creating error after mistake after cock-up! It was a frustrating time, and in the end, I had to give up.
I got my nosh going. I’m sure I’d ordered some battered fish on Iceland’s order, so to make room for them in the freezer, I had some, with the potato letters and peas.
I was suddenly all in again. No concentration left, and the right side of me was jumping and jerking, shoulder (SSS), and leg, which was threatening to do a Neuropathy Pete involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance. But it didn’t, just stayed with its mini-palpitations throbbing away to its heart’s content.
I’ll have to finish this in the morning.
I got the nosh prepared, not sure how I didn’t fall asleep doing it, though. I was wearied, worn-out and worryingly hebetudinous. But, hunger helped me continue. The meal was worth 6.5/10, no doubt a reduced rating, due to my being so done-in.
I tucked in, then fell asleep after eating the meal. Woke a few minutes later thinking it was time to get up, I edged my Billy Bunter body and saw the pot of yoghurt laying unbroken, where it had rolled to, on the carpet. A dilemma now; Do I struggle to get up and retrieve the lemon curd yoghourt? Is it worth the monumental effort? Am I that keen on eating it? Yes, I was… wasn’t I?
It didn’t matter, cause I fell asleep again!
When I stirred once more, minutes later, I must have been dreaming about this quandary over the tub of dessert, because I found myself reaching for the yoghourt ith the long picker-upperer, and throwing it in the waste bin. How I managed this physically was something of a miracle. Did I actually do it, or imagined doing it? Will I wake up in the morning and tread on it? On and on the Thought-Storms raged!
Looking back, I wasn’t even sure that I wasn’t dreaming all of this?
I nodded off again, waking up again, wanting a wee-wee. As I had got up and was catching my balance, the agony from the mystery growth under the foot, made me jump a bit, no a lot! Got the wee-wee taken, staggered untidily to wash my hands, back to the c1968 recliner, got down painfully on the ringed cushion, (I’d missed the centre and started Harold’s Haemorrhoids stinging). I added recent events to the notepad. (Not that I could read the scrawl easily in the morning)
Oh, dearie me, I’d left the light on! Crying was an option, but self-loathing was stronger, and I silently cursed myself, got up to turn off the light, and suffered when the new papule, or whatever it is under the foot gave me more discomfort.
I think I had another discussion with the boss, Mr G. Mostly inquiring as to why he bothered to let me be born, maltreated me. Gave me so many defeats in life. And was now giving me agony, frustrations and confidence-destroying failures? I got no answers!
Failing to get back to sleep, I realised as I lay there discussing things with the Thought-Storm, I probably deserve the luck I’m getting, fir things I have done in early life. I tried to recontact Mr G and apologised for bothering him.
04:45hrs: I stirred and reluctantly opened my eyes, closed them, and nodded off again. Uninterested in life, or stirring from the warmth of the c1968 recliner.
05:00hrs: Woke, and nodded off again. Loathing the thought of having to move, I needed an expergefactor; yet was venerated, well-pleased when it didn’t come.
05:20hrs: Woke, and was even more determined not to rise and partake in life again. A smidge of guilt as I was writing down the time on the Inchcock Today notepad, realising I’d been sleeping for at least eight, much-needed hours. More than I have slept for in twenty-eight years! Great!
05:40hrs: Back into semi-life mode. No calls for a wee-wee or the Porcelain Throne, so I nodded off again.
0645hrs: This was the end of my first sleeping-in, overlaying session, whatever you want to call it; I could feel the PMD (Pre-Micturition-Dribble) was gathering in readiness for an escape bid. So, after fumbling about in an odd sort of panicky fashion to get free of the recliner, and catching my balance, I hastened as fast as my stomached-dominated body would let me, to the wet room.
I deposited my stomached ladened, with the thin, scrawny legs and arms attached, on the raised toilet seat, and got the crossword book out… However, it was not needed. For the battle for supremacy between Trotsky Terence and Constipation Konrad, was 1-1 draw.
A very messy affair, but the input from Trotsky, amazingly ensured that the system coped with clearing the product away, and it was a big un, with just the one flush! All neat and clean!
Then, a few seconds after taking this photo, ‘thinks began to come back up into the bowl! Blungletads!
The rear end needed a lot of cleaning and freshening, mind! Which took me a while. Not that mattered this morning. Having done the templates yesterday and with my feeling so out of sorts with the timing, I’m not used to getting up as late as this, and the body-clock got genuinely confused.
It was already gone 07:00hrs, and all I’d done was the Porcelain Throne session! I felt out-of-sorts with it all!The body must have told me I needed the extra kip, (which I did, I worked it out and think I was up for twenty-five hours yesterday, most of it struggling to get the templates done). So, Sweet Morpheus supplied it for me.
As I was getting the things ready for the Health Checks, BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) started to give me harassment. And she has stayed all day, vindictively stabbing away at me! Spurgledamnations! But, now I think about it, it was most likely due to the long hours in the recliner that had caused Brenda to kick-off?
I started with the sphygmomanometer, which gave a decentish SYS of 160. Or is it? My memory fails me. I wrote down the expected BP for someone of my age, twice in fact… But can’t where I wrote it down. Brunglebogs!
The temperature came out good again as well, at 36.4°c.
I got the kettle on, and the medications prepped, and I had a look, out of the new, thick-framed, light & view-blocking kitchen window, and it felt odd?
This was because it was so light. (I’m quick yer know, Haha!) A bit of mist and drizzle, wet roads and roofs. I remembered the smoke from last nights photos and had another look at the news to see if I could find out what had caused the fire. Nope!
I got a few more waste bags made up and put them in the box ready for taking to the rubbish chute later on.
I got the computer on and started to update the Friday blog.
It was so late a start, I was worried that my legion of fans and readers would be concerned and missing their IT (Inchcock Today). I hope both of them will be patient with me. Hehehe!
It was extremely late by the time I’d got it finished. Tsk! Sent it off to WordPress. Emailed the links, Pinterested some snaps, and did the Facebooking catching up. I went to check on the comments, there was the usual mass of them from my fans, and I answered both of them.
Went to make a brew, and found I had not put the passata away after opening it and adding some to he Chill-Con-Carne las night! I had to dish it. Humph!
Not that it bothered me in the slightest.
I opened the ‘Your Area’ email magazine, to search for the latest Coronavirus figures available. Nottingham appeared to be slacking off at last, with only 653 new cases in the last seven-days, which sounds odd I know. But it was so much higher a fortnight ago. The Government’s England graphs were somewhat mixed in results.
I made an Iceland order up for next week. Got a slot for Tuesday 1st December, 08:00 > 10:00hrs.
Beginning to feel all airy-fairy in mind, stopped all activities to concentrate on getting the meal prepared, without making any mistakes, Whoopsiedangleplops ar Accifauxpas.
I couldn’t believe, after the longest sleep I’ve had, (last night), for years, that I felt so drained and tired already?
I made up a nosh, without burning or dropping anything (Smug-Mode-Adopted).
Ate most of it, Taste: 6/10. I stayed awake long enough to eat the yoghourt, too!
Got the TV on, and fell asleep within minutes.
And stayed like this, in the land of nod, for five-hours! I’ve gone from can’t get any sleep to, can’t stay awake within 24 hours?
01:25hrs: As I stirred into imitation life, I spotted the untaken evening medications pot. I wondered why I’ve suddenly started to miss taking them so often, lately?
My mind was working away, alright. No thought-storming, just a gentle, unfathomable dribble of inanities, and confusion of half-worked out worries and problems – that dissipated as quickly as they arrived? Being replaced in perpetuity, with the need for a wee-wee.
I encouraged the even greater-sized, fat-covered stomach to join the rest of the body in getting out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, rachitic, tatterdemalion, heavy yet tottery, rickety recliner. Some gnawing pains and a eurgh or two, a couple of boing-boings as the body-mass settled, and I was up catching my balance – but not well enough!
My balance did not equilibrise, and I tumbled back down into the recliner with a sickening thud! I hope that the neighbours didn’t hear it!
Which promptly set off BPB (Back-Pain Brenda), PKCCP (Proximal Knee-Cap-Cartilage-Pain), and Little Inchies fungal lesion bleeding. Not to mention that I clouted my right elbow on the arm of the chair! I had to get back up to check the injuries over and clean up the fungal lesion.
Usually, I’d do this in the wet room, but had a tube of the Daktacort on the ottoman with the Health Check stuff. So I got on with most awkward and painful needs first—cleaning and stopping Little Inchies fungal lesion bleeding, and applying the cortisone ointment.
Which, of course, was of no bother to a brave, heroic, healthy, young man like me. (Snortle!) Argh!
I used the also handily placed Phorpain gel, on the knees, and where I could reach around the folds of gross flab around the midriff, to BPB’s dwellings. A reasonably well-sized bruise was developing on the elbow.
Well, I’ve been awake for how long now? Ages! And I am still within four feet of the rickety-recliner, and still desperate for a wee-wee! Positively, not one of the best starts to a day I’ve not.
I considered having a few more words via prayer, with the Boss. But, being as my last week’s ecclesiastical discussion didn’t help any, I went for a wee-wee instead! A need for the Porcelain Throne arrived at the same time.
This session was the easiest, and least painful one I’ve had in months! Messy? Oh, yes! Due to Trotsky Terence winning the fight with Constipation Konrad, hands-down this morning! But, hey, the lack of pain and concrete torpedo removing, this was nae problem for me. I’m using up the bleach, and the once large kitchen towel stocks at a pace, mind. Hahaha! I’ve plenty of toilet paper rolls in yet, though.
I took two photographs of the morning view when I made a brew of Glengettie tea.
The moon seemed a little fuller this morning. I tried a wide shot, and it came out half-fairish with the lights.
Then I got the Health Checks done. The new thermometer colour had gone back to green, as a result, was down to an acceptable figure, I assume, 37°c.
Then the sphygmomanometerisationing. It didn’t work the first time, but okay on the next one. The SYS was still a tad high, the same as yesterday, I think.
I made a start on updating the Thursday blog and stuck with it. Dedicated, persistent, tenacious and indefatigability, like never before! But it still took me hours to get it done. Thanks to Nicodus’s Neurotransmitter relentlessly going off and coming back on-line with the brain. I admit to feeling a little smidgeon of pride when I eventually got it finished and posted-off to WordPress.
I even remembered to take the late morning medications! Swank-Mode-Grade 2 adopted!
Sent the email link off. Then did some Facebooking catching up.
I had a pot noodle for brekkers, but the photograph I took of it has done a bunk from the SD card – again! I did some comment replying on WordPress and had a look at the gallery of new stuff. Some cracking photos on there today!
I took another window view picture, zoomed in this time, on the Sherwood Health Centre area.
Then I tended to the ablutions next.
A right mixed bag of incidents, good and bad today.
The dropsies we variable and Nicodemus kept making and losing contact with the neurotransmitters. Fair enough, that’s to be expected. Most items were dropped, some several times, like the toothbrush, razors, soap and shower gel bottle.
The tiniest of cuts shaving on the lip had to be ‘after-shaved’ to stop it bleeding. Ooh! However. Showering, not a single dizzy hit me!
I couldn’t see it, but I got a reasonable picture of it all the same. That I assume to be from the plopping back down on the haemorrhoids and hitting the elbow on the recliner arm earlier?
I dropped the towel and grabbed the shower chair to lean on to lower my rotund but horrendously wobbly-fleshed body down to retrieve it… I may have got another bruise as I hit my shoulder on the metal seat support. Ah, well!
The feet and pins looked really good and almost normal. Finished drying off, got the deodorants on, and did the medicating. I was surprised at how little piles had bled, considering the strength of the wallop I gave them going back down in the seat. Mixed results then?
I did some updating of this blog.
Then took a snap of the weather outside through the balcony windows glass. Frosty on the ground, a few droplets of rain, not much wind, and the cold sun trying to come out.
This decided me, I am going out later. Only on the bus to town, and calling in the Poundland shop, to try and get some cheap disinfectant, toothpaste, pork pie, and if they have any, cheap canned garden peas. Then I can not bother to use Morrisons again!
I turned the computer turned off, dug around to find the bus pass, keys, etc. Then, I went through the ‘Bag-of-nerves’ routine of double-checking things before leaving and set off.
Lift down to the ground floor. The upgraders were busy working on the lift and main lobby areas.
I was careful going through not to hit or fall over anything. And got the trolley through to the front doors, and exited safely out into the cold sunshine.
I hobbled along and called in Winwood Court to ask Deana if she could help with next weeks Carrington Pharmacy prescription collecting. No one in the holding cells, so I exited and went out to the bus stop on Chestnut Walk.
A few folks out there. Caught the L9 to town. This was the worst-ever bus ride to town. I’d forgotten all about the problem I had last time I went on a bus, it was that long ago, and immediately wished I’d not gone out. The battle of having to hold onto the trolley as I sat there was hard work at every hill and corner the bus took.
The driver, as he dropped of the few passengers he had, told me not to get off here, and he moved up to get close to the kerb for me to alight. That was nice of him, and I got off unhurt! Hehe!
I walked wearily down Queen Street, and Dizzy Dennis and BPB both kicked off. I decided then, I’d get to the Slab Square and walk to the Poundland Shop, try to get the fodder, and go straight back to the bus stop. I wasn’t feeling too good.
The shop did not have any of the things I wanted, apart from the milk pots and disinfectant. But of course, as is my want & bad habit, I went into a ‘buy-it-anyway’ mode. I ended up amassing Whirls, the milk pots, Dettol disinfectant, toothpaste (Yes eve more, but they were £1, Morrisons are £1.50), Toffeefees, Oxo cubes, and chip-shop gravy granules in the basket.
I must have looked worse than how I felt, cause a young lady at the self-serve tills, took one look at me and said she’d put them through for me, asking if I was alright, as I looked very ashen. Another lady inquired if I’d like her to call for an ambulance? The assistant lady put my things through for me, showing concern for my health still. I gave a can of the Gin & tonic from the trolley thanking her.
A bit unnerving that was! Fair does, I was feeling a tad rough, but I must have looked at death’s door. Still, if that’s what it takes to get some attention from females. Hahaha!
I got outside, rearranged the trolley and bag for easier handling, and made my way through Slab Square to the bus stop.
The git of a Pavement Cyclist came from behind me, I felt a draught, he came that close to me! Straight over South Parade without stopping, into the square. He was delivering food to somebody. I hope they enjoy it.
Naturally, this did not bother me at all. Oy. Oy, Oy!
As I got to the top of Queen Street, as the bus was just coming in, a couple of ladies waiting, inquired if I was poorly! This was getting worrying now! Hehe!
Another horrendously painful trip home, worse now I had the extra weight in the trolley to keep a hold of.
Getting off of the bus at the flats, was dodgy, it was a good distance from the bus to the pavement to cover. The waiting inmates at the stop, each offered an odd stare to me, but said nothing? I checked my flies, they were secure!
I hobbled to the wardens holding cell to ask about help for the prescriptions, but no one in again. Can’t be helped, I’ve almost a week to try and sort it yet. If the memory doesn’t let me down, Har-Har!
I got back to the apartment and battled to get the trolley through the door, and new fatigue came over me. I was done in!
I unloaded the purchases, Dizzy Dennis and Conrad Confusion took control. I proceeded to get the Chilli-Coon-Carne with baked beans, and gravy added, burning the saucepan in the process. I scraped the saucepan and left it in soak.
The meal was devoured with delight, even though I think I fell asleep eating it at one point? Conrad Confusion was taking a firmer grip on me.
Perhaps it was because I felt so weary, but the meal was only given a 7/10 (on notepad). I cant, read the rest of the scribble, so don’t know why.
Cleaned up the saucepan and pots, I must have, they were all washed and dried when I woke up later on.
I took the evening medications early and was soon in the land of nod.
Waking up still a tad confused just before midnight. Not in a confident frame of mind, and Conrad Confusion present again. And the Thought-Storms active. Flibblegonkackles!
23:15hrs: I woke in a desperate need of the Porcelain Throne. (Nothing unusual in that, although the early hour was a bind!) I was weary through lack of sleep, with drooping eyelids, and struggling to engage my thoughts. Hello, I’m sneezing away now!
Not that the lack of sleep bothers someone like me. A heroical, strong, young, fit, healthy, virile, confident, handsome, stouthearted, very-much loved and admired, intrepidly courageous, health enthusiast, fitness fanatic, well-educated, keen outdoor adventuring enthusiast… Well, I may have just over-hyperbolised things there, a smidge)
As the grey-cells regained a weak form of logicality; I dragged my bouncy-bellied body from the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, tatterdemalion, heavy yet tottery, rickety recliner. And I rose up on my painful overgrown toenailed feet. I caught my balance, as per the After-Stroke Teams instructions. But had to skip the last bit, as the need for the Throne was growing more urgent by the second.
This session gave me a pleasant surprise! I got down on the plastic lid, and straight away the evacuation flowed. It was a long one, but that didn’t matter – It was totally pain-free! No bleeding either! Messy, though, very! Then having to clean me and the WC furniture, which took me ages, took the edge off of the, well, almost pleasure of super-easy pooing! Not that I was excited, for every Throne visit lately is totally different, which the Gastrointestinal Doctor Gupta had told me may happen for a few months. I just hadn’t expected the differentiations to be so acute on each visit. After the passing, BPB was soon starting to ache much worse?
I sorted out the Health Checks. Heck of a shock when the sphygmomanometer gave out the SYS reading of 171. Blimusigational! Yesterdays was only 148? I wonder why this happened? Ah, well, must press on, so I got the new thermometer out.
A reasonable reading of 68.8°c. Well, at least that was fair enough.
I went to get the medications out – and shame and disgust at myself again! I’d not taken last nights doses, yet again!
So, I took them then. Now I must remember to take the morning ones in a few hours.
It’s all very most confusing life is, when you’re nearing the end of it, and the old previously so reliable memory becomes unpredictable and a hit-and-miss affair. Hogglebogwash!
I went to make a brew of Glengettie tea, and I got side-tracked. (Hard to believe, me getting divagated, but, there you are... Hehe!) I took off the grey zip-up jumper I had on and set to washing it. Why I did this is still unknown to me, it was at the time I did it!
When the handwashing was finally, done- wrung and hung above the sink, to drip away drying, I had to clean up the mess I’d made doing the hand laundering. The floor had to be dried of sudsy water, the dropped and knocked-over items retrieved from where they had landed, and or rolled to, and the sink and counters washed.
I got back to making a brew of tea again, got the kettle reboiling, and noticed the small but beautiful quarter-moon was out in the now morning sky. I got the Nikon camera and took this photograph in Night Landscape mode.
Got the computer booted up, and uploaded this morning’s pictures. (Still doing some sneezing here). Then started to update the Sunday diary.
But this did not last for long. BPB started to get crescively more painful. So I hobbled to the wet room, and applied as best I might, a dollop of Phorpain gel to the affected areas, and rubbed it in as well as I could. It made no difference, though. Klunglefrazzles!
I’m sorry I bothered now, cause coming out of the wet-room, I hit my right shoulder on the edge of the doorframe, and now SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) has joined DD and BPB harassing me! Criggleblogglesworthisms! How much more of this can one man take!
Of course, I’m not really bothered, whatsoever.
I got the blog updating finished. Posted it off. Pinterested a few snaps. Went on Facebooking, then sent the link off via Email. I went on CorelDraw again, to try and get some page top graphics done for the TFZer pictures.
After about two or three days, I’d got two graphics done… Well, it felt that long to me! Nicodemus has joined at ailment army now. However, a Silver-Lining search result: Duodenmal Donald departed the battlefield, for some R & R? Hahaha! The main offender now is Anne Gyna.
Then, I had to visit the Porcelain Throne for the second time. Messy in the extreme, a tad more painful, but over so quickly, and no bleeding. Far less volume this time I thought, not that I weighed it or anything. Cackle! Titter! Hehe! Cleared the evacuated product with one flush, as well! Yeehaa!
I decided to see what slots J Sainsbury had available. I wasn’t too keen on using them after the last cock-up with substitutes and damaged goods, but I dare not use Morrisons to get my Chilli-Con-Carne, after they substituted 2 cans of their cheap (69p) CCC, with their best ones, at £2.58! And the utterly crap MCains peppered chips as a substitute for the Morrisons Sweet Potato battered fritters. Apart from there were no sweet potatoes or batter, the sub was okay. Swine!
Swine again now! So, I made up an order with Sainsbury’s, for Sunday 29th November, twixt 0800>09:00hrs. I made a point of working out how to opt for ‘no substitutes’, but I got it wrong, and could not reaccess the list! As it happened, I’d missed off the BBQ super-noodles from the order, so I went in to edit it again, add the pots to it. And got the no substitutions and added the CCC, and bread to that list.
I also found that I have a refund coupon, well, two of them, so clicked on the activate buttons. Then found an option that if I spent £60, I could get £9 off of the order? So I clicked that, but I had to, unfortunately having to increase the ordered items to reach the total. As I updated, I got a long-winded message telling that because I had chosen so many items with the No-Substitute on them, if the total is not reached, I’d forfeit the £9 off-offer. See their substitution rulings! Cobblers!
I knew that Hristina was calling later today, so got the ablutions sorted out next.
And what a feast of flipping, fiascos, faux pas, foul-ups, fluffs, follies, fatuous-farcicalisations this session was!
I got in the wet-room and moving the shower chair, I let it slip from my grasp. Or rather Nicodemus did. (You can see the bruise in the photos later!
The gums bled when I was doing the teeth!
A few nicks when shaving (5).
A stubbed toe when moving the sock glide out of the way to prepare the shower.
I bent down to pick up the dropped shower gel bottle and hit my head on the grab bar!
This started BPB off again!
As I was drying off, I put on the new glasses, and the lens fell out of the frame! Grrr!
Moving the chair back under the shower, I gave myself another toe-stubbing (At least this one was not too bad).
The medicationing started poor little Inchies fungal lesion bleeding!
Finally, on leaving the room, I was intent on not hitting the door frame again this time, and I didn’t. But as I turned to collect the forgotten to take with me wristlet alarm, I knocked most of the stuff off of floor cabinet when I had a balance loss moment!
Not one of my bestest ablution sessions! I was so irate with myself.
With all the clearing up, extra medicalisationing, I think that this session took me about an hour and a half! I don’t think I’m one of the luckiest tenant’s in here, am I?
But then again, I already knew that.
At least apart from the bruised foot, bloodied lesion, shaving cuts, bashed head, stubbed toes, and Back-Pain-Benda back to her painful best, I feel I have nothing to complain about really. Much!
At least I had a visit for Hristina, my precious Vampire Nurse to come. (An inner smile glowed!)
After I’d calmed down, and was sorting out some waste bags, the front door chimes chimed out. It was Josie returning the dinner things. She mentioned how she’s enjoyed it so much. Which was good, and semi-cheered me up a soupçon.
I got back on the computer, and fear that I’d left something undone, not done, in the wet-room, forced me to get back there and have a check, that all was okay. I’d left the clothes I’d used in the ablutions and medical tendings, and washed on the support bracket.
The intercom flashed. It was Hristina, my beloved Vampire phlebotomy nurse who’d arrived. She rang the intercom at 11:45hrs.
By EQ recognised that she looked full of angst and tensed up, bless her. And no wonder, as she said while whipping out my blood: Only one lift working in the block, hard to find a parking space, extra clients added to her list, stressed the Angel.
Although she gave no obvious signs and tried to speak in her usual comforting way, the speed of her words revealed the pressure she was under. I don’t think she was with me for more than five minutes. Beautiful, enjoyable minutes, though. ♥
After she had gone, and I lowered my sprits and sulked a little, and did some updating on this diary.
I turned of the computer, feeling a tad down and weary now. I got the waste bags, a lot of them had built up. This is because we have to use tiny bags now since the upgrade, so as not to block the chute, as has often been the case in the past, and cost a fortune to sort out.
I got them on the box and not the three-wheeled walker, and with some difficulty, got the trolley out through the door. (For the first time in a few days, I twisted my back getting the guide over the raised doorstop, and BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) gave me an electric-like shock, and hurt on of a level 7/10 pain-wise, and has stayed with me all night and into the morning!)
Struggling even more to open the door to the lift lobby (BPB), as I got halfway through the door, there were working signs and equipment all over the place, and at the end of the lobby, three workers, who turned to look at me – offered me a look of contempt, a sneer, and a scowl. No way though – I’m sure I hadn’t been informed of these workings? But who knows, with my memory!
So, I was going nowhere. I made my way with difficulty back into the flat’s lobby and returned to flat. Storing the trolley back in its corner in the hallway, obviously with the full of waste bags box still on top of it. And BPB really giving me some stick now!
I took the evening medications, with an extra Codeine 60g, and as best I could, offered Back-Pain-Brenda some PHorgpain Gel where I could reach to. Hoping, foolishly perhaps, that it might calm her down a bit. I was now in a right picklement, BPB and Anne Gyna bother having sadistic fun with me. Argh!
I got the meal prepped. A different type tonight, the Beef Curry, had a ring-pull opener on it, so I tried it. Got some potato letters in the oven cooking. Then considered the seasoning, that might be required for the curry. First I got it in the saucepan and tried a spoonful as it slowly heated up. I could not detect any curry. I decided on some balsamic vinegar and made-up some gravy with vegetable stock and added it to the mix. Put some Soy sauce into the mix. Fingers crossed. Not that I was too bothered, with BPB and AG for both still nagging away at me.
Nosh was served up, and I wanted to show how I felt and decided I’d put my views in potato-letters on top of the fodder. Just my luck, all those letters I cooked, and no letter T! Hahaha! Not to be beaten, I nibbled an H and used that to give my message to the world via the internet and this photo. Daft, I know, but I was in so much pain and fed-up with it.
I got the saucepan and tray washed, and took the meal though to the recliner, and eventually got my poor old back settled in a position that was not too uncomfortable. Of course, by then the food was not very hot! Globdanglesods!
I wasn’t going to go through the agony of getting up to reheat it, so I tucked into the bowl of beef curry. Notwithstanding, nevertheless, and however, the taste was not too bad at all. Had the meal been warmer, it may have got a better Flavour Rating than the 6.5/10 I gave it. The other can of beef curry in the cupboard will be used later, and not rust away or be given away.
It took a long time eating though. The moment I moved to get up and do the washing of the plate bowl and cutlery, BPB started again. Oy, Oy, Oy! Did I feel it, too!
Eventually, I got washed, stripped down, and back in the c1968 recliner again. Gawd know how long it took me to find a position that BPB would tolerate a little better – I expected the worst… needing a wee-wee, sneezing, or wanting the Porcelain Throne and having to move again. But nae bother!
Not that man like me was concerned over a little pain and agony, of course. Ahem! The prayer and confession I offered up, brought no reply or relief.
Surprisingly, I nodded off quickly. Waking up just before midnight, still in pain. I removed the remote control, empty packet of Frazzles, and crumbs from my folds in my belly fat…
23:30hrs: BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) was with me from the instant I stirred from my slumber. She was in a fiery-mood before I attempted to move, and got more severe when I tried to free my grossly overweighted, mega-flobby-stomached body onto my feet.
As the need for the Porcelain Throne became obvious, I dare not rush, because the balance was taking its time in settling things this morning. I had to take the risk of delaying things until I was steady on pins, and was semi-symphonious in mind and body, to ensure I’d get to the wet-room without and tumbles or Accifauxpas. The risk of some escapages was high. I arrived in the room, in what seemed a long, long time, and I was in time too, to evade any plop-outs! No leaks en route! Phew!
I whipped down the jammy-bottoms and PPs, had barely settled on the plastic seat, and the motion started of its own accord. It was more painful than yesterdays efforts, but Troksy Terence beat Constipation Konrad, 3-1! A much easier evacuation, quicker, and only a smidgeon of bleeding from Harold’s Haemorrhoids! Not as messy either. Smug-Mode-Adopted!
I cleaned up and went to get the medicationalisationing done. Felt a twit again, when I found last nights tablets in the pot, untaken, obviously. So, this is the third morning I’ve found this had happened! So I took the tablets, applied the Phorpain gel, guzzled some of the pathetically weak Peptac medicine, and put in the Saccades Sandra drops in the eyes. Bit of a job innit, gerrin’ up. Hehehe! I took an extra Codeine 60mg, as BPB was still nagging away at me, and I had Anne Gyna beginning to stab all around the chest as well now. Also, I made sure I took the Dioctyl® capsule, that is important not to miss, as it is just beginning to win the fight against Conrad Constipation, and I do not want to end up on the Throne for hours at a time again!
The blood pressure was down a decent amount, to 152/72. Which was unexpected and welcome. We’ll see wots wot, next time! I mustn’t get too excited. Simper!
The temperature was up a bit, too 36.8° c, the highest it’s been for months. I think this is a good sign, too?
I got the computer on, and back to the wet-room for Porcelain Throne session No.2!
No rushing to get there this time. A repeat style of evacuation as the one earlier, but with a bit less pain involved, Super!
I got on with updating the Friday blog. Not a lot left to do on it, uploading the photos took a while, but it was soon all done, a lot more time checking and double-checking, and got posted off.
I emailed the link. Went on the WordPress reader, some fantastic stuff of there today. Then Pinterested a few pictures. Answered some comments, and caught up on Facebooking.
Made the first mug of Glengettie of the day, and took a picture from the unwanted, light & view-blocking kitchen window. It wasn’t top quality, but it showed the lights along Winchester Street at the back and Ramsdale Crescent, closest.
I made the brew, and brought it to the computer and booted it up. I made a start on this blog for a few hours and stopped around 06:30hrs, as the ablutions would soon be needed to be done before the Iceland delivery arrived, that would be anywhere twixt 08:00 > 10:00hrs.
Well, Back to the Porcelain Throne again, for the third time! Pilestosufferagaintime! So, I opted to get the Ablutionalisaitoning done at the same time. I’m assuming that I made a mistake (No, it does sometimes happen, Chortle!), altered timing of the medications.
Which was due to my stupidity, puerility, cretinism, and asininity in missing the evening medication-taking for the last three nights. But it didn’t bother me at all. Egads!
This third Throne affair was not as good as the earlier two were. Humbugski! Only because Harold’s Haemorrhoids poured out the blood so freely. Took me ages to stop the flow, medicate things and clean up. Then I had to get a scuttle on with the ablutioning.
But it went okay. Had it not been for the teeth bleeding, a few little nicks shaving, at least a dozen dropsies, my clearing the cabinet of all the items, giving myself a knock on the head while trying to get down using the picker-upperer to retrieve the ointments, tablets, sprays and olive oil from where they had to fall, behind the cistern. Why in hell, couldn’t they have fallen on the free open space on the floor? Skullclogglebonks!
Ah, well, at least the pins and toes, although mega-pale, were looking, and feeling okay and alright this flipping Friday morning.
When I came out, the lighting and colours outside looked unreal, as if the Lord had just repainted them.
So, once I’d dressed. I got my Nokia camera and took these three pictures. (Ah! I meant the Nikon camera, sorry). Mr Billumski, the Ohio State RCM (Red Car Monitoring) President, will be interested in the great number on sight in the road and car parks today? Or not!
The photo I took straight ahead from the balcony window (That’s the one with the habit of the metal-spring-clip that needs pushing and pulling at the same time to open or close and have mangled many a finger, mine and even the NCH fitters, sent to mend them!) I’m waffling again, forgive me. The colouring kept changing, and the weak sunshine was covered by the clouds, but I managed to catch it this time. Bootiful!
I got the ‘YourArea’ magazine opened, and found some Coronavirus figures on it. At first glance, it appeared a little scary, but on closer inspection, the 878 figure was for the last seven days. Which us about 40% down on the rolling total.
But the crime figures I found for Sherwood, didn’t look too good! I copied this article for a bit of interest. Incidentally, between the two other people I’ve actually spoken to this week, and myself; None of us has seen a uniformed policeman in Sherwood for months now! Not good! I love the comment from the Neighbourhood Police Inspector!
Did some work, updating my personal dictionary, and the Iceland delivery man, he rangeth the intercom. I pressed the release button, and two Nottingham City Homes men were leaving as he entered.
I feel it only fair, to inform the gentlemen, that for a few second, we can hear what they are saying when someone calls us. I’ll say no more!
The gentleman dropped the bags inside the door for me and was looking a tad stressed. I assumed this was with his being running behind on his deliveries a little. So, I slipped him a can of plonk and thanked him profusely. Which cheered him a little and brought a half-smile to his face, which in turn, cheered me up!
I moved the carrier bags into the kitchen. I seem to have bought more than usual? Then set about storing the purchases away. I soon realised that I’d bought some Christmas treats on this order, that was why there seemed a lot.
The cleaners I put in the main junk room. I’d only bought one bag of frozen, potatoes shapes, and had worked out I could just about get it in the fridge. But it was a 50% Extra Free bag. So had a job on making room to get it to go in the drawer. Hahaha!
I got the hands wet with the ice, and (without thinking, as usual) l rang the hot water tap to wash and dry the hand. But I got sidetracked when I dropped a packet of biscuits. So I fetched the picker-upperer to retrieve them with, as I say, unthinkingly leaving the hot water tao running, I returned and dipped my hand in the bowl… Aghh! I ran cold water on it for ages, then rubbed some Savlon in the skin. What an Eizel!
When I got around to putting the things in the fridge, another struggle, moving things around to get the new fodder to go in, Tsk! I split the red grapes in half and put them in a carrier in the original box to take down to Jenny. I added one of her Christmas treats and a bag of wholemeal cobs. Well, they were such a good offer price, but I had to buy two packs to get the offer. And thought of Jenny, Doris and the charity she supports so much. Waste not, want not!
I then got the three-wheeler guide and put them in it, to take down to Jen’s apartment. I got down, rang her bell, and came back up in the elevator.
As I turned, BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) was giving me more discomfort, I can’t understand what set her off this morning? I had the struggle to get the trolley back in the door again. Something else that confuses me, I’ve never had bother like this getting in the door before, until this week? Most peculiar?
As I was getting ready to take some more photographs, it suddenly went so dark.
And yet, by the time I grabbed the camera, the sun was out, but obviously only through a small hole in the clouds.
I took a well-zoomed-in shot of the kiddies play area in Woodthorpe Grange Park. A few folks out there enjoying themselves, and was so pleased to see them all being good and observing the social-distancing rules, bless ’em.
I was getting a little weary now, and wondered on what to have for my nosh. I opted for smoked streaky bacon (from Germany this time from Iceland, last week it was from Poland, but it looked a bit fatty!) I only have two tins of tomatoes left, neither of them with a ring-pull opener.
I tried the new battery-operated one, but no luck with getting it to do anything yet. I read the instruction once more. I was about to make a change in plans, no way do I want to use the old finger-cutting one again; And, I tried the old-new one, Gotten-Himmel, it worked – but not all the way around the lid! I got the oven glove and carefully as I could, opened it far enough to pour the chopped tomatoes into the saucepan! Smug-Mode Grade2 Adopted.
I put the bacon on a tray and into the oven with it. Then investigated which seasoning to use. I got carried away I think, I added some Hickory, Soy Sauce, Squid vinegar and mild chilli powder. GAve it a good stirring, while thinking what a twit I was using these additions. Yet, after stirring for ages, I tried a spoonful, and I liked it! I’ll wait to see what it tastes like with the bacon in, before getting carried away. Hahaha!
It was grand! The wholemeal cobs were flavourful. Taste-Rating 8/10. It was devoured with delight!
All-in-all, a mixed day ailment-wise. I’ve had worse, much worse.
Obersturmbannführeress Deana popped in for a quick How yer doing?
Then, I had a wash, took the medications (Aha, I remembered!), and got down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, tatterdemalion, heavy yet tottery, rickety recliner, in search of Sweet Morpheus – and it didn’t take long to find!