Irritating Inchie, Saturday 16th January 2021 – Diary

TFZers Planning their Shopping Expedition after lockdown?

Inchcock’s Tips & Advice on gerrin’ o’der, fer Whippersnappers

Saturday 16th January 2021

Finnish: Lauantaina 16 Tammikuuta 2021

01:35hrs: I slowly stirred back into life, of sorts. A sudden, almost panic began, from somewhere I thought that something was wrong in the kitchen! No smells, I don’t think. I struggled out of the c1968 recliner, and I limped to the kitchenette but found nothing untoward, and I had a good look around, windows shut, taps not running… was it a dream?

I was not properly balanced, so I took my time and returned to the main junk room. Thought were coming pretty fast into the brain, but leaving at the same rate of knots.

I got my Myanmar, (Burmese) made zip-up jacket on. Changed into the reading glasses, had a weak wee-wee, washed my hands, and started the Health Checks. The Chinese made Harpin Xian Di contactless thermometer reading was fine, at 36.6°c.

♫ I really can’t stay, Baby it’s cold outside, I gotta go away, Baby it’s cold outside, This evening has been, Been hoping that you’d dropped in, So very nice, I’ll hold your hands they’re just like ice ♫… Sorry about that, I got carried away!

Pleasingly, the Chinese manufactured Boot’s Sphygmomanometer SYS was not too high compared to earlier readings, at 156. And, the pulse was steady at 85.

I nipped back into the kitchen to get a made-up bottle of spring water and lime cordial.

I opened the window, Gawd it was cold out there… (♫ I really can’t stay, Baby it’s cold outside, I gotta go away, Baby it’s cold outside, This evening has been, Been hoping that you’d dropped in, So very nice, I’ll hold your hands they’re just like ice ♫…) Sorry about that, I got carried away!☺

I snapped this photograph of Chestnut Way’s car park in front of the building, below. Back to the computer, taking another weak-wee-wee en route, and back on the computer.

I determinedly pressed on with the updating of the Friday Diary. Got it finished, although it took me longer than usual with interruptions to Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, on and off repeatedly for periods of a few seconds, up to a full minute. But I resisted going into a Smug-Mode, after yesterday’s experiences.

All done at long last Hurrah!), then I posted it off to WordPress, emailed the link. Had a weak wee-wee, washed, returned and Pinterested some bits, and went on the Facebooking updating on the TFZ site, then the Woodthorpe Heights. Spent a good while on there, and went on the WordPress-Reader section. Had a weak-wee-wee. Washed my hands and went on the WP commenting.

Belatedly, I made a start on this post. Stopped to make a brew, have a weak-wee-wee, wash my hands, and took the morning medications (It was grand to be able to take an extra pain-killer, thanks to the unknown, kind donor, who posted some through my door yesterday, thanks again!)

I got an inspiration to write the Advice funny at the top of this page, well, second graphic down. I made it up and did it with a graphic. It’s nowhere near my best work, but for some reason, I found it so zanily humorous, so kept it in. I hope people like it and get a laugh. If anyone does, I’ll offer it to the Tate Gallery for a modest fee. Hahaha!

I lost a lot of time already with my getting sidetracked, but did it again, and went on a hunt for Alt codes to use. I found a few and put them on the Notepad for later.

Hello, some more comments have come in, I’ll have a decker. Just the two, replied to them and went to make another mug of tea, and had another weak-wee-wee! I reckon I’ve missed a Furesomide in the medicational muddle?

I then went on CorelDraw to get some template graphics done, I’m well behind with them. Crockledimdogs! Another visit to the wet room, Blimus!

Back to CorelDrawing, and within a minute into working, and the door chimes rang out.

It was the postman, bringing the Amazon sold razors. A box of 200 razors in packs of five. Outstanding value, too.

Back to the CorelDrawing.

: Having done only one graphic, CorelDraw Problems, or rather, I created CorelDraw problems! Or, maybe a more accurately, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters caused me CorelDraw problems! I lost the document palette! The nerve ends died as I was trying to move the palette, and I lost it altogether. I was getting more and more frustrated, I could not remember how to move palettes with the mouse, spent hours trying this and that in the options and customisation sections, getting nowhere with it.

Sister Jane

Then the landline burst forth flashing. Sister Jane, calling. I took this photo a couple of years ago of her, in the Nottingham Slab Square.

We had a long chinwag, ashamedly I could not concentrate properly with worrying about the CorelDraw problems. I learnt what I was doing wrong, as is natural when she calls me, Big Sister, you see. (Hahaha!) I

was eating the wrong foods, going to bed too early, and other things I can’t remember, 

In the morning, I added this photo of her and Pete’s visitors in their garden. A family of Squirrels that have taken up residence nearby. They call twice every day for their treats on monkey nuts.

Back to the nightmare with the computer. I went on the web asking for help, and it took me three hours of differently formulated questions, to find a DVD that helped with the problem. Another hour of farting about getting it wrong, and suddenly I got the palette back, but it was empty!

I lost more time trying to sort this out and gave up. I was frustrated, and so wee’d off! And the weariness was coming on.

I gave up on computing, my hopes and plans destroyed! Ah, well, I turned off the computer and got some nosh sorted out. As I got the Ghilli-Con-Carne, red peppers and tomatoes in the saucepan, oh dearie me…

All of the Peripheral Neuropathy related ailments all kicked-in, well not all of them. No leg dancing, loss of balance but SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley), Shaking Shaun, and Cathy Cartilage gave me what for!

A nasty bout, this one, but thank goodness it was a short one. I was growing more tired than ever now. But I pressed on and got the meal served up. I overdid the quantity a bit, and couldn’t eat all of the rolls, but destroyed the CCC and potatoes. A taste-rating was a worthy 8/10.

Washed and got the jammie-bottoms on, and down in the £300, second-hand, decrepit, c1968, rickety recliner, and turned on the TV, I can’t remember what it was I was going to watch, but I failed to anyway – blissfully! Off into the land of Sweet Morpheus, I drifted in no time at all. Zzzz!

An hour or so later, I sprang wide-awake, as if I’d just had an electric shock! The realisation that the Prescriptions were being delivered today bounding about in my head! Sheer alarm and panic gripped my and hastened by the bulbous wobbly body from the recliner, with the intentions of getting to the front door post-haste to see if they had been put through the door for me, as it was well past the normal delivery time.

Unfortunately, as I got in the hallway, I instead hastened down on my knees to the floor, and the right leg knee, (Cartilage Cathy’s) gave way. There was no time for self-pitying, I hauled my enormous girth back up onto my feet…

And I crumpled down again! This time, I crawled into the wet room and dolloped a load of Phorpain gel all around the patella. Then used the shower chair to get my bulk back up on my feet again. All the time, worrying about the prescriptions milling about in my head.

I got to the flat’s door, there was not anything outside or inside medicine wise. Had he or she been and left? Will they be coming later? I put the facemask on, in case anyone did come, and thought I’d check the mobile and email to see if the chemist had been and had sent a message… Panicking a bit here, but still found time to fit a spot of nervousness in about the CorelDraw problem! Come one worry – Come all! Hehe!

Moments later, the intercom rang out, it was Carrington Pharmacy owner, Deepak BSc Pharm Hons, delivering my prescriptions for me. For once, thank heavens he was late, else I might have been asleep otherwise, Phew! He dropped the prescription pack in a box, on the floor for me, and I thanked him. Nice to be told I was not looking very well. Hehehe! Bless him.

Once I took them to the kitchen to sort out, I realised that Cathy Cartilage was really giving me some stick, although it was my own fault for falling on her twice! Flibbledonkackles!

Ah, well, life may not be exactly suant, and I may be in pain, CorelDraw is worrying me, but after a quick Silver-Lining Search: Things could be much worse. I got the prescriptions delivered, Cathy Cartilage is already getting less painful, I had a marvellous CCC for dinner, Duodenal Donald and Anne Gyna have both been kind to me today. Yep, things are good! Who am I kidding!

Back down in the recliner, it took a while, but sleep did return.

Inchock’s 4th Escape from the lockdown – to town! Pictorially presented!

Inchock’s 4th Escape from the lockdown – to town!

This woz rote by Inchy’s alter ego – Hehehe!

The following, pictorials and odes, were created in support of the Depressed Nottinghamian At-Risk High-Rise Flat-Dwelling Prisoners Support Group. Donations gladly accepted.

Having made his escape bid plans again. He clandestinely crept to the lifts, falling over his three-wheeked walker-Guide, waited for the regulation Winwood Heights twenty minutes for a lift, and got down in time to miss the bus.

He waited patiently, for the next bus, but this proved something of a benefit for the old git. Not many folks about, but he still managed to corner one poor chap, and hastened to bore him to death verbally! The man wisely moved away.

And Inchcock, being instantly bored himself now, went into one his Sherlock Holmesian modes. Someone had been blowing their nose in the bus shelter, and stuffing the tissue under the seating?

He caught the bus and got out his crossword puzzles, but the driver, obviously a stock-car racing fan, nearly had Inchy out if his seat a few times en route to Nottingham City centre. Trying to hold onto his three wheeler, took some effort.

The old chap went itn the Pondland shop on Lower Parliament Street, and despite his painful and feet, enjoyed his hobble around the store, coming out with many items he didn’t need or want, Tsk!

He got to the checkout, and got himself in a right pickle and state of embarrassment at the self-serve checkout! The lady monitoring the tills, was greatly unimpressed with his continual dropping of things and farting about trying to retrieve them.

But did not offer to help, although she shared some sneerings, of hate, derision, scornfulness and causticness with him. He came out redfaced and £20 lighter. And took these three shots of the Milton Street junction.

Where he went into the Bargain Shop. A terrible experience! No one talking, empty shelves etc. But, he still spent over £21, mostly on Christmas treats for his family of friend in Woodthorpe Court.

He was struggling now, the three-wheeler trolley-bag full, and three carrier bags hanging on the handles, would make progress awkward for him. At least he remembered to but sone of the dar clothing cleaner. He set off on a limp towards the Slab Square.

On his hobble along Milton Street to Upper Parliament Street, he noticed the Nottionghamian pedestrians crossing the road against the lights again, but this is a usual, regular occurrence. He adjusted thos spectacles.

Which was a mistake, as he turned onto Upper Parliament Street, the old fart of a fool unthinkingly took the spectacles off to clean them.

They got caught in the facemask!

He crossed over the road, and down King Street. Near the bus stops, a chap dressed like the Beatles used to, with plaited hair hanging below his shoulders, stopped him and asked for ‘a couple of quid for a coffee’. As he eyed up the bags!

Inchy just said, ‘No!’ and carried in hobbling down the hill, turning to keep an aye on the youth as he did, to make sure he wasn’t following. Getting to the Slab Square, Inchy gor out his camera for a snapping away session.

He saw the little crowd and paparazzi outside the Council House steps, he went back into Sherlock Holmesian mode, and took a close up[ phot of whoever was on the steps. This person came by. Inchy got a decent shot of his/her head.

Inch repositioned himelf a bit closer, and waited for the right moment to get a view of what was going on. Nice zoomed-in photo for once. Asssumed to be the Sheriffess or Mayoress of Nottingham? Again, not single Policeman in sight today.

The tatterdemalion, dour, malagrugrous, weary, tellurian, dangerous populace of Nottingham, were showing a bit of itnerest, at least. Not many of them had face-masks on, but it isn’t law yet to wear them outsdoors yet, methinks.

The lad poddled his way wit hdifficulty up Queen Street to get to his bus stop, and caught a number 40 back home, to his never-restfull, beloved, always something to worry about, four years being upgraded and not finished yet, Winwood Heights.

He was the only passenger when the bus moved off from the terminus. Pondering on should he get out the crossword or not; one look at the mass of bags on the trolley, and the book being at the bottom, he decided against it!

The first passenger to get on the bus, was Face-Maskless.

The second one, had his mask under his chin.

A lady got on, and she had no mask on!

As the chin-mask wearing man got up tp get off, he gave Inchy a cautionary scowl, that was a bit threatening. As the bus progressed along St Anns Well Road, it passed the Health Centre where Inchy has to go for his bladder-scan.

This is St. Anns Valley Centre, 2 Livingstone Road, Nottingham NG3 3GG.

Events over his last two visits there, do not proffer the least bit of encouragement or confidence in Inchy.

The record, as Inchy explains:

  • February: Went to get the feet done, and they said come back later, we’ll have to lool at your health record.
  • March: They refused to do my feet, cause the Warfarin level was too high..
  • July: They refused to tend to my feet, because I’d just had the stroke.
  • August: Refused again, cause of my having been diagnosed with diabetes.
  • September: The did cut my nails, but said they will not be able to so in future. I have to go private in future.

Poor old sod!

He arrived back at his Woodthorpe Court, along with the mysterious wonders of, the Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, Hallucinations and Kehuas. Materialisations, Poltergeist, Lemures, Wairuas, Manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan mission; ‘To annoy and scare the bejesus out of, and the pants off of the old energumenist, Inchcock’.

Thank you.

A simple bus ride to fetch my Spectacles – Not on your life, talk about things going wrong. Humph!

A simple bus ride to fetch my Spectacles

Not on your life, talk about things going wrong!

The things you will read on this so-called true-funny blog of mine,

Really are true, and challenge my sanity  and mind,

Please persist reading, and you will find,

Why I have logicality, hopelessness and despondencies entwined!

Off to Sherwood to collect my glasses,

I’ll call on Jenny and Doris, such lovely lasses,

I’ll leave them a treat, containing molasses,

Might get a chinwag with whoever passes?

 ———————————————

Caught the lift down with no problem at all,

Left the bag, hope they have a ball,

Returned to lift lobby hall,

Catching the elevator, not easy at all,

I was so frustrated and appalled,

25 minutes later, the lift responded to my call!

 ———————————————

Rushing out to Chestnut Walk, slipped and broke my shoe,

Clouted it on the walker’s wheel, surely there is some good luck due?

But what made me saddest, was the bus had departed, early too!

So, all het-up now, I legged-it, passed-wind, and feared wanting a poo!

 ———————————————

On Winchester Street, The walker ran away from me,

I chased it, and is facticity,

I wedged it against a box for electricity,

To take this phot, but not with enough adequacy,

I stopped it again but with inefficacity,

No doubt about it, this was going to be a trip of paucity!

———————————————

I got down the hill, energy’s what I did lack,

I must get the bus up the hill going back,

I called on two shops to get cleaner and a snack,

Off to the optician’s, the one drawback,

I was wearing a sort of anorak,

I was so hot, but didn’t hold back,

Got in the shop, and took the receptionist flak,

I was late, it seems was her crack!

———————————————

I had a long wait to be seen,

Not that I was all that keen,

£300 to pay, never again to be seen,

Crosswording while I waited,

The receptionist called me to be seen,

The lady dealt with me, glasses were fitted,

I got quite jolly-fully contented and witted,

Until it came time to pay, the nI was fritted!

I’d forgotten my pin number again,

I think the lady thought of me; “What a Pain!”

From crying out loud, I did refrain,

She got the money through, this seemed diaphane,

How I don’t know, so I asked her, it felt germane,

I didn’t understand her, and felt a right dumb-brain,

Thanked her, pretending to understand, I did mislain,

Still, she didn’t moan or complain!

Then out and up the hill, to catch the bus again!

———————————————

I had to doge another Pavement Cyclist, he gave me a fright, 

I was too tired to comment or get into a fight,

I’d run out of the Kryptonite! 

Would I make the walk home up the fearsome hill? I might! 

Down to the traffic light corner,

And the bus passed by, I was too late!

I checked the next ones time and date, 

40 minutes, too long to stand and wait,

So I set off, limping, with an unsteady gait!

The hill looked a fearsome sight, 

The prospect of climbing it, made me feel uptight,

Sorry that I didn’t wait for the bus, I felt contrite!

Anyone seeing me struggle up the road must have seen a sickening sight,

I was sure the gradient was gaining height?

The hobble home seemed infinite

At the top of Winchester, the parkers made things tight,

For breakfast, I should have had some Marmite,

The time went by slowly, and things went quite,

Somehow, up the last part of the hill, I did expedite, 

To see a harrowing sight,

The 40 bus arriving, some tenants did alight,

 My energy was drained completely now, flat!

Didn’t have the energy for eating my cervelat,

Must not fall asleep, I’ll have to do summat,

I got back to the apartment, Zzzz; that was that!


After this abysmal, Whoopsiedangle-ridden trip, the poor old twit, did have fleeting thoughts of a suicidal nature. but he did not act on them – He fell asleep! Haha!

Inchcock Reveals His Current Fears! – In Rhyme (Of sorts)

Believe it or not, Inchcock created this depiction of his Sock-Glide from memories of a nightmare, that the poor old fart suffered two nights ago. It’s so sad!

Inchcock Reveals His Current Fears!

Reading further may cause harm to your sanity!

Yes, he was young once… he still is, mentally!

Born, and got myself double-pneumonia,
Thrown in the canal, I nearly drowned in 1954,
I got rescued, only scared, wet and sore,
The medics said the boss is going to warn yer,
The Doctor said “You’ll never get brawnier”,
Next, I got shot, then the Duodenal Ulcer,
Top of the charts was ♫24hrs from Tulsa♫,
Then the hernia, and bladder cancer.
Had to have the ticker transplanted, years ago,
It doesn’t bother me now, though, 
Then I went and got shot again,
I knew my bad luck had to end, but when?
I stopped working in the Security industry, then!
I came off my motor-bike in the fog,
Out of hospital, had some police dialogue,
They fined me £20, speeding, I was agog!
Got a job driving a delivery van,
And became quite a Casanovan,
Got made redundant three times, lucky man!
Retired, well it was enforced of course,
But I had little remorse,
Got a part-time job, selling pickles and sauce,
When I reached 70, we had a discourse,
Then the Peripheral Neuropathy was diagnosed,
Got the tablets mixed-up, and overdosed,
They said stay indoor, well, I wasn’t opposed!

Then along came the stroke, of the ischaemic type,
Saccades, as well, of dear, this medical hype,
But I wasn’t one to moan and gripe,
I recovered, but physically, I’m a load of tripe,
They discovered I had diabetes,
Life became full of abstrusities,
My ailments seem to grow complexities.

Next, I’m using a walking stick,
Unbalanced, falling-over, it made me sick,
No choices then, at home I have to stick,
I fell, and gave my neck a crick,
I’m no longer the witty, clever-dick,
But I somehow cope, and that was fantastic.

Then along came to visit us,
The Corona Virus,
Isolation, no going out walking or on a bus,
Every day new instructions, what a fuss,
But at least I got rid of furuncle’s puss!
Until disabilities meant I couldn’t bend down,
And the worst, that really gets me down…
It’s bad enough doing your own syringes,
Is the bloody Sock-Glide, frame,
I gave it a go, I was really game,
But it keeps taking lumps out of my fingers,
And I don’t like these whinges,
Using the Sock-Glide means many cringes,
It’s not just the pain – mentally you’ll find it unhinges!

This claptrap was rit rote, written by Inchcock, with dedication and stupidity in support of the Peterborough & District Failed Philharmonic Orchestra Players, collection fund for the Bankers & Investors Roadkill Hospice Advocacy Society.

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

Bear with me; these are hard to find…

At birth, I lived through Mother’s fag ash dropping on me,

I had Double-Pneumonia at the age of three,

Sister Jane was almost adopted, to Italy, she did flee,

Brother Pete, escaped, good for him, went in the army,

Mother running away, the police wanted her, you see,

Which left just poor old Dad and me,

Doing the cleaning, shopping, and two paper-rounds, that was Inchy!

I survived being thrown in the Nottingham Canal,

Clinging to a barge rope, without much hope,

I was rescued by Brain, a neighbour, and a real pal,

Hauled out, was taken home, full of hope,

Got a belting off of Dad, and scrubbed with carbolic soap!

GC Young

Jane away in Italy still,

Life was for us both, a bitter pill,

We’d both had our sad times, but still,

I started work, bought a bike that would go uphill!

Duodenal ulcer, Anne Gyna I acquired easily enough,

Got shot at work, and a new heart fitted,

Fron flat to flat, I flitted,

Got made redundant, Cancer zapped, not fritted,

Job searching failed, hopes, attritted,

My desires, faith, and plans buffetted!

GC stick

Then along came Peripheral Neuropathy ailment,

 Jane, back from Australia, accompanied me,

To and from the hospital, she was heaven sent!

Then the stroke, I was a broken bloke,

Months in care, after the stroke,

Slowly, recovery began to cloak,

Bits of the old Inchcock, showed, bespoke,

And I knew something more would wroke!

Then the diabetes was found,

And things got worserer, all around,

When Saccades-Sandra, was also found!

But, my hopes and aspirations remain,

Although I am no longer sane,

I’m ready for the challenges again…

I just wish there was a little less pain!

I fang you!

 

Inchcockum: Monday 20th July 2020 – Failure-filled, Frustrating and Phenomenally Fear-Fermenting day!

Canadian TFZer Model

Monday 20th July 2020

Esperanto: Lundon la 21an de Julio 2020

03:50hrs:  Woke up, wee-wee was required. I found the three nail-clippers I opened last night, in various places on my body? The little finger on my left hand had been bleeding but had now congealed near the nail. Erm?

By the time I’d got out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, rickety recliner and got my balance, the Porcelain Throne was also needed. With painful, partially crippling uncut toenails stinging, I hobbled to the wet room, with all alacrity.

Cor-Blimus!, that a quickie it was! Messy, pongy, and painful too! Humph! Washed and cleaned up, and to the computer, to look up the day’s doings on the calendar, because the vagueness of mind and inability to concentrate had caused a blank-spell. I’ve got the Morrison’s order 08:30>09:30hrs, the Warfarin blood test-nurse (anytime between 09:00>16:00hrs). The recyclable bags to take down that might need two trips. I must get help calling the Doctors and foot clinic, hoping to get an appointment.

Off to get the Health Checks and medications taken. By the time I’d limped to the hallway, my indistinctive, vagueness, ambivalent, fuzziness of mind, decided I’d get the stand-up ablutions done first? So I did!

And a right mess I made of them! The legs and feet were looking okay, though. If only the pain would go away (Hehehe!), I realised later that I had not cleaned my teeth! The shaving did not produce a single cut or nick! I knocked the waste bin over!

Stubbed my toe against the sink support! (Luckily, it was the right foot, and Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters was playing up, so the pain was minimal! No doubt when the nerve-ends come back online, they’ll let the brain know. That’ll be fun!). Then, I sprayed myself with air freshener, and not the deodorant! All in all, I made a right mess of it, but somehow, I just didn’t seem concerned at that time? (Fuzzy-Mind Fred?)

I got dressed and off to the kitchenette to make a brew, take the medications, and do the Health Checks. The view from the thick-framed, light, and view-blocking new windows was terrific.

As I was taking this photograph of the scene, my vagueness seemed to dissipate a tad. But this regaining a little control of the grey-cells brought with it all the worries, concerns, fears, and failures to mind! The Thought-Storms attacked.

As I turned away from the window, I knocked the electric can-opener off of the ledge. It fell, via the server tray, and wall, right onto my poor foot and big toe! However, there was a bit of genuine good-luck involved here! The flex only allowed it as far as to hit the toe once, it had reached the limit the flex allowed and was pulled away! Thus, the pain was far less than had the machine not been plugged in! Well, well, Double-Smug-Mode almost adopted! But I realised it would not be long until another Whoopsie or Accifauxpas would befall me. My EQ told me I was due for a harassing day! I think I might have a black-toenail developing now? Ah-well, it could have been far worse!

I got the Jenny-supplied little picker-upperer and retrieved the machine from where it hung near the floor. Then I had a search and found the blade section that had gone in a different direction as it flew off of the main body. Argh! The opener no longer works! Granglesbognessbugger! 

At last, I got around to taking the medications, and then did the Health Checks, starting with the BP, sphygmomanometerisationing. The SYS was still a bit high. The stick-thermometer was used, it showed as just ‘Low’.

Then, with the morning’s vagueness, instead of updating the Sunday blog, I started this one off, before I forgot the mayhem that had taken place last night.

Then, I moved on to updating the Sunday post. Got it finished and posted off the Email links, and did the Facebooking. The intercom rang out, it was the Morrison delivery arriving. I got the bags from the doorway into the kitchen. And what a lot of sorting-out I had to do, too!

I started with the fresh foods, and they all looked good and clean to me! The only minor problem with these was substituted milk. They’d sent a bottle twice as large as the one I wanted. So some throwing away to come, methinks. 

The cupboard stuff was sorted and stored away. The only bleach available was a thin 2litre one, but it” have to do. And the washing up liquids I’d ordered arrived, also an apple and orange, scented one? Mmm?

Getting all the fresh stuff in the fridge was a challenge, Hahaha!

Cupboarded the other stuff, and I had to put a few items in the junk room. Including four baked bean cans that I didn’t realise I’d ordered. I recall thinking of getting them at a special offer price, I didn’t reckon that I had.

But, that’s me all over. Confused easily, and doolally prone!

I was beginning to get myself worked up a bit. (Little did I know then, just how uptight, irritable and meg-frustrated I was going to get today!) And rather busy, as well! But the view outside helped calm me down a bit, temporarily.

They had sent the two plain flour bags, and I’d ordered an extra carton of red grapes as well, they were on offer price if I bought two, so I did. As a thank you for Jenny for her care and help. I called Jenny and told her I was on my way down with the flour. We had a little natter at the same time, I appreciate that. Getting down, was a problem with there only being one lift available for the residents, and the rule (Rightly so!) that only one goes in an elevator at a time. The not allowed cage kept coming to me at first, so I had to nip in and sent the lift to a lower floor, and hope that the resident’s lift had no one in it when it came. Cunning, I am! Haha! I got to Jenny’s and Franks flat, and I left the bag near the door. The lady had left £2 in payment for the flour in an envelope on her door for me. Bless her!

I got the black bags for the chute, and the big-bag of recyclables to go down to the caretaker’s area bin. I forgot to take the camera with me, though. It was going down in the elevator, that I realised that the rear-end furunculosis, wasn’t giving me any bother. That was good!

I went out to the recycle bin, but couldn’t see any caretaker’s to help me at the time, so I had to leave the bag near the skip.

Coming back in, and I saw Riechsfuhreress and Catwalk Model Warden Deana. I took the chance to have a word (More a pathetic moan and plea for help, really, Haha!) with her, about my problem with the toenails. She kindly said she would call the Sherwood podiatrist te when I might get in to see her, then she’ll call the private costly foot-lady who operates one day a week from Winwood Court, to see if she can do me. And would ring me back with what she finds out for me. Fair enough, I couldn’t ask for more! Well, I could, but that would be naughty! Har-har!

Hello, I thought, things looking up? I should have known better!

I got back up to the flat and started to get fresh pod peas podded. They were far better quality than those I bought two weeks ago, Looking forward to these tonight.

In the middle of doing them, the delightful Vampire Blood Nurse, Hristina arrived. She was in a hurry again, bless her. But did natter to me while the gal took my blood. I mentioned the foot lady and what she charges for nail cutting, and the nurse said “I’m in the wrong business, I ought to change to chiropody!” with a broad, beautiful smile on her pulchritudinous face. ♥

I was about to finish off the peas, add some demerara sugar to them in the pan, and get some potatoes in another saucepan when Sister Jane rang me. So lovely to hear her voice. But the news was not all good. She and Pete had had more bother from their neighbour! I listened for a while, wishing I could help. Then the light on the landline phone we were on, flashed. I thought it might be Warden and desktop dancer Deana with news of the foot clinic. Jane rang off, and the light stopped blinking! Humph!

At long last, I got onto doing this blog updating. What a messy, niggly, frustrating busy day! 

I went onto the WordPress Reader.

The door-chimes rang out with the Dusty Springfield tune, “I only want to be with you”. I hobble to the door, to find the postman delivering the Kodak camera! I thought today couldn’t get any worse, I was so wrong!

I managed to get the battery in the camera, but it is so late, I was reluctant to get all involved in trying to try and learn about the Kodak at this moment. But, boys will be boys!

The electric plug was an American a round two-pin one, for the charger. I got myself in a right pickle, trying to find out if and how to set things up! I gave up in the end. I’m going to have to go begging for help on this one. Now I really was getting irritable, peed-off, and so tired. Long past my head-down time and I haven’t even got the meal started!

The moment I again thought, ‘Can it get any worse’, the landline rang! It was Deana with bad news on the Podiatrist front problem.

As I understood Deana:

  • The private chiropodist will not do anything with my feet or toes, until I have seen the doctor, and got the all-clear with my other ailments, for her to go ahead! Blanglebotherations!
  • My usual podiatrist at the Elmswood Medical Centre in Sherwood has a waiting list so long, she could not get me an appointment, until October 28th! Argh!
  • However, if I could get to the St Anns clinic, they could get me in, for next Monday, on the 27th of July! But, the only time available is for 09:10hrs! Claptickleisations!
  • I asked Deana to please arrange for that appointment for me. 
  • Of course, I will not be able to use my bus pass, and the buses don’t call before 0930 at the flats, anyway! So, it will be a taxi for me then.
  • That is if Deana can get me the appointment!
  • She said she will ring back later and let know, Bless her!

And I will have to bother Jenny to ring for a cab for me! That is if I can get the appointment!

Why does nothing ever seem to go right, or easy for me? Mind you, I ought to be used to really! Clapstickleisations!

I’ll try to get some din-dins made up then. Or, top missen! No, better not, I’ll only get it wrong and be in trouble! Spit!

A struggle and stress-worthy job getting the meal ready while feeling so tired, irritable and worn-out. The dropsies were active. But I pressed on and got it served up.

It turned out to be a delightful indulgence. The garden peas were lovely, the acetous beetroot and carrots were tasty, the boiled in soy flavoured water potatoes, then dotted with Hoisin sauce, really were most excellent. The ready-cooked beef was as good as I’ve ever tasted. A deserved flavour rating of 8.5/10 for this effort! Weary as I felt, I still savoured each forkful!

Got the pots washed, took the evening medications and ointments, gels and lotions applied to those areas of my fine, magnificent, sculpted, toned, fit, young muscular body, in need of treatment. (Cough!)

I got down in the £300, c1968, second-hand, pukingly-beige-coloured, none working, ramshackle, uncomfortable in the extreme, not-working, rusty, rickety, near-lethal, recliner, and was off onto the land of Nod, within minutes! Fantastic! Sweet Morpheus!

I was woken by the sound of the door Chimes, both being pressed.

Unbelievably, it was Josie waking me up again! I could not be annoyed though, the gal had been out shopping, and bought me some peaches and strawberries. Bless her! I had to explain that I am allergic to fresh strawberries, and do not like peaches. I felt bad telling her, and she looked a little downhearted. I apologised, she wanted to know what she could get me, in return for the Sunday meals. Again, I said, all I need is for you to enjoy the meals, that’s enough for me, Josie! She persisted in knowing what she can get for me, though. Apples I said, I like apples! I’m sure she feels the need to give me something back. I returned to the recliner, feeling a bit guilty.

But of course, by then, Sweet Morpheus was not interested in allowing me to get back to sleep, and the Thought-Storming started!  Grobbleknangles!

Ah-well! Fare-thee well, sanity!

I’m Determined to destroy Depression!

I’m Determined to destroy Depression!

2Tue08a

I decided, in a dream, I had yesternight,
Depression, I’ll resist, beat and outfight,
I must be strong, determined, not contrite,
I’ll be honest with myself, not like a Blairite,
My approach, will-power, must be definite!
I’ll have courage, like a brave medieval Knight,
And continue to show my vigour and fight,
Although my confidence may be finite,
This misery, I will surely try to expedite,
I must give this depression, no respite,
Ridding myself of this soul-destroying plight,
Who knows if I can, I just possibly might?
Then hopefully, I’ll get some sleep tonight,
And for supper, I can have some toasted Marmite!

Created during an aberrant spell of semi-confidence.

No Brexiteers were harmed during the production of this waffle!