– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Cutting up potatoes, I found a wriggler…
A maggot, but used wriggler; it sounded funnier,
Just two cuts, to the same finger…
Using on each a waterproof plaster,
While the sauce got burnt to a cinder,
To give the potatoes a bit more flavour,
I added tandoori, lemon & coriander,
And the recommended garam masala,
Stood-up, how I didn’t fall’s a puzzler…
I went into a dissociative seizure,
Compared to the norm, this was longer,
Spuds were rock hard, my language vulgar,
Got potato waffles from the refrigerator,
I picked up long picker-upper, Peter,
To retrieve the spoon dropped earlier,
Knocking over a bottle of malted vinegar,
After mopping it up, the floor was cleaner,
Finally, I was ready to serve up dinner,
My waffles, burnt and withered,
Everything on the tray was assembled,
Carefully, into the front I hobbled… My ingrowing toenail was stubbed!
Spilt food, carpet to be scrubbed,
Meal binned, pots washed…
So, my food plans were altered,
To bags of crisps, ready-salted…
Salt & vinegar, and barbequed,
New Year views to be photo’d,
Things didn’t go as anticipated!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Afternoon Delight.
A little later…
Sunset, Gorgeous! Zoomed in a bit… And another… Then right out.
The third attempt produced this
edible meal. At last! Hehe!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I think this may be impossible,
Even, mayhap, unbelievable…
I was sleeping, all peaceably,
A dream began, and sillily… Although seemingly unlikely…
I knew I was having a seizure, really!
As I flew in the sky, inconceivable, A pterodactylus sent by the Devil, Attacked me, I was in trouble… Then an eagle too, what a kerfuffle, I’d lost an arm and a leg, pitiful! I yodelled for help, desperately, That was when the nurse woke me. I took your photo, she said laugingly, Pointing out that I looked pale & ghostly! The after-seizure reflux rose, all acidity, But I have two arms and legs, thankfully,
Hydrocephalus, or Peripheral Neuropathy? Doreen Dementia, or plain insanity?
Was it neurological? Or nonsensical? Maybe psychosis, anxiety or neurosal? What caused this wasn’t perceptible, That dream was certainly original, Was it symbolic, or metaphorical? The nurse indeed found it comical! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I hope to do a better job of tomorrow’s blog. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Inchy: You made a meal of that last hospital stay, didn’t you? Inchie: Wot do yer mean? Inchy:: Three weeks of bed baths, heart failure, broken bones in your wrist, hand and knee… threatened to nobble another patient, had to be constrained by the orthopaedic staff… Inchie: Hang on, hang on, gimme a chance to answer… Inchy: Go on then, answer! Inchie: Forgot the first question now… Inchy: You pillock! Bed baths! Inchie: Oh, yeah, the bed baths; Years ago they would have been a pleasure, but not nowadays… Inchy: Why’s that then? Inchie: You have to ask? You’ve been in my brain for 82 years, and you haven’t noticed that I had bladder and prostate cancer? Can’t sire a child, or even have sex with the bloody catheter on or off? Inchy: Well, it gave me some pleasure to get you upset and remind you of your lousy luck & inabilities —it’s my only pleasure! Sorry old chap, I can’t help it… It brought me some pleasure to upset you and remind you of your bad luck and shortcomings. Your fault, I suppose. Inchie: The neurologist suggested it could be due to schizophrenia and other psychotic disorders: That you are in my head; Neurological conditions: Dementia… Inchy: Ah, you’ve got peripheral neuropathy, pre-morbid Cognitive Impairment, and you’re as depressed as a crocodile when the Great Wildebeest Migration fail to turn up for a drink… Inchie: You’re doing it again! Having a go at me! Inchy: No more than when you start self-lambasting in your sleep! Inchie: Oh, you know about that then? Inchy: I probably know more about you than you do! Inchie: How? Inchy: I’ve not got Early Diabetic Dementia, Cognitive Impairment, or a memory as much use as a cullinder to hold water, you have! Inchie: Oh! I see… Inchy: You don’t see very well, though, do you? Cause your cataract operation failed, and now you’re on yet another NHS waiting list, to have your Gladys Glaucoma-fogged eyes lasered… Inchie: Erm… Inchy: Don’t interrupt! Inchie: Sorry! Inchy: This brings me back to the Wilderbeast migrating for water, to you see the connection? Inchie: Erm… no… Inchy: Hydrocephalus; water on the brain! The buildup of excess cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) in the brain puts pressure on your brain tissue. Symptoms include headaches, nausea, vomiting, vision problems (you?), difficulty walking (you?), and cognitive changes like confusion (you?) or dementia (you?). Struth, you were told about it in hospital, can you not recall it? Inchie: I clearly recall someone telling me they had diagnosed heart failure… that I’d been in surgery, but I can’t recall being in surgery. Inchy: I was just about to get to that! I reckon it shocked you, that’s why you forgot about the Hydrocephalus? Inchie: No, I haven’t forgotten about it, actually… Inchy: You little fibber! Inchie: Crog-off! (Stamping foot – which set off pain from the knee joint and Cartilage Chloe) Inchy: Hehehe! You’re so teasable, provokable and trollable! Inchie: No, I’m not… whatever trollable means! Inchy: Do you mean to tell me that you went into heart failure in the hospital, and cannot remember anything about any procedure, treatment or actions taken? Inchie: Yes. Inchy: Liar! Inchie: No, it’s true, mate. The previous 3 days in there, the blood test went down so much. The blood oxygen saturation (\(SpO_{2}\)) went down from the previous days’ average of 92 to a low of 19! The pulse rate (PR\(SpO_{2}\) down from 69 to 15. A nurse wrote the figures for me to show my Doctor next time I see her. Inchy: You got to see your NHS Doctor? Now I know you’re speaking with a Keir Starmer forked tongue! Inchie: I didn’t say I got an appointment, did I? Inchy:Well, no, I suppose not… Inchie: You are a conclusion jumper-tooerer! Inchy: Go on then, tell me about it… Inchie: Carer Ejaz tried to ring the surgery on several occasions after I waited for 4 hours for the lift to get me home from the hospital; He rang repeatedly on Monday, Wednesday, Thursday & Friday. When I or a Carer phones the surgery now, we are put through to an assessor, who decides if an appointment is necessary for the caller. After waiting to listen to music and medical advice that has nothing to do with your problem, and being told, as Ejax was a Wednesday, you are caller number 19 in the queue! When he got down to ‘You are now number 3 in the queue, ‘the line went dead!’ A fortnight later, after many more frustrating failures, Ejaz got to talk to a receptionist, not an adjudicator or AI. She advised him that the nearest Wednesday with a space for you is Wednesday, 19th November! However, they had some news to hand him. The Covid and Flu jabs are no longer done at home; we have to book an appointment with a chemist ASAP. We gave up! Inchy: Do you know, I’m leaving you now, with a promise to give you a break and a little peace. I feel so guilty about badgering you! Inchie: I don’t believe you! Inchy: No, you’re right, see you tomorrow! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Woke up feeling properly poorly, well, not so good. I think I’d had a seizure in my sleep, because the moment I returned to ersatz semiconscious life, the upflowing acidic-tasting whatever it was shot up into my throat, then mouth. I’d not moved physically at all, yet felt so dizzy I thought I was going to go over, even though there was nowhere to fall to. It can be like this sometimes. I knew, Gawd knows how, that my balance was going to be a problem, with the dizziness and semi-confusion of my brain. That was a silly thing to bother telling you; that is pretty-near to usual and normal for me. Hahaha!
I’ve not been up to much most of the day, but am perking up a little now – I even had a visit from a while ago (17:15hrs), he’s still with me twenty minutes later. Jolly Good!
I took these snaps of the morning view from the kitchenette. Later, I couldn’t find the Kodak Tim 2 camera anywhere! I’m losing so many things; had it not been for the Carers, I’d have lost the TV remote twice, my watch, my diabetes and dementia badges, my reading glasses, and on three occasions, my keys. All this last week. I expected things would get worse, but this habit of misplacing or losing things is still painful to accept. With the Carer’s help, I eventually found them, but not the Kodak.
However, I did make a late start on this blog, cause I wasn’t up to it earlier; so little on it, I’m afraid. So, less of the usual dollop of uninteresting stuff.
Just finished the Ode that isn’t an Ode above. I enjoyed doing this one.
Dumbfounding! CorelDraw has crashed! Bloody glad I got the graphics done first.
I was about to turn it all off and on again, in hopes of self-correction, and I was hastily summoned to the Porcelain Throne. A marathon of marathons session. The second long one this week, but this one was more persistent, and came with regular colouring!
No luck with CorelDraw,
However, WordPress also confused me, which is nothing new, of course. Many readers will have suffered various quirks, idiosyncrasies, irregularities, kinks, and oddities, I’m sure. My problem was losing my concentration, and things I used to handle almost with ease now baffle me. I tried for ages to get the Hepta font, which I’m using in the editor. Trouble with my short-term memory, and I cannot recall how I got it a few years ago. But the Hepta semi-bold font is ideal, cause Glaucoma Gladys can read it easier. But after thinking I’d got it going, only the medium one showed on the editor and review page. As I chirped up a bit, I tried again to change them in the editor. I thought I was doing what I had done before, but then found another option for changing the default font that didn’t have any Hepta options. I dug deeper and found that if I left the Default option on and clicked the square next to it, I could choose default Semi-bold and try it. Now I see semi-bold on this editor as I write, and also on the review page. Have I cracked it? Hang on, I’ll check that again. Dragknuckles and Megarollicks! The preview showed a different font! I pressed F5, and it showed as Hepta. Do you think I’m too old to ever get something right again? Ejaz came as I was trying to figure out where the blood was coming from while I was shaving. It was pouring down my neck, but the tissues plonked on my head showed no red stuff. Ejaz to the rescue again. He spotted that I’d cut the tab on my earhole. He got the plasters and put one on for me, bless him. He’s a good lad to me. I was under the impression that Ejaz had arrived a little late, so I asked him if he was alright. He took a snap of it. After he’s gone, I realised my cock-up again. One I’ve made, I think, for the last three years at least..I’d forgotten the clocks went back last night! I shall apologise on his next call. What a twit – I’m beginning to worry about my wayward ways with my memory, loss of balance, taking three hospitalised tumbles this year (up to now), Dizzy spells, Arithmaphobia, and the mounting medical appointments that I can’t get a lift to. The Dentist, the Diabetes Clinic, the Audiology clinic, and the neurologists at the Queen’s Medical Centre. Not to mention DVT Warfarin one.
I prepared an easy meal for myself for when Ejaz has done his next-to-last call. Vegetable curry, with Fung-Po sauce, Bovril, water chestnuts and vinegar added. Two bread cheesy-topped rolls were added.
Blogging when Carer Ejaz arrived. Health Check figures checked, Body Check, Under padding and leg straps put back on. Medications Given. He laughed when I told him I’d missed the clock change again. So did I, but still annoyed myself.
No photographs or graphics, I’m afraid. A cartoon. Due to waking up at about 05:00 hours and foolishly not allowing myself time to do the balance exercises, as I was still a day behind on my blogging. And decided that getting washed, shaved, and medicated was a good idea, so I’d crack on with making this blog’s template nice and early. That was, if I remember rightly, the plan I had in mind. However… – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Sunday 7th Septsoddittember. Dizzy Dennis sent me down in an instant, a painful, crumpled heap, in agony, but I still fell asleep, alert, alarm activated, waiting for the ambulance. Carer Ejaz arrived to wake me, then the ambulance collected me. I was taken first to the A&E. Then, I was off to the GAU (Geriatric Accident Unit) at the QMC. Bone fractures in my finger, wrist, and four in my left knee. Three weeks later, and the hip & back pains are still bothering me, ever since returning home yesterday. 24th Sept, Wednesday. Monday 8th Septsoddittember. Visits in the ward from Social Workers wanting to help me, nothing happened, naturally. A jolly-looking lady from Physical Therapy, a Doctor, chatted about Peripheral Neuropathy. Things may be out of order, chronologically… I almost guarantee. Tuesday 9th Septsoddittember. No paper left, the pen ran out of ink, sadly, One cleaning teeth session for this internee. Moved to Cardiac, more tests, you see! Wednesday 10th Septsoddittember. Shaveless, visionless, deaf, nurses emptying out my pee, Rear-end evacuations repetitively… Transitioning from concrete to wet and runny. Thursday 11th Septsoddittember. Sister Jane came to see me with Pete, her hubby, More diagnostic imagery in Radiology, The rest of the day was spent in painful reflexology. Back for more tests and another X-ray. On the hip & wrist this time, not on the knee, Friday 12th Septsoddittember. Friday’s fish and chip meal, I ate it voraciously… The rear-end evacuations went uncontrollably, A night of swearing, howling, and muttering, Obviously, some patients were suffering… Then they started shouting & arguing, The nurses carried on blood taking… Saturday 13th Septsoddittember. My lowest to date BP reading… Sys 93, Dys 33, Blood count 23! Worried about this? Me? Couldn’t give a toss at the time, actually. Sunday 14th Septsoddittember. Five minutes later, nurses from Cardiology descended, and I was surrounded… lucky Inchy! To take another reading, needles in, but I was not bleeding? Eventually, they managed to get the blood trickling… The colour was orange, the amount was piffling! I was moved back to the cardiology Wing! They gave me some of the blood sugar booster, The medics seemed to be all in a flutter… They said after that I’d asked for bread & butter, Monday 15th Septsoddittember. All drugged up, mind & thoughts unsure… Stirred back to consciousness, aware, The medic’s efforts had been sustentacular, Blood count now showing 89 – 59, Spectacular! Tuesday 16th Septsoddittember. Back to the cardiac unit, the drugs soon had me sleeping, I was quickly aware that I was dreaming, Yet felt the mild ankle electric shocks shooting… Up my leg, which was doing its own thing, trembling, The nurse thought I was panicking & seizing. Wednesday 17th Septsoddittember., There were fairies on the bed, tapdancing… I could even see their eyes twinkling, faces smiling, Realising then, I was having a bed-bath & towelling, Somewhere in my mind I was tabogganing… Then thought no, it was more like falling, And nodded into peaceful sleeping, I heard music, someone bag-piping? His hand beckoning me… silently calling, Thursday 18th Septsoddittember, Woke up properly in Ward C54, red Zone, A battleground with no time to cavort, The atmosphere here had gone all wrought, How we got through it, with staff & patients unhurt… However, actual violence, we did thwart. Friday 19th Septsoddittember, Bedridden oldies, some naked, a few in a nightshirt, Patience was beginning to run short, Swearing, name-calling, had they been given drugs to snort? Threats of violence, in which I was upcaught! Saturday 20th Septsoddittember, They kicked off again in the morning, While I was undergoing my walking frame training,
Herbert, the worst one, started threatening…
A nurse who was calming him, well, trying…
He put his head down towards her, bullying, cursing,
This made my blood boil, I was fuming,
I launched at him, was stopped by a Doctor & therapist,
Security arrived, taking him down with degust,
I’m usually a pacifist and altruist,
I approached the bully with his folded fist… His intimidating a nurse made me subverst,
Was this a psychiatric ward? I was guilty, no pretence,
We all had neurological and or psychiatric psychosis,
I was spoken to by a neuropsychiatrist,
I went to the man to apologise, but he got in first…
Said he was so sorry, We both acted shamefully!
When things blew up again later, I reacted more calmly,
Ensuring I was never again a haranguer. Sunday 21st Septsoddittember, Informed that tomorrow, I’d be leaving, Informed the staff of Inchie Today, blogging, Pleased, I was told by many doctors, Of many upcoming appointments, One with a neuropsychiatrist… Rearrange missed appointments, First, with the audiologist, Then with the Sherwood Dentist, Warfarin and Deep Vein Thrombosis, Monday 22nd Septsoddittember, My leaving was delayed today, Perhaps it will be done on Tuesday? Through three arterial blood gas (ABG) tests, 67 at its highest was the best, Time for another session on the oxygen mask, And rich foods to avoid cyanosis, I’ll look this up when I get home, see what it is. Monday 22nd Septsoddittember, Early morning blood oxygen level is even lower, I can only hate & blame Starmer! To me, this doesn’t show adversity, Fed ultra-sweet stuff, persistently, Sickeningly, Misadventures, afflictions, never-ending calamity, Mistakes, errors, life’s incompatibility… Frustration, depression, apprehension… Surviving had been my vocation, Until insanity found my location, I’ve never been anything like a vaurian, Look up what it’s like to suffer verbigeration, Oligarchs see wealth as being Utopian, This waffling off subject, nears its conclusion… I’m now tired, baffled and full of confusion… At life’s cruel creeping transubstantiation, I’m no philosopher, scholar or theoretician, In fact, I’m bonkers, there’s an admission! I’m a mentally affected phenomenon… I’ll finish this Ode with some trepidation, Then take my tablets for constipation, Things may improve after my trephination? If considered necessary by my neurosurgeon, Anyway, the QMC released Inchy… On 24th Septsoddittember, Wednesday. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I had a lift home in an ambulance, had a joke or two with the ambulance men, and got them laughing en route. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Although it was a right mess that required cleaning up. No one had responded to my request to inform Blogger Paul of my incapacitation. In fact, the Warden did not even know I’d been in the hospital! But I was so glad to be home, and took some photographs of the kitchen sky views when I got in before doing anything else.
Oh, I missed these cloud formations, Just love them. Enough pleasuring for a moment, I had to check the dates of the food in the fridge. Then remembered I called Deana to tell her I was coming out, so as to speak, Hehe, and she’d checked them earlier for me. 👍🏼❤
Then, Carer Ejaz arrived. We’d missed each other over the QMC holiday (sarcasm there, Hahaha!) He did a grand job with the laundry and sorted all the medical paperwork I had been sent home with for me. Checked the catheter bag and body welts. I’d got a lot of them, with all that time I’d spent lying in the hospital bed. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I got a call from Jenny in a flat below, bless her. She came up to see me and we had a natter. That was precious to me, a lovely lady, and it was she who rang Deana and Julie about my blog not being published. And since her back was so painful when she had to stand and walk, she made the effort to welcome me back. ❤❤❤❤❤ An Angel – Bless you, Jenny XXX
Then the phone calls started coming in, which only confused me further, but they were all about medical matters. ICC (Carers) had arranged a Carer (Ruby) to give me a lift to the Doctors for the blood samples to be taken on Thursday. Smashing! The Lady rang, confusing me about the appointment with the Nuthall bonkers house assessment being cancelled, until after the Neuropathy Surgeon had interviewed me. Nurse Rebecca came to ask about what had happened at the hospital. She then checked my legs and ankles, and arranged for a much belated catheter contraption renewal, but I can’t recall when it is for. Next, the DVT Warfarin clinic rang. Carer Ruby ran me to the Doctors for the blood test, and my beautiful, desirable, caring Nurse Caroline took it, and passed on messages to Ruby about the Warfarin home visits being cancelled until the 1st of November. Then a new Warfarin dosage arrived. Still too high, with a change. By now, I was struggling to get a grip on the flood of changes coming in. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Ejaz had got a grip of the medication dosage changes, though. Thankfully! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Got some nice evening shots. From the kitchenette window. It is now 02:25hrs! Tired out, I am, and must get something to eat. Sweet & Sour vegetables with sausage, accompanied by Gung Po sauce, and cheesy bread rolls. I think I’ve uploaded the wrong photo here. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Friday already, no sleep, all the hassles of the day, and now the damaged knee has been joined by pain from Anne Gyna, which worsens when standing, sitting, or walking. Humph!
Bedtime now, or is it worth it at 03:00hrs? Better wash the pots first and do the safety checks.
Oh, Ejaz made a quick visit, Porpain gelled the knee and my back for me. I think he’s a grand lad.
Cheers Each All The Bestest!
Oh, I forgot, I found this photo on the web of British cigarettes from the 1950s and 1960s. The equivalent of about 17½p a packet. Did a check on today’s prices on Google. A pack of 20 cigarettes in the UK currently costs between approximately £14.00 and £18.00, with the average price for January 2025 reported at £ 16.40. Good job, I stopped years ago. Who can afford them at these prices? Oh, yes, Oligarchs!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Our intentions may well be admirable, But are they needed and desirable? If they happen to be altruistical? Are the benefits given physical or ethereal? Endurable, sustaining or apothegmatical? Will this incite the recipient to turn greedful? I don’t want to appear hyperbolical, After all, I’m fallible and infeasible, Arguing over things, possibly mental, fear of numbers, I love anything anecdotal, Still working out the meaning of biopsychosocial, Calculations and maths, to me, are cryptical, Logic, commonsense, I often find chimerical. Seizures can sometimes make me feel extrinsical, Leaving me feeling depressed and inimicable, Things I did 78 years ago are now unfathomable. I’m not a part, essential, or even integral… An unmoving nomad, innate, incognoscible, When Happy Horis visits, I get incorrigible… If Depressing Duncan returns, then I feel terrible! It’s only with me that I get argumental, Obviously, we don’t need to go all aetiological, It’s a practicality to be commonsensical, Seek for the localised idiosyncratical, Things may not become clear or irenical, No need to search for the inexplicable, Don’t spend valuable time on the impenetrable. Remember, we are not powerful or juridical… If baffled, then make yourself a foxhole. Still don’t understand? That’s fantasmagorical, Still struggling, I’ll write you another oracle! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Another busy, confusing day for the old groat! Carer ‘Joe’ did two calls, and Carer Ejaz did the other two. Phone calls from Matron and Nurse June. Nurse Helen told me to make an appointment, as requested by the Doctor, to see her. I hope to get one for on Wednesday, then Carer ‘Joe’ can accompany me. Asked him to ring surgery tomorrow afternoon if he does the afternoon call tomorrow. Made a few cock-ups again. I believe it’s the arithmaphobia that caused most of them. Ejaz took some snaps for me today of the outdoors. He noticed I’d got the micro-shakes. Bless him. Carer ‘Joe’ & Ejaz both helped me out last and this week. And with all the action from the medical front, you wouldn’t believe how appreciative I feel. Fair enough, I’m still with it enough to feel embarrassed at not being able to do things for myself. As I pointed out earlier, I believe the issue with the battery delivery and the microwave meal delivery was due to dates, times, and numbers. But were they? I think so; I experienced three waves of panic over the last two days as I misread or misunderstood the most straightforward advice and instructional details. Arithmaphobia?
I’ve been meaning to look up Ménière’s disease, the condition the nurse mentioned.
But have I done it yet? No!
To date, I have confirmed some appointments.
The four-wheeled walker is expected to arrive on Friday. Followed by a BRCCS Technician to sort it out and point out handling and safety features.
In abeyance, waiting for confirmation of the visit to the doctor next Wednesday or a later Wednesday so I can go with Carer ‘Joe’, who is aware of my actions and can explain things to me as they are.
On the 15th May. Nickie to do a walker assessment.
On the 23rd, Physio from Manuel.
Awaiting appointment for the Glaucoma lasering.
I’ve missed it on my calendar, but Nurse Caroline is coming to conduct the Pre-Morbid Cognitive Impairment assessment. Alternatively, I need to go to Nuthall Hospital to have it done. But when?
Nurse June rang, but I can’t remember what it was about. Thanks to a seizure, things did not register. At least, I think that’s why. Just photos from here on with what I can recall of them. The earlier ones hold a more explicit memory.
My morning shot before going to the wet room.
Things went okay, I think. One cut shaving Medicating was easier this morning because I only had to do about half of them, and the intercom chimed out. Naturally, I went back into the wet room and continued dressing without medicating.
Carer Ejaz arrived. He barrier-creamed the ankles, which looked a little more likely to erupt into seeping from . Ejaz took some shots from the kitchen window for me. Bluey blotches on this one? Great shot, Ejaz! Nice one. Is that smoke I see?
Blogging. It took me hours and hours, and I was still nowhere near catching up. Huh!
Mystery afternoon, and I don’t know why?
Ejaz evening call shots were taken for me.
I prepared a mixture of food and placed it in a microwavable container. Later, when I decided to add some mini-roast potatoes, there would be no room in the dish. So, while the spuds were cooking in the oven, I transferred the mix to a larger dish to use in the microwave. In the mixture went a can of vegetable curry, a ready meal of beef in black bean sauce, garden peas, water chestnuts, carrots and some extra Bisto gravy. Lip-licking luxury!
