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If I say that today was an odd day, this would be an understatement, a mild euphemism, and an undeniable matter-of-fact. Morning Carer Selina arrived. She medicated me and put on the socks, and after the gal had gone, I’d lost the plot with what I was going to type. Sad, innit?
The day continued in this mould. There were a few Out-of-it moments. Either I fell asleep, had mind blanks, or had a few Non-Epilectic Seizures. Take your pick; it could be any one of them. Or perhaps a mixture. Occasionally, when I returned to imitation life, I found I’d been working on something on the computer while mentally AWOL, with no memory of doing so! On other occasions, I’d done nothing whatsoever as far as I could ascertain. Also, before Selina departed, she took photos of the wee-wee I released into the jug…
The fluffy bits of whatever were back again! But the nurse last month wasn’t worried. I’m sure it will be alright. Likely, it was bits 
of my prostate coming out. Cause when the Specialist Doctor put me on the Finasteride tablets for a month.
Hoping they will reduce the size of my prostate to let me manually wee again.
So the month’s course is now a year-long one, and still, they ply me with more Prostate (RIP)-killing capsules?
A touch of overkill here, methinks. This is what makes me believe it’s the residue of my prostate floating in the jug of released urine? I don’t know, really. You never know; the Finasteride may have already done for the prostate and has now moved on to another organ to murder? Hehe! Haha!
I hope it doesn’t have a go at a larger organ; that would be pure agony to try and get whatever it was through Little Inchy and the Catheter’s narrow tube. (Inchy laughs weakly) With Confusion reigning again within my poor brain.
Concentration was as bad as it’s been for months today.
I’ll have to rush now; it’s Monday (10:15hrs), and as usual, I’m miles behind with the blog. I’ll have to comment quickly on the photos if I can recall the moment I took them. I’m so frustrated! And this morning (Mon), when I did the ablutions, I turned on the fan heater, and the room was filled with Acne and Eczema bits blown from all over my chubby, belly-dominated body. I don’t know why I told you that?
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A better colour this morning.
The sun was creeping up from the rear left of the blocks of prison cells—no, no, flats! It gave this shot a specific flavour, but I forgot what word I was going to use.
It’s safe to say that the oven burn scar will soon start to crumble off of the hand. It’s not easy taking photos with one hand.
Out came the new cordless hoover with its headlights on when in use. I think I’ll name it Vacuum Victor.
Had a good long session on the crossword before I could encourage Conrad to free it.
I caught my hand on the rack as I grabbed the toilet roll, and bits of a green-looking scar dropped off. It has taken eleven days to heal. I’d better not pick at it, though.
Afternoon and evening sky snaps.
Pareidolia’s Delight.
Faces, bird heads, a human head…
A taser, a beast with an open jaw, and a bird with an open beak—it’s incredible how many things I spotted today.
This is the last of the sky shots I took. I took some later ones without the SD card being inserted into Kodak Tim. Tsk! It could happen to anyone, (he says).
16:20hrs: Carer Ali arrived as I sat down to have the meal. The feasting was resumed after he’d gone. Baked beans with BBQ seasoning were added to some 
tomatoes and veggie sauce, mini vegan sausages, and chips, and I had such a hard time getting grime off the oven tray. I tried cleaning it, but I gave up and threw it away! Hence, the chips were mangled, but I still enjoyed them, even if they had cooled too much. The pot of jelly was of a sour-type one. Nice 
& Tangy! I put the TV on until Carer Richard arrived. He suffered from leg problems and was in pain, so there was no laughter tonight; bless his cotton socks. Gave him a cold drinkie, and he soon had me sorted. Diabetic socks removed.
Even I had to laugh at the mess I got myself into getting into the hospital bed tonight. Farcical? Yes? But at the time, it was also humorous. I’d done the safety checks on the taps cooker, etc., and pulled the curtains back to get as much light in the room as possible; this was to try to avoid needing to use the torch. Turned off the lights and edged my way in the semi-darkness, along the bed, towards the operating thingy…
I trod on a power socket 
extension that slightly made me jump. I knocked the overbed mini-table over, followed it onto the floor, and tripped again over the walking stick that had been knocked over as well. I wish this was being recorded in something other than my memory! It was worthy of being a Brian Rix-type Farce! As I struggled with my painful knees, which took me ages and started to foolishly, unthinkingly pull myself up using the bed as a grip… What a Plonker! Of course, the loose quilt on the bed assured my falling back down onto the floor and my bum again! I did feel like a silly old fool!
and 
started bleeding, I was back to square one, on the floor in agony! I somehow walked on my knees to the recliner to get myself upright again. The grief from Cartilages Chloe and Carole was so bad that when I did manage to haul up my elephantine-stomached body onto my feet again, I took a Codeine, creamed the Fungal Lesion and Harold’s Haemorrhoids, and Phorpain-Gelled both knees and Back-Pain-Brenda! I rose upright to make my way to the bed again… No, there’s more to come yet!
I fought my way carefully and cautiously into the hospital bed, using the torch this time. Within seconds of finding a comfortable position, the need for me to use the 
Porcelain Throne arose! I was extra heedful and got to the wet room without further hindrances. The flow started as my bottom hit the plastic lid. It came and came… and came! It was a Kharki, almost liquid type of evacuation. You know, the kind that leaves an uncomfortable sensation in your innards… well, my innards!
The cleaning up afterwards took a long time. I had to clean and medicate 
again.
Then, a high alert mode was adopted for the trip back to the long overdue, belated sleeping on the bed.
Amazingly, all went well with the return trip!
I had a few hiccups getting into the bed, but they are not worth mentioning. I think I drifted off into the land of Sweet Morpheus Post-Haste. I woke up after a decent amount of time with a vivid memory of the farce in my mind. So, So, I scribbled down some notes to use here.
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Fare Thee All Well!
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My concentration is degenerating into tabefaction. I was chatting away with Carer Joanne while she got the medications sorted, and I lost what I was talking about in a flash – twice! Then, later, as I was paying a visit to the 
, nothing moved, no motion, 
was in full control – absolute control. I sat and waited, counting the cracks in the ceiling (23), had a bash at the crossword puzzle (Got one answer), and as I gave up and stood up, I knocked the olive oil bottle, and it fell straight into the WC! Yes, I think I may have sworn… but not as much as I did two minutes later. Using the picker-upperer to get the Protection Pants back up, I tore them at the seam. I got a fresh pair out of the bag and started to carefully get them on, not easy as it took place mid-way through the procedure. But, no falls, no injuries, no harm. I got the pants in position and sorted the leg bag into position, and I seem to remember thinking to myself, at the time, ‘Well, that went well. ‘Fatal!’ I should have known better with my luck! I turned to leave, and I walked into the bloody doorframe again! Hitting it right where I’d had the Covid jab inserted! I cursed so angrily at myself; there was phlegm coming out of my mouth, and the pain seemed a second consideration; my first one was to curse my luck… several times and with a wide variety of self-vituperation & condemnation-led foul mutterings. Acrimoniousness, blasphemy & self- malignity! 
A jolly mug of Glengettie for me. I pathetically knocked it over in a Shaking Shaun second; Humph!
Made another.
Morning’s first photo.
The scab is breaking up slowly. I think some will be missing by tomorrow morning. I mustn’t pick at it!
As wot I wrote in the prologue.
Fresh leg bag on after ablutioning.
Second external photo.
Emptying the Catheter Day Bag.
I swear it was bubbling. Hehe!
Third window shot, beautiful clouds.
AGAIN!
Later on, clouds again.
Plenty of things in these, I see,
Tore the PPs. As already mentioned above.
I got it! But it took me far more than 3 seconds!
Contrails in the sky… or are they?
It was a lovely meal. Lamb and mutton burgers were eaten on thin slices of milk roll bread, dunked in ketchup with pickle. Nice UK tomatoes and crinkle-cut chips! A pot of mandarins in jelly eaten for afters. Nice!
Took this early morning photo.
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, in yesterday’s blog. She recognised my condition immediately. The belated COVID side effects were that the arm was stinging, and apparently, I was stuttering as I spoke to the gal. I fear it got worse as the day went on. Confusionabalitis reined. I kept going into mind-blanks and seizures at an alarming rate. However, it was the same after last year’s Covid jab, so I’m not panicking. 
Varer Christopher took some sky photos for me last night on his previous two visits that I can use. My eyes were not up to photographing much, but I took a couple before the effects got to me, which is another belated side effect. 
Chris’s first efforts here.
From the balcony window.
Nice.
A double shot, methinks?
His second visit snaps.
Local residences.
Local residences.
I took this one earlier when trying to sleep in the chair.
Chris took this shot for me.
Also, this is one of the burn scars. It seems to be drying up now; the crust is beginning to break up. I burned my hand on the oven rack eight days ago! It’s a persistent little thing. Hehe!
Took this watching the TV in the hope of falling asleep.
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I was so pleased with the effects of the Covid Jab.
joined in. A belated payment in pain, dizziness and the eye’s vision were blurred again. Maryham was kind to me, got the socks on, their nocturnal pouch off, and gave me the medications; bless Her.
Good colour urine today!
Set on the long walk down Winchester Street Hill. Noticing a lot of dog-phoo en route.
This was the only short stretch of pavement that wasn’t cracked and broken. Struggled with the trolley a bit.
The first closed-down businesses are on the corner at the junction of Mansfield Road.
On my way to the Continental store, I passed another closed shop. Years ago, it was a Tesco, then a Fine Fare, and then a Trustees Bank. It is up for rent now.
Hobbled up to the chemist.
I’d got the timing wrong! Fancy that!
Japanese restaurant.
This wasn’t closed; she opened it later.
Closed.
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Closed
Closed.
Vandalised.
Greengrocers as was…
Bottom of the Hill.
The long trek up the Hill.
En route, I counted the dog droppings, 28.
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Sky.
Sky later.
Sky laterer…
Chips in’t oven.
Sausages ready.
Sliced a brown baguette.
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I painstakingly nudged my way out of bed and removed the catheter’s nocturnal night bag, grabbed Metal Micky, the four-pronged walking stick, and went off to the wet room to empty the pouch and use the Porcelain 
Throne. 
the JS order in the kitchen that had arrived. No other details until after Marie ♥ had gone, taking the waste bags for me. I started to sort out the delivery.
This array of Kodak Tim snaps were taken; well, they were on the SD card, so they must have been. Nobody told my brain that I’d taken them at the time; and
Contrails in the oh-so-blue sky, taken from the balcony, I think, this time. In comparison to some of the later shots, these are almost serene. 
Throughout the afternoon, I spent hours and hours making the templates. But occasionally, I marked where I was up to carefully and nipped to take more shots of the fantastic sky clouds on offer from the kitchenette window, then got back to the templates. 
This one on the left is another mystery photo. It was plainly taken by accident when I was shooting the above sky shots. Was I possibly adjusting the camera at the time?
I made a meal that went down very well. I’d got two 
ready-made Cumberland Pie meals, both just out of use-by date, so I decided to cook them both, along with a Cornish vegetable pastie and peas. I buried them in shredded Leicester cheese. I cooked
The last snap of the evening.
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Up at 05:50hrs: The wee-wee in the nocturnal catheter pouch was a little darker than yesterday’s. Well, that’s got the essential, crucial news out of the way. I am a confused fool.
midday call, and I hope I remember then.
In need of the Throne again.
or 
. Most likely a memory blank cause 
I’d taken photos and made a right mess of the blogging, which needed much repairing and correcting. These on the left were taken in the wet room, 
Carer Marie came, returning the laundry for me and putting it away for me as well ♥.
I’m not so sure when I took this photo. 
Bootiful evening shot of the sky here. Not that I can recall taking it. Yet I can remember things from back in the 1950s with almost clarity. Mostly the things I did, got wrong and failed at, mind you.
Ah! This is my evening meal: beef pie, potato patties, and garden peas, with some ketchup and a pickle on 
the plate. 
I still can’t see it?