Ill Inchcy – Sunday 28th February 2021 Diary

TFZer to the rescue!


INCHCOCK TODAY

Sunday 28th February 2021

Latin: MMXXI die 28 Mensis Februarii

01:40hrs: I stirred into imitation life, realised that I was not coughing or bringing up anywhere near so much phlegm. And it felt good, indeed, at last, the symptoms from the lethal to me Convid-19 AstraZeneca vaccine was weakening, after a full week! I spent a few moments fearing the second one coming up…

The innards bubbled, I adopted the Porcelain Throne – Defcon Two-Mode. And I fumbled my way out of the grotty, £300, second-hand, c1968, unsteady, not-working, incommodious, sickeningly beige-coloured, haemorrhoid-testing recliner, caught my balance of sorts and hastened to the wet room.

No sooner was I seated, and with Trotsky Terence in complete control, the vagariously doloriferous evacuation began. The discomfort and pain were soon over, but it was an Oh, so messy affair! The regular black and dark red mini-torpedoes funked like never before! 50% liquid! Bits of blood could be seen as I rose to assess the results of the dump.

The entire toilet roll plus was needed to clear things at the rear end! Gallons of water was used from the sink to remove the gooey pipework, funking, multi-coloured evacuated product! Many flushes later, things seemed to have been cleared.

The reliable, made in Hong Kong, the contactless thermometer showed a lower reading this morning, of 37.0°c-98.6°f. But this was still a smidge high, methinks?

The usually dependable, trustworthy, Chinese manufactured Boot’s Sphygmomanometer failed on the first two tries to come up with a reading.

On the third attempt, it worked, but the SYS was high at 180, DIA at 75, and the PULSE was 89bpm.

I updated the Excel file with the new figures.

Then took the missed evening medications and making up the moring one to leave in view so that I didn’t forget that one later, as well. Humph!

I made a start on updating the Saturday Diary. SSS Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and PP, Peripheral Pete, were giving me their ackamarackus tricks, which slowed me down with my progress.

As I was going to make a brew of Glengettie, the rumbling innards kicked-off again – which worked out well as it happens.  I was only feet away from the wet room door at the time and was soon in and sat on the raised plastic seat…

Oh, dearie me! This session was worse than the first one and more Accifauxpa-ridden, too!

  • The content was just the same style, but there seemed a lot more of it!
  • Not so much blood escaped.
  • I had to restock with toilet rolls and kitchen towels. Ultra-messy, and so much of it, gooey, gelatinous, gunky and semi-liquid at the same time!
  • Foul-smelling, evil-mephitic and noxious!
  • The clearing of the evacuated product took far longer this time. Several refillings of the tank, and many flushes, eventually did the trick!
  • Then, when I thought everything had been cleaned and freshened, I spotted a clump that had, I assumed, ejected itself as I position myself on the seat.

Embarrassment, shame, disgust and the futility of my hopes all lingered for a moment or two, teasing, humiliating me. I got things cleaned up.

Then I returned to the kitchen.

I took this photographicalisation through the kitchen window, it didn’t come out well, did it? Humph!

I got the updating finished and posted off to WordPress. Pinterested, a couple of yesterday’s pictures, then went on Facebook catch-up.

I made another brew. Then read and replied to some comments. Had a read of the Health Unlocked Peripheral Neuropathy site letters. And made a start on this post.

Well, time to get the ablutions sorted out, then. Off to the wet room, I trotted.

Well, just look at those legs, will you? Spider and iliac veins hardly noticeable! Clopidogrel almost gone! And the weals, lumps, myasthenia gravis, with no signs of any Idiopathic Polyneuropathy.  Admittedly the socks cover the ankle ulcer, but it was very faint.

I wonder if the Tate Gallery might be interested in buying a picture of my amazingly improving legs and knees? My pins photo would cost a lot less to the idiots who run the Tate Gallery, and if I may say so, are more artistic than Mr Andre’s ‘Pile of Bricks!’

Arthur Payne, Gallery Assistant, quoted in the Evening Standard, n.f.d. 1976: “These bricks have really brought the public in. They can’t make head or tail of them. Nothing has attracted as much attention as they have!”

Inchcock response: “It’s a shame something that is nothing to do with art should be bought by the desperate for fame, fools at the Tate Gallery!”

Of course, it doesn’t bother me! Oh, no!

Ablutions all done, I set to getting the walker-guide box filled with waste-bags and got them ready to rake to the waste chute.

I found another letter had arrived.

Worryingly it was from British Gas, an assured sign of price rises or confusing changes of tariffs! Sure enough, on opening the lying, two-faced, cheating, conning, unreliable, ignorant, mercantile, profit-seeking, undependable, unpredictable, untrustworthy, capricious, expensive, over-charging, anti-customer orientated, costly, compassionless, and pachydermatous British Gas envelope; I found an increase in payments! But it didn’t bother me!

I spat a little, cursed, sent a death wish through the ether, to Centrica boss-man, (who own British Gas,) Ian Conn, and the four bosses who raked in £2m bonuses as the customers were hit; with price-hikes! But it didn’t bother me! The profit-oriented gits are not going to get to me! Although, if I hear of any of them being cast-down and snuffing it excruciatingly painfully from Covid-19, it may cheer me up a little and bring a warm smile to my face.

I got out and into the lift lobby, with the rather well-filled box of waste-bags on the Trolley-guide and down to the tiny rubbish-chute at the far end.

I got in alright and even put the bags into the chute without any knocks or injuries down the tube. Getting back out was not so easily managed. There is not enough room to turn the walker-Guide around in the waste-room, so a spot of reversing is needed. I caught the trousers in the wheels coming out. Later I found a tear in the cloth and a spec of bleeding. It made me think of British Gas! I felt sick!

Out along the lift lobby in the opposite direction. The only art-deco end wall, I’ve not seen this on any other floor, seemed more attractive to me again. (Especially so with the bile being encouraged by British Gas!) I wonder if any other floors have this art-deco paint job on their wall?

I got back to the apartment, and I set about getting Josie’s nosh cooked and prepped. I was extra careful in the presentation of the extra cheesy, buttered and sea salted potatoes. They tasted good when I tried some; I hope Josie enjoys them. The strain-free tuna, mini-tomatoes, Surami sticks, roast onions, and today for a change, fresh garden peas and leeks added. A disc of the cheese she likes was left unopen, in case she fancied it later on. A can of Sainsbury’s Rum and coke added. I delivered it just before midday. I could her Josie talking to her sister on the phone as I rang the bells. Handed her the tray and explained about the peas and leeks and new drink. Again she asked why I buy the drink when I don’t drink it; also, I told her, ‘So you can drink it!’ today. She can’t understand it.

I washed the cooking utensils from her meal making, and I had a look to see if I could get in a slot with Iceland. I got one alright for next Tuesday. I hope they have the bread available this week.

I made just one more graphic on CorelDraw and made up my meal of the day. Potatoes with the rest of the garden peas and leeks, a few crispy onions, tomatoes and some horrible tasting cooked turkey pieces. But I did eat it all. The early weariness dawned.

I got the pots washed again and became rather insipid, and the tiredness came on rather quickly for some reason. I think I put the TV on and turned it off after a few minutes to search for Sweet Morpheus. But sadly, success was denied to me!

It was many hours before I nodded off. Yet I felt so weary and couldn’t understand why I wasn’t already snoring away? I do remember the door chimes going – that would have been Josie returning the food tray, I assume. But I just could not get up. The gal knows that if I am in, the door is never locked; she can open the door and place the tray and cutlery though the door. But the poor thing has a memory about as good as mine is, Hahaha!

Frustration was growing the longer I went without nodding off. It was as if something was determined that I would not get to sleep?

I lay there, started to plan the World Economic recovery from Covid, worked out that aliens would be seen openly next August 28th, and realised I had not had a wee for many, many hours.

Finally, I must have nodded-off, cause I woke up, in need of a wee-wee…

.

Bitter-Inchy, Tuesday 23rd February 2021, Sarcastic, anti-AstraZeneca Diary!

High-Class TFZer Bins!


INCHCOCK TODAY

Tuesday 23rd February 2021

Yoruba (Nigeria, Benin, and Togo): Ọjọ Tuesday 23rd Kínní 2021

01:20hrs: After managing to get my body to move for the first time in hours (mind you, I had to, to use the Porcelain Throne), I clambered my way painfully to the Throne Room.

I was well unwell, and the symptoms of the Covid-19 vaccinations remained as strong as ever on me? The rasping cough, sneezing bouts, muddled and befuddled brain, and the evacuations were still of the mostly yellow liquid with stringy lines of black and red liquid covered bobbles flowing into the bowl! A little bleeding and a lot of pain involved. Am I just unlucky or what? Silly question!

As I sat there, full of despair, I recalled bits of a repeating dream I’d had. But by the time I’d got the pen and pad I keep in there, most memories had disappeared into the ether. I remember I kept going into a store that sold model railways, and things began to shrink until I could no longer see or recognise what I was looking at? The chesty coughing with accompanying sneezing started again.

I recalled the nurse yesterday advising me to send an email with the details of how I’m not coping very well with the Covid jab reactions. It all feels so long ago now, during all I’d done was sit down and mope, fall asleep, dream, wake and mope, fall asleep… Life is not good! Clarity of thought no longer exists! Oh, I did try to eat something, but it was not very successful.

I took the morning medications, and sneezing and coughing once again, I made up the email to send to the surgery. I searched Mr Google, asking what news they had of reactions to the Covid vaccine details:

A load of cobblers that. If anything that others in the flats, and what the nurse told me about her patients (Including her Mother) are have been through! Which is similar to how I am at the moment.

I made up the email and sent it off. I don’t expect a reply. I just thought the surgery might be making real details of the various side-effects?

I began to update the Monday Diary. Got it finished in an amazingly swift time, due to the brilliant Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters and SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) both behaving so well towards me! Grrreat! I posted off the Diary, emailed the link, Pinterested a photo, and went on Facebooking catch-up.

At this point, it dawned on me that I’d only been to the Throne once up to now? An improvement, that is? Fingers crossed! But let’s not get too excited, though, Inchy!

I went on the WordPress Reader section. Then I had a look at the comments. A fair few in today, my concentration had moments of clarity with them in answering. Another possible good sign that the Covid Vaccine may be relenting a smidge?

I took a chance and made a brew of Glengettie Gold.

Another plus, the tea, as with everything I eat or drink, tasted all wrong to its characteristic flavour. But it was a little less acidy this time!

Then did the first (pre-dump) one of the Health Checks. The reliable old Boot’s Sphygmomanometer, manufactured by ZDEAC (Zhongshan Daguan Electrical Appliance Company Ltd) in Guangdong, China, shown another decent set of results. SYS at 149, DIA 74, and Pulse at 84bpm. Good enough for me!

The Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd, contactless thermometer showed a healthy-looking in the green, 36.4°c-97.5°f.

Ah, back to the Porcelain Throne! A copy cat evacuation as the last one. Mostly yellow liquid with stringy lines of black and red liquid covered bobbles flowing into the bowl! But, no bleeding this time! I got washed and cleaned up; it needed a few flushes to clear things away.

I walked into the door frame, leaving the wet room, again banging where the vaccine had gone into the arm, and for the second time, there was very little pain? Peculiar, to say the least?

I got the kettle on to refresh the mug of Glengettie that had gone a little chilly and decided out of the blue to venture out into the balcony, determined to try and get a couple of decent photographs taken in the early morning dimness.

To say I was using the Canon, I was pretty pleased with them for once. This Canon does not do darkness very well at all usually. I had a lot of failures before I managed to get these two. Refreshed the mug and did another Post-Dump Health Checks.

The Sphygmomanometer gave another set of decent figures. SYS 151, DIA 69 and PULSE at only 79bpm! The Chinese made contactless thermometer, proffered up a reading of 36.8°c – 98.24°f, a little higher than an hour ago?

I made up two templates. Sorted them, in order with the others, and got the ablutions done. No doubt I’m beginning to feel in better shape this morning, now.

I enjoyed the ablutionalisationing today. The brain seemed to be working a little better as well. The teeth cleaning and nasal blow-out went well, only two dropsies!

The batteries died in the dab radio. I wasn’t surprised; the six AA batteries never last longer than 3 hours in total. The biggest con! I left it turned off.

The shaving, well, I must have looked a little battered and bloodied afterwards, but the three nicks were only superficial ones. Four dropsies. I meant to get a photo of the chin; it looked impressive, but I was keen to get under the shower and freshen up using the lemon shower gel, and plenty of it was used! One clout against the grab rail when I dropped the gel and bent down to retrieve it. Total dropsies in the shower, just two!

As I dried off, I saw how the legs were almost perfect! I can’t understand why this improvement in their conditions has occurred. The old ulcer wound still lingers and occasionally itches. It seems the Clopidogrel arks and lumps that they told me would be with me forever have all cleared up? The biggest surprise is the Thrombophlebitis DVT are also absent?

Harold’s Haemorrhoids needed some tender treatment. I had no doubt cheered myself up somehow. I got the medications done and got dressed.

Then I got a few waste bags collated, and into the trolley box, and off to the waste chute and down the tube with them. I had just one box of recyclables and took that down in the lift to the green bin outside.

I had my first human contact for many days, other than medical personnel, and had a natter with Robert, the caretaker. I decided to have a hobble up Chestnut Walk to Winwood Court and call in see how the ILC’s were doing. I needed a bit of exercise.

I met with Penny, who was going to the bus stop en route. We had a laugh together. The Wardens were busy, said hello and wandered back to the flats. I was so annoyed with myself for forgetting to take the camera with me, Grrr!

I missed taking a shot of a murder of crows! I got back in the apartment and decided to take a couple of photos from the balcony in the daylight.

As bright as the sky was, the ground looked in shadows?

Then, made some spring water bottles up and added a splash of orange cordial and Jif lemon to them for drinking later on. I still think it’s a good idea to drink more yet.

I went on Amazon to see if I could get a Morrison order in. Bit of luck there, I got one in for today (11:20hrs) twixt    2:00 PM > 4:00PM.

Nice!

Unfortunately, I also got an email from the Email. About the failure to deliver the message I’d sent to the Doctors surgery about the Covid Vaccination problems! Humph! I’m all confused again!

How disappointing.

So, I tried ringing the surgery. A long recorded message was played, of which I could only hear bits and pieces of. It went to ringing, then another recorded message, ‘We are currently experiencing a high volume of calls…’ I rang off and gave up.

So, there is no way to talk to the Doctor and or inform her of the AstraZeneca side effects suffered, as the Nurse recommended me to. Just my luck to get the vaccine that is the worst one, the cheapest, and the one with the most side-effects! Remember folks, if you can, try to avoid this wicked, sick-making, Astra-Seneca crap, please do!

I searched the Government sight for assistance and found this significant bit of advice!

Hahahaha! Ask your doctor for advice? Great balls of uselessness! Not a cat in hells chance! I’ve been trying all day… Get in touch with your doctor? I’ve more chance of solving the World-Wide Hum while I’m on the Porcelain Throne there, thanks to the Astra-Seneca vaccine for the fifth time today!

So, I tried ringing the surgery. A long recorded message was played, of which I could only hear bits and pieces of. It went to ringing, then another recorded message, ‘We are currently experiencing a high volume of calls…’ I rang off and gave up.

But it doesn’t bother me, oh, no! I don’t mind snuffing it early, thanks to the WHO, who said it had approved the vaccine produced by AstraZeneca-SKBio from South Korea and the Serum Institute of India.

Then I got a letter from the Government: Extending my lockdown to the 31st of March 2021. Oh, lucky me!

The New York Times said: After Admitting Mistakes, AstraZeneca Faces Difficult Questions About Its Vaccine. Some trial participants only got a partial dose of AstraZeneca’s vaccine. Experts said the company’s spotty disclosures have eroded confidence.

The announcement weeks ago that a cheap, easy-to-make coronavirus vaccine appeared to be up to 90% effective was greeted with jubilation. “Get yourself a Vaccarino,” a British tabloid celebrated, noting that the vaccine, developed by AstraZeneca and the University of Oxford, costs less than a cup of coffee.

But since unveiling the preliminary results, AstraZeneca has acknowledged a critical mistake in the vaccine dosage received by some study participants, adding questions about whether the vaccine’s apparently spectacular efficacy will hold up under additional testing.

The UK is believed to have spent between £24 and £28 per dose on the Moderna jab, the Daily Mail reports. According to the BBC, while the Pfizer/BioNTech jab has a price tag of around £15, Oxford/AstraZeneca vaccine cost the government around £3 per thrust. So, I’ve also been vaccinated by the cheapest one available? It’s marvellous being so cared-about, innit?

But it doesn’t bother me, oh, no! I don’t mind snuffing it early, thanks to the WHO, who said it had approved the vaccine produced by AstraZeneca-SKBio from South Korea and the Serum Institute of India. I couldn’t give a fig now. Why bother?

I can’t get in touch with my doctor by email or phone. Professionals are telling me I must report the side effects to my Doctor… Glogknobbles! Mission Impossible! I’m fed-up!

I had a look to see if any comments had come in. Nope, not a one! Tsk!

The Morrison delivery tracker came available, and the shopper had one delivery; the next was mine. The chap arrived, but what he was saying on the intercom was impossible for me to understand. I opened the door, but he would not come in? I had to go down to meet him. That didn’t do me much good. Back up in the lift with him,  reluctantly, he wanted to leave the bags in the elevator, and he took my age etc., in the cage.

At last, he recognised I was struggling and brought them to the door for me, and off he trotted. Which was nice of the lad.

I was ell weary now. But, I was determined to get a meal of some sort.

I opted for Barbeque flavoured mackerel, surimi sticks, tomatoes, garden peas, wholemeal bread thins, and some misshaped cream eclairs for afters. The after-effects from the AstraZeneca vaccine meant things didn’t taste as normal by a long way yet, but a 6.5/10 for taste was given.

It went down alright; the sauce was a little hot, but that was okay, it helped to get some flavour through to the taste buds.

My hatred for being given this AstraZeneca vaccine, and the thought of having the second needle-full, depresses and scares me. As does my inability to report the effects to the Doctor.

My mind is still not right,

I’m in a terrible plight,

I’m losing the fight,

My sanity just might,

Be disappearing from sight,

My logicality is very slight,

Depression is at its height,

AstraZeneca vaccine; is my deadly Kryptonite!

Good night!

Inchcock Today – Thurs 26 Nov 20: I escaped to town on L9 bus – A Mistake!

Hello, hello! What’s going on?

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Thursday 26th November 2020:

Welsh: Dydd Iau 26 Tachwedd 2020:0

—————————————————————————————————–

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!

 

Inchcockski – Wed 25 Nov 20: My memory was malevolently-masticated, with maladroitness! Mmm?

TFZer Bliss ♥

Wednesday 25th November 2020

Somalian: Arbaco 25ka Nofeembar 2020

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01:25hrs: After a good five-hours (Great!) kip, I blundered back into semi-consciousness, in need of a wee-wee. Got the stomach with its dangly legs and arms attached, out of the c1968 recliner, caught my balance, and meandered slowly, unhurridly, and with a new more acute vageness than I’ve had in a long time, off to the wet room. Took the reluctant weak wee-wee, checked on Little Inchies fungal lesion (No bleeding), washed the hands, and made my way to the kitchenette.

The ambiguous, ambivalent brain, at first, sort of went along with what the body was doing, uninterested. It’s the best way I can express how things were at that moment. I was not wholly under the control of my thoughts or emotions at all – ideas, views, fears were milling around now in the head, but I was losing then as quickly as they came?

By chance, at that moment when I was getting the milk out of the fridge for the Glengettie, I spotted the moon was out and on display.

Things seemed to click back together in the bonce, and enthusiasm returned.

I fetched the Nikon camera, opened the unwanted, unliked, thick-framed, light & view-blocking new window, designed by some elderly people-hating gerascophobia or misogynist, and took these three efforts of the moon in the sky.

Cheered a smidgeon now, I got some potatoes out, got them in the crock-pot and added some Squid juice to them, and put them on a low setting.

I got the Health Checks done, as the Thought Storms began to come (I’d missed then overnight-Hehe!). The SYS is still a little high.

Well, well, and fancy that! The temperature was higher than it has ever been, at 37.6°c. I didn’t realise the read-out produced a changed colour when the figure was out of safe range, on the new thermometer. It has always been a shade of green since I’ve been using it, but not today. It’s gone to orange, next step red, I assume?

Something else to fret about. Just when Ann Gyna and Duodenal Donald were being in a good mood with me this morning (up to now). In fact apart from BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda), who is still enjoying her sadistic ache-giving pain distributionalisationing, things ere so good. I’ll have to ask Mr Google about this… hang on a second. – Oh, well, I didn’t know that! Mr G says A 75-year-old male – 97°F (36.1°c) to 99°F (37.2°c). So, it’s not too far out, is it? Tsk!

I made another brew of tea for the one that went cold, and I got the medications pot. Oh, dear, I’d done it again! I’d not taken last nights doses! No wonder BPB is moaning! So I took the belated ones and got the morning tablets in the pot read to remember to take later on.

Naturally, I was full unequivocal confidence that I’d remember (I stuck a note over the top of the computer screen, Hehehe!) to remind me to take them. Ahem!

After a few hours of updating the Tuesday IT, I got the urge for the Porcelain Throne. So, off to the wet room. Fantabulous Session again! A 2-0 win for Trotsky Terence against Constipation Konrad. Smoothly evacuated with minimal pain, quick also too! Only the mess that needed cleaning up was any bother.

Back to the computer, and seeing the note I’d left for myself, I remembered to take the morning medications. With Trotsky winning the battle of the Throne, I was unsure if I needed to take any more of the Dioctyl® poo-softener capsules or not. After some vacillating and dithering, I decided that the thought of going back to the concrete torpedoes was scarier and painful than the embarrassment of my messing my PPs. So, I took one. But was still not sure if I’d done the right thing.

Come think of it; that could be an outstanding, and suitable epitaph for me when I snuff it, “He was never sure if he’d done the right thing!”, for on the coffin, like? Yes, I like it!

I went to check on the progress of the potatoes. I’d not turned it on at the power socket. So, I did. I do feel such a fool!

I finished the updating of the blog. Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters and SSS were both surprisingly calm with me? Bless ’em! I Pinterested some snaps. Then did the Facebook catching up. Emailed the link. And went to get some brekkers made.

A BBQ pot noodle, and the remainder of the Wholemeal Irish Soda Bread. I made some gravy to add to it, and some Squid vinegar.

It came out so nice and tasty, rich- flavoured. And I so much enjoyed it with a mug of Thompsons Punjana tea. I’m getting used to this having breakfast now, as instructed by my Doctor Vindla, and the After Stroke team. I must try to eas a smaller afternoon meal, though. The Chilli-Con-Carni and or meatballs are going down well, with a little seasoning.

I went to investigate a noise I heard, from the kitchen methinks. I took the pots to wash at the same time. I could not find the cause of the clattering sound, though? I took a picture through the window. It looked eerie, and a bit like an Alpine Village?

PPs I got a call from my Gastroenterologist, asking how I went on with the pads she’d sent me to try. I was frank with her. I told her that using these pads meant wearing normal underpants, that needed pulling up so tight with the braces, that on the two occasions I tried using them, Little Inchies fungal lesson started to bleed. And the pain of treating it, due to my phimosis problem, applying the steroid cream to stop the bleeding, was too hurtful. Three times she said: “So you prefer to use the protection pants you are buying? Each time, I replied ‘No, not prefer, but have no choice, to protect myself from bleeding!’ Each mention, added; ‘We cannot supply protection pants for you!’ On my initial consultation with her, said this five times. On her last progress call, six times.

I think I’ve got it now – They cannot supply free PP’s for me. Hahaha!

It’s still a little gloomy and dark outside. I got the nosh.

I got the CCC in the pan, added some gravy and a drop of Balsamic, and Soy sauce added to the mix.

Then checked on Jenny’s email and replied to the angel, in between getting the evening meal prepped.

I’m trying to keep up with the waste bag situation. I use the old PPs box, and this makes it easier, cause I can add the tiny bags to it as I make them up. Then, when I struggle to the waste room chute, it is easier to get them from the box on the trolley-guide down the chute.

Despite my habit of trapping my fingers in the lid, having a dizzy, misjudging distances and gathering scars and the worst at times; when the malevolent, diabolical, involuntary right-leg (Tim Price from New Mexico named) Neuropathic Pete’s (Drop-what-your-holding), Schuhplattler dance bursts forth, and the leg flails about, gathering bruises and cuts, and encouraging fear and naughty language.  Doing it this way, there is no chance of any blockages in the pipe.

The nosh was served up. Note the lack of any bread? I’d ran out! My eating all the soda bread loaf in two sittings, and forgetting to either take some out of the freezer or put a part-baked roll or baguette in the oven… Well, I did actually put two small rolls in the oven… Maybe next time, it will be better to turn the oven on first.

The Chilli-Con-Carne was on my limit, hotness-wise. This should keep things moving in the Porcelain Throne area. Har-har! A 7.8/10 for flavour rating.

Shame about no bread, but to avoid further cock-ups of this nature tomorrow, I got a packet loaf of Milk Roll bread from the freezer when I did the pots.

Sleep, even this early, I needed, and it soon arrived, off into the land of Sweet Morpheus.

The landline rang and flashed, and a feeling; a sort of, “Ah, I wonder who that is?”arrived. I felt almost sure it would be the Deep Vein Thrombosis, INR Warfarin results and new dosages nurse. She hasn’t rung me for over a fortnight now.

I struggled up out of the c1968 recliner and stubbed my toe on the chair leg. I think I silently muttered something like, “Whoops!” Ahem!

It was Obersturmbannführeress Housing Patch Manager and Pole-Dancer, Angela. She has a good clear voice when not speaking too fast, so I heard most of what was said. My replies were affected by Stuttering Stephanie, but this lady knew and replaced every word I was struggling to get out, for me.  Clever gal!

She asked about how things were, gave me advice, and showed a genuine interest in my plight. Thank you, Madam!

I had a wee-wee and somehow remembered that I’d not taken the evening medications. Got the dosage pot, back to the recliner, and painfully seated on Harold’s Haemorrhoids. and the Thought Storm raged.

Again, I forgot to take the medications! – but I did when I woke and got up, just after midnight… with Arthur Itis giving me unexpected agony in both knees? Oy Oy, Oy!

Inchy – Tues 24 Nov 20: This time, Morrisons delivered my order to the wrong flats! I couldn’t even return the unwanted substitutes sent! Deana & Julie saved the day!

The Five TFZer group performing! ♥

Tuesday 24th November 2020

Maori: Turei 24th Noema 2020

With perms in the ladies hair, or wigs?

23:45hrs: I woke up just before midnight, still in pain from BPB & AG (Back-Pain-Brenda and Anne Gyna). And Harold’s Haemorrhoids soon joined in trenchantly, the moment I moved my stomach-dominated body.

I first felt, then spotted and removed the TV remote control, empty packet of Frazzles, pencil, and crumbs from the oleaginous folds of my belly fat. Well, it made a change, Hehe!

By the time I’d fought my way out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly, sickeningly beige-coloured, unstable, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, rickety, rachitic, recliner, and gingerly standing up, Haemorrhoid Harold had taken over the position as  LPAG (Lead-Pain-Ailment-Giver), the Germoloid ointment will be needed soon! Tsk!

Wee ChartA wee-wee was taken in the EOGPB (Essential-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket).

This was of the  (Unwilling-Weak-Sprinkly) variety, but the colour was, according to the Urologists Colour-Check-Card, within the ‘Healthy’, ‘Good’ number two-level, for the first time in months. Excellent!

I tended to the Health Checks. The body temperature was the same as yesterday, at 36.8°c. The battery indicator seems to have gone up a tad today?

And, what a change in the results of the Boots BP sphygmomanometer for the SYS result!

Down to 145, from yesterdays 171? I wonder why? I’m not complaining at all, but it would be nice to know the reason.

.I remembered not being able to get out last afternoon, with the waste bags to go to the rubbish chute. Some workers were doing something and had blocked the exit. Good job there wasn’t a fire. But then again, perhaps I had been informed and had forgotten about it. I wouldn’t be amazed if this was true.

I had a nip out of the door and flats door into the lift lobby, to have a nosey. I took these photographs with the Canon camera.

I could see some plastering had been done on the near end wall. I hope the mess left on the new flooring will clean up alright when they get around to it. It appears to be just some smeared plaster, so it should buff up alright without any damage to the new floor tiles. Obviously, they will be working again today to finish the painting off.

I hope to be able to get out to the chute sometime. But as the permitted time to use the chute starts at 08:00hrs, and the workers begin at the same time, it may mean me keeping the smelly bags of waste in the hallway for another day or so before I can access the chute room. Hey-ho!

The need for the Porcelain Throne arrived, a little later than usual. Off to the wet room, down on the seat, and waited for the action to start, which it didn’t! I had a go on the crosswording, read the ankle strap instruction and was about to give up when things started actioning from the rear end! I girded my loins, gritted my teeth, and winced in expectation of the upcoming pain…

The torpedo left the tube, with… wait for it… NO PAIN AT ALL! No bleeding either! Once it began slithering, it was all over and done within a minute! I hoax you not!

Fair enough, it was a tad messy, and that needed attention to detail, and time to clean up.

However, it was a delayed action jobbie, but it was as near a normal evacuation as I’ve ever had! Gawd, bless the Dioctyl® poo-softener capsules! Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit! Well pleased!

 I had a concentrated blast on updating the Monday IT blog. Accepting no interruptions for tea brewing, and fortunately, the wee-weeing seemed to have dried up? I should drink more.

Anne Gyna and Back-pain-Brenda both got less severe, but Duopdenal Donald started off. Can’t win ’em all!

It took three hours, but I got the updating finished and posted off to WordPress. Pinterested, a few shots, Emailed the link, and then I did some Facebooking catch-up.

Doing this, I got messages first from Norton. I needed attention: back-up, Vin and Security issues. I clicked on the amend buttons, and things seem alright now, I’ve got the green light on again? Then dropbox alerted me. I followed their instructions.

Closed the window (It said I can) while it worked, and had a peek at the feet, cause the ankle ulcer was tingling a bit. I’m not surprised, it looked to me as if it was moving up the leg, and had s new growth coming up on it?

Did another graphics, and checked on the closed window thingy for Dropbox. And it was still working away?

Then I went on the WordPress Reader to catch up on that.

Oh, blimey, it’s getting late! Better get a quickie ablutions session done! Even though I rushed at it (No shower), there was only eight dropsies and two tiny shaving cuts. No dizzies, but I did bash my shoulder on the door frame coming out afterwards. Another pretty good event!

I came to the front room (I haven’t got a back one, Hehe!), and thought I’d have a few nuts to nibble. Could I find them? No! Well, not least not for ages spent searching and looking in the most stupid places for the pot. I found cunningly hiding in plain view, in front of the TV. Harrumph!

I hope to catch the bus to Sherwood after the Morrison delivery has arrived and been sorted. But my EQ is telling things will not go well? Then I had a look on the web, an email had come in from Morrisons.

They’ve done it again. There were many missing and substituted items again. With my arithmophobia and dyscalculia, I can’t tell if I’ve been overcharged or not. But the total has been lowered, then again, I bought a lot of stuff on offer? Every order they do this to me. I’m cheesed of with them.

I went out on the balcony and took a photo of the sky towards the West, showing balconies of some the flats. Seconds later, the red bits in the clouds were masked, and it went dark, I felt certain that it was going to rain, but it hasn’t yet. I just thought you’d like to know, like.

I did a few more small trash bags up, and put them with the others in the big box, waiting to go to the rubbish chute. Then I was about to nip out to the lift lobby but stopped myself when I realised that the Morrison delivery driver may press the intercom at any time. Not that they have ever come on time, not for the last three deliveries anyway. With my luck, if I had gone out, they would have come at that time. Of course, they didn’t arrive again until after the given hour with the slot. So, I still don’t know if the workers have blocked the exit or not yet. This might prove a problem when the goods do arrive. Assuming they will get here eventually.

I see that ‘Grammarly’ have started doing automatic Spelling and Grammar checks now. I like it!

10:15hrs: The Morrison order has not arrived. It states clearly on the email, 09:00 > 10:00 hrs! Last delivery I had from them, I rang the company, and a recorded message told me… “You can rest assured that if we are delayed for any reason, you will be informed and told a new ETA” Rollocs! That one arrived 2½hrs late, and I didn’t hear anything from Morrisons!

Now, here I am stupid enough to give them another order! What an Eizel, Luftmensh, I am!

Found the latest Coronavirus figures for Nottingham.

There I was, waiting patiently, and keeping up a semi-spirited outlook on things, despite Morrisons best efforts to get me all hot and bothered with their stupid substitutions on the way. And my £889, Nokia 8.3 5G, with 171.9 x 78.56 x 8.99mm, 220g Side fingerprint scanner, and Google Assistant button, Punch hole camera, LCD 21:9, 60Hz, and 6.81-inch display, rang. Chortle! Giggle!

It was the omnipresent Obergruppenführeress, ILC, Warden, and Pole Dancer, Deana. Inquiring if I had a Morrison order coming today, (The heart sank). Apparently, my super-big order, the one with the unwanted substitutions I wanted to return; Had been delivered to Winchester Court, not Woodthorpe! Flibblegonkackles Glibblebonks! Globdanglesods! Spurgledamnations! and Hogglebogwash!

Perhaps the signs are not large enough at five-storeys high and ten-foot wide? I’ll ask Nottingham City Homes Generalfeldmarschalless Housing Patch Manager/ Catwalk Model, Angela Gould if we change the signs with added flashing lights in heliotrope and silver, and an arrow with Morrison in it, on the rooftops of each Court? Fernacklcumps!

Deana said she would bring the shopping to me. Bless Her ♥ Deana and Sturmscharführeress Catwalk Model, Warden Julie soon arrived at the flat with the belated, much-travelled Morrison order for me. Bless their cotton socks! ♥.They even brought them inside for me. I thanked them graciously, and off back to work they poddled.

The unwanted and overpaid for substituted foodstuffs, I thought Jenny’s friends who she helps could use. So I put the other stuff away, and made a carrier with the strawberry trifles, Curry flavoured pot noodles, a can of Posh Perry for Nora some other bits in it, and called to explain why I was coming down to ring on her bell. We had a good chinwag, which is always nice.

I got the box full of bags taken with me and visited the waste-chute on the way. Then down in an elevator to Jenny’s level, and put the bag outside her door, rang her bell, and had a problem turning the trolley around, and bashed my ankle-ulcer on the wheel arch, that steadied me up a bit! Jenny appeared at the door, had a look at the goods and declared they could all be made us of for someone worse off than us. That’s Jenny! ♥

Getting a lift back u[p was a smidge farcical. I ended up going down, ended up on the ground floor. But the bonus was meeting a tenants daughter and Francis and having a little natter. (Silver Lining!)

I eventually got back up to the flat and was feeling a little drained. And got on with prepping a meal. I used a can of Chilli-Con-Carne and added some gravy, Balsamic vinegar, mild chilli seasoning. Chopped some tomatoes, (A little cut) to it as well. I tried a taste, I feared it may be a tad too hot for my liking, should have left off adding the chilli powder, methinks.

On a low heat, and updated this blog, in between going to stir the fodder in the saucepan.

I put the waste from the cooking, into a little bag, and started to fill the box again.

Well tired now, I’d been up for about 13 hours or so. I concentrated on getting the meal right from then on. Turned off the computer, I can catch up on things later or in the morning. At least Anne Gyna was easing off nicely. (Thanks, Anne!) Not BPB, though, I think I may have to see the quack about her. But she started after the tumble on the wet-room, so might ease off later on. (And pigs might fly!)

I had a little review of today, Whoopsiedangleplop-wise for a moment or two… Up until the Morrison disaster, things were going well, apart from BPB giving me permanent, persistent pain, of course.

I got the Irish soda bread out. A messy crumbly feast to eat. Hahaha! Not a delicate or dainty taste, of a mealy texture, but tasty, and highly suitable for soaking up the Chilli gravy. A first-class, nonpareil, supreme loaf and depositor of crumbs on the recliner, carpet, and in my stomach folds!

I ate half of the small sliced loaf of bread with the chilli-con-carne. It was at my limit for hotness, but this didn’t stop me enjoying it, and granting a flavour-rating of 8.5/10!

Undoubtedly, one of the best Chillies I’ve had so far. As you can see by how the tray looked as I took it away to soak overnight in suds and bleach in the sink.

I got stripped (the thought makes me cringe) and settled in the c1968 recliner, in search of sleep. I’d hoped putting on the TV would have a somniferous effect, but no! The thought-storms in my hypnagogia began, and the debitage of my life, the failures, the mistakes, guilt and fears, cascaded around in my head.

The  Egads, there was a mangled, menagerie of mentalese memories in there. That I could well have done without remembering!

Inchcock Today – Monday 23rd November 2020: Ailments BPB and AG in attendance. Humph!

TFZer Movie-Maker and Stars?

But only mine – the failing neurotransmitters to blame! Haha!

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Monday 23rd November 2020

Croatian: Ponedjeljak, 23 Studenog 2020

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…

Inchcocksi – Sunday 22nd November 2020: Ailments in a bad mood, and I did a lot of wittering

TFZers, but where are they?

Sunday 22nd November 2020

Greek: Κυριακή 22 Νοεμβρίου 2020

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Last night, try as I did, and I did, but I couldn’t get to sleep. So I got up, finished and posted off the blog. Nodded-off again! Yee-Haa!

02:45hrs: I woke (three-often-interrupted-for-wee-wees hours) in need of a wee-wee, but not urgently. I sensed and felt around the ailments, wriggled a bit and tested the legs, arms, wrists, ankles and torso, to try and self-diagnose, the little blighter’s veracity this morning.

I soon discovered that DD (Duodenal Donald) and SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley), (later on joined by Anne Gyna – badly), yesterdays agonies that were given to me, were both top-of-the-heap again, pain-wise.

But the search for a silver-lining revealed that Arthur Itis,  Reflux Roger, Cartilidge Cathy, Shaking Shaun and Saccades-Sandra and others, were seemingly in am empathetic mood with me! Bless ’em! So, as I tackled the mountainous task of heaving my crassulent, flabby, boing-boinging-stomached body from the clutches of the c1968 recliner, I adopted a kind-off; Hey-Ho!, attitude?

Having gone through the After-Stroke teams recommended balance-catching routine, the hobble to the wet room, was a struggle, but not for the usual reasons.  No straight loss of balance, no Dizzy Dennis, nor Arthur Itis problems! Just a difficulty with the misjudging of distances to my right-side. Had there been a CCTV in the flat, it would have reminded any viewer of Freddie Frinton and the Ministry of Funny walks! Hehehe! But, there was no going into anything or tumbles on the way to the wet room, and the need of the Porcelain Throne arose en route.

How can things with the innards change so often? I’d been sat down for a few seconds, and without any warning, the evacuation began. Ooh, argh! And all done! No mess, no bleeding at all! How so much came out in such a little time amazed me! A bit of discomfort, but no pain as such, either! A 1-1 draw, between Constipation Konrad and Diarorrea Duncan. And, one flush cleared the elephantine mass away, too!

Anne Gyna was now taking over as Primo-Pain-Profferer, as I got in the kitchenette to make a brew. Got the kettle on and took this half-decent, semi-zoomed photograph, of the morning view, from the hard to get at to clean, light and view-blocking window.

Maed a mug of Glengettie tea, and into the main room to do the Health Checks and take the medications.

Anne Gyna was continuing to give me grief! I must ask the Doctor about this on Monday, or ring 111, but they only tell you to see your Doctor, which is not going to be easy.

Got the sphygmomanometerisationing was done. The SYS was well down on yesterdays reading, at only 142! The pulse up a tad at 90, but I don’t think that’s a problem… I’ll ask Dr Google. Yep, okay! ‘Between 60 and 100 beats per minute (bpm)’

During the time since the Porcelain Throne visit, I’ve wee-wee’d eight times? Ah, well! I took the medications, with an extra Dioctyl® capsule, and Codeine 600g, but it isn’t helping ease Anne Gyna in the slightest, fed-up with this. But I reckon it did ease BPB later.

I made a start on this blog, in between several more SWSI (Sprinkly-Weak-Short-Itchy) wees.

Then went on CorelDraw, to do a few graphics for the diary-top.

Getting artwork from the web to amend, I found the latest Coronavirus figures for Nottinghamshire.

Blimey, Anne Gyna is giving me some high-quality hurtful stabbings! I had a wee-wee, and ent to make another brew, Thompsons Punjana this time. I made up some small waste bags while the kettle boiled, and put them in the box, and onto the three-wheeled walker, ready to go down with some others later on.

Back to CorelDrawing. I ended up sorting some files out that I’d got mixed up, but still haven’t got any graphics done – Humph!

The feet were humming a little, so I took a look at them. They were fluid-retentioning again, I think, and the nails getting longer than ever!

I got the ablutionalisationing done. Not too much bother, not the showering caused owt worth mentioning. Multi-dropsies and a crack on the back of the head, when I was getting back up after retrieving the shoer-gel bottle for the umpteenth time.

The dressing was a struggle, and the medicationalisationing went well enough.

Then I got the small waste bags added to and stacked them in the box on the trolley-walker guide.

As I was doing this, the landline flashed and rang. It was Brother in law, Pete. We had a good chinwag. I was updated, on how Pete’s radiation treatments for his cancer had gone.

Next week he goes back for a cat-scan again, to have a look at how things are reacting the treatment he’s had. Fingers crossed! I told him Tim and Billumski on WordPress sent there best wishes.

Cheered him up a bit, I think!

Back to the rubbish sorting. Out and along by the lift lobby to the waste room chute.

Bit of a farce getting into the room. A bigger struggle to get the bags into the tiny opening. Trapped the finger (the same one as yesterday) in the heavy metal lid.
A further kerfuffle getting the trolley out of the chute-room, trapped my ankle against the door and wheels of the guide. Well, it stops me getting bored, dunnit! Hahaha!

I took this photograph from the window near the waste-room door. Some Crows were flying about, but by the time I’d got the camera out they were long gone.

I even managed another moment to have a hullabaloo going back to the flat. A cracking well aimed for maximum pain, toe-stubbing, against the trolley!

I think I said ‘Well, fancy that!’ at the time.

I returned back to the flat and got on with doing Josie’s nosh.

I felt a little unexpectedly irritable with myself while doing the food prepping, but buggered if I know why? Got the meal delivered dead-on time again, midday! This is not the real meal delivered today, I forgot to p[picture it, and used an old one – Cheat!

Things went pear-shaped then! I had to go for another Porcelain Throne visit. So much blood came out, everything else of the visit was unimportant and forgettable. So I forgot it! I spent a good while cleaning up and medication, during which I found that both Little Inchies Fungal Lesion and Harold’s Haemorrhoids were bleeding! This actually eased the mind, at least I know why all that flood of blood escaped. Not feeling so good, now.

It made the PPs look pretty in red and white, though. Hahaha!

All calmed down now, I had a very late brekkers of the left-over cheesy potatoes with chives, sea salt, Leicester cheese and butter, from Josie’s nosh. Jolly good they tasted too!

BPB and DD were both still in attendance, and I was trying to do some graphicalisationing, but it was a hard slog with the concentration all shot.

And early head down was demanded. So I got on with making the main meal.

I added some tomatoes and peas to the Chilli-Con-Carne in the saucepan and made sure I checked it every few minutes, in between doing a Thoughts graphic for later use.

Put some part-baked rolls into the oven, and turned off Computer Katie.

Made up the evening pots of medications and put it on the ottoman, to take while eating. (Unfortunately, I failed to do so, but corrected this later when I woke up).

As you can see, I didn’t manage to eat all of the Chilli-Con-Carne meal, all as part of my self, and Doctor-imposed new diet. (Ahem!)

As I got down to watch something on TV, erm… whatever it was, Anne Gyna suddenly stopped her day-long marathon of giving me grief, it was like an Angel turning off a tap! Although Duodenal Donald and Back-Pain-Brenda were continuing with their assault, the relief at Anne Gyna retreating from the battle was almost frabjous, and appreciated!

Ah, yes, gorrit! It was an episode of Hell’s Kitchen that I wanted to watch, with Gordon… Hang on, that’s wrong… Erm,  ah, Kitchen Nightmare. The brain’s going on one of its ‘Work-to-Rule’ episodes, again.

I watched the first part, and when the adverts came on, I thought I’ll nip through and get the pots in the sink to soak, which I did. It took me that long to get up, simply put the cutlery, dish and tray in the sink, and get back, and the next part of the programme had started. And we all know how long the Freeview commercial breaks can last! Hehehe!

At the second commercial break, I remember seeing the evening medications still in the plastic pot on the ottoman – and vaguely thinking, I’ll take them now… and I fell asleep!

I woke at 23:00hrs. Hey-Ho!

Inchcockski -Tuesday 17th November 2020: A cheerless, chagrined, challengingly, changeable day.

TFZers at the Cottage ♥

Tuesday 17th November 2020

Estonian: Teisipäev, 17 November 2020

23:35hrs: I stirred back into mock-life, frit myself as I passed an involuntary eruption of flatulence and in a hurried kerfuffle, I got my mahoosive, wobbly-bellied body out of the recliner, and straight towards the wet room, in an urgent need of the Porcelain Throne. (Not catching by balance first or taking Metal Mickey with me  – but I got away with it, Phew!)

I got in the wet-room post-haste, without any falls, bags or dizzies. Whipped off the PP’s and once again the movement stopped of its own accord, seemed to get stuck, and I reached for the crossword book. But a minute or so later, it started again, eagerly! The complete evacuation was over in about a minute!

But the Dioctyl® capsules seem to be working more effectively against Constipation Konrad this time. I’d say it was a 2-0 win against Trotsky-Terence this morning. A messy affair mind, I had to clean up, and the product produced needed a refill or two from the sink, to clear things away. Hey-Ho! The most important thing at the time, was it was far-less painful, and only a few specs of Harold Haemorrhoid’s blood.

Panicky waking moments to the day, but the pleasure of the release from pain made up for it, and I was almost chuffed for once. But resisted going into a Smug-Mode yet, knowing my luck this cannot last for long. Hehehe!

After taking the photo of the tank being refilled (Not a bad job that, with the right hand as well) Go on then, into Smug-Mode. I notice that for some unknown reason, the right arm was much redder, than the rest of my body? I took this snap of it, I don’t know why.

Then, I had a wash and antisepticised the touch-areas, and off to the front room to get the Health Checks done. The Boot’s old type BP sphygmomanometer read 61 for the SYS, which was fair enough, I thought, certainly lower than the previous few days. Smug-Mode retained!

The body temperature was also okay.

I did not take the morning medications, because I found the pot with the evening tablets still in it. (Oh, things might be returning to usual here!) I’ll take the morning ones later on when the Warfarin has had time to weaken as they are digested. I can’t remember why, but some iota of memory told me to.

I went to check that I’d not left the tap running again, (I do that sometimes yer know, Humph!) and took this slightly moody but half-decentish shot of the morning view of the sky and sleeping population’s dwellings, houses, flats, apartments, alleyways. There are even two manufacturing businesses out there still trading!

 Not all of them will be kipping, the NHS staff will be risking their lives coping with the Coronavirus pandemic, delivery persons out and about. Burglars, muggers and drug-dealers, naturally! Not forgetting the uniformed Nottingham City Policemen, I should think that half of the force would be out there somewhere. But I couldn’t spot either of them. Hahahaha!

I got on with the need to get some templates made up, I was well behind with everything with all yesterday evenings interruptions. It took me about four hours to get them all finished, and I was beginning to feel a bit drained.

I think the Furesomides were working well too, I needed to have repeated wee-wees throughout the session. Altogether, they would not have filled the kettle, they were dribbling weak efforts. So, I made the first mug of Glengettie of the day and returned to the computer.

I made up a few graphics to go on the templates, and finished yesterdays blog, got it posted off, Pinterested a few snaps, and caught up with Facebooking. Went on the WordPress Reader, then I answered some comments from my cyber-friends.

I made a late breakfast, very nice too! But couldn’t eat it all.

Checked on the Google Calendar, that Morrison’s are delivering today, twixt 13:00 > 14:00 hrs. When they have arrived, if I am still got some mental and physical energy left, I must make one up for next week, if I can get a delivery slot, that is.

I stopped to get the Ablutions done. A stand-up job with it being too early to use the noisy shower. It well as smoothly as it has done for weeks. But, Gawd knows how, but I forgot to have a shave? I’ll tend to it later, Tsk!

The body was extremely ashen again, but the feet were still much less affected by the saying off, it seems, ulcers and papules?

Hello, off to the Porcelain Throne again. A repeat performance of the last one, but no bleeding this time. Good, innit?

I made another brew of tea, Thompsons Punjana this time, and tool the belated morning medications.

Around 0740hrs, a call came in on the landline—a recorded message, from a fast-talking, none-stopping female. I could make very little out of what she was saying, but I did pick-up; the word Prime, and £79 something from your account? Help!

I attempted to make an order for Iceland for next week. But had to settle for one for next Friday 20th, between 08:00 >10:00. No Chilli Con Carne, but I tried some meatballs in BBQ gravy instead.

Then, I had a look at what Morrison slots were available. Bit of luck, I got one for next Tuesday! 0900>1000hrs!

All sorted out, pleased now that no more hassle, mind you, today’s Morrison one hasn’t arrived yet, better say nowt!

I got the waste-bags made up, and got them In a box on the three-wheeler. A bit of a struggle to get it out of the door, but I coped – the scrape on the back of the hand against the door frame is nothing to a man like me. Ahem!

I went back to check on the spuds in the slow cooker, also to check I’d not left anything on that shouldn’t be, like heat or the taps) Not confident? Me? Hah! You’re right!

I got to and in the waste-room, put all the bags down the chute, came out, backwards, and to the lift. As I was awaiting the arrival of the cage, it dawned on me, I’d not banged or walked into anything, and the ailments were no bother, Zilch hassle! Very worrying!

I got down to Jenny’s floor, and there were no shoes outside the flat. So, no point in pressing the bell, so I put the carrier on the floor and back to the elevator, which soon arrived, and down to the ground floor with the recycle box atop the three-wheeler trolley walker.

This top photograph shows the view of the lift lobby as I got out of the cage!

I poddled along to the end on the corridor, see here in all it’s majesticness and splendour. It’s been so long since I’ve escaped the 12th-floor

I turned right into the main lobby, and out to temporary freedom, to get the cardboard and plastic in the green bin.

I turned around and had a lookup to the left along Chestnutnut Walk, then ahead of the car park and the gravel hill path up into Woodthorpe Grange Park.

I took a picture each turn I made, left, across and to the right, they are all on that order on the right here.

Nice to get out and do some photography after such a long time.

But I could not take too long, as the Sainsbury order delivery time hour is three hours away, and I have to get back up in case they phone up, or the intercom goes off.

The three frames all have something other in common, other than they are all of Chestnut Walk – they are all barren of any tellurians as far as I could see, a lonely, sad sight this site! Hehehe!

I swiped myself into the lobby doors, with there odd bits of stuck on notices about the works and Coronavirus, and sticking half-way open door. Struggled a bit top get the front wheel of the trolley-walker-guide over the raised grippers on the floor.

I got in and had a perusal of the notice come blackboard that was not black. A whiteboard I think, with the rub-outability function for marker pens, to see what I’d been missing.

It was advising the tenants on the lower floors the lockdown will turn into a lock-in on odd days, while they lay the new lift lobby flooring on their levels.

I bet someone will come out and tread in the setting cement again. Haha!

I meandered through and into the ground floor lift lobby. I did see the odd harassed looking worker rushing about while I waited, but no tenants anywhere whatsoever.

It’s a good social life here, you know!

I was taking this photographicalisation of the electronic notice board, and the lift cage arrived – no one in it to chat or say good morning to.

I was soon back up in the cell… I mean, flat.

I put the guide away in the corner and had a little natter with Scruffy and Katie.

My pets, don’t you know! Donated to me Scruffy from Canada and Koala Kate from Australia TFZers after I’d had the stroke. Bless them! ♥ Makes me so cared for that did, all those miles away, not surprising I love em!

Jenny rang to tell me off for leaving the treats for her, Doris, Frank or their charities as she wanted to,  at her flat door. We hat a natter which was super, but I was wary of not hearing the intercom in case the Morrison delivery arrived. But it worked out well, just as she rang off, the intercom came to life!

I met the man at the door, and he proceeded to put the goods into the box, and bag for me. Slipped him a can of Vodka and lime, and dragged the folder into the kitchen to sort them out. Well, what crap substitutions again!

It looks like they have made money out of me according to how it reads above? Swine! Gits! Basta… Never mind! I got some terrible substitutes. Gin & lemon – I got Gin & tonic, Red Potatoe battered cakes, I get the McCains salt and pepper chips again, which are crap-tasteless! Shaving foam, Chilli con Carne subs.

But the daftest thing was my own fault. I really thought I had ordered a pack of six salt & black pepper rolls, Hehehe! Each roll was like a small loaf! I thought Jenny would be able to use them for someone, so I rang her and took them down to her flat.

Then got the stuff put away.

Peed off now at me, that is the third time I’m tried to order the

Battered sweet red potatoes from Morrisons this year, and every time they have subbed the totally not red potatoes, not battered either, shit McCains salt and black pepper pathetic crap… crap… crap!

Still, it doesn’t bother me too much. Huh!

I finished hoarding the unwanted goods, swearing and name-calling verbally at Morrisons, last week it was Sainsbury’s. Globranglings!

I had no choice other than to throw the shit-chips away or eat them, so I abandoned my plans for a CCC (Chilli-Con-Carne) and got the sickening tasting, soggy, bland, crap, rubbish unwanted McCains chips, substituted for Sweet Potato cakes in batter, in the oven.

While they were cooking, I took these three zoomed-in pictures from the unwanted, unlike, light and view-blocking new kitchen.

The top one should have shown you a Christmas tree-lights. But, in my usual Cock-it-up fashion, it came out all horrible and unclear. (I’m good at taking photographs like this. Hehe!)

I burnt a finger-knuckle getting the Morrison’s sickeningly imitation, pretend, substitute for Sweet potatoes in the batter. And got the sordid, bland, gunk of kak, chips, I wouldn’t have anything else with them, knowing they would only taint anything else on the plate with their disgusting sweet sickly flavour.

I got some of the Milk Roll loaf bread, (Oh, a thank you to Morrisons for having some Milk Roll in stock, and not substituting with nail polish, or firelighters, nice one, cheers!) and I put a drop of BBQ sauce in the dish, to try and mask the taste of the chips a bit. But that was a Morrison own-label brand sauce, that made things worse!

The garbage-chips looked as bad as they tasted. Very grim! No flavour rating is given unless something like ‘Flavour Rating: Minus 10’ would be grammatically correct? I only ate a few of them, gooey chips, flavourless apart from the black pepper, the sauce was probably made from bleach and drain cleaner, and I went into a nasty, wanting revenge mood!

When I’d got the cleaning up and the ablutions all done, (although no shave again?) I got down to watch the TV, but I knew I would not need this medium tonight for flaking-out into the arms of Sweet Morpheus, I was drained, the eyelids were drooping. I needed something to satisfy my unhealthy morbidity, frustrations with nothing going right, and temporarily bring some good thoughts into my grey-cell box.

  I did imagine I was a Mafia-boss and was making plans of attacking Morrisons and Sainsburys, to get revenge for the way they have treated me this past two weeks. But guilt, and certainty that I was losing-it, stopped my progress, and Morpheus arrived to enfold me in sweet peace. 

I woke an hour or so later, and was sure I heard music? But I didn’t even bother to do my usual hunt around when I’m woken by these unknown clatters or bangs, for fear of something had fallen, or leaked, or whatever, to cause the sound. I was not interested. 

But, could I get back to sleep? No! Soddit! Grumbleackers!