Tag: Sleep deprivation

Inchcockski – Saturday 9th May 2020: A sanity-testing day, I think I failed!

May08

Saturday 9th May 2020

Zulu: NgoMgqibelo 9th Meyi 2020

04:40hrs: I woke up to Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, giving me a right shaking, clouting my elbow on the arm of the chair at the same time. Even the more than ample midriff was wobbling along in unison with Shirley’s beat!

Cor-blimey, it took some time before she eased off as well. No wonder I woke in such a sudden-sharp, shuddery, jolting fashion.

But, at least it woke me up properly and got the brain, alertness and awareness working together. As soon as things subsided, I foolishly got up too quickly, to get to the wet room for a wee-wee.

As I was pushing up the weight of my elephantine torso from the recliner, an extra little shudder from Shirley, had me crash back down into the chair. Hitting my nose of all things, as I twisted to put my arms out, on the edge of the seat’s arm, and missed it! Now that’s something different that I can’t remember having for years, a bleeding nose! (Although, at school, I remember getting given many of them)

I got safely and Accifauxpa-free, into the wet room, dropped the PP’s and relieved myself. Another powerful session of the BOASSA (Blasting Out-and -Suddenly-Stopping-Abruptly) mode. But it was painless, that was a treat! As I was changing the PP’s, it came apparent that the legs were even more anaemic looking than yesterday morning.

However, for a nice change, Clopidogrel Clive’s lumps and blotches seem to me, to be taking a vacation. The Thrombophlebitis and spider and venous veins, (phlebitis),  and iliac veins, had died down, too! I feared I was suffering from oneirataxia, but, no, they really were hardly showing on the skin surface at all. Arthur Itis’s knees were far less mangled looking, but he was still supplying me with plenty of hurt and pain when I walked. I think, at that the moment the more painful and handicapping, was coming from the poor feet and overgrown toenailed toes. I’m not complaining about this, but I am just a tad confused.

Not that things were getting me down at all. I possessed an outlook of a phenomenal difference to yesterday. I was singing under my breath and nattering to myself constantly. Bonkers, but contented!

By the time I got around to taking a look at the nose, it had stopped bleeding completely and was barely painful at all. Other than giving me a mild headache of sorts. Hehehe! Another possible reason for my outlook of lightness was that Little Inchies fungal lesion was not bleeding. And this to another day stuck indoors, so another risk-free, none use of the Sock-Glide with its accompanying bruising and bleeding. I hope I can remember how to use it when the lock-in and lock-down stops. I haven’t been on a bus, or to a shop for months now. Hey-ho!

Then a concerned came to mind. I have only two days of prescription medications left. Are Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, (a few doors down from Lidl) going to let me down again with the delivery, and leave me without medications for weeks again? My earlier high-spirits came crashing down, and I began to sink into the darkness again! I wasn’t really ever meant to be, life is now too complicated for me. I limped, no singing now, to the kitchen. Checked the medications, yes, just two days worth left. They may arrive today? Globdangles!

Morosely and without much interest, I made a brew of Glengettie tea and digested the medications.

I got two small black bags of rubbish to the waste chute. Hobbling is no pleasure with the toes and feet in this condition! Then got on with updating last night’s diary. It took me a long time, but I got it finished just before the Iceland delivery two-hour period was about to start.

I went on Pinterest and WordPress Reader section. Then the TFZer, and Winwood Heights Community Group Facebook pages.

Jenny called me. She knew I liked Melton Mobray pork pies and asked if I wanted her and Franks, as they don’t eat them. I thanked her kind gesture. She said she’ll pop the down later, How kind! ♥

As I was starting on today’s diary, the intercom buzzed and flashed. One’s Iceland delivery had arrived. I got them into the kitchen and unloaded them to check on any shortages or substitutions. But this time, it was a case of, ‘I don’t remember ordering all this bread?’

For there was bag after bag of cobs on the Iceland order. Panini rolls, wholemeal baps, wholemeal thins, cheesy cobs, and crispy rolls! Was I under the impression I had ordered only the Panini rolls and bread thins? And, how or why I ordered battered fish, and more chips, greasy-dripping soaked ones, that I do not even like, is beyond me!

I imagine that I must have had a blank-spell while I was ordering them? Not that I would have been aware of it at the time. Tsk! Life is becoming a bigger challenge all the time!

I made a start on this blog. And after an hour or so, the doorbells chimed out the Dusty Springfield ♫ I only want to be with you ♫, tune. I fumbled to get some trousers and a shirt on. My heart and hopes raised to a ridiculously high level; I’d somehow convinced myself, that it would be the Prescriptions being delivered from Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, (a few doors down from Lidl), and warmth and satisfaction grew as I hobbled to the front door.

Nope! It was Josie; she had at last seen the bag of food left outside her door for her yesterday and didn’t know anything about it. She thought I’d left it for her. Bless her. I’m not the only one that gets blank spells. I explained what it was, but the gal had no idea what I was talking about, and ended up more confused, I think. I’ll have a word or two and put her mind at rest tomorrow.

But at the moment, I had to live with the disappointment of the ringing door, not being from Carrington Pharmacy, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, (a few doors down from Lidl). I seem to be finding myself in highs and lows today.

It’s already afternoon here. The weariness is already dawning on me. Surely I cannot be asking too much for the prescriptions from Carrington Pharmacy, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, (a few doors down from Lidl) not to be late, yet again?

I went on Facebook again. I’m not up to concentrating on graphicalising, in my current black mood over the uncertainty of the prescriptions.

The doorbells chimed out again. I fumbled to get some trousers and a shirt on again. Got to the door, knocking over a pot of birdseed en route when I had a wobbly, that spilt out all over the floor! Someone had left me packets of Melton Pies and sausage rolls (Which I dare not eat) on the floor. So, I put the pork pies in the fridge with the others, I’ll never eat them all before the sell-by date, but it was a lovely thought from someone. Then I had to clean up the birdseed in the hallway.

It took me over two hours to clean up the birdseed. Made a right bigger mess, as I could not step over the grain ones, and crushed some. Having to start over again. No good hoovering, I tried. So, I had to use brush and dustpan; but kept getting interference from Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, Suddering Shirley and Shaking Shaun. I was dropping stuff as much as what I got to the bin!

I nearly called Jenny for some tips on using the Vanish Gold carpet cleaner. But when I eventually found the spray, the instructions seemed clear enough. So I gave it a go in the hall.

I backed my way along the hallway, spraying with foam, rubbing it in. I ended up stuck in the front room for two hours while it worked its magic. Then I have to hoover up.

I went of the updating of the diary. Every bone and joint hurting now, and Anne Gyna has started to kick-off. All this, because some kind person dropped of the pies for me. Hehehe! I’m seating like the devil now, too. But, can’t get out to have a wash until I’ve done the hoovering. Oh, I do hope it comes out alright.

Pictorial Tale of frustrating farce, so far:

Terrible job emptying the box...

On a proper downer now. Stuck in the front room for two hours, while the carpeting dries. Fingers crossed! Put the vacuum on charging. It was getting a little warm, so I decided to open the balcony door.

Pickled-Walnuts and Clogumbobskitit! I could not unlock the balcony door! All that hassle to get it to lock on Friday, and now, more hassle to get it to open on Saturday night! I gave up in the end and just prayed there is not a fire, and I need to escape the flames and fumes.

I’m hoping it’ll be my own fault and I’ve just forgotten about how to operate the mechanism. Not that anyone can come to look at it for me (Lock-down etc.)

I got some nosh sorted out, and with being all uptight and bothered, I forgot to take a snap of it. I ate it all anyway. Albeit with a little unenthusiasm, and depressionalistic thoughts.

I was too uptight and wound-up for sleep to come to me. The Thought-Storms went on the rampage in the grey-cells. I kept the TV on and was temporarily glad I did when I found that the Red Dwarf film was showing.

It’d been on last month, I recalled the disappointment of my falling asleep then watching it, and missing the end. There is no doubt, finding out about, and staying up so late to watch it, had improved my emotionally cluttered state of mind.

I perked-up a tad and went to make up another bottle of spring water and orange cordial. To guzzle, hopefully, while I was watching the film.

Heartbreakingly, I nodded-off again during aa set of commercials. And woke up as the theme tune played and the credits were rolling! Humph!

I was back in the blackness. I wondered if I will ever manage to see this film throughout? My enthusiasm for life drained. Take today;

  • The Accifauxpa getting up.
  • Let down again by Carrington Pharmacy, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, (a few doors down from Lidl)! 
  • Now out of medications again!
  • The legs indicating that maybe I had died. (So pale)
  • The masses of bread I’d apparently ordered!
  • The balcony door lock, either broken or beyond my capabilities to operate!
  • Falling asleep during the Red Dwarf film again!
  • The depressive Whoopsiedangleplop with the birdseed and the resulting mess and crippling, pain-giving job of cleaning it all up.
  • My mental and physical fall into the blackness of depression.
  • Memory lapses and blanks.
  • Sinking into the darkness.

I was a little worried and concerned about the medication shortage – Not too much though – But I was feeling defeated and rather low – From somewhere, determination did grow, and I miraculously started singing, I’ll give life another go! Hahaha!

Belatedly, I went to do the washing up. Billy Fury’s ‘Cross my heart’ was being sung, well, silently mouthed.

No doubt about it, I was in a strange state of mind. A mixture of unbelievability, yet acceptance of my bad luck, and ailing health, wanting to give up altogether, and yet, being determined not to surrender to the blackness.

A most suitable view from the window was on view. In a way, I read of my state of mind in the sky. The ferocity of frustration. The dark depressive clouds. The loneliness. The hopes of light at the end of the tunnel. And the beauty of life! (Pull yourself together, Inchy!)

With some twisted illogical hopes, semi-logicality was restored, I returned to the recliner. And was with Sweet Morpheus within minutes, free of frustrations, worries and calm, for a few hours.

Highly acceptable!

Good morning, each.

Inchcockski – Fri 8 May 2020: VE day photographicalisations, Whoopsies & Accifauxpas. Tsk!

Friday 8th May 2020

Serbian: Петак, 8. маја 2020

01:40hrs this morning, I got finally got my head down. Helped by sheer mental-fatigue, earlier sleep deprivations, extra Codeine 30g having been taken, and the wee-weeing incidents slowing down.

06:00hrs: I woke, to my EQ warning me; “Just get on with it, bear the brunt of what is coming?”

The lightness of the late morning made me a little confused for a few seconds. Then the brain engaged gear and joined in with cringingly flobby and oversized-stomached torso, in activationalisationing.

As I tackled getting the lumbering body mass from the £300, second-hand, c1968, broken mechanically, rinky-dinked, démodé, rickety recliner, caught my balance and grabbed the four-pronged walking stick, the need for another wee-wee came to the fore. Off to the EGPB (Emergency Grey Plastic Bucket) for am HLSB (Hosepipe-like-short-blasting) type, wee-wee. Knocking some stuff off of the corner stand en route to the kitchen. Tsk!

Made a mash of Thompsons Punjana tea. Took the medications. Olive oiled the ear-holes and found I was not looking forward to the Party in the Pod.

Feeling a smidge melancholic, I suppose. I cannot physically move an easy chair and or table into the balcony. Can’t decorate the pod, I can’t even open the bloody windows! Such are the ailments, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters dying, RAI (Rheumatoid Arthur Itis, Dizzy Dennis, Saccades Sandra, Shaking Shaun, Roger Reflux, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley etc. are all going to prevent me enjoying and taking part in the so-called party. The Residents Group, are kindly going supply some nibbles for the picnic in the pod. Deafness will prevent me from hearing the music they are going to play from the rooftop, and join in. It makes one feel more isolated when you can’t physically join in things. As I mentioned, I can’t even open the new, unwanted, disliked balcony windows this morning. Nicodemus ensured that.

But, others are in the same boat. And this realisation soon brought me out of my appalling, momentary, self-pitying-mode. Bad innit, when you get feeling like this! Glad I shook myself out of it, and took some photos, some through the glass of balcony, others from the kitchen window.

Best I could do
To the left of the pod
Gravel path up to Woodthorpe Grange Park
Towards Sherwood
Zoomed in Patriots decorations

On the computer and started this post off (In between wee-wees, Tsk!).

Put the computer in sleep mode, and off to get the ablutions done.

But had a change of plans for some unknown reason, I got the handwashing done, wrung, and hung, while I sang a song! Hehehe! (Tower of Strength, Frankie Vaughan)

Off to the wet room, and noticed how full the waste bin was getting. Another diversion! I took the bag and container into the kitchen to clean, and sorted out four small black bags of rubbish, and loaded them in the trolley-walker, and took them to the waste chute. Back to the flat, with the toes worse than ever making hobbling uncomfortable. (I mention this, cause I don’t want you to worry about me being contented, free-of-pain, or even slightly happy! Hahaha!)

I was not of excuses to avoid getting the ablutions tended to, (Har-har!) It was, I think, the thought of having to clean and medicate Little Inchies fungal lesion that was making me delay the procedure. (Gawd, it’s a painful daily task! [Coward?]). Another wee-wee first, then I got the teggies done.

I did manage a decently deep cut under the chin, shaving, though. Then under the shower, using the freebie shower gel pot, and the last of the carbolic soap. (Will I ever find any again? Sob!) Olive-oiled the ears again. Applied the Germoloid, and Germolene creams. Rubbed in the pain gel on the knees and arms.

The dropsies were not too bad this morning. Toilet roll, Toothbrush, razor (2), shower gel pot, carbolic soap, the Jenny ♥ supplied picker-upperer, and the Germoloid tube. Then, with no more reasons I could think of to avoid it, I tackled the fungal lesion medicating. “Argh!” comes to mind as the best descriptive word to describe the experience. But at least it was done, I hoped and prayed that the lesion does not start bleeding again and give me break. Tsk!

As I was spraying and freshening up the torso, with body spray, Dettol, after-shave and clothes freshener, te need for the Porcelain Throne arrived. A much more manageable, if massive, session, this time. Although for an unknown reason, it left me so sore. I cleaned the tender rear area and reapplied some Germoloid cream once more, (Thank heavens Jenny was able to get me some Germoloid on her order last week, thanks, Jen!). And, off to take a Codeine with a mug of tea.

The ‘Hum’ had now got as loud as yesterday’s was, and that was rambunctiously so! It was getting to me, so what any poor devil with decent hearing was going through, I don’t know.

I had a go on CorelDraw to try to make some graphics before the picnic-pack arrived, for the People in the pod celebrations on the balcony start.

Sister Jane rang, bless her. Told me to watch BBC1 again. I was waiting to get the picnic-in-the pod. I went onto making a silly ode about Coronavirus and the lock-down easing. Got it finished and published. It’s not of my betterer ones, but still. Such a shame.

The doorbells chimed, twas a very kind young lady delivering the Picnic-in-the-pod nibbles, bless her. Some Melton mini-pork pies in there! Perfect timing. I consumed a mini-pie and took one with me out on the balcony with a cup of tea. Not an easy job with the walking stick. It took me three trips.

I took some photographs from inside the balcony (Pod).

Bottom field
Through the end glass of the pod, I couldn't get the window to open

The end windows were too tricky for me to open. I recall slicing my finger the first time I tried when the lethal metal spring clip that needs pulling and pushing at the same time. The blood flowed! I managed to open two of the front windows, though.

I also waved to a few people, but no one responded. So, I drank the tea, put the cup in the washing up bowl, and returned to the balcony, even more, determined to get someone to wave back to me! Of course, no one did, not that I saw, anyway. Got the camera again.

Hand-jiving couple of Chestnut Walk. Loved watching them
Hand-jiving couple of Chestnut Walk. Loved watching them
Hand-jiving couple of Chestnut Walk. Loved watching them
Hand-jiving couple of Chestnut Walk. Loved watching them
Chestnut Walk
Chestnut Walk

I took a couple of zoomed-in shots of the flags on Elmswood Gardens.

I saw how bad the first photo was of the top of the hill, so I took another one. It seems that Winwood Heights was being photographed by a lot of people today.

I could not see who they were below, or who was in the pods, but I put my best grin on and waved away. No acknowledgements or return waves received.

So, I stuck to photographicalisationing a few more efforts. I noted that we had attracted the Constabulary. I’d love to know who the lady was in the period gown, HRH? ♥

Hello, are two more Police Ossifers with long shadows, going along Chestnut Walk, now! I wonder if they were checking on social-distancing, drug-dealing, or just after some freebie-nibbles? Hahaha!

I decided I’d been photographed enough, ignored, and needed a wee-wee. So, of I trotted to the wet room.

On returning to the balcony, I took the last snap of some folks down below, I think it might have been relatives of tenants, knowing we’d (well some of us) be in out pods, who’d come to visit from a sage, or even, safe, distance?

I attempted to close the windows. Hahaha! What a farce! I tried all sorts to get the panes to go back where I moved them from. I got a little frustrated with myself. I boldly applied extra pressure and raised the glass at the same time, and they closed? I’m really sure what I did, but it worked. It would be nice to know how I did it.

Then I thought I heard some banging, and thought it might not be Herbert, but someone at the door, so I went to investigate…

The door handle and fittings that were already loose, just fell off! Now, this was bad, but it had a good side to it!

With just going on the balcony earlier, I came the missing box of screwdrivers. Safely ensconced in the three-wheeled-walker! Good job, too, or it would have meant my disturbing someone to get help. I managed to get the mechanism back inside the slot and tighten things up. Smug Mode-Engaged!

Blimus, it’s late! Got the nosh on the go. I got the superb, kindly donated Melton Mowbray pork pies, silverskin onions and terrible, bitter-tangy, sour tomatoes on the plate. Then, got the superb-tasting ‘Naturally Imperfect’ chips in the oven, and readied some Petit Pois in a pot for later cooking.

I got my meal served up, on the tray. Rather a lot this time, but I felt I could manage it all, especially with not having any dinner the day before.

I had to nip to the wet room for a wee-wee and found that Little Inchies fungal lesion had been bleeding again. This cost me the meal going cold, and the usual agony, and some arghing. Hehehe! I got things cleaned up, changed PPs, washed and back to the semi-warm meal.

Got the fodder to the recliner, and found that the balcony doors clicked open of their own accord? Baffled as to why; I investigated. The catch was not snapping in, and I had a hell of a job, fiddling and guessing which position the lock button should be in, and trying to work out how. By pure chance came to the rescue, and I got it locked at last. It didn’t do me much confidence-wise when I realised I had three keys, all different?

The food was stone cold by the time I got down in the c1968, second-hand, £300 rickety, none-working recliner, to eat. Then, I realised I could not find the TV remote control! 

I had the most extended search in history to find the controller, but no luck whatsoever!

What should’ve been a super-nosh, ended up being picked at, and only got a 4/10 for a taste-rating! It looked so delicious as well. All those wonderful chips wasted. The gorgeous petit pois, too. The only things that were not spoilt by being cold were the Morrocan tomatoes, but they were really foul-tasting, bitter and almost juiceless. Grumblebotherations!

I put the things in the washing-up bowl to soak and conducted planned search for the TV remote. All rooms checked, no success! I settled down, resigned to having no TV to help me fall asleep! Bad, that! Yet, within minutes, despite the Thought Storming, I nodded off. Yeehaa!

I woke up minutes later, to the sound of something thudding? I struggled out of the recliner, grabbed the stick, and went on a look around, to find what might have caused the noise. I found a lot of books on the bookcase had fallen over. Indeed this would not have been noisy enough to wake me up? But I could see nothing else untoward anywhere.

As I was successfully failing to get back to kip, the wall-clock fell off the wall!

My Gawd; is the building about to collapse?

As I struggled up and to the clock with the stick and picker-upperer, the mini vacuum cleaner, fell out of its charging base!?!? What?

Ah, the mysterious wonders of 72, Woodthorpe Court: The Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan, ‘Let’s Piss-off Inchcock’ mission?

I settled once again, with the thought, well, dream, of getting some sleep. The late sunshine burst through the flimsy, thin curtains, lighting up the legs.

I was probably the way the pins were resting on the chair, but they looked to be getting some more meat on them? I swear, the long toenails hurt in their own right, along with the Colin Cramps attack at the time I took this shot.

When the evening sunshine dipped, I was soon in the land of nod!

At last!

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