Oh, dear, I’m wearing black diabetic socks & slippers.
Took a shot of the end car park, no mudslide.
Porcelain Throne visited.
Returned to the computer and noticed it had been raining. A mudslide had started in the end car park. The rain stopped. It only lasted for ten minutes.
Into the kitchenette to refill the bladder water bottle. No rain, but the earlier bit we had was clinging to the glass of the window. Opened the window to take this one.
I’ve got some peas, onions, and sweetcorn in the slow cooker, ready for later. Made a brew of Glengettie. Then cut up some potatoes to bake to add to the meal. Not a single cut finger. Got them in the oven
Blue skies and grey clouds.
The front car park on Citrus Walk.
The Food Fiasco…
I served up the nosh on a tray. Bread and the last pot of vegetarian lemon yoghourt, bread and some mini tomatoes on the tray with the seasoned stew of sorts. Casserole? Soup? I’d put some liquid smoke in the mix. But when I got down with my meal on the tray, I sat in front of the TV on the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966. Moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, much dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working, tormenting Harold’s Haemorroids, recliner. Put the TV on to watch a recorded Heartbeat episode.
I got deep into the programme and was consuming the stew, or whatever it’s called. I’d got through about half of what was in the dish, and just as I remembered, I had not put the potatoes in from the oven, I got the smell of burning up my nose.
A semi-panic mode gripped me, and I put down the food tray to rush into the kitchen… Luckily, what happened next was as I stood up… Gave way on me, and my knee greeted the carpet and forced me into using swearwords and curses. My mind was then concentrated on getting myself up again.
Which, using the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner, I hauled myself up into it…
Unfortunately, I caught the chair with the food on it and spilt the dish all over the tray.
I carefully got back on my feet, and now my concentration was on getting the tray cleaned up before the grey spilt through the holes at the end of the tray, out onto the floor.
This, I did. Using kitchen towels, I cleaned around, and then smelled the burning from the oven, and remembered why I was getting up in the first place.
I got the oven door open, expecting the worst, and the sliced roasted spuds were… well, cooked to perfection, just as I like them.
I added them to the dish on the tray… . I caught my hand on the oven tray while taking it out.
By the time I’d cleaned that tray and ointmentated the burn. Then, I returned to the TV room with the added potatoes. I rewound the Heartbeat episode to catch up on what I’d missed, and started eating. I’d made too many potatoes and had virtually started eating another meal. I couldn’t manage it all, but ate all of the potatoes. For some reason… , visited, and this was unexpected but great!
Even when the next calamity took place while washing the pots in the kitchen, I handled it in true High-Mode-Horis fashion, “Sod-it, Sode em all”!
Compared to the earlier responses to the mishaps, I just accepted things as being expected and anticipated. Part of my everyday life nowadays. Gawd, if only it could be conjured up when something happens untoward and I get visits from ? I dream, of course, but in a state where anything seems possible. Can he be conjured?
lost the plot again there…
Ah, yes, the ! I dropped the dish into the water in the washing-up bowl, and a few drops splashed out onto the floor.
It set the Flood Alert Alarm off!
Ejaz did a decent job today. He did the laundry, helped me clean the oven, took the waste bags to the shoot, and mopped the kitchen. Unfortunately, he used the speed mop, which left the floor sticky.
He put the night diabetic shocks on for me.
Did a full-body check on me. Reminded me about the Fire Alarm inspection tomorrow.
OLD STARMER FUN CARTOON – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – OLD ODE – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I thought I’d discovered a way of saving the photographs without CorelDraw cutting me off. I had to use the old CorelDraw; the new version, which cost nearly £400, is not letting me export or save. After 6 hours of importing photos one at a time and saving them individually, I found out that CorelDraw would not let me save anything in the old version! It kept either freezing or closing down on its own accord. I had to keep stopping for Ejaz’s call. Ejaz got the bags for me in the kitchen when the food delivery arrived. Issued the medications, put the diabetic socks on for me, and Barrier creamed the bleeding thigh. Then, it took me a long time to put the fodder away. A good job that I was up earlyish, and got the ablutions and torso-medicationings done. Eyes, ears, toothache tincture and shaved without a single cut! Smug-Mode-Utilised. Back to the computer. It closed down on me twice and froze on me three times. By the time I’d got the photos from yesterday in the WP gallery, with interruptions, I’d been at it for eight hours! After all that effort, I hope I can get them off the gallery to go in without any more cock-ups! Ah, well, here I go… Oh, dear, the second Carer call is due anytime now. I’ll see how it goes. Wish me luck? No, don’t waste your breath. Haha!
Just some of the clothing that no longer fits me. Taken in mid-clear-up. This rack was chocker-block full. At least Joe saved some for me after checking if they should fit onto my chunky, whacking great, super-duper-sized, walloping, cyclopean, elephantine body. Not many! The rail racking had even less that would fit! Two 60-litre waste bags full of unfitting clothing were packed and ready to be picked up by Carer Joe later. Joe made a funny quip after we stopped to get the laundry sorted out. I think I said about the drier?
“When Gerry looked after, in despair… His clothes racks were bare!” Hehehe!
I had three messages, well, phone calls that I’d had; One from the medics, One that I couldn’t decipher, one that I couldn’t hear from the Doctor’s surgery. This one said, “You’ve contacted the Doctor to ask for a home visit, didn’t you?” I vaguely remember Carer Joe calling them to get an appointment. He may have asked if a home visit was available. I asked him to ring back later. Carer Jazz came, not Joe, so the confusion may have developed because Ejaz didn’t ask. Then, I later got a call from the matron, but I couldn’t recall what it was about.
Ejaz said I have to call Matron Jackie. That’s all on the note he left.
Back to the plot, I got a bit off-kilter there. Sorry.
Oh, I nearly forgot to put the meal photos on. Roasted some potatoes in the oven. Mixed then in the ready meal.
Got them into the oven. Just out of the microwave. A darned decent tasty flavour!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I stirred back into the offendedness of life’s miserable existence. I was worried. About the CorelDraw farce, the computer blue screen of death comes up. The bank balance received by text has never been lower since 1980!
I’m confused by all the medical messages I’m getting and blown away by how many helpers suddenly come in. It baffles me when someone mentions something from a few days ago, and I cannot determine its concerns. I vaguely get partial memories come back, but they make things worse and worry me all the more. I’m waffling again, aren’t I? I’m well-versed and pretty good at that!
I was in the wet room by about 05:15hrs.
As I stripped off, I realised I had only had one mini-seizure in an hour, and more importantly, I was not in any depression! Yet with all the extra bothers, confusion and misleading medical mayhem, I had good reason to be feeling down – but I wasn’t!
Only the other day, when I had a mother of Deep, I couldn’t think why.
The opposite happened this morning. I thI’veI’ve worked out why. It is when the reasons for a depression weigh heavily on me I can go into a sort of, well, ‘Sod-it, I can’t win!’ mode. Sometimes, how I feel now is the reason. Or maybe not.
I tried the tricks explained earlier to get CorelDraw to permit me to save and store things. I lost hours and hours as CorelDraw froze or crashed repeatedly. No, I’ve written that already, I think.
The shaving was back near to normal this morning. Three nicks, a dropped razor, and the aftershave Brut bottle. There were no other injuries, though. Unless you count when on leaving the wet room, I shoulder-charged the edge of the doorframe. Although that didn’t actually hurt much, it started off that did hurt a bit. She’ll have my shoulder socket ball out one of these flipping days! Hehe!
The only thing that bothered me was that had returned. I won’t complain; she has given me several days of rest. I’ve missed her roaming stabbing pains. Secretly, whenever she attacks, I try to guess where she’ll hit me next time. Areas so far that have felt her wrath: Neck, jaw, shoulders, arms, back, or, even occasionally, the upper abdomen. That’s her favourite attack route for me. Her abdominal playground is under one arm and around the other. She rarely gets me there. (Just watch how things go now that I’ve just said that!)
Ah, much better!
The part-mystery of this note has been solved. The surgery receptionist called me on the mobile, so it was not easy to hear her, but she was patient with her patients. Hehe! She made the appointment for my yearly Health Check(shown earlier), but I am not concentrating well today. Nothing new there, then. For Thurs, May 29th, a home visit! Great!
Had an early meal tonight. Salad. A sliced baked potato and tomato (Dutch), caramelised beetroot, and red onions (tasty!).With some Milk Roll sliced bread slathered with the gorgeously tasty No Butter, Butter (by Flora). The only let-down was the so-called Mature Cheddar cheese. I’ve tasted tastier newspapers! But all the rest of the dish made was up for this, somewhat.
As a warning to any UK mild, insipid cheese-lovers, it was Cathedral City Mature. If you happen to like tasteless, weak, bland, pale, uncrumbly, rubbery cheddar, this is the brand for you!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – SMUG-MODE ENGAGED
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Thinking! Thinking back, I began to hallucinate, Here, giving me a cuddle, was Auntie Kate, I guess I beginning, starting to levitate… Floating back in time, young again, lanate, Grizelda began to maxilate… Fondle, hugging me, & to mussitate, We did things considered misappropriate, Guilt? I no longer felt, nor was I novitiate, Freedom, my thoughts no longer obdurate, Physical ailments began to obfuscate, Gawd, this illusion is super-great! Am I dead? A ghost, or maybe a wraith?
Am I being given a forecast or a prophecy? Am I dead or alive? I viewed this whimsically, May I be en route to see St. Peter? I’ve paid my debts! Rent or electricity, Why do I sense that I’m feeling guilty? Is this a dream, a seizure or a Whoopsie? Griselda is still toying pleasurably with me, I no longer feel elderly, tired or weary! Under my bed is now a guzzunder, I’ve not seen one of these since 1953, What year is it? I don’t feel at all distressingly? The sky and globe have turned all yellowy… Opaque, angels, pink clouds, worryingly… St. Peter has not yet greeted me!
Am I getting sillier? I feel more cheerier! Is this an end-of-life bamboozler? Wherever I am, it feels cosier, I suppose it should, being free of Starmer? Yes, I must have died; I’ve never been happier, Oh, here’s a transparent cheerleader… Glittering eyes, big bust, much curvature, Ah, she’s just been attacked by Grizelda, Maybe because she gave me a sly twire? Heaven or Hell, I feel much toeier… No bother from Gladys Glaucoma, Arthur Itis, Shaking Shoulder or Anne Gyna, Grizelda’s back, with handcuffs and a tether… Prompting movement in the tallywhacker!
Well, I’m interested and acquiescing, A billion-long queue of souls is forming, Grizelda & me at the end, that’s galling, It’s for St. Peter’s gate, I’m assuming, For questioning and allocating… Heaven or Hell’s door selecting? Grizzly said, there’s a third door we might be using! I asked for what? This is so confusing, That’s for souls picked to be returning… The answer was more than terrifying, Sent back to earth, that’ll be intimidating! For those chosen, Starmer will be waiting, Still be cheating, lying, stealing & killing… I suddenly came out of my daydreaming, Starmer is still in power; it’s heartbreaking! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – This morning, I kept waking up at 04:00hrs. Repeated this action endless times before nodding off again into a deep sleep. I was woken up at about 07:30hrs. By Carer Ejaz. Who told me it had taken him about ten minutes to wake me up! I swiftly fell asleep again. Ejaz was concerned when I sat up and grabbed my lower belly in response to aches and pains. None were awful, but they remained for a few hours after Ejaz had gone. As Ejaz was issuing the medications, apparently, I nodded off again! I did not move from the bed during Ejaz’s visit. He removed the nocturnal catheter bag and applied Barrier cream to the leg-strapping wounds. They were much less bothersome and painful this morning. Being in bed for such a long time made the base of my sternum far more sore than it was yesterday, but the wounds looked better. Ejaz took this photo of the catheter contraption for me. I got the diabetic socks put on for me. Ejaz lost some time with having to rouse me. And I had to shoot off; I’d not moved during his visit.
When Ejaz left, I fell asleep yet again! Hence, there was little time to catch up or much photographicalisation today.
When I finally gingerly got up on my feet, my stomach ache steadily improved. But my concentration was not good at all.
I got on the computer, and the catheter pouch filled shortly after. When I went to empty it, the tube on the release valve was not there, making many messy emptyings throughout the day. I searched the flat, thinking it must have come off when Ejaz emptied it. He usually does not take it off. Sometimes, he’ll put it on. After failing to find the tube, I thought he might have pulled it off when he removed the nocturnal bag. He then put it in the kitchen rubbish bag, which has since been put down the waste chute. So, I’ll struggle on. Let’s face it, I’m good at struggling. Hehehe!
I was prepping to get today’s Ode started. But feeling better in myself now. Then… I found I’d left the damned hot water tap running again. How many times in two days? Three, I think!
A massive vagueness overcame me. It stayed visiting me until about 16:00hrs. It was in full flow when Carer Joe called around 13:15hrs. I’m unsure what we spoke about other than Joe’s plans to start sorting the clothes in the junk room tomorrow. So, maybe there will not be a blog for tomorrow, for the first time since I was in hospital in 2007. I think, but thinking is no longer a strong point for me. Hehe!
I took this snap on the left from the kitchenette window. I remembered to cause I knocked a jar of mushroom ketchup off the window ledge, and it landed on my . Not that it bothered me at all. I merely laughed it off and started singing to myself.
Then, I took another memory, prompting a snap of my beloved tree copse. I may have used the wrong photo here, or the computer posted the wrong one? Anyway, taking this snap hurt me more than the toe incident.
Then I realised that the sun covering Khagoule had fallen into the water jug on the floor.
So, I had to hang it on the shower curtain in the wet room to help it dry out. I also turned on the heater to encourage it to dry.
I visited the Porcelain Throne as well. Trotsky Terence was in control.
It was a messy job that took a long time because there was no hot water. Did I mention I’d left the hot tap running earlier?
The sun died temporarily while I was fetching water from the kettle, and walking with the walking stick was a bit risky.
I got some potatoes into the slow cooker that I forgot to tell you about earlier. 08:00hrs approximately) There are no secrets on this WordPress blog, Inchy Today!
I’m back on this blog after checking, updating and posting yesterday’s post to WordPress. Then, I started on this post.
I’ll check the potatoes. This is going to be a long job. Turn them (if ready), put them in the basin, bash them up, add no-butter butter, sea salt, Worcestershire, and Soy sauce, and then the tricky bit: grate and mix in Leicester cheese. Put the mixture in the oven and cook until the top has crispened. Prep[ping took me 35 minutes, and the washing things up after took me over half an hour.
I pray I don’t let them burn… Please!
It took me hours to get the potatoes sorted and mashed with the shredded Leicester cheese and red onions. I found evidence in the morning, blood on the fridge door that indicated a cut thumb or fingernail) I washed the pots and put the dish into the oven to crisp it up nicely. This usually takes a good half-hour. Here it is before cooking. Carer Joe arrived as I was putting it in.
Medications issued. Joe said we would start sorting out tomorrow in the junk room. He’ll take the laundry down to the washer, come back, and we can sort the clothes out. This will free up many coat hangers. Because there are so many trousers, jumpers, shirts, and coats that no longer fit me. They don’t call me Mr Blobby for no reason, you know. Haha! He should have time to nip down, get the laundry in the dryer, and dry it for once. Joe’s got it all organised beforehand, which is a great help.
The potatoes were removed from the oven and put on a tray with some bread. I added some cut tomatoes, and I settled into the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV to eat the meal. It took me a while to eat it all, but I did! Then, heaven… Zzz!
Carer Ejaz woke me up two hours later.
He removed my diabetic socks and mended the nocturnal catheter-damaged day bag. He also added a tube from another point to the current one. I checked the kitchen and bathroom and got my head down, but I forgot to put the nocturnal catheter pouch on. It’s hard to believe, I know.
So, when I was woken up by the pain from poor Little Inchie being tugged on with the weight as the pouch filled up, I had to get up to empty the pouch post-haste. Could I get back to sleep? No!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Or summat like that – – <<<>>><<<>>>
What controls one’s advertences?
Without them, you’ve mental curtains,
Which blocks your observations,
Lose your morals and convictions,
Dreams, inspirations and motivations,
You may select the wrong adorations,
Bringing on unwanted altercations,
Also, financial complications,
Getting interest rate reductions?
Do you doze off during meditations?
Do you struggle with DIY contraptions?
Why not consult enchiridions?
Do you use too many idioms?
Do you get drawn into fixations,
Understand your own contemplations?
Do you have naughty inclinations?
Do you mix with Oligarchs or patricians?
Comfortable amidst the proletarians?
How rarely do we question the criterions,
Not all criteria of verifications…
These can be classed as desideratums,
It’s vital to carry out investigations,
And done with great intentness’s,
Their objectives, ambitions, & intentions,
Find out their aim with negotiations,
Tell them it with confabulations,
Or conversations or consultations,
Don’t use the word investigations!
After scrutinisations, & observations,
Re your resulting appraisements…
No ballpark figures or approximations,
Declarations, not propositions,
Release only certitudes, positive decisions,
Analyse your ascertainments,
Then, create new recommendations,
Plainly, this is mostly theorisations…
I am not surprised I get mental altercations! <<<>>><<<>>> – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I fell asleep last night in the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. Woke up several times overnight, but far less than when I was in the hospital bed. Around 04:30hrs, I woke again and decided to get up and catch up early on the blog. The mind was willing enough, but the body sort of said to me, ‘Sod off!’ Several times. I could not get back to sleep; a few bouts of eye-drooping were the best I could achieve. I lurched from the recliner, noticing the time was 06:20 hrs. I detached the nocturnal pouch from the day bag, and plans changed when I got up and started the gentle morning balance exercises. The wind erupted from my hindquarters; long, loud, noisily, and aromatically contaminated the room. Off to the wet room, I trudged. By the time I got there and sat down on the Porcelain Throne, the agony from my toes was as painful as it had ever been! Only Anne Gyna and Little Inchies Fungal Lesion are that bad. I thought they hurt a lot when they were cut yesterday. £35 I had to pay for this torture session, too! Haha! To rub it in, I had to clean up endless toenail clippings when the Carer spotted them later on the carpet. I did not wash or shave, but did I rinse the teggies? I put it down to the pain I’d got and had all day every time I had to stand up and or walk. I unlocked the door as I exited the room so the Carer could get in later. My getting up late annoysed me. My plan to catch up on the blog was in ruins.The new four-wheeled walker attracted my attention, and I tried again to get the loose right handlebar stiffened. I failed, of course.
Carer Ejaz arrived. He made me proud this morning. He assessed the urine rating, issued medications, and then changed my catheter bag. Next, he did a full-body check for new wounds or bruises. New spots on my leg and another bruise on my back were found. He then ointmentated both ankle lesions and legs with barrier cream under the men’s breasts, arms, and in the crutch near the catheter tube. I reckon that the right Lymphorrhoea Leslie’s lower leg, which had been bleeding overnight, had dried up well enough and was reduced in size. But things with Leslie change day by day.
I went out on the balcony to take two shots. That rain we had earlier leaked onto the car park’s end. But we still need more rain here. It’s unnatural that so little rain is falling. A skyward shot next. What beautiful cloud formations we get. Always differing.
At long last, I got on the computer to update and post the Friday blog on WordPress. It took me hours, but still.
Midday Carer. He took a look at the new walker handgrips for me. I turned the gripper, and it came loose! This could bode unwell! The skies were even more interesting. The top shot was to the left of the kitchenette window. The bottom one to the right.
You wouldn’t think they were the same sky.
As the day progressed, the pain from the ingrowing toenails worsened. Walking at times required two sticks; the pain from both nails was so bad. I decided to try to get a bowl with disinfectant in the water, to wash my feet. Getting the bowl filled and into the room near the recliner was a struggle. Dettol was added, and a towel was taken in. But I could not get the diabetic socks off until the Carer arrived.
The Carer came on the last visit and timed it perfectly, and the water was still hot enough.
She removed the socks, and I got my feet in the water. After two minutes in the bowl, she fretted about being late for her next call. She dried the feet with kitchen towels and kindly applied some barrier cream to Lymphoedema Leslie’s thick, cracked skin on both ankles. Bless her. Cleaning up after was a struggle because, as usual, the toenails sting for a while after doing the feet. Getting off to sleep took me ages, and I was also tired.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Evening All!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Our intentions may well be admirable, But are they needed and desirable? If they happen to be altruistical? Are the benefits given physical or ethereal? Endurable, sustaining or apothegmatical? Will this incite the recipient to turn greedful? I don’t want to appear hyperbolical, After all, I’m fallible and infeasible, Arguing over things, possibly mental, fear of numbers, I love anything anecdotal, Still working out the meaning of biopsychosocial, Calculations and maths, to me, are cryptical, Logic, commonsense, I often find chimerical. Seizures can sometimes make me feel extrinsical, Leaving me feeling depressed and inimicable, Things I did 78 years ago are now unfathomable. I’m not a part, essential, or even integral… An unmoving nomad, innate, incognoscible, When Happy Horis visits, I get incorrigible… If Depressing Duncan returns, then I feel terrible! It’s only with me that I get argumental, Obviously, we don’t need to go all aetiological, It’s a practicality to be commonsensical, Seek for the localised idiosyncratical, Things may not become clear or irenical, No need to search for the inexplicable, Don’t spend valuable time on the impenetrable. Remember, we are not powerful or juridical… If baffled, then make yourself a foxhole. Still don’t understand? That’s fantasmagorical, Still struggling, I’ll write you another oracle! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Another busy, confusing day for the old groat! Carer ‘Joe’ did two calls, and Carer Ejaz did the other two. Phone calls from Matron and Nurse June. Nurse Helen told me to make an appointment, as requested by the Doctor, to see her. I hope to get one for on Wednesday, then Carer ‘Joe’ can accompany me. Asked him to ring surgery tomorrow afternoon if he does the afternoon call tomorrow. Made a few cock-ups again. I believe it’s the arithmaphobia that caused most of them. Ejaz took some snaps for me today of the outdoors. He noticed I’d got the micro-shakes. Bless him. Carer ‘Joe’ & Ejaz both helped me out last and this week. And with all the action from the medical front, you wouldn’t believe how appreciative I feel. Fair enough, I’m still with it enough to feel embarrassed at not being able to do things for myself. As I pointed out earlier, I believe the issue with the battery delivery and the microwave meal delivery was due to dates, times, and numbers. But were they? I think so; I experienced three waves of panic over the last two days as I misread or misunderstood the most straightforward advice and instructional details. Arithmaphobia?
I’ve been meaning to look up Ménière’s disease, the condition the nurse mentioned.
But have I done it yet? No!
To date, I have confirmed some appointments.
The four-wheeled walker is expected to arrive on Friday. Followed by a BRCCS Technician to sort it out and point out handling and safety features.
In abeyance, waiting for confirmation of the visit to the doctor next Wednesday or a later Wednesday so I can go with Carer ‘Joe’, who is aware of my actions and can explain things to me as they are.
On the 15th May. Nickie to do a walker assessment.
On the 23rd, Physio from Manuel.
Awaiting appointment for the Glaucoma lasering.
I’ve missed it on my calendar, but Nurse Caroline is coming to conduct the Pre-Morbid Cognitive Impairment assessment. Alternatively, I need to go to Nuthall Hospital to have it done. But when?
Nurse June rang, but I can’t remember what it was about. Thanks to a seizure, things did not register. At least, I think that’s why. Just photos from here on with what I can recall of them. The earlier ones hold a more explicit memory.
My morning shot before going to the wet room.
Things went okay, I think. One cut shaving Medicating was easier this morning because I only had to do about half of them, and the intercom chimed out. Naturally, I went back into the wet room and continued dressing without medicating.
Carer Ejaz arrived. He barrier-creamed the ankles, which looked a little more likely to erupt into seeping from . Ejaz took some shots from the kitchen window for me. Bluey blotches on this one? Great shot, Ejaz! Nice one. Is that smoke I see?
Blogging. It took me hours and hours, and I was still nowhere near catching up. Huh!
Mystery afternoon, and I don’t know why?
Ejaz evening call shots were taken for me.
I prepared a mixture of food and placed it in a microwavable container. Later, when I decided to add some mini-roast potatoes, there would be no room in the dish. So, while the spuds were cooking in the oven, I transferred the mix to a larger dish to use in the microwave. In the mixture went a can of vegetable curry, a ready meal of beef in black bean sauce, garden peas, water chestnuts, carrots and some extra Bisto gravy. Lip-licking luxury!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – THE HAZE/HASH OF OUR HMG! I faced adversity catastrophes, indomitably,
Searching for success, I found extinction,
Been shot, heart attack & bankruptcy,
Recognised politicians showed prevarication,
They rule unreliably and lyingly…
Take backhanders with pretension,
Reliable? Each one is a proletariat’s liability,
Growing their wealth in HMG’s pantheon!
>>>>><<<<<
Starmer lines his pockets, carefreely,
Lie, steal from pensioners, Scot-freely!
Prices are rising for food, gas & electricity,
Keir does it all so perfunctorily, blasély,
Surely, he’s an under-the-bed Tory?
His price rises show his peccability,
The voters he scoffs at dismissively,
Proletariats get poverty and penury!
>>>>><<<<<
Who voted for him, primarily plebian…
Realise now, it shouldn’t have been,
He’s mendacious, criminal, immoral & mean!
Keir’s term in office: a trial by ordalian,
Starmer got 3m votes, fewer than Corbyn,
Still enough to give him a win,
That was due to the Tory’s suiciding,
Citizens’ fears are accumulating!
>>>>><<<<<
His lies, there’s not been an investigation,
He shows no signs of any opprobrium,
A man of obfuscation and deception,
No prosecution, just mystification…
Civil Service & HMG are both crooked,
Their guilt, either hidden or resolved,
Most of what they’ve done, I anticipated,
Starmer should be sacked & becudgelled!
>>>>><<<<<
He claims to be a necessitarian,
I think that he’s Machiavellian!
Ill-conceived, ill-advised, & misbegotten,
There’s no hope, no pharma-conation,
As he strangles voters of the Nation,
I’m not saying he’s a pigwidgeon…
Nor a patrician, but a man on a mission,
To take backhanders & make commission!
>>>>><<<<<
He’s worthy of, and gets my derision,
Mayhap the Lord’s resurrection…
Along with our citizens quiritation…
Can bring about, Starmer’s retrogression,
Force him into his own rescission?
Free us of Keir, the self-rhetorician?
Give him a thorough scrutinisation,
But of course, this will not happen!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< CATCH UP Owing to my plans to get a wash and sit-down when the fatigure-fell yesterday teatime, I got nowt done on the computer again for the rest of the night. I thought I’d fall asleep and get a few hours in before the last Carer’s call, then restart doing the blog.
Instead, I had God knows how many mini-seizures but no actual sleep. Three hours later, Carer Ahmed arrived. Said I was, sitting there mumbling to myself and breathing heavily, with my eyes open. Once I got up, I felt so drained. I nearly fell back down again. But Ahmed was as quick as a flash and stopped me from plumping back into the 1966, £300, Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, catheter-tube-trapping recliner. He got my diabetic socks off my feet, issued the medications and checked the taps and oven for me. After the lad left, I went to the kitchen to make a meal. Boy, was I tired out and drained. I took these fantastic puffer cloud shots.
Minced beef with black beans. Some seasoned unskinned chips. Lovely! A cornet of ice cream afterwards. I’d made too much again. Well, not much!
But at least I didn’t spill any. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – How can one be so drained and tired but not get to sleep? Horrible night. Forever jumping awake within minutes of the odd nodding off’s that I got. I gave up and got up at 05:00hrs. Sorted the waste bins. Then the big task began. What a session. There is no other word for it. Great! A cutless shave, absences of , , , & . I’ll add because she did not kick off until later.
The medicationalising was not too bad, but no worse than of late. Until, of course, it came to the last task, ointmentating and rubbing it in poor suffering . I creamed where I could reach of the ribs & backs . Again, I could not get those on my back. I’ll ask the Carer if he can help when he arrives. At least I have a good stock of new barrier cream in the drawer. I must have taken longer than I thought on these tasks. As I got the PPS on without much of a struggle, I’d like to add, and was getting the Kagoule on, the Carer Ahmed arrived.
Ahmed was on good form this morning. Medications were issued, and my diabetic socks were fitted. He then applied barrier cream to my back and ribs, using the last of the old tubes of Derma Cream. Achmed liked doing this job and was good at it. He then sprayed the glaucoma spray on my eyes for me. I’ll call him Dr. Ahmed from now on. Hehehe! He asked for another local accent word, and I gave him ‘Kip’ for a sleep or nap. I’ve given one a day for a few days. The first was ‘Tara” for cheerio. He said he had used it with other clients this morning, and they loved it. Hearing that cheered me up. Yesterday, it was ‘Aye-Up.’ I think the other one was ‘Midduck’. No, that one’s for tomorrow.
Ahmed took a photo of me with a Kodak-Tim-1. He’d drawn the curtains, knowing how the sunlight affects Glaucoma Gladys. He thought I looked like a Mafia Boss. Haha!
I grafted away on the Ode making and got it finished. Then, I updated and posted the Sunday blog. During the morning, I took these snaps from the kitchen. The shadows from the rising sun from the back of the flats made some of them enjoyable. The painted houses. If not, I might not see them. My block of flats’ shadow in this one. Took later.
Carer “Joe” arrived. He did a grand job of helping again, bless him. He rang the surgery to see if I could get an appointment for any Wednesday, his more extended visit laundry day. 3rd on the waiting list. Got through and he tried his best, but the earliest Wednesday might be 4 weeks wait, and he wasn’t sure if the Doctor could fit it in for the times that Joe was here. Chances were getting dimmer. I suggested that perhaps she could give me a call at home. Yes, but not on a Wednesday. I ended up with her ringing on Monday the 28th between 10 & 11:45hrs. In 14 days. Going well for the NHS, innit? We had to agree; there was no other choice, had we?
Computing was going very slow today.
Carer “Joe” returned to the first evening call. Again, he helped out no end. He called the chemist and arranged for the medications to be sent to his company’s chemist for collection. I’m lost with all these changes. Thank heavens for Carer “Joe”!
It’s already 20:00hrs gone. I’ll make a meal and try to catch up in the morning.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – What did we do when info was ungoogleable?
A history homework exam, no answer. Inexcusable!
The library was closed, and Father was unhelpful!
What date was the battle for Constantinople?
Must I guess? No, the answer must be veridical,
If I fail another exam, I’m in for some ridicule,
How can I avoid risking the vituperable?
Pray to a God or something Mystical?
Miss school? Go the doctor with summat mythical?
No, that would be naughty and cynical,
Maybe give someone a phone call?
We don’t have one; how do I sort out this puzzle?
Visit my doctor, give teacher some tarradiddle,
I’m not a good liar, I’d not be believable,
Use a phone box. Yes, I’ve got a testrill…
Don’t know anyone with a phone… Testicles!
Yes, I do. I could call Auntie Carol,
Off to the GPO box, rained poured down terrible!
Ah, no phone book was available!
I resigned myself to my fate; I was threnetical,
Walked home. The rain died down to a trickle,
Dad’s gone out and locked me out. I’m in a pickle!
My thinking was in three-dimensional!
To me, the problem was not trivial,
The rain poured again, now torrential,
Knocked neighbours door, for shelter and a natter,
No answer, so I went for a soaking wet toddle…
Got in the outside toilet, passed a traditional,
Dad came back; he got a bit physical…
But dry at last, I almost felt triumphal,
Dad said, 1453. Then hit me with his belt buckle! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
05:10hrs: After a night spent more waking than sleeping. I felt surprisingly alert and relatively active, lasting approximately one minute. This was a first for me: I fell out of the hospital bed because I overreached to get at the nocturnal night bag, which, for some unknown reason (well, it was Glaucoma Gladys, really), I thought was leaking. I rushed to get it upright after it fell off the safety bar holder. I landed face down on my slippers and the waste basket, in a semicrumpled painful heap! Then, as I recovered and grasped the bed to haul my gigantic body up, the quilts lost their grip, and there I was on the floor again, covered by the outer quilt and face down this time. I stayed there for a while to get my bearings and breath back. Then, after doing some deep breathing, I set about mountaineering my way up onto the bed. Either I had a seizure or else, inconceivably, I’d got up onto the bed and was sitting there safely, in two minutes! This couldn’t be right. How did I do that so quickly, and I may add, almost painlessly to boot? Had I just dreamt these events? No, the bent waste basket was in sight. Now, put it in the waste chute. Tsk! Then the aches from the bruised arm, and I went into a clearly identified seizure, which I think lasted for five minutes or so. I needed a little longer doing nothing, which I did. Incredulously, I did not feel depressed or angry with myself. I decided to get the ablutions done ASAP and apply some Phorpain gel to the cartilages, back, and neck afterwards. It sounded logical to me. .
I got sidetracked from my plans as soon as I went to check the kitchen for running taps, open doors, or left-on stoves. They were all as they should be.
This morning, the moon was much smaller and had lost its red/orange tinge. Kodak Tim 2 was used to take these snaps of the planet. They are not as good as yesterday’s, which were not as good as the day before.
Well, these went well overall! There were just two nicks shaving. The bowl of water I used to stand in to clean the feet was not tipped over. There were no tumbles in the wet room. And I seemed to get them done quickly—but did I? I was not rushing. The medicalisationing was not so successful. Because I could not reach my back to put the ointment on the bruises, Acne or eczema on my back. I’ll ask the carer, to help when he comes. As usual, the worst medicating bit was applying and rubbing in the stinging ointment . Not that it bothered me, of course. Ahem! I got the pain gel cream on and .
Duties.
Trotsky Terence had an even greater bearing on this morning’s evacuation. Phoo! The stink almost overpowered me. Soft yet sticky and smelly. Karki coloured. Eurgh!
Another of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ailments, seizures, Glaucoma Gladys, Peripheral Neropathy, dying neurotransmitters, grotesque succubae, Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, Accifauxpas, rent increases, food price hikes, and the Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, is how I recovered so well after the two tumbles? Feeling alright again now. The bruises and back pain are bothering me, but nothing is serious.
I made myself my first mug of Glengettie tea since last Thursday. I’ve never gone three days without a brew of tea since I’ve been here! I noticed it was only 07:20 on the clock calendar, which matched the computer’s. However, how did I get everything sorted out, abluted and on the computer so quickly?
Carer Arhem arrived as I was about to hoover the hallway. (It never got done!) The lad put on my diabetic socks, issued the prescription medications, and reminded me of the vitamin B12 tablet. We chatted for a minute or two, as best we could, and then he did an Alert Alarm Battery Check with the NCC Control. We said our “Taras,” literally. I explained what it meant a week ago, and he uses it every call now. Bless him. He’s a lovely lad.
Keeps visiting for shorter periods but more often today, uo to now anyway. , and were regular, and the were more active than ever
I took this shot through the balcony doors. Then, the fatigue hit me earlier in the day than ever. It might be connected to the tumbles. I still can’t understand how I’m not in worse condition. I’m not complaining, mind you. Oh, no! I am more tired than ever. I have to just stop.
Never got back on the computer again today. I’ll try to catch up tomorrow. Not good this. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
In my morning slumber, I started musing, Back to the day when things were amusing, 1963, when sliced bread went up to a shilling, The reaction of the shoppers were chilling, They brought some; some they were stealing, A near riot, on price-rise day proceedings, Last week, the loaf cost me £1 – shocking! This week, £1.49! Not reassuring! Maybe I’ll take up shoplifting.
The monthly cost for gas & electricity… I’m back talking again of 1963, Cost 15/- the equivalent then to 75p, Last month, my payment went up to £423! Starmer’s stopped our winter fuel subsidy, Not enough cash for price rises absorbability, Proletariats, pensioners now in poverty, Rates, rents, power, costs rising steeply, Our NHS crumbles, pleasing the oligarchy.
Forcing some to turn to crime, effectively Eat or heat, food banks, charities competing, A diet of bread & water? It’s called Xerophagy, At today’s price of bread & water, it’s alarming! Families, children and the aged geriatrically, Is Starmer not aware of the voters’ suffering? Go shopping today, do it vigilantly, They’ll be muggers, pickpockets lurking, Nutters, looking to act adversarially. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Hand Washing. I’m fed up with this!
Ankles, lower legs much clearer today.
Afternoon kitchen shot., THe ankles started the electric shock going later. Carer Ahram out some cream on and leg bandage, I can take it off Wed’ when the nurse arrives.
Sorry, not much on today; it’s been a borrowing Tuesday. The prospects for Wed & Thursday are worse than today. I’m not sure of the days, but between Wed & Thursday: Nurse Caroline ♥ Is calling to do another upgraded Dementia Test. A DVT Nurse ♥ is calling for extra blood for further tests. The Warfarin INR is dangerously low at 1.6. The district nurse ♥ is calling to check on my leg lesions and the acne-eczema. The Urology Nurse ♥ is due to visit to alternate the catheter bag. I’ve got two deliveries expected between noon and 22:00 hours. Medical & food. Carer ‘Joe’ is doing the laundry. After that, I have to get the two airers out to dry the washing.
It is late Wednesday morning now. I’m not looking forward to today.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – That’s the lot concerning photos and graphics. Sorry. I was allowed to save just the first of the many pictures and graphics made and taken. I had some I could use again in the WP Gallery. All that time and effort was spent, too. I had some cracking Kodak Tim 2 snaps as well. The computer problems just have me beaten!
I gave up, deciding then not to, and tried again. I cleaned the computer yet again, all of it and put it back on again. Now, the only way to get a photo or graphic on is one at a time, and you have to rename the old image and save the new one using the same name. This cost me hours and hours, so long, I gave it up as well. If I tried to carry on getting photos on, it’d be such a long job, I’d still be doing it on Tuesday! At last, I can put some on, at least one.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – This morning, I may have wassailed,
But, in a tumble, my head was whacked,
I felt weirded and wrongheaded,
My bonce was bruised and wounded,
All a part of my life and my world,
Accifauxpas, to me, are well-founded,
To get back up, I struggled & wriggled,
The catheter leaked, so I widdled…
I laughed; at the same time, I writhed!
Falling back down on the walker…
My neck was sort of whiplashed,
I swore and cursed, but I only whispered,
The Carer arrived; he was wheritted…
Got me up, in pain & urine-wetted
I cleaned & medicated, just as I wanted,
But my confidence by now had wilted,
Anne Gyna joined in, I wearied,
I had a private stocktake, worded…
Me and my brain witwantoned…
For a solution, I waited, & waited,
Peace of mind is what I wanted…
I prayed, hoped & wittered,
Eventually, I just whimpered…
So depressed; Is this life warranted?
My prayers were so wholehearted,
I felt even more withdrawned,
The realisation of failure wrangled,
I can’t recall when I last womanised!
The last time I was pleasantly wooed,
The loins moved, and I was wowed,
Then my leg lesion wheeped…
The fate Lucifer on me has wreaked…
Satins Curse blew & wuthered!
Another seizure, the brain whirled! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I’m handwashing again. I laundered two Kaghoules and some socks, hung them in the wet room, and turned on the heater.
Bamboo socks
ABLUTIONS The teeth & gums bled. However, that shave was better, with only one tiny cut! Hoovered the hallway. I took some boxes with the sorted waste bags to the rubbish chute without bothering anyone. Medications went okay, well all apart from the fingal lesion, but I soon stopped the flow.
Carer Ahram arrived. The diabetic socks were put on, the medications were taken, and the daily catheter pouch was changed. It’s all good!
MY LONGEST-EVER SEIZURE! I think Ménière’s disease brought on this type of seizure. I stop doing things when I get this type, but I am reasonably aware of what’s happening. I just can’t get involved until things are clear. But I could be wrong. This has been known regularly daily. I should think maybe nine or ten times a day, at least, and possibly more. Alright, it’s a gusstimate! Haha!
Carer Joe came while I was out of it, but I knew he had been here. He also did the teatime call. Medications and little natter of which U could take part. I like it when that happens.
I investigated what was available for my evening or morning meal in the fridge and freezer. There was much to choose from. The fridage has never been fuller. This is due to my expert skills and ability to carry out, repeatedly; after . By way of doing food orders that I can’t even remember doing. Usually, I end up throwing food I can’t afford to away weekly. As I cleaned the microwave, I often started one job and went on to another, forgetting the original designs I had started with.
Then, I wander off to do something else. The annoying part is when I realise I’d left the hot water tap running, the window open, the fridge door open, even the oven left on – in any combination! I once did them all on the same day. The hot water tap twice! Sure enough, I wandered off and decided to open a can of water chestnuts, slice them up, and add them to three jars: one of pickled mushrooms, one of sweet and sour sauce, and one of black bean sauce. I mixed and shook the jars and put them back into the fridge. Then, I had to nip sharpishly to the . A affair. I cleaned things up.
Then, I returned to the computer to continue my Ode Creating task, which is one of my favourites!
CONTINUED... An hour or so later, I felt doubts come over me. Thinking I may have left the hot tap running, I checked the wet room and kitchen. All was good with the taps… but I’d left the fridge door open! . The fridge had spewed out water down the freezer below onto the floor. Cleaning it up, I could smell vinegar. Huh! One of the jars I’d just made up had a crack! Fancy that, I suppose I must have caused it; I recall struggling to get the mushroom and chestnut jar into the fridge. I moved it to the top shelf. I had to clean each shelf in the fridge, the inner of the door, the outer of the freezer door, and the floor! . I cannot believe today’s rate of mistakes, Whoopsies, Accifauxpa, cock-ups and sheer bad luck! I was well weary, depressed, self-condemned, and self-denigrated. Self-disparagement. Self-ridiculed. “I’m afflicted with a proclivity for self-criticism whereby every blemish is revealed in all its unredeemed ugliness.” Angry at myself too! It’s not easy mopping and hoovering with the stick, mop, bucket, and hoover, especially in my current state: back angina, Glaucoma Gladys fading, and fogging my eyesight. Which is typical for this time of day. Usually starts to fade around 17:00hrs
STILL CONTINUING... I got back to the computer. Again, the fear that I’d left something wrong in the kitchen made me investigate.
Nothing was left on or open.
However, I had still not cleaned the microwave. As I moved it to clean underneath, I found these tablets. Wonder how long they’ve been under there.
The tablets got me looking at some from the medical draw to identify them. They were clean-looking. I didn’t get around to cleaning the microwave! I must have lost similar tablets before cause this photo above was found on file, showing the worktop under the microwave. Angst and depression increased!
I am so tired and frustrated, and at this moment, I am full of pathetic self-pity and something awful!
I did not want to make anything to eat until the last Carer call. I’ll have to go at the WP reader & comments until he/she arrives.
Carer Ahmed came. Socks off, painkillers given.
I won’t attach the night catheter bag because I will cook a meal. I just hope it lets me use it in the morning. Cheers!
I got the photo to go on late Monday morning.
MONDAY MORNING: What a start that was! One for the annuls of medical history! Worth reading. You might not believe it…
But it was how it went for the first two hours.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – >>>>><<<<<
Let’s see what’s on today’s agenda…
If allowed to by my aprosexia,
First, try to avoid anoxia,
Getting worked up into dysphoria,
Ignore my graphomania,
Prepare for the hereinafter,
Get through the pain of my dyschezia!
>>>>><<<<<
A speedo or an accelerometer,
I’d call it a speedometer,
But unsafe speeding; I’m an abnegator,
I’d sooner get there later,
Not in hospital on a ventilator,
Not that this is exactly ataraxia,
The food is not exactly ambrosia!
>>>>><<<<<
I was born with things homuncular,
And misshaped things testicular,
It didn’t bother me particular,
It did later, howsomdever,
Girls interested in my hylomania,
They drove me into habromania,
Now I use a haemacytometer!
>>>>><<<<<
Soon, henceforth-in future,
As I get more ancienter,
I meet more with the Grim Reaper,
Not like the expected harbinger,
He’s no shyster, or defrauder,
Just a long-dead, soul collector,
Trying to make your death pleasanter!
>>>>><<<<<
I take-not in anything jentacular,
Porridge, cornflakes, grits, Ergh!
I was told not to by a medical advisor,
He was found to be a drug-abuser,
He became the prison beekeeper…
I don’t understand either!
>>>>><<<<< – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – WEDNESDAY, 2nd APRIL 2025 I had even fewer jumping awakes last night. Thought Storming Steve was the culprit for the majority of these almost nightmarish events. Although the tormenting, mocking, blame-apportioning flood of self-abuses and guilty past actions were vivid in my mind each time I was woken up, they faded swiftly, in time for me to regain my state of slumber. TSS started over with, I think, different bits of guilt-giving and blame over my past errors & bad choices.
After sorting the waste bags and getting the night catheter removed and classified as a ‘5’ on the NHS scale, I went through the same things I had yesterday when preparing for the Audio Clinic lift, which I’m sure will come today. Ablutions and medicationalisings are done. I was on the computer when the Caregiver arrived. He issued the prescription medications. I had to ask him for Peptac, and Ahram used some Porpain Gel on the right catheter, which had given way on me while Ahram was here. He got the socks on for me and asked me if I needed the shoes on, which I did. A good job that he remembered!
The computer allowed me to save the top two graphics and nothing else.
I checked the bag I was taking with myself; everything seemed to be there. Then, I visited the Porcelain Throne and checked the contents of the three-wheeled walker again. I will have to add my reading glasses.
I got readied and entered the ground floor foyer with the three-wheeled walker. I met my friend Jenny’s other half there and chatted about old age. We found we had many similar annoying age-related problems. Haha!
A little late, but not a lot—merely a few minutes—the EasyLink minibus arrived with no trousers on to make access to the catheter bag easy. As I went through the door, the wind blasted up my privates something awful. Hehehe! An accident had delayed the lad. He got me up the lift and settled in, but I only had my last tenner to pay him, and he had no change. So, he told me to pay for both journeys when I got picked up at 13:00 hrs. We had to go to West Bridgford and were taken to the same place. The traffic was delayed due to road works in West Bridgford. I went inside the waiting room and waited. But once I registered, I was summoned in a short while. I went to the treatment room with a pretty young Asian girl who could not easily understand my Nottingham accent. She got both hearing aids working again within ten minutes or so. She changed the tubing on them, and now it sounds like everyone is shouting at me. Har-Har!
I’d got an hour before the pick-up time. Luckily, I’d taken the crossword book and a pen with me. I snuggled into a chair and fell asleep! At one point, I mentioned my many nodding offs to a receptionist if she had seen anyone with an EasyLift uniform on. She hadn’t. But I dare not sit down again. I saw the sunshine through the door windows and decided it would be safer and less chance of missing the lift if I went outside to wait for EasyLift. I’d only got twenty minutes or so to wait. The bus arrived after 40 minutes of wind blowing anywhere and everywhere it could, and the catheter was filling up later.
There was another accident in the City Centre, and buses were rerouted.
The driveress did a grand job of getting me back to the flats. I was a little worried because Carer Joe said earlier that he would call at 0130hrs when I should be back by then.
After parking, paying the bill and getting off the bus, Joe approached us. Very understanding, he half-expected us to be late with the news about the accidents and road works on the news.
He took the laundry down and put it in the washer. He then returned to the flat and checked an email I was dubious of. Joe started sorting out the junk room one. He got a lot done in half an hour. He went down to collect the laundry from the dryer, pointing out that he’d have to bring it up part-wet because he’d done his time. I asked him to leave it and that I’d fetch it later. “Don’t Forget To!” he said. With the hearing aids now working, I heard him.
Amazingly, I remembered to. The sad part is that not one was allowed to go on file of all the photos I took in the laundry room. There is definitely Something WrongHere!
I pressed on with the day’s blog.
Then, I hand-washed a Khagoule and hung it to drip dry from a coathanger in the wet room. But I made the mistake of forgetting I’d put the heater on to help it dry. I did, but that was hours later and a few quid less in my pocket! Humph! Thanks to Starmer stopping we pensioners’ fuel allowance and allowing power charges to go up by 40% since he cheated and lied his way into office!
Suddenly, it was almost time for Joe to make his teatime call. I was getting hungry now. But I’ll wait until the chap calls. I think I’ll have a microwave meal and some bread to fill me up. Or maybe choose the much-loved potato cakes and a vegetable pastie.
I doubt I can use the photo, but I’ll try again tonight with the potato cakes and vegetable pasty.
Back in the morning, I hope.
Back with the bad news of the potato cakes and vegetable pasty feast… Depressed, sick & tired of bothering to do anything, but why, you ask (I hope), I’ll tell and show you…
I put the feast in the oven to cook for 25 minutes and returned to shut down the computer, which promptly seized up on me and granted me a blue screen of death! It took me a lot of time, over three hours, to toy with the unknown and risk getting it back running. I do not know what I was doing, but it worked after I rebooted. I had to sign into everything again and check on CorelDraw to find that most photos had magically disappeared again! Anny Gyna gave me her first nasty attack of the day… and as I was searching for the mended hearing aids to put in…
I became aware of the burning and a little smoke entering the room. The food had dried hard & mega-crispy.
When I squeezed one of the potato cakes, it turned into a little stack of black crumbs!
Very disappointed with myself. My self-lambasting and lousy language flowed. I wanted to spit!
I got a Sweet & Sour ready meal from the freezer and microwaved it. I ate it with some slices of Milk Roll Bread and dunked it in the sauce. Which were the highlights of the meal.
