Tuesday 9th June 2020
Afrikaans: Dinsdag 9 Junie 2020
01:45hrs: I came back to imitation life, and my mind filled with the memories of last night’s unfortunate, to say the least, Whoopsiedangleplop in the kitchen, when the bar on top of the cabinets came down, making a terrible mess, that I basically left unsorted, and needs tending to today.
This prompted my making plans on the duties that lay ahead for me. The Iceland delivery is coming, along with my beloved Hristina, my phlebotomy nurse in the same time-period; twixt 09:00 > 11:00hrs. I need to at least get yesterdays blog finished and posted first. Then make a start on this one. Do my ablutions. Get the mess in the kitchen sorted out, and the kitchen floor mopped up.
So, I got out of the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner; niftily I might add, and off to the EOGPB (Emergency-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket) for an EBSC (Energetic-But-Short-Painless-Cloudy) wee-wee.
Then to the kitchen to get the kettle on and do the medicationalising as needed. The pins looked in rude health, although still looking a little aenemic. The leg ulcer had almost disappeared, but there was some itching coming from it.
The sphygmomanometer revealed that the Sys had gone up again. Could be the excitement of seeing my Vampire Nurse again? But most likely at the thought of all the cleaning and sorting of the kitchen collapse is likely. Grobognangles!
I got on with the updating of the Monday blog. Pressed on persistently and eventually got it all done and posted off. (This took me around two hours to do!) During which, a stomach ache came on? It might have been Duodenal Donald getting ready to kick-off, but I’m not sure. Finally finished it and posted it off. Emailed the link, Pinterested some piccies. Then onto Facebooking.
Time to get the ablutions sorted, then the kitchen to sort out. Oh, also the handwashing to be tackled. Oh, dearie me!
Well, it’s a long time since I’ve actually walked into the door frame! Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was not pleased, at all! At least it was the right blade, and with Nicodemus’sNeuroitransmitters on strike at the time, there was not much pain.
But, Shirley seemed to kick-off the instant I collided with the door, which meant I dropped and broke one of the Jenny-donated mugs which I as taking to wash! Cragknackles! Then, bending down to pick up the pieces, Back-Pain-Brenda joined in as well, she was nasty with it! But, a Silver-Lining-Search, told me I had been doing extremely well ailment wise over the last 24hrs, so I should only expect things like this to happen. Fair enough! Gragnattles! Also, it was handily timed, so I could apply some Phorpain Gel after the ablutioning! Again, Fair enough!
Just as I was about to start cleaning the teeth, and the need for the Porcelain Throne put in an appearance. Good timing again, there I was a limp-and-a-half away from the Throne at the time! And apart from being a little messy and Khari in colour, the ensuing evacuation was almost perfect. Yes, I know, a welcome shock it was! And no bleeding! Smug-Mode-Assumed!
Washed the dandies, and then searched for some teeth to clean. (Haha! Not many left now! A bit of bleeding where I got a tad over-zealous on the back lower teeth. Ah, the shaving next! Fully aware of the likelihood of Shuddering-Shoulder Shirley causing a slash or to, instead of using both hands and two razors as usually would, I tried shaving with just the left hand. But this seemed to set Anne Gyna off? How? Why? So, I reverted, carefully to my usual method.
There were a few nicks, but nothing extreme at all. And they did not bleed much either. I reckon the INR Warfarin level must be well low. With waiting for three weeks for a blood test, it’ll be interesting to see the results of today’s test.
A stand-up all over wash (Too early to use the shower and disturb my unseen for months neighbours) The pins (legs) were looking better than they have for ages. However, the legs did look exsanguinated in the extreme, which was a smidge worrying!
Then I medicated the bodily areas in need of the same. Haemorrhoid Harold’s crevice was Germaloid creamed. Arthur Itis’s knees were Phorpain gelled. Little Inchies fungal lesion, well, as usual, I gritted my few teeth and rubbed in some Corticosteroid cream Argh! Olive-oiled the ear-holes. Applied some tincture to a couple of bothersome teeth. No Saccades Sandra spray left. I’ll see if I can get in touch with the chemist tomorrow, then see if Deana can help with arranging to have it collected for me, along with the prescriptions.
I rang Jenny to tell her that when the milk arrives, I’ll ring her, and bring it down to her. But bless her, she having none of that, and insisted she would come up to collect and pay for them. She’s not a lady to argue with! I wish she’d adopt me, though!
Then I hobbled to the waste chute with two small bags. I was walking, well, stumbling decently enough, but the feet and toes were rather painful.
Back to the flat, and got the handwashing sorted out. I got the zip-up jumper above the heated cloths air ion the hallway to catch the rising heat. (Cunning, eh? Hehe!) I’ve now one drying, another cleaned, and the one I’m wearing and dirtying. Hahaha!
Then, I washed through the yarmulke, and craftily put it on a bend in the airer, and kept turning it every now and then, to help it dry quicker. (I’m not daft yer know! Alright, fair enough, I am!)
I got the towel drying on the flat airer in the front junk-room.
Somehow or other, I attained some zeal, resolution, and pertinacity, and set about, limpingly, I admit, to get the kitchen floor cleaned!
Worra struggle and pain it was too! Cleaning of the floor, I knocked stuff over, dropped and lost things, cut my finger, banged my head on the cupboard door, broke the mop, banged my knee on the step ladders, and generally had a terrible time of it. Tsk!
But still, my determination prevailed. And finally, at last, I got the job completed. With little, if any, self-satisfaction, I’m afraid. I’d made such an absurd and frustrating accident-prone mess of it!
I got the kettle on, and the cobs and cooked beef out to make the beef sarnies, and heard the sound of the yap-yap dog, so I looked outside, and there was a group of dog walkers, all maintaining a proper social distance from each other, while their dogs had the time of their lives.
The lovely little black yap-yapper never stopped wagging its tail. The other two black dogs were playing with the bigger brown woof-woof. I got such enjoyment out of just watching them, it cheered me up a smidge.
I took another photographicalisation from the balcony, of the end of Chestnut Walk. The red cars were back.
Fellow blogger Bill, from the US of A, told me he doesn’t see many red cars over there. Looking at the top overall popular colours in the U.S., for all vehicle categories, White – 19.3%, Silver – 18%, and Black – 12.4%. The UK, it’s White – 414,403, Blue – 373,728 and Red – 226,501. Not earth-shattering, but interesting?
The Intercom flashed and much to my delight, it was Hristina, the gorgeous, sweet-natured phlebotomy nurse come to take my blood. She was soon up in the flat. Having not seen any nurse for three weeks, and it being two-months that I’ve not seen Hristina, I was a tad disappointed in her being too busy for a proper chinwag. But, she still chatted while she took the blood, bless her! I could see she was pent up a smidge. She told me of how long she’d searched for a parking space, and had to park on double yellow lines and left a note on her windscreen saying she would be back in ten minutes. Poor thing. But the lift seeing her gave me, was most appreciated.
I got Computer Cameron back on, and the intercom sounded. It was Iceland’s delivery arriving.
The chap was soon at the door and left the bags in the hall for me.
I got the carriers into the kitchen and sorted the skimmed milk into two bags to spread the weight for Jenny. Left them outside the door and telephoned her to tell her they had arrived. She again she insisted I do not take them to her, and she came up to collect them Bless her little cotton socks!
Ah, I’ve meant to look up the origin of this phrase for ages, and I finally did it! My Dad used to use it. Not to me, I might add! Hahaha!
Here’s Google’s first answer: It comes not from the cotton material, but from George Edward Lynch Cotton. In 1858 as Bishop of Calcutta, Mr Cotton created schools for Eurasian children. As part of his philanthropy, he ordered dozens of pairs of socks to be sent over for the children, blessing them on arrival.
Second one: “Bless their little cotton socks!“: Used to express your affection for somebody because of something they have said or done. 
Now we know! Hehe!
Jenny came up and pressed the bells, collected the milk and nipped off after she’d put the payment in an envelope through the door. “Bless Her Cotton Socks!” All sorted.
As I was making up three beef rolls to have later, perhaps with a few oven-chips, the mind went off on one of its lucubrations. Not a Thought-Storm as such, because somehow I was ignoring the mind-musing and getting on with making the cobs. That came out wrong, I think? I put the cobs in a cool spot to keep until I have time to eat. Not the fridge, though, cause of Toothache Thomas.
Back on the computer again, and the ‘I only want to be with you’ tune of the door bells chimed up again. Heart-stopper, ILC, and Warden Obergruppenführeress Deana came in, to test the wristlet alarm with the control room. Another busy gal! But while I had the chance, I had to ask her to help with the medications, to find out about the prescriptions for me I only have three days meds left, and if necessary, to arrange collection for me. She said she’d find out and ring me later. I’d be lost without help on the phone, thanks, Deana!
Back on the computer. Not got much done, a bit busy even for me today.
I went on CorelDraw, and guess what? Pee’d off now! I decided as it was late anyway, to turn things off, and got on with the snack. I decided (Yes, sometimes I can make my mind up! Usually, with an erroneous, wrong, incorrect, and much altered and changed outcome. Tsk!
I made three of Big Baps up with butter and roast beef slices. Marmite flavoured cheese, tomatoes, fries and an apple pie. Taste rating result: 4/10, shame! The cobs were dry and bland, the Algerian tomatoes bitter and foul, and the apple pie all sugar, no fruit. But the Marmite cheese and fries were tasty.
Washed the pots, took the medications, and got down in c1968 recliner, to watch a football match from Euro 2016. Can’t remember at the moment who was playing, cause I fell asleep before it started.
Woke up four hours later, thinking it was morning, and got up. I should have known really, cause there were no demands for a wee-wee or the Porcelain Throne!
I decided to stay up anyway. I had a bash at trying to get the ankle-support strap on. No chance!
So I got this blog updated and sent off, then on Facebooking.
Taketh care folks!
I manipulated my way out of the £300, second-hand, rickety, none-working, c1968, recliner and caught my balance. (I did give out a silent ‘Argh! when I got my weight onto the poor overgrown toenails, Haha!) But this did not delay my wobbling-hobble in haste, to the wet room. But Dizzy Dennis pulled me up en route, and I needed a couple of stops, to keep my balance. 
I got the impression that I may have been doing some Nocturnal somnambulationing! As I took this shot going into the kitchen, so many things were not in their usual places, and the washed long-sleeved shirts, had been moved about on their hangers?
I made a welcome mug of Glengettie Gold tea, and off to the computer. Dozzt Dennis had been lingering since I used the Throne, and he gave me momentary visit again. I caught my shoulder against the door frame and spilt some of the hot tea down my volumingargantuan-flabby stomach and down the right leg. 
not-so-bright side, my left foot did hit the frame as well, and the message of agony in the toes was definitely sent! Arumsquatulistions, it hurt like hell! It did for hours! Humph!
Figures have shown the total amount of people across the county who have tested positive for coronavirus. As of Monday, May 11, there are now 569 confirmed cases in the city boundary and 1,224 across the wider county. 
It comes after Nottingham University Hospitals NHS Trust (NUH), which runs Queen’s Medical Centre and Nottingham City Hospital, confirmed two more coronavirus patients have died. Medical director Dr Keith Girling said the patients were aged 46 and 97.
d to bring a smile to my face, I’ll mention that the sock-glide was not utilised again. I’m not looking forward to having to wear socks again! 
e bags and a recycling box, and got them in and on the three-wheeled walker, ready to take down to chute and bin. I used the box that the headphones came in for the recycling stuff to go in.
cerning. To save time; unless there is a change of circumstances or variety, I’ll try to avoid the urge of doing so. 
so painful, I could have laughed out loud at myself. 
some tenants squashing big load of stuff down, and blocking the shaft, repeatedly. They still do it, of course. 
Said my farewells, (I swear I could see relief come over their faces, Tsk!) and made my way back up in the elevator to the flat, a tad sad at leaving the human contact behind. 
Then the intercom sounded. It was volunteer helper Sarah, who had fetched my prescriptions for me. This is so kind and helpful. I got to open the door before she got up to the flat, and found a parcel laying there on the floor? 
l Got the bag of prescription into the kitchen. There was no Duodenal Donald medicine in it, but I had some, so this might be the month when they skip it, no fretting. I’m afraid they are using the blue & white pods again for the daily dose trays. Just like the last time. The tablets are sticking to the inside of the plastic, with the static electricity used to seal them. I’ll have to take proper care when getting them out, or else it will be like two months ago when the smaller tablets had got stuck underneath the top sheet and I couldn’t get at them without making a decoration of tablets on the kitchen floor. 
The Amazon parcel was the second reserve head
Off to put the pasties in with the spuds now. 
03:55hrs: I woke, with frantic thoughts still storming around at random in my sadly confused head. Wind emitting from the rear end, RAI (Rheumatoid-Arthur-Itis) was giving me some electric-shock like stabbing pains in both knees, before I’d even moved my legs!
‘Will I be able to get the balcony door lock to open?’ Somewhat rather hopefully: ‘Is the Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, just down the road from the Lidl store, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, going to let me down once again with the non-delivery of my prescriptions?’ ‘I could sense that Little Inchies fungal lesion had been bleeding, can I put up with the pain of cleaning and medicating it again?’ 
All thoughts were abandoned at this stage. To be replaced with the urgent need for me to avoid any embarrassment, and get to the Porcelain Throne in time. Removing my obesely overweight stomached body from the depths of the £300, second-hand, recliner, was achieved without any Accifauxpas, caught my balance, grabbed the walking stick and hobbled rapidly as I could to the wet room. 
Got the kettle on for the Thompsons Punjana, and got some mushrooms in the crock-pot, to use later o both meals. Salt and the last drop of hickory were added for seasoning. 
Astronomicalisations! What a proper old-time ablutions session that was, folks. Not a single-cut shaving! Little Inchies fungal lesion temporarily healed, so no bleeding! Harold’s Haemorrhoids were also bloodless! No visits from Dizzy Dennis, Shaking Shaun. Neuropathic Pete’s leg dancing, Shoulder-Shuddering Shirley, or Anne Gyna! I am Gobsmacked, flabbergasted! 
A dash of after-shave, a spray of deodorant, and Phorpain gelled the knees. Olive-oiled the ears, Sprayed the Saccades water in the eyes and cleaned the glasses. Made sure I’d got the right PP’s in the new bag (The last lot of XXL’d kept dropping down!). Got the bath towel on the clothes airer. 
Off to the kitchen. 
Back to the kitchen and got the spuds done up and served on the plate. Tomatoes, gherkins, cheese discs, silverskin onions, Tuna flakes in brine, the mushrooms, some extra-strong cheddared potatoes with butter and sea salt. choco bar, Limoncello dessert and a can of Gordon’s G&T. 
I espied some dogs taking their owners for a walk in the bottom field, and took this snap on the right of them. 
I thought maybe I’d better have something to eat. So, I demolished what was left of the cheesy potatoes in the bowl, and put the basin to soak with the cutlery.
r TV. Oh, and an extension cable. Got the details of the delivery trackers via email. Headphones ETA Monday up to 22:00hrs. Cheapo set headphones, Wednesday 13th up to 21:00hrs. The extension lead due; Thursday 21st May. Ah, well!
I returned in the flat and thought I’d better get something to nibble too, to try and settle the stomach, that was kicking-off as well now. I wasn’t up to cooking anything more, but then again was not hungry particularly hungry. I got a paper-plate made up. Last of the decent tomatoes, the mini-Melton Mowbray pork pies from Friday, and a few Marmite rice cakes. I didn’t eat all of the pies, just two. But had I not felt so tired, I might have gone to fetch some more Marmite cakes, they tasted delicious. 
04:25hrs: I woke, with the tummy rumbling, and some wind fluttering from the rear-end. This was different! Aha, the Porcelain Throne needed. Maybe this time, I can actually move something, if the Macrogol has done its thing, I thought. Action needed. 
I glanced at the pins (legs) before attempting to move, it seemed the left one had put on some fluid or weight, the right one had lost weight. I know this happening is regular, but today it seemed a more marked difference. Hey-ho!
The toes and feet were just as bad though. But during the short hobble to the wet room, I recognised that many ailments were on strike this morning. Hehe! Saccades-Sandra, Duodenal Donald and Reflux Roger pains were none existent! Anne Gyna, Shaking Shaun and Arthur Itis were hardly giving any hassle at all! Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters were going off and on at will. Shoulder-Shuddering-Shirley as having the odd jerk. It’s just as well, the toes and feet were bad enough on their own.
I got down on the disabled raised Porcelain Throne and instant action! For a second or two, then I hit a half-in/half-out, no-go period. Which was not wasted, I got on the crossword book and got a few solutions done, and the ‘flow’ began again. The pain was alarming, but it did it all of its own accord, no effort needed from yours truly at whatever. All I had to do was bear the pain. It’s alife innit, gerrin’ old! But once again, things could have been a lot worse. Harold’s Haemorrhoids and Little Inches fungal lesion had both only produced a few specks of blood! I moved my slight inkling of semi-hope, up to a Semi-Contented-Status. I still felt that things were going too well, and a distant, nebulous, concern lingered in my mind.
Off to the kitchen, took the medications as best I could. The medicine avalanche and tumble yesterday has left me guessing at what tablets are what, from the selection, I’d retrieved from the floor. 
Then I made a mug of the Glengettie Gold tea. 
and it came on. Having some bother now, ain’t I?
my dragged feet and the four-pronged walking stick, searching to no avail. Grrr! 
I got carried away clearing up and made another couple of boxes to go to the waste chute. I got them dropped down, and a feeling of expectancy of something different about to happen on my way back, not necessarily a good thing either is on its way, came over me. Someone or thing had walked over my grave!
Boy, the legs were cold (not wearing trousers does that to you, sometimes). Yet the sunshine outside was strong. Jane said she went out earlier and it was nippy. I suddenly got the feeling that I had left the tap running in the wet room, panicked, muttered something like ‘Argh! back in a bit’, and shot off to infestigate, well investigate I should have said. All was okay in the wet room, and I returned quickly and explained my ignorant behaviour. It was hard to hear what Jane was saying, a very echoey line, and she was talking rather fast. 
I pressed on with this blog for a few hours. 
It brought out the wrinkles a bit, mind. Haha! 
I got on with sorting the meal. Ended up with a delightful plate of, Mushroom pate (Sorry Jane). sweet potato fritters (Excellent!). Halloumi sticks (Not bad), mushrooms (seasoned with hickory, soya and sea salt). Pickled Gherkins, a mix of sour Morrocan, and sweet Netherlands tomatoes. One of the freebie red apples from Serbia. One super-tasty sourdough muffin with Marmite, and a pot of lemon mousse. having to use the Ski first, as they have a later date than the Tesco ones that Jenny got for me. All in all, a Flavour-R
I found a 1962 film about to start, on channel 81 Freeview. ‘Crooks Anonymous’, starring Leslie Phillips, Stanley Baxter & Wilfrid Hyde-White, James Robertson Justice, Dick Emery, 
03:55hrs: I been up for about three hours by this time, thanks to sleep not being interested in joining me. Pottering about half-heartedly, I pretended to sort-out the fridge, concentrated on it for a full five minutes. Then toyed at doing the washing up. 
I made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea. And found that I had calmed down, and gone into ‘Accepting-Mode’? Even as I stood there, amid the medical mayhem, mess; There was no guilt, no feeling sorry for myself, or sulking! I think that with Nicodemus playing up, the full message of the pain had not got through to the brain? Oh, course I could be wrong. 
the window, and took a photo of the morning moon. As I stood there with the window open, I found myself off on a Thought-Storm again. Not a particularly bad one, mind. More, strongly musing, and casting away the worrying thoughts, and holding onto the better ones. This is not like m
got the large order in a bag or two at a time, and into the kitchen. Despite the horrendous start to the day, I was feeling good. As I packed away the goods, I realised there had been a lot of substituting and items not delivered. 
I hope their smokey bacon is better tasting than the watery Iceland label rubbish. But I fear the look identical. A high-note, the yhad sent some of the delicious sweet potato Fritters, and I tried a pack of Hovis sourdough muffins. The bananas were a tad green, but not to fret. I got the fridge stuff put away first. 
It was hard work making the room to get it in, I’d ordered a fair bit. Initially, I was tickled pink when I saw they had some Cox’s apples in stock and ordered a pack. Grobblecluckinghell! Every apple was either bruised, pot-marked or had a wormhole in them! I’m sorry I gave the bloke a can of plonk now! Humph! 
I found a packet of two frozen Louisiana Chick’n Burgers? I did not recall ordering these, but they’d charged me, so I must have. On closer inspection, it claimes Amazing Chicken Taste, but I could not see any meat in the ingredient list? I’ve never been less interested in any product in my life! Vegetarian or Vegan? Not for me! I dished it in the waste bag, which made just enough room to get the other stuff into the freezer, Haha! 
The job was done, and another brew made, I might get to drink this one. 
I got the ablutions tended to. I could hardly believe hoe the body had changed so quickly. The arms and legs had positively shrunk! But the already overbearing stomach was much bigger? The toenails keep getting longer and more painful. Anyroad, the session was another good one. Only two little nicks shaving. I did cut the gums a fair few times when I was doing the teeth, but that was all down to Shuddering Shoulder Shirley. Little Inchies fungal lesion had been bleeding, but I’ve had it a lot worse this. Harold’s Haemorrhoids were only trickling blood. All in all, a surprisingly decent session! 
Some more updating (will I ever get it done?) I took a snap of the shadowy bottom field. Funny how the Nikon seems much better at taking this sort of shot in auto mode. The Panasonic is not so good. 
ling away, I wonder what he’s making today. 
milk stuff from the Government, and now they have no bread delivered from Iceland! Just look at the list of have-nots-in-stock! It’s a grand job that Jenny is doing for me. I shouldn’t have to worry about desserts until the next Morrison delivery arrives in three weeks, though. I’ll try to get some bread from the mobile shop on Friday, I’ve enough until then. I’ve put the sourdough muffins in individual bags in the freezer, having one tonight perhaps, I’ve left that one out in the 
kitchen.
always like this. Went out on the balcony to take a shot of the wonderful clouds. I like this one. 
I made another brew and started on this post. I noticed when I used the rath
I had a quick search for the latest Coronavirus figures available, Nottingham and local East Midlands cities, and the UK. 
Sokowlo pork hot dogs, fries, cheese discs, a mix of cherry tomatoes; the foul, bitter-tasting Moroccan ones from Iceland, and the Netherlands ultra-tasty sweet ones from Morrisons. Chestnut mushrooms, a well-bruised Morrison’s Cox’s apple, a lemon mousse dessert (having to eat the Ski mousse first, as they are shorter-dated than the Asda ones that Jenny got for me) The sourdough muffin, I’d Marmited, and they went down extremely well! I used one of the individual Marmite pots I bought from Amazon, tasty, and just enough! Flavour rating: 8/10! 
Got the washing up done, and as expected, sleep was not forthcoming easily. Much hogwash half-watched on the TV. No nodding off and waking again tonight, though. Looking back, when I did nod off, very late in the evening, at least I slept right through for, wait for it… six-hours! 
03:45hrs: I stirred into an unwilling simulation of life, and immediately the wee-wee demands arrived. This time, I was careful in my manipulations at getting out of the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working recliner. That’s the uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner. That xyrophobia-suffering, chaetophorous, anti-epilation Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward. And he fitted new CCTC cameras, then searched for my valuables, which he found and took. (I still haven’t got all of the money back yet, nine-months later). 
New PP’s, a wash of the hands, that encapsulated my dropping the soap at least three times! Yes, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were playing up a tad already. This didn’t bode well for any physical tasks, making the meals or decent typing for today. But, you never know with my ailments, many come and go at their leisure for varying lengths of time. The important thing, was no Dizzy Dennis, Saccades Sandra, Anne Gyna, Reflux Roger, Shuddering Shoulders Shirley, Toothache Tim, Earache Eric, or Memory blanks had been of any bother, yet. Even Arthur Itis and Duodenal Donald were only playing at it this morning. The toes and feet were, of course, making up for the absence of effort from their fellow ailments. Hahaha! 
I went on Facebooking, The Troll Free Zone, then the Winwood Heights page.
I gingerly made another brew, to replace the one that had gone cold. My brain was working well again because I remembered to make and take some Macrogol powder, to tackle Constipation Conrad’s resistance to movement. 
As I went to close the thick-framed, letting-in-rain, light & view-blocking kitchen window, I thought I heard some weird grinding noise from I knew not where. I took a blind shot of Chestnut walk below, but there were no signs of anything that might have made the sound I heard? 
All done, and I am astoundingly, mind-bogglingly amazed! No, I say, No toe-stubbing, No knocking anything off of the shelves, no sock-glide battle (fair enough, I’m still not wearing socks cause of long nails), only two tiny nicks shaving, and only four dropsies. A safety record for ablutionalisationing that will never be beaten, indeed?
Got the meal prepped and served up, into the recliner, got the headphones (I’ve taped them up so I can still them, but they are not functioning properly since I sat on them and broke them. Humph). Still, better than nothing. I thought I’d coped well with the preparations and serving, and by the time I was ready to take the tray through, there were many odd bits and sploshes all over the kitchen that will need cleaning up later. Gnash-and-spit! 
03:45hrs: A zombie woke instead of me this morning…, Oh no, that was me! Hehehe! As I morphed back into reality; as if to validate this, the need for the Porcelain Throne. Which pressured me, to do battle with my gross, nauseatingly, flabby-stomached body. To free it from the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, grungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner. The one that bullying xyrophobia-suffering, pools and lottery winner, Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward. He searched for my valuables, which he found and took, (I still haven’t got them all back yet eight-months later), and broke the recliner while Pete was counting the money he was robbing me of. Still, he gave me a lift in his jam-jar from the hospital to the nursing home when the Stroke Ward kicked me out cause they needed the bed. As Pete said, someone had to pay for the petrol that was used. I’m wandering off subject again, sorry.
A sprinkling of rain started after I’d took the sky pictures as if it was trying to keep the rainbow on view. I took three photographs through the bottom of the windows in the balcony around the flat. 
I made another brew and took a Senna tablet. And got a large potato put in the small crock-pot cooking for later. 
I got the nosh prepared and served up. Eating it was a little vague, but I found scribbled notes that I had difficulty in reading later. 
03:25hrs: I stirred into a loose form of pretend-life, and recognised that the need for the Porcelain Throne was somewhat urgent. Without much thought or common sense, I attempted straight away, to remove my overly-stomached torso from the £300 second-hand recliner. 
A hard truth to put into understandable words, but I’ll try my bestest, such a lot of calamities came within seconds of each other. 
Off to take the medications and make a brew, and the letter that arrived last night was perused. 
Then, I realised I had not used the Cif 100% mould remover, I’d used Cif 100% Oven & Grill Remover! 
I made a brew and had a look outside. Some dogs walking their owners were about, so I got the camera to try and take a few shots. The dogs were a bit too lively for me to catch a photo of them with their owners.
As I checked on the potatoes in the slow-cooker, the intercom burst into life. It was the Amazon delivery of black bags and the electric tin (can) opener. I pointed rolled a can of G&T to the chap, and he was very pleased with it, and the genuine thanks I gave him. 
Having got the peas in the saucepan, I set about making up some black bags. The roll of sacks in my hand in this picture contained 200! 
Back up to get the nosh sorted. Very tasty. Flavour rating of 8.8/10, the potatoes that the Government had kindly given me in the food parcel, were excellent, slow-cooked with a drop of balsamic and malt vinegar added. The flavour soaked in well with using the crock-pot to sort of marinating. 
I was gobsmacked at the evacuation. It was all over in a couple of minutes, and nowhere near as bloody as yesterday. It’s still a bit painful mind. Well-pleased with this start to the day, I took a photo of the pale pins (legs) but found that Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were on strike again, and this time the shaking and lack of sense of touch contact, were minuscule. Hence, the picture was blurry, not a good one! It seemed like and felt to me, that they might be just coming back on-line. 
As I made my way, cursing the pain from the toenails, into the kitchen, RAI (Rheumatoid Arthur Itis) began, what was to be a day-long session of giving me and my knees a lot of grief! However, Duodenal Donald, although still with me, was vastly less bothersome. Swings and roundabouts? 
I made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea. Got the medications out and taken, and spent a few moments ponderisationing on the day’s expectancies. I find myself in a q
The mobile phone rang out, it was on well, and genuinely ancient, 1965 Hopewells E-Plan, worn, pot-marked, desk close to me, and the noise made me jump. Hehehe
Shame about the changes, no Imperfect Chips in stock, my favourites as well, am I lucky or what? Tsk! 
I didn’t get far, I forgot about the ablutions, so tended to them. Well, they went well for a change again! The dropsies added up to only four! Brilliant! The toothbrush, the soap, the showerhead and the body spray can. I did well there! No, knocking anything over or off of owt, no toe-stubbings either! Smugeth Mode Engaged!
The old ankle ulcer was prominent again and developed a gorgeous light brown colour instead of its usual blue-red shade. The veins were bulging a tad.
inside. 
fodder about to take this photo of them all. As I began to put the items away, the first thing that came to mind was tonight’s nosh. I decided to try the pork and caramelised sausages, and make some imitation hot dogs with the brown wholemeal deli rolls delivered.
I was not confident that I would like them that much. Iceland had a habit of producing great things, like the ‘Naturally Imperfect Chips, and their quarter-pounder beefburgers, both great! But I’m afraid that they do sell items that are horrible as well. Like their so-called fresh tomatoes, own label pork pies etc., so what these rolls and sausages will be like, I’ll find out later. I got around to checking the stuff as I put it in the fridge, and oh, dearie me! 
Miserable now, self-pitying and depressed, all that missed opportunities with so many interruptions that stole away a rare opportunity for me to get some graphics done while the nerve-ends were working, lost! 
I got on the meal cooking. Ah, well, that’s Inchcock’s luck all over. Tsk! 
Sweet Morpheous resisted, again! 
02:45hrs: I woke up, and stirred with a certain reluctance. Brought about by my anxiety of what the next mistake, error, memory lapse, blank-spell or tumble will bring forth with it.
Determined not to get uptight and despondent like the last two days, I deliberated and brain-stormed in search of some positives from the situation. I surprised myself in how many I came up with. Most of the deformed, or contrived, but they made me feel a bit better, just for thinking of the silliness in most of them:
When I got in the wet room, and the flow, flowed with an amazing forcefulness for once, as opposed to the trickling efforts of the last few days. I noticed the lower right arm had gone a speckly red-orange colour? 
I washed my hands as I did so, the damned carbolic soap shot out of my palm, bounced off of the wall, and straight down in the toilet bowl! That’s the end of that then. I’ll have a ferret around in the airing cupboard later, to see if I can any soap in there. 
Into the kitchen, and took the medications, guzzled a load of the inefficacious, unfructuous, otiose Peptac to try to calm Duodenal Donald down a bit. Made a brew and opened the window to see what the odd noise was, found no cause for it, and took a photo of the morning view of the twinkling Nottingham lights.
I then had a check on the WordPress comments. Then started this blog going. 
Sister Jane and Brother in Law Pete sent me a photograph of their latest just received freebie box of fodder. (Right one doctored by yours truly, to show what they really meant. Hahaha!)
Simple enough meal. The last of my low-fat, ‘Naturally Imperfect’ oven chips were crispy and not fatty at all. The burgers were grand. The last of the piccolo tomatoes were wonderful, a Marmite and plain cheese disc were okay. 
Then settled down to watch some TV, with a certainty that sleep would surely come early tonight, after all, I was feeling mentally drained. AS long as the Thought-Storms didn’t kick-off. 
A different version of Inchcock returned to his £300, second-hand, uncomfortable, c1968, not-working rickety recliner. A sad, grumpy thing, who became sadderer, when sleep refused to come, he didn’t even have any nodding-offs.