Tuesday 12th May 2020
Welsh: Dydd Mawrth 12fed Mai 2020
03:45hrs: I stirred, again with the thoughts of how I am going to get the door to the balcony open. Then the mind moved morosely on, to thoughts of all the bother I am causing over the prescription volunteers to collect them from the chemist, for me. Then the toenails twinged without my moving my feet, and how can I get them cut, to over the thoughts. But not for long! The sudden and urgent need arrived, for a wee-wee! (Which seemed to set the trend for the day. Tsk!)
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.
By the time I arrived the Porcelain Throne was also needed. The principal evacuation was again painful, but happily of short duration. The wee-wee was still taking place when the major evacuation had finished. An FFFONEE (Forceful-Furious-Fast-Orange-Never-Ending) variety. Steam emitted from the pan as I stood up? No idea which of the evacuations it came from, though. Hehehe!
I got the cleaning and medicationing of areas in need done, and off to the kitchen.
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 scrapped together an assortment of tablets which I thought would not be too harmful to me, there are now no tablets left to pick from at all from the pod ones. The other bits I found in the drawer, were not identifiable, so I put them in the yellow bin. I must remember to ask the blood-nurse if she can take the box with her for proper disposal.
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.
But, circumstances limited the pain from both the knock and the tea! You see, when the liquid hit the leg, by good fortune, it was the right leg, and Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were not working, and did not send the message of the Accifauxpas to the brain. So, no pain! Silver-lining, you see?
But, on the 
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!
I got on with updating the Monday blog and got it done it in record time. Thanks mainly, to Dizzy Dennis taking a break, and Nicodemus apparently affecting only the leg this morning, showing no interest in the right arm or hand. I’m not moaning about the confusion over this, just damned joyously glad about it!
Sent the email link off, and went on the WordPress reader section. Replied to the comments. And onto TFZer Facebooking for an hour or more.
I had a look at the Coronavirus figures for Nottinghamshire. Finding this comment from Public Health England:
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.
I’m not sure if reducing the isolation yet, is a good idea. Remember the 1918 flu epidemic. But, it must be costing the country an absolute fortune?
I hand-washed a long-sleeve shirt and left it in the bowl in fabric softener. Then off to get the ablutions sorted.
This didn’t go as well as the last two days, mind. The dropsies were far too many to mention, I don’t have enough bandwidth! Hehe! But the bleeding from Little Inchies fungal lesion was fresh, thus, much less painful and hassle to clean up and medicate. Harold’s Haemorrhoids were no leaking at all. The end dropsies got a bit farcical, Germolid and Germole tubes, olive oil bottle, body spray and fresher cans went as well. The deodorant pot, bit-the-dust three times! An
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!
Dizzy Dennis started of again, but not until the ablutionisationing was all done, and I was dressed. Kind of him! I then washed the bath towel and hung it to dry, with the long-sleeved t-shirt above the sink. I must remember to add some fabric softener to the Morrison order later on. But, will I remember to?
Then I made-up some wast
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.
I’ve not been mentioning it, but the wee-weeing had continued so frequently (all of the FFFONEE (Forceful-Furious-Fast-Orange-Never-Ending) mode. The orangeness is a shred con
cerning. To save time; unless there is a change of circumstances or variety, I’ll try to avoid the urge of doing so.
I got the buggy out of the door into the flat’s lobby without too much difficulty. Apart from the pain from the toes, Grumph!
As I opened the lobby door, I was blinded by the sunshine coming through the lift-lobby window. I left the trolley holding the door open and tried my bestest to take a picture of the reflecting sunlight view. But, after trying two or four attempts at getting a shot looking anything like the naked eye saw it, this was the best I could come up with. Shame!
I got myself in a bit of a pickle trying to get the carrier-walker to go through the door, lost my balance a little, and ended up back further inside the flats lobby. Hahaha! If it wasn’t 
so painful, I could have laughed out loud at myself.
I hobbled along and getting into the waste-chute room was not a lot easier. But I did it carefully, without any Accifauxpas. You can see in this photo, just how small they have made the chute we have to use. This is because of 
some tenants squashing big load of stuff down, and blocking the shaft, repeatedly. They still do it, of course.
I got in the lift cage, and down to the ground floor with the box of recyclables for the caretaker’s room bin.
Stephen was there with another chap, and I was in my element. They could not stop me, although Stutteringly Stephany affected. I admit, chatting away, joking and smiling. By heck, I’ve missed the nattering, blathering, and small-talk, since the lock-down started. I tend to get a little excited when I get the opportunity for soliloquising, or kibitzing, nowadays. Even with the stuttering, I got a few laughs… although, perhaps it might have been because of my stuttering! Hahaha!
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.
I’d not been in and back on the computer for long, and the landline flashed and rang forth.
It was the Vampire Nurse, come to take my blood. Vanessa, the new girl. While she took the blood, I mentioned the none-opening balcony door. Bless her, she had a go at it for me. But no luck. (No luck – that’s something that follows me everywhere lately!)
Another spell on the computer (Between wee-weeing) of about ten minutes and the landline rang and flashed.
It was Dr Vindla. The first time that she’d ever rung me! She wanted to know I was alright for food and prescriptions. I stuttering told her about the prescriptions having to be fetched be volunteers for me. Explained I was having food delivered online. I thought I’d mention the feet causing me some anguish with the leg ulcer returning and the long toenails, causing me to have a few falls recently (which is true). I was told it’s the same for everybody. I almost apologised for mention it. Still, it was nice to stutter to someone. I’ve done well nattering-wise today. Steve and Paul. Then Doctor. Things are looking up.
Then back to the computing, loaded my Inchcock-made list of words to use, and found the Notepad page, was mysteriously, ‘Not Found’? I thought about crying. Instead, after trying to find out where it had gone, and failing to, I got on with creating another one from scratch. I spent hours and was not getting very far with it.
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?
I moved the bubble wrap bag into the front room. Then got back to the door as the Lady Sarah arrived. She said who she was, and dropped the bag on the floor, and wished me good luck. I made a point of thanking her with Agusto. I didn’t know if she’s be offended if I offered a G & T in thanks. But she was off with more to delivery to others in a flash. Genuine Angel Mark Two today! Thank you, Sarah!
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 headphones I’d ordered. Nearly twice the cost of the ones I got yesterday. Apart from having a volume control on these ones, they are exactly the same! But I’m not complaining about the tablets or headphones at all. I just appreciate having the prescriptions delivered, by a caring helper. And the headphones will be all ready for the next time when I fall one, sit on, drop and break, or lose the current headset. Hahaha!
I got some potatoes mixed with cheese and got them in the oven to cook. I’ll finish on the computer in a while, and get the beef pasties in with the spuds and see how it all goes, the spuds I didn’t realise, were for microwaving only when I ordered them. Fingers crossed.
Off to put the pasties in with the spuds now.
Fair nosh, 7/10 for flavour.
Incidentally, if anyone is interested in making imitation rubies, they could do worse than drain a jar of Asda whole beetroots and use them. Of course, you’ll need to find a way of softening the beetroots before you sell them.
Washed the pots, had a wee-wee and got down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly-beige-coloured, inoperable, recliner.
Amazingly, I was off in the land of nod, within a few minutes. No thought-storms to bother me. (I think they had worn themselves out during the day!)
Woken up by the mobile ringing. They had rung off by the time I got to the phone. A Birmingham number 0120.
Getting back to sleep took ages…
The landline then flashed and rang! Can’t blame folk who do not understand my enforced odd hours I keep. It depends on whether or not I slept all the previous night, I’ve had two sleepless nights last week. Whether it be Duodenal Donald, Anne Gyna, Peripheral Pete, Suddering Shoulder Shirley or whichever ailment stop me kipping, it’s always irritating and frustrating, trying to get caught up.
Half-asleep, it was Jenny ringing. She kindly told me that Lloyds Chemist, in Sherwood, still deliver prescriptions. (I read they are going to charge, but it’ll be worth it if its a reasonable cost) I’ll have to talk to the surgery to see if the Doctor Vindla can send them to Sherwood. Good of her to think of me. Bless her.
Now the Thought Storms began again. So drifting off again was a long time coming.
Be back in the morning to update, or, if I cannot get to sleep again, later tonight. Int life confusing? Hehehe!
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. 
From approximately midnight, I had Thought Storms aplenty. Broken by a precious few nod-offs, they were only a few minutes long, the instant I jumped awake, it was as if I had been searching in my slumber, for worries, concerns, and fears, building them up for when I woke, and the soul-destroying Brain-Storming recommenced! 
As I gained some semi-balance and was reaching for the four-pronged walking stick, and Dizzy Dennis had a go at me. (He’s not attacked me so ferociously for a while, but he made up for it this time!) I floundered and fortuitously fell back in the chair, via hitting my bum and piles on the way down against the arm. By ‘ecky-thump, I felt that! It took me a few minutes to gather myself, get over the shock, and then I tried (successfully) again to get up on my plates (feet). 
I had a quick check on the latest sad news from the virus.
The intercom rang forth, it was the Iceland delivery. It’ll or nothing innit? Haha!
Into the kitchen to do the washing up. I spotted two youths on the bottom field, a skateboarder and a cyclist, so my hackles-lifted. I’m not sure if they were rolling spliffs, cigarettes, or taking crack, but I took this decentish shot of them. When I viewed it on the camera, I realised the Saccades Sandra as playing and jumping about my focussing, shame! I used this shot as a background and made a Thoughts graphic in the morning. 
