12 | October | 2014 | Inchie Today

Saturday 11^th October

0400hrs: WC. Checked the ‘Inch’ – very little blood, still swollen and looking inflamed. I forgot to put me Clotrimazole cream on (Twit!)

Being as our Jane and Pete had too much on for me to visit them. They do live a full life, and Jane has is doing well, so proud of her.

So I’ve decreed today as an idle stay at home day!

My concentration is not good today for some reason.

Laptop started. Made a cuppa took me medications

I spend an awfully long time doing graphics for later use, perusing the Men’s Left Handed Usage sites etc. (Only joking)

On retiring the ‘Inch’ bed and bled when I applied the cream. Huh!

Sunday 12^th October

Wot an odd night! Waking up every few minutes throughout. The porcelain had a good few visits.

Pains in the knees of a new character – when I went to apply me Phorpain gel I realised what they were… Boils!

Oh lucky me.

Bloomin’ cold again this morning.

Came down and put the heater on in the front room. Made a cuppa and took me medications. During which I thought and pondered about me dosages. On the usual medications it says clearly so many to be taken days or nights. But what about the penicillin? It says four a day – is a day 12 hours or 24? Must remember to ask Dr Vindla about this in the morning. And the fact that despite the med’s and cream, little ‘Inch’ is still bleeding away.

0545hrd, Updated this and started working on my next Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe for me Inchcock site.

Got the post finished and posted – toyed on Facebook and did some graphics to post.

A warm wet feeling had encroached on my lower regions… I’d better go and get myself ready for me walk and check out the ‘Inch’ then get beautified in case some lady speaks to me on me ramble. (Hehe… back in a bit… I hope – None did!)

Well I’ve got me ablutions finished and very little blood this time. Talking of time, it’s time I was off on me walk into town.

Set off on it and took a picture of Mansfield Road in Carrington.

Then walked along and noticed the sky looked wonderful this morning, but it was colder than it looked though.

I trundled limping along, with everyone passing me, and there seemed a lot of folk going into town for a Sunday.

Wonder what was taking place?

As I got nearer town, I noticed the window ledge of House of Fraser had come in handy for somebody last night on their piss-up night out. A contraceptive, fag packet and nub-ends Costa coffee cups and a crushed half eaten food box scattered around. In the phone box further on the same assortment was laying inside?

Clinton Street looked like there was a marathon going on in it, it was that busy.

The many banks ATM’s were busy as well.

So I took the less busy longer route into the slab square because I could see a couple of mobility scooters mixed in with the crowds on Milton Street.

In the slab square a bit of excitement I thought – seeing a police van, a police car an ambulance and a paramedics car sited on Long Row.

I took a photo or two and approached to see if I could find out what had been taking place – but could see nothing untoward and was very disappointed.

I pondered around a bit and made me way back to Parliament Street via King Street, and there was a demonstration taking place just near Brian Clough’s statue.

It looked like Brian Clough’s statue was cheering them on.

I didn’t find out what it was all about as there were some hecklers to the right of em as I took the photo.

So I decided to walk the long way around again.

That explains the police presence then.

In the square there was many temporary food take-away outlets, some giving off steam and flames as they prepared the many foreign foods for the eager Nottinghamians prepared to pay out the outrageous prices being asked.

Man skateboarders and cyclists belting about all over the place – but none of the police officers around seemed concerned at all.

If I’d got a 303 and shot a few they would be I suppose.

I hobbled up Market Street and realised how many of them ‘orrible money grabbing Pay-Day Loan companies had premises on Upper Parliament Street and took a photo of a few.

Some of the signs were approaching liable I think.

“You are not alone – we can help!”

“We buy your gold”

“Cheques Cashed”

“Can we help you – It’s so easy!”

“Loans Guaranteed”

“We buy and sell all items”

“Short Term Loans at fantastic rate!”

“Exclusive Pay-day Loans – No Credit Checks!” etc.

The gullible and poor are being preyed on here!

And I don’t think it’s right! Moan over now!

I caught the bus back to Carrington, and it was so full and I think the driver was behind because he was doing his best to have the passenger on the floor as he rushed us home.

As we stopped at the traffic lights (much to the displeasure of the driver) I noticed the old Evangelical Church had been sold and they had moved into premised that were obviously cheaper to maintain and run.

If I remember afterwards I’ll Google the new occupants’ name and see if I can find out who they are.

Got off bruised a little, and hobbled back to the hovel.

I updated this tosh, cuppa and medications taken. ‘Inch’ tended to (A bit more blood this time) and got me nosh ready.

Part of the “A Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe” Series

En route to the Inn where we were to stay for the week, we decided, after the second electric fault with the van, to invest in a newer one between us.

Anyway, the RAC got us there… well, to a garage just up the road from the Inn.

In the morning, we fetched the repaired van (£160), and went on a reconnaissance run to suss out the better fisheries available locally to us. After a vote on which to fish that day, we visited the Broads to fish.

It was hot, the boat traffic was horrendous, and I had not had a bite for hours.

I decided to try out my new ledger-rod, and set up with a coffin lead, 16 spade-end bronze forged reversed spade-end hook, and baited with pressed bread. Casting in close to the bank, for fear of getting tangled with many boats going up and down the river.

No bites, nothing for another hour – at which point I thought I’d nip along the bank to the other lads to see how they were doing, and ask them if they wanted to move somewhere else.

Bill, catching a few skimmers said he was happy to stay.

Jock, was fast asleep, so I didn’t wake him up.

Mad Ken, was going at it like a mad-man, walloping in tons of ground-bait, and loose feed, casting every few minutes.

I asked him how he was doing and he said, “Nuffin’ yet, but I did have bite abart an hour ago, un I cun see rings ont water, summat big in there!” He did not want to move either.

I returned to my peg, just in time to see a *unt in a punt, going past so close to the bank, and he dragged in my rod and tackle as he sped off!

Well pissed off I was then!

The next day, after a night of good company, booze, darts, dominoes, and fish & chips we went to some gravel pits near Yarmouth to fish.

After several hours of nothing happening, a bailiff collected our monies, and advised me to try sweetcorn on the hook – I did, nothing happened.

Depressed and frustrated, I went to see how the other lads were doing. Bill had some big bream, Mad Ken was into the Tench, and Jock was asleep on the bank. Seeing the good fish that Ken and Bill had caught, renewed my spirits, and I hastily returned to my peg… and sat there for another three hours with nothing happening, until the lads decided they had had enough.

The next day, after a night of good company, booze, darts, dominoes, and fish & chips we decided to fish the river Waveney. That was stone’s throw from the inn we were staying at. It was shallow, fast moving, and full of snags!

I got tangled not surprisingly, and had to bend down, and put a foot in the river to free the hook – as I stood up again, me head made severe contact with a tree trunk.

The nurses at the Lowestoft Road Hospital’s Accident & Emergency unit were very kind.

The next day, in the afternoon I was released from the hospital.

The next day, after a night of good company, booze, darts, dominoes, and fish & chips, we set out to fish a river near a windmill (Can’t remember the name).

We parked up, walked over a mill, I went into a field, and settled on the bank to fish in the high winds of the day.

At last I was to catch a few fish, bream, roach, and a jack-pike, and as happy as a lark… until I turned around to mix some more bait, and there, straight in front of me, was the biggest brown bull I have ever seen. He was stood staring at me, with steam coming out of his nose, not moving at all!

I very slowly and gently packed up my gear, and crept towards the gate in the field… as I started to climb over the gate the beast sprang into life, snorted, and came for me! I threw my tackle over the gate, and followed it post haste. How the gate did not collapse when the bull ran into it I do not know.

Then I realised I’d taken the wrong gate out of the field, and now faced a marathon walk, carrying all my tackle down to a bridge, and back up the other bank to get to the van.

The next day after enjoying the booze, darts, dominoes, the lads telling the locals of me escapade with the bull, much hilarious laughter and ribaldry, then fish & chips the night before, we departed the inn, to travel home.

Another lively but disappointing holiday. (Tsk!)