Inchcock – Saturday 21st March 2020: The sausage stew, as the highlight of the day!

2020 Mar 21

The Limited period was approx. 2 Cornavirus stampeding hoarders minutes! Haha!

2020 tttMar21

Saturday 21st March 2020

Welsh: Dydd Sadwrn 21ain Mawrth 2020

000 Mar 21

GM brown L06:05hrs: with staying awake so long for the expected Amazon delivery (that didn’t come), after getting ETA’s via emails, that grew later and later, then getting the refund details, meant a sadly early morning time before I dare nod off. But, after so many bad sleepless nights, and it being morning by the time I got off, I managed six-hours of slumber.

I woke to feel in surprisingly decent form for once? Confused in mind, of course, but physically, almost good! (Which soon changed, [naturally!])

WD 60.25.0 6Sat02Off with a degree of ease, to the kitchen. Got the kettle on, and popped back to the balcony to take a shot of the late (to me) morning sunshine. The cold sunshine was bright this weekend day, but barely any people or vehicles about anywhere. For this time on a Saturday, there were not many dog walkers out, either? They will probably be forming a herd of Toilet Roll seeking gangs to attack the shops? Hehe!

The camera seemed to be changing shooting modes on its own accord? This annoyed me so much, and my mood began to change? I was no longer in an accepting trait state of mind. I became passionless, unresponsive to things going on and around me. This soon changed!

6Sat01 WD 60.25.0f I got the old larger mug out of the draining tray, just as Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley hit me. I might have caught it to prevent it from hitting the floor and breaking, but Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failed, the resulting Fauxpas really got me going! I was steaming mad with myself, ultra-angry, and muttering naughty language!

6Sat04I’d had this pottery mug for about eighteen years, and thought of history disappearing, fate, and having to put up with a tormenting frustrating old age, and, ailments to contend with, brought on Dark Depression Deepak, he was so cold, deep, and despairing, and lingered for a while to torment me. Leaving a sort of psychological block, an impasse that inhibited logical thoughts, and took me an age to get free of. Can all this happen, or be caused by breaking an admittedly loved old drinking vessel?

6Sat03I got the Inchcock menu of vegetable stew going in the crock-pot. Turnips, leeks, mushrooms, parsnips, red and onion, sliced some red and plain onions and sliced carrots into it, I’ll add some sugar snap peas later. Seasoned today with, light soy sauce, malt vinegar, sea salt and a small jar of black bean sauce. I avoided potatoes and will have no bread with it, this is partly due to my keeping to the new diet so conscientiously and dedicatedly, and my not having any bread left! Hahaha! I had a lick of the wooden spoon when stirring it on and off during the morning. Maybe it will prove a little too hot for my tastes. Fingers crossed it comes out eatable. I’m getting very adventuristic with my cooking lately?

Deep Deepak Depression was soon easing of a tad. Then the summoning to the wet room came from the suddenly rumbling and churning innards. So, I checked the taps and pans, and off I went.

Well, what an embarrassing change of style session that was! Back to the beef-ball sized none-messy, but hard to evacuate type, like a few months ago. Still, the lack of any streaky mess meant it was easier to clean up afterwards, no bleeding from anywhere, and I got two answers on the crossword book perusing. All good there, then!

7Sun01I very belatedly got the computer going. But found myself with a lack of concentration, and I seemed to be jumping from one thing to another. I had an email from Amazon, the Tork toilet-rolls order had been cancelled, a waffling unworkoutable message told me why this had happened. I assume it was their way of avoiding saying, not available?

Although the finger-nerves were working much better this morning, Shaking-Shoulder-Shirly, the as-yet, unnamed new left side chest pains, and Saccades Sandra, seemed to be having a battle with each other over which one comes out on top, in the ‘Let’s give Inchcock some hassle’ stakes. They all seemed pretty productive to me! Swine!

I went to make another brew, and the noises from somewhere were like giant Woodpeckers occasionally. Accompanied naturally, by ‘The Hum’!

6Sat05I had to do some graphics up first, or I wouldn’t have got anything done. I kept jumping from CorelDraw to Google, then WordPress and back all the time. And made many errors in doing so. But on this occasion, there was no temptation to get wee’d-off or annoyed with myself at all. I just pressed on, getting into a more significant state of confusion, as to what I had done and needed doing? It’s very saddening, lugubrious and piteous to see me in this way, and yet, perhaps just for today, I pressed on merrily away – unconcerned! No fretting, worrying… This is not normal, you know!

Jane rang, she did just before, but I could hear nothing and thought it was another the Con-Job calls claiming to be from BT and telling I need urgent attention to my BT internet connection. I rang-off straight away. Anyway, our Jane rang back. Because it was six hours plus late for my usual posting the ‘Inchcock Today’, she’d rang to see if all was okay. We had a natter and laugh and moan.

Afterwards, I stopped this blog here and went to the updating of the Friday one. I’m all confused with the staying awake till gone midnight, and getting up later than I have ever done for years! Ah, well, must get on with it. Back later…

Crikey, that took some time to get done. Then I went on the WordPressREader Section, some good stuff on again for perusing, written and photographically. Then onto Pinterest. Followed by four hours on the TFZer Facebooking.

The stew is not done yet, so I turned it up, and started to update this page.

6Sat28Checked on the stew, and it looked and tasted ready to be served up as I licked my gravy covered fingers getting in the bowl – a smidge overly seasoned, though. Tsk!

A well-worthy 7/10, all the same.The slightly overcooked sourdough baguette, Great!

Washed the pots and me up, and got my gigundous-stomached ailing body down in the £300 second-hand, c1968, unstable,  recliner, and the TV on.

My recent spate of sleep deprivation helped me nod-off quicker than usual, and I slept right through for, wait for it… Seven-hours! Mind you, it was well-needed!  

Viel Glück für Sie über den Äther, Mes Amies.

Yes, I had use the Google translator!

Coronavirus Calypso

A spur of the moment, impulse, load of drivel, created, as Inchcock woke up. He asked me to pass on his apologies, as he was temporarily in Defcon 2 mode, mentally.

5Fri007c

Remember These? Of course, the hoarders will!

Coronavirus Calypso

Going into self-isolation,
As is most of the nation,
To get the toilet rolls in?
The chances? None to thin,
Coronavirus, payment for our sin?

Tellurians, you must not bump into,
Tatterdemalion or the well-to-do,
Urges to touch, you must subdue,
Cut your hair in a basin cut hair-do,
Having sex is still under review!
But pigeons can still bill and coo?

No food in the shops,
Bread, milk, you might find a few,
You’ll have to fight and argue,
Battle with the determined queue,
Then blood and insults will spew,
The language was very blue!

You might try home delivery for food,
To sustain you and your brood,
If you do try home delivery food!
To the delivery man, do not be rude,

Self-isolation; is wrong, some folk argue,
But I’ll not be involved over this, thank-you,
HMG responses seem so impromptu,
Certainly going to cost us revenue,

Self-isolation, so many folk rue,
A bit of good news is overdue,
Confusion over what we must do,
We mustn’t shake hands too!
Is mankind’s end really in view?

Stuck at home, what do we do?
Clean shelves and dust that statue,
Pen some extra veins to your tattoo,
No food in, so no chocolate to chew,
Can’t get out to buy, so no making stew,
Your plans and orientation, gone askew!

Sit, read a book, perhaps of Fu Manchu,
Back of the fridge, mouldy Danish blue?
You’re starving now, crumbs for tea, that’ll do!
Dig around the sofa, for crisp-crumbs residue!
The nurse’s visit cancelled too,
Mind froze, stagnated, what will ensue?

Where is the spirit of World War Two?
Is it the end, will you ever again hear a cuckoo?
Is it to be, that you’ll not see another cup of tea?
Farewell, to your beloved tasty Glengettie brew?
Your mind gets depressed, whatever can you do?
Finally, you get a plan made and worked through!

Escape! Find food, and hopefully, a toilet roll too!
Your plan to go shopping, sanctioned by the Tenant’s escape crew,
How to get out though, whatever can you do?
They don you with a wig, to hide your bald head from view,
You know you may not return, but offer your neighbours, a thank-you,
Creep out, staying in the shadows, your walking stick oiled too,
Arrive at the store, but what a sight greets you…

Header7

But it’s the future, your deja vu, hitherto!

Empty shelves, fighting, greed, at Sainsbury’s too!
Little fresh food, no toilet rolls, not even a tissue!
This is now a serious issue,
You give an Achoo – but ominously, nobody blesses you!

WDP 003a

Published in Support of the Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society