I’d hoped that today would be something of a breakthrough… The end of two days of Accifauxpas & Whoopsidangeplops, too! Although the cock-ups today have been less, by a few, And my panics, worries, I have managed to subdue, The expectancy of more bother dwells in every sinew! And the Thought Storms still rage; it’s a mental stew!
The postman called, told me that £10.50 postage was due, A parcel from Amazon, underpaid, so it must be by you! Well, that’ll leave me with little monetary residue… It was only a jug of sauce too – Hickory smoked barbecue, It cost about a tenner, for Amazon’s revenue!… Now I’ve paid £20 quid plus for it, should I sue? I’ll get it wrong, whatever I try to do… Amazon, double the cost, so much for their value!
I sometimes wish that I was in Timbuktu, I wish I still had my beloved Justy, a Suburu, I wished I’d learnt how to play the didgeridoo, I’m glad I bought diabetic socks, made of bamboo,
I wish I had less bother when taking a poo-poo! I wish it wasn’t so painful when using the loo, Taking a leak so often is another issue… Haemorrhoids are bleeding, well, that’s what they do, Always with a mess to clean from the residue,
Still, I’ve got over my last tumble well, Phew! I like to think I’m a man of virtue, I should look up what it means, I ought to, Peripheral Neuropathy problems continue, As the Doctor said, ‘There’s nothing we can do!’
Enough of this self-pity and feeling blue! Time to cheer up… I know, I’ll put on my pink tutu? Make a mug of Glengettie, it’s made my Typhoo, No time left to be depressed at this venue… Contentment, hopes, laughter, I shall imbue, Next week, flue jab, dentist and Audio clinic too! I hope I get to them on time, when due… Note to self: depression you must discontinue!
How, you ask? Well, let’s have a review… Imagine you’re out in the sunshine at the bayou, If you were there, what’d you like to do? I told myself, have a bowl of jelly or Irish stew… Then have a pipe of Erinmore mixture, honeydew, I answered myself, that’s daft, baccy’s been barred for you! Jelly’s too sweet, and Irish stew is fattening for too!
I was getting fed up with myself; an argument was due… So, can I eat yoghourt or tofu, But I ignored myself and withdrew… Went off to the Porcelain Throne set-to… Now, if the end to this ode confuses you, It does me, too… am I missing a screw? Thank You!
Part Of The Inchcock Today Make-Em-Laugh Ode Series
Then got the potatoes, boiled with balsamic vinegar,
And a spot of Worcester sauce, & a pinch of demerara sugar,
They’ll do for later if I remember the bugger,
With the chilli, and put on some more sauce, tartar?
Titivated the kitchenette, dropped a jam jar!
An excellent job that it wasn’t the caviar!
The jar didn’t break, and it missed my feet…
Things were going well, all seemed alreet,
Off to the computer with a mug of tea, took a seat,
I even nibbled some biscuits, wholewheat!
The landline rangeth, the Amazon man, a right pain!
T’was then that my good luck, nosedived again!
We couldn’t understand what each other said,
So I went down to meet and talk to him instead,
His English was better than my Afghanistani,
But he left me, in the lurch, there was no barny…
He abandoned the food with me in the lift foyer, the Git!
I had to get the parcels into the lift, and I wasn’t fit…
Back up to the 12th-floor, struggled to get the bags out,
Then had to get them into the lobby,
Then into the flats lobby,
Then into the flat,
Then the hallway…
Then the kitchen, my energy drained away!
Next, the swearing started, I have to say!
The Git had put bleach in, it leaked, had to throw my bananas away!
The baguette buggered, utter dismay!
Tomatoes crushed, and I was feeling bushed!
Honey yogourts pot fell apart; I was further crushed!
Got the salvaged food sorted,
I was pissed off; I felt like I’d been ambushed!
The cooked ham was crumbs and crushed!!!
I was feeling despondent, to say the least!
Can’t see myself enjoying tonight’s feast!
Got the fodder all sorted… What was eatable anyway!
I was determined to get the treats out today for those who have helped me out over the year. Jenny, Norah and Frank, and Obergruppenfürher Deana and Obersturmbannfuhreress Julie, the ILCs (Indeependent Living Coordinators) at the flats. I rang them both to tell them I’d be coming down later to see if it was alright, as they may have been busy. Recorded messages on both phones that told me they must be busy. So I’ll get the goodies sorted out and go to Jenny then to the office with them.
As I was going out of the door, struggling a little with the walker-trolley, the postman came into the foyer. Oh, dearie me! This sounds like it may be a con-job?
An official-looking brown envelope, a white one, and then he handed me an ‘insufficient postage bill for nearly £11 for something that has been sent to me?
He kindly offered to ask his boss if he could pay for it for me, get the ‘parcel’, and I can refund him, and he’ll bring it in the morning. I was dubious, as I don’t think ~I am expecting anything through the post? Anyway, I thanked him and took him up on his generous offer for me, with a certain feeling of doom.
The white envelope was from Meridian, three A4 pages, about my Christmas needs for carers, Logging-in, Shadowing & Spot Checks, McMillan Charity Ball, On Call Centre procedure, and a Service-User Forum Wednesday 8th December at Foxton Gardens.
I didn’t over concentrate on owt, but the dodgy sounding parcel postage cost thingy. Then thought I’d try ringing the Wardens again, let them know I was coming down to see them and ask if they could have a look at the Social Services letter for me.
Finally, I got back to the walker-trolley of goodies, of off down to Jenny’s. On the way down, I thought to myself… well, I felt sorry for myself, really. Everything suddenly going into panic mode; surely things must calm down now… Hahahahahaha! Crap!
I called at Jenny’s flat, rang the bell and knocked on the door, and returned to the lift.
Down and into the connecting corridor with Winwood Court.
Called at the Wardens Interrogation and Body Search Room and dropped off the nibbles. Dean checked the Attendance forms for me, and I signed them. At last, something was going right – Hey-Ho! Little did I know what Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops still awaited me yet!
Then realised I had not put the prescriptions list in the envelope.
Back up and down in the lift again, and down to Deana.
Gawd, it did! I thanked Deana and hobbled out of the Winwood Court foyer, the first time I’ve been in the fresh air for months now, I think… But it proved to be a hazard ridden journey to the post-box to mail the letter… Just when I stupidly thought things were getting better again…
Unbeknownst to me, the wind was howling out there, and it whipped the envelope and paperwork out of my hand, high up in the sky, swirling around and then seemed to turn back in my direction, falling down in the car park twixt the vehicles. So, if it had blown off again, I would not have seen it again… Semi-panic mode engaged. I pursued the envelope and had to search a bit to find it. Still, the relief when I saw it trapped in between the branches of a bush was welcomed, even more so when I managed to get at it in time before it flew off into the clouds again!
I limped hastily as I could to the mailbox, checked the envelope, and posted it; thank heavens for that. Although, my EQ told me it would not have mattered, because as the voice said: “You ain’t going to get no financial help, any and either way, cocker!” Which was a smidge disheartening, bearing in mind EQ has never been wrong with his forecasts… no, I tell a lie, sorry. He was once, just the one time.
I hobbled back inside and just had to tell Deana what had happened. At least she got to laugh out loud before going home for the weekend, bless her. Hehe!
I set off along the link corridor and got to the connecting door.
Boy, did I feel a fool!
I could feel the key fob in my jacket pocket, but could I find a way in to get it? No! I assumed it had gone through the lining of one of the pouches. Back through link passage and to Deana, thinking she may have some scissors for me to use, to cut through the pocket.
Within a few seconds of investigating the jacket pocket for me, Deana put on a broad grin – that I believe actually said, “What a pillock!” As she pointed out that the sleeveless coat had two pockets on either side, one behind the other!
I blushed, felt the pillock above, thanked her, and scurried away in embarrassment and fast as I could… back, yet again along the corridor.
The hobble back into Woodthorpe was masked by the deep and genuine worry about what the hell am I doing? Since retirement, nothing going right, or even things going wrong, has been a part of my life, but I am not coping so well with things nowadays.
The trip up in the lift left little recollections of anything. I should have guessed that Dizzy Dennis and Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley were about to erupt; the hassle for such a long time nearly always ends in a tumble or similar – this time was no different, I’m afraid; Well, it was actually.
The haze came over me as I began to push the trolley through to the lobby from the cage. I gave myself such a bash on the right shoulder; it knocked me sideways, I clouted my back on the other side of the lift, and I went down, almost in slow motion!
My Luck Changed!
I had no idea who it was, but a bloke came out of the end flats and got me up on my feet again. See, I am fortunate sometimes. I think he knew me cause he guided me back to the flat and helped get the trolley in for me. Not sure what we spoke about, but I think we did have a natter.
I made a brew of Glengettie Gold and sat down doing absolutely nothing, but fretting of course. Nodded off for ten minutes. Woke up in need of a wee-wee and felt so much better, then? Back-Pain-Brenda was the main pain-giver, but you can’t blame her after that little backwards tumble. Hahaha! I made another drink, and took a Cocodamal, then got on with updating this blog. I hadn’t really realised how late it was, although with all the palaver I should have expected it, the Evening Carer arrived.
It was Helen. After she’d done the medications, it was she who told me what a terrible day she’s been having. Bless her! When I related my day so far and showed Helen the photographs (I was still doing the blog updating when she arrived), She did laugh! Which was good cause it might have cheered her up a smidgeon, I hope.
I realised that I could not find the Warfarin card anywhere. Mmm? Mayhaps I dropped it when I collapsed on my rump? I went to check in the elevator cage. Nope!
Summat else to worry about now, Tsk! I got back in the front room and was going to do another search of the multi-pocketed jacket… when… I spotted it on the carpet underneath the computer cabinet.
I pressed on with this blog updating, and woe of woes, I got as far as I heard and realised it was almost midnight! I’d better get something to eat… ah, yes, the chilli and the crushed brochette, or whatever its name is, bread to me.
While doing the cooking, it was complicated for an old chap, like what I am. Some done in the crock-pot, chilli-con-carne on the saucepan on the hob, and wedges in the microwave, and as for all the cleaning up afterwards… Humph! Where was I?
Oh, yes, I took photographicalisations of the night sky.
Part Of The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woes – With Odes Series.
Last evening, my beautiful Caring Carer, Julia and I made a plan to enable my escape from this lockdown in the flat, and get outside, and have a hobble into Sherwood! Thus I can avoid the Obergruppenfhüreress’s and Lap-Top Dancers, Deana and Julie, on my way out!
After Julia had tended to my medicationalisationing, she asked me the questions about what meds I’d taken other the those on the list, filled in her report(That’s the one that no one has ever read yet!).Checked on the supply of drugs in the kitchenette drawer, she explained her plan for my escape from the lockdown. Julie departed, taking the waste bags with her, to the rubbish chute for me. Bless her cotton socks! And leaving an elderly dithering tenant, feeling sad at her departure.(I always think this way when a good, kind carer goes me, Tsk!) I decided to write down the scheme for Wednesdays Great Escape to Sherwood! I had a sense, a feeling, that Julia’s ideas were going to be so doable and workable.
Unfortunately, within seconds of the Carers’ departure, I had an unwelcome ‘Haze-Over’ attack. Not sure how long it lasted, but I seem to have lost possibly a couple of hours of memory.(Although they did partly return in the morning, which is not a rarity) Later on, I found myself sitting in the recliner with the TV on. With crumbs over my large blobby-like belly (bits of Twiglets in the folds? As I woke and returned to life, of sorts, I was feeling great! Almost clear-headed. And I soon worked out that I still had time to catch the bus down to Sherwood… But, no!
Closing down the computer to get things ready for my breakout, I saw several emails coming in. One from Amazon, concerning two deliveries, the one in the photo was the tracking of the Morrison delivery, which I was confident that I’d made it for next week… It was apparently just a few minutes away from being delivered. The other regarding deliveries that are due tomorrow… This put the kybosh on my escaping today and now tomorrow as well! Obviously, another Whoopsiedangleplop on my behalf!
Hello, the delivery is here now…I’ll be back…
Hehehe! I’m back! A young lady delivered the four parcels of fodder, putting them through the doorway for me. I fell in love with her straight away, had it not been that I am about 60 years older than what she looked, six inches shorter, wore PPs, was bald, sight-impaired, deaf, and nearly as attractive to women as Lillie Savage… I momentarily thought about asking her if she fancied a cuddle, massage or petting… but I thought better of it no point in risking prison at my time of life.
I thanked her, and off she shot. I took the bags through to the kitchenette, and I popped into the wet room for a wee-wee.
And this one was one of the worst I’ve suffered for flipping weeks, or even longer!
I tore at my clothing to get at Little Inchie, dropped the trees on the floor, and prepared for the torrent to come…
But it didn’t! I could feel the urine building up increasingly more painful pressure… all I could do was wait for it to do its own thing – any pushing from me was just unbearably hurtful, so I waited…
And waited a little longer. Sang a song, whistled, prayed… Eventually, it felt like a couple of days later, the tsunami evacuated! Agony! Whoosh! Splashback like never before, I had to take a shower to clean up my anaemic looking flabby body and then get the wet room disinfected. I now seriously fear the next wee-wee session! But the relief when it had finally passed almost sent me dizzy, if that’s the word.
Now, having spent an hour or so weeing and sorting things out, I realised that the frozen food in with the other groceries will not be frozen any longer! I hastened to get at it as quickly as I could to get in the freezer.
I gave the big toe a bashing against the server trolley wheel – Now I’m getting annoyed with things!
However, I continued to get the purchases away, starting with the now unfrozen frozen foods. Luckily, there were only two frozen items, well, previously frozen items to go in the freezer. The now liquid in the bag Twister lollies, and a box of beef in gravy, I poured them into the freezer… A joke there, did you see that? Despite such a bad morning, I’m intent on keeping up my pecker! Although, I am not too confident of my chances after the next wee-wee arrives. Ahem!
The sight of the ready-made meals brought a warm glow to my stomach. WW Chillie and wedges, Roast Vegetable Risotto, and the Chicken dinner substituted with Beef & Black beans, Shepherd’s pie, and Creamy Chicken & Leek. Even though they had not got any of those, I ordered, and they were all substituted. Morrison Cottage pie, by Kirsty’s red potato Cottage Pie (might be nice that?).
Not that I seemed bothered this time, the memory of the disastrous tsunami-wee-out now! Imagine that happening when I was out and about! The thought of it makes me shudder!
Haha! The fridge stocks are looking healthier now, anyway. Milk, bread in the freezer, I’ll certainly not starve for a bit.
Took this shot of the end car park through the balcony window. It was far too windy for me to open the window.
Oh, oh, I want another pee! With apprehension, I took it. Well, well well, what a difference that was! Heavy flow, but nothing oke as vicious as the last one was! I was delighted with the improvement and almost total lack of any pain. Shame about the lengthy PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling).
Views From The Kitchenette Window
I viewed the colourful evening skies,
Somehow they appeared to be wise,
And I observed clouds like eyes,
Winter’s coming; I’ll need to acclimatise!
The photo above, lips and two eyes, large in size,
Those clouds make me want to enigmatise?
I find myself also wanting to somatise,
Natures beauty makes me realise…
Mankind knows nothing, weather forecasts-wise,
I see amazing skies, from this flat in the highrise,
These views make me want to prioritise…
To stop, look, dream, and rhapsodise!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Hunger Pangs Satisfied
Made some cheesy instant mash potato and two beef pasties and plated them. Dolloped some Hickory Smoked BBQ sauce and a few slices of bread. A pot of custard & jelly (Classy, innit?), and another pot of lemon mousse. Nowt fanciful on that plate, but I ate the lot. Taste Rating 7.2/10.
Part Of The Nottingham Lads True Tales Of Woe Series
Would You Adopt Someone Who Listens To Music by Ivor Novello?
A slightly sub-standard, bald, 75-year-old, born in a bordello, A life-long Nottinghamian, with an IQ of barely above zero, A recovering alcoholic, stroke and cardiac victim, and dipso, A short chubby, well-bellied little thing has his own yo-yo, Hoping that someone can show him how to use it, you know! Inchcock has a thing for Marilyn Monroe, although… His doing anything about this have long gone, thus his yo-yo! He can cook, drop things, walk into them, oh, and he’s a Virgo!
He Falls over frequently, but with help, gets up, giving it another go, In many ways, he plods on with his ailments; he’s a bit of a hero! At least the last time we spoke at the hospital, he told me so, He’ll tell you of when he climbed to the top of Kilimanjaro, But in reality, it was a steep hill in Ludlow, And, he drove up the mountain, in his Triumph Toledo! Vascula Dementia confuses him; I think he still has some gusto… For the ladies, but sadly, his desires have long been fallow, But he does like a pot or slice of cake or a limoncello.
His momentary spells of reality sadden him; he feels low, What’s happening to him in old age, he doesn’t want to know, Back into his deep mental haze, he’s a semi-contented fellow, Talk to him gently, and he’ll get the message, Roger-Wilko, Owt you want him to do will usually follow, Even if his words seem bewildering and hollow, There will be times when he seems bright and tally-ho! Don’t miss his medications whatever you do, though!
Ablutioning-wise, especially shaving, the blood will flow… Neuropathy diagnosed, amazingly he can be a cheery bloke, Occasionally, he thinks he’s Clint Eastwood or El Zorro, His neuropathy has shaken his right side since the stroke, He tries to stay calm and can start the day being mellow!
He still cooks, using black bean sauce and BBQ, even Tabasco, Now he knows the firemen by name, Colin, Brian and Joe, Please, don’t let him run-free in Aldi, Sainsbury’s or Tesco, He’ll panic if he can’t find you and may freeze, ipso facto! Please forgive any of his mishaps or unintended peccadillo. If you do misplace him, just call the police or a medico. But operating the TV remote control, he’s messy & ultraslow,
His confidence is getting low; of course, it will not regrow, Like certain body parts that hang below… At least he’s stopped wearing his bra and using eye shadow, His new Protection Pants have saved many a fiasco! He uses his picker-upper to retrieve things dropped below, And is contented to on DVD, his 1960’s TV shows!
He’s harmless to anyone else, this I can guarantee, Making others happy and smile is his forte, He shows no signs of toxicity and has congeniality, He can’t help forever going for a wee-wee… And he would like someone to adopt him, desperately, He realises this would not come for free… But has a limited amount of money, Which he doesn’t find very funny, He is totally free of hate and is never sarkie! So, if possible, can you help and make him your adoptee? He makes a great mug of Glengettie tea!
I dreamt of playing for the school at football, I couldn’t dribble or kick a ball, but that didn’t matter at all, The pneumonia epidemic had stuck in the fall, Not many players are well enough and available at all, Then, from desperation, the coach did call! You’re in the team, cup match, we need a win, vital, Having to ask me, I knew he felt contemptible.
I dare not let them down, or I’d suffer a keelhaul, Matchday, I arrived first, at my 4’3″ tall, Regarding the rules, my knowledge was minimal, Cold, raining, and then the fog began to fall… Players, neither team had the wherewithal.
An eight-a-side to play agreement was made We took to the field, the rain began to squall, “You’re in goal Chambers!” Any position I’ll be ineffectual, I jumped but couldn’t reach the crossbar at all, What an introduction to school football!
The fog got heavier, and the coaches got conflictual, We were down 13-0, the coach said it was only 12! A fight ensued, but injuries were only minimal, They decided to go into the gym, to play football, When we got inside, and we’d lost some footfall… Lads from both sides absconded, no longer visual, Anyway, someone had nicked the ball!
Part Of The Nottingham Lads Tales Of Woe – In bad Rhyme Series
Did I have it in the first place, though? I started going loopy about 70 years ago, Long before I attained the shape of a rhino, My voice then would have been falsetto, I ate ice cream, long before they made the Cornetto, I lived in a terraced house, in the Meadows ghetto, No hot water, inside loo, no electricity until 1952, Mother was the pushy one, scared me stiff… a virtuoso, But the police were after her, run away, she had to go, In winter, ice on every cracked or broken window, Twelve years of tripping over the warped lino.
Dad said, we need money; I’ve got some jobs for you! Two paper rounds, a Saturday job, that’s just a few! After school, I rush home; here’s what I’d do, Clean and set the fire, and make Dad some stew, He could be home six o’clock, or a quarter to two, No time to play, but I did pray for a TV to view! Never got one, of course, but one was always due, Not that I had the time anyway, with the cleaning up to do!
Got a job, two guineas a week, got a flat, although… I got impetigo, got thrown out, so off I had to go… Playing solo Ludo… it wasn’t terrific, you know! But I got into digs, full board… and found myself aglow, The landladies daughters, things unknown to me they did show! I was proud and macho, every night, with Madge and or Margo… Showed me the best ways to keep from feeling low! Lessons that even today, I’m glad I did undergo, More later, time to take my medications now – Hoho!
Things are really’ altering so fast, This used to be compared to the distant past, The gap is getting shorter now; how much longer can we last? At social events, people still get stabbed and glassed, Anit-maskers march, after getting amassed, Planes and cars still get hijacked, A record number of sex offenders surpassed, Jokes, affection, empathy are wisecracked, NHH actions towards the wealthy are biased!
Doctors visits, Banking one on one have to cease! NHS underfunded, on purpose, I believe, Old folks charged for carers; it’s beyond belief! £70 million, and wages for Ronaldo – Good Grief! And some old folks living on a lettuce leaf!
Only the rich remain unharassed… Most of them dodgy and bad-assed! The roads crumbling, not being tarmacked, Burglars, homes still being ransacked, Prisoners getting free medical care, But for that, I care, I do not despair, Father Villani says God is everywhere, But he doesn’t believe in Jesus, drives me spare!
Kids are no longer clipped around the ear or paddy-whacked, But that may be a good thing, in fact? Politicians with their problem so vast… Their expenses? Anyone checking on them here and there? Does the auspicious Tony Blair… Still, wear a pink brassiere?
Part of the Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe In Rhyme (Of sorts)
By A Particularly Confused Inchcock, tonight?
Slightly depressed, wee-weeing an awful lot. Lonely and sad. Pissed-off. Fungal Lesion Bleeding. And generally feeling so sorry for himself.