Now, there’s no comparison twixt the above two,
Albert is dead; Inchcock is in the queue…
Both smoked a pipe, Erinmore honeydew,
Violence, they both tried to eschew,
Albert was very clever, too…
Inchie also had thoughts, but very few…
He can’t get them to do what he wants them to,
He still struggles with his toilet tissue issue!

Alto-Inchie on Inchcocks Waking & Rising

Once woken, he works out what time and day is dawning,
A wee-wee will be needed, while he’s still yawning,
Check what ailments are most perturbing…
If any clothes are on, he’ll start disrobing…
The fungal lesion will be bleeding or throbbing,
Arthur Itis, Reflux Roger and Ann Gyna may be stinging…
With doing the ablutions, he’ll start grappling,
Little Inchie, embarrassingly like a watercress sapling,
The constant wee-wees, flowing then ebbing…
Porcelain Throne time, so he starts the divebombing,

Having cleaned as best, he can,
Medicationalisationings is his plan,
He does so sometimes painfully, others with elan,
Gets his medications from off of the Ottoman…
Sprays, drops, creams, ointments, some vegetarian!

Stops any bleeding with Brute aftershave, and then began…
Little Inchies Fungal lesion cleaning, a delicate organ!
Tea made, he awaits his carer whichever, Julia or Megan,
Falls asleep and dreams of a two-headed Martian!

Alto-Inchie Observes

This morning’s ablutions got Inchcock to his bolshiest…
The Porcelain Throne did not clear; this did not please!
Five times the water in the tank was replaced…
Struggling to get the lid back on, his lesion began to bleed,
Eventually, the evacuated product blockage was freed,
But he banged his knee, and this he didn’t need!
And for some reason, he peed and peed and peed!

Alto-Inchie on Inchcocks Activities

Inchcock grabbed his Canon, camera,
Into the balcony, he did manoeuvre…

To his amazement… the rusty red van had parked almost between the lines in the proper place, and not on his beloved yellow chevrons! On closer inspection, Inchcock realised some else had parked in his illegal corner on the hatched area, forcing him to try and park his van in the car park – which he very nearly managed between the white guidelines. Haha!,

Mayhaps this time, he returned being sober?
Although he did park correctly last October!

Alto-Inchie: Inchcock Cooks!

Inchcock prepped the meal for Josie, and takes a wee,
Get the ingredient together properly,
Then he fell over majestically…
Well, at least acrobatically…
Now he has a freshly swollen knee…
Arthur Itis hurting, which is obligatory…
He got the chilli-stew cooking, not hassle-free!
Then his Sister rang he…
Then he fell over majestically…
Well, at least acrobatically…
Now he has a freshly swollen knee…
Arthur Itis hurting, which is obligatory…
He got the chilli-stew cooking, not hasslefree!.

Sister Jane and Inchcock, nattered away free…
Until he smelt something burning, to the kitchen he did flee…
Spilt over stew, it was as if the 1812 overture by Tchaikovsky,
Had entered his head, as he panicked, profusely!
He cleaned things up, started again; and felt glee…
He even swore at me!

Alto-Inchie: Handouts in Thanks

He sorted his freebies out, updated, some new,
Including the Mojito ones, he read as Cocktail,
Then found they were non-alcoholic… Wail!
He was fooled by the microscopic printing, that said Mocktail
Still, some of the Nurses and Carers don’t like ale…

Alto-Inchie:

He got Josie’s nosh done and tasted, luck did prevail,
An Accifauxpas delivery route did entail…
He stubbed his toe against the heater rail…
He arrived at Josie’s door feeling frail…
As it opened, he saw she looked hearty and hale!
So with a smile and some banter, he did regale…
Glad she looked so well, chattering he had to curtail…
Cheerily wished all the best, to his nightingale,
Off for another wee-wee he did bail!

Alto-Inchie: Inchcock Broods For A While – Then Brews

A memory shot into his brain, he was mortified,
The thought of The Meadows where he lived…
He supposes the old houses had to be sacrificed,
They were decrepit, with rats, fleas and mice…
Must seem bad to folks; he thought they were nice…
As having alopecia, chickenpox, pneumonia, polio and lice?
We were all poor, sickly, but not at all mystified,
When yet another child got ill and died…
We helped each other, we were unified…
A family of thousands, with fear, denied!

Inchcock made a Glengettie brew,
Feeling better now, well he would do…
Tea can be good for you…

Alto-Inchie: Inchcock’s Ablutionings

WHOOPSIEDANGLEPLOP!

Computer playing up – I think the end is nigh!

I’ll try to post this.