Inchcock: Diary-Belated Photographicalisations 1.2

Including revelations from Inchcock’s past!

Oh, yes! and an Ode, too!

A mixed bag of Moon pictures from the kitchenette window.

I tried both cameras as well. Only the last one was any good. Hehehe! There were plenty of absolute failures taken, though.

Peripheral Neuropathy Pete struck at just the wrong time again! He’s clever at doing that, a cunning ailment indeed! Haha! I was just pouring the boiled water into the mug to make my Glengettie brew!

Memory Prompting old snap!


If I recall correctly (I sometimes do), this was taken in the back yard of Co-op Grocery store number 118. Arleston Drive, in Wollaton. I started there as Greengrocery Manager. During the happiest working days of my life! Boss, store Manager, Mr Morris. Got up to Assistant Manager of the store… and made a terrible choice, in accepting a job in Beeston, as the Greenfruit – Wet Fish shop manager. I often wondered over the years what would or could have happened career-wise if I’d stayed in Grocery as Mr Morris’ second man. Cause the Greater Nottingham Co-op got a new chairman, who unfortunately oversaw the retail foods departments. He closed the bakery, the cobblers (shoe repairers), and opened Superstores, the first being in Trowel, a couple of miles away from Lily Grove, where my shop was situated. Of course, they had lower prices, and my sales went down 33% the week the store opened! So… they closed it, along with many more small retail outlets.

The real sadness was that when I first saw him at the next shop, I was put in, another one due for closure, on Nuthall Road. I’d increased sales at that shop, mainly the wet fish sales, they were up 45%. But meeting him brought out the hatred for him in me. He was a smug know-all. I made it worse when he asked where I got catfish from. I picked up what he thought was catfish, told him I get it from Rossfish in the market – and told him, “It’s not catfish, it’s called Dogfish!” With all his conies and bum-lickers with him, this did not go down too well with his ego! Me laughing might have made things worse. After that, the hatred was mutual.

Until the new Superstore opened, a Bulwell Superstore, half a mile away! I was trying to sell cod fillets at 3/6d a pound, and the Superstore was retailing at 2/- lb! I was doomed!

He made my life a misery for years! When I moved to Tesco, I prayed he’d call in to laugh me off, but he didn’t. Probably just as well; it may have saved him from a few broken teeth and me from a prison sentence! Gawd, I was livid at the man!

But all came good years later, the Greater Nottingham Cooperative Society went bust! Hahahahahahahaha! The Co-operative Wholesale Society bought them out, and the first thing they did was close his miracle superstores! But I’d like to have seen him once more, just to laugh in his fat superior face! Still, that’s enough of that!

♫ Food, Glorious Food ♫

Just look at the healthy foodstuffs I had delivered! Bananas, Baked bean & cheese pasties, Cheese twists, fresh garden peas from Nicaragua. Potato and leek pie! Only one packet of smoked bacon this week. Apple pies instead of cream cakes? I did overdo the lemon & lime possets, I admit. Well, they were half-price!

Getting the fodder into the fridge, a minor calamity took place. As I took this photo above, the possets fell off the shelf, one hitting the corner of the drawer below and chipping some plastic off of it… I hastened to make sure that the other jars were safe from falling further…

I trod on the splinter of plastic! Well, the blood flowed! It messed my socks, feet, slippers and the freshly mopped floor. But did I swear and curse? Of course, I did!

I was in the middle of sorting things out. I’d done the floor, and I was in the wet room, tending to the feet and socks and a change of clothes. I thought I’d heard a bell or chime from somewhere? I limped naked into the front room and had missed a call on the mobile, so I rang the number back. The Hairdressers in Winwood Court also do chiropody, telling me my appointment to have the plates done; it was in 20 minutes!

I was a little flummoxed as I rushed to get the dressing done, got the trousers on, left the socks for Sarah to put on for me after doing my feet, checked things for safety, no taps running, owt on the stove etc. and fell chuffed as I left the flat, thinking I can just make it in time…

As I got to the lift, a chap from the other end smiled at me… and said, “You know you’ve got your pyjama bottoms on?” Der!!! I replied that I do now, thanks!

Scrambled back into the apartment, changed into the trousers, and legged it to the hair salon as fast as possible. I may have been a minute or two late. Judging by the glaring look that I got when I entered, possibly a little longer. Oh dearie me! But it got worse… I had the feet done, then slipped her a can of G&T in thanks, and started to wheel the walker trolley out of the door.

I again got the same threatening look as she said: “Are you going to pay then?” No trace of a smile involved! Oh, things are not going well; Dementia Doreen is having a ball with me!

I got back up to the flat and cautiously made a brew of Thompsons Punjana. I say cautiously, cause the kettle is kaputt, and I have to use a saucepan of water – high-risk that, if Peripheral Pete, Shaking Shaun, or Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley should kick-off!

I checked on the order for a kettle on Amazon. Says it is coming tomorrow… It says tomorrow, by 22:00hrs, the tracker says it has not even near to arrived for despatch yet? Hmm! I was hoping it would come sooner; I’m risking s good scalding using the saucepan.

Nosh: Bean and cheese pastie. Two cheese twirls, yellow tomatoes and tons of fresh garden peas. Haha! Flavour: 8.2/10.

Moon from a distance.

Ah, that’s better!

Another decent effort, I’ll try again… I did. I’m too ashamed to show three smudged shaky efforts and this one below…

When I got back and worked on the blog for a good while, I suddenly panicked that I may have left the tap running when I had to dash out to the foot-lady… I shot like lighting to check on the wet room… Well, that’s a lie, but I hobbled as hastily as I could. I am glad to report that I had not left the faucet running at all…

However… I still nearly fainted when I got in the wet room? I’d left the convertor heater on full blast! What a wally!

A sunset from which day, I’ve no idea. But it’s pretty?

If the SD card does not fall apart again and the card reader on the computer is behaving, I’ll have a look later to see if there are any more pictures on there I’ve not put on. Ah, got some!

Forgot about them, me? Yes!

Well pleased with these figures… again!

Body temperature up a bit; it reminds me of the quiz show on the telly years ago, the Golden Shot with Bob Monkhouse. Do you remember it? It was not a brilliant show, but it was so good when Mr Monkhouse compared it. Poor Charlie Williams, who took over when Bob left, was lost. He was a great comedian all the same.

Hello, I got one more sunset photo in tonight! Bootiful!

Ode To My Photographicalisationings

Why is the quality of my photos varying?
Well, there are several reasons, some being…
Firstly, there’s Shirley’s-Shoulder-Shuddering…
Dizzy Dennis is always ready and lurking…

Peripheral Neuropathy Pete… now theres’ a thing!
He can make me wobble, things go dropping…
My right leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dancing!
Nasty, if I’m Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucketing!
Even taking a Weak-Unwilling-Negligible-Trickling,
Throughout the room, the wee-wee goes sprinkling!

Vascular Dementia Doreen, the one I’m fearing…
She gives my memory and brain a pommeling!
Reflux Roger, thankfully now rarely troubling…
Duodenal Donald can be bad, he’s not piffling!

Next, the latest big three ailments arriving…
Cataracts Kathleen, the most serious warning…
48 weeks to wait, before a consultants scheduling,
Right eye worse, with Saccades Sandra troubling…
Glaucoma Gladys, the eyesight is now failing…

The oldest ailments, that are still surviving?
Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, Phimosis, can he sting!
Mechanical Heart Valve, no need for alleviating…
Especially as it is thankfully working!

Another ailment that doesn’t affect picture taking…
The ear holes have long been handicapping…
Now, the ear wax in them is tightly congealing,
I can’t hear the telephone ringing,
Hear the radio or television playing…
Hardly hear the chap upstairs banging and knocking…
But of course, the last line is an advantage!

Try to make them Laugh Series

17 thoughts on “Inchcock: Diary-Belated Photographicalisations 1.2

  1. Wow! Wow! Wow! You produced some fantastic moonshots. The bright white starbursts and excellent, as well. You vitals are vital. You are still one cool dude on the surface. You are only 4ºF below normal. The problem is your hand looks terrible.

  2. A great backward-peering Gerry on a motorcycle, a good one, Sir.
    One always wonders what would have happened had an abandoned path not been abandoned. Every path not taken becomes a series of dashed lines that lead to nowt, but that appear better than the lot you’ve chosen. But there is no way to retrieve a fraction of a nanosecond to alter the past decisions. Everyone has these qualms that nag away at your spirit and numb your will. The stuff of thought storms.
    You have snapped many a photographilisation in total over the decades, a largish number by any measure.
    That is indeed at least a tonne of peas. And they be tasty. We recently cooked some excellent pellets called “English peas”. They were of both light and dark green colours and went well with butter and a dash of salt. Yummers!

    • The stuff of Thought-Storms… that encapsulated things nicely, Sir.
      I’m glad you got the pea taste, mate. Dash of butter dash of salt… Perfect!
      I’ve had the hob kettle delivered Billum… Tsk! Can’t hear the whistle, which if why I bought it in the first place! It said on Amazon and the box, 2.2litre – I put in a measured two mugs of water, and it was on the limit for safe use??? Photographicalisation to be taken.

      • Thought storms are indeed the strange-to-reckon creatures who we all meet in dreams, wearing disguises so well crafted that we cannot recognize who they are in the mist of a dreamscape.
        Salt and butter (in my case, plant-based butter) dashes are all that a plate of peas needs to be perfect.
        Intrigued about the hob kettle, so will wait in an abated state until it arrives at your gate.

      • Oddlymost, but his happens to me now and then… I feel fear and apprehension, and for no reason as I can see? An hour ago, I was whistling away at the computer, almost contented, now the dread has arrived, the thought Storms start. Why, I wonder… Vascular Dementia Doreen? Uncomfortable sensation. Sorry, that was off-subject mate.
        The dang kettle… I shall be doing a report on its failings later… I hopeth.

      • Fear and apprehension are tools of the storm inducers. The what ifs and the now whats and the WTFs. They are adept at stirring the pots of doubt that waft into the crannies, then seep out to grow until they envelop your mind and insert barbs into memories.
        A kettle of worms for a Diet of Worms? Danged devices. I await the tellage of that crocky thang.

      • My condience is everything has taken a dip, Bill, but why? I sall meekly… no meakly,,, erm (damned grammarly!)… plod on, and may discover the reason. I don’t like feeling like this, mate.
        Mon kettle is a mild disaster. Hehe!

      • Dips in confidence occur as time sweeps the hour, minute, and second hands along. They can happen in 1/19th of a nanosecond and then take an additional dip that sends all three hands through the bottom of the clock —hitting the floor awrithing in agony.
        Yer could maybe perhaps turn the kettle into a clock, a door stop, or an umbrella stand?
        Mild disaster? Haha!

      • That turnung owt into summat else sounds a bit daunting, mate. Pickling onions is anpoter thing… its the cutting of them you see… cause I can’t see to do them… Erm, where were we?
        Maybe I could give it to someone, Billum… I reckon it’s cursed!

      • The pickle juices get under the skin and the gases waft into the nose and eyes. Then yer wipes them eyes with an onion-coated hand and cry for the rest of the day.
        Sound accursed most certain and surely. Or summat.

      • Have yer ever tried pickled walnuts, Sir?
        I ask cause I did just once… Ergh!
        Pickled onions for me… well, bought in ones…

  3. My day was with much less drama. Got up, went to dialysis, came home, ate lunch, fell asleep in chair, woke up, went to bed, woke, made light supper, fed cat, took nap, got up, watched tragedies on news. Note: I had three naps! I guess it was a particularly trying day in some respect.

    • Hahaha! Take it steady, mate.
      WP wouldn’t let me comment on Andy today, Grrr! I was going to put:
      Andy, wating…
      Andy posing…
      Andy ablutionalisationing!
      Decent captures there, Doug.

      • Hard to believe WP has the biggest portion of the bloggery in this domain, eh?! Andy says to tell you “Meow!”, which I understanding the Catinese, means “Tough noogies, mate! I’d write a nasty, sarcastic letter if I had access to a laptop suitable for kitty paws!” (Catinese is a very efficient for communication….)

      • I’d been doing well with it now its gone back again? Tsk!
        Love the Tough Noogies, mate, quote. As would be expected from any kitty. Haha! Give him a scritch for me in thanks, Doug. TTFN

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