Inchcock Today: Fri-Sat 6-7th May 2020

Friday 6th May 2020

We’ll start with

Advice-Tips for ankle-snapper included

Whoever thought that we would end up batty?
Or slowly, our body will end up so fatty?
And for Sunday dinner, have a bacon buttie?
Alone, we sit here, not too far from the portapotty…
Fighting off the Thought Storms, recalcitrantly!

See a youngster injure, and enjoy our epicaricacy!
Getting depressed as we realise life’s now an atrocity!
Stuck in a three-roomed flat, full of self ethnocentricity!
Wondering how you’re to pay for this month’s electricity!
Can we blame it on Dementia or our quaint eccentricity?

Of course, misery holds no exclusivity,
We won’t recognise our own depravity…
Yet recall a time when we had debauchery…
Whatever anyone says, we reply with dubiosity!

No fight left; what happened to our audacity?
Now incapable of shoeing any voracity…
And how we drank and ate: It was pure gluttony,
Happy now, with two biscuits for a meal, no edacity…
And, how come the peeing has lost all its velocity?

My adiposity, obesity, and rotundity, cause animosity!
You try in the morning to be gritty… the day ends up shitty!
Give folks a good morning, trying to be neighbourly…
In return, you get dagger eyes with venom and toxicity!
Still, it’ll happen; make the best of it… although it’s a pity!


On around the eighth time of jumping awake, and sleep was only for four hours, the annoying tingling from the bladder forced me up and out of the c1968 recliner and over to the grey overnight bucket for a wee-wee. I don’t know why I bothered; I think I’ve got another infection in the waterworks, it took ages to evacuate, and then it was painful and barely a trickle!

I opted to get a stand-up wash at the sink, teggies, and shaving sorted. There was a degree of forcing myself, for a very rare urge to get my head down again had to be fought off!

Not an easy struggle, but I won it with a bit of help from stubbing my toe against the electric stand-up airer’s leg… again! I often wonder if there is a built-in foot attractor in the pipes?

I made a start on the graphic for the Crowell Manor blog. And, along came Carer Richard arrived. And after giving me the medications, he set about checking all the dates on the foods in the fridge. I think it was eight out-of-date items. Humph! Good on him! He will review the cupboards next Thursday when he returns from his holiday.

(I started this blog, but not until Saturday, so no memories to use) Many of my notes for this blog became unreadable due to my stupidity in a rush to record them. Squiggles are too small to read! I’ll skip any that I’m unsure about and just copy those I can understand, so it may be a short double-diary from here on in for both Friday and Saturday… Sorry.

Shit comes to mind as a suitable explanatory word of how I felt! Got some photo’s uploaded on the first try! YES! I thought it might have cured itself, but it was back to hit and miss, with many more misses than hits to the later ones! It got even worse later on…

Liberty-Global and Virgin Media went down several times. It was highly annoying and frustrating. But did I let it get to me? Yes, I did!

Crap Service, crap lying company, and it should be… never mind!

15:10hrs, I got the blog finished and posted off.

INR DVT nurse came.No, honestly!  I think I may be in love here again… Hahaha! I should imagine that my being 62 years older than she is, a good foot shorter, I’m carrying a few stones more than I should – and wobbly at that, having Vascular Dementia, being deaf partially and blind, my hopes are not exactly optimistic. But somewhere in the ether lingers the tiniest bit of hope..!

Apparently, Liberty-Global Virgin Media went down three times in an hour! I read more on my memory pad cause I was so angry, I pressed on the pen harder!


I was struggling to get the photos onto CorelDraw, and while trying to sort it out, Neuropathy Pete kicked off, and Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters sent the right arm and leg all over the place. I ended up with an entirely changed screen layout and four different messages on screen that I had no idea what they meant! I could not access the controls! I was buggered! So, I stopped, turned everything off in the proper order, and prayed that the screen would come back right when I rebooted.

Couldn’t get any photos to load at all!



Up until the early morning hours, trying to get the photos on the system, no luck, so I got my head down. Bursting awake at 06:30hrs, after four hours of kip. Panicked a little, in case I had not heard the Carer coming; they sometimes call at 06:00hrs… then realised that if they had been, I would have heard the loud ♫Oh Susana♫ tune, even if I was sleep… or would I?

I was a bit of a mental wreck, worried about not being able to get the photos on the blog… had I missed the Carer, though? Wee-wee, a mug of Glengettie, and sorted through the potatoes to salvage any that could be able to be ‘desprouted’ enough to use. Not many passed the test, but enough for tonight’s meal. Hehe!

I took a few photos during the day, but I failed on all three tries to get them onto the computer. Things are looking bleak!

200 0 0 porc The evacuated product was a little on the firm side. Constipation Konrad taking control, I bet the next visit will either be a rock-solid, bloody, painful affair. Or, of course, it could catch me out with a reversal and be a smelly, semi-liquid, messy outcome. Tsk! This is one of one’s little pleasures in older life, not knowing what to expect!

Carer arrived. Carol was a sweetheart and always ready for a laugh and natter, even when, like today and she was busy. ♥ I did the Health Checks. Later, Carer Valerie came with some things she said had been found in the washing machine, only dish clothes, but none were mine. I’ll mention it to her when she calls again; nice of her to bring them anyway.

I got the Crowell Manor Laboratory blog finished and sent off to WordPress. Then started this one, hoping that the belated photos might get on the computer Sunday for another rescued photographs blog. Hahaha!

I seemed to get further and further behind with everything today. I did get Facebooking, WP comments replied to… all to the accompaniment of Herberts clunk-clunking, noises like dropped stuff, and an occasional tap-tap-thud.

.Mind-blanks, dizzies and no rest, as I kept on trying to get the blogging done. (I finished this one Sunday morning at about 11:00hrs. I needed to concentrate on getting Josie’s meal prepared and served up by then. So as I speak (well, type), 13:50hrs, the blog has still not been posted.) There’s no time to go one WordPress Reader; I’ll have to find time somehow on Sunday.

Worra Life, Innit?

As one ages; faculties fail… and you feel like a misfit,
You can’t get out, remember owt, or get credit…
Sex is barely a memory… and that’s dying. Dagnabbit!
These are things you’ll live with, cohabit…

A teddy bear, embarrassment at your fleapit…
Ailments galore, memories of once being fit,
Summat else, bleeding when you go for a shit
Names, using, thingamabob & whatchamacallit,

Your once handsome features, now so decrepit,
Putting up with name-calling, like a half-wit, & nitwit,
Desires dying, loins failing, I can’t be any more explicit,
The advantages of Brexit… all a load of bullshit!


20 thoughts on “Inchcock Today: Fri-Sat 6-7th May 2020

  1. Excellent odes.. You come with great ending words and rhymes. It would be nice if you could get a better ISP.

  2. A fine ode on the state of matter and the lack of personal energy, recognizing that many of us share in battling ailments that vex. You know that from firsthand, lefthand experience that we are both the victims of our own device, experiencing the indignity of suffering to fill the coffers of others, sorts sjuch as Michael Fries, those who know the proper manner of dealing with the devil.
    Frustrating business enough, but being assailed by our anatomically located ailments brings us to torture chambers and racks. Good to meet one another in this ether 24/7, unless Michael Fries decides otherwise and drops your internet connection, or the noises fulsome created by a Herbert turns an ordinary ceiling into a loudspeaker. Common courtesy is an obsolete phrase, but something that we practice daily on ‘NottinghamBlog.
    I like how you have made public the words following each letter in LIBERTY GLOBAL.
    We fank you for the fine work on the Crowell Manor Laboratories. You have brought CML to an international audience and let all know about the work we do to make the world reflect something better than the curses of cretins such as Michael Fries and the many who are of his ilk
    Interesting how Brexit no longer makes international headlines, now that it has become fixed in concrete accretions — making as much sense as that purchaser of Ready-Mix concrete. Just dump it here and I will work it tomorrow, something that a Nigel Farage might pronounce as a wise decision. A little time back, you mentioned how much further you need to travel to fine a bank, as certain an effect of Brexit as does not get mentioned in the news. I doubt that banks of the EU are shuttering, but HRH and meself need to decide which of our many labs might best address that matter of import. The real stuff gets reported on blogs such as ours, but who would want to clog up the news of the world with something as trivial and banal as TRUTH?

    • By gosh, what a monologue of wit and truth, Sire Billum the Fillum, author, creator and Humira taker, scientist, red-spot defeater, and laugh-rovider for 72 Woodthorpe Court.
      Had me in tucks! (I keep meaning to look up where that saying came from, must try to remember today).

      • That was quite the monologue, but I had to go on about Brexit because no one else is connecting the dots, dotting the t’s, or crossing the i’s.
        I had been wondering where Dominic Cummings had gone, but now realize that he is currently advising Herbert.
        As always, I am privileged to provide larfs when they are most needed. Much as it was important to provide limes to seafarers, lest rickets set in. ’tis the proper way to proceed because a larf a day keeps the doctor away. On second thought, the doctor is going to stay away whether you larf or whether you eat an apple.
        So far I have not been able to find out where “had me in tucks” originated.

      • And another smile bringing effort there, Sir… I fank you!
        Love the bringing of Cummings and Herbert together. The Brexitters are most likely to deny their past allegiance, methinks.
        Nice jibe at the Doctors, Billum, nicely slipped in there.
        I’d forgot tp do a search for the saying, when I done this, I’ll try to find it.
        Bless yers all!

      • Herbert is perfectly qualified to run as PM, a self-involved politician. Qualified people are never elected.
        We saw two doctors in two days, so that has left us a tad exhausted. Both offered no suggestions for addressing any of Lisa’s underlying health problems. Mostly a matter of reading through the prescriptions on file, and a number of invisible shoulder shrugs and eye rolls. Oh well…

      • Oh, so disappointing for HRH, again nothing id’d? Grrr!
        I know it does nothing, but I shall send a heartfelt gentle cuddle though the ether, and a getnle pat on the back for your worthy self, Sir! ♥

      • Actually, knowing that you send a heartfelt cuddle is knowing that you are an excellent fellow, a close friend, and a worthy mensch. And I can feel that gentle pat on my formerly red-spot-ridden back. Thankfully, all those spots are gone!

      • Found what it might mean, but no origin, Billum: To laugh hysterically, so that you can barely breathe.
        Person 1: Let’s take you, add me, subtract the clothes, divide your legs and multiply.
        Person 2: I was in tucks when he said that!!

      • We have that “tied in tucks” expression here as well. Maybe it is referring to someone who is having a straight-jacket fitted, that might cause some hysterical laughing and created some difficulty with breathing. It is probably of English origin, possibly Dickensian — where the only laughs are hysterical.
        I like that dialogue, Sir. The opening lines of a play genre, theater of the absurd. All you need now are a few hundred more lines, the stranger the better.
        Good lucketh!

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