Wednesday, 18th May 2022
Ode To Depression
This morning, my depression turned to contemplation,
First, a few moments of deep retrospection,
What ifs, maybes and with some reprehension…
With mixed feelings, I recalled Thatcherisation,
A spirit that shocked and scared the whole nation,
Can’t keep his pants on John Major, constipation!
Tony Blair, liar, self-advancer and chancer… revulsion!
Gordon Brown, debt maker, indeed, no statistician,
Runaway Etonian, smug, arrogant but shit… Cameron,
Theresa May, Grenfell Fire, Tory Council, on the next day,
Lessons from the fire would be learned, she did say…
Visited the aftermath and was chased away!
Kensington & Chelsea London Borough Council, well they…
… are responsible, but Tories: So, no prosecutions to this day!
Guilt, self-blame, and self-recrimination led to self-expostulation,
Whatever came to mind led me to self-recrimination…
Black depression, I’d lost control and rationalisation…
I needed a bit of luck… to regain my motivation…
Eventually, I settled for acceptance of insanity and self-irrision!
It seems my life will never get any moments that are ambrosian,
Then again, there’s is there ever any justification…
But no! I shall fight this darkness by being conciliatory,
Apart from the ailment, deafness, and cataract, I can see…
Most of the other problems are down to my past stupidity!
The guilt should be expected and accepted, you see…
Bad choices, and decisions, are coming back to haunt me!
So how do I fight them off to get my mind guilt-free?
I just have to sulk and take the blame compliantly!
I found when reading this that it flows with duplexity…
My rambling thoughts get entangled, incipiently…
Reviewing failures is a wise thing, necessitously…
I’ve so many ailments and faults characteristically,
And a stomach that bulges grows, excrescently!
I struggle through each day rather incompetently,
Thought storms and depressions are just an inevitability!
This does not stop me from wanting happiness, such a pity!
Inchcock is now out of his Dracula Depression,
The main reason was his guilt; he now shows contrition…
The reasons for this, there’s a combination…
Well, several really, starting with his visit to the fridge,
He found some mushroom pate, just a smidge…
Not a common pate; this one had caramelisation!
With chips in his freezer, this eased his deprivation!
Chips, pate, tomatoes for his palettes delectation…
He loves his comfort food, and that’s no exaggeration,
He now accepts his loneliness and being Godforsaken…
First, though, this blog to do; he also loves his scriptitations!
Due to my taking so long to do the ode, a shortened version. Sorry!
After falling asleep early last night, I sprang awake at 01:30hrs. Wee-wee, wash, wee-wee.
Sorted out a waste bag or two, passed wind, and shot to the wet room to utilise the Porcelain Throne – Trotsky Terence controlled – Messy! Decided to get the ablutions done. A lot of cleaning was already needed after the almost liquid evacuations.
Got the computer on. I loaded pictures from yesterday.
Latest local Covid figures.
I’m assuming Tuesday night, a meal from earlier, not positive as to which day it was on. But Dementia Doreen is not letting me access the old memory easily at this moment. She is a bugger!
Getting back into the room after ablutionalisationing. The legs, ankles and feet were looking a little less battered about. But Arthur Itis and Cathy’s Cartilage were giving me some sticks.
Carer Richard arrived. Looking well done in after his shift. He said he had another call to make, so he could not stop for a decent natter. But still gave me a few minutes, bless him.
Herbert kept me company over the next couple of hours as I started updating yesterday’s blog. Got it finished as Herberts stopped his banging and clanging. Which was nice not to hear.
I took a break, and hobbled around the flat, did the belated balance exercises, and did a bit of bending, but this routine was restricted by Cathy and Arthur Itis. But no Dizzy Dennis visits yet. Yehaa!
Facebooked on TFZ and Winwood Heights pages. Did some WordPress Reading, then Comments reading and answered. Computing again, I Finished and posted the blog.
Made a start on the ode for this blog. The ideas were coming so fast I could hardly type them fast enough… thus it took me hours and hours to get it finished, and a multitude of errors had to be corrected.
Herbert gave me good hours of bangs, scraping noises, tap-tapping, and finishing his concert with a proper crunch-thud. Silence after that? I hope the haughty, snobby, pompous gentleman has not injured himself and is not lying up there, bleeding in agony.
I put the computer in sleep mode, rose from the swivel chair, and went into the balcony to have a moment’s peace. Took the Canon camera with me and shot the end car park
RVM, the Red-Van-Man van, had parked even further into the yellow chevron No Parking Zone. Still, it is not too important an issue with all the murders, prison escapes, stabbings, and children being mauled and killed by dogs.
I pressed on with the blog, but tiredness overcame me. It does that occasionally, I’ve noticed!
I called my Precious Jillie (Ex Carer) to see if she’ll be in tomorrow, and I can drop off the flowers for her. (Assuming that J Sainsbury’s delivers them and not a block of lard as one of their famous substitutes!) Luckily she agreed. So on the way down to get some cash from the hole in the wall.
I can pop them into Jill’s home, go to the bank, and then Ozan, the Continental Shop, for their delicious vegetarian beef, sausages and sourdough bread (Not on order from JS). No doubt some other bits that will catch my eye.
I turned off the computer, planning to get my meal, head down, and wake alter to complete the blog-finishing mission.
I got the nosh prepped and served up. Potato fries, finely crushed tomatoes, veggie bacon, and a pot of the delicious instant mash with veg sausage bits and a gravy flavour. Not a mixture one would usually have, but I was tired, confused, and a smidge fed-up at the time. But it tasted okay, and I ate most of it. Taste Rating: 7/10.
Stripped and washed, I got down in the £300 second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable, unfit-for-use, not working recliner, underneath a blanket. Determined to get to sleep…
On the verge of nodding off, I realised I was naked, and the Carer was due in about an hour… So, not wanting to make the mistake of greeting a Carer with no trousers on again, I got some jammie bottoms, and a t-shirt on, about to get back down in the chair, and needed a wee-wee rather urgently, and made my way to the bucket…
I stubbed my toe on the wheel of the recliner as I lost my balance… banged my already painful Arthur Itis and Cathy Cartilage patella on the arm of the chair, swore, nearly pee’d myself but got there in time… had a somewhat sad wee-wee, and emptied the now nearly-full NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), washed and disinfected it.
Eventually, I got resettled in the recliner. Once again, on the verge of drifting off to sleep… and ♫Oh, Susana♫ chimed from the doorbell, and Carer Valerie came in. I was not entirely with it, but she got me sorted, and unknown to me at the time, she washed meal things for me. Bless her!
Gave up, got up, and got back on the Computer. Sleep had been taken of of my agenda now. I turned the TV on to watch a Heartbeat episode, nodded, and missed the last ten minutes.
I cheered up a bit when the Card Reader started working again, and I got this photographicalisation that I took earlier of semi-puffer clouds. Tsk! I thought I saw a claw, but I can’t find it now.
It is now just gone midnight. And I’ll post this off and try again to get some sleep, Sweet Morpheus permitting, of course.