Inchcock Diary & Odes, Fri 27th May 2022

Diary & Odes

Blotchy-Faced?

INCHIES MORNING ODE

I looked in the mirror last night; a terrible sight!
It was as if I’d been battered in a fistfight,
Blotches, pale eyes, a depression, it did incite…
How do I get into this mentally-inspired plight?
The physical ailments, I’m coping with them alright…
Although some of them can at times be a fight…
Cataracts, neuropathy, deaf, etc. have ruined my rike,
I’ve no confidence left; I feel like a troglodyte!

Was my being born an accident or oversight?
Mother ran away, was the start of my many a fike…
In social interactions, at 76, I’m still a neophyte…
Which doesn’t explain why my eyes and skin are so white?
The red patches remind me of the pox and bryophyte…
But I’m going to stop worrying… well, I might…
Things come to me, ailments, fears and many a blight…
What future I’ve left is not looking too bright!

I need to do something, like mind-defragging,
Free the tension, keep the tongues from wagging,
Cause it’s no use hiding and camouflaging…
My failures, incompetency and my not belonging!
My faults in the future, I’ll be acknowledging,
I’ll start with cutting out the foul language and effing…
Cut down my time blogging and cybersurfing!
From overeating, I’ll start abstaining,
Why do all that, you may be asking?
I can’t remember now, and that’s alarming!

YOU CAN TELL HE IS CHEERING UP A BIT, CAN’T YOU

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Friday 27th May

04:30hrs: I woke with the usual jump but soon regained all possible control (Which was not a lot) of my brain. And responded niftily to the call from Bladder Blair for a wee-wee.

Washed and made a brew of Thompsons’ Signature tea. Got on the computer and started to get the photos on.

These on the right are from last evening after I’d got the nosh consumed and settled down in the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner.

But I kept getting up again to photograph the sky.

Resettled but dozed for half an hour and shot wide awake again. Humph!

And the glow from the sky was coming through the curtain. I just had to, and I did, get up yet again to take these three pictures on the left of the evening late sunsetting.

These were a lot more colourful than the earlier ones.

The first one I took and made was while making a brew of Glengettie tea. By the time I’d made the mug, the rain had stopped, and the whole sky had changed colour with some interesting orange-hued puffer clouds near the horizon.

Mother nature never seems to stop amazing me.

I started to update the Wednesday/Thursday blog. Then within minutes, I had to return to the wet room, in need of the Porcelain Throne. So, I did!

A messy Trotsky Terence controlled evacuation again, but not as bad as yesterday. Not one of my better ones! I opted to get the ablutions done while I was in there.

The teeth bled; I dropped the razor and banged my shoulder on the sink, bending down to retrieve it. Then proceeded to give me several cuts shaving, under the chin, the ear-hole, and…wait for this… my left index finger! Then as I looked in the shaving mirror as I was cleaning it, I saw the blotches all over my face! Worra state! And the eye sockets looked proper pink?

Carer Valerie arrived. She got the medications sorted out, and we managed a little natter between us. And Val took the laundry with her and the waste bag, saying as Arni did… “I’ll be back!” Hehe!

I went back onto the blog and got it finished and posted off. Pinterested some photos and got on Facebook catch-up.

Then the Amazon Morrison order arrived. A lovely foreign lady, polite and sociable gal, bless her cotton socks. Three items were out of stock. And the onion chips were substituted with curry chips. Not sure that I will be keen on them, but, you never know, they might taste alright for me. At least I got the red potato fritters and one of the three battered chips I wanted.

Then, I got the things sorted and stored. There didn’t seem much to go in the freezer, which was just as well cause there was no room in the drawers anyway. I did get a loaf of bread in.

The fridge didn’t look anywhere as near full as usual after a delivery? Was I getting good and ordering less?

Well, no, not really. Why the heck I ordered a packet of Thompson’s Signature tea bags? I don’t know. I’ve got six packages of Thompson’s Punjana, two of J Sainsbury Red label extra strong, and a box of Glengettie in stock already? Oh, and a bix of Co-op 99 as well!

I got the flower treats that should have been coming on Monday for today. My EQ told me to. There will be something occurring on Monday medically, mayhaps, he tells me? I rang Warden and Desktop dancer Deana to tell her they were here, and when she came later, she kindly took a bunch to Francis for me. I can’t recall their names, but there were two different types. She had a choice of whichever she fancied.

I returned to finish off the Facebooking and then comments on WordPress. I got a call from my precious Hristina, the Warfarin DVT blood nurse; she will be calling twixt 10-1200hrs on Monday for the following test sample. I added it to the Google calendar. Got the Blood Pressure figured out. A bit high this morning. But this does happen now and then; it may have been with me hearing Hristina’s voice?

The body temperature was low, but nowt to worry about.

Carer Valerie returned the laundry for me. Thanked her, and off she went. I visited the junk room to hang the clothes. I was disappointed in the state of the jammie bottoms, all creased up, one leg inside out. One long-sleeved tee shirt was the same with the arms. The trousers were crunched up and creased. I must try to get Meridian to stop doing the washing for me… and paying them!

The tap tapping and noises that sounded like something metal-like being dropped kicked off. Still, he’s been quiet up till now.

Made an order for Iceland next week. Then got the nosh sorted. Oh, Boy, were those curried potato chips tasty! Yes, they were! Buttered mushroom pate sarnies, gherkins, red and orange tomatoes. A banana to follow and a worthy 8.3/10 for taste! Lovely!

I got settled to await the arrival of the evening carer, who was a smidge late, not that it mattered. I started to watch a Heartbeat episode, and every few minutes, I’d nod off for a couple of minutes, wake up, and off again. Most aggranoying, as I’d not seen this episode before. Tsk!

The evening carer arrived, medicated me, and asked if the laundry was ready to collect. I said that Valerie had done it this morning. A nibble and can of plonk were selected, and she took the waste bag with her.

Locked the door and got settled to watch the second episode of Heartbeat on the box. But, No! I kept nodding off again and shooting awake after a few minutes, only to drift off again and repeat the procedure?

Somehow I did manage to nod off, but it was hours later.

My much blotchy pot-marked face,
A sign of age, rotting and decays?
To be expected, I think nowadays…
Like wee-weeing in spurts and sprays.
Or losing memories that fade and stray…
Along with confusing, baffling thought waves…
Needing a kip each day, before midday…
Recalling when one was alive, in one’s heyday,
You’re looking towards the next pension day,
Coping with Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley…
Deaf, cataracts, depression Monday to Sunday…

My excrescences, give me haute couture,
If that’s the word, I’m not really sure…
I wonder if the Tate would make a sculpture?
I’d like to be a giver, cheerer-upperer, enricher…
Or an MP, maybe even a frontbencher?
Perhaps best, if I stay as this demented old failure,
Although I’m sadly an incompetent botcher…
A harmless old fart who’s into pareidolia…
Awaiting St Peter’s greeting as he says, ‘Gotcha!’
Possibly, my brain may have caught paranoia?

Trying is the first step toward failure!