Inchcock Today Ode & Diary

Of course, Inchie soon lost his own plot!

From the heights of success and much glee,
From being a Kingpin at the top of the tree…
I was never a Hank Marvin or Bruce Lee…
Drinking, I got the sack for my lampoonery,
Only one way to go now for me!

Down, with a frown…
In despair to be drowned…
I have yet to hit the ground…
For I’d been hoping for good luck to be found,
Doreen Dementia was giving me the run-around…
I’m like a blubbery whale that’s run aground!

But further into the quagmire, I plunged,
My last wishes and plans expunged…
Splat… I was dead, so no longer unhinged
No medications, no ears to be syringed…
No more waiting for the next ailment that twinged,
And not be moaned at, or be zugzwanged!.


Ah, St Peters Gate, will I get angel wings?
Two bouncers descended the stairing…
Nicked my walking stick and kicked me in the shin?

Why? I asked: “You were making too much of a din!”,
“If yer going to be a noisy bugger, you’re not gerrin in!
Another snuffed-it tellurian came, name of Martin…

Not as fat as me, in fact, he was relatively thin…
Same age, looked younger, said he was addicted to gin?


I said, “I don’t want to know!” He said: ‘I was talking to him!’ …
Pointing at St Peter, who was busy questioning.
I say, ‘I was here first!’
“Ah, but I played
in World Cup with Geoff Hurst!”
I quipped: “Is that it then, footballers go first”?

Adding, “That’s not fair! God, would be fair!”
A bouncer. the one with long hair…
Pointed to St Peter, smoking a reefer, sat in a chair…
“You see that bloke there?
Well, he makes the rules for what happens here…
And he’s a West Ham fan, pulled out his taser…

He stunned me through my blazer…
I shouted. “You missed my ticker by a centimetre…
Do? yer, dead anyway, and laughed with St Peter!
Sorry, I died now; I was safer back in Uttoxeter!.
The Tannoy burst out, “You, tubby, shurrup, you blooter!
St Peter departed, saying I sort the bald one in the next millennia.
Hang on, I say, how long does a millennium last?

Don’t matter, does it? As he grabbed my hand for fingerprinting...
No rush; you’ve no one inside whittling…
“What about my Dad and Cyril, my cat?” I said, grovelling…
Well, if yer like, I can send you back to earth while yer waiting?
Words I never thought I’d find so frightening!

SUNDAY 17th July 2022

I stirred around 05:00hrs. I had a wee-wee without any leakages. Washed, shaved, and in an industrious mood, I set about prepping Josie’s Sunday meal.

Prepped the fresh vegetables, got them in the saucepan, seasoned them and kept stirring them every now and then.
This was when I realised I had got hot water from the tap! And Carer Valerie had requested maintenance to attend, and they were coming today! Oh, I did feel a fool! I turned my attention to trying to find a number for Nottingham City Homes Maintenance. Out of hours one, it is the weekend, and standard lines are unavailable. It was a farcical effort. I did find and ring the number: A recorded message, which as with everything on the phone, was hard to understand. I think she said that this line is for emergencies only. A smidgeon of panic rose within. And after being stumped completely, I decided to ask the morning Carer if he/she would mind calling the number to see if it was possible to let them know that the problem has solved itself. Which is better than saying: “The twit who lives here is senile and has Vascular Dementia, so the old fool gets things a muffle” Don’t you think! To save the cost of an engineer coming out when not needed. I hope the maintenance man doesn’t beat the Carer in arriving… Oh, dear!
I forgot about the Morrison delivery coming today via Amazon until a text message arrived. I rushed about and got room made in the fridge and had just finished it when they arrived. A jolly decent chap came with carefully packed bags. I was pleased to see they had sent some vegan burgers, I’ve had them before and enjoyed this brand, so
I ordered two packs of four burgers. How or why I ordered (if I did?) the breadcrumbed ones are beyond me? Vegan ice cream, some lemon ‘Free-From Bakewells on this tray… Mmm!
Food cupboard stocks resupplied. I’m hoping these cooked beetroots are actually-cooked and not raw like the Iceland ones were. Various cans of beans, pickled gherkins and a small bottle of BBQ sauce completed these bags. All three cupboards have been replenished now.
I had another look around for the NCH telephone numbers. No luck! Then did a deep Sherlock Holmesian ferret about the missing sunglasses that I might need tomorrow if they do the cataract operation in the morning. No luck! So, I had a hunt around for the hearing aid blower, oddly enough… No luck!
About 07:40hrs, the Morning Carer, Johnathan… no, no… Joseph arrived. The first thing I did was welcome him in with a big smile and tell him I had a problem and he might be able to help me out. I told him of my Whoopsiedangleplop with the hot water and asked if Joseph would mind calling the NCH for me. The lad was already running late, and he said he had to press on, fair enough, no problem with that. He then said he was getting his last calls done and came back to help[ me with the maintenance call. I thanked him.
A final stir and taste of Josie’s chilli, and off to the Porcelain room. Cor blimey, that was a big one! Hehehe! Got a wash again and went back to check on the Sunday lunch for Josie. Tasted good! I’d left the Canon camera in the wet room. I took a photo of my neighbours’ food tray and got it delivered quickly. Cleaned up the things used in cooking and returned to the computer to start this blog. Thought I’d upload the meal photograph… The Canon camera had not got the SD card in! Grungle-Self-Curses! And it was one to be proud of as well! Grrr! I am getting angrier with Dementia Doreen lately!
Then as things had calmed down, I did the belated Health Checks.
The Blood Pressure was up a little bit. Pulse down a smidgeon, and the body temperature was great!
The NHS input site was given the readings, which came out only in the red area. Pretty pleased with this.

I went into the kitchen to put some chips in the oven for my nosh and had a hat-trick of Whoopsie-Accifauxpas within minutes of getting in there.
Dropped the tray over fresh oven-ready chips, and being so hungry, I picked them up, cleaned them, and put them in the oven anyway. ② Burnt wrist putting the pots in the oven. Better get the food done now before the evening Carer arrives.

Tired, drained and worn out. I made a quick, simple nosh, which was tastier than many I’ve made. The fresh chips cooked in the oven were possibly the best I’ve ever tasted in months. Morrisons, they were. A bread roll, a few red and yellow tomatoes, and a pot of BBQ sauce to dip and dunk in. Hehehe!

Arrived, she soon had me sorted, and I stripped and got down in the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly-sickeningly beige coloured, tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly-recliner. In search of Sweet Morpheus.