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.

9 thoughts on “Inchcock Today Ode & Diary

  1. My Darling, sounds a good day to me! You cooked involved meals, shared with your neighbor, attempted a grueling intervention with public utilities- at best a note to file, at worst a visit where you could come up with some fib alert issues to befuddle the younger set. Lots of , ehhs? Wot, yer say me bananers is causing hot water problems? He will have said, this guy is bananas, and you toss it back ever more convoluted until they start talking to you SLOWY and you make out like he’s asked you about hot water usage and then go off on how you need hot water to rinse out your socks but also need cold water to ease the burns you get washing your socks. He will do anything to make scape, and no one the wiser you didn’t need him after all! What good is Doreen if you cant air her for your own benefit now and then!
    I made tiny red potatoes with sweet purple onion seasoned with sumac, lemon pepper, black peppercorns ground first, salt and multi herb mix! Billyyums hee hee, needs my input. I think he has missed his protein and many B vitamins. He says he’s drained and has an empty feeling inside. I think hes not eating well. That may get me out of my cocoon to take better care of that Moose! AKA Mumbletoons! That is one of the characters we created when I couldn’t speak for weeks after a bad intubation at same hospital where sponge and clamp was left inside me. A post so called rescue surgery had an improper placement of ventilator tube, harming my vocal chords. So each night before Bill left to sleep at home he would make some of his whimsical creatures, and I would write the story! After I could talk we took our avatars along for the ride. We have a book where we kept our tales and my sister latched on and had a good character of herself by Billyumss. We had fun drawing and adding story lines here and there. Oh , Again I want you to rent from Amazon fire TV What Dreams May Come and Somewhere in Time! Enjoy my dear! Your !

    • IHighly entertaining vomments there sweetheart! Brought a few smiles, Bless you. ♥ Richard the Care didn’t come in at 06:00 like he said he would, I didn’t say owt, I thin k he was embarrassed enough. Still as it tuned out the NHS transort were even later coming.

      Sounds goood to me. Not long back from the QMC Ears Eyes Nose & Throat Hospital – I’m going to do about on the blog tomorrow – at last I’ve told that despite my one in a billion msisshaoed cornea, they are putting me on the list to have the cataracts done, gal At long last then, I can read and write easier… when I get the new spectacles after the op and recovery she said. Well, it’s taken me two years to get on the list – how long before its done? Hahaha!
      I’m tiired out, 94°f at this moment here.

      I’ve just bought some red onions, Petal. And the veggie burger I got from Morrisons are as good as the Iceland ones.

      Tonight, cooking now, chips and veggi-chilli. Had them before, lovely… not as lovely as you are, of course! ♥

  2. That St Peter is a mean one tasing you and threatening to send you back into the world. Frightening indeed. Great ode. Vitals are holding. Decent looking food.

  3. Decrepitation can wipe you out and toss you to quiver zugzwanged and contorted in the corner, or words to that effect.
    St Peter’s Gate is not as you see in the cartoons and comic strips. Why do they always make it look the same: podium, gatery, big old book, mustache, clouds all ’round…but not if you are a reader of Inchcock Today, we get the inside word, even if that word is inside out…Just inquiring or speculating.
    Maintenance takes a maintainer, else nowt gets done in, and you get done in 24/7 at least. More on 25 hour days. Gets things a muffle: a fine new expression for my word tool kit…or was that word turd kit? The smell will tell…
    Ferreting for Sunglasses: a party game for the partly bespectacled, confused, or Doreenish. Where did that cleaner leave itself?
    A hat-trick of Whoopsie-Accifauxpas, sounds like a winner then turns into a loss-leader. Who is keeping score? Nil to nil then.
    Best be on my way to see if Sweet Morpheus has given Petal her sleep quota. Then he will see if the furries would like their evening purr-sleep before tossing a tin of sand in me eyes and kicking me under the bed to nestle with the fur bunnies?
    Or words to a different effect.
    Schlaf gut, mon ami!

    • Hahaha! Loved your decrepitation response, Billum. Smile generated!
      Then on to larf instigationlisationing, I fank you!
      Darned SM, mucking about with me, but its worth if, if the is paying attention to HRH, I don’t mind he is being good to our Angel-Petal. (Yours of course, sorry about that). Nestling with the fur bunnies, a much missed pleasure, but still a sweet one, hope the keyboard walker is paying you back with some good purrs and cuddles.
      Bless for the sleep wishes, I think they worked last night, had a decent kip! Thanks mate.

      • I was just checking with the SM chart to see where Billum stood on the queue. Being the only one of the six mammals still awake, having done what need be done in the kitchen and returning to the computer for final checks when I find that you had logged on 53 seconds earlier, or are still logged. Hoping to saw logs instead. So another bit of coincidencety to log (might as well use this word while it’s here). Angel-Petal sleeps away. Actually, woke for a second to inquire into a bedtime sarnie then yielding to SM in the next second. I am also not the jealous type, so sharing Angel-Petal is always no problem because you also exchange missives. Alles ist OK. Keyboard jumper jumped onto the keyboard this afternoon, spot in the middle of my post writing. A wear out of a post that turned into a free-for-all at various times. It is time for me to drop the topics that have no solution and to rather churn out humor or something that doesn’t involve thugs and thugettes to all sides. Biden did not call me before dropping “it is not a day to defeat Apartheid (or anything else), then swept into the clouds to land at the Saud Family castle and fist-bumb Mohammed bin Salman. Statements on what happened Khashoggi, and what was the deal with the bone saw. Turned into a he said, he said in the papers. Then, before you knew it, 94 degrees of Apocalypse roll into Nottingham. Very pleased that my sleep; wishes found their way to the SM bag of sleep tricks.
        Glad of course that you liked my stuff on decrepitation et al.
        Do I hear SM walking down the hall? Thanks to you as well mate!

      • I was just checking with the SM chart to see where Billum stood on the queue? Gotten Himmel, unt Globdoberations! Does this mean that swine SM is ignoring you? After all your good works and efforts as well. I shall ether-wise a message of condemnation to him. The git!
        Liked the log connections, Bullum. If coincidencety id theere, good enough!
        Angel-Petal sleeps away. Nice!
        Alles ist OK, thanks.
        “Keyboard jumper jumped onto the keyboard this afternoon, spot in the middle of my post writing”… brings memories of Cyril.
        Biden did not call you before dropping “it is not a day to defeat Apartheid (or anything else), he made a mistake there. methinks!
        Oh, yes, praiseworhty stuff on decrepitation, likened mate.

      • Writing that bit at the end of a very long day worked as a somnambulant, giving SM a needed assist. S. Morpheus is stingy with somnambulantia, as is reported in the literature. So, his being good to A-P makes up for spending more time in the waiting room at the metaphorical sleep clinic. Nibbles likes to call herself a full-screen editor.
        And we continue to follow the heat apocalypse over the UK and the entire continent, particularly knowing that it extends over the coming days. Bloody awful, my friend.

Leave a Reply