Inchcock Today: Saturday 13th August 2022

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12:05hrs: I was abruptly woken by the mind-numbing regulation jolt this morning.  It took me a few minutes to gather the time, where I was, and who I was! Hehehe! Most annoyingly, because I was having a dream, enjoying a dream. The nature of which may not be suitable for blogging. It didn’t do me as good as it happens; Being torn from heavenly bliss, and believing it was actually happening, is cruel in the extreme. The sadness and disappointment in realising it just being a dream is heartbreaking. However, it’s best not to have such goals in the first place. I may need an extra beta-blocker!

Bootiful moon. I had to lean out of the kitchenette window to get it. Had to take four shots to get this one that was usable for my readers. Har-har! Mother Nature at her finest! Sorry, I could not get a better photo of it; I dun me best!

Closing the window, I knocked a bottle off of the window ledge. Although it didn’t break, it landed on a soft part… my big toe that the foot lady cut yesterday! It had to be a heavy glass bottle, the Squid Vinegar.

I needed a wee-wee, it didn’t seem urgent, so I got the kettle on and nipped into the Throne Room. It was a trickling affair that must have taken five minutes to get rid of a few fluid ounces. Zipping up Little Inchies spy hole, I only just got it down again in time for the after-micturition to drip. Minutes later, the zipper was utilised likewise, and the same thing happened. Which must have been another five or six minutes! Worra life! So I decided to have a sit down as I waited patiently for the leaking to stop.

However, such matters… well, anything concerning the brains malfunctioning, mentally, like; is nowadays down to the Demoness Dementia Doreen, I’m afraid.
Like yesterday’s mind-blank in Bulwell, I think I lost about half an hour of memory. How could I walk all that way to the Poundland Shop without my recalling anything about it?
The worrying bit about this one was when I sort of realised where I was, in the shop, with some products already picked and put into the three-wheeler trolley basket; I didn’t panic at all. I seemed to feel lucky I wasn’t mugged or been run over.

Trying now, looking back, to find any other reason or cause other than Doreen. I lay there this morning musing over this incident and my reactions to it.  I know I had just had a lot of hassle with the Diabetes meeting going all wrong… The farce with the hearing aids and strangers trying to help me, well, they did, and that was heartwarming! But cataracts and deafness made it impossible for me to participate in the proceedings.
Disgustingly, I felt sorry for myself and sulked with the frustration of it all. It was immediately after my departure that the mind-blank occurred. This may be part of the causes of the blanks. I don’t get them often, but each time previously, they worried me. But this time, I just accepted the situation. I started fretting, later on, mind. Hehehe! I hope someone reads this who knows me, and friends and family… no, both of them, maybe then they’ll understand my situation better. The guilt at my self-centred actions is still fresh in my mind – I see that Dementia Doreen has not stolen that memory… Bitch!
There are bound to have been people in that room with worse ailments than I have, but all I could think of were mine. I intend to make some amends at the next meeting, and be upfront, and tell Nathanial about my needing to be facing any talker, even with the hearing aids in, and not facing any light or sunshine, to give my one semi-good eye a chance. And importantly, to apologise to the others for ruining their meeting. If they accept me back, this must be done.
Waffled on a bit there, didn’t I? Sorry!

Up A Bit More Today!
SYS 151, DIA 67 Pulse 72 (Down a smidgeon) Body Temperature, 34.3°f, excellent.
The room temperature was 81°f, and the outside one from the web information was 85f. Another warm one?
Put the numbers on the NHS DVT page and got this graph up. Not the photo of me and writing. That was me trying to be creative.

, Is kicking off early today. Blimey, it must be a big order; it’s been non-stop for ages. Nowt too loud this time, just sounding like annoying tap-tapping and scratching, scuffing sounds. Richard the Caring-Heart may have a rush job on… or not. He might be having a bath. Hahahaha! I am awful!

This on the left is the message I got back from the NHS about the test results. I offered a few comments on their comments and suggested recommendations and actions to take to lower the BP.

Got yesterday’s blog completed; it took a few hours. Posted it off, and I sent the email links. Went to make a brew of Glengettie, and ♫Oh, Susana♫ chimed out.
Samantha came in, and I’m delighted to report she was patient and listened to my tale of woe, from yesterday’s Diabetes Lesson, the mind-blank, the punch-up on the Vale, the foot-lady trying to sever my big toe, patiently! Bless her cotton socks!

I came across some more undecipherable parts of the reminder notes again. Just a line and a half of terrible scribble. Can’t work out many words, but it went like this… No, I’ll take a photo of it, and then someone may be able to read it and let me know. Hang on, I’ll get the camera…
Gorrit took a photo of it, and here it is on the left.
I think the Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters must have been offline when I wrote some of these notes, comical reminders.

♫Oh, Susana♫  burst into life again. It was the Amazon delivery lady with the boxes of various nuts I’d ordered.
Seems like a lot looking at the boxes, but they weighed very little, apart from one.
The delightful chocolate walnuts and white yoghourt cashews were a real treat for me.
The extra unique trial crisps of a sort I looked forward to trying with a certain relishness! Seaweed crisps and Shitakka dried mushroom crisps! I shall report on them after I’ve tried them. (Lower down) Cleared away the boxes to the waste chute and started making something to eat. Using the shortest use-by dates that I could read. Any I can’t read will have to be dished.

Success! Fishless fish sticks,  chips, tomatoes and two oven-baked bread rolls. Not classy stuff, but it suits my essentially lower-class, impecunious, plebian, proletarian and bourgeoisie upbringing. I was ten before I had my first hot meal, and I had to toast that on the coal fire. I tell a fib there, not intentionally. I’d get home from school and do my evening paper rounds to find the chipped enamel off-white bowl on the homemade kitchen sink lean-to, with a couple of Oxo cubes and some mouldy bread. There would be a note left somewhere “Dinner on draining board” Happy days. So this was a feast for me. Waffled on a bit there, again. Tsk!
The eyes are getting tired sooner every day. I’m hoping cataracts can be done sooner rather than later. They played a big part in my getting into such a mess, frustrated, and in the end, having the memory blank at the Diabetes session at the Riverside.

I had the meal and drifted off with the tray and things still on my knee. Got a couple of hours in. The tray was in the same position when I woke up.

Arrived; unfortunately, I’d just taken off my trousers. But Valerie always presses the doorbell, so I had time to get behind the door, wave my hand around it, asking her to wait a while. It’s job gerrin’ owd, innit! I’m not sure when Val is leaving, but I’ll miss her. She’ll miss me too; there may not be treats for her at the care home she’s going to work at. Hahaha!
After Val left for another hour or so, I nodded again, then got up to tend to the blogging needs.
But, being so tired, the concentration and eyes not working correctly – I got into the same pickle with CorelDraw as two days ago. It took me well into Monday morning to sort it out again. So no point in getting my head down now. At least I got some sleep in earlier. Humph!

Morning All!

12 thoughts on “Inchcock Today: Saturday 13th August 2022

  1. Good on Christiaan Huygens for finding that bit of Martian geography (should I say marsgraphy? Methinks that be the best way) So there! Speaking of orbs, that moon is brilliant.
    Waking can be sweet sorrow, according to Billum Shakespeare? Feh to awakening that way, I say odeingly! Haha!!
    Squid vinegar on the toe, oh no… the very one butchered by the Lady of Foot just yesterday. Another feh I say. What are the odds of that happening…erm…certain, 100%??
    Your depiction of Doreen is spot on…out damned spot? Good fashioning for Doreen. But now I must aver that Doreen is a b*tch. As are Billum’s Bumps! Aaarrrgh and Harrumpph!
    The annotations at each side of the BP report gives us the inside information. A typo helps because the meter states 151, rather than the 161. A success then.
    I am also sad to see Valerie leave, but wish her a grand and satisfying career!!
    May Monday be marvelous.

    • I was amazed at Christiaan, 1669, whar was he using? Had slide rules been invented then? Hehe! Good of him!
      Doreen is a b*tch. As are Billum’s Bumps! Hahaha!
      You owuldn’t believe the typos I’m making, its taken me over an hour and three quarters to reply to gour comments. Gammarly not working on the comments, so ever correcting. No doubt I’ve missed many of them on each one, these eyes are getting so bad now. PLease that they call ne soon for the operation. Carer Sarah said her mother had the op, and is tickled pink that she can well again.
      I’ll passeth on you wished to Valerie, I think she is still with us for this week, but night be wrong.
      Hoping for a Perky Tuesday for you all, Sir!

      • According to Guy Google:
        Peter Mark Roget (1779–1869) studied medicine at Edinburgh University. In 1814, he invented a slide rule to calculate the roots and powers of numbers. It became the basis of slide rules that were common currency in schools and universities until the age of the calculator.

        Please do not worry about correcting typos, I enjoy word puzzles and anagrams. So it is a win-win situation. Worrie ye naht, Ser!
        Call the office to confirm the date perhaps. And be sure to have Deana set a reminder?
        Viel Glück und einen guten Dienstag!

      • Merci Mon Ami!
        Is Peter the Roget’s thesaurus man, Billum?
        A neighbour from 1954, a Polish chap who lived on Brookfield Place, near to us, who I helped one day when he dropped his shopping when I wa in the terrace, and we bacame friend. I’d fetch dome tripe and onions for him, and he tried to teach ne to play his piano – we soon lost interst in that, I was, as h said; ‘A sad tuneless boy’ Hehehe! He did not work as such, but made enbough to live on by dong the foootball pools (True!) He had a board a t-suare in his desk, and alway had a yellow slide rule to hand. Grand chap, but few spoke to him for being Polish and nto having a job. I denied my father, mother and Sister Jane, and went on visiting him. I learnt at an early age, that those you would never expect to be, were racist.
        Thanks for understanding about my vision and Grammarly, mate.
        Dorren got me today, I didn’t have a meal. But didn’t realise until I got my head down… no way was I going to upset SM by getting up to eat. Hehehe!
        Ich mag Montag und Dienstag… Hello, Herberts off again!

      • Peter Mark Roget is indeed the founder of that rather famous tome.
        1954. What a year to remember, very interesting account of that Polish chap. Racism is the first response of many, and it occurs at all levels of “polite society.”Thank *you*, Sir. I do understand about your vision *and* Grammarly.
        Here is a blog I wrote on Bertrand Russell’s essay “Nice People”:
        Doreen is a c*^@ und Herbert ist total ein Arschloch.
        Just saying. Haha!!

      • Thanks for the confirmation, Sir. Roger – over.
        Appreciated that.
        Clicking you link, sends me back to by creat a psrt page? I’ll try again later, it might be because I’m in comments?
        Spot on with those two ailments.
        I fanketh you.

      • Reminding me of all the “Rogers” in the film Airplane. 🙂
        I think my webpage might be doing that to others as well. Or WordPress being WordPress perhaps.
        Doreen-Herbert Syndrome?
        I fankincenseth *you*

      • I don’t know who wrote Airplane, Billum, but he could write our three’s life stories? Turn yours & Petsl-Lisa’s into a film? Hehehe! Then again, who could ever play the part of HRH?
        Synonym for WordPress: Erm… er…
        Similar to Facebook, I imagine.
        Oh, Pinkie dighrf sgsin lsdt noght st tuck-in time. Brilliant implant by Lida! ♥

      • The three of us would make an incomparable team, set in the 1930’s and 40’s. Bombs dropping on us from the skies. A black-and-white. Reminding me of the classic David Niven film “A Matter of Life and Death.” 1946.
        Pinkie is one of a kind. As are the others.

      • I get better communication with the family, than some carers,,, and drefinitely betterer than with the Doctor. Hehehe!
        It that fillum the one where he (DN) dies and comes back, Bill?
        I sometimes think I’d be more suited for an earlier era, I’ve often thought I wa born too late.
        I recall doing the shopping for Dad in the late fifties, early sixties, and getting back to tell him his cow-heel cost 1/3d (6p nowadays), it had gone up from 1/- (5p). He wenmt spare! And told me that it used to ocost him (years ago) a farthing for two heels. I don’t think I truly believed him, but nmoe it’s mu turn to trcall prices as they were. A loaf of sliced bread then, cost 2½d, for the best ones. Today, o yesterday I got a sliced loaf delivered with the shopping, it cost £1.90! I do belive him now. (Sorry Dad!)
        I waffled on a bit there, you do inspire me, Billum.
        Love to all! ♥

      • The family is better than a thousand doctors.
        That is the film, Sir!
        Being born out of time is exactly how I feel as well — a synchronistic moment there, mate, since I just wrote about it in my last comment reply. Hence the longing for a time machine.
        There was a ma-and-pa (literally) show near us in the 1950’s, 10 cents would get yield a handful of candy. My parents shopped at a bread factory clearance store, 10 loaves for a dollar and stored in our basement freezer. Next to the freezer was a refrigerator with a compressor on top. It also had one of those latches that suffocated many a child who would crawl into a discarded refrigerator — the days before magnet clasps.
        Hey, I just waffled on too. One waffle inspires another. Hahaha!!!!

      • Reindeer Robert, rose early today, and beckoned for his morning gossip – of course there is a slight chance that I dreampt this?
        Another link twixt us! Great!
        Memories are so precious, even bad ones can clarify the brain a little. Good ones comfort it!
        We were a little different set up, no electricity in the house until 1954, I think it was, then when Mother wasn’t in the nick or in the run, she come home demanding an elelctric cooker, refrifgeratir and a TV. Dad was not keen, so she hired one of each from Wigfalls, didn’t pay the dues, fiddled the local bookies and went on the run again. Dad had to pay all the debts. So we did have a fridge for a noth or so, but not much food to go in it. Hahaha! Ah, memories! I always welcome a waffle away, Billum! A welcome waffle, is better than a pound of offal! So no trouble, waffle will not burst my bubble!
        What am I on about?
        Thanks, mate.

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