29/09/2022 – Inchie Today

POLITICAL CARTOON
The Labour Party Attack Planners!
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05:00hrs: I woke up, but I wanted to go back to sleep again. I awaited the arrival of the needs doe a wee-wee and or the Porcelain Throne, half-hoping to nod off again. As I lay there, partly hanging off of the £300, bought over eight years ago from the charity shop, Harold Haemorrhoids testing, repugnantly beige-coloured, crumb containing, virus-breeding, acne-giving, rickety, none-working recliner, it dawned on me that I maybe should not be so tired? I think I’d had nearly six hours of shut-eye!
Minutes later, following a very odd, almost musical, extended release of gas from the rear end, I rose, caught my balance and hobbled to the wet room.
No rushing, but I sensed that things mayhaps be about to begin of their own accord evacuation-wise. So got my bottom on the Porcelain Throne. A good job too. A totally different style of product exited. Similar to a single giant Zophobas Morio worm, it was even the same colour. No stink with it this time. No bleeding either. Well, being there, I decided to get the actioned.
What seems to be the regulation-two minimal nicks shaving. Another lump came off the double molar teeth cleaning. And Little Inchies needed treating.
Then I got the started. Got the sphygmomanometer and did the Blood Pressure.

Not so good again. As for the last couple of days, it was at Hypertension Red One. The body temperature was back up too high again, at 36.5°f.

I made a mug of 99 tea and made a start on the Computing. But had to go to the , for a second visit. Aha! Yet another different evacuation. Bat to the rabbit droppings mode this time. Still no bleeding from anywhere, and there was no pain in passing. There was a more distinctive aroma attached to this second dollop, though.

I meandered into the kitchenette, then the balcony, and took a few photographicalisation of the views that were available. The end of Chestnut Walk car park.

Then a straight ahead picture of the low horizon puffer clouds.

They soon filled the sky later. But the Lumix was not having it again! I know that the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodemons, apparitions, and other grotesqueries that haunt the hallways and lobbies, searching for Inchcock; to curse with bad luck, create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare, worry and confuse me! But this Lumix is doing my head in! Then I took the last shot to date, of the clouds in the car park.
Arrived, he said when asked that he was not so bad today. That didn’t stop the yawns coming through. He was not in such a rush today. Checked the wrist alarm batteries, and we had a gossip that went down well.

Things started to ape-shit when Richard left! So, the diary will get a bit thin now; detail-wise, sorry.

The computer screen froze

Started his tap-tapping, clanging and banging activities again. Not for as long as yesterday, about three or four hours, methinks. But there’s plenty of time for him to get out and buy more and noisier tools and Cocaine and come back and kick off again. Hehehe!

I got on with the Tuesday blog updating. But it was a long hard slog; I was making so many mistakes, even I couldn’t believe it. I spent yonks correcting stuff. No doubt I’ve missed many things. Very frustrating! Well into the afternoon by the time I got it done and posted off.

I went for at least my twelfth wee-wee, just as Herbert started clunking away again.

The landline flashed – My plans were thrashed.
She said they would pick me up in the morning for the Doctors visit at 10:00hrs. I mentioned the Friday booking for the Diabetes session. A momentarily scary silence! We do not have a booking for you this week.
Richard had told Deana for me two weeks ago of the changes made. I suppose I should have checked after last week’s welcome but unexpected lift to Bulwell. The dreaded words… ‘You’ll have to phone us in the morning at 08:30hrs. I don’t know if we can do it until then’ This is going to be fun. I tried again to contact Deana but was diverted. She must be off work ill or on holiday. This struggle to get help is so frustrating.

The fatigue fell, and I gave up. I’ll make a meal, then the evening care will be due to arrive and wake me up again; unless, of course, I don’t fall asleep… No, don’t be silly!

Nosh