Inchcock Today: Tuesday 22nd November 2022

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01:25hrs: Porcelain Throne, a wash, a second Throne visit, got the waste bags sorted out. A couple of wee-wees while I was making a brew of Glengettie.
Got the Monday blog tackled and did it all the way through (although I anticipate a number of errors and mistakes).
Back to the Porcelain Throne again. They were all of a sloppy Trotsky Terence variety and not a lot of it.
As I was getting the Health Checks done and making the graph… and I am sure that this would amaze and stun you… But the internet went down!

Difficult to apprehend, I know. A man earning now, $26.8 million a year, plus bonus and shares, who buys Virgin Media from Mr Branson for so many billion. 24 billion, I think it was
And can’t even get a service to Nottingham that is even slightly like a reliable service?
You have to admire the number-crunching Smoke and Mirrors money manipulator.

Of course, it’ll be mainly jealousy at how much he is earning. And can’t do the job right… innit?
Also, he must be a cunningly lucky man. He’ll know the few bosses of Liberty-Global above him, and no doubt fear of his spilling the beans on them ensures that Fries keeps his job? That and the back-handers they must be giving to the financial regulators. Just thought I’d mention it. 

I thought the wee-weeing was bad now, but little did I know what was waiting for me overnight!

I got my head down and tried to relax and recuperate.
But five hours later, Mr Fries, Liberty-Global, Virgin Media had not returned Internet was not on again.

Slept and woke for an hour, with no interest, and a totally confused brain caused me much misery. At 08:00hrs, Carer Shekiel came. Nice lad, we had a natter, treats in thanks, and he took the waste bags with him.

Noisy neighbour Herbert kicked off with his concerts of noise. At least they were different this time. The usual tap tappings, intermingled with the odd cappella serenade from his drilling tones.

I reluctantly started to fo the Health Checks again
Not so good today, back up in the Hypertension-3 Red Zone. The SIA bringing a rather high figure. A shame about that.

Although I did this okayish, my tiredness and weariness returned. And my concentration was all over the place. I turned off the computer and sat down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, Harold Haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable from, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner.
All a part of the mysterious nature 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!.

My mind was all over the place. I was hoping that ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress, Warden and Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana, Or ILC (Independent Living Coordinator) Generaloberstess, Ice skating champion florist and Warden Julie would find the time to get me some help on the ultra confusing instruction from the Mental Status Hospital. Even the address is confusing me.
Hazelwood House, ‘The Coppice’, Highbury Hospital, Bulwell, Nottingham.

I spent the rest of the day in the recliner; in fact, I spent 12 hours in the chair. The wee-wees slowly increased in frequency and got more and more painful, with less flowing each time!
As I said, no sleep again whatsoever.
I felt cold all night, a feeling that someone kept walking over my grave.
I made an ode in the morning for the Wednesday blog about this.

At 01:25hrs, I must have had 80 wee-wees! The total passed, would not have finked a tea mug! I started using the WC after this, hoping that it may encourage the rate of flow. It didn’t

Then I suddenly felt the cold more. I took off the jammies and put the dressing gown in the laundry bag. Then bot a thick bobble hat on my head, got a jumper on my torso, and a jacket on top of them. and a thicker pair of trousers on, and some socks… Boy, was that painful!

The rest, indeed even some of this, indeed repeated, I think, on Wednesday’s blog.

The Worst Night Ever!

Descriptive Ode Coming Tomorrow!