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Sometimes, one must be strict,
Especially if Summat’s been nicked,
Or someone acted uncaringly wicked,
Be it by human creatures or bionic,
Suitable punishment would be a tonic,
Sentences & crime do not befit,
Murder sentences are bullshit,
To save the cost of housing in the nick,
Parole Boarders are so easy to bootlick,
Provided inside with drugs & arsenic,
Solutions are beyond the bureaucratic,
Then, there’s Starmer & the Tory’s deficit!
His rosy cheeks indicate an alcoholic,
Who’s not diplomatic but diabolic!
Robbing pensioners was rather drastic,
His stealing from the poor & increased taxes,
Complains about this from Unions & Voters,
Keir ignored them, and they hoicked,
Freebies? He’s self-absorbed, narcissistic,
Take his vows with ethylenediaminetetraacetic,
Listing his backhanders would be encyclopaedic,
To the Labour party values, he’s econoclastic…
This ode sounds docudramatic,
But I can do nothing but kvetch…
The ode’s themes are, sadly, logorrhoeic,
And far from being mesmeric…
The name Starmer I use as a mnemonic,
When I can’t recall the word pathogenic!
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I woke late and might been even later if it had not been for the unintentional waking me up from the dream I was having by Peripheral Neuropathy Pete. And it was not the leg! The last time I made an unpremeditated Hitler Salute was many months ago. This morning’s  ‘Heil Hitler Salute’ knocked over two bottles of spring water, two bags of Frazzles, and a teaspoon & fork. (Although they may be dropped in my slumber, especially if I have a dream or seizure. I tend to do a fair  bit of nocturnal damage, you know!) 
The dream was a good one, what bits I can recall. I was on the roof of the flats, and I couldn’t remember the door code to get back in. So I jumped off the building (15 floors), landing in a tree. An ambulance arrived instantly. Three medics came to, I thought, rescue me. But instead, they beat the hell out of me and took my bank card, demanding the number. I swore at them… something else happened… I was under the ambulance with one of the medics with a notebook and a pen bent over me. Telling me that the ambulance would run slowly over my bone-dome if I didn’t give them my pin… Well, I couldn’t remember it! She called to the driver, and the bloodwagon’s front wheel started to press against my head. I’m sure I thought to myself, ‘Ah, sod it!’ The next second, I was in bed Hitler Saluting, which clouted my knuckle against the wall, and reining in my arm, I bashed my elbow and hit my head on the safety bar. Knocking stuff off the overbed table. Still, I thought it was much better than getting my head crushed underneath an ambulance. (I was temporarily confused between reality, logicality and fantasy, then?)

I let my head clear… as straightforward as it will ever be, and removed the Nocturnal Catheter Pouch from the day bag. Later, Carer Chris Confirmed this bloodied pouch had a number 6 rating on the NHS check card. Far too red!

I went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for a small mug of Co-op 99 tea. 
Taking a couple of snaps of the morning view.
A lot of difference in the sky colour. They were taken within about three minutes of each other. The green aura was back again. This often comes morning and night. No idea why.

Kettle on, and I hobbled to the wet room to get the ointmentating done in my private areas. Piles, Little Inchies fungal lesion, under my arms and man-breasts. Hehe! Plenty of cream to use. I hope I remember ordering some more on time. On leaving, I managed to get my leg tangled up with . Which tugged at , and she’s not forgiven me now, 12 hours later! Hope I’ve not made things worse than usual. I’ll see how it goes.

Carer Chris arrived in a jolly mood. It was nice to see that. He and I forgot to put the diabetic socks on. But he invoked changing the day catheter rigmarole for me. Did a good job, too. Then he took some photos of me with different expressions on my mush to use later in the Inchy Today… tomorrow.

Later, after struggling, I still got them saved, so I took this snap of the computer screen with them in CorelDraw.

I sorted the bin bags out and felt I’d forgotten something. So I checked around, including taps, fridge and freezer doors, windows, etc. But I felt uncomfortable not knowing why everything was alright after looking around.  

They kicked off and stayed with me for at least three hours until Carer Joanne came. I was trying to sort the Thursday blog finalising. But it was hard work with all the correcting I had to do. The gal had done the not-machine-washable gowns for me again. She really is a lifesaver. We laughed and joked, and I did most of the talking. I do that too often. Tsk!

Ace reporter & photographer Inchy of Cell 72 took these photographicalisations of the fire from his kitchen.

I put Radio Nottingham on to see it. I could find out where it was; it looked close, maybe on Hadyn Road.

The intercom burst into song. I was a delivery. Surely I had not done it again and ordered more bloody food?
Nope, it was the Mini-oven that was due tomorrow.
And it is much bigger than I thought it would be. But the deliveryman carried it through to the kitchen for me. I’m doubting it will fit on the old clapped-out stove now.
I’ll ask Carer Chris when his next day in is and beg him to help me fit it.
It looks wider than the flipping freezer!
Oh, dear, another Inchy Cock-up?

Carer Chris came later. He seems to think it might just go on the stove. He opened the box to check. I’m not sure, but I hope the lad can manage it for me. Bless him.

I got the rolls and onion out of the fridge. (I can’t get into the freezer, whimp me, can’t move the mini-cooker, it’s too heavy for me to manage. Tsk!
I got back on the computer and was impressed with how far I’d got on with it. !

Well, it’s now 19:25. It’s a toss-up between washing, eating, or going to bed. No problem. I’m too tired to wash and can’t sleep anyway, so I’ll make up the two cheese cobs with red onion, beetroot, pickled mushrooms, and beef with no-butter butter and have summat to eat. That sounds fair enough to my gluttony. Hehehe!

Hopefully, I’ll be back in the morning to finish this.
TTFN.

I got the meal sorted.
The resulting feast.
Three cheese bread rolls are spread with extra-strong cheese paste, ham, tomatoes, red onions, and pickled mushrooms. I forgot the beetroot. Tsk!

Carer Chris arrived for the last call. He removed the diabetic socks, medicated me, and grabbed some nibbles and a drinkie to help me sort out the mini-cooker on Monday. I hope he does anyway.
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Keepeth well and safe. I wish everyone could.