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I may be wandering along a beach,
Fancying some chips that are out of reach,
Then the brain turns to devising critique,
Against Starmer & his HMG claque.
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In Scotland, the locals love a good claik,
But thought I was a Sassenach Glaik,
I adored their griddled-made potato-cake,
Their Beithir Fire beer? Hangover & headache!
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To the City Hospital for an angiography,
I was nurse-handled most adorably,
One of them, I think her name was Audrey,
Seemed to take a liking to me!
Said we should meet later, for a bevvy!
I agreed excitedly & droolingly,
We snuggled on the bed, passionately
But she felt the catheter on my knee…
I never again met Audrey,
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I got a job in a mine once, in Caerphilly,
On the first day, a bit of a catastrophe,
They issued gas masks, helmets, complimentary,
I worked conscientiously,
A collapse, & I crushed my knee,
Then I worked unconsciously… Hehehe!
I spent a week off sick,
But they patched me up quick,
Back to work, but life being aleatoric,
A car crash, ambulance, axonic,
I became the mine’s latest attrit!
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I was born with nowt, & I’ve got most it left,
Through sheer determination & graft…
I may have been a penniless waif,
And not turning to crime or theft…
I worked long hours, was a spendthrift,
My plans for a fortune? I didn’t get a sniff!
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Morning shots.

No garden fires.

Prepping nosh.

Nosh. Chick peas with sweet Soya sauce, beetroots, potato fishcakes, smoked mackerel pieces, pickled mushrooms, two well no-butter buttered cheese-topped rolls. And a mini-pot of lemon curd yoghourt. The mackerel had some bones in it. Which took the pleasure off of the taste a smidge.

It was a lousy day. There were no clarifications about the laundry, medications, financial help, or domestic help. Carer Joe said these services are not available for me. 
This is going to be a nightmare!

On Sunday morning, I located the telephone number of the Social Lady, Sarah, I believe. So, on Monday, I can call her regarding the mounting pile of laundry, nearly two full bags, on Sunday morning. My newly acquired arthithmaphobia assistance with banking, etc., and no domestic services supplied. Even if they can provide me with this help, the cost will increase, and I may regret it. But I can’t cope without some help. The house and brain are in tatters, and the worrying over this has brought back Duodenal Donald into action. Just what I wanted with the seizures and Anne Gyna who continues in top pain-giving form. That’s another thing; the Codeine box said I could take up to four a day if needed. But the Carers say it’s only two, and rightly so, because it’s in his instructions, no blame attached, but with Anne Gyna giving me a lot of stick, and not taking one, made for an ever waking up night’s sleep, as Anne Gyna was stabbing away and waking me up… well, endlessly. If it’s the same in the morning, I may have to take one extra anyway.
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Fed Up, Frustrated Frankly, & Mentally/Physically Fatigued
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