Inchy: Saturday, 5th April 2025

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I had a vision, a flash-forwarded,
It left me feebleminded,
The future was highlighted…
I can’t say I was delighted,
Like when I was trothplighted,
I was tickled and enraptured,
A glimpse of the future I captured,
I saw it on the chessboard…
Then, in the clues of a crossword,
A black rook that waved its sword…
Lands attacked, the vision-clouded,
Those not killed hid or cowered,
The Black King felt empowered,
The landscape, already cratered…
Peace talks are being avoided…
Countries being taken and bisected,
Civilians, children, killed, mutilated,
The fear, the dying, unalleviated,
Families scattered & separated…
Water and power, both disconnected,
The Killing increased, transcended,
We’ll never see wars ended,
Pleas for peace go unrequited,
Those in need are just pitied,
Oligarchs increase profit illicitly,
Supplying arms to each party…
I am sick of this violence, sadly,
I hate the warmongers’ peccability,
East & West spout paradoxicality,
It needs one leader with precocity,
Before we all die prematurely,
Did the Bible-writers, they were many,
Suffer from psychomancy?
Our chances of survival are dicey!
Will Jesus return to set us free?
If so, he’ll need to show I.D.
Or he’ll get deported, surely?
Creating humankind was to me…
The creators Whoopsiedangleplopski!
Hope I’ve not wrote owt incriminatory!
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I moved into the circa 1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, catheter-tube-trapping, leg bandages loosening, recliner last night.
Well, at about 03:00hrs this morning.
I’d been getting myself in a proper pickle, making the photos safe for publishing. I got one on, and that was a terrible one.
I got the above graphics to go on. It took me hours. It just won’t take them at all now. A Monster Depression dawned, and I’m at my lowest point in memory. But things got worse…
I gave up and closed the computer.

I snapped the morning view I can’t use and put the kettle on to brew tea. The food was due to arrive, so I took all the bags, including the ones currently stacked near the door, to the waste chute. No problems, although started her tour of my torso routine. Not long after returning to the flat, and as I was cleaning the mug… The Carer arrived, and the second he came in, I sank into a state of… I don’t know what to call it; I started sneezing and coughing, neck and back pains came on, and a brand-new form  kept coming and throwing all out of sync. I coughed a little blood at one time into the tissue. I think that was from gums or teeth, though. The young Carer was concerned, but he carried on, and I told him I was not up to tackling the catheter day pouch change at the moment, which I really wasn’t. Carer Ahram put my diabetic socks on and checked to ensure I had the panic alarm on my wrist. Talk about being foggy-brained, yet I recalled all this on the notepad!

A few hours later, he returned for the second call and volunteered to change the catheter day pouch. He did a decent job of it, too. By the time the lad left, my chesty coughing had eased and lessened, and the neck pain had eased, and Akram checked the taps as he departed.  
ARRGH!
I left the hot tap running, so that kyboshed my idea of doing the ablutions until tonight, when the night heater starts working.

Then I became seriously depressed, deeply. I felt I could not cope and wasn’t too bothered about carrying on. I openly beg someone to help me with the computer again.
The trouble is that I can no longer understand written instructions and don’t know any computer jargon, and I’m getting increasingly confused

Particularly with my stupidly leaving the hot water tap on again. I think I’m doing this more often than last week. The nurse may have come while I was out at the Audio Clinic, and I missed her. On the other hand, there are 2/1 odds that I will put the appointment down for the wrong day and/or week, and she might be calling next week. Then again, there’s a possibility that I dreamed of getting the telephone call saying she was visiting me to carry out another dementia test. What do I know!

I thought I’d added a photo to the file, and my spirits uplifted, I tried again with the other images.
Then I realised—I think this photo was from yesterday—that the thought of a photoless blog brought back the temporarily departed depression.

I decided to have an early meal, so half-heartedly. I realised it was already 17:00 hrs. I know I’ve spent hours and hours failing to get the photos to save.
Maybe the seizures did affect me differently and were from the ?

Not feeling right at all. This feels like something different to the usual collection of ailments.

I tried to stay awake to watch the football highlights of the day. I failed!

Another broken night’s sleep, but it was much longer. I must have had 5 hours of sleep!

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Beware of Oligarchs!
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