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Erm, Grizelda, definitely!
Something else will come to me,
Hopes that may come true, antipoverty,
This will fail due to the oligarchy,
Peace, end to wars; I’d love to see,
Stop politicians from lying & dishonesty.
Love all, thick, thin or with aduncity,
Black, yellow, red, white or pinky,
Stop bullies who act asseveratingly,
Stop Starmer from killing another pensioner,
Use the NHS medically, not politically
All act agreeably, cooperatively, supportingly,
To those who struggle with disability,
I mean mentally as well as physically,
Could they have free balneotherapy?
Oligarchs adverts are pure baloney…
Sentencing rich & poor haphazardly,
Herr Starmer has great intransigency,
He lectures/talks recalcitrantly,
With inflexibility, audacity, and temerity,
Sycophantically, sanctimoniously…
Tells porkies, misleads, repeatedly,
A freebooter, hoodwinker, & flimflammer,
A Labour Party disavower & traitor,
Obvious to all, he’s a four-flusher,
A terminator, like Schwarzenegger,
A backhander-seeking scavenger,
Sausages & hostages, has he got aphasia?
I think he ought to try some tincture…
Arsenic, cyanide, or belladonna!
Of course, this Ode is only theoretical.
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I’M FINDING IT HARD TO BELIEVE HOW MANY ACCIFAUXPAS AND WHOOPSIEDAGLEPLOPS I HAVE HAD EVERY DAY FOR AT LEAST THE LAST SIXTEEN. ARGGH!

AT LEAST MAINLY
Naturally, the daily intake of Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifaupas, and frustrations joined the regular mistakes, failures, and self-loathing, as well as cursing my inability to do almost anything without dropping, knocking something over, forgetting, experiencing seizures, mind-blanks, or banging into various now-damaged pits of the sparse furniture and fittings. Accompanied today by Toothache Tiffany, Anne Gyna, Trotsky Terence on the Porcelain Throne, and the damned catheter tube yanking on poor Little Inchie, making his fungal lesion bleed & hurt. 

The computer uploaded some photos and graphics early. All good. Doing the top section went well.
Then, when I went to empty the catheter bag, I tipped it into the WC and went to the kitchen to wash the jug. This jug, which I’ve used for the last three years or so, has disappeared; it seems to have vanished.
I went back to the computer, and it was completely blank; I couldn’t get it to reboot. No need to tell you how uptight, angry and depressed I was.
I spent hours and had two Carers call whilst I was trying everything I could think of that might have gone wrong. I gave up and moped about. I made a meal; there’s no point in photographing it. I didn’t eat much anyway. Most went into the bin.

Many hours later, I tried again. Being unsure which of the many plugs were attached to which bit of software would usually have made me very weary. But not now; I thought the computer had had its time and died a valiant death after being used every single day, sometimes for 15 hours a day, by an aged thicko. It had done well to last this long. Combined with my not being able to get anyone to take a look at the problems for me and all those times I was using it while in a seizure, it deserves a medal.

Making about my fifth search for the lost urine tub (No luck), I decided to make something to eat. As I moved nearer the sink, I caught the tough skin of the ankles against a plastic sharp lid edge. Lymphorrhoea Leslie bled away, leaving some spray of blood on the kitchen floor. It’s still there; no callers noticed it. I managed to stop the bleeding and applied a large plaster over the wound, then taped it in place. It’s not a pretty job, but when I changed it for a clean one later on, it looked okay to me. Barely a scratch, really. He says bravely. Hehe!
I had to backtrack because I went astray chronologically, and I also left the hot faucet/tap running, which resulted in losing all the hot water. Well, fancy that, I’ve not done that since yesterday, Saturday! Humph!

The Carers today were Manpreet two, Joe, then Carer Rozma; no, I think it was Carer Jyoti. But then again, I am famous for getting confused. Especially when under stress and after a series of short, sharp seizures. I had a good few of them today.
I don’t know how I found the time. Tsk!

On Joe’s last call, he helped try to sort out the computer again. We tried three times, and I was ready to give up. But Joe charged a plug socket, and we tried once again. It took ages to get it to go… But amazingly, it did. We kept getting options for each effort, but we couldn’t select them. This time, it went through, and wallah! Carer Joe did it again.
Rescued Me! Saved The Day! 👍🏻🙏🏻

Naturally, I expect that the next time I try, it will not work again, so I got on with the blog. If it doesn’t go down again, I will try my best to post this blog as soon as possible.

The computer allowed me to upload two photos taken after the calamitous Blue Screen situation was sorted by Carer Joe and blind-leading-the-blind.
Then, the reader was not identified again. Grrr!

A later-than-usual photo was taken from the kitchen window. Well, it’s now gone midnight, and this snap was taken just before.
What a fantastic sight!

This one was taken just after I got the dressing on the wounded leg. (Sympathy-seeking again? Hehe!)

Better get this posted. Matron Jackie coming tomorrow, and she can come early sometimes.
This looked much worse than it was.
When I changed the plaster and cleaned
There was no bleeding at all.

Fingers crossed that the computer starts in the morning… PLEASE! If you hear nowt for a bit, it might have packed up again. Oh, fear, great fear!

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Hoping For The Best!
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