
The result of a moment’s aberration,
Off for an afternoon spent riparian,
I enjoyed this on Bristol’s River Avon,
Ah, the peace, no altercation…
I saw my first coprophagan…
Missing the cow turds, with attention,
No visits from Agathodaemon…
I felt totally free of depression,
A gentle breeze, the sun my guerdon,
On the river, flotsam & hymenopteran,
So peaceful, no thoughts bacchanalian,
My mind wandered off on its own volition…
Viewing the world without condemnation,
I fell asleep, & found perfection…
Suddenly, no hatred, wars, crimes or derision!
Harmony, with Angels, each a protecting guardian,
All around me, people dressed Edwardian,
Azaleas, looking up at me, showing their apotropaism,
No scent of fear, or need of apogeotropism,
Then, I feared for this imaginary kingdom,
Knowing what lies ahead, I had the wisdom…
A man filling his pipe, his girlfriend paying attention,
Would she lose him in a war, perhaps the Crimean?
Senghenydd explosion, 439 men died while mining,
I woke up to find I had a problem,
A water-filled, leaking Wellington!
Maybe a seizure, I thought, after an interregnum,
This was all beyond my comprehension,
Yet the day felt real, in fact, so idyllian,
I even managed a little self-irrision,
I felt joyful, blithe, with exhilaration…
But riddled with suspicion…
Was today all but an illusion?
I’ll have to give this some consideration!
I certainly felt a strange abnormalisation…
I got there & back without transportation?
I searched but found no medication,
Ah… I’m at a different location!
Brookfield Place, under Arkwright St station,
All gone now, not in my memory & imagination,
It smells the same, soot & smoke from the train station,
The rag & bone man, horse & cart creating a ruction,
We try to get an increase in price, but get a reduction,
I saw myself poor & undesirable, a bezonian…
This dream is like a circumbilivagination,
The stable, the wood yard, folks in contradiction,
What I see may well be a conceptualisation…
But to me, it was a reassuring actualisation,
The smell of boiling bones for the gruel,
Not that I ever thought this was cruel,
Survival meant we had to be adaptable,
Cow heel, rabbit; if one were catchable,
Mother found cigarettes to be ascertainable,
Usually scrounged, stolen or pocketable,
As a small lad, others found me punchable,
Despite this, I remained compliable,
Although the neighbourhood was a little tribal,
Everyone had a go at me, it seemed logical,
I thought this was to be expected and normal,
I’ve always been easy to clobber & bumfuzzle,
Never knew why, but Mother called me her barnacle,
They pulled the old Meadows down… terrible!
It’d be a treasure to anyone archaeological!
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0535hrs: I think I woke just after having a seizure of some kind or other. Because I was so confused and wobbly on my feet when I dismounted the bed to sort out the nocturnal catheter. I felt the need for the Porcelain Throne brewing up in my innards.
Another mystery from Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, & spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Dank Depressing Darius, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhoea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, or the Fata Morgana, hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, Whoopsiedangleplops that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, and logicality were already on the wane.
But as I hobbled back to the kitchen, I realised it was as if someone had corrected my balance, and the Dizzy Dennis had gone off into the ether?
As I thought about this gift,
When she suddenly stopped, I wasn’t surprised; she must have worn herself out. Hehehe!
Although I am not very often pleased or confident about anything I do nowadays, this one I was happy with.
Carer Ejaz rang the intercom. I fumbled my way to the box, pressed ‘receive,’ and the panel showed Ejaz on his phone. I then pressed the release button on the door. The intercom chimes started again, and the inner lobby door had not opened! I tried again, but no success. (No success? Could that go on my plaque at the crematorium? – Or, as someone suggested last year, would this be better: “He came, He failed, He Went?” Got carried away again there. Sorry. So, I’d got my dressing gown on from when I went out onto the balcony to take the fantastic, wonderful, magnificent photo above left. Haha! So I went down to admit Ejaz.
How long will this
I made a determined effort to complete yesterday’s blog. Although,
A couple of hours later, the intercom rang again. It was the Iceland order arriving. I tried to tell him the door might not work and that I’d be down to open the lobby door manually for him. I’m not sure if he heard me, as the screen dies within a few seconds. So, I got dressed again, and as I was leaving to go
The first thing I noticed was the big bag of toilet paper. They were a bit more expensive than my usual ones, but it was the sale price, and it stated they were triple-ply. So, with
What a Mistaka to Maker!
I swear that it will take a third of a roll to wipe my bottie after a
👎🏼And, disappointment number
👎🏼“That’s why we go to Iceland” Huh!👎🏼
No mention of the fee for picking, packing and carrier bags. But one has to be fair. Asda often pre-crushes your bread to make it easier to digest; their dates are dodgy, too.
Even J Sainsbury sent Royal Farms Grown Anya potatoes last week with black spots, and they were to be used by the same day as the delivery. And cheesy cobs. But with Trump, Putin, Xi Jinping, and Sparkling Toolmaker’s Son Starmer doing their best to prompt World War Three, does this really matter enough to bother about? Maybe not!
A Little Quiz: There was an item in one of the photos that Carer Mizra pointed out had ingredients. Here they are; see if you can find out which product it was from them. Ingredients: Beef (1800P08 per 1g) of beef xxxxxxx. Seasoning: dextrose, caster sugar, salt, onion powder, yeast extract, tomato powder, garlic powder, smoked paprika, caramelised sugar. Natural flavouring: Citric acid, smoked maltodextrin, oregano, liquorice powder, paprika extract, salt, vinegar, potassium sorbate. The seven X’s replace the name of the product. The first comment winner will receive a Certificate Of Merit on the blog.
He took a minute or two to examine the new mobile, trying to figure out how to change the ringtone and make it louder. No luck, but he tried. Thanks, Mizra. Ejaz tried without any luck the other day. I don’t think the option is on the phone at all. They both comprehend the workings of new phones. I think this one has no choice.
I found that while in the seizure, I’d been working on the blog. I made a right mess of it, which took me ages to get right again.
It took me half an hour of just sitting here feeling sorry for myself, especially after the longest-ever unbroken visit from
All the effects were lessening when Carer Mizra returned. During the time he was here, clarity returned, along with something that amazed me, but
The rain had stopped. I got a decent shot of the famous end of the car park’s mudflow.
A dual attack coordinated by
The last Carer call was with Mizra. When he was here,
He seemed genuinely worried, asking if he should
Back to the blogging. Thinking and praying for the return of
I continued with this lengthy blog. Suddenly, I realised it was 05:00hrs! No wonder I was feeling done in. I had no energy for food preparation, so I saved the things and closed the computer.
It took all the energy I had left just to climb into bed. For the first time ever, I ignored the panic-thoughts of Did I lock the door. Are the taps turned off, etc? I was not feeling too well and was too tired to be bothered. Well, that was a first!
Luckily, nothing was found amiss in the morning.
Apart from the fact that I was so far out of it.
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TTFNski.
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I do love the rain on the window shot. I also like the ode – the series of dreams.
Ah, the rain, the short burst was too little. Hose pipe bans now in certain areas, on the Midlands Today news earlier, Paul.
Does me good when I hear someone liked one, thanks. mate. 👍🏻
Who would have thought we’d get to water restrictions but here we are.
It’s not good from so many viewpoints, Sir. Worries me for the youngsters and what they will face.
Yes, I share that concern, not much hope in the long term at this rate.
The End is Nigh, surely they know this? But they don’t seem interested.
Cheers, Paul.
I think it’s the deckchairs on the Titanic principle – deny, deny, deny.
Good comparison, Paul!
🙂
Had I mentioned hitchhiking from London to Bath and to Salisbury? Got caught in a hail storm just east of Bath. Worra a time that was. 1972. I walked right down the main road connected to Downing Street. Walked right up to the door, actually. A couple cats were in attendance. Quite an impressive set of garbage cans in that depiction at the top of the page. Who will deliver a trash can for Starmer?
A truck driver drove me to Stonehenge; he told me all matter of memory from his war days … but … I admit to not understanding many words, so strong was his dialect. But it was a most memorable drive. He would just make his deliveries and tell more tales. A very pleasant fellow, he was.
I’d heard about this wet day in the UK, Billum. Glad you met someone ordinary to help you. Even if it was hard understanding him. Hehe!
I hope all are well at the Manor, my friend.
Every once in a while, it rains in the UK. So have I surmised without surprise. While being pelleted by hail stones, a kind person pulled over and gifted me a ride. Perhaps I looked pitiful standing there.
’twas fascinating listening to the bloke who dropped me off at Stonehenge, but more fascinating to view those famous stones.
All are fine, dandy, and hanging in there at Manor Crowell. We send you the best and the finest wishes for you this Tuesday — otherwise known as Wednesday Eve. Saith Ieth.
Great pictures, Gerry. Have a blessed week.
Thanks, Tim.
Please have a super week, Sir!