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Exam results in school, most at the bottom of the list,
In English, I came out top; I tried to be an odeist,
Wrote short stories, subjects ranging from history to a ghost,
By goodbyes were usually Tara, so I’m no linguist,
I often got beat up, they used sticks, boots & fists,
To survive, I had to use guile and feignest,
I didn’t realise it then, but I was a hippophagist,
I didn’t know the name then, but I was an immanentist,
Which made me brave when I went to the dentist,
Over four years, it was my only visit,
Dad pulled my teeth, using his pliers…
Each time, the pain was beyond bounteousness,
If I cried, Dad would get all blasphemous,
He sent me to the gym, amidst the bodybuilders,
Said I should be more sporty, less academical,
I’ve to learn how to box, be pugalistical,
Even then, I found that ironically comical,
The Sportsmaster trained 9-stone Nathaniel,
4-stone soaking wet me? The caretaker, Nigel,
In the first round, I was virtually unhittable!
Mind you, I never managed to hit Nathaniel,
In the second round, punches were exchangeable,
The third round started. Oh, hell!
He caught me with five, and I hit him once; it was painful!
I woke up in the shower,
His punch had too much power…
So shamed, I went home to cower…
The coppers were searching for Mother…
My losing the match didn’t seem to matter…
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A shortie again. The difficulties seem to come at me non-stop, even at weekends.
The plaster on the leg has just been replaced for the fifth time, and I can’t find any more plasters.
I’ll start with the photos I snapped after getting up and nearly falling out of the flipping bed.

The fourth Lymphorrhoea Leslie bloodied plaster, with the tape that I had to use for the third time, cause I can’t find where I put the tape either.

Another mystery this morning.

The left wrist wound was looking likely to improve.
Carer Ejaz titivated it a bit later.

I received a phone call on the landline. The Neurology Surgeon’s assistant apologised for not calling yesterday. I also received a text message. She will be phoning on Monday and will email the questionnaire for me to fill in. Or was this yesterday? I sense I’ve written this before.
This Premorbid Cognitive Impairment that they have rediagnosed for me is worse than what they said before, Dementia Doreen was. I swear!

As for next week’s events;
As the Carer is unavailable on Wednesday due to accompanying me to the dentist, no laundry can be done, and the kitchen & wetroom cannot be cleaned and mopped. And no help with the finances or Emails can be had. Bearing in mind that Monday & Tuesday will be busier and more hectic than ever, I won’t be in any condition to go to the dentist on Wednesday…
I’m a smidge nervous for next week.
Poor silly-old-sausage!
I’ve just ordered some sausages to arrive next week… Guess what day the cheaper delivery day is? Yes, Wednesday evening!
I hope that I can get the blog done, but anticipate that I’ll have to give up for a few days. I’ll never catch up again, anyway.
Worra Life!
Still, I must not complain; many are worse off than I am, who have things more severe than I do.
I apologise for moaning. Bless you all.

Early snap taken of the early morning view, with  Kodak Tim 2.

Oh, by the way, I had a repeat of the below four times this Saturday.

I’m still hoping… 
Lots of unexpected, no-warning
blasts from the rear-end. Hehehe!

The front junk room, which will only get worse next week without the Carers’ help, depressed me.

Another mystery photo I found on
the SD card. It might be a badly
taken shot of the bed. But why?

The mudslide is coming on again.

I got the chips out ready for later.

Carer Aheo did the second short call.
Carer Mizra called for the third medication. The lad put a new plaster on the leg injury. He also found the medical tape and wrapped some around the plaster. Thanks, Mirza!

I’m off to make a meal now.
Try to get it eaten before the Carer arrives.
It might be Carer Ejaz.

More to follow… Not a lot…