Inchie Today: Monday 18th August 2025

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Some things contractable, may be pleasurable,
I recall Suzanne, Grizelda and Mabel,
Take care getting your feet under the table,
Beware of disparity, that’s over-respectful,
Disease, bad habits and greed can be contaigable,
Starmer’s all three, yet he keeps out of trouble,
Is there no one who can burst his bubble?
Keirs bent, a liar, but where is the decrial?
How does he remain inextirpable?
To truth, morals, honesty; he’s extrinsical
I think they may like him at Arsenal,
His promises, principles & odd eschewal…
He escapes justice by being cleverly fissilingual,
Decent people consider him to be a furuncle,
Full of infection, like a toothache or a gumboil,
Hostage, sausage, unintelligible,
Once a barrister, so versed in being liable…
Falsifying, jury-misleading, vilificational,
He told the plain truth once, it was unintentional,
As PM, he is unstoppable, uncontrollable…
He does as he likes, he’s ungainsayable,
I think he should be censurable,
Each decision he takes makes someone miserable,
If he contracted a painful disease, groinal…
I wouldn’t be so hypocritical…
If he snuffs it, hodiernal…
Citizens’ happiness would be eternal!
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Will disasters, worries, concerns, seizures, my ailments, lousy luck, mental problems, eyesight, hearing, loneliness, sarcasm, hatred of Starmer, my Virgin Media computer, and mobile and telephone problems ever ease off, relent?
That was a daft question!

Woke at 04:30hrs: The feet needed a soak in soap and some Dettol. Carried out the early Health Checks. BP had gone down a lot.

I took a leisurely paced trip to the wet room to carry out the needs of my phooey body. The Porcelain Throne session produced no movement again. I’ll have some of the Pakistani vegetable curry later; the last time I had it, I ended up with four trips to the Porcelain Throne the following day.
The shaving went fantastically. Just one cut on the neck. The scab on the head wound dropped off.  
Shaving in a bowl of water nearly turned into a calamity when I slipped while getting out. I lunged for the sink to steady myself and avoided a tumble. I banged my wrist doing so, and I put some Germolene on it later. To be right, it was another decent morning for the ailments. Anne Gyna had returned, but Duodenal Donald and Arthur Itis’ knees were no hassle. Cartilage Chloe threatened to give way on me in the afternoon, but I survived unfallen. Haha!
I think I took the ablutions too early to find out if the computer would work when I boot it up.

From the balcony, I took shots of the views.
Above is my beloved Tree Copse.
Then, the end of the car park was snapped. Usual parking from the little red car.
Down from the window.

Getting seated at the computer, I took this shot. It was my knees under the colourful thin Kaghoule that I’d decided to try.
Carer Ejaz arrived before I could try out the computer. He issued the medications and checked those delivered yesterday, or possibly Saturday. If not, Friday. He put on my diabetic socks. He was a smidge late coming, so he didn’t have time for me to tell him about the need for phone calls to be made. The dentist, audio clinic and Dentist.
A nice lad. Took the waste bag with him.

Another fail!

Then on the computer. I can’t believe it was working. Mind you, it was very slow. But working! I spent four hours trying to catch up on yesterday’s blog, but it was a real mental workout. Carer Nimra arrived.
I asked if she could make the phone calls to the three places. I explained that if I don’t contact them to cancel tomorrow’s appointment, they will still charge me. She rang Easy Link. Nimra confirmed that medical appointment lifts need 7 days’ notice.
But she didn’t have time to rig the Audio centre, or the Dentists. And Ejaz was unable to. I suspect that I’m going to get a £50 bill from the dentist’s. Unless Nimra can ask the ICC (Inner City Carers) office to try to get in touch. It’s too late now anyway, I’ve got to give 24 hours’ notice. Grangnagles!

I scuffed my leg against the potato drawer.
Minutes later, the friendly District Nurse arrived. She checked the leg, which was now covered in a new plaster. Inspected and passed my back passage, declaring it was okay now. And adjusted the catheter contraption. She didn’t seem too concerned about the recent rises in the BP returns. So, I’m not. 

Carer Ejaz arrived. I tried to explain about the situation with the phone calls about Easy Link, the Audio Centre and the Dentist. Then… as Ejaz went to take off the diabetic socks…
He was disgusted to see the leg, pouch straps, and sleeve covered in urine. I apologised as best I could; it’s not very pleasant for anyone to sort out. But he did, and readjusted things afterwards. Bless him. How the urine escaped was obvious; the release valve was in the open position. I’m struggling more than ever. Making mistakes, I’ve not done before, repeatedly.
I fear that I am getting closer and closer to being moved into a home of some sort.

If I had some extra care hours, it would definitely help. But the cost would be beyond my means.

I made a meal, and sank as I did it, into an even Deeper Darius state. I was doing things automatically. My mind is musing over so many other things that are beyond my capabilities, coming at the same time.

I didn’t make it into bed. About 00:00hrs, I fell asleep in the c1966, £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 recliner.
Shooting awake to find it was 03:15hrs. Immediately, Thought-Storming-Steve burst into life, not the slightest chance of getting back to the land of nod.
Concerns, worries, & fears matured and stewed…

TTFN