Inchie Today: Friday 22th August 2025

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In Poor Ode, with bad spelling,

A Co-op greenfruit & fresh fish shop I was managing,
I locked up the shop on a Thursday, half-day closing,
At the traffic lights, my mobile started ringing,
Bulwell manager asked if I could spare sharkfin,
“Aye, I can, I’ll get back to the shop. When are yer coming?”
“I’m on my way now!” So I did some reversing,
Back to the store, with the burglar alarm activating…
Someone had kicked their way in,
The Bulwell man would soon be arriving…
This front door’s where they’ll be escaping,
The back door had an impenetrable cast-iron grating,
It dawned on me that’s where I was standing,
Stand or run ideas kept alternating…
I bent down to the letterbox to have a look in,
Two hefty guys from the safe were appropriating…
cash, into a bag they were hastily filling,
The police were slow in coming,
They beckoned me in, and I was shaking,
The tall one said Any more cash for the taking?
No, I just did the banking!
Ah, a police siren I was hearing,
They panicked a little; my nerves were rattling,
I moved to the front, hitting the storage racking,
And sent a 56lb bag of potatoes falling,
Hitting a perp, sending him tumbling…
Hitting his head, I thought he looked dead,
His mate went to him, as his head had bled…
The police burst in, they almost appauded…
Things were not as they appeared,
My part in the proceedings was acknowledged,
5’3” me, stood over burglars, one winded, one wounded,
The whole situation got distorted,
They mentioned my part in their being captured,
In court, when they were prosecuted,
Then they saw what the CCTV had recorded…
My false heroic pride, suddenly circumducted!
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Slept in this morning, didn’t wake until 06:10hrs. Then got the grade five night pouch detached…  No, no, I fib. I woke up for the first time around 03:00ish, and seemingly every five minutes after that, but just fell asleep again each time. Reluctant to rise for some reason.

Meandered into the kitchenette to get the kettle on. Pottered about for a good while, then paid a hopeful visit to the Porcelain Throne. Another half hour wasted, all that urging, pushing, & forcing came to nothing.
I’m beginning to wonder how much longer I can go without an evacuation. Before my innards explode?

The clouds were not colourful this morning. But by gum, they held a beauty that I could see. Likely thanks to .

Carer Elaz arrived and gave me the medications. He then helped me wash my feet in antiseptic disinfectant, dried them, and applied some of the new diabetic foam. He’s a good lad, but had to rush off to his next client. I no longer have a memory worth anything. When some of them ask, Is there anything else? I blank out, especially if the seizures are visiting, which makes things even worse.

I was struggling with my concentration suddenly, and departed. When I started to drink my mug of tea, the bloody seizures kicked off. No long ones yet, but God knows how many that I had. I’m sure I had two in the morning, but from then on, until Carer Nirma did the tea time one, it’s all a blank to me. All the signs were there of after effects. I hadn’t cleared my head by the time she arrived, and I had no idea if she’d noticed. She did, though, catch my sore throat through my croaky voice. At least I think she did.
Anything from here on can and must be taken with a pinch of salt.

I vaguely recall taking these shots from the balcony. The first one was taken, and then the second one some time later.
I think I was on WP typing in reply to Billum’s comment about the red car.

A break in the seizures was welcome. Things cleared up a lot, and I realised I’d let the catheter bag fill too much as I stood up. Oh, dearie me. The weight in the bag tugged on Little Inchys fungal Lesion. 

Carer Mirza arrived and took off the socks when I requested it. I remembered! He also put the diabetic foam on the dry skin on my legs, and asked if I needed Peptac or Cough Medicine. Nice, lad.

The plan for tonight’s meal is: Garden peas. Ready-made cheesy mashed potatoes, warmed in the oven after adding a dollop of Leicester red cheese, salt & no-butter butter and mixing it all up together. Into the oven, and just before the tatties are fully crisped on the top, add the peas. Two cheesy-topped bread rolls, a side pot of sauce, and some brown tomatoes to round it off. How does that sound? Then I’ll add a Polish Farmhouse sausage.

I was pleased with the result.
I ate all of it. (Gannet!)

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TTFNski!
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12 thoughts on “Inchie Today: Friday 22th August 2025

  1. Now a larger car is following the example of the infamous red car. The chevron consequently receives more parkers, doth it appear.
    50 pounds of tatters is a fair number of errant tatters, it doth also appear.
    Been a while since 1980, as I now recall. Haha!! Worra distant decade.

    • All the bags of loose potatoes were 56lb in weight in those days, Billum. I wondered about if it was the same car, Billum.
      Getting close to your birfday Sir.

      • Yer wonder why that number of 56, well, at least I do.
        And, indeed, had I mentioned that I was born on my mother’s birthday? Worra birfday gift! Well, you are already 78 — unless you were born on one of these waning days of August. Either way, by 17 September we’ll be the same age, kind Sir! Happy Birfday!!
        My older sister will hit 80 next year. Wowsers! My youngest sister is still in her 60s. Haha!!

      • All these numbers confuse me me nowadays, Billum. They confirmed I had Arithmophobia last year. Nothings changed. Mr Google tells me there are things they can do to ease my frustration.
        I’m stuck indoors in this cell. Which makes my computer it all the more important for me, mate.
        You are doing well relation’s-wise, Sir.
        Cheers.

    • Cheers, Tim.
      Strange you said that Sir. Tonight I’m too drained to cook anything. I am about to have a wash, make a brew, drink it and dunk some biscuits.
      Too many mini-seizures this afternoon, recovering takes it out of you.
      I’d not heard much about your President on th news, hope he’s alright.

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