Inchie: Saturday 27th September 2025

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1 believe I came across a phenomenon,
A prognostication visiting the psychometrician,
The man was a bit of a pecksniffian…
He asked if I indulge in procreation…
He noticed my tackle was positively pygmean,
We didn’t get as far as any prognostication,
One trait I have plenty of is being plebeian,
His suggestion, for my next Odes pultrusion…
My ailments & failures, now in profusion,
Said my heart failure is down to poor perfusion,
I’m not sure if he was a Doctor, a homoeopath, or a surgeon…
A consultant, obstetrician, or a prison physician,
Was it I or he who was the pigwidgeon?
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Ejaz graded this dollop as a 7½ rating.

Carers desk.
Rubbish bags.

Washed nightshirt hanging to dry

A murder of crows.
Regaining their territory. Young ones searching for carrion in the end car park. All part of parent training.

A much-belated start on this blog.

Must call Sister Jane in the morning. And Jenny, too.

A day of without a single visit from, also perhaps the brain-foggiest one since I got back from the hospital.
The increased pain from the knee fractures was tolerable. However, they eased suddenly at night, and for hours I could walk about with relatively little pain. Naturally, in the morning, they were back again, but it was an unexpected experience that I enjoyed. But I would have preferred to have had a visit from . Anne Gyna and Toothache Tiffany were both far less painful, too.
It was my brain that worried me a smidgeon. Active, but wayward, and when I got to sleep, activated and ruined what otherwise would have been a decent 5-hour kip.
Constantly waking up, and getting back asleep, only to find that was waiting for me. I got to the point of trying not to nod off again, and lay there mind-blankly waiting fearfully for the inevitable dropping off again, and of course, he just would not leave me alone. Churning over past errors, options taken, guilt creating and multiple embarrassing memories… non-stop. Of course, I am aware that it is me, my warped brain. This was like a self-lambasting, everlasting nocturnal period of self-hatred. Despite the knee agony that had returned, I had to go through the pain of getting up to go to the Porcelain Throne… and that was still controlled by , and only wind was passed. But that was better than listening and arguing with myself mentally. Steve had not been bothering me for ages; even in the hospital, he was noticeable by his absence.
I suppose I’ll have to mention this to the Neurologist at the meeting. Here, on the blog, I just tell it as it is. But sitting face-to-face with someone to say to them is a different experience. Hey-ho!
You never know, I might wake up in the morning, somersault out of bed while yodelling and do a backflip… free of pain, vision and hearing repaired and working, or not.

And that was only a fleeting morning visit.

I believe my brain has lost its perception
logicality, discrimination & elucidation

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