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I do try to be amenable and amiable,
I do my best not to be annoyable…
Though I admit to being easily antagonisable,
Failure errors make me a little alarmable,
Help, solutions to problems are not acquirable.
So many difficulties, they’re incomprehensible,
The seizures & I are simply inseparable,
The promised financial help is indiscernible…
The disabled help turned out to be incorporeal.
My plea for extra Carer hours – Immitigable!
Had we a Goverment that was incorruptible…
My pleas that were considered as infeasible,
No help arriving, no rejections, it’s incomprehensible,
Worsening eyesight is thought to be irreparable,
This Government and I are incompatible…
They act more Tory than Labour,
Led by backhander-taker Herr Starmer,
Which Party can be our Saviour?
Your Party, led by Corbyn & Sultana?
With only one MP, that is Zarah Sultana,
They’ll need a miracle, something spectacular…
Your Party’s chances of winning? Less than slender!
Starmer, being an oligarchal ex-barrister…
He’s learned how to be a liar and be slier,
A shame that we can’t help him go higher,
To Heaven, to meet his Mother & Father?
Pensioners & farmers think Hell would be better!
Well, it’s time for me to scamper,
Not that I’m planning to scarper…
Just to have a shower, so as not to get smellier,
Before the arrival of Ejaz, my Carer,
And my brain gets any scattier,
Take Codeine; Fractured-Knee-Frank gets painfuller,
I wish I’d just stood up carefuller…
I tripped over a slipper!
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Morosely, reluctantly, wearily, and cantankerously, I forced myself to get out of bed. As I took off the catheter night pouch, I saw the calendar clock. Telling me it was 07:00hrs. I knew I’d got to bed late, I think about 01:00hrs; this meant I’d had a sleep, not interrupted by any of the ailments that I could recall, so
I’d got in six hours of kip! Grrreat! I made for the Porcelain Throne after a few balance exercises. But, my innards felt solid, yet informed me that I needed an expected Trotsky Terence evacuation. They lied! Nothing! Not a sausage!
Carer Manpreet arrived and helped sort the BP Check readings. I had a wobble while she was here, and she made me a mug of tea, bless her. No body checks needed, so she had time within the rota. The BP was down a smidge today. Good Stuff at last. I won’t get excited until I see that Fridays are lower as well.
After Carer Manpreet left, I realised that the catheter had not been changed again! Two or three weeks since a change now, I think. The tube and straps are getting painful now, too. I mentioned this to Carer Mirza during his lunchtime call. He said he’ll add the pouch changes to the mobile phone instructions.
I took this snap through the glass on the balcony, with rain leaking in through the gaps in the window. Do you notice any changes in parking habits?
As I was taking this view of the uphill gravel path… Oh, no! It’s the newly tarmacked path now, isn’t it?
As I was taking a picture of the newly tarmacked path up to Woodthorpe Grange Park, I passed wind involuntarily and hobbled hastily off to the Porcelain Throne. Where yet again, there was no motion or signs of an evacuation forthcoming. Hey-ho!
I updated the three-day post and sent it off to WordPress. Then I had a blast on the never-ending job of replacing the word lists from scratch that were lost in the ether, the clutches of the internet.
SHORT BUT LONG RECOVERIES.
Then, they took great pleasure in repeatedly throwing me into a haze of confusion and imbalance after each recovery period, which took me so much longer.
Not just the odd one today… Oh, no. I lost count of the little buggers. Nothing got done for hours, until, to my surprise, they stopped as suddenly as they started.
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The retired but still-working nurse who is tending to my
legs arrived.
I love her no-nonsense ways. 🤎
Carer Mizra did the early afternoon call. A grand lad, I had a bit of a whoopsie-Accifauxpas as he was leaving. I leaned on the end of the bed to pick up a dressing
gown that had slipped off the wardrobe hanger, and Shajing Shaun gave me a short but violent right-sided shaking session. And I caught my hand against the door’s spring clip. No bother for a man of my calibre, heroism, guts and a fibber. Haha!
Aha, got the TV going! A positive Smug-Mode was adopted. Then, when I took the SD card out to put this one on WordPress, I found another one that is a
complete mystery to me. A lot of things are, mind you.
I racked my brain to see if I could tell what it was of, when I might have taken it, and why? Nothing!
Carer Dilan did the last call. No medications needed or bag changes, I’ll take the medicines myself and put the nocturnal pouch on later after eating.

Nice!
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TTFNski EACH!
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Excellent ode. It’s good to get up late at times. I’ve gotten up late the last two mornings because it’s cold, and I had six cats piled on top of me, holding me down. It’s hard to get out of bed with such a comfort of kitties. Nice you got the TV going. The mystery shot is a masterpiece. Serious good outcome.
Thanks, Tim.
I only had Cyril and Lady purring awake on my chest – Gawd I loved that and miss them so much. Mustn’t get morose, though. If they put me in a home, I wonder if they’ll have a home cat or two in there? No, I suppose not.
Cheers Sir, all the best.
They should have house cats in a home, but there are probably people allergic to them, so I suppose not.
Ah, that’s a point, Tim.
I’m wondering if the VISITOR PARKING wordage inspires Chevron parkers, just a Billumish conjecture, of course. There are some homes here that have cat residents, but, of course, that may not be the case in Nottingham.
I also quite enjoyed that mystery photomograph. However it originated, it is strkingly colorful and intriguing.
And a good Billumish conjecture, say I!
My Sister Jane and Hubby Pete sold their house and moved into a very high class apartment nearby. Tey waited before moving until the last of her furries past away. They are not allowed any pets there either. Not that I could think of affording it, but as Tim said, there may be folks with allergies in the flats? Boy, do I miss waking up with the cats on my chest. Silly me.
Cheers Sir, to all at the Manor. 😹😻😸👍🏻🤎
Gosh, Gerry, having seizures is tough to handle, even worse than not having a poop, in my stupid opinion. I sure hope things get better for you. 💖🙏
Cheers, Tim. You’re spot with your diagnosis, Sir.
Being one eyed takes some getting used to as well. What bad luck with Ejaz arriving late and we missed the appointment with the optician. Still, got another for Wednesday. Hope he gets here on time.
Cheers, Tim. All the bestest of luck.
Yes, indeed. Good luck to you, Gerry. 😍🙏
Merci Mon Ami! 🌺