Inchie: Wednesday 11th February 2026

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It’s tomorrow morning, approximately 01:00hrs, and I’ve only just started this blog.
I didn’t have the Ezetimibe tablet last night. The Doctor recommended that I take it in the morning. However, the weird staying awake and with it has started again. Humph! 
I’ll use the photos to remind me, and can recall the dangerous trip to the Doctors (bad), the visit (OK), & trip back (Good). The trip there and back each involved Accifaupas… several.
I woke up, with on the rampage. emptied the Catheter bag, and got the kettle on as I slowly regained my senses. Well, I say regained, I mean searched for any remnants of sense, and pretended to find some.

I took snaps of the foggy morning.

Made the brew of Co-op 99 tea, sorted the waste bags, and flew into the wetroom… well, hurriedly hobbled into the wetroom. Trotsky Terence was in full control. I’m getting fed up with the evacuations alternating so often.
As usual with Trotsky, I had a long job cleaning up after the event.
I gathered the necessary ablutional items, towels, cloths, picker-upperer, cut-plasters, bowl, and disinfectant for soaking my feet while I shaved at the sink. First  Accifauxpas: I slipped when I carefully (I thought) lifted my feet out of the bowl. I did not go over, but I strained the right shoulder and back as I urged my body towards the shower chair for support. Used paper towels to dry the plates-of-meat, using the picker-upperer to avoid bending down. Back to start the shaving, it went well, I thought, and it seemed all done in a quick time. Being a pareidoliaser, I spotted the nose & face in the paper towels in this photo, can you see it?
Back to the kitchen and snapped the same view as earlier. Blue mist now. Realising I’d not finished shaving. I noticed the foam on my face. I’m quick sometimes yer know. Haha! Well, shall we settle for a lot slower than I used to be, but not worried too much, as at least I’m not losing it. Well, that’s another Starmer (lie), ’cause it’s apparent I am losing it, but I’ve given up worrying about it.
The early morning delivery arrived, and I got it sorted as best I could. As I finished the job, Carer Ejaz arrived.
When he did a body check on me, he took off my hat, and photographed the top of and back of my head. Declaring that I had got 18 cuts from shaving. All tiny, and the bloblets of blood had gone hard. I thought he was joking. I felt the neck and head, and I could feel each one. Medications were given, and Phorpain Gel was applied. Said ‘Tara!’ and I went to the kitchen and took a third shot of the view. Changed again.
I grafted away, finalising Tuesday’s post and sent it off to WordPress. Ejaz returned at midday for medication, if needed, and a safety check. Said he would be back later for the trip to the Doctors. Ejaz returned, and I gave him cash for the bus fares he needed. He arrived a little later than planned, so we forgot things as we rushed to catch the bus, Ejaz putting the laundry in the washer as we went out.
When we got to the bus stop, we realised we were too late. Ejaz merrily said, “Ah, well, we’ll walk down”
Accifauxpas Hill, I’ve renamed Winchester Street.
Ejaz was ahead of me, and I was struggling to keep up with him, especially with pushing the three-wheeled walker on the muddy, leaf-filled, broken tarmac of the footpath. Then, pains started right across my chest as I was not breathing too easily. (Once I got down on level ground, the pain began to dissipate). However, I walked into a garage door, then a telegraph pole.
We got on Mansfield Road and went to a bus stop. I tipped on getting into the bus. The trip was only three bus stops, but walking it would have meant another steep hill to climb.
We got into the Surgery, signed in, and sat down. I fell asleep (Exsertions?) Ejaz and the Doctor woke me, and into the room we went.
The first Question was: Why have you come to see me today? I replied, You sent me an email asking me to come? I’m sure we discussed me moving into a home. The Seizures. The Ezetimibe might be the cause of my change in sleep pattern. The Doctor said that it is unlikely and suggested taking the tablet in the morning, not at night. They were not meant to be taken at night. Then said she is going to send a phoo-sample kit to me, to be returned. Other things were spoken of, I think. I’ll ask Ejaz when he comes next.
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The trip home.
We left the Surgery and walked to the Lidl store, shot in, and I got some Custard Creams. Then we went out to catch a bus to Sherwood. Again, I tripped as I got into the vehicle. We alighted as I got off. I lost balance, but Ejaz was there like a shot. Told me to wait where I was, then ran up to check the bus timetable. Came back, and we crossed the road to the 40 bus stop. 
I got on board this bus with no bother,
It was rather full of passengers, many from the flats I recognised. There were only the pull-down, very low seats available. So I wedged myself into the corner of the disabled section. I held onto a bar at the window to keep myself steady. When we arrived at the flats, I’d wedged my arm between the bar and the window, and needed help to release it. Worra trip!

Here are some snaps from the trip home.
Mansfield Sherwood, where I stood as
Ejaz checked the bus times.
Not sure where this was.
Inchie at the bus stop.
Up towards the Dentist, Opticians,
and bus stop.
Inchie, next to the bookies.
On the bus.
En route.
Scarred Inchie, getting off the bus.
Walking to the flats.

Got inthe flat. Ejaz went to fetch the laundry.
Throwing it on the bed as he departed, tired, I imagine.
The back and shoulders kicked in again as I hung the clothes up.

Sunset.

I started prepping the photos, but ended up spending seven hours on this blog. Yes, the odd not getting tired was back again. I should feel shattered, but don’t? Then…
Another Whoopsiedangleplop!
All that time I’d sat at the computer, and thought, Blimey, I’ve not emptied the Catheter, so I did.
Two more hours as 04:00hrs approached, I stood up, and the warm feeling in my slipper, the now urine-soaked sock and slipper, made me so angry at myself.
I’d left the release valve open!
ARRGH! Cleaned up and washed the feet again. Hell of a job getting the socks off, ended up cutting them of the left foot. This started of and off. 
Now I was tired and worn out, and both came on almost suddenly. I was going to get belatedly into bed, but the things I started sorting earlier and had been forgotten about were still on the bedspread. I was so tired, I just got an ice cream cornet from the fridge, a couple of bags of Teriyaki crisps, and plopped down on 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. 
Zzzz!
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ATTTFN
A Tired, Ta-Ta For Now
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