The computer came on this morning – Thurs, 3rd try.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Heartbreaking
A broken Inchie.
Warden did not come back to try to get me into the banking site. Have I got owt left in there or not?
The new computer has scattered more icons and messages than it was intended, which has added confusion for me; I didn’t understand most of them. On the opening screen… I say opening screen; yesterday, I couldn’t even open it. So late at night, when it decided to let me get in, in sleep mode.
The One Stop COMPUTER SHOP. Sherwood

I wonder if they are on TrustPilot? No, fancy that.
On Facebook, though, I can’t access that!
Likely all part of a master-con, on Congniscent Impairment and handicapped, going senile old me.
Gullible me, too! I expect the Computerman is overloaded after his holiday. He took nearly two months to get to look at the old computer.
So, time and hope yet.
A physical and mental wreck. Not knowing drives you mad. In desperation, I phoned the NCC Procurement Sustainment Chief Officer for help. He rang Warden, she rang me, and came later in the week on Friday, 3rd June, to try and sort out why I could not get into the bank site. Did a grand job in sorting it out. But ran out of time as she found that my mobile was wrong. Yet, they send threats and problems to me on it?
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Am I moaning? YES!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Apart from the fungal lesion on Little Incjie bleeding worse, Frustration Frank being Rampant,
night of mind-hassling, bringing worries to the fore.
Colin Cramps, Kidney Ken,
Carers have no time to ring the dentist for my special toothpaste. I’ve let the hot tap run cold for two days.
I’m getting much more confused each day. Although confused is not the word. Nearly out of fresh food, including bread. I have tons of tinned stuff in the cupboards. I’ll manage.
I’m in the right state, mentally.
Help? What’s That Then?
I need it now, please.
My premorbid cogniscence impairment is, I know, getting worse each day. Even at night, when all the problems presented themselves and kept recurring, I’m now certain they will never be resolved.
You should do this, or that. Advice is all I get. No help with formulating and doing it. A year ago, I think I may have coped. As the brain gets more affected, depression deepens when I realise I can’t go on like this… but have no choice. I have, and am ashamed of thinking of it. I’ve never before. Things are getting too complicated.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I intend, when, or rather if the computer ever works properly, to just do an Ode, cartoon, and the BP results.
This must be the end of my moaning, cause whining and grumbling have left me getting nowhere. Tsk!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Grim: Aye-up Inchie, still got pains abdominal?
Inch: Here & there, I’m feeling abysmal…
Grim: You’re bad physical and mental…
I could take yer soul today, I’m able!
Inch: Ave yer gorrowt for me arsenical?
Grim: Good God, are yer feeling suicidal?
Inch: Just once last night, worries were torrential,
Grim: I can take yer soul astrological, to make it botanical,
The Angels do it, it’s all done alchemically,
Inch: I never knew that! Do you do MY life’s appraisal?
Grim: Nae, that’s up to God & the devil,
Inch: That sounds a smidgeon apocryphal?
Grim: If yer kill yersen, death’ll be anachronical!
Inch: You said I’d die as Earth goes all apocalyptical?
Grim: Ah, I said that to confuse yer, a ferhoodle!
Inch: No wonder my brains are in such a muddle…
Grim: I like a giggle, talking fissilingual,
The gaffer made me wise, and gnosticle…
Inch: Well, he made me spend ages in the hospital,
Grim: He gave you a guide interacerebral!
So you can glean things psychological,
Inch: Oh, the voice in my head, Abdul?
Grim: We call him Dementia Michael.
You won’t be welcome if you go suicidal,
Inch: Well, I think I might be too idle…
Grim: You might be made a reaper, it’s possible,
He can make a reaper of one dejected, immitigable,
Inch: Will I need to be meritorious, laudable?
If I do top missen, is being a reaper liable?
Grim: Yeah, but for politicians, it’s Nowheresville!
Inch: Me bad un missing teeth and pustule?
Grim: Good! make you look like a puckle…
This death lark, no need to get all frenetical!.
Inch: To be honest I feel pretty apathetical…
Grim: You’ll gerra new soul & body, ultimately,
Inch: Is this why my life’s been lived so miserably?
Mental and physical complications, much agony?
IGrim: You’ll snuff it while yer thinking, psychologically,
Inch: Is that good, would it go beneficially?
Grim: Well, it’s best you wait and see.
I’ll collect yer soul and guide you, Inchie,
Inch: Bless yer, that’s good enough for me!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –