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Inchie Today: Wednesday 15th July 2026
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I leapt out of the bed, did a double somersault, and a few press-ups… Woke wearily, instantly in a depression, and after a good while, forced myself to get up and unattached the nocturnal Catheter pouch.  
Interested, well, almost, in seeing if the Blood Pressure had dropped yet, I got the tackle out and utilised the 
sphygmomanometer. Flipping heck, supposed to ring 111 again. But I dare not ring them. I know what would happen: take a taxi straight to the QMC-A&E; this is considered an Emergency Situation. With the £30 quid needed to get there & back, no Carer to help me get dressed, and the memories of the hellish last visit to the A&E in mind, I’ll not bother. What’s the point?
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The nasty letters from last afternoon caught my attention as I went to get my hearing aid in. British Gas is telling me the RTS signal has now been switched off across Great Britain (Oligarch-ruled). Again, they are going on about the electricity meter. A quick catch-up on this. For at least three years, they have been asking for a meter reading. I’ve called them to ask how to take it, but it doesn’t seem to have the coloured buttons they told me it had. And the Carer Ejaz spent ages on the phone with them. He even took photos of the meter and sent them to Oligarch-Ruled British Gas. They continue to send demands that we let them have a reading for years. Now, a new tactic. Surely they know they promised a visit today to sort out the meter. Confirmed by two Carers, Edward and Mizra. So, how come there are clandestine threats in this communication? Are they necessary? Just like the Untrustworthy Trustee Bank, both should use the slogan: Customer-Service-Not-Available. 
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Evening all
Sun’s out again
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Sadly
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Made a right mess of this!
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Many moans, groans, things gone wrong, depression attacks, and sulking were missed off today. Not to mention England’s second-half performance. 
I’m not complaining. I’m just absolutely, totally fed up to my two-and-¾s back teeth with moaning.
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