Inchie: Fri-Sat-Sunday 19th October 2026

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FRIDAY 16th OCTOBER 2026
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Right leg wounds are much better.
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Tried to clear the Carer’s desk a bit
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🍅Food Glorious Food!🍅
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Vegan smoked cheese, frozen seasoned chips,
Sweet & Sour chicken meals.
Pot noodles and soft milk roll bread
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A Carer arrived at 13:00hrs with eight letters he’d collected from the hallway letterbox.
After he’d departed, I began to investigate the mail.
They were all from the Alzeiners Association. Offering information on my two new Dementias. Advice on coping. They also offered opportunities to attend various association meetings and explained what they involved. Ejaz later estimated what taxis and carers would cost and, using Google Maps, how far away each one was. 
I got more envelopes opened. My head was spinning. Confusion grew, and I made a brew.
I returned to open the last, larger package; inside was a 96-page booklet. Along with the letters, I had 16 email addresses to contact, 21 telephone numbers, and 12 addresses that might be useful.
 I was totally bamboozled, confused… at a loss.
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I wanted to ask Ejaz to phone Oligarchal British Gas about their 8th failed promise that an engineer would call, even after Ejaz was given a confirmed, guaranteed two-hour window when he last rang them, for this record-breaking 8th engineer or electrician no-show.
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Late afternoon
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= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
SATURDAY 17th OCTOBER 2026
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Right leg clearing… or is it?
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Started these blogs, darned hard work in the mood I’m in.
My mind is in mayhem and wandering.
But I’m determined to get this done if it takes me the rest of Sunday night & into Monday. I am a fool!
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Morning snap
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Lunchtime
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Evening or morning.
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SUNDAY 18th OCTOBER 2026
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Was the surprise of the day. On Sunday morning, I was at my lowest ebb, well, ever.
Memories of some of the things that happened on Saturday were churning in my head, unstoppable.
I was so low, and with no one to talk to, and embarrassingly, I phoned Jenny. Just to express my fear of what is happening to me. Depressed, self-loathing, along with the reality that it is not going to get any better again. Old age, the Dementias, the expectation that the Catheter is going into backup mode again, and this may clash with Tuesday’s visit to the Audio Centre to get both hearing aids checked out again. Even the train of my self-mutterings got mixed up and lost. I rambled on verbally telling Jenny how I felt. Ashamed of how I was not coping very well. Not even certain of all that I did speak of now. But when Jenny, a great listener and so understanding, went to get Frank’s food cooked, I almost instantly felt somehow less harassed, less anxious. and visits from High Horis, short and sharp but repetitive, sent me into several ‘Sod-It-all’ moments. Nothing changes, of course, other than I seem to accept things and block others out at the same time. It took me ages to put into words what I just wrote. This gave me the power to try to catch up on the blogs. The only breaks for the next eight hours were Carers calling, moments, few and incredibly short, of utter depression; the unaccountable ‘sod-it’ highs persisted. None of this makes sense, I know.
Ah, well, must get some more done.
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Cleaned the inside of the fridge this afternoon. Not voluntarily, mind you. There was water all over the place in there that needed tending to. This brought back a mini-depression; at the thought of it breaking down and needing to buy a new one. With the Carer’s extra hours, the £430-a-week cost will increase to, well, I don’t really know. Has to be near to… I’d better not mention it. 
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Finished drying the fridge out, and put the towels on the airer, and kitchen towels in the bin. A very slight feeling of satisfaction came over me, no idea why, and I put the kettle on to make a brew and did some more sorting of the empty boxes in the bedroom. Then an unwanted, deep, dark, dank depression set in as I realised I should have tackled this long ago. A few minutes later, though, I was glad they were scattered there…
: Stepping over the dryer, I lost my balance and my walking stick and fell forward. I don’t know what on or against, but I gave my snozzle a clout; it bled a smidge. It was a bit of a shock; it happened so quickly, but thankfully those boxes broke my fall! But the best part was that I didn’t hit the floor, because one of the boxes on the bottom still had some things in it. It took the scab on my left knee right off, and as I was concentrating on grabbing the ottoman nearby, I felt no pain. Best of all, I got up on my own, with the help of the spare walking frame at hand. I went into the wet room to clean up my knee, and my balance must have been off, because I walked into the doorframe on the way in. That did hurt.
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I made a lovely-smelling meal that not many would appreciate, but I was going to eat it later. Bombay potatoes from a can. Cooked some baby spuds in soy-sauced water. Added garden peas and sweetcorn. I’m not supposed to eat sweetcorn according to the list of dos and don’ts. But I’ve not had any for about twelve years, so I did.
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I left it in a microwave pot, put the lid on, put it in the fridge, and got back to this blog. Carer Prem arrived; I like this lad. He always gets the torch and TV glasses on the ottoman for me. Does safety checks, checks my body, takes off my socks, and checks the dates on stuff in the fridge. Cheers, Prem! 
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