Accifauxpa – Page 3 – Inchie Today

Inchy: Saturday 3rd January 2026 High-Mood-Horis Day

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Trump, Putin & Starmer, I somewhat fear,
Not the individual, for them I despair,
But for the danger and power that they bear,
The results of their actions: the innocent incur…
Putin & Trump plainly desire world power…
Trump claiming rights to Iceland & Canada…
Puntim Ukraine, Poland & Romania,
The end is nigh, doesn’t anyone bother?
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My primary concern is the UK’s Herr Starmer,
Starmer is an even bigger, more persistent liar,
He learnt this skill when he was a barrister,
No weapons, so no desire for World power,
Self-wealth is his intention and desire,
But will this put the UK in a quagmire?
Our economy is already looking dire,
Pensioners, families, and farmers are dour,
Keir thinks hostages are sausages,
Welcomes all the incoming backhanders…
Arsenal season tickets, cash, aftershaves,
His own box with full hospitalities,
£100,000+gifts, £50,000, Trevor Chinn’s,
Vintage wine, £2,400 worth of spectacles,
Specatcles, Free use of two £18m penthouses,
£32,000 worth of work clothing, free passes…
to multiple sporting events and concerts,
personal shopping, £5,000 worth of clothes…
To be fair, they were for his missus,
A four-day stay in Wales, 4,500 pounds,
The Mail said there’s been more appetisers,
He rates farmers & pensions as wankers,
But he looks after his beloved bankers,
Blatantly misleading, he never apologises,
Can someone create new gunpowder plots
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Today’s moods varied greatly. Changing so often, I didn’t know how the heck I was supposed to feel sometimes. Gloomy amphigories, fearfulness, faux-contentment, a few moments of unwarranted self-lambasting… even with a phenomenal amount of mini-visits from , in between, but every time he remained or seemed to, for just a minute or two? These two extremes were both sparse on the ground today, and both for such short periods, I was actually confused at times. This is an opening that, I believe, reveals I need help from the NHS neurology department. Going potty is not an option; it’s just how things are. Even today, when to be honest, apart from the changing baffling moods, the day has gone (for me) very well up to now.
Ah, well!

I was woken up by the Carer calling to get in.
He did a thorough check on me. I advised him that no foaming, creaming, or barrier greasing was needed, as I was going to get scrubbed up, shaved, etc., after he left. Ejaz gave me my medications and was off on his way, taking the waste bag with him. Thank you, Sir. I took some photographs.

The & Session
Then I got everything ready to do the ablutions.
Off to the wet room, not knowing it would be my most extended ablution session ever. Early last, I think that was in January too, I recorded 2 hours and 10 minutes for a session. No longer the record!
Things started so well, the teeth were done first, no bleeding; however, as I opened the bottle of mouthwash, Lost-Grip-Lassie came into action, and the cap from the bottle flew out of my hand; I dropped the bottle, and the cap rebounded from the ceiling on my head and disappeared, I know not where. Lost a lot of time searching for it, fruitlessly. Throughout the day, I had two more searches without any luck.
Then the wall-mounted heater kept cutting out!
I got back to the ablutioning, taking a shave. This was a three-cut affair, and Lost-Grip-Lassie got involved. I dropped a razor, used the short picker-upperer to retrieve it from behind the WC pipe. How, why does everything I lose grip of and drop, seem to find its way to the most inaccessible place available? The bottle cap and razor had all those open gaps of the shower floor where they could have settled. But no! Never, always in a hidey-hole of some sort!
If I wrote a book about these incidents, no one on earth would believe it! Frustration was growing.
But the ablutions still needed doing. The heater is cutting out more than it stays on. I (Foolishly) thought I’d take a look at the regulator wheel. Of course, I could not make out which number it was on, thanks to Cayaract Katie. I reached up to turn the wheel, hoping it would come on again… ! I stretched to reach it, Lost Balance, Brenda nearly had me over, and I knocked several items off the floor cabinet. I didn’t note of which, but recall the Protection Pants, wrist alarm, and bottle of aftershave among the fallen items. More time was lost restoring them all to the cabinet. I while doing so. Now the self-labasting and giving myself a good talking to, started! My language was coarse, of course.
Then I needed to use the Porcelain Throne. Believing this might be a good thing, a sit-down and a calm-down moment? Huh! At least it was different
to the last few days, Trotsky Terence controlled messy affairs. The complete opposite! No idea how long it took me to get the stunted evacuation to start again, but it was a bloody and painful experience!
And still the ablutions had to be finished!
I had a good body scrub-up. During this, a visitor arrived. Then, I started on the Medicationisationings. The agony of Germoloiding Haemorrhoided Harold, and Little Inchies Fiungal Lesion… didn’t bother me in the slightest.
, was still here, you see! He’s like a medicine to me. Unfortunately, his call was a brief one, and almost as soon as he departed… well, you can guess ! I dropped the olive oil dropper putting in the ear drops, but the bottle didn’t break. The eye drops didn’t run down into my mouth. So despite Darius, the medicationing went well, although my mood was grumpy. And although I had to peel the top catheter strap from the dried blood, I seemed cool and calm about it all.
What’s going on? Came to mind.
As I was Phorpain gelling things I could get at, I distinctly recall coming on, and made a note of the happenings on the wetroom pad. And started singing; Frank Ifield’s ‘She Taught me to Yodel’!
Then the task of putting on the new protection pads. Usually, it is a risky and semi-dangerous job. I kid you not, I sailed through, kept my balance all the time.
Adjusted the straps on the catheter contraption, wiped of the blood… I was wondering at the time, am I still asleep and dreaming or what?
I moved on to humming ‘The Shadows Stars fell on Stockton’, B-side to Wonderful Land, 1962. I couldn’t do the whistling anymore, not enough teeth left.

I brewed a pot of tea and sat by the computer, taking this photo. I heard Ejaz as he left, saying I’m behind time. And noticing he said this around 08:00hrs. Later, when I put the picture on, I realised that I must have been in the wet room for just under three hours! No wonder I don’t wash often, I can’t find the time between Carers calling. Then with food deliveries. Emptying the day bag. Check calls, telephone calls, emails, and calls of nature. The nurses will do the legs and change the catheter. INR Warfarin blood tests. Hospital appointments, Dentist checks. How do I find time to do the blog? I stay up into the morning, mainly to catch up. Being deaf, Cataract Katie is back again. Lymphorrea Leslie, Fractured Knee Frank, Bad Back Belinda, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley, Toothache Tiffany, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Doreen Dementia, Obstructive Hydrocephalus (water on the brain), and Reflux Roger, Mechanical Aorta Alan. Not to mention the Seizures… Oh, I just did. Hahaha!
This morning really got to me, but things calmed down in the afternoon and evening.
The only thing that tested me apart from the wetroom farce was Horis and Darius making so many calls, in sync, one then the other.

A close-up of the City Hospital
They did my mechanical aorta heart op, prostate cancer, and food poisoning treatments. 🤎
City Hospital in the distance.

Bit of nothingness here, (I’m good at that.
Top pen Deeper black, £2
Bottom pen, ordinary black. 45p
I can’t see any difference between them,
nor can my Carer, Elaz.

Earle evening.

Sundown, early this time of year.

2 hours later, what colouring!

Wow!
I double-clicked, Tsk!

Well, Carer Ejaz just arrived.
After which I went to WP Reader, then to the comments; at this moment in time, neither of the mood swingers, nor is with me… It’s lonely. Haha!

I enjoyed this one!

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TTFNski!
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Inchy: Friday 2nd January 2026

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All my life I’ve refused to accept disorder…
I’ve never committed a crime or misdemeanour,
My upbringing? High-quality, premier,
Excellent, I couldn’t have been luckier!
With the girls, this made me ultra popular,
Scored 100 goals a season in school soccer,
Had the best sex ever with Grizelda,
Came top of my class at school: Grammar,
Postgraduate certificate & level 8 diploma,
BSc, MSc, PhD, then a Senior Scientific Researcher,
Went to Australia, became a cattle drover,
Millionaire at 30, 4 Rolls-Royces owner,
Had a marriage proposal from Elizabeth Taylor,
Affairs with Diana Rigg, Judi Dench, & Jane Asher,
Gave advice on the moon landing to NASA,
Helped find the Titanic as a saturation diver,
Retired, & went crocodile hunting in Toowoomba,
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Once again, I was so reluctant to get out of bed.
I lay there, discovering that Little Inchies’ fungal lesion had bled… The ontercom burst into life at the thought of getting out of bed, and to the panel in time; Dark, Dank, Depressing Darius was with me.
I didn’t make it in time, and the Carer called again. I mumble some sort of half-hearted apology, and I admitted him into the prison… no, the building.
I was not with it at all. The first minutes of the Carers call were a jumbled mix of memories.
The Carer issued the medications, and after taking them, I was slightly more compos mentis with things.
The lad talked me through what I needed to make my Bombay potatoes taste better, then left me a confused Inchie, as we said our farewells. I don’t think he is doing any more calls on me today.

Depression Darius was making up for his absence yesterday. I found it hard to instil any interest in things at all this morning. I reckon that Mind-Mangling-Malcolm was present for the majority of the day.
I had a chat with myself, self-lambasted me for a while, asking why I am in this mood? I got no answer.

I sort of went through the motions for most of the morning. The usual drifting off whatever I was doing, ended up with five or so plans started, none getting completed. And I’m angrier with myself.

I did get some photos done, though.
Stupidly, I went out onto the balcony to take my regular shot of the end-of-the-road car park. I took it through the window, so it came out pretty awful.
I got back inside as quickly as I could, by gawd, it was so cold out there.
Tripping over the door runners and clouting my right shoulder on the doorframe. A couple of curse words later, I closed the door and trapped my finger as it slid closed. I added a couple of stronger words, and Darius deepened his grip. Why? Yesterday was such a pleasure, too.
Irritable with myself and probably the world as well, I went into the kitchen to take a window view. That came out a little better.

I got the computer started, and took a snap of it for some reason, I left the flash on and caught it on the photograph. This would not have bothered me in the slightest bit if it had happened yesterday. But it wrangles me, and although impossible, I know, cause he’s not real. He is in my neurologically-affected mind, but I imagined that was mocking and laughing at me.
“Bonkersness is not essential for survival, but I do think it helps sometimes.” Inchies’ Words of Wisdom.
I can’t believe the change in my attitude today.

I’m getting irked, nettled, piqued, narked, and even disturbed at the slightest thing that goes, or to be precise, that I do wrong. S The going and doing wrong is a daily practice for me, it has been for a year or more now. Yesterday was the best day of the year for me. I was calm… maybe not in control, but let’s not ask for miracles, eh? I’ll be wanting world peace next!

The first day of the year that fooled me, caught me on the hop, and rekindled a hope long unused. That things might be getting better for me…

I took another snap from the window. To my right, that didn’t cheer me up either. The state of the poor tree copse, the jobboes have been at it again.
About midday, I got the computer on. And a Carer called as I took this snap, hearing aids and batteries, vaseline, heart-failure shot if needed, olive oil for the ears, drops for the eyes, Toothache Tiffany spray, and with the ‘Cool’ clock-calendar on view.

The Carer, Dilan, asked me for Codeine, Peptac and Paracetamol. He then asked me if I needed Paracetamol, Peptac or Codeine. We still find it hard to understand each other. I asked him for an effervescent Paracetamol. I broke open the capsule, added it to my spring water bottle, and took the Codeine with it. Then helped myself by grabbing the Peptac bottle and taking a guzzle of it. Off Dilan went on his round.

Back to start on the computer. Launched CorelDraw, and began to upload piccies from Koak Tim 2’s SD card…

CorelDraw then disappeared from the screen, leaving the desktop showing. I handled this situation calmly…Well, I think I did. The normal expected first response expletive that rhymed with hollyhocks. But with the keyboard playing up, I felt confident I’d hit the wrong combination of keys, or one had stuck as I did it (Ctrl+I). I pressed the CorelDraw launch button, and it came back on.

Late afternoon.
I’m not sure if it is the sun or its reflection from over the thingamajig, the whaddocallit, erm the owsyerfather… Horizon!
I made another brew of Extra-strong Typhoo tea.
I thought about having a packet of the Bombay Potatoes for nosh tonight.
Changed my mind later.

18:00hrs: I just had an epiphany… I’m sitting here doing the blog, and the realisation that I am free… he’s gone has disappeared!
A lightness came over me. The fear of his return, of course, is present whenever he isn’t with me.
I’m now singing aloud. Currently on Cliff’s ‘The Young Ones’. I know all the words to that one. Now, Frankie Vaughan’s ‘Green Door’… Hello, hello, hello… Carefree time, I hope, stays with me.
Nat King Cole, ‘Unforgettable’…

Aha, Carer Ejaz called this time. Great to have him to call too. He sorted the medications that he’d brought with him into the drawer. Also, the early night doses and Peptac were given.

I was pleased with the shot I took from the kitchen window. Came out well this time, for a change. About time I made a decent job of taking a snap.
I got the rushed, simple meal cooking, and decided to take another shot, this time of a different direction but lower down. Another reasonable shot. This effort turned out okay. Then, as I served it up, I decided to try for a third in a row decent photo of the meal.
So much for going for a hat-trick. What a horrible outcome for all my efforts.
A little disappointing, putting it mildly. Tsk!
Get the pots washed then.

The last Carer call of the day was Dilan.

I must get back on this site and catch up with WP reader and comments. So, I did!

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Came late, but he was precious!
My only defence against Darius.
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Inchie Today: Thursday 1st January 2026

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Here are some things you might like to try…
A bungy jump, from a platform 1000 yards high,
You’ll feel excited, your adrenaline will fly,
Should things go wrong, perhaps you’ll die?
Fret not, cause for humankind, the end is nigh!
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Pretend to act unintentionally, conventionally,
When required, act hackneyed, platitudinously,
Cut back on moments of showing crudidity,
Why? If you live to old age, quintessentially,
Your life will turn into a genuine tragicomedy,
Dementia and insanity will not be obligatory,
You struggle to cope with worsening senility,
You’ll glean many an unexpected infirmity,
Those most rife, nasty, often unavoidably,
The ones that seem almost statutory…
That can affect you mentally and physically,
Water on the brain can be helped surgically.
On the NHS, this is not an emergency…
I was scanned, diagnosed, with no urgency…
I’ve been waiting a year now, involuntarily,
Bladder cancer was treated when I was seventy,
Arthritis, Catheter bag, deafness, duodenal ulcer,
Peripheral Neuopathy, Cramps, and Glaucoma,
Brittle bones, prostate cancer, lymphorrhea,
Early life’s things you may well remember,
Recalling today’s breakfast? That’s awkwarder,
Music from the ‘50s-’60s? So much easier
Gene Pitney’s Twenty-four Hours from Tulsa,
1950, the Ames Brothers, ‘Sentimental Me’
Frankie Vaughan, 1955, ‘Tweedle Dee’…
But anything new, I lose, inexpiably…
Memory Mangling Malcom, my incumbency,
You’ll forget when you made a mug of tea…
Get on the wrong bus, miss an appointment for neuropathy,
Leave taps running, doors open, regularly…
Yer catheter will leak, escaping pee,
Take tumbles almost weekly…
A fractured wrist, bad back, fractured knee?
Frustration will send you all hysterically,
Loneliness, well, hypothetically,
You get the odd nurse & Carer,
Disabled, you can’t get to the Doctor,
Who may put you on Apomorphia,
You forget you forgot to remember?
You build a mountain of memorabilia,
Your health is rarely avuncular… apraxia:
You’ll miss your rumpy-pumpy, so remember…
If you get a positive answer from someone tender,
Get in there, and make it an all-nighter!
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I’ve spent all day updating or recreating the lost Word files. Depression Darius paid a few cursory visits, and High-Mood Horis the odd call to put me in a couldn’t care less mode.

Having managed to stay awake last night to take some photos of the New Year fireworks. (Not too successfully). I remembered for the first time in 70 years, to say my ‘White Rabbits’ for good luck. I’ll try anything. I was shattered and slept for an unbroken six hours until the Carer arrived to wake me up. He was in fine fettle, I have to say.
After he’d departed, I got this morning’s fireword photos checked out and on file.
Gere they be. Varying results.
Not so many explosions this year, and what few that I could, against those I missed, indicate that my luck is not about to get any better. Haha!.
Kept missing the big ones. Humph!
Made a few artistic ones.
Not that I meant to.
Just caught one this time.
Not too bad.
Well…
Ayhup! Caught some!

Really got stuck into the Word files, recreating.
Lots of mistakes. Why change at my age?

Only stopped for Carer calls, emptying the catheter bag, when I stubbed my ingrowing toenail to curse a little. To make repeated mugs of tea and refill the water bottles. As of now, I still haven’t had a wash and shave… Partly because I left the hot tap running while cleaning a teacup. (Mug, but Grammarly’s AI kept changing it) I did take a few photos of the view. There was nothing else happening yet worthy of my Kodak Tim 2 recording. Slowest day for months. If I ever get off this computer and make a meal…
Stop moaning, Inchie!

Afternoon shot.
Half an hour later.
Half an hour later.
While prepping food.
To eat later.
Close up that caught the
streaky clouds in the dark.
Perhaps the best one?
The last one of this session.

Part of the prepped food for mixing nosh.
Instant potatoes today. With Leicester Cheese, no-butter butter and seasalt. Some of the chicken Polish Kielbasa (Sausages). If it hasn’t gone off yet, I’ll slice the tomato and add it later.

Now, I must get back on the blog to catch up.
Oh, earlier I sent out emails with the blog link… got an email back from Jenny🤎, saying the link didn’t take her there. I think I made this cock-up four times this week, not posting the blog. Thankfully, Jenny let me know each time, bless her.
This time, I will get back on the WP Reader, comments and email checking.
Back soon or in the morning if not.

Good Morning.
I got caught up on WP, if nothing else.
Cataract Katie was too bad to continue.
So caught up this Friday morning.
Not a lot to add… very little…

I spend a long time getting the meal sorted.
Mixing the potatoes with sea salt, Leicester Cheese, cheese granules, and no-butter butter was a long job. By the time I finished it, the spuds were cold!
I added a can of garden peas to it as an afterthought. Cut my finger opening the can. No fret, I’ve plenty of ointments and plasters in the drawer.

I got it on the tray and took several photographs of it, hoping to take a decent one. Huh!… this is the best one of the five taken with Kodka-Tim-2.
As you can see, it was a good snap, even for me.
In the morning, my lost photographical skills continued. But you’ll see the mess I made of them on the next blog. That is assuming that the Lord does not return, World War and the apocalypse don’t arrive, or I have another seizure and kick the bucket.

TTFN

Inchie Today: Wednesday 31 December 2025

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Cutting up potatoes, I found a wriggler…
A maggot, but used wriggler; it sounded funnier,
Just two cuts, to the same finger…
Using on each a waterproof plaster,
While the sauce got burnt to a cinder,
To give the potatoes a bit more flavour,
I added tandoori, lemon & coriander,
And the recommended garam masala,
Stood-up, how I didn’t fall’s a puzzler…
I went into a dissociative seizure,
Compared to the norm, this was longer,
Spuds were rock hard, my language vulgar,
Got potato waffles from the refrigerator,
I picked up long picker-upper, Peter,
To retrieve the spoon dropped earlier,
Knocking over a bottle of malted vinegar,
After mopping it up, the floor was cleaner,
Finally, I was ready to serve up dinner,
My waffles, burnt and withered,
Everything on the tray was assembled,
Carefully, into the front I hobbled…
My ingrowing toenail was stubbed!
Spilt food, carpet to be scrubbed,
Meal binned, pots washed…
So, my food plans were altered,
To bags of crisps, ready-salted…
Salt & vinegar, and barbequed,
New Year views to be photo’d,
Things didn’t go as anticipated!
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Afternoon Delight.

A little later…

Sunset, Gorgeous!
Zoomed in a bit…
And another…
Then right out.

The third attempt produced this
edible meal. At last! Hehe!

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TTFNski!

Sweet Dreams!

Inchy Today: Wednesday 2nd July 2025

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It’s amazing what you think of in the shower,
In a bath, or on the Porcelain Throne,
Cutting tomatoes three times, I’ve stabbed Starmer,
Once, sat on the WC naturally all on my own,
Doing a crossword, trying to find an answer,
Got a Dizzy, & I fell off, and broke my anklebone,
In the ambulance, I remembered Asda…
When they substituted cough drops with a dog bone,
That must have been about 1998 in November,
I’d have complained, but didn’t have the backbone,
The funny things I recollect and remember,
Last month, I burnt my dressing gown,
Fishing, I’d puff my pipe of Erinmore mixture,
That could be why I never won a match fixture,
And today, up to now, I have not suffered a seizure,
In 1980, I bought my Nokia 100 mobile phone,
Got a new one, too complicated, like a megillah…
So, I went back to Nokia,
When I clocked for the micropsia,
I went and bought another,
I can’t recall its nomenclature,
It might have been Motorola,
I was no necromancer…
But I was an obtruder,
Changing the SIM, I cut my finger,
It bled on the Nokia, no, the Motorola,
A whiff of smoke, I’d left it in the charger,
Yet again, I went back to the Nokia,
I still use it, though we’re both much older,
I can’t see it, and I’m much deafer,
I’m tired and hungry; I’ll have a cob with tomato!
I’m losing the plot again, but no problemo…
Tomorrow, I may muse over crocodiles in the Orinoco.

I am sick and tired of listening to myself moan as things continue to keep going wrong.
Now (Wednesday), I could face a farcical first-time calling Carer for the three-hour visit I pay for. This is supposedly for them to have time to do the laundry, check the banking figures, advise me on mail received, and occasionally have time to mop a floor or clean the oven for me. Carer Joe used to get all these jobs done for me, and I didn’t need to worry.
Carer Ejaz, who has substituted for Joe twice, when I became more confused answering his questions about where things were and what to do.
I assumed Ejaz would be replacing Joe. But, No! I got a telephone call this morning from ICC (the Carer company). They are sending someone I’ve never heard of. Mind you, the phone line had terrible reception. (I wish they’d use the landline.) Either Jackie or Johnny will be coming this afternoon. It’s possible that whoever it is has been there before, and I’ve forgotten the name, of course. However, they will not be aware of my needs, and some of them will even take control and do as they please, ignoring me as if I weren’t there. But how can I deal with the blog, the possibility of the Oligarch Meter installers working, and then Nurse Hristina 🤎 taking the blood samples? Possibly Matron Jackie calling, and or the Catheter Changing Community nurses and the Neurologist who failed to call yesterday might get through. All this, and I have to stay aware of what’s going on around me. What needs to be done hasn’t been done, or has been missed altogether. However, my EQ just gave me good-jibes about whoever comes to do the extended Wednesday visit, positive.

Let’s face it, I can lose track just talking with myself!
The slightest happening, such as a phone call, the doorbell ringing, or going to the toilet, is each alone sufficient for whatever I was doing, going to do, or needed to do to be instantly discarded from my previous diabetic dementia, but has now been changed. Having been recently reclassified as Pre-Morbid Cognitive Impairment.
So what chance will I stand if those who didn’t come yesterday might call today, along with a strange Carer (I think), who needs to learn from me (Hehehe!) all the needs of the extended Wednesday visit?
Even if none of them call (Although J called to return the hand washing today, bless her 🌺).

Just a few photos, I’ll add further details of the Carers’ visit later on… I hope it goes well, but it doesn’t bode well for the future if it does not!

No shave. Two visits to the Porcelain Throne, both needing a good clean-up after the evacuation was completed.

The pins and plates were in better shape today!
I received a phone call on the landline. Oh, more joy, it was from my DVT Nurse, Hristina.
To advise me that she would be calling to take blood for the Warfarin INR test in the morning, between 10:00 and 12:00 hours. Lovely!🤎

I went onto the balcony to take a shot of the view.
Took this one of the old dilapidated three-wheeled walker, and forgot to take the view shot. Tsk!

I created the daily Ode eventually.

Care Ejaz arrived.

Call from ICC Carers. A Jackie or Jody will be doing the extended visit today.

I started this actual blog. Made a brew.

The long-visit Carer arrived. Nice gal, her name was Josie. I took my Kaftan off, put it in the laundry bag, and Carer Josie took it down with the laundry for me. On her return to the flat, she got the kitchen floor mopped for me. Did a good job. Then she checked through the food for out-of-date products. And wiped the inside of the fridge after.
Cheese, lemon juice, jellies, food colouring, yoghourt and a few other food items were put in the rubbish.

Josie helped me search for another elderly person’s mobile phone, but we couldn’t find one that charges from an electrical outlet. Not from a computer.

Josie went down to collect the dried clothes, returned and hung them up for me.
Time for her to go, a lovely gal. I asked if she would be doing the Wednesday visits each week. A shame that she didn’t know or not. I hope so!

I chopped up an orange tiger-tomato and some red onion and added it to the stew to be cooked in the microwave later.
Put the dish back in the fridge.

Then back on doing this blog.

I tried another search for a suitable mobile phone and found one for the older models that had a direct link between the charger and the phone. I ordered one from Amazon. Due on Friday.

Late afternoon shot.

The fridge after Carer Josie had finished. Nice!

The meal of the day, Stew!

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Dasvidaniya!
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Inchy Today: Sat 28 June 2025: What a days end!

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Off to the wet room for a wash and an ablution,
The Porcelain Throne movement was liquidy…
I went to get my anti-diuretic medication,
Opening the drawer, it was a little sticky…
Which held medicines non-prescription,
Taking the box, I went a little dizzy,
Got myself in some confusion,
Trapped my hand, getting a contusion,
A scratch, a bruise, a tiny abrasion,
Carer Manpreet put on some cream,
And I began to think and dream…
Of the world’s upcoming desolation,
Will Hell or Heaven be awaiting…
Which will lambast us for self-annihilating?
Will we see Heaven or Hell’s disintegration?
117 billion people have lived on this Earth,
That’s a lot of dead souls. Which were worthy?
How did they get through the gates so pearly?
Adam & Eve, they must have arrived early?
Are their souls with mammoths & anacondas?
Will the Grim Reaper take souls from Pure Cremation?
Are the Reapers from the unknown Hell or Heaven?
Hell’s interviewers assess your suitability for entry?
Oligarchs, Hitler, Stalin, Putin, Trump, & Göring get there?
Along with Starmer & Blair, the backhander taking pair,
Oligarchs, they’ll take over Hell’s agenda,
But we who are currently breathing air…
Will never know if anyone is out there!
I know it was pointless being a Brexiteer,
But the end commeth, but no need to fear!
Although at first, things will seem a little queer…
No body, brain, cataracts, no mouth to drink beer,
No sight, hearing, or need for ablutional passing,
No murdering, wars, revolutions or farting,
Nothing to need fearing, authorising or appraising,
You may not even know, after passing…
No more eating, washing, or inequality,
Rent, electricity, or food prices are rising!
No appealling bodies, for wanting or screwing,
No hours lost constipating,
No corrupting, counterfeiting, courting, or coveting, Canyoneering, chauffeuring, or cheering,
Women, no childbearing, catering, or censoring,
No cleaning, coiffuring, nail polishing,
Or anyone to give a bollocking tongue-lashing!
Aristotle said we may still be dreaming.
I think life may have been spent part-time musing,
While waiting for the inevitable ending?
Still, this is not a sad message that I’m sending,
I’d love to know if this thought is trending,
Hopefully, peace will flow, even if we don’t know…
And nothing worth commemorating!
One final thing that I would like to mention…
Ask a friend, neighbour or relation…
To check you’re dead before your cremation!
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Not up to much today. Although having said that, as much as I struggled to get the Ode done, and it took me hours, I still managed to glean some pleasure out of it. I’ve got to cope without Carer Joe now. Well, I say that, he has got a call on Monday, sadly, it will be his last one. I’m scared and worried about how I’ll cope without him. He’s saved the day so many times for me, often several times a week!
My fear is getting at me. I can’t help it.

The nocturnal pouch is still attached and shows the red foot, not the white one. Hehe! At least the oedema swelling on top[ of both feet had died down a little while I’d got my feet up. I fell asleep early, but woke up and got up in a semi-confused state, suspecting I’d just had a seizure. Judging by my concentration and balance, they are all over the place.

Took this view from the kitchenette. I then
decided to sit down, as my balance was not good, and spent hours updating yesterday’s blog.

Carer Mampreet arrived. She administered the medications and applied some cream to the hand wound and the tops of the feet, which were filling up with liquid again. Then she Germolened the shaving scar on the back of my neck. Bless her!
Manpreet took this photo of a hand-wound for me. She used the barrier cream. The photo used in the Ode, the very poor, out-of-balance one, I took earlier. When Shaking Shaun was visiting me.

Back onto the computer and made a dubious start on this blog. Creating the graphics, despite CorelDRAW warning me that it would need to be updated to save any work to the new version. Somehow, I managed to get it to work. I cannot recall what I did, I just pray I can do it again in the morning session. A call from Carer Joe would have been invaluable!

I went to make a mug of tea, my first one of the day. And, I’d been up for nearly five hours already. I’ll pay for this later on, big time.

The Iceland stores order arrived. The driver kindly put them in a line, blocking the doorway, so I could move one at a time. I took some pictures of the food bits, but without the SD card in the camera. Humph! Obtaining the photo of the carriers is another aspect of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, which also includes hobgoblins, spectres, gnomes, phantoms, grotesque succubi, extraterrestrials, ectoplasm, and spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Depressing Duncan, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, concentration, and logicality were already well on the wane.

The tea had gone cold, so I hobbled to the kitchen to make another brew of Co-Op 99 tea. Taking the above snap of my feet & legs, I noticed that they were even more pronouncedly white on the left and red on the right. The oedema fluid had filled the top and bottom of the right foot, making walking more difficult again. Oh, and painful too!

Made a brew and back to the blogging.

Started making Templates for July.

I assume it was, anyway, that kept blurring my eyesight so much that I had to give up on blogging. These ‘Blur’ periods have been lasting for a few minutes at most, then the vision clears again. Not this time; I was still struggling when making the meal, after switching to reading glasses.

Making and prepping the meal was spoiled and harassed by the arrival of . I dropped the knife three times. Slicing the tomatoes resulted in a cut on a fingernail. Burnt my hand, right on the wound from trapping it in the drawer. Finally, I got it made up, photographed it, and settled down to eat it. Which was another farce. Showed up, and the tray plopped onto the floor, distributing various parts of the meal on the carpet! I discovered a partially eaten piece of sausage on the ottoman in the morning.
I salvaged some of it and still enjoyed it.

The cleaning up of the mess after dining was not appreciated at all. , , , ,
and were amongst the ailments that were displeased with all the bending down I had to do. Only the innards that had just had their hunger satisfied didn’t complain. I was in such agony in so many areas of my body.
As I climbed into the hospital bed, there were so many aches and twinges, then (Hah!), joined in the onslaught!
It took me hours to fall asleep. The primary reason is the pain, obviously. But these were exacerbated by and that I had to get out of bed so often. As I recall, to check that the taps were not left running? Had I locked the flat door? Then I realised that I’d forgot to ask the Carer to fit the nocturnal catheter bag. The fight to get out of bed and the bending down again to find and fit the night bag prompted her to increase the level and potency of her attacks. I had to get up about five times from the hospital bed. Each one was painful, especially under the feet, as I had to walk on the Oedema fluid-filled feet. I gave up, and got into the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, eyesore-horrendously grungy, disease-fermenting second-hand, beige-coloured, £300, second-hand charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, catheter tube yanking, recliner. Thankfully, I had taken a rest, but I was replaced with worrying about how I’m going to manage without Carer Joe.

Sleep turned into a fantasy. I sat there and stewed in my pathetic self-pity, until my leg fell off the chair my feet were resting on, to ease the Oedema problem. That extra bit of pain was enough for to come overhead, and sink into my psyche. So, virtually no sleep. 05:30hrs: Somehow, I forced myself up to start the day with a gloom that had never been with me before.
And the Whoopsies began again…

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I CAN DO WITHOUT DAYS LIKE THIS!
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Inchy’s Ode: Friday 30th May 2025

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I had a great idea, all be told,
To go into today’s Inchy Ode,
I was unshirted, & the brain unsorted,
To the Porcelain Throne, I ventured,
The motion was being prevented,
Constipation Conrad; I was tortured,
An hour later, the torpedo appeared…
To the blood & pain, I was not enured,
It painfully slowly came out, multicoloured,
I felt my innards being distorted…
The monster stuck, it was unimparted,
Surprisingly plopping, it was aerated!
Back to the Ode, but it had to be aborted,
I think my memory box had busted,
My mind & body, both beleaguered,
Back to the WC, I almost blubbered,
I got the second torpedo out painfully,
Then, a brainwave came to me…
I’d lost the Ode’s plot, alarmingly,
I’d tell you of the WC barbarity,
I had to make visits again, how many? Three!
I thought I might take up residency…
Arthur Itis’ knees, both rheumaticky,
Since the Covid jab, I’ve felt so sleepy,
But I’ve not lost it completely…
My brain is acting somewhat whimsically,
Another tumble, another Whoopsie!
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TTFN’ski

Inchy: Wed, Thur 30th May 2025 The end of an era

Now, CorelDraw will not let me save or import any graphics or photos at all! Even the ones I took in the afternoon!

Wednesday 28th
Horrible busy day. I took pictures in the morning and got graphics on.
Carer Joe arrived. And he set to sorting the junk room.
Wore me out.

I was peed off when I realised the CorelDraw problem.
I don’t understand it at all.

Thursday.
The nurse came to administer the COVID-19 injection.
I remember last year and the three days of sleeping that followed. It did again.

Friday.
CorelDraw has blanked out all the options on the screen. Can’t import, export, save, or copy anything…
I’ve really had enough.
Can’t see any help on the horizon.
But I’ll bother Carer Joe again when he calls next. And ask if his lads can help me sort out the problem.
With tax, CorelDraw cost me £449 plus this year, and I can’t use it!

I could, indeed have been crying. Sorry for myself.
I’d like to pull out of it all together.
The lads may help me in doing that, I hope.

When I get over this sleepiness and tiredness, whenever that may be, I’ll try to get the spirit to do a graphicless, or use an old one for a daily Ode on its own daily. But my spirits are so low.

I’ve never felt lower.
I also have a lot of comments to catch up on, as well as WP Reader. I’ll do them as soon as I can after posting this saddest of blogs.

Sorry about this.
Cheers.
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Inchy Today: Tuesday 27th May 2025

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MR PHOOEY
One of Sister Jane & hubby Pete’s cats.
My personal favourite. The lad had all sorts of problems. I believe he would have been around 13 years old in this photo, taken at their mansion.
The poor mite went deaf and almost blind a couple of years later. Then, he had kidney problems and many others, and he became fragile. Finding this photo made me think of Tim Price and Doug, WordPress cat owners who have gone through the anguish of losing their loves. Mr Phooey was an amazingly calm, & friendly cat. When one picked him up. I could hear and feel his purrs when I got a chance, and it was an honour to be able to gently fuss him, along with Jane, as in this photo above.
Thank heavens for memories!
Soft? Me? Yes, I loved him!
Bless Him!
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Be suspicious of those who bootlick,
Making sure it’s your boots is the trick,
Avoid Inchy’s odes; they’re logorrhoeic,
Men avoid women who are logorrhoeic,
And Starmer, the anthropophobic,
And known to be an anthropophagic,
He’s also deceptive, false, demagogic…
I find time for this sort of epodic,
Guillotines, designed to be ergonomic,
I think this Ode is funkadelic?
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You’ll probably guess better what happened than I can remember occurred.
Scribble only, and few photos. Recorded well for the first few hours, then the multiple seizures confounded me; I was in and out from then on.
04:50hrs: Stripped, grabbed the necessary items, and headed to the wet room to perform the ablutions and medicationalisations.
Soaked my feet and stood in a bowl with disinfectant while I cut my face… I mean, shaved. Hehe!
Getting my feet out of the bowl, I spilt some water, slipped on it and cracked my head against the sink. I seem to be mastering this little exercise more regularly these days. Tsk!

06:25hrs: I got on the computer. 07:15hrs: Carer Ejaz arrived. He issued the medications. Then, I added mesh netting to the catheter contraption and got the diabetic socks fitted on my now dangly legs and feet.

On the computer, I came across an old photo of Sister Jane, Mr Phooey, and me. (above) I am as soft as grease, I know. But I thought of all my WordPress heroes who have cats and gone through the anguish of losing them. I am the same with my Cyril and Lady, and of course, Jane’s Mr Phooey! 💛

The computer needed a reset in the hope that this would correct its habit of sticking mousse.
So, I got the Hoover out and did a bit of cleaning up. The emphasis is on ’A bit of cleaning up!’ Haha!

The food delivery from J Sainsbury’s arrived. I started to put away the foodstuff… I must have taken this photo.

A mega-seizure followed by a slowly dwindling series of mini-seizures.
How two Carer visits came and went with only glimpses of any memory of them amazes me.
Not as much as how I did work on CorelDraw during the long one. And what bit I did and no cock-ups in them… that I could find anyway. No taps were left on. No food doors were left open.
How? That’s what I’d like to know!
No signs of aches or new pains to indicate any tumbles being taken, either.
I meant to mention this to Carer Joe when he came, but I don’t think I did. I hope to remember to tell the Doctor when she calls on the Wednesday after next. There are so many little things, extra, different things I’d like to recall and relate to the Doctor. But they drift off into the ether. Carer Joe should be here when she comes, so I think it’s important to keep him updated. As he might jog my memory or tell the Doctor himself. Is it likely to be more reliable than I can be? It was so good of him to move things about on his busy schedule, to fit me in to be here when the Doctor arrives. Thank’s Joe!

Looking at this photo, I’d guess what I’d had for nosh tonight or whenever. Possibly a boiled potato cut into cubes? Orange, red and yellow tomatoes. Pickled water chestnuts. Pickled mushrooms. Beetroots, red onion, and Marmite cheese. Cheesy topped bread rolls. The dessert might be a jelly & custard pot? What is on top of the potatoes and what was in the bread rolls will have to remain one of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, & spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Depressing Duncan, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, and logicality were already on the wane.
How the heck can I not recall this meal? It looks delightful to me in this photo?
Ah, yes. As I’m still two days behind with the blogs, confusion is to be expected. Especially when I get distracted from my intended actions.
These are perfect examples of this; while draining the catheter pouch (three times in three days), I got distracted and either did not turn the valve off or only partly, in my rush to answer the phone, the intercom and the door chime. Resulting in more agitation when I realised that each time I’d got urine on my leg, socks and part filled the slipper. I ran out of slippers when I did it today! They are all in the wash with the pouch netting and socks. Then, a master risk! I had to get water from the kitchen sink into a bowl, disinfect it, and bring it to the main room to soak the feet. Having to dry them with paper towels using the picker-upperer. Bending down to get to the feet is a no-go. Just too painful on the knees and back and causes me to have dizziness. Which is best avoided. I think I’ve had two tumbles in two days caused by bending down. Hitting my forehead on the wet room sink each time, but I stayed upright at least; that is a blessing. Otherwise, the long crawl on all fours to get to the recliner to haul my body back up onto the feet is such a painful struggle. Arthur Itis, Little Inchie, the catheter tube pulling and causing bleeding… I’m moaning again, aren’t I? Shut up!

The short Mini Seizures took over.
Coming out of these, the confusion seemed well out of proportion. More than when I escaped the mammoth one?

I may have got things out of sync or repeated. Sorry.

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All The Bestest!
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Inchy: Medically-Miserablest-Monday 26th May 2025

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Shouldn’t you ask for permission?
Beg for guidance and facilitation,
Don’t do it if you are a drunken…
Or you are easily dumbstrucken,
Guillotine, hang or electrification?
If you have a choice, which option?
A final world war or a global eruption?
Covid, starve, or in an explosion?
Physical and mental erosion?.
No more floccinaucinihilipilification,
Write your last poem, or feuilleton?
Your PM is a dishonest futilitarian!
He causes fear, death & a fustilarian.
Starmer is like a modern Gwydion…
Ever-searching for freebies, a guerdon.
Not a practical joker, more a gluon,
He’s no guilt, disowns, refuses humiliation,
Undercover Tory? We need confirmation!
Investigation, examination, interrogation,
I’d love to see him commit self-jugulation!
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A few evil spells today.
But in the afternoon, Anne Gyna eased off. Mind you, she returned when I got into bed. Tsk!
Still, you can’t win them all!

For about 70% of the day. I kept praying he’d sod off, but, needless to say, it didn’t work. I can’t understand why, though. The situation overall was significantly better than it had been in the last few days. There was nothing to indicate why Duncan stayed with me for so long, and deeply too. Baffled!
Late on in the evening freed me for an hour or two. Enough for me to cheer a little before finding blessed sleep. As it was, the interruption occurred when Ann Gyna returned, the coughing started, or the neurotransmitters shook me with such violence. But each time, I soon drifted of into the world of sweet Morpheus again. In fact, despite the most jump-awakes ever in a night, I think I got 6 hours sleep in. I just wish it had been of a bit better quality. Again, you can’t win them all.
Notes were sparse. I think there were some seizures over the day. Another oddity is that some days, I put a tick on the notepad when I know I’ve had one. The next day, when it comes to counting them, I either can’t believe the ticks on the pad were so numerous, or I am amazed to see so many.

Another memory-testing blank-filled day. Luckily, I took a few photos; some prompted me, and some confused me. Not much contentwise. Although some flooded back to me.

Carer Ejaz was as surprised as I was at the colour of the nocturnal urine.

Rubbish bags are made ready to go.

Tidied up the vital for the bladder catheter stock of spring water.

I’m not sure, but I think this arrived today. I’d made a mess of naming the photo files, so you may have seen these before—or not.
Ah, Worcester-flavoured crisps!

Got on the computer.
My brain didn’t work at all.

Early meal.

Took a tumble while doing the ablutions.
I head-butted the sink again.
I’m getting good at this lately!

Carer Ejaz was surprised again.
Hahaha!
He took off the diabetic day socks.
And took these photos of me in 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.
Then, the state of the legs while he put some
Phorpain gel on the lesions and barrier cream.
Do my legs look mishappen to you? Not complaining, though. They were far less aglow tonight.

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Doctor’s Next Thursday TTFNski
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I hope I can remember where it is?