Inchcock, Nottingham’s Catnapping, Somnolence expert: Sunday 29th November 2020

30/11/2020 / Inchie / 6 Comments

I’m sending wishes through the ether, that this will happen! ♥

Sunday 29th November 2020

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01:30hrs: I stirred, and was amazed to find I had slept for over five uninterrupted hours – and this after the night before’s mammoth sleep-in? I seem to have changed suddenly from an insomniac to a narcoleptic? Why I ask? I’m still waiting for an answer. Hehehe!

The mind seemed to be more responsive as well, the thoughts seemed more apparent when I talked to myself. A degree of uncustomary determination lingered as well; The Sainsbury order is due early today, Josie’s meal needs preparing and delivering, and I recalled that I’d put the new tube of Germoloid in the wet room.

I was a smidge disappointed in myself when I saw the untaken evening pot of medications still on the Ottoman, though. I mused for a few seconds, on why I am suddenly missing so many night tablets so often? But got no reply from the brain, which decided that a mug of Glengettie tea was more important.

So, I removed my overly-stomached body from the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly, sickeningly beige-coloured, dirty, unstable, broken-down, uncomfortable, rusty, rickety, rachitic, recliner, and up onto the feet to catch my balance. And this, usually a struggle at times, even causing Accifauxpas, was done with fantastic ease! Grabbed Metal-Micky, and was so glad I did, cause, en route to the kitchen, I had a bit of a wobbly, had I not got the stick, I could easily have gone over. I put the kettle on.

Musing over what a mixed start to the day it’d been so far, and I’d only been up for a few minutes? It was foggy outside, and it looked so cold with it, I decided against taking any open window photographs. Made the brew, and back to the ottoman get the Health Checks done, all in auto-mode.

The sphygmomanometer needed a couple of tries to get it to work. The first effort indicated I’d snuffed it. Hahaha! But at least try two showed the SYS was down a tad, to 160. The thermometer showed a lower temperature too, at 36.1°c.

My aboulomania flourished, as I thought about what to do about the missed medications. I took the evening ones as I did yesterday, and must remember to take the morning ones later on.

Then, as I turned, I hit my head on the corner of the door. Not badly, I’ve had many worse ones, but it seemed to spark a change in my everyday routine?

Instead of getting on with the computerisationing as I always do after the balance, and health checks and medication taking: Amazingly, I got the dark blue zip-up jerkin hand-washed? All done, wrung and hung on the coathanger to dry, but why?

Got the computer on, and instead of cracking on with the IT diary updating, I went on Facebook updating?

Finally, I went onto the updating of the Diary. A long job, but as Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) and Saccades-Sandra were all in a good mood with me, I got it completed reasonably quickly. (This was worrying – something going right!)

Made a brew of Thompsons Punjana, and the summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived, off to the wet room. The daily battle between Trotsky Terence and Constipation Konrad was a massive defeat for Konrad, 4-0. Talk about yucky, a monstrous, messy, mass, manoeuvred into the bowl. A lot of effort needed to clean things furniture-wise and bodily followed—a good wash around, and back to the Computer.

Posted the diary off to WordPress. Emailed the link, and Pinterested a few snaps from the post. Then made a start on this template.

Around 06:00hrs, I heard a shuddering clunk, it sounded like it was from close-by. I had a poddle around in my bestest Sherlock Holmesian style, but could not find what it was that caused it? I hope no one has had a fall above me.

I started this writing for a while but had to stop. The ablutions needed doing, so I would be all prepared in time, in the case of the Sainsbury order arriving on the button at eight o’clock.

Back in a bit… I hope!

I’m back! I got sidetracked again going to get the ablutions done. I went hand-washing mad again. (No, I don’t know why either, it must be the bang on the head? Hehehe!)

I have to say, although it was a stand-up wash and shave, it went tremendously well. No teeth problems, only one cut shaving, only two items knocked off of the cabinet and no more than ten dropsies in total. More good fortune! (Even more worrying, especially with the Sainsbury order coming, overcharging and bad subs will almost certainly come with the food? – My EQ has just warned me!)

As I was getting staggering around getting dressed, and putting on a slipper, a sharp pain was felt underfoot! The sort you get when you stand on something sharp, or a shard of glass. It was hard-work, painful, plaguy and galling, taking a photo of the wound. The Robert Morley like stomach tended to get in the way, Haha! I think it was a new papule coming up. Gawd it didn’t half sting when I put the foot down.

Sorry about the photo coming out in mono. Yet another mysterious wonder of Woodthorpe Court: The Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, Hallucinations. Materialisations, Poltergeist, Lemures, Spectres, Spirits, Spooks, Eidolons, Wairuas, Kehuas, Manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their Satanic mission, to hinder, scare, blight, embarrass, manacle, and throw a spanner in Inchcocks works, plans, hopes, and confidence! Which they succeeded in, but they usually do!

I took some photographs from the unliked kitchenette window. The fog (when writing this six hours or so later) only got thicker as the day went on. Oh, dear!

Then I got the hand-washing finished off, the green quilt I’d left to soak in the sink bowl. I rang it out as best I could, and got it on the stand-up clothes airer in the hallway, being careful not to hang over the electricals at the bottom. Not everyone can say that, Hehehe!

Back into the Steptoe & Son-like front room, and got the computer back on.

Incidentally, the wee-wees were few and far between today. I just thought I’d mention it like.

Moments later, the intercom rang out and lit up. T’was the Sainsbury order arriving. The driver’s first words were; “Sainsbury order, are you coming down to pick the stuff up?” I gave an “Oh… well, I’ll have to, I suppose!” I farted about getting a mask on, and the intercom went again. The driver asked if we had a lift. I said yes, and he said he’d bring the stuff up then. Thank heavens for that!

He arrived, just as I had a dizzy at the front door, he showed concern and unloaded the good into the box and two bags (As orders go, this was a biggun!) Then he carried them through to the kitchen for me. I thanked him, then got the paperwork out, to see what was what, substitution wise.

Well, there were a few concerns. The PP’s (Protection-Pants), had been substituted with smaller-size ones!

Plus, they were different from each other? I’d ordered two large size packets, but these were both medium-sized ones.

Now, I know that Sainsbury’s say you can return any substituted items not suitable. But would they appreciate my asking the driver to wait, while I go in the wet room, to try on a pair of pants – find they are too small, then put them back in the pack, sellotape it up, and hand them back to the driver for returning? I think not!

Then there was the lamentable, regrettable, disappointing, ill-advised, and stupid replacement for the delicious Potato cakes, Pikelets! Humph!

JS Pikelets, the only similarity being that they both have six items in the packet! I’d have thought the clue, ‘Potato’ might have prevented such an idiotic, inane, imbecilic, exasperating substitution, but no! (I think J Sainsbury and Morrisons are competing to get the annual, SSOTY (Stupidest-Substitution-of-the Year award). From my experience, it is a draw at the moment. They could have subbed with Irish Potato Farls, surely?

Thank heavens I ticked the ‘No Substitution’ option for the toothpaste, else I may have had a jar of pickled walnuts delivered, as well!

The Milk Roll loaf had one days life on it! Oh, and plain digestive biscuits came covered in chocolate. But I’m not complaining about that, there is a chance or even likelihood, that I ordered the wrong one, so fair do’s on that score.

Not that these idiotish, inane, illogical, crass, unreasoned, banal, piss-taking substitutions bother me too much, of course! Knackwrangles!

I set about sorting the food etc. and trying to find some room, I’d rather overdone it again. Not on the fresh stuff, mind. I’ve been caught out with short dates and bonkers substitutes that often this year, from JS and Morrisons.

The only thing that pleased me was that they had sent the cheapo (60p) Chilli-Con-Carne, (Morrisons had substituted their (59p) one, with £2.58 substitutes!)

So, now I have a good stock of CCC in the kitchen, not the cupboard, that is already full. Hehehe!

Also, the can of Fray Bento’s meatballs in Chilli sauce, that can now be added to a tin that Hubbard’s (Sainsbury own label) Chilli Con Carne, making an easy peasy meal one day soon?

I’ll not starve for a bit, anyway. I may have a heart attack or another stroke, but still, it’s summat to look forward to – the Chilli, not the snuffing it! Glad I cleared that up!

I got the waste bags sorted onto the box on the trolley to go to the waste chute.

Then sorted the unwanted good from J Sainsbury’s crap substitutes and my possible (I think it was!) error on the chocolate biscuits I shouldn’t eat. Ahem! To take them down to Jenny’s, with some treats for Nora and Frank of the alcoholic variety. Hehe!

Of I poddled down in the lift to deliver the unwanted crap substitutes from J Sainsbury’s to Jenny’s. Who can use them as part of her charity, or whatever? They always get used to help others, with Jenny in control. Bless her!

I made a call before leaving, to Jen, to moan, lament, and bicker about the substitutions again. Hehe! And let her know I was on my way. Down and delivered them, back up and put the stuff in the waste chute on my floor.

I had a look on the Wilko site, as Jenny suggested to see if they had any PPs on sale. It was a £50 limit to get free delivery, or a minimum £10 charge. They only had a couple of men’s pants, and they were not cheap.

So I went on Amazon for a look-see what they had. I found these Tena ones, at £1 a disposable pair. I ordered some on Special Price, it said they were a new make. I just hope I’ve not ordered the wrong things again. They are at least a large size.

I then tended to prepare Josie’s meal sorted out. It was hard work doing it up today, not sure why. The cheesy potatoes were a little loose, I’d but in too much butter. But I think she likes them like that.

I delivered the meal eight minutes earlier than usual to Josie’s door, and there was no answer. Just as well, cause I’d forgot to take a photo of her Sunday feast. I nipped back in and took this shot and returned to her door and rang the bells again. I was greeted with; “You are early!” Hehehe! She laughed and inspected the fodder. It seemed to pass muster, she said she liked the fish Surami sticks, and the can of Rum and whatever went down well.

Please, I came back to the flat, did the washing up from the first nosh, and started updating the blog. Gawd this took me hours and hours! Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters had kicked off, creating error after mistake after cock-up! It was a frustrating time, and in the end, I had to give up.

I got my nosh going. I’m sure I’d ordered some battered fish on Iceland’s order, so to make room for them in the freezer, I had some, with the potato letters and peas.

I was suddenly all in again. No concentration left, and the right side of me was jumping and jerking, shoulder (SSS), and leg, which was threatening to do a Neuropathy Pete involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance. But it didn’t, just stayed with its mini-palpitations throbbing away to its heart’s content.

I’ll have to finish this in the morning.

Good morning!

I got the nosh prepared, not sure how I didn’t fall asleep doing it, though. I was wearied, worn-out and worryingly hebetudinous. But, hunger helped me continue. The meal was worth 6.5/10, no doubt a reduced rating, due to my being so done-in.

I tucked in, then fell asleep after eating the meal. Woke a few minutes later thinking it was time to get up, I edged my Billy Bunter body and saw the pot of yoghurt laying unbroken, where it had rolled to, on the carpet. A dilemma now; Do I struggle to get up and retrieve the lemon curd yoghourt? Is it worth the monumental effort? Am I that keen on eating it? Yes, I was… wasn’t I?

It didn’t matter, cause I fell asleep again!

When I stirred once more, minutes later, I must have been dreaming about this quandary over the tub of dessert, because I found myself reaching for the yoghourt ith the long picker-upperer, and throwing it in the waste bin. How I managed this physically was something of a miracle. Did I actually do it, or imagined doing it? Will I wake up in the morning and tread on it? On and on the Thought-Storms raged!

Looking back, I wasn’t even sure that I wasn’t dreaming all of this?

I nodded off again, waking up again, wanting a wee-wee. As I had got up and was catching my balance, the agony from the mystery growth under the foot, made me jump a bit, no a lot! Got the wee-wee taken, staggered untidily to wash my hands, back to the c1968 recliner, got down painfully on the ringed cushion, (I’d missed the centre and started Harold’s Haemorrhoids stinging). I added recent events to the notepad. (Not that I could read the scrawl easily in the morning)

Oh, dearie me, I’d left the light on! Crying was an option, but self-loathing was stronger, and I silently cursed myself, got up to turn off the light, and suffered when the new papule, or whatever it is under the foot gave me more discomfort.

I think I had another discussion with the boss, Mr G. Mostly inquiring as to why he bothered to let me be born, maltreated me. Gave me so many defeats in life. And was now giving me agony, frustrations and confidence-destroying failures? I got no answers!

Failing to get back to sleep, I realised as I lay there discussing things with the Thought-Storm, I probably deserve the luck I’m getting, fir things I have done in early life. I tried to recontact Mr G and apologised for bothering him.

Guilt? Yes!

Inchcock Today – Monday 23rd November 2020: Ailments BPB and AG in attendance. Humph!

24/11/2020 / Inchie / 6 Comments

TFZer Movie-Maker and Stars?

But only mine – the failing neurotransmitters to blame! Haha!

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Monday 23rd November 2020

Croatian: Ponedjeljak, 23 Studenog 2020

23:15hrs: I woke in a desperate need of the Porcelain Throne. (Nothing unusual in that, although the early hour was a bind!) I was weary through lack of sleep, with drooping eyelids, and struggling to engage my thoughts. Hello, I’m sneezing away now!

Not that the lack of sleep bothers someone like me. A heroical, strong, young, fit, healthy, virile, confident, handsome, stouthearted, very-much loved and admired, intrepidly courageous, health enthusiast, fitness fanatic, well-educated, keen outdoor adventuring enthusiast… Well, I may have just over-hyperbolised things there, a smidge)

As the grey-cells regained a weak form of logicality; I dragged my bouncy-bellied body from the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, tatterdemalion, heavy yet tottery, rickety recliner. And I rose up on my painful overgrown toenailed feet. I caught my balance, as per the After-Stroke Teams instructions. But had to skip the last bit, as the need for the Throne was growing more urgent by the second.

This session gave me a pleasant surprise! I got down on the plastic lid, and straight away the evacuation flowed. It was a long one, but that didn’t matter – It was totally pain-free! No bleeding either! Messy, though, very! Then having to clean me and the WC furniture, which took me ages, took the edge off of the, well, almost pleasure of super-easy pooing! Not that I was excited, for every Throne visit lately is totally different, which the Gastrointestinal Doctor Gupta had told me may happen for a few months. I just hadn’t expected the differentiations to be so acute on each visit. After the passing, BPB was soon starting to ache much worse?

I sorted out the Health Checks. Heck of a shock when the sphygmomanometer gave out the SYS reading of 171. Blimusigational! Yesterdays was only 148? I wonder why this happened? Ah, well, must press on, so I got the new thermometer out.

A reasonable reading of 68.8°c. Well, at least that was fair enough.

I went to get the medications out – and shame and disgust at myself again! I’d not taken last nights doses, yet again!

So, I took them then. Now I must remember to take the morning ones in a few hours.

It’s all very most confusing life is, when you’re nearing the end of it, and the old previously so reliable memory becomes unpredictable and a hit-and-miss affair. Hogglebogwash!

I went to make a brew of Glengettie tea, and I got side-tracked. (Hard to believe, me getting divagated, but, there you are... Hehe!) I took off the grey zip-up jumper I had on and set to washing it. Why I did this is still unknown to me, it was at the time I did it!

When the handwashing was finally, done- wrung and hung above the sink, to drip away drying, I had to clean up the mess I’d made doing the hand laundering. The floor had to be dried of sudsy water, the dropped and knocked-over items retrieved from where they had landed, and or rolled to, and the sink and counters washed.

I got back to making a brew of tea again, got the kettle reboiling, and noticed the small but beautiful quarter-moon was out in the now morning sky. I got the Nikon camera and took this photograph in Night Landscape mode.

Got the computer booted up, and uploaded this morning’s pictures. (Still doing some sneezing here). Then started to update the Sunday diary.

But this did not last for long. BPB started to get crescively more painful. So I hobbled to the wet room, and applied as best I might, a dollop of Phorpain gel to the affected areas, and rubbed it in as well as I could. It made no difference, though. Klunglefrazzles!

I’m sorry I bothered now, cause coming out of the wet-room, I hit my right shoulder on the edge of the doorframe, and now SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) has joined DD and BPB harassing me! Criggleblogglesworthisms! How much more of this can one man take!

Of course, I’m not really bothered, whatsoever.

I got the blog updating finished. Posted it off. Pinterested a few snaps. Went on Facebooking, then sent the link off via Email. I went on CorelDraw again, to try and get some page top graphics done for the TFZer pictures.

After about two or three days, I’d got two graphics done… Well, it felt that long to me! Nicodemus has joined at ailment army now. However, a Silver-Lining search result: Duodenmal Donald departed the battlefield, for some R & R? Hahaha! The main offender now is Anne Gyna.

Then, I had to visit the Porcelain Throne for the second time. Messy in the extreme, a tad more painful, but over so quickly, and no bleeding. Far less volume this time I thought, not that I weighed it or anything. Cackle! Titter! Hehe! Cleared the evacuated product with one flush, as well! Yeehaa!

I decided to see what slots J Sainsbury had available. I wasn’t too keen on using them after the last cock-up with substitutes and damaged goods, but I dare not use Morrisons to get my Chilli-Con-Carne, after they substituted 2 cans of their cheap (69p) CCC, with their best ones, at £2.58! And the utterly crap MCains peppered chips as a substitute for the Morrisons Sweet Potato battered fritters. Apart from there were no sweet potatoes or batter, the sub was okay. Swine!

Swine again now! So, I made up an order with Sainsbury’s, for Sunday 29th November, twixt 0800>09:00hrs. I made a point of working out how to opt for ‘no substitutes’, but I got it wrong, and could not reaccess the list! As it happened, I’d missed off the BBQ super-noodles from the order, so I went in to edit it again, add the pots to it. And got the no substitutions and added the CCC, and bread to that list.

I also found that I have a refund coupon, well, two of them, so clicked on the activate buttons. Then found an option that if I spent £60, I could get £9 off of the order? So I clicked that, but I had to, unfortunately having to increase the ordered items to reach the total. As I updated, I got a long-winded message telling that because I had chosen so many items with the No-Substitute on them, if the total is not reached, I’d forfeit the £9 off-offer. See their substitution rulings! Cobblers!

I knew that Hristina was calling later today, so got the ablutions sorted out next.

And what a feast of flipping, fiascos, faux pas, foul-ups, fluffs, follies, fatuous-farcicalisations this session was!

I got in the wet-room and moving the shower chair, I let it slip from my grasp. Or rather Nicodemus did. (You can see the bruise in the photos later!
The gums bled when I was doing the teeth!
A few nicks when shaving (5).
A stubbed toe when moving the sock glide out of the way to prepare the shower.
I bent down to pick up the dropped shower gel bottle and hit my head on the grab bar!
This started BPB off again!
As I was drying off, I put on the new glasses, and the lens fell out of the frame! Grrr!
Moving the chair back under the shower, I gave myself another toe-stubbing (At least this one was not too bad).
The medicationing started poor little Inchies fungal lesion bleeding!
Finally, on leaving the room, I was intent on not hitting the door frame again this time, and I didn’t. But as I turned to collect the forgotten to take with me wristlet alarm, I knocked most of the stuff off of floor cabinet when I had a balance loss moment!

Not one of my bestest ablution sessions! I was so irate with myself.

With all the clearing up, extra medicalisationing, I think that this session took me about an hour and a half! I don’t think I’m one of the luckiest tenant’s in here, am I?

But then again, I already knew that.

At least apart from the bruised foot, bloodied lesion, shaving cuts, bashed head, stubbed toes, and Back-Pain-Benda back to her painful best, I feel I have nothing to complain about really. Much!

At least I had a visit for Hristina, my precious Vampire Nurse to come. (An inner smile glowed!)

After I’d calmed down, and was sorting out some waste bags, the front door chimes chimed out. It was Josie returning the dinner things. She mentioned how she’s enjoyed it so much. Which was good, and semi-cheered me up a soupçon.

I got back on the computer, and fear that I’d left something undone, not done, in the wet-room, forced me to get back there and have a check, that all was okay. I’d left the clothes I’d used in the ablutions and medical tendings, and washed on the support bracket.

The intercom flashed. It was Hristina, my beloved Vampire phlebotomy nurse who’d arrived. She rang the intercom at 11:45hrs.

By EQ recognised that she looked full of angst and tensed up, bless her. And no wonder, as she said while whipping out my blood: Only one lift working in the block, hard to find a parking space, extra clients added to her list, stressed the Angel.

Although she gave no obvious signs and tried to speak in her usual comforting way, the speed of her words revealed the pressure she was under. I don’t think she was with me for more than five minutes. Beautiful, enjoyable minutes, though. ♥

After she had gone, and I lowered my sprits and sulked a little, and did some updating on this diary.

I turned of the computer, feeling a tad down and weary now. I got the waste bags, a lot of them had built up. This is because we have to use tiny bags now since the upgrade, so as not to block the chute, as has often been the case in the past, and cost a fortune to sort out.

I got them on the box and not the three-wheeled walker, and with some difficulty, got the trolley out through the door. (For the first time in a few days, I twisted my back getting the guide over the raised doorstop, and BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) gave me an electric-like shock, and hurt on of a level 7/10 pain-wise, and has stayed with me all night and into the morning!)

Struggling even more to open the door to the lift lobby (BPB), as I got halfway through the door, there were working signs and equipment all over the place, and at the end of the lobby, three workers, who turned to look at me – offered me a look of contempt, a sneer, and a scowl. No way though – I’m sure I hadn’t been informed of these workings? But who knows, with my memory!

So, I was going nowhere. I made my way with difficulty back into the flat’s lobby and returned to flat. Storing the trolley back in its corner in the hallway, obviously with the full of waste bags box still on top of it. And BPB really giving me some stick now!

I took the evening medications, with an extra Codeine 60g, and as best I could, offered Back-Pain-Brenda some PHorgpain Gel where I could reach to. Hoping, foolishly perhaps, that it might calm her down a bit. I was now in a right picklement, BPB and Anne Gyna bother having sadistic fun with me. Argh!

I got the meal prepped. A different type tonight, the Beef Curry, had a ring-pull opener on it, so I tried it. Got some potato letters in the oven cooking. Then considered the seasoning, that might be required for the curry. First I got it in the saucepan and tried a spoonful as it slowly heated up. I could not detect any curry. I decided on some balsamic vinegar and made-up some gravy with vegetable stock and added it to the mix. Put some Soy sauce into the mix. Fingers crossed. Not that I was too bothered, with BPB and AG for both still nagging away at me.

Nosh was served up, and I wanted to show how I felt and decided I’d put my views in potato-letters on top of the fodder. Just my luck, all those letters I cooked, and no letter T! Hahaha! Not to be beaten, I nibbled an H and used that to give my message to the world via the internet and this photo. Daft, I know, but I was in so much pain and fed-up with it.

I got the saucepan and tray washed, and took the meal though to the recliner, and eventually got my poor old back settled in a position that was not too uncomfortable. Of course, by then the food was not very hot! Globdanglesods!

I wasn’t going to go through the agony of getting up to reheat it, so I tucked into the bowl of beef curry. Notwithstanding, nevertheless, and however, the taste was not too bad at all. Had the meal been warmer, it may have got a better Flavour Rating than the 6.5/10 I gave it. The other can of beef curry in the cupboard will be used later, and not rust away or be given away.

It took a long time eating though. The moment I moved to get up and do the washing of the plate bowl and cutlery, BPB started again. Oy, Oy, Oy! Did I feel it, too!

Eventually, I got washed, stripped down, and back in the c1968 recliner again. Gawd know how long it took me to find a position that BPB would tolerate a little better – I expected the worst… needing a wee-wee, sneezing, or wanting the Porcelain Throne and having to move again. But nae bother!

Not that man like me was concerned over a little pain and agony, of course. Ahem! The prayer and confession I offered up, brought no reply or relief.

Surprisingly, I nodded off quickly. Waking up just before midnight, still in pain. I removed the remote control, empty packet of Frazzles, and crumbs from my folds in my belly fat…

Inchcocksi – Sunday 22nd November 2020: Ailments in a bad mood, and I did a lot of wittering

23/11/2020 / Inchie / 6 Comments

TFZers, but where are they?

Sunday 22nd November 2020

Greek: Κυριακή 22 Νοεμβρίου 2020

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Last night, try as I did, and I did, but I couldn’t get to sleep. So I got up, finished and posted off the blog. Nodded-off again! Yee-Haa!

02:45hrs: I woke (three-often-interrupted-for-wee-wees hours) in need of a wee-wee, but not urgently. I sensed and felt around the ailments, wriggled a bit and tested the legs, arms, wrists, ankles and torso, to try and self-diagnose, the little blighter’s veracity this morning.

I soon discovered that DD (Duodenal Donald) and SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley), (later on joined by Anne Gyna – badly), yesterdays agonies that were given to me, were both top-of-the-heap again, pain-wise.

But the search for a silver-lining revealed that Arthur Itis, Reflux Roger, Cartilidge Cathy, Shaking Shaun and Saccades-Sandra and others, were seemingly in am empathetic mood with me! Bless ’em! So, as I tackled the mountainous task of heaving my crassulent, flabby, boing-boinging-stomached body from the clutches of the c1968 recliner, I adopted a kind-off; Hey-Ho!, attitude?

Having gone through the After-Stroke teams recommended balance-catching routine, the hobble to the wet room, was a struggle, but not for the usual reasons. No straight loss of balance, no Dizzy Dennis, nor Arthur Itis problems! Just a difficulty with the misjudging of distances to my right-side. Had there been a CCTV in the flat, it would have reminded any viewer of Freddie Frinton and the Ministry of Funny walks! Hehehe! But, there was no going into anything or tumbles on the way to the wet room, and the need of the Porcelain Throne arose en route.

How can things with the innards change so often? I’d been sat down for a few seconds, and without any warning, the evacuation began. Ooh, argh! And all done! No mess, no bleeding at all! How so much came out in such a little time amazed me! A bit of discomfort, but no pain as such, either! A 1-1 draw, between Constipation Konrad and Diarorrea Duncan. And, one flush cleared the elephantine mass away, too!

Anne Gyna was now taking over as Primo-Pain-Profferer, as I got in the kitchenette to make a brew. Got the kettle on and took this half-decent, semi-zoomed photograph, of the morning view, from the hard to get at to clean, light and view-blocking window.

Maed a mug of Glengettie tea, and into the main room to do the Health Checks and take the medications.

Anne Gyna was continuing to give me grief! I must ask the Doctor about this on Monday, or ring 111, but they only tell you to see your Doctor, which is not going to be easy.

Got the sphygmomanometerisationing was done. The SYS was well down on yesterdays reading, at only 142! The pulse up a tad at 90, but I don’t think that’s a problem… I’ll ask Dr Google. Yep, okay! ‘Between 60 and 100 beats per minute (bpm)’

During the time since the Porcelain Throne visit, I’ve wee-wee’d eight times? Ah, well! I took the medications, with an extra Dioctyl® capsule, and Codeine 600g, but it isn’t helping ease Anne Gyna in the slightest, fed-up with this. But I reckon it did ease BPB later.

I made a start on this blog, in between several more SWSI (Sprinkly-Weak-Short-Itchy) wees.

Then went on CorelDraw, to do a few graphics for the diary-top.

Getting artwork from the web to amend, I found the latest Coronavirus figures for Nottinghamshire.

Blimey, Anne Gyna is giving me some high-quality hurtful stabbings! I had a wee-wee, and ent to make another brew, Thompsons Punjana this time. I made up some small waste bags while the kettle boiled, and put them in the box, and onto the three-wheeled walker, ready to go down with some others later on.

Back to CorelDrawing. I ended up sorting some files out that I’d got mixed up, but still haven’t got any graphics done – Humph!

The feet were humming a little, so I took a look at them. They were fluid-retentioning again, I think, and the nails getting longer than ever!

I got the ablutionalisationing done. Not too much bother, not the showering caused owt worth mentioning. Multi-dropsies and a crack on the back of the head, when I was getting back up after retrieving the shoer-gel bottle for the umpteenth time.

The dressing was a struggle, and the medicationalisationing went well enough.

Then I got the small waste bags added to and stacked them in the box on the trolley-walker guide.

As I was doing this, the landline flashed and rang. It was Brother in law, Pete. We had a good chinwag. I was updated, on how Pete’s radiation treatments for his cancer had gone.

Next week he goes back for a cat-scan again, to have a look at how things are reacting the treatment he’s had. Fingers crossed! I told him Tim and Billumski on WordPress sent there best wishes.

Cheered him up a bit, I think!

Back to the rubbish sorting. Out and along by the lift lobby to the waste room chute.

Bit of a farce getting into the room. A bigger struggle to get the bags into the tiny opening. Trapped the finger (the same one as yesterday) in the heavy metal lid.
A further kerfuffle getting the trolley out of the chute-room, trapped my ankle against the door and wheels of the guide. Well, it stops me getting bored, dunnit! Hahaha!

I took this photograph from the window near the waste-room door. Some Crows were flying about, but by the time I’d got the camera out they were long gone.

I even managed another moment to have a hullabaloo going back to the flat. A cracking well aimed for maximum pain, toe-stubbing, against the trolley!

I think I said ‘Well, fancy that!’ at the time.

I returned back to the flat and got on with doing Josie’s nosh.

I felt a little unexpectedly irritable with myself while doing the food prepping, but buggered if I know why? Got the meal delivered dead-on time again, midday! This is not the real meal delivered today, I forgot to p[picture it, and used an old one – Cheat!

Things went pear-shaped then! I had to go for another Porcelain Throne visit. So much blood came out, everything else of the visit was unimportant and forgettable. So I forgot it! I spent a good while cleaning up and medication, during which I found that both Little Inchies Fungal Lesion and Harold’s Haemorrhoids were bleeding! This actually eased the mind, at least I know why all that flood of blood escaped. Not feeling so good, now.

It made the PPs look pretty in red and white, though. Hahaha!

All calmed down now, I had a very late brekkers of the left-over cheesy potatoes with chives, sea salt, Leicester cheese and butter, from Josie’s nosh. Jolly good they tasted too!

BPB and DD were both still in attendance, and I was trying to do some graphicalisationing, but it was a hard slog with the concentration all shot.

And early head down was demanded. So I got on with making the main meal.

I added some tomatoes and peas to the Chilli-Con-Carne in the saucepan and made sure I checked it every few minutes, in between doing a Thoughts graphic for later use.

Put some part-baked rolls into the oven, and turned off Computer Katie.

Made up the evening pots of medications and put it on the ottoman, to take while eating. (Unfortunately, I failed to do so, but corrected this later when I woke up).

As you can see, I didn’t manage to eat all of the Chilli-Con-Carne meal, all as part of my self, and Doctor-imposed new diet. (Ahem!)

As I got down to watch something on TV, erm… whatever it was, Anne Gyna suddenly stopped her day-long marathon of giving me grief, it was like an Angel turning off a tap! Although Duodenal Donald and Back-Pain-Brenda were continuing with their assault, the relief at Anne Gyna retreating from the battle was almost frabjous, and appreciated!

Ah, yes, gorrit! It was an episode of Hell’s Kitchen that I wanted to watch, with Gordon… Hang on, that’s wrong… Erm, ah, Kitchen Nightmare. The brain’s going on one of its ‘Work-to-Rule’ episodes, again.

I watched the first part, and when the adverts came on, I thought I’ll nip through and get the pots in the sink to soak, which I did. It took me that long to get up, simply put the cutlery, dish and tray in the sink, and get back, and the next part of the programme had started. And we all know how long the Freeview commercial breaks can last! Hehehe!

At the second commercial break, I remember seeing the evening medications still in the plastic pot on the ottoman – and vaguely thinking, I’ll take them now… and I fell asleep!

I woke at 23:00hrs. Hey-Ho!

Inchcock Today – Friday 20th November 2020: I think I’ve caught euphobia?

20/11/2020 / Inchie / 2 Comments

Yee-Haa!

Friday 20th November 2020

Welsh! Dydd Gwener 20fed Tachwedd 2020

23:30hrs: BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) was with me from the instant I stirred from my slumber. She was in a fiery-mood before I attempted to move, and got more severe when I tried to free my grossly overweighted, mega-flobby-stomached body onto my feet.

As the need for the Porcelain Throne became obvious, I dare not rush, because the balance was taking its time in settling things this morning. I had to take the risk of delaying things until I was steady on pins, and was semi-symphonious in mind and body, to ensure I’d get to the wet-room without and tumbles or Accifauxpas. The risk of some escapages was high. I arrived in the room, in what seemed a long, long time, and I was in time too, to evade any plop-outs! No leaks en route! Phew!

I whipped down the jammy-bottoms and PPs, had barely settled on the plastic seat, and the motion started of its own accord. It was more painful than yesterdays efforts, but Troksy Terence beat Constipation Konrad, 3-1! A much easier evacuation, quicker, and only a smidgeon of bleeding from Harold’s Haemorrhoids! Not as messy either. Smug-Mode-Adopted!

I cleaned up and went to get the medicationalisationing done. Felt a twit again, when I found last nights tablets in the pot, untaken, obviously. So, this is the third morning I’ve found this had happened! So I took the tablets, applied the Phorpain gel, guzzled some of the pathetically weak Peptac medicine, and put in the Saccades Sandra drops in the eyes. Bit of a job innit, gerrin’ up. Hehehe! I took an extra Codeine 60mg, as BPB was still nagging away at me, and I had Anne Gyna beginning to stab all around the chest as well now. Also, I made sure I took the Dioctyl® capsule, that is important not to miss, as it is just beginning to win the fight against Conrad Constipation, and I do not want to end up on the Throne for hours at a time again!

The blood pressure was down a decent amount, to 152/72. Which was unexpected and welcome. We’ll see wots wot, next time! I mustn’t get too excited. Simper!

The temperature was up a bit, too 36.8° c, the highest it’s been for months. I think this is a good sign, too?

I got the computer on, and back to the wet-room for Porcelain Throne session No.2!

No rushing to get there this time. A repeat style of evacuation as the one earlier, but with a bit less pain involved, Super!

I got on with updating the Friday blog. Not a lot left to do on it, uploading the photos took a while, but it was soon all done, a lot more time checking and double-checking, and got posted off.

I emailed the link. Went on the WordPress reader, some fantastic stuff of there today. Then Pinterested a few pictures. Answered some comments, and caught up on Facebooking.

Made the first mug of Glengettie of the day, and took a picture from the unwanted, light & view-blocking kitchen window. It wasn’t top quality, but it showed the lights along Winchester Street at the back and Ramsdale Crescent, closest.

I made the brew, and brought it to the computer and booted it up. I made a start on this blog for a few hours and stopped around 06:30hrs, as the ablutions would soon be needed to be done before the Iceland delivery arrived, that would be anywhere twixt 08:00 > 10:00hrs.

Well, Back to the Porcelain Throne again, for the third time! Pilestosufferagaintime! So, I opted to get the Ablutionalisaitoning done at the same time. I’m assuming that I made a mistake (No, it does sometimes happen, Chortle!), altered timing of the medications.

Which was due to my stupidity, puerility, cretinism, and asininity in missing the evening medication-taking for the last three nights. But it didn’t bother me at all. Egads!

This third Throne affair was not as good as the earlier two were. Humbugski! Only because Harold’s Haemorrhoids poured out the blood so freely. Took me ages to stop the flow, medicate things and clean up. Then I had to get a scuttle on with the ablutioning.

But it went okay. Had it not been for the teeth bleeding, a few little nicks shaving, at least a dozen dropsies, my clearing the cabinet of all the items, giving myself a knock on the head while trying to get down using the picker-upperer to retrieve the ointments, tablets, sprays and olive oil from where they had to fall, behind the cistern. Why in hell, couldn’t they have fallen on the free open space on the floor? Skullclogglebonks!

Ah, well, at least the pins and toes, although mega-pale, were looking, and feeling okay and alright this flipping Friday morning.

When I came out, the lighting and colours outside looked unreal, as if the Lord had just repainted them.

So, once I’d dressed. I got my Nokia camera and took these three pictures. (Ah! I meant the Nikon camera, sorry). Mr Billumski, the Ohio State RCM (Red Car Monitoring) President, will be interested in the great number on sight in the road and car parks today? Or not!

The photo I took straight ahead from the balcony window (That’s the one with the habit of the metal-spring-clip that needs pushing and pulling at the same time to open or close and have mangled many a finger, mine and even the NCH fitters, sent to mend them!) I’m waffling again, forgive me. The colouring kept changing, and the weak sunshine was covered by the clouds, but I managed to catch it this time. Bootiful!

I got the ‘YourArea’ magazine opened, and found some Coronavirus figures on it. At first glance, it appeared a little scary, but on closer inspection, the 878 figure was for the last seven days. Which us about 40% down on the rolling total.

But the crime figures I found for Sherwood, didn’t look too good! I copied this article for a bit of interest. Incidentally, between the two other people I’ve actually spoken to this week, and myself; None of us has seen a uniformed policeman in Sherwood for months now! Not good! I love the comment from the Neighbourhood Police Inspector!

Did some work, updating my personal dictionary, and the Iceland delivery man, he rangeth the intercom. I pressed the release button, and two Nottingham City Homes men were leaving as he entered.

I feel it only fair, to inform the gentlemen, that for a few second, we can hear what they are saying when someone calls us. I’ll say no more!

The gentleman dropped the bags inside the door for me and was looking a tad stressed. I assumed this was with his being running behind on his deliveries a little. So, I slipped him a can of plonk and thanked him profusely. Which cheered him a little and brought a half-smile to his face, which in turn, cheered me up!

I moved the carrier bags into the kitchen. I seem to have bought more than usual? Then set about storing the purchases away. I soon realised that I’d bought some Christmas treats on this order, that was why there seemed a lot.

The cleaners I put in the main junk room. I’d only bought one bag of frozen, potatoes shapes, and had worked out I could just about get it in the fridge. But it was a 50% Extra Free bag. So had a job on making room to get it to go in the drawer. Hahaha!

I got the hands wet with the ice, and (without thinking, as usual) l rang the hot water tap to wash and dry the hand. But I got sidetracked when I dropped a packet of biscuits. So I fetched the picker-upperer to retrieve them with, as I say, unthinkingly leaving the hot water tao running, I returned and dipped my hand in the bowl… Aghh! I ran cold water on it for ages, then rubbed some Savlon in the skin. What an Eizel!

When I got around to putting the things in the fridge, another struggle, moving things around to get the new fodder to go in, Tsk! I split the red grapes in half and put them in a carrier in the original box to take down to Jenny. I added one of her Christmas treats and a bag of wholemeal cobs. Well, they were such a good offer price, but I had to buy two packs to get the offer. And thought of Jenny, Doris and the charity she supports so much. Waste not, want not!

I then got the three-wheeler guide and put them in it, to take down to Jen’s apartment. I got down, rang her bell, and came back up in the elevator.

As I turned, BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) was giving me more discomfort, I can’t understand what set her off this morning? I had the struggle to get the trolley back in the door again. Something else that confuses me, I’ve never had bother like this getting in the door before, until this week? Most peculiar?

As I was getting ready to take some more photographs, it suddenly went so dark.

And yet, by the time I grabbed the camera, the sun was out, but obviously only through a small hole in the clouds.

I took a well-zoomed-in shot of the kiddies play area in Woodthorpe Grange Park. A few folks out there enjoying themselves, and was so pleased to see them all being good and observing the social-distancing rules, bless ’em.

I was getting a little weary now, and wondered on what to have for my nosh. I opted for smoked streaky bacon (from Germany this time from Iceland, last week it was from Poland, but it looked a bit fatty!) I only have two tins of tomatoes left, neither of them with a ring-pull opener.

I tried the new battery-operated one, but no luck with getting it to do anything yet. I read the instruction once more. I was about to make a change in plans, no way do I want to use the old finger-cutting one again; And, I tried the old-new one, Gotten-Himmel, it worked – but not all the way around the lid! I got the oven glove and carefully as I could, opened it far enough to pour the chopped tomatoes into the saucepan! Smug-Mode Grade2 Adopted.

I put the bacon on a tray and into the oven with it. Then investigated which seasoning to use. I got carried away I think, I added some Hickory, Soy Sauce, Squid vinegar and mild chilli powder. GAve it a good stirring, while thinking what a twit I was using these additions. Yet, after stirring for ages, I tried a spoonful, and I liked it! I’ll wait to see what it tastes like with the bacon in, before getting carried away. Hahaha!

It was grand! The wholemeal cobs were flavourful. Taste-Rating 8/10. It was devoured with delight!

All-in-all, a mixed day ailment-wise. I’ve had worse, much worse.

Obersturmbannführeress Deana popped in for a quick How yer doing?

Then, I had a wash, took the medications (Aha, I remembered!), and got down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, tatterdemalion, heavy yet tottery, rickety recliner, in search of Sweet Morpheus – and it didn’t take long to find!

Inchcockski -Tuesday 17th November 2020: A cheerless, chagrined, challengingly, changeable day.

18/11/2020 / Inchie / 6 Comments

TFZers at the Cottage ♥

Tuesday 17th November 2020

Estonian: Teisipäev, 17 November 2020

23:35hrs: I stirred back into mock-life, frit myself as I passed an involuntary eruption of flatulence and in a hurried kerfuffle, I got my mahoosive, wobbly-bellied body out of the recliner, and straight towards the wet room, in an urgent need of the Porcelain Throne. (Not catching by balance first or taking Metal Mickey with me – but I got away with it, Phew!)

I got in the wet-room post-haste, without any falls, bags or dizzies. Whipped off the PP’s and once again the movement stopped of its own accord, seemed to get stuck, and I reached for the crossword book. But a minute or so later, it started again, eagerly! The complete evacuation was over in about a minute!

But the Dioctyl® capsules seem to be working more effectively against Constipation Konrad this time. I’d say it was a 2-0 win against Trotsky-Terence this morning. A messy affair mind, I had to clean up, and the product produced needed a refill or two from the sink, to clear things away. Hey-Ho! The most important thing at the time, was it was far-less painful, and only a few specs of Harold Haemorrhoid’s blood.

Panicky waking moments to the day, but the pleasure of the release from pain made up for it, and I was almost chuffed for once. But resisted going into a Smug-Mode yet, knowing my luck this cannot last for long. Hehehe!

After taking the photo of the tank being refilled (Not a bad job that, with the right hand as well) Go on then, into Smug-Mode. I notice that for some unknown reason, the right arm was much redder, than the rest of my body? I took this snap of it, I don’t know why.

Then, I had a wash and antisepticised the touch-areas, and off to the front room to get the Health Checks done. The Boot’s old type BP sphygmomanometer read 61 for the SYS, which was fair enough, I thought, certainly lower than the previous few days. Smug-Mode retained!

The body temperature was also okay.

I did not take the morning medications, because I found the pot with the evening tablets still in it. (Oh, things might be returning to usual here!) I’ll take the morning ones later on when the Warfarin has had time to weaken as they are digested. I can’t remember why, but some iota of memory told me to.

I went to check that I’d not left the tap running again, (I do that sometimes yer know, Humph!) and took this slightly moody but half-decentish shot of the morning view of the sky and sleeping population’s dwellings, houses, flats, apartments, alleyways. There are even two manufacturing businesses out there still trading!

Not all of them will be kipping, the NHS staff will be risking their lives coping with the Coronavirus pandemic, delivery persons out and about. Burglars, muggers and drug-dealers, naturally! Not forgetting the uniformed Nottingham City Policemen, I should think that half of the force would be out there somewhere. But I couldn’t spot either of them. Hahahaha!

I got on with the need to get some templates made up, I was well behind with everything with all yesterday evenings interruptions. It took me about four hours to get them all finished, and I was beginning to feel a bit drained.

I think the Furesomides were working well too, I needed to have repeated wee-wees throughout the session. Altogether, they would not have filled the kettle, they were dribbling weak efforts. So, I made the first mug of Glengettie of the day and returned to the computer.

I made up a few graphics to go on the templates, and finished yesterdays blog, got it posted off, Pinterested a few snaps, and caught up with Facebooking. Went on the WordPress Reader, then I answered some comments from my cyber-friends.

I made a late breakfast, very nice too! But couldn’t eat it all.

Checked on the Google Calendar, that Morrison’s are delivering today, twixt 13:00 > 14:00 hrs. When they have arrived, if I am still got some mental and physical energy left, I must make one up for next week, if I can get a delivery slot, that is.

I stopped to get the Ablutions done. A stand-up job with it being too early to use the noisy shower. It well as smoothly as it has done for weeks. But, Gawd knows how, but I forgot to have a shave? I’ll tend to it later, Tsk!

The body was extremely ashen again, but the feet were still much less affected by the saying off, it seems, ulcers and papules?

Hello, off to the Porcelain Throne again. A repeat performance of the last one, but no bleeding this time. Good, innit?

I made another brew of tea, Thompsons Punjana this time, and tool the belated morning medications.

Around 0740hrs, a call came in on the landline—a recorded message, from a fast-talking, none-stopping female. I could make very little out of what she was saying, but I did pick-up; the word Prime, and £79 something from your account? Help!

I attempted to make an order for Iceland for next week. But had to settle for one for next Friday 20th, between 08:00 >10:00. No Chilli Con Carne, but I tried some meatballs in BBQ gravy instead.

Then, I had a look at what Morrison slots were available. Bit of luck, I got one for next Tuesday! 0900>1000hrs!

All sorted out, pleased now that no more hassle, mind you, today’s Morrison one hasn’t arrived yet, better say nowt!

I got the waste-bags made up, and got them In a box on the three-wheeler. A bit of a struggle to get it out of the door, but I coped – the scrape on the back of the hand against the door frame is nothing to a man like me. Ahem!

I went back to check on the spuds in the slow cooker, also to check I’d not left anything on that shouldn’t be, like heat or the taps) Not confident? Me? Hah! You’re right!

I got to and in the waste-room, put all the bags down the chute, came out, backwards, and to the lift. As I was awaiting the arrival of the cage, it dawned on me, I’d not banged or walked into anything, and the ailments were no bother, Zilch hassle! Very worrying!

I got down to Jenny’s floor, and there were no shoes outside the flat. So, no point in pressing the bell, so I put the carrier on the floor and back to the elevator, which soon arrived, and down to the ground floor with the recycle box atop the three-wheeler trolley walker.

This top photograph shows the view of the lift lobby as I got out of the cage!

I poddled along to the end on the corridor, see here in all it’s majesticness and splendour. It’s been so long since I’ve escaped the 12th-floor.

I turned right into the main lobby, and out to temporary freedom, to get the cardboard and plastic in the green bin.

I turned around and had a lookup to the left along Chestnutnut Walk, then ahead of the car park and the gravel hill path up into Woodthorpe Grange Park.

I took a picture each turn I made, left, across and to the right, they are all on that order on the right here.

Nice to get out and do some photography after such a long time.

But I could not take too long, as the Sainsbury order delivery time hour is three hours away, and I have to get back up in case they phone up, or the intercom goes off.

The three frames all have something other in common, other than they are all of Chestnut Walk – they are all barren of any tellurians as far as I could see, a lonely, sad sight this site! Hehehe!

I swiped myself into the lobby doors, with there odd bits of stuck on notices about the works and Coronavirus, and sticking half-way open door. Struggled a bit top get the front wheel of the trolley-walker-guide over the raised grippers on the floor.

I got in and had a perusal of the notice come blackboard that was not black. A whiteboard I think, with the rub-outability function for marker pens, to see what I’d been missing.

It was advising the tenants on the lower floors the lockdown will turn into a lock-in on odd days, while they lay the new lift lobby flooring on their levels.

I bet someone will come out and tread in the setting cement again. Haha!

I meandered through and into the ground floor lift lobby. I did see the odd harassed looking worker rushing about while I waited, but no tenants anywhere whatsoever.

It’s a good social life here, you know!

I was taking this photographicalisation of the electronic notice board, and the lift cage arrived – no one in it to chat or say good morning to.

I was soon back up in the cell… I mean, flat.

I put the guide away in the corner and had a little natter with Scruffy and Katie.

My pets, don’t you know! Donated to me Scruffy from Canada and Koala Kate from Australia TFZers after I’d had the stroke. Bless them! ♥ Makes me so cared for that did, all those miles away, not surprising I love em!

Jenny rang to tell me off for leaving the treats for her, Doris, Frank or their charities as she wanted to, at her flat door. We hat a natter which was super, but I was wary of not hearing the intercom in case the Morrison delivery arrived. But it worked out well, just as she rang off, the intercom came to life!

I met the man at the door, and he proceeded to put the goods into the box, and bag for me. Slipped him a can of Vodka and lime, and dragged the folder into the kitchen to sort them out. Well, what crap substitutions again!

It looks like they have made money out of me according to how it reads above? Swine! Gits! Basta… Never mind! I got some terrible substitutes. Gin & lemon – I got Gin & tonic, Red Potatoe battered cakes, I get the McCains salt and pepper chips again, which are crap-tasteless! Shaving foam, Chilli con Carne subs.

But the daftest thing was my own fault. I really thought I had ordered a pack of six salt & black pepper rolls, Hehehe! Each roll was like a small loaf! I thought Jenny would be able to use them for someone, so I rang her and took them down to her flat.

Then got the stuff put away.

Peed off now at me, that is the third time I’m tried to order the

Battered sweet red potatoes from Morrisons this year, and every time they have subbed the totally not red potatoes, not battered either, shit McCains salt and black pepper pathetic crap… crap… crap!

Still, it doesn’t bother me too much. Huh!

I finished hoarding the unwanted goods, swearing and name-calling verbally at Morrisons, last week it was Sainsbury’s. Globranglings!

I had no choice other than to throw the shit-chips away or eat them, so I abandoned my plans for a CCC (Chilli-Con-Carne) and got the sickening tasting, soggy, bland, crap, rubbish unwanted McCains chips, substituted for Sweet Potato cakes in batter, in the oven.

While they were cooking, I took these three zoomed-in pictures from the unwanted, unlike, light and view-blocking new kitchen.

The top one should have shown you a Christmas tree-lights. But, in my usual Cock-it-up fashion, it came out all horrible and unclear. (I’m good at taking photographs like this. Hehe!)

I burnt a finger-knuckle getting the Morrison’s sickeningly imitation, pretend, substitute for Sweet potatoes in the batter. And got the sordid, bland, gunk of kak, chips, I wouldn’t have anything else with them, knowing they would only taint anything else on the plate with their disgusting sweet sickly flavour.

I got some of the Milk Roll loaf bread, (Oh, a thank you to Morrisons for having some Milk Roll in stock, and not substituting with nail polish, or firelighters, nice one, cheers!) and I put a drop of BBQ sauce in the dish, to try and mask the taste of the chips a bit. But that was a Morrison own-label brand sauce, that made things worse!

The garbage-chips looked as bad as they tasted. Very grim! No flavour rating is given unless something like ‘Flavour Rating: Minus 10’ would be grammatically correct? I only ate a few of them, gooey chips, flavourless apart from the black pepper, the sauce was probably made from bleach and drain cleaner, and I went into a nasty, wanting revenge mood!

When I’d got the cleaning up and the ablutions all done, (although no shave again?) I got down to watch the TV, but I knew I would not need this medium tonight for flaking-out into the arms of Sweet Morpheus, I was drained, the eyelids were drooping. I needed something to satisfy my unhealthy morbidity, frustrations with nothing going right, and temporarily bring some good thoughts into my grey-cell box.

I did imagine I was a Mafia-boss and was making plans of attacking Morrisons and Sainsburys, to get revenge for the way they have treated me this past two weeks. But guilt, and certainty that I was losing-it, stopped my progress, and Morpheus arrived to enfold me in sweet peace.

I woke an hour or so later, and was sure I heard music? But I didn’t even bother to do my usual hunt around when I’m woken by these unknown clatters or bangs, for fear of something had fallen, or leaked, or whatever, to cause the sound. I was not interested.

But, could I get back to sleep? No! Soddit! Grumbleackers!

Inchcockski – Thurs 5 Nov 20 (Bonfire Night): The Computer, Dentist and let-downs, resulted in Konrad Confusion

06/11/2020 / Inchie / 21 Comments

TFZer Chefs – Alcohol to hand! ♥

Thursday 5th November 2020

Welsh: Dydd Iau 5ed Tachwedd 2020

He was a little monkey, that Guy Fawkes!

02:15hrs: Woke and remembered the computer not working and letting me add any photographs.

And my depression returned, immediately. Down in the dumps before I’d even thought about getting up out of the recliner! Sickeningly sorry for myself! Not interested in getting up at all, then I recalled that it’s the dentist visit early today. And that got me even more discouraged! Things ain’t going very well at the moment!

Then the double need of a wee-wee and the porcelain Throne arrived together. A funny, rare feeling that! So, off to the wet room. For one of the messiest-ever evacuations. It seems that Trotsky Terence is fighting back! Tsk!

I had a lengthy cleaning up spell, ashed and went to the kitchenette to do the Health Checks and make a brew. The BP was SYS 75, Dia62, and Pulse 85. The thermometer reading was 34.4°c. The shame of not being able to photograph them, no point if the bloody computer is not going to recognise the drives. I sank even lower into the darkness of depression.

On the computer to make a template, and even that wasn’t easy. Various ailment attacked and completed the job lengthy, hard work, and got on my goat!

Then a Porcelain Throne No.2 was needed. Not as bad as the first one, but still messy.

Back to the computer and eventually got the updating done, emailed the link, Facebook and WordPress Reader section visited. This task took me a few hours to achieve.

Then, the Porcelain Throne No.3 was needed. Back to chronic Trotsky Terence’s control; a mess and cleaning up gain. What’s happening?

Did a start to this blog, but time beat me, I was too slow to achieve much, thanks to SSS and Nicolas, mainly. Now, I had to get the ablutions done, or I may be late for the dentist, and I know that the shaving must not be rushed, my EQ has just warned me? Hehe! Back in a bit, I hope…

(Continued from arriving home after the Dentist’s visit and some shopping, and a miracle, the photos are now being read and accepted again?!?!)

Ablutiuonalisationing: I did take my time in shaving, and no cuts at all. A few dropsies overall, about ten, but no injuries whatsoever! But no showering cause it was too early, a stand-up bath of sorts. A Swank and Smug Mode Adopted! Fair enough, there was just the one walking into the door frame on leaving, but of no consequence, a feather-duster blow.

I got some bags made up and taken to the waste-chute. And before leaving to go to the dentist, I started Computer Katie and tried to load the photos again, Well I was flabbergasted, my flab has never been so ghasted! They were accepted! So, not feeling confident about this, I uploaded yesterday’s pictures to CorelDraw straight away.

Which meant I needed to hurry a little now, before setting out on my trip to Mansfield Road, Sherwood taking the gravel hill up into Woodthorpe Grange. The layered evening sky shots, one to the left, straight ahead and to my right.

The others were of the Chilli-Con-Carni evening meal I had, then the and well enjoyed evening meal. I added some passata, mil chilli seasoning, bags of potatoes and some Balsamic vinegar to the mix.

If I recall correctly, it was an 8.5/10 for flavour rating! Hence the well scraped with the bread thins dish. A lemon mousse dessert, and I even left a slice of the bread uneaten. But then again, I’d put a load of spuds in with it. Hehehe! Slurp!

Yee-Ha! But I’ll wait until I try putting the ones on taken today before I get too excited! I took the little Canon camera with me, and as I went out of the lobby door, I spotted my first photographable thing, a large moth I think, on the glass of the filthy lobby windows.

I got a message on the camera ‘This card needs formatting and clearing before using’. Oh, ‘ecky thump! So I went back into the flat and swapped it for an old SD card, and tried that, I’m glad to say, it was accepted. Phew!

I thought I was doing well, I got down in the lift to the lobby, and out across Chestnut Walk and started up the gravel path, into Woodthorpe Grange Park. I got about half-way up, and the breathing was difficult, and I took my first breather. Had to have another break as well before I got up to the top.

But things improved once I was on level ground. In fact, it sloped a bit, and my scrawny, Clopidogrel pot-marked, short little legs got a belt on then, and no breathing problems.

The weather was not bad at all, and I soon found myself at the bottom and turning left along Mansfield Road.

Where I saw this Pavement Cyclist coming towards me, and he just rode on the road against traffic, and right in front of a white van coming out of Trevose Gardens, then back on the pavement and I had manoeuvre out of his way! As he shot by me close, he shouted ‘Couldn’t’… Ah, I see now, it was most likely a naughty word that sounded similar!

The poor mite was likely scared to death to go on the road, but the fungal-face, frigging, flipping, fuck-tard, facinorous, factious, foul-mouthed, fellow can’t help himself, I wished I could have helped him – to fall into the road and get ran-over! But I jest, of course. I think. Scumball! Gragglespitgurgler!

Up the hill, and down to the Co-op Store, where my weakness for food shopping was controlled to a degree! But when they have Sourdough batches on sale, and Frazzles in stock, one is going to be tempted! Hehehe!

Back up the hill, timing it well, (it was just good luck that I wasn’t late) to get there on time. The first challenge for me was bringing up the three steps with the walker-guide and shopping bag, walking stick and umbrella, not to mention the stuff bought at the Co-op shop. Hehehe! I made a hash of it, and some staff came to have a look what the noise and kerfuffle, was all about.

It was fun trying to talk with the receptionist, though. I’m not sure who heard less of what the other was saying! Anyway, they told me to sit down, and came over to me with questions, etc., the major embarrassment was my not knowing my landline number. Went through medical changes from the last visit – she was sorry she asked me, I think, I did go on a bit telling her of the Peripheral Neuropathy, the Stroke, the Diabetes and Saccades Sandra.

I got the crossword book out, and the other receptionist came over, asking if I could manage the stairs up the two floors to the surgery. I said its a struggle, but I made it last time. The other lady joined us, and she told me she’d arranged for me to go into the ground floor room to be done. But it will not be my usual dentist. I hid the beaming smile under my facemask, I’ve never liked him anyway, he’s curt and uninterested, plus he enjoys testing the teeth with venom and gusto, and only stops after I have cringed or said ‘Ow!’ This news cheered me up a tad!

A minute or so later, a young lady (I still notice these things you know! Haha!), arrived and escorted me to a surgery; where the female dentist set about asking the right questions, (whether she was absorbing the answers, I don’t know) but she was a lot gentler with her prodding. I pointed out the tooth that was giving me a little pain, and that there was a hole in the tooth. This didn’t seem to bother her, and she took some X-rays and declared my teggies as being okay. She gave me paperwork to hand to the receptionist when I pay her. I thanked her and wobbled to the reception desk.No receipt for the money spent, mind?

Now hear this – for it is the truth: The receptionist said she had arranged for a ground floor surgery to be used on my next visit, took the money and gave me an appointment on a Thursday, for 13th May 2021 @ 09:00hrs. Then, the other receptionist came out and helped me down the lethal steps, bless her, and a chap passing by came and steadied me when Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, launched one of his involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances as I was going down the steps. All very embarrassing, yet heartwarming at the same time. ♥

I made my way to the Ozan Continental Food store. Where I lost it completely with all that food around me, and got carried away without a care in the world about whether I needed the stuff or just fancied it! I came across the Krakus canned Boczek and bought a tin, the none of Golonkowa, erm, then a Lopatka and Moussaka… a can of Monalisa Foul Mecames, a can of sausage and beans and Roasted fresh Meat Loaf. I must curtail my fondness of food foraging!

The meatloaf Ingredients: Pork 40%, Chicken meal 20%, drinking water with root vegetables, carrots, parsnips, & peas, breadcrumbs, onion, garlic, nitrate salt, marjoram, and burnt sugar. Well, I’ll give it a go with some of the Sourdough bread later I got, later…

♫ Oh, the good life, full of food seems to be the ideal,
Mmm, The good life lets you eat Marmite and cow-heel,
You won’t fall in love for you can’t take the chance
Overeat and destroy romance, and lose your balance… ♫

A little bit of silliness there, sorry, no charge! Hehehe!

I strode up Mansfield Road and right onto, Winchester Street to await a bus up the hill back home. Thinking, well dreaming, of little other than the meatloaf I’d bought, and the butter to go on the sourdough bread batch, and tomatoes…

The pipping of the car horns brought me out of my foodstuffs-reverie. A dirty astonishing massive lorry was trying to turn around on Winchester Street to make a delivery perhaps, or had he seen how steep the road was and had a lot of weight one? I know about having a lot of weight on, you know!

The bus driveress, handed me a leaflet to read, about a service where we can travel for half-fare and get picked up from the flats, well that’s worth looking into.

We were soon back at Winwood Heights, and someone unknown helped me off at the bus stop. Thank you, muchly ♥.

I hobbled along and called in at the ILC’s (Independent Living Coordinators), holding cell, interrogation room and office, to have a word with Hauptbereitschaftsleiteress Warden Deana. No one in. I’ll ring, later on, and I must ask her to ring the Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, to make sure they are not going to let me down with the medications again.

I poddled along to Woodthorpe Court and into the lift cage, hello, some wet on the floor I found. No idea what it was, so I avoided treading in it.

Up to the 12th floor, and out and into the apartment. I had a wee-wee first, (How surprising, Hehe!)

Then I got the purchases stored away, after checking them out.

On closer inspection, I was greatly disappointed to see that the roasted meatloaf I’d purchased, had a use-by date of only three days! Never mind, I intended to eat it tonight, so no problem. It’s just that I now fancied some Chilli-Con-Carne instead. Humph!

I telephoned Dean later, and she will come to see me later on this afternoon, she has an important meeting on first.

I made a brew and got on with updating this blog. Thankfully, the computer is currently accepting and recognising the SD card reader.

I spotted the note wot I wrote to remind me about the dentist. A good job I remembered innit?

I had a look at the ‘YourArea’ email magazine thingy, for any up to date Coronavirus figures. This is all I found, but the Red Alert has been removed from the site.

This is for Nottinghamshire.

Well, no Deana yet, and it’s now gone my meal start time, and I’ll need to get some kip in soon. I’ll bet the meeting Deana’s at is one of those on-and-on sessions. I want to wash and strip off ready, but it would be too much of a shock for the gal if she came then. Hahaha!

But, I need to know about the medications soon, especially with the new ones supposedly going on the monthly list. I’m surprised that Chemist owner Deepak hasn’t answered my email, it was him that told me to send one when I was three days away from running out? Well, now in the morning, I’ll only have sufficed medications in stock, for tomorrow alone. Oh, dear!

I want to get the nosh prepared, but, oh, well. Sleep escapes me again. My fault for going to kip so early, mind you, but not today!

Got the meal prepared. I opened the meatloaf, and got it slices, and tried a nibble, in case I was not too fond of it. The vegetables were chunky, the garlic and chilli in the meat were strongish (for my tastes), but I quite liked it all the same.

Got the Sourdough bread sliced (No cut fingers, although a few dropsies doing it). Put the beans with the mild chilly seasoning and tomatoes from the saucepan into the dish—a flavour rating of 7/10. But the meatloaf was tasty enough.

I got the TV on to accompany me while I ate the fodder, and as I noted a Kitchen Nightmare was coming up soon, so as I finished the food, I went and got the washing up done.

The view from the unwanted, thick-framed, light & view-blocking kitchen windows was impressive. I took a couple of photos, and one down onto Chestnut Walk.

The iconic IRCMS (International Red Car Monitoring Services) (Ohio Branch), top head supremo, Billumski Zeighyler, will note there are three red vehicles on this Chestnut Walk view tonight. One moving a bit rapidly? Yes!

Doing the pot washing resulted in a few, I’m afraid to say.

I know have one less, nae, in fact, no drinking glasses left now – doomed to be smashed on the floor, thanks to Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failure!
Carefully I collected the glass, taking particular care not get any cuts.
But I did clout my shoulder against the sink getting back up again from the floor. Huh!
Emptying the bowl, SSS Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley started, and the floor had to be mopped dry, and body towelled. Oy, Oy, Oy!
The only painful part, was when I banged the Cartilage Cathy little finger on the tap (faucet). That stung a bit!

I eventually got down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, rachitic, tatterdemalion, heavy yet tottery, senescent, hoary, worn-out, rickety recliner, and turned on the TV.

My £889, Nokia 8.3 5G, with 171.9 x 78.56 x 8.99mm, 220g Side fingerprint scanner, and Google Assistant button, Punch hole camera, LCD 21:9, 60Hz, and 6.81-inch display, mobile rang forth and flashed. (This may not describe exactly, the model of my mobile, but near enough, Hahaha!)

A distant sounding voice, that seemed possibly Polish or Latvian, (No lousy language heard) began to mouth-off, moaning about a taxi or something. By the time I got into the one-way conversation and told the man, I was not a taxi company; he rang off immediately. Ah, well! I hope the gentleman got his cab after all.

Resettled in the recliner once again, I took the medications, and the Gordon Ramsay programme came on. I’d seen it before, so turned off the set. This was when the Thought-Storms exploded, with concerns and worries. Will the cpmputer still recongnise the Card reader? – Why did the dentist tell me the tooth was alright; when it obviously isn’t? – Will I remember to try and catch Deana again to ask her to ring the chemist for me about the prescriptions? – Why on earth did I buy the meatloaf? How do I find someone to cut my ever longer and getting warped toe-nails? – I must get to call in the opticians to get my glasses adjusted – Why did I go a complete day without a leg-dance of any note? (not complaining though) – There is someting else I had to remember for Friday, I know there is, but what?

But SSS shook me out of the mindset I was in, and in doing so, I knocked the TV remote and tablet tray that was resting in the folds of my flabby-stomach belly down between the recliner and chair – And they can stay there!

Humph!

Inchcock Today – Wednesday 28th October 2020:

29/10/2020 / Inchie / 2 Comments

TFZers ♫ Singing in the Rain ♫ Anglo-American Production

Wednesday 28th October 2020

Spanish: Miércoles 28 de Octubre de 2020

00:15hrs: I came back to semi-life, having only gotten to sleep an hour or so before, (Blungletadskis and Argh!) The need for a wee-wee developed as I was excruciatingly painfully removing my elephantine-like stomached body from the recliner. The reason for the discomfort being the returning furuncle in the posterior region. Undaunted, (but almost in tears), I proceeded to haul myself up onto my spindly legs and catch my balance, and wobbled off to the wet room, hopefully for a wee-wee, but you never know these days. Tsk!

I say wee-wee, it was another of the barely-perceptible 20-second mini-sprinkles, but with a high degree of AMD (After-Micturition-Dribble). But I’m used to this, so patiently waited, checking that things had really stopped, now and then, until it did.

I washed-up, and was coming out of the room as a sudden, urgent need for the Porcelain-Throne arrived! And a good job it did, had I got any further I would not have made it in time! Got down, the action, totally under the control of the innards started, and by the time I’d realised how painful it was, it had all finished! Talk about messy, again. Still, a bit of variety this morning, the khaki colour of the last few visits, had turned to a yellowish-deep-brown and consisted of the squashed meatball type. Only a small amount of bleeding, presumably from Harold’s Haemorrhoids. But it had made Furuncle-Fred annoyed and more inflamed, on its way out. He’ll need some attention after the ablutions.

Off to the kitchenette. Taking a picture from the light and view-blocking, impossible to get at to clean, rain-letting-in, and designed by an old-age pensioner-hating, gerontophobic, scared of old age designer, windows. Not too bad an effort. Moody?

I got the kettle on, and then tackled the Health Checks. The SYS level came out high again at 161, the DIA and Pulse seemed okay to me. The new digital, no-touch, forehead thermometer was used, as the other two were not working again. Why does this happen? I suppose it’s all down to the mysterious wonders of Woodthorpe Court: The ghosts, hobgoblins, boll-weevils, aliens, gremlins, grotesqueries, urchins, karakia-cursing entities, hallucinations. Materialisations, poltergeist, lemures, wairuas, kehuas, manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum, usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan mission; ‘To destroy the sanity, confuse, and scare the hell out of Inchcock’?

Anyway, the temperature was fine, at a healthier than of late, 34.1°c.

I made the brew of Glengettie tea and took the medications.

Then I got Computer Cameron on the go, and nipped back to the kitchen, to take a Dioctyl® capsule, that I’d forgotten earlier.

I had a little chinwag with my TFZer donated flatmates, Koala Katie, and Teddy Teresa for a while (Don’t laugh!).

Then started working on the computer. Photograph-sorting first. Replied to an Email from Jenny, then started to update the Tuesday blog, which took me hours of graft, too much concentration, a ton of mistakes, and forever being corrected, for hours and hours! The hands were not too steady this morning.

I went to make a mash of Glengettie tea, and I saw the moon was out. And what a right picklement I made of the photographicalisationing, thank mostly to Nicodemus’s flipping neurotransmitters playing up at the wrong time again. I got one right! Phwert!

Finished off the post, and sent it to WordPress. Pinterested some photos, and emailed the link off. Went on Facebook, and replied to some comments, got the picture albums updated. Replied to some views on WordPress. Then went to make another mug of tea, Thompsons Punjana this time.

Ablutions the next job. A pretty good session all bar the showering, many dropsies and a few bangs and knocks against the grab rail.

Iceland delivery. Put the goods away; I didn’t anticipate getting the Milk Roll bread at all, because they have not had any in for months of ordering it; so I ordered some rolls as well. They caught me out with sending the lot today! Serves me right for trying to be clever!

I took the rolls down to Jenny’s door, that gal will make sure things are made use of properly. Bless her.

I returned to the apartment, after another job and a half getting the lift back up. And I got things ready for ‘Escape ‘Isolation to Town – No.6’ trip.

A separate blog with all photos to be made. I’ll put the link in here later. Here it is Inchcock’s Escape from Lockdown! Picture Style and in Ode

I checked to see I’d got everything needed: Card, bus-pass, keys and fob, money, list etc. and soon set out off on my escape to town! Here are a few photos taken on the visit to Nottingham City Centre, all of them are in Escape blog.

I set out, full of vim, energy, vitality and in fine-form health and mentally… Well, maybe not, then! Anyway, I took a picture of each of the Courts at Winwood Heights, along Chestnut Walk. Woodthorpe, Winwood and Winchester.

I called in Winwood Court, to see ILCs (Independent Living Coordinators) Wardens, Reichsführer and Catwalk Model Warden Deana, and Sturmscharführer Pole-dancer, Julie, in their holding and interrogation office, for a little quick natter.

Not as cosy as the old rooms in the Portacabin, but then with all the new residents they have to confine and control, they need the room to store the handcuffs, pepper-spray and barbed-wire-edged facemasks. Hehehe!

Then caught the bus into town, the L9. A most uncomfortable ride, it was. Having to constantly keep my feet under the trolley-guide, to stop it spinning and running all over the place. By the time I’d got into town, Arthur Itis, and Colin Cramps were both giving me some stick! Hey-ho! The rest of the trip out tale is in the Poetic blog at the link above.

The ride back home, again on an L9 bus, was even more painful than the one going to town! The obvious stock-car-racing driver ensured I was in agony at times, during the trip. The company that runs the L9s have blocked off all of the side-saddle seats, so it’s challenging keeping the trolleys steady now. Colin Cramps was particularly annoyed with me.

I limped along, somewhat wearily now, (Poor old sausage!) and hobbled wobbly passed Winwood Court to Woodthorpe at the end of the road.

I got into the exquisitely stylish, graceful, ornamentally decorated, attractive entrance foyer, with the wedged-open fire doors, and took a little rest, as the breathing was not coming too easily now, All okay after few minutes though.

Then into the lift lobby. I took a snap of my youthful, attractive, masculine, muscle-toned features that drive women so wild, as the doors opened to the lift cage. (Alright! I was only dreaming. Hehe!)

I unloaded the three-wheeler, the nibbles and treats first. They (Poundland) had some mint flavoured Skinny Bars that I got, and they can be used as treats. The Toffifee’s are mine, all mine! Hahaha! Biscuits for treats as well.

The non-food purchases, which I was so pleased to find. Particularly the Lavender & Orange oil Dettol, which I had to pay a small fortune for, to get any, from Amazon. Great saving at £2 a bottle. Then the 30l waste bags, I took a gamble and got three rolls. I hope they are not too thin.

The highlight of my buys was finding some Frazzles, and I’d bought three bags of eight, so these will last me a long time. Sainsbury’s and Iceland have not had any in for ages. They are rather a weakness of mine; I can’t help it, I love ’em!

I got the chilli mix going, added some gravy to it, onions and forgot about the tomatoes, Tsk! But, I was tickled-pink in having the milk roll to soak up the generous amount of gravy I’d made. I’m getting into this Chill-Con-Carne, now. Even the canned ones are okay.

I imbibed the medications, washed, and the chilli was ready for serving up. The potatoes I put in it were not so nice, but everything else was spot on. The milk roll bread was perfect! (I’m repeating myself now, Tsk!) Overall Taste Rating was 7/10. Those potatoes let things down.

I got the camera on charging.

The heavens kept opening up and closing down; a lot of rain had been avoided at least. If I’d hot soaked while out as well as the pain, it would have been a nightmare. So, a bit of luck there for the grumpy old Nottinghamian pensioner!

Worrying, innit, him having good luck? Unnatural!

Too tired to even think about doing anything on the diary, I got stripped, jammie-bottom on, and down in the recliner really early, and got the TV on, and headphones over the head. I can’t remember what I watched, but I did find some Sweet Morpheus earlier than usual. I reckon that, although I woke up at midnight, I’d had a good five hours of sleep… Bootiful!

Inchcock – Sun 25 October 20: I floated from neurasthenia, utopia, depression and slothfulness. Worra day!

26/10/2020 / Inchie / 6 Comments

TFZer Keith: ♫ ‘Home, home on the range…’ ♫ Hehehe!

Sunday 25th October 2020

HMONG: Hnub Sunday 25 Lub Kaum Hli 2020

03:15hrs: I stirred into ersatz life, with the Thought-Storms that had made such a mess of my getting to sleep, still active, nae, rampant in the grey cells! Fungleboggles!

The new pain in the stomach area where I injected last night was stabbing away at me, although it could have been Anne Gyna, it’s hard to tell at times. I wasn’t Duodenal Donald, I’m sure.

I was busy trying to ignore the fears, hatreds and overwrought distracted thoughts milling about in my bonce, and help soon arrived in the form of a sudden and critical demand for the Porcelain Throne to be utilised.

I could sense the urgency, and feared that an embarrassing escapage was likely! Responding, by going into a semi-panic-stricken mode, a caution to the wind attitude was adopted, and I flailed about, knocking things off of the ottoman as I hauled my fat-fleshy, flaccid, flexuous, floppy, stomached heavy body onto my feet, got some balance, and was off to the wet room.

Hastening into the Throne-Room, the shoulder came into contact with the door frame, giving out a sicking crunching noise, and a jolt of pain! But this was not important at the time, getting the jammy-bottoms, and my bum on the toilet in time was more urgent (at least it took my mind off of the new stomach stings, Haha!).

This session was a real different one this morning, good and bad changes! Things flowed, to the accompaniment of the longest wee-wee I’ve ever had! The putrid aroma filled my lungs; the evacuation was over in a minute or so. Gawd, it was messy! It was a good job I have plenty of toilet paper in stock! The wee-weeing continued? Hard to tell really, but I do believe the wee-wee colour was lighter, at last! The gungy mass of stool filled the bowl so much, the wee didn’t have anywhere to go, and floated atop! Still, it took my mind off off the crunched shoulder and stomach pains for a while!

The tank had to be flushed twice to clear things, refilled by hand from the jug and sink. Then I had a soapy washing up, bleaching and sanitisationing session. Time for a feel of the shoulder, which the Accifauxpas did not set SSS Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley off?

No idea what it was on the arm, but I went to put some Savlon on it, and the lighter brown marks from this mornings clout into the doorframe, (I thought), nearly all disappeared, sort-of washed off? Just the bluey-red bruises underneath left now. Logicality, common sense was questioned, and a certainty that the end is nigh for my limited remaining scraps of judgement and level-headedness! This ought to put on telly; there’s bound to be someone who can save my sanity and tell me what happened?

I now had mixed feelings. Glad that Constipation Konrad had been beaten at last – but this has taken some time and effort: Nine days of the four-a-day Dioctyl® stool softeners. The week of MacroBid® UTI antibiotics and several meals of Chilli-Con-Carne. Hahaha!

I was not looking forward to doing the injecting of the Enoxaparin, so got it dealt with first! The new hypodermic needles, which I suspected would have longer needles, didn’t! That was a nice discovery, a glimmer of luck at last?

All went smoothly, and the old Medical Sharps bin, was too full to use, so I started the new one-off. This made me think about getting rid of them. I looked it up of the NHS site. This is what I found.

All confused now! I’ve re-capped the mall! I’d better get them all out and sort them, before getting rid of them to the Pharmacy. I’m certain that the Nottingham City Council do not collect them, or there would be a special, dedicated box for them at these old folks flats?

Nope! I can’t open the box’s to get them out. Another plan goes to pot! And the shoulder is starting to smart now! Grumptiville!

Ah, well, I got the Health Checks done, the old sphygmomanometer is still working. But the SYS is still too high. I wonder why? (I sigh!)

The no-contact thermometer was used, and, I got the camera all ready, to snap it before it self-turned off.

Off to the kitchen, got the kettle on the boil, and took this blind-snap of Chestnut Walk in the dark, below the thick-framed, new windows, that is impossible for disabled folk to get to for cleaning, thick-framed and obviously designed by someone who suffers from a hatred for the elderly and gerontophobia.

Made the brew of the tasty Glengettie tea, took the medications and got on the computer. I last nights photographs to CorelDraw. I faffed about a bit, going from one thing to another again, but eventually got the Saturday blog finished and posted it to WordPress. Then Pinterested some snaps. Did some Facebooking, then went on the WordPress Reader. I found an email from Jenny, offering me some more yellow tomatoes, bless her cotton socks, she’s going to bring them down for me later today, bless her cotton socks. ♥

Time to get the ablutions sorted out, I took the mug to the kitchen and took a photo of the beautiful morning view, to compare with the earlier one.

Then, it dawned on me after I’d stripped to get the ablutions done. I’d not changed the timing on my time-pieces. So I did! I changed the clock in the kitchen, the wet room travel clock, the wall clock that fell of the wall and the casing broke, that is now balanced, resting on the fireplace top, but had a feeling I’d missed something, ah-well, not to fret.

So off I trotted (Trotted? Hahaha!) to the wet room, and had a marvellous session, mostly. There was nae bother from Toothache Thomas, and just three dropsies. The shaving had only two minor nicks, but several dropsies. The showering was the only blight of the session. I clouted the same wounded shoulder again, as I was coming up from retrieving the shower gel bottle (Six dropsies altogether in there). The showerhead escaped my clutches and landed on my overgrown painful already left big toe… Then bounced back up right into the cartilage-troubled right knees patella!

If I recall correctly, I silently mouthed something like “Tsk, never mind, can’t be helped!” (Yer!)

The doing of the medicationalisationing had only two incidents worth mentioning, I knocked several of the medications off of the floor cabinet, and clouted my head against the metal frame of the seat-raiser as I stretched with the picker-upperer, to retrieve the Germoloid and Savlon tubes. Gragnangles!

Got dressed and had a search around for the hat I went into the wet room wearing, I’m sure I did, but it’s never been seen since. More of the mysterious wonders of Woodthorpe Court: The ghosts, hobgoblins, boll-weevils, aliens, gremlins, grotesqueries, urchins, karakia-cursing entities, hallucinations. Materialisations, poltergeist, lemures, wairuas, kehuas, manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan mission; ‘To destroy the sanity, confuse, and scare the hell out of Inchcock!’ They are working hard this morning!

I got the jammy-bottoms washed, all done, wrung and hung to dry, above the sink. Which proved later to be an idiotic thing to do, as I would need to use the sink while preparing Josie’s dinner! Crumpalisations!

The new pains in the left of the chest returned. I was surprised I noticed really, cause there are that many ailments having a go at me at the same time. The bruised arm, Duodenal Donald, the PKCCP (Proximal Knee-Cap-Cartilage-Pain), The toenail on the left foot, and just started, Reflux Roger. Silver-Lining-Result-Search-Result: At least the others are being kind to me. Humph!

I got the fodder made up, it was not easy, because (Big mouth here) SSS Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley was kicking off, I was getting soaked each time I used the sink, and Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters were letting me down. I was making more mess than ever before, and getting more het-up each time.

Still, Got it finished, it was just the thought of having to tackle all that was cleaning up afterwards that took the edge off what should have been my proud moment.

Pickled egg, silverskin onions, tomatoes, gherkins, sweet young carrots, anchovies, Tuna steak mixed with some balsamic vinegar and mayonnaise. And, of course, my world-famous, cheesy-mashed-spuds. I went the whole-hog today with them. New Zealand butter, sea salt, Squid vinegar, and parsley and black pepper, with just a drop of olive oil. I hope Josie likes them.

I got them delivered to her door, she asked what this and that was, and retired to feast on it (I hope). I got back in the kitchen and wondered who’d dropped the bomb, of course, the mess had been made by an army of contributors. Me, SSS, Nicodemus, Shaking Shaun and Saccades Sandra, to mention a few. Hehehe! But they didn’t help in cleaning up the picklement the kitchen was in, did they? Oh, no, that was left down to me. Swine!

As I had just got down on my knees to clean around the sink, where the dripping pyjamas had spilt over, and the door chimes rang out. At first, I thought it might be Josie with a problem or question, but no! I opened the door to see a wonderful sight! Jenny had been come up and delivered her treat for me, right outside the door; the yellow tomatoes. Double bless her! ♥ I don’t know how she got them so late in the year, but so appreciate her gesture. I got them in the fridge, ready to have later.

As I finished the cleaning up, Duodenal Donald doubled his determined damned pain giving efforts, and Dizzy Dennis returned. Tsk!

I got back on Computer Cameron to u[date this blog a little further. Then had a look for any new comments on WordPress. Two had come in, replied to them both.

Then went on the Sainsbury site, to increase my order for next Tuesday, of Chilli-con-carne. All done!

I visited the ‘Your Area’ latest newsletter.

Nosh prepping next, so weary suddenly. But it went well, but once again the various ailments meant me making a mess as I went along. Tsk!

Got the evening medications ready as I went along, and the plate of food served up. Not one of my tastiest efforts, but the Jenny supplied yellow tomatoes were great. I think maybe the Enoxaparin is playing tricks with my taste buds? Flavour rating: 6/10.

Got the pots in the sink to leave soaking. It’s the mess that the cheesy potatoes make yer know! I pretended to do some clearing up in the bomb-site (kitchen), but not a lot, in fact very little… well, hardly any!

The evening sky was worth a photo-taking, so I did.

None of the amazingly vivid colours of last night, but a blend of peaceful shades. And peaceful sounds good, and needed, to me!

Friday 25th September 2020: The Go-Wrongables were Rampant again. Glumbleclops!

26/09/2020 / Inchie / 7 Comments

TFZers Making a Film, perhaps? ♥

Friday 25th September 2020

Welsh: Dydd Gwener 25ain Medi 2020

23:58hrs (Yesterday): I woke, thanks to some noise that sounded like someone tapping hard with a stick on the floor, came from above? It may have been something in the water-works I suppose? It could have been going on for a while and did not bestir me earlier, but the five clunks, with a few seconds between them, I heard without my hearing aids in? I had to get up and have a look around, well, a wee-wee first, then I took a look outside, and in the flats lobby, but I’ve no idea what it was or where it came from, other than somewhere above. Ah, the mysterious wonders of Woodthorpe Court: The ghosts, hobgoblins, boll-weevils, aliens, gremlins, grotesqueries, urchins, karakia-cursing entities, hallucinations. Materialisations, poltergeist, lemures, wairuas, kehuas, manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan mission; ‘To destroy the sanity, confuse, and scare the hell out of Inchcock,’ was back attacking again! I hope it wasn’t noisy-Herbert trying to get help. Certainly not fireworks this time.

Feeling a little like Stan Laurel, I blinked, and made my way aimlessly to the kitchen, blurry-eyed, and annoyed that I could not find anything out about the midnight-tapping.

And got on with the Health Checks. The stick thermometer gave another decent reading of 34.8°c for me.

Then I got the sphygmomanometer from the medical cupboard and utilised it. Oh, dearie me, the flipping SYS was up again! Will it ever come withing range again! So, there’s no ♫ Home, home on the range ♫ for me then? Hahaha!

By gum, it’s not-half nippy this morning!

I got mini-potatoes, that seemed a little large for mini-potatoes to me, in the crock-pot, and added some of the Squid brand vinegar to marinate for a while.

Got the computer going, and got ready to update the Inchcock Today diary.

But, could I find where my reading glasses were? No! I even got down (foolishly) on my knees to have a look underneath the cabinet, in case they’d fallen off.

Getting back up was a challenge, but I managed it with only Back-Pain-Brenda giving me any bother, mind you, it hurt!

After a search around in silly places, I decided I’d have to wear the old ones and cope as best I could. I can have an in-depth forage around for the misplaced new spectacles later on. As I settled again, there they were, to my right, two-and-a-half feet away from me, there they were! I did feel like a right fool, idiot, pillock, dumbo, plonker, wassock and putz! But these are frequent emotions of mine nowadays. One gets partially-used to the stupidity and memory-loss.

Herbert accompanied me with his frequent drumming noises, as I pressed on with sorting out the photo’s to use. And a few hours later, I got the Thursday blog finalised. What a slog that was, Humph! I emailed the links, went on the WordPress Reader, Pinterested some snaps, made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, then went on a mammoth Facebook updating session.

Made up a template, then made the Sainsburys order for next week, Wednesday 30th Sept, twixt 7-8 a.m. Put it on the Google calendar. And tended to the ablutionalisationing.

–: Not such a good session this time, I’m afraid. Toothache Trevor kicked off. 3 dropsies.

Then a few nicks shaving, many dropsies, the foam can twice, and I lost count of the razor’s dropsies. I was on the verge of giving up and trying later! Gragnangles! But I stuck at it.

Next, the showering was a bothersome and painful affair. The showerhead went down, clouting Arthur Itis’s left knee en route to the floor! I had two bangs into the grab rail, hip and head when I went to pick-up the thrice dropped carbolic soap! As I came out of the shower I did a double – I walked into the sock-glide, and stubbed my toe against the metal shower-chair at the same time! This session certainly made up for the previous two easy-going ones!

On a brighter note, the legs I thought were looking a lot better today.

But I wasn’t bothered, it didn’t hurt much, I didn’t start using naughty language, or feeling sorry for myself, oh, no. Ahem!

After the sock-glide incident, things calmed down. Dizzy Dennis departed, and I got on with the towelling down and medicalisationing. Which both went marvellously? Not knocking anything over or walking into anything, the furuncle was dying off I think, cause it gave no pain at all! Harolds Haemorrhoids were not too fierce at all! Yee-Ha!

I got the computer closed down, to give it time to cool down. And got a load of waste-bags made up. I’m not taking the recycling bag, although it is nearly full, cause I don’t want top miss window cleaner Pete, calling. I got a bag for dropping off at Jenny and Franks on the three-wheeler, ready to go to the chute. I had a check around before leaving, to monitor the state of the taps (faucets), heaters, stove, lights, doors, sink plugs etcetera.

Out to the rubbish room with the bags, and got them down the chute, I had a bit of bother doing this, because Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters had started failing again, so I had to take care; that iron chute-lid can be lethal!

I got to the lift lobby and was soon down on Jenny’s floor. Dropped the bag near the door of their flat, and as I came out, Frank appeared at the door. He was looking in rude health bless him. I wished him a happy Christmas from a distance, he returned the best wishes and laughed. I love it when folks laugh spontaneously.

Getting the elevator back up to the twelfth floor, was a nightmare. It must have taken me half-an-hour! (At least it felt like it!) The contractor lift arrived, which we are not allowed to use, a chap in it said something to me, but I didn’t catch what he was saying, but he seemed in a good mood.

The Residents lift arrived and had two people in it, they were not wearing masks, so I declined their offer of getting in with them.

The cage went down to the ground floor, then started coming up, it went by the ninth floor I was at, and came down again, with a chap in it, he had no mask on wither, I politely declined his offer, telling him I was after going up, not down.

The lift went down to the 4th floor and stayed there for yonks. Eventually moving down to the ground floor, then up the top floor, and started coming down, and was on the 13th floor for ages. I expected people to be in it and got ready to explain I was going up when the cage stopped, but there was no one in it?

It came back up, (I needed another shave by then, Hahaha!) and it was empty, I got in and back up to my level.

As I got out, the need of a wee-wee, made me hasten a little and going through the flat’s foyer door, I clouted my right shoulder on the frame. When I got in the apartment, a Nottingham City Homes Newsletter had been delivered. I didn’t know what it was, but it looked official to me, and I feared it might be the appointment for either the bladder or bowel scan. I didn’t read it yet, I hadn’t got the time to.

I got the kettle on, well, I had the wee-wee first, of course, to make room for the brew. Haha!

I rebooted the computer, and a Your Area Newsletter had arrived.

So, I had a look at the latest Coronavirus figures for Nottingham. It was a smidge confusing for me. As you might know, I have trouble with number calculations, this started after I’d had the stroke.

Arithmophobia it’s called. Or is it Dyscalculia? Or both? I’ll look it up on Google.

My problem must be Dyscalculia. I found this article. Czechoslovakian researcher Ladislav Kosc defined the disorder as, A structural disorder of mathematical abilities” caused by impairment to the parts of the brain used in mathematical calculations. With the stroke, it makes sense, to me. But I waffle again, sorry!

Then, I found later that it must be correctly stated as ‘Acquired Dyscalculia’: It read; Usually acquired as the result of a stroke or injury. Another ailment that will need naming, and I can use to sound more intelligent than wot I am really. Har-har!

On the ‘Your Nottingham’ emailed report, it gave this statement and updated figures for the Coronava statistics in Nottingham. Neither of the publications gives a very bright, or encouraging viewpoint, do they? Anti-Gloom tablets needed? Hehehe!

It’s 14:40hrs now. No signs of Pete, the window cleaner, and its getting towards my nosh and head-down time. I’ve been up for 14 hours or so, now. Thanks to being woken up at midnight. Just thought I’d mention it again!

I rang Frank and Jenny, Frank was there, but Pete did them and left them hours ago. So I don’t know whether to make the nosh and get my head down or not? Will he be calling? Did my getting stuck waiting for a lift cause me to miss him? Oh, shit!

I took some photos of the beautiful late afternoon clouds. Very nice they looked too, but I didn’t really appreciate it, with not knowing what’s going on with the windows, and dare not go to bed, in case Pete arrived.

I rang Jenny again, in the hope that she knew something about the window cleaner’s situation. But, no answer.

Feeling a bit down now! Going to try and get a graphic done… Hello, the landline ringeth and flashes! It was from Jenny. She’s found out what had happened, for me. Apparently, Pete went up to the 13th floor by mistake. And someone told him they didn’t want the windows doing! Claptickleisation! I’m a lucky bugger!

Thank heavens for Jenny! ♥

So, I got on with making the meal.

The Jenny supplied yellow tomatoes, and onions tasted. The Irish potato farls were too.

I got the pots washed, took a wee-wee, got washed and imbibed the evening medications. Then, down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, tatterdemalion, heavy yet tottery, rickety recliner.

It wasn’t long, before my frustrated brain, and incapacitated, over-stomached, wobbly-bellied body, was safe in the hands of Sweet Morpheous. Better late than never! Bliss!

Inchcock Today – Thursday 23rd June 2020: A good job I don’t suffer from atychiphobia!

24/07/2020 / Inchie / 3 Comments

TFZers at the Ball?

Thursday 23rd June 2020

French: Jeudi 23 Juin 2020

03:20hrs: On stirring back into ersatz-life, the urgent need for a wee-wee, forced me out of the c1968 recliner, up onto my pins, lunged for the walking stick, and to try to avoid any urge incontinence, as quickly as I could manage it, hobbled over to the EOGPB (Emergency-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket). The mode of wee-wee had changed back to an OSUAD (Orangey-Sprinkly-Unpainful-After-Dribble) type for once. Which was welcome. The PMAD (Post-Micturition After-Dribble), was less.

I went to put the kettle on and tried taking decent snaps of the dark morning view.

Then the call to the Porcelain Throne arrived with the usual stagging tummy pains. This time it was followed this some nervous-making escapages of wind. So, another nippy-limp was required, to the wet room. This photo of my arm is a mystery to me! I found it on the SD later. Why I took it, or if it was another mistaken-taken one, well? It on the SD card, between the morning sky shot and the hemadynamometer picture, so I must have taken it in the kitchenette?

The Throne Session went better than it has done for weeks. Painful, yes, but they always are since the stroke. Not too pungent or pervasive, only specs of blood, and it was all over so quickly. Yee-Ha! I washed my dandies and contact areas and back to the kitchen.

I made a mug of Extra Strong Assam tea and left it to brew stronger. Then got the Health Checks done. Starting with the BP sphygmomanometer. All the readings looked good!

The new thermometer would not work, I changed the batteries, and this made no difference whatsoever. Kroinkles! I used the old stick one that just showed as ‘Low’. I’m not sure it’s ever showed anything else since I bought it. Hehehe!

I also found this photo on the SD later. Why I took it, or if it was another mistaken-taken one, well?

It was taken before the BP one? Ah, the mysterious wonders of Woodthorpe Court: The energumen Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing-entities, Fire alarms I cannot hear, hallucinations. Materialisations, poltergeist, lemures, wairuas, kehuas, manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan, ‘Let’s annoy and scare the hell out of Inchcock mission?

I was worried a bit, in case I’d been having memory-blanks again. The way my mind is this morning, it’s a good job I’m writing everything down, recording notes to use on here.

For some reason, this brought thoughts of St Anns Health Centre visit for the podiatrist, next Monday. Specifically, when I came out of the Nursing Home after the Stroke, and couldn’t get my toenails cut then, a nurse phoned them at this place and booked me in. I had to get an early bus to get there.

I arrived with the walker, it took what seemed ages and a long way around the route to get into the place (See photo above). Steps I couldn’t climb didn’t help! Then, they refused to do my toenails, I had too many ‘issues’!

What chance do I stand now? I’ve been diagnosed with diabetes, axonotmesis neurotmesis neuropraxia. Also, the neurotransmitter nerves dying all down my right side. Saccades since my last failed visit? And am having troubles with the INR blood level! So what chances do I have of them cutting my nails this time? The Sherwood Health Centre, who usually do me, but cannot book me in until November 28th, with the queue of people in the same boat as I am, told Deana to try St Anns. My spirits sank at the thought.

Looking at the plates of meat, I felt even less confident. They look so anaemic and bloodless, and the toenails, surely they will see the agony they are causing me, and help me out with a little clipping? Mmm!

This may sound like an old, pathetic, sad, not-coping very well geezer’s desperate plea for help. That’s because it is! Gragnangles!

I made a brew of Thompsons Punjabi tea, the last one went cold. Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley made me spill the milk. Flagtoggles!

I took several photographs of the view outside, the lighting with the sun slowly coming up from behind, and some grey clouds, I thought, gave them a differentness? The last one was taken from the pod (balcony). The white spot on this one, is a reflection of the light bulb – I think?

When I got on the computer, it became glaringly evident that Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters were starting to play up again. Ever-correcting and making mistakes. So frustrating and time-consuming. But I got on with the job, finally, hours and three wee-wees later, I got it finished and posted it off to WordPress.

Off to make another brew, Glengettie Gold this time (one of my few pleasures in life – are you crying at my patheticness yet? Hahaha!)

I went on Amazon to do some bought product revues. The so-called lemon disinfectant, I gave Two Stars. The Hoisin sauce, I gave five (top).

It was late enough now, for to bother Jenny, and ring her for help with arranging the taxi for Monday. Stuttering Stephanie visited me, Tsk! Jenny said ‘No Problem’, and she would get back to me when sorted. Bless her!

I went to get a rinse, and minutes later, Jen rang back. She had made the pick-up for 08:45hrs, to be on the safe side for me get there in good time for the 09:10hrs appointment. Knowing of my lack of confidence in getting the toes cut at that place before, she reminded me to tell them that the Sherwood Health Centre informed Lap-top dancer and Warden Deana, to ring St Anns when they could not fit me in. Which I will do, thanks, Ma’m ♥.

I forgot to mention to Jenny that I had ordered some Self-Raising flour for her on Morrisons order for next Tuesday, and also forgot to ask her if she’d be kind enough to make a note for me like she did last time, in case Stuttering Stephanie kicks off when I’m in the taxi. So, I rang Jenny back, told her about the flour, and forgot all about asking about the note. Puggleclump-dimwit!

I went on the long-overdo Facebooking catch-up. Then on the WordPress Reader section.

But, necessitation, necessitated the need of new graphicalisationing needing to be done. Or the IAABW (Inchcock Alamalgated Association of Blog-Waffling) will come to an end! So, onto CorelDraw, to make some up. Hehe!

Getting the meal prepared, and with his usual perfect timing, my Xyrophobia suffering, over amour-propred Brother-in-law Pete, rang, to update me on his treatment process. He’s going back in the City Hospital on Monday for eight-hours of being micro-waved! It’s a big thing for the lad, but he sounded pretty-much ready for it. He may go home ‘Glowing!’, and aliens might try to contact him through the ether! Hehe! So this soon put me in my place, Monday, the same day as I’m going hopefully anyway, to get the toenails and feet treated, Pete’s going into the hospital to get fried, irradiated, and chat up the nurses for eight hours. Hahaha!

Best of luck, Pete, don’t fret, but I know you will. I remember when you fell asleep and fell off of the settee arm, and broke your neck! (The things you’ve done to get all of your sick-pay allowances! Hahaha!) Jane will be waiting, so you must get back safe, mate!

I got the nosh prepared and served up.

Two beefburgers, canned potatoes, tinned garden peas, tomatoes, two part-baked rolls. Apple and red grapes, followed by a fruit mousse.

I got the pots washed and had an attack from Dizzy Dennis while doing so! I am now back to one milk jug, the pretty tall one, bit-the-dust, as it hit the floor and shattered! Picking the mess up was not a pleasant task, pain-wise! Crigglebonkitis!

Got settled, and once again, Sweet Morpheus was unwilling to enfold me.

	T. W. Dittmer on Inchie: Thursday 24th Septembe…
	T. W. Dittmer on Inchie: Wednesday 23rd Sept 26…
	Timothy Price on Inchie: Wednesday 23rd Sept 26…

Sunday 29th November 2020

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TFZer Movie-Maker and Stars?

Monday 23rd November 2020

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Sunday 22nd November 2020

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Yee-Haa!

Friday 20th November 2020

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TFZers at the Cottage ♥

Tuesday 17th November 2020

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TFZer Chefs – Alcohol to hand! ♥

Thursday 5th November 2020

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TFZers ♫ Singing in the Rain ♫ Anglo-American Production

Wednesday 28th October 2020

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TFZer Keith: ♫ ‘Home, home on the range…’ ♫ Hehehe!

Sunday 25th October 2020

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TFZers Making a Film, perhaps? ♥

Friday 25th September 2020

Welsh: Dydd Gwener 25ain Medi 2020

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TFZers at the Ball?

Thursday 23rd June 2020

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