Advice/Tips

Saturday & Sunday Morning

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

Saturday Evening

I got back to the flat from the Covis-19 booster. With the delicious, kind, beautiful, highly-most desirable, tantalising, titillating, sex-pot, Gillian. Who still refuses to adopt me as a granddad. Tsk! Gillie put the things away in the kitchen, and I insisted she take some bottles of plonk and cans of spirits, in thanks, for her help.

Just look at thou that the gal had made for me…

She’s cooked six sausages for me. I can warm them in the microwave. I made some BBQ sliced potatoes and garden peas and added BBQ sauce. Gorgeous! Bless her cotton socks!

Getting off to sleep was a Challenge.

The Thought Storms raged a fair bit quixotically,
.Alto-Ego Inchie pestered me telepathically,
Terrible pains from Haemorrhoids Harold, posteriorly,
Wing, coughing all things somnambulistically…
Which came on after a marvellous Gillie day, sadly!
Of course, my angel had now gone away…
Still, no nodding off, and bled when I had a cough…

But it got worse when I moved to get comfortable,
When Little Inchie burst into a blood bubble!
Now, stopping that caused me pain and trouble…
The agony from medicating things was indescribable!
Later Sweet Morpheus arrived, highly satisfiable!

Sunday

I woke, with the Booster Jab Arm in agony, too!
Saccades Sandra and me dizzy, it’s nothing new…
I planned this weekend, what am I to do?
Tomorrow Sainsbury’s food delivery, only a few…
Co-op order Monday, I’ve ordered some beef stew…

I woke, with the Booster Jab Arm in agony, too!
Saccades Sandra and me dizzy, it’s nothing new…
I planned this weekend, what am I to do?
Tomorrow Sainsbury’s food delivery, only a few…
Co-op order Monday, I’ve ordered some beef stew…

I took some photos of the foggy morning

Just misty, there was no storming…

Hello, is it thickening?

Clearer, on Chestnut Way, down below,
I’ll try a wide shot or two; I’ll give it go…
Didn’t come out very good, though!.

No deliveries today…
Ah, onto Facebooking to play, okay?
Mustn’t forget Josie’s nosh, with the chardonnay…
I think it beats any takeaway…
Then my plans had to be cast away…
Sainsbury delivery came today. What can I say!
No deliveries today?

No deliveries today?

I ordered five little bananas, but I got ten…
I’m not sure if they’ll all get eaten,
Asked for 100ml, got a 400ml… It suits this glutton!
Ordered two 60 spuds, got two 500’s, dumbstricken!

Back to Facebooking, but I extemporise…
Facebook went down; I tell no lies…
My plans did once again evaporise…
My spirits sank; they did wantonise!
Then…
I realised the Amazon Co-op food had arrived!
I think I ought to be sectionalised…
I’m losing it seriously; I don’t want to sensationalise,
Maybe going in an old folks home might yet be wise?
Cause my brain is refusing to synchronise!.

Got the Amazon bags into the kitchenette,
Did you notice the Metal Mickey stick?
I know it was there; it’s picturistic…
This is really quite worrying, and dramatic,
I think the word is mayhap pedagogic?
But I haven’t seen Mickey since? It defies logic!
I fear I have become recognised as pilgarlic?
Then as had to hobble for a wee-wee, nucleonic!…

I walked into the wet room door frame,
Only myself to flipping blame…
Oh, boy, the agony and pain…
I hit the booster shot arm again!
My emotions and hopes became disharmonic…
The uncomfortable pee made me feel apathetic,
When I got back into the kitchen, I couldn’t find the stick!

I got the Co-op crap put away, then…
My stupidity; it must remain unspoken…
More nosh in the fridge, crammed in and swollen,
The freezer’s the same; I feel crestfallen…
Getting dates and figures wrong, stupidity is my song…
In life, I just can’t seem to get along?

And now the pain from Booster arm,
It’d possibly be as bad as napalm. Not really,
I’m shaking more than ever, I must keep calm,
But in constant pain from the flipping arm…
It’s swollen too, and I’ve had moments of dwalm!
Still, I mustn’t set off the wristlet panic alarm!

Gotten Himmel, Josie’s  Meal to Do!

Gotten Himmel, Josie’s meal to do…
Fingers crossed, I’m making a sort of chilli stew,
With chestnuts, mushrooms, beans and leeks too!
Getting it made was a bit of a hullabaloo…
Cut the end off of my finger. It’s what knives do!
Looking decent, to her door, I took it to…

I made an extra meal for her on Monday,
Oh, I added some chips into it; I hope its okay,
Sweeties, Limoncello, Vodka… Hey Hoe!

Blogging Again

Got on with the blogging again,
Despite the terrible pain…
The slightest movement of the arm…
Only not moving it at all, was it calm…
I got a feeling of sheer self-disdain!

Unbelievably – Door Chime Again!

The door chime rang out once again, so…
I ventured up the hallway, it was the postman, Johnno,
Bills, forms to fill in, upwards the rent must go?
Marvellous news this time, at last something nice did flow,

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

A parcel from HRH Lisa and Billum, in the Americas. Something that Lisa has sent me for Christmas. Bless her, she is so caring and sweet! Tempted as I was, I did not open it… yet! I will enjoy doing that when I have my Christmas morning pork pie and open the cards.

HRH Lisa, Billum & Inchcock

Bless you, HRH Lisa. You’ve given me something to look forward to, on Christmas Day now, my petal. ♥♥♥

The arm is still swollen, and I am disgusted with myself for making the Whoopsiedangleplops over the delivery dates of the food.

I’ll get better, I hope. Hehehe!

TTFNski all and each!

Inchcocks Wednesday of Whoopsiedangleploppery

/ Inchie / 3 Comments

I’ll start at the beginning, (Sounds logical to me? – Hehe!) Perhaps I might learn to spell as well… tomorrow…Tsk!

I woke around 03:00hrs and rose gingerly to my feet,
But the knees and legs bothered me most, mate…
Just look at ’em on the left here… What a state!
Still had Arthur Itis giving pain and the flat feet…
Without pains, a life I would think would be incomplete?

The regular fluid retention that usually sinks into the feet seemed now stuck in the top of the legs. My patellas are all knobbly?  But I’m not complaining (then anyway).

I began to think through the needs and actions of the potentially hectic mornings requirement. Which, as I noted, were:

  • Get the ablutions done early, like straight away…
  • Make sure I do not use the shower as early as this in the morning, so I’ll have a stand-up session at the sink.
  • Get the teeth done first.
  • De-coke the nasals.
  • Saccades eye drops in. (Try to get some of the medication into the eye this time!)
  • Before shaving, don’t forget to say your little prayer to the Peripheral Neuropathy God. And make sure the aftershave is handy to stop any bleeding.
  • Do take care medicationalisationing. I can tell already that Little Inchies final lesion has been bleeding cause as soon as I moved, the dried blood cracked as the P.P.’s were adjusted… So be prepared for agony, and brave it out, mate!
  • Now cometh something that will be as much hassle and pain as anything…
  • Yes, the sock-glide has to be used for the first time in months! Sorry, but it’s just too cold to go out to the Dentist, barefooted in my shoes this time!
  • I wish you all the best of luck with carrying out this fearful, scare-making task! But, it’s got to be done!
  • Things went relatively well as it happened.
  • As expected. The worst by far was the tender application of the dreaded, feared, always tear bringing…
  • Tender in the extreme and extra painful cause one has to get to things in the first place… 😢
  • The Sock-Glide won the ‘Most Hated’, The Most Feared’ awards. But the fungal lesioning retained its status as ‘King of the Excruciating Medicalisationings!’
  • I was so glad that I got these done and out of the way early on… I even Smug-Moded about it for a while!

I made my first brew of tea, finished off yesterday’s blog, and got it posted off. The Carer came nice and early, so that was nice… her seeing the photo of my legs on the computer screen was a bit harrowing for the gal, though. Hahaha! Me too!

I thanked the girl and offered some nibbles or drinkies in thanks, but she wouldn’t have any. I fang-you! Off she went taking my waste bags to the chute with her.

The computer turned off, and I got down to getting things ready in earnest. Let’s have a think now…

Bus pass to get back home with, yes! Camera, check. Cash card… okay. Keys, Alert bands, Warfarin I.D., yes… Somethings missing, methinks? Aha, shopping list and cash card, Gorrit!  By the time I was all ready to go, it was about 08:15hrs as I set out. I got into the lift and down to the ground floor…

Then went back up to the 12th-floor and the flat and got a face mask adorned. Nearly made another cock-up there!

THE JOURNEY…

Down and outside, over the road, Accifauxpas, nought!
I turned around, to the view of Winwood Court,
I took a photo of it… well, I thought I aught!
But the gravel hill up into the park made me fraught…

Made it up the hill in one go – but I was heavily breathing,
A dog came from nowhere, barking at me; I was seething!
Nearly ended up mucking my underclothing!
The dog owner arrived, she was chunky, fortysomething…
I fell in love again… the mouth was frothing…

I limped my way through the twitchel no one was about,
I was a little nervy, so I still kept a lookout,
Had a look around as I came out…
That twitchel has an ominous aura, there’s no doubt!.

Down the hill, as far as Elmswood Gardens, then right…
And alongst it. I plodded towards the traffic light…
Mansfield Road road, the spending did start!

Too early for the Dentist, I called into the Wilko store,
Laundry booster, Zoflora and Trots tablets… Yes, some more!
The tablets were easy to get, four feet from the floor…
The booster too high, out of reach, to my displeasure!
I ask a lady for help, at her leisure…
The Zoflora, bottom shelf, I ended up on the floor!
But the ladies laughed and helped me up some more!

Out just in time to get to the Dentist,
They treated me well, although they were pressed…
A new gal training on the reception desk…
I was soon fetched to see the Dentist Oola Bogusz,
As she leant over me, I could sense her firm left bust…
She smiled at me a lot, was I going mad or what?
She and the nurse actually joked with me???
Toothpaste prescription, Something amiss here, just you see!
In no time, I was treated and set free!

I had a funny turn while paying my dues…
Well, I had it when I first joined the queues
These were also patient with me… another ruse?
I have to work this out at home, have a muse…
Why the change? They all usually have a short fuse!

Not many folks about? Most of them had not got facemasks on. Even in the Dentist and Wilko. What’s the matter with them?

Down to the Co-op, to get some cans of their delightful own brand chilli-con-carne… why the tastebuds were salivating at the thought of getting some more cans… But No! The assistant asked the manager for me, and I found that they had stopped stocking this product, Grrr! Gnatwrangles! Damn them! Curses! Flibblegonkackles! Gits! Slobs! Flibblegonkackles! May they go bankrupt! And may whoever it was who decided to stop stocking my beloved cans of Chilli; Get festering, fungal-lesions bursting out slowly all over their body, for at least a full year, before they finally rot away; in absolute agony!  Not that it overly bothers me, mind!

Then up to the top of the road to Lloyds Chemist,
Oh, Pharmacy nowadays, sorry, how remiss!
I got the prescription toothpaste from Alice,
Leaving, I trapped my finger in the door…
My Saccades vision is now feeble & poor…
And the left index finger is bloody sore!

Humph!

I got to the bus stop and met Esther, we had a natter, as she was on her way to the flats to do someones cleaning. Nice to see her. We walked through the link passages together – they can’t touch me for that! Hahaha! (Can they?)

Home Sweet Home!

Well, things didn’t go too bad, well, maybe… erm… either way, I did enjoy the getting out of the flat bit. Although it cost me a lot of dosh, a little blood, frustration and had moments of utter confusion… that’s life, you see… Well, it is for me!

My Route Taken

Yellow on foot – Purple on the bus.

I unloaded the bits of stuff purchased. Of course, there would have been more; had the lousy, stinking, crap-ridden, overcharging, dog-breath,  Klunglefrazzled Co-op had some their ‘Honest Value’ Chili-Con Carnie to sell me. But never mind. Shit!

I soon settled into a routine that matched the rest of the day,
Drinking spring water, tea and a pee; what a thirst I’d got on me,
I may not have been contented, but not depressed, exactly,
I started the mammoth task of doing this blog artistically!
In between blogging, I even had two callers, socially!
A lovely carer to drop off a Christmas card, nice & early.

Even got a phone call from the Doctors surgery,
Wanting to arrange a booster shot for me…
I explained I’m having it done at the chemist this Saturday,
Adding, I’ll see you tomorrow anyway…
Why is that? she did say, ‘For medical, the yearly…’
No, you’re not booked in, evidently?
I’ll check, hang on, she said wearily…
I’ve got it on my calendar, my dearie?
Have I got it wrong again? Am I illusory?
Nothing on our records, she added hastily…
Oh, a free day for me then, that’s satisfactory…
Maybe I can have a hassle-free day?
Yes, well, I’ll see, you may be hearing again from me?

The feet, after not wearing socks for months, continuous…
Felt okay, but the legs were feeling somewhat lethiferous,
So, I wound up the trouser legs, oh, the fuss…

What a change to earlier ones, more flush,
Still swollen, at the top, but fatter lower down?
Will the fluid flow with a gush?
Will things spurt in a rush?
Will the legs turn to a sodden mush?
Will the world, these limbs discuss?
Will the cause be revealed, as dracunculus?

Look what I found in the middle of the kitchen floor!
A rock hard escapee garden pea, what is more…
The miracle is, how I hadn’t noticed it before?
Has my eyesight, really got that poor?
Am I going potty? I’m not sure…

Camera Out – Balcony Utilised!

To take some snaps of the wonderful view.
The amazing sky, shown in the first two…

In a couple of shots of Chestnut walk, you won’t see any queue,
The place is sparse of people. what can I do?
Are they all inside, eating sausages, fish or making a fondue?
Mayhap some are trying on their Christmas tutu?
Or on holiday in Bulwell, Cardiff or Timbuktu?
Perhaps absent, gone off on a romantic rendezvous?
It’s possible a few could be feeling sozzled or blue?
Out buying food, but the panic buyers are in the queue?
Or in town, with their free bus passes to renew?
I’d speculate more; if only I knew…
Where they have all gone, what are they up to?
Ah, gorrit! Christmas! They’ll be making their homebrew!

Well, I’d better get some food – salad or a stew?
No, vegetarian sausages and root potatoes… that’ll do,
I’ll take a photo of it later, just for you to have a peekaboo!

Worra Nosh!

Vegetarian! Royal grown potatoes, root vegetable mash, tomatoes, Nigerian podded peas, Veggie sausages, cheese and bean pastie, with orange jelly and spray cream for dessert!

Taste Rating: 7.9/10 – Delicious!

Part of ‘The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe In Rhyme’

To all my thousands of fans throughout the world, I wish you all good fortune, fun, festivities, euphoria and future financial prosperity! (To both of you!)

TTFN!

Grasping The Essentials…

/ Inchie / 11 Comments

Tips & Advice for Whippersnappers

Waking Actions Advice

In the morning, confusing thought storms swirl about…
Ignore them, cause you’ll never understand, no doubt,
They should stop by evening when you are well tired out…
Working out what day it is, who you are, what life’s about…
Is a waste of time nowadays; you’ll only freak out!

Mental Status

The brain will often go off of its own accord, for self-rumination,
Planning on how to save the corruption of this Nation,
You’ll ignore this, mainly cause you’ve already got depression.
Your ailments hassle you, with many a repercussion,
You might like to arrange a funeral gumphion?

Memory Analysis

You’ll be pleased you can remember when a film was premiered,
But it’ll be one of Will Hays, and that gets you flustered!
But you think all of his films were absolute mustard!
Sometimes you think your memory is alright, to be trusted…
In reality, at best, it’ll be patchy, fractured, and fragmented,
All a part of losing one’s sanity and getting demented!

Doctors Dentist Opticians

You will find yourself wanting the Doctor consulted…
But you won’t get through on the phone, that is accepted,
Coronavirus and that, appointment-making becomes protracted,
Try emailing by all means; indeed, with this, I experimented…
Gmail bounced back the Email, now I’m wherrited!

The Dentist

Appointment coming, I get Emails to be prompted,
Threats of what I’ll be charged if I miss it or if delayed…
Nearly £200 minimum, Gawd, I am amazed!
In their chair, I’d ha dome painful days!
They are not even good dentists… I’m schnockered!

The opticians…

I genuinely fear, attending again,
The lady last time, I warned of my shakes…
Then shook and knocked over all of the lens templates!
She threw me a stare of utter disdain!
Now she thinks I shouldn’t be in the food chain!
I genuinely fear attending again!

Life

Although I may sound depressed and mean-spirited,
In actual fact, I do not feel the slightest bit morbid…
Despite the brain and memory have mutineered…
It’s not as bad as I initially feared…
Cause everything else in life has gone crazy and weird!

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Inchcock’s Tips & Advice for Whippersnappers Series

Alto-Ego Inchie Comment:

Any causes for concern about Inchcock’s state of mind and bodily condition need not be mentioned. The dumbo is aware; he’s just incapable of doing owt about it!

November 2021: Local News Snippets

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

Comments from the Nottingham Proletariats, Photographs, bad grammar and punctuation, and other sundry rubbish!

Starting with the serious stuff. I’ve placed a picture, with the report of the Doctor who is responsible for so many deaths. Hopefully, if anyone is going in for surgery, and recognize the Doctor, can refuse to be treated by him.

Mr X, Nottingham resident (84), suggested that the return of hanging would be more of a deterrent.

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Mr X, Nottingham resident (84), quoted; Most likely a drugs gang killing. See the watch the youth has on? And the tattoos, are they a gang thing or what? Bring back hanging, and they won’t do it again, now will they?

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Mrs Y (82), a sweet-natured local resident, is all for starting a Nottingham Mafia, to control the crime waves that the non-existent police force can’t cope with. Adding; It’s the judges and the legal system I blame as much as the crude scum we’ve let into the country. A well-armed Nottingham Mafia can keep an eye on the rare odd police officer when they see them, and noble the offenders on the spot. Scumbags!

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Wilberforce Hutherswaite (73), a local resident, commented on the rising prices that are getting out of hand. It’s the bloody Tories again! They are the buggers that own or have shares in the rob-dogging, European owned greedy companies, purrin’ the prices up agen! It’s the Chinese who started off the Coronavirus, but yer cun rest assured that the other crooked politicians and shareholders have played a part in it… all designed to put prices and profit up! I towed ’em thurrit’d happen! Farsounds of illegals to feed too!

Still, yer doesn’t like to complain does yer. ‘ave yer gorrany weed on yer to spare, Inchcock?

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Wilhelmina Thunderthighs (77), a retired RMN nurse from Huddersfield originally, a Nottingham Resident since she got out of prison in 1975, offered her views on the Coronavirus situation, with figures spiking again:  “I blame the anti-masker shitheads. Likely unemployed benefit-claiming morons. You know, those with several different fathered ankle-snappers, and on their fifth live-in partner! One living rent-free in Sherwood, I read it in the Evening Post, so it has to be true… claiming child benefit of £690 a week, get their electricity and gas paid for. They’ve just had their Universal Credit reduced to £650 a week, so they will not be happy… But will they wear a facemask? No! Erm… what was the question?

The new Coronavirus variant found in Nottingham is of concern.

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Comment from Ecclisiastclese Edwards (67). That’s the fourth fire this year on the industrial park in Lenton. Obviously, brought Abarght by the illegal immigrants they employ. I don’t blame the incomers, who can blame ’em for gerrin’ away from Lithuania, Poland etc., not me! If any other country would house and feed me if I got away, I’d take it too! Them who are escaping wars who I feel sorry for. Cause, there are bound to be some murderers, paedophiles and terrorists among ’em, that’s to be expected. I reckon some arsonists have sneaked and got underpaid jobs ‘ere?

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Comment from Blanche Bloomerworthy (78), an ex Prison Warden, living in Sherwood, Nottingham. I’ve been watching this happen every day for months. It dawned on this morning, can you eat these ducks? They could be a solution to the food shortages?

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Not a made-up name! All true!

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Unfortunately, Inchcock got his walker-guide wheels stuck in the snow this morning. Over he went, landing in a blubbery mass of flesh onto the wet grass and gravel. He’d like to thank the youth passing by for not stopping to help, and calling  Inchy a f___cking old idiot, as he carried on his way on his Escooter!

I’m losing faith in humanity!

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Part of the ‘Inchcock’s Local News Series’

Tips & Advice – Part 5¾ – In Bad Ode

/ Inchie / 16 Comments

Related In Chronically Bad Ode

Today’s Tips & Advice topics for Whippersnappers are drawn from the long list of Whoopsiedangleplops and Accifauxpas suffered by Inchcock over the many depressing, failed years. In the hopes that the Whippersnappers will be better prepared for the coming of old age, senility, loneliness and thus: Thus at least giving them a chance to get things right. They can welcome death when it arrives and will make their passing a sweeter thing, as they gladly escape the moralless, debauched, cruel world. My pleasure!

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When I learned what Mother said when I was born,
To the midwife, was ‘I don’t want it, throw it in the Trent’!
I showed no bitterness, no scorn…
Although it was a bit of a rent…
I just carried on, not forlorn?
Although young, you must try to find out what she meant!

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The Mysterious Auntie Kerry

When a previously unheard off Auntie Kerry,
She was attentive, a massager and maternalistic,
Came to bath me, she smelt of sherry,
She spoke proper English, seemed aristocratic,
She was gentle with me, bar the occasional battery…
Bath time with her was a pleasure, never dramatic,
But this always left me contented and merry…
I think when she’d leave, I’d turned lovesick?
Aunt Kelly was touchy-touchy and charismatic,
I was heartbroken when she stopped coming, oh, very!

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Never approach a horse from behind,
When it’s wearing blinkers…
Cause you may well find…
You could get a kick in the knackers!

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Please wear a face mask still,
When out and about in buses and shops,
Help stop others from getting ill,
It would be appreciated if you will!

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Or not?

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For the sake of clarity, rhyming will be suspended for this, most important of Advice & Tips, on the aged and disabled old codgers dangers and problems with the Porcelain Throne activities; That the Whippersnappers may not yet be aware of, that are on their way.

Getting To The Throne On Time:

Important: Any early warning signs of evacuations being needed mustn’t be ignored. Never, and I mean Never, delay your journey to the toilet!
Fair enough, I do seem to get wildly varying modes of evacuations – rock-solid half-hour minimum ones and squirty, almost liquid efforts. Be prepared for either!
The days of “I’ll just finish this then get off to the bog” will end on your first Accifauxpas en route! Believe me, this will come!

Consistently distribute your walking sticks – I have one in the hallway near the flat door, the kitchen, front room, and main room. This will be priceless when needed – and they will be! I also have picker-uppers in the kitchen, main room and wet room.

Also, the availability of disinfectants is advised; I have Dettol and Zoflora Lemon in all three rooms, along with fresh air spray. Because you will never know when an escapage of blood, poo-poo or urine will occur. These events will cause self-embarrassment, frustration and cost you so much pain and time to clean up and medicate; each time, you will get little else done that day! So, another essentiality is a good supply of protection pants at all times.

Below is my current stock of PPs in the wet room. The Tena ones are a little bulky and are bound to show through the trousers when I go out without a long jumper on. Embarrassment Scale ‘A’.

However, I have found some PPs named Depend, bought them from Amazon. They are a lot cheaper than the Tena. At first, I was not impressed; they are less bulky, thinner than the expensive ones. I believed that they would not cope with a decent leakage. I thought that Blood from Little Inchies fungal lesion, a urine blast, or heaven forbid, a solid evacuation from the rear, would not be containable. Good news. Well, not that I had the urine and bleeding leak from Little Inchie in itself, but how well the Dependable pants coped with it all. I was well-pleased with ’em!

Just another warning about crap products in the Protection Pants department; Avoid Morrisons Comfort Pants at all costs! Firstly they are not comfortable in the slightest! And are not fit for purpose. I had a minor leakage of blood from the fungal lesion a month ago, when I was wearing a pair of these pants, ended up with blood on my legs and knees, and had to scrap the trousers!

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A Final Tip!

When in hospital after having a stroke (which the NHS assures us will happen to 3.3 out of every 5 people in the UK), and you get a leg ulcer to come up on your ankle – don’t fret!

Mine is already beginning to ease and after only three years.

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Part of the Inchcock Make ‘Em Laugh, – In Ode Series

Inchcock’s Tips & Advice – Part 3

/ Inchie / 2 Comments

Ordering Food From Sainsbury’s

A risky business if you forget to tick the No-Substitute button on each item ordered. Their best foul-up was substituting a Milk Roll loaf of bread with pikelets. Their worst, and mostly unrelated to the thing ordered, was when I ordered a bottle of disinfectant, and they issued me with a pot of brown shoe polish! The most hilariously opposite was when I ordered Marmite Biscuits, and they sent a box of iced lollies? But with supposedly suitable substitutes from Sainsbury’s record, it’s better to have nothing than something you cannot use or do not like or want!

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Questionnaires Letters Official Bumph!

Ah, there will be much of this. All of differing nature, from accusative, mock-caring related, but mainly of a financial nature. Then the circulars, cunningly disguised to look like officialdom paperwork to confuse and con. Plus, of course, notifications of increases in rent, carers fees, reduction in bank interest, medical appointment, debt chasers, and the odd birthday card.

Nottingham City Council Fairer Charging Team, Nottingham Revenues and Benefits Team. Financial Assessment for Social Care Services

Since Coronavirus, thus anticipated to continue forever, are the telephone interviews and questionnaires. Last week, I got a call telling me they would ring me later in the week to fill in a detailed form from the… I love the length of this title… The Nottingham City Council Fairer Charging Team, Nottingham Revenues and Benefits Team. Financial Assessment for Social Care Services. The chap had a clear voice on the phone, so I caught most of what he said. He would ring on Wednesday at a specific time, and we might be on the phone for a while as the questionnaire was several A4 pages long.

Come Wednesday, a different man rang as promised. We started the Q & A’s. Talk about detailed: we were on the phone for over two and a half hours! Mind you, I did have to stop twice, for a wee-wee. (You’ll find this a problem in your dotage!)  Bank details taken? All my ailments were requested, with the effects they cause me, in particular. There are so many, I must have missed some off. I wondered at one time if I should have mentioned the pustules and boils on my bum, but I didn’t bother.

After so long using the phone, Colin Cramps came on in the left hand and fingers. I had to swap to use the right hand, which has Peripheral Neuropathy and is affected by the Stroke. This gave me more pain and hassle, I dropped the phone and got the shakes, and the right knee got a sudden jerk as Peripheral Pete started jerking and jumping, which I thought had broken my patella! All the time, considering what the interviewer must be thinking is going on! I had to stop again. to take a painkiller.

Finally, all done, I was a physical and mental wreck!

Something you whippersnappers might keep in mind for your future mind’s delving into senility. Not an easy thought, I know.

I’ve not heard any reply yet.

DWP Department of Work and Pensions, Disability and Carers Services Charging Team

  • We may write to your doctor or someone else who can tell us how your disability arrests you.
  • We may arrange for a doctor to examine you
  • We may write to you asking for more information
  • We may arrange for someone from your local Social Security office to come and investigate you.

To me, this blast out a message: You fiddling lying old git! No chance! You can whistle for any financial help from us.

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Waking Up!

Firstly, according to how the Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas and Hassle-Stakes are going at the time, you will either be glad you have woken up again or wish you hadn’t!

Above is an indication of how you will feel as you slowly grasp, work out, or guess at what day and the time it is. The split in your reaction will be about 60/40 in favour of depression!

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Medicationalistalisationings

It seems that Vascula Dementia Doris (Who will undoubtedly visit many current Whippersnappers in their old age) had been causing me to get the taking of the medication all wrong. And I’d got into a bit of a mess with it. The Social Services supplied me with Carers, AM and PM, to sort and control my medicines. This has not been the success that I’d hoped it would be… Humph!

I’ve been having the carers call for about two months now. Last week was the fifth time that no one arrived. Not so bad during the week, cause I can get help to call them, and someone in charge will be on site. Which I’ve done four times now.

On one occasion, on a Saturday with no one in the Winwood Court Meridian office, I rang the number and got a central control room, wherever that is. The gentleman (I use the term loosely), answering, got annoyed at my not hearing what he said, and I was stuttering a little, which seemed to bother him somewhat. But someone did arrive shortly after and sorted the medications. But why did they not get in touch on any of the occasions to let me know? I was just told that someone failed to turn up?

Rather annoying, and this meant taking the tablets so much later. Which on one occasion was six hours late, by which time I was in severe pain with Duodenal Donald because the Omeprazole had not been taken! Also, every prescription package from the chemist has had a problem with it. Being late, no Codeines sent, the wrong Peptac… on and on it goes. If the charges go up, or when, I shall have to be vehement in my complaints cause nothing has changed.

Be aware of these problems, Whippersnappers!

Self-Administered Subcutaneous Injections

As you young-uns get older, there is a good chance of you having ticker problems. By-pass, Aorta Valve replacement, DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis etc. Of course, I have been blessed with them all.

Enox3a

In my case, subcutaneous injections are infrequently needed. Only when the INR level gets below 1.0, but it has to be kept in stock just in case, as it could be a lifesaver. Two injections, twice a day. Along with increased Warfarins for a few days, whatever is instructed to me by the Haematology, DVT Clinic at the Queen’s Hospital.

It helps a lot if your chemist supplies hypodermics with needles that are unbent. My chemist is very good at sending them to me (picture above). As well as wrong items on the prescription, missing them off altogether, and failing to deliver them. Who is it?

Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Road, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, near the launderette and pub, is near the ignorant staffed Lidl store. Telephone: 0115 960 5453. Be wary!

Subconjunctival haemorrhaging Eyes

These add colour and depth to your good looks!

Perhaps! Hehe!

Part of the Inchcock Advice & Tips Series

More To Follow folks

Ode To Maintaining Ones Sanity – Part Four

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Good Morningeth!

I hope this guide and advice to Sanity is anecdotic,
Making it humorous, truthful and not dogmatic…
I reckon that the secret and trick,
Throw in some limited, sporadic slapstick,
Trying to make it read what it is, authentic,
Allowing bits to stray off subject, get frenetic,
Getting it to rhyme can ruin the grammatics,
All a part of my unfortunate written gymnastics!

Getting hopeful of success is something you must never do!
Accepting failure, that is really the way forward for you,
You must never think that victory is possible, or due,
You’ll be disappointed and start feeling blue…
When Whoopsiedangleplops and Accifauxpas accrue,
Expect the worst at all times; hopes must discontinue!
Or depression will ensure your dreams are slue!

When disablements arrive, and the mind wanders off, too,
You’ll never again be capable of using a corkscrew!
Toileting involves bleeding, and will it or not pass?
Even multiple distress will affect you having a slash…
Accept it; good luck is not bound for you!
Accommodate failure from pain and hassle; there’s no rescue!
You’ll feel much better when you do!

I know doing as I suggest may seem uncanny, silly,
I tell you because I think it is my duty…
To pass on my failures and inform you see…
From old age and ailments, there’s no bouncebackability,
So I use the written word and my verbosity,
To help the ankle snappers later in life, from getting panicky…

It’s normal for aged proletariats to wear a toupee atop,
You girls may turn out to look like Hetty Wainthroppe?

Which suits me; she gets my remaining desires on the hop!
You’ll be less likely to manage a mutton chop,
But may get someone to nip down to the wineshop
Of course, your needs for fun don’t just stop…
However, reviving certain areas will be a dead flop!
Which may well bring forth the odd teardrop,
Sadly, you have to give up the old Bebop!
As did your Dad and Grandpop!
And, the Lads will have to give up being a fop!

One thing you’ll get better at is the bellyflop…as such,
Falling into bed, and with any luck…
No injuries, so you don’t look a schnook!
No loose bladder movements to blot your copybook?
To hope you sleep better, by hook or by crook…
Best to have Guinness or gin midduck!

To me, Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna, Reflux Roger are small fry!
Peripheral Neuropathy, on my right side, to undignify!
And Saccades in my right eye…
Often they may cause a tear and outcry…
Not often, though, only when they intensify…
While I’m trying to get some shuteye!
Press on we must, do or die…
That sounded dour? Writing that… but did I?
Slipped in by my Alto Ego? I’ll give him a black eye!

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A Bit Of Fun

I came across the name of a mountain.

Does anyone care to guess or tell me where it is in the world?

Of course, I knew straight away. No, I didn’t look it up on the web either… Okay, I did!

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Inchcocks Keeping Active Routine

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In Excruciatingly Bad Ode

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TIPS and ADVICE

It is essential, from your every waking moment, daily,
To assess the ailments, for any possibly acting bolshy,
That gets the brain going, fretting, and panicking too!
On the physical side; don’t expect things with spectacularity,
More concentrate, on dogged hopes and sustainability,
At all times, anticipate and expect, constant impeachability!

No doubt the wee-wees will start then, with tenacity,
Sometimes persistent, more usually of aperiodically,
The first slash you take will be with a certain trepidity!
They’ll be blood, orange urine, this’ll confirm your panic ability!
Apply the Daktacort Hydrocortisone, you’ll scream!
To ease the agony, just think of it, as being a dream!
And count slowly to yourself, up to a thousand and thirteen!

You’ll get letters, forms, threats and emails from authorities,
Along with phone calls, texts, these are not abnormalities,
How much pension and total cash are in your bank?
They raised the total allowed, in reply I was frank!
An hour a week for shopping, laundry, will cost me £280 a week!
It’s best at this time, not to freak!

Nottingham Revenue and Benefits called me on the phone…
The 2½hr form-filling left me in an ether world zone!
My concentration had departed, off it had flown…
I thanked him, with a verbal groan!

He said he’d sent the paperwork to sign & return,
Of course, no help was given, I soon did learn,
Result in today, on a downer now, scowled and had a gurn!
Excuse me, off to for a wee-wee, I must adjourn…

Ah, I’ve made beef stew for later, my hunger does grow…
Hello, it’s already made… Carer due, Doctors tomorrow,
I’m still angry with myself, there is a self-pitying sorrow,
Life at the moment, is annoying, no zest… hollow!
It’s me that is annoying me… that what I’ll have to forego…
The secret costs of the carers costs rise… Oh, blow!

At times like this, try not to get neurotic,
You’ll only get worse if you get all frenetic!
Change your mood to romantic or quixotic,
Think of happy times, when life was sybaritic!

Of course, I write mostly conceptualistic,
You might try changing your mood to eucharistic?
Or change to using heliotrope coloured lipstick?
Cause it won’t help, people’ll think you’re a dipstick!
But a different set of worries, even anti-humanistic…
Maybe enough to stop your brain from going ballistic?

There’ll be daily Whoopsies, Accifauxpas and many a quarrel,
Several times daily, to be insulted, and get a bombshell,
At times these may overpower your one brain cell…
Not to worry, you’ll have forgotten your previous natter,
Diagnosed last week, I’m aneurysmatic, but it doesn’t matter,
You’ll have enough ailments in the body, no hopes to shatter!

Your hero may be Hawking, Newton, mine is Albert Einstein,
Whichever, it matters not, for you must worry not,
Peoples choices whatever they are, are fine…
Cause you’ll only forget tomorrow, and feel a clot!

Usual things to get Arthur Itis, and become annuhilistic,
And your Willy will shrink, change its colour to pink,
You need do nothing about these, they are automatic,
Oh, and you’ll leave the hot water tap running in the sink!
Of the young, you’ll become an inpatient critic!
Your loss of memory will make you forget to think!
You’ll lose your egoisticness, no longer be artistic,
You’ll find yourself on depressions very brink…
I’m only trying to help – just giving you the wink!

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There are times when one realizes that one had not got it right, forgotten something, missed something, lost something…

This is Perfectly Normal – Don’t Fret!

Inchies Frictional, Unfrivolved, Fricking Friday!

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

Things started pretty well for me, oh, yah!

I got the Halloween hand-outs on display…

For carers, nurses, come who may,

Anyone visiting me from today…

Then got the potatoes, boiled with balsamic vinegar,

And a spot of Worcester sauce, & a pinch of demerara sugar,

They’ll do for later if I remember the bugger,

With the chilli, and put on some more sauce, tartar?

Titivated the kitchenette, dropped a jam jar!

An excellent job that it wasn’t the caviar!

The jar didn’t break, and it missed my feet…

Things were going well, all seemed alreet,

Off to the computer with a mug of tea, took a seat,

I even nibbled some biscuits, wholewheat!

The landline rangeth, the Amazon man, a right pain!

T’was then that my good luck, nosedived again!

We couldn’t understand what each other said,

So I went down to meet and talk to him instead,

His English was better than my Afghanistani,

But he left me, in the lurch, there was no barny…

He abandoned the food with me in the lift foyer, the Git!

I had to get the parcels into the lift, and I wasn’t fit…

Back up to the 12th-floor, struggled to get the bags out,

Then had to get them into the lobby,

Then into the flats lobby,

Then into the flat,

Then the hallway…

Then the kitchen, my energy drained away!

Next, the swearing started, I have to say!

The Git had put bleach in, it leaked, had to throw my bananas away!

The baguette buggered, utter dismay!

Tomatoes crushed, and I was feeling bushed!

Honey yogourts pot fell apart; I was further crushed!

Got the salvaged food sorted,

I was pissed off; I felt like I’d been ambushed!

The cooked ham was crumbs and crushed!!!

I was feeling despondent, to say the least!

Can’t see myself enjoying tonight’s feast!

Got the fodder all sorted… What was eatable anyway!

I was determined to get the treats out today for those who have helped me out over the year. Jenny, Norah and Frank, and Obergruppenfürher Deana and Obersturmbannfuhreress Julie, the ILCs (Indeependent Living Coordinators) at the flats. I rang them both to tell them I’d be coming down later to see if it was alright, as they may have been busy. Recorded messages on both phones that told me they must be busy. So I’ll get the goodies sorted out and go to Jenny then to the office with them.

As I was going out of the door, struggling a little with the walker-trolley, the postman came into the foyer. Oh, dearie me! This sounds like it may be a con-job?

An official-looking brown envelope, a white one, and then he handed me an ‘insufficient postage bill for nearly £11 for something that has been sent to me?

He kindly offered to ask his boss if he could pay for it for me, get the ‘parcel’, and I can refund him, and he’ll bring it in the morning. I was dubious, as I don’t think ~I am expecting anything through the post? Anyway, I thanked him and took him up on his generous offer for me, with a certain feeling of doom.

The white envelope was from Meridian, three A4 pages, about my Christmas needs for carers, Logging-in, Shadowing & Spot Checks, McMillan Charity Ball, On Call Centre procedure, and a Service-User Forum Wednesday 8th December at Foxton Gardens.

I didn’t over concentrate on owt, but the dodgy sounding parcel postage cost thingy. Then thought I’d try ringing the Wardens again, let them know I was coming down to see them and ask if they could have a look at the Social Services letter for me.

Finally, I got back to the walker-trolley of goodies, of off down to Jenny’s. On the way down, I thought to myself… well, I felt sorry for myself, really. Everything suddenly going into panic mode; surely things must calm down now… Hahahahahaha! Crap!

I called at Jenny’s flat, rang the bell and knocked on the door, and returned to the lift.

Down and into the connecting corridor with Winwood Court.

Called at the Wardens Interrogation and Body Search Room and dropped off the nibbles. Dean checked the Attendance forms for me, and I signed them. At last, something was going right – Hey-Ho! Little did I know what Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops still awaited me yet!

Then realised I had not put the prescriptions list in the envelope.

Back up and down in the lift again, and down to Deana.

Gawd, it did! I thanked Deana and hobbled out of the Winwood Court foyer, the first time I’ve been in the fresh air for months now, I think… But it proved to be a hazard ridden journey to the post-box to mail the letter… Just when I stupidly thought things were getting better again…

Unbeknownst to me, the wind was howling out there, and it whipped the envelope and paperwork out of my hand, high up in the sky, swirling around and then seemed to turn back in my direction, falling down in the car park twixt the vehicles. So, if it had blown off again, I would not have seen it again… Semi-panic mode engaged. I pursued the envelope and had to search a bit to find it. Still, the relief when I saw it trapped in between the branches of a bush was welcomed, even more so when I managed to get at it in time before it flew off into the clouds again!

I limped hastily as I could to the mailbox, checked the envelope, and posted it; thank heavens for that. Although, my EQ told me it would not have mattered, because as the voice said: “You ain’t going to get no financial help, any and either way, cocker!” Which was a smidge disheartening, bearing in mind EQ has never been wrong with his forecasts… no, I tell a lie, sorry. He was once, just the one time.

I hobbled back inside and just had to tell Deana what had happened. At least she got to laugh out loud before going home for the weekend, bless her. Hehe!

I set off along the link corridor and got to the connecting door.

Boy, did I feel a fool!

I could feel the key fob in my jacket pocket, but could I find a way in to get it? No! I assumed it had gone through the lining of one of the pouches. Back through link passage and to Deana, thinking she may have some scissors for me to use, to cut through the pocket.

Within a few seconds of investigating the jacket pocket for me, Deana put on a broad grin – that I believe actually said, “What a pillock!” As she pointed out that the sleeveless coat had two pockets on either side, one behind the other!

I blushed, felt the pillock above, thanked her, and scurried away in embarrassment and fast as I could… back, yet again along the corridor.

The hobble back into Woodthorpe was masked by the deep and genuine worry about what the hell am I doing? Since retirement, nothing going right, or even things going wrong, has been a part of my life, but I am not coping so well with things nowadays.

The trip up in the lift left little recollections of anything. I should have guessed that Dizzy Dennis and Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley were about to erupt; the hassle for such a long time nearly always ends in a tumble or similar – this time was no different, I’m afraid; Well, it was actually.

The haze came over me as I began to push the trolley through to the lobby from the cage. I gave myself such a bash on the right shoulder; it knocked me sideways, I clouted my back on the other side of the lift, and I went down, almost in slow motion!

My Luck Changed!

I had no idea who it was, but a bloke came out of the end flats and got me up on my feet again. See, I am fortunate sometimes. I think he knew me cause he guided me back to the flat and helped get the trolley in for me. Not sure what we spoke about, but I think we did have a natter.

I made a brew of Glengettie Gold and sat down doing absolutely nothing, but fretting of course. Nodded off for ten minutes. Woke up in need of a wee-wee and felt so much better, then? Back-Pain-Brenda was the main pain-giver, but you can’t blame her after that little backwards tumble. Hahaha! I made another drink, and took a Cocodamal, then got on with updating this blog. I hadn’t really realised how late it was, although with all the palaver I should have expected it, the Evening Carer arrived.

It was Helen. After she’d done the medications, it was she who told me what a terrible day she’s been having. Bless her! When I related my day so far and showed Helen the photographs (I was still doing the blog updating when she arrived), She did laugh! Which was good cause it might have cheered her up a smidgeon, I hope.

I realised that I could not find the Warfarin card anywhere. Mmm? Mayhaps I dropped it when I collapsed on my rump? I went to check in the elevator cage. Nope!

Summat else to worry about now, Tsk! I got back in the front room and was going to do another search of the multi-pocketed jacket… when… I spotted it on the carpet underneath the computer cabinet.

I pressed on with this blog updating, and woe of woes, I got as far as I heard and realised it was almost midnight! I’d better get something to eat… ah, yes, the chilli and the crushed brochette, or whatever its name is, bread to me.

While doing the cooking, it was complicated for an old chap, like what I am. Some done in the crock-pot, chilli-con-carne on the saucepan on the hob, and wedges in the microwave, and as for all the cleaning up afterwards… Humph! Where was I?

Oh, yes, I took photographicalisations of the night sky.

Part Of The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woes – With Odes Series.

Inchcock: Currently Up For Adoption

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Inchcock: CURRENTLY UP FOR ADOPTION

Would You Adopt Someone Who Listens To Music by Ivor Novello?

A slightly sub-standard, bald, 75-year-old, born in a bordello,
A life-long Nottinghamian, with an IQ of barely above zero,
A recovering alcoholic, stroke and cardiac victim, and dipso,
A short chubby, well-bellied little thing has his own yo-yo,
Hoping that someone can show him how to use it, you know!
Inchcock has a thing for Marilyn Monroe, although…
His doing anything about this have long gone, thus his yo-yo!
He can cook, drop things, walk into them, oh, and he’s a Virgo!

He Falls over frequently, but with help, gets up, giving it another go,
In many ways, he plods on with his ailments; he’s a bit of a hero!
At least the last time we spoke at the hospital, he told me so,
He’ll tell you of when he climbed to the top of Kilimanjaro,
But in reality, it was a steep hill in Ludlow,
And, he drove up the mountain, in his Triumph Toledo!
Vascula Dementia confuses him; I think he still has some gusto…
For the ladies, but sadly, his desires have long been fallow,
But he does like a pot or slice of cake or a limoncello.

His momentary spells of reality sadden him; he feels low,
What’s happening to him in old age, he doesn’t want to know,
Back into his deep mental haze, he’s a semi-contented fellow,
Talk to him gently, and he’ll get the message, Roger-Wilko,
Owt you want him to do will usually follow,
Even if his words seem bewildering and hollow,
There will be times when he seems bright and tally-ho!
Don’t miss his medications whatever you do, though!

Ablutioning-wise, especially shaving, the blood will flow…
Neuropathy diagnosed, amazingly he can be a cheery bloke,
Occasionally, he thinks he’s Clint Eastwood or El Zorro,
His neuropathy has shaken his right side since the stroke,
He tries to stay calm and can start the day being mellow!

He still cooks, using black bean sauce and BBQ, even Tabasco,
Now he knows the firemen by name, Colin, Brian and Joe,
Please, don’t let him run-free in Aldi, Sainsbury’s or Tesco,
He’ll panic if he can’t find you and may freeze, ipso facto!
Please forgive any of his mishaps or unintended peccadillo.
If you do misplace him, just call the police or a medico.
But operating the TV remote control, he’s messy & ultraslow,

His confidence is getting low; of course, it will not regrow,
Like certain body parts that hang below…
At least he’s stopped wearing his bra and using eye shadow,
His new Protection Pants have saved many a fiasco!
He uses his picker-upper to retrieve things dropped below,
And is contented to on DVD, his 1960’s TV shows!

He’s harmless to anyone else, this I can guarantee,
Making others happy and smile is his forte,
He shows no signs of toxicity and has congeniality,
He can’t help forever going for a wee-wee…
And he would like someone to adopt him, desperately,
He realises this would not come for free…
But has a limited amount of money,
Which he doesn’t find very funny,
He is totally free of hate and is never sarkie!
So, if possible, can you help and make him your adoptee?
He makes a great mug of Glengettie tea!

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Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

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