Inchcocks 6th Lockdown Escape – To the Pharmacy

Offlymuch I went, I did,
To fetch my Fenbid-40 & MacroBid,
And a tube of Fenbid,
Although it cost me my health and a few quid!

The road was blocked by traffic parked on the pavement,
But I didn’t relent,
A passing car missed me,
To the floor, I nearly went!
Down Winchester Street,
It was a brave feat,
The brakes don’t work…
I carried on, my mission to complete!
More trouble on Hood Street,
Blocked pavement again,
But I an not to be beat!
Went on the road again, such a pain!
Got on Mansfield Road near Rhodes,
But where were the folks?
No muggers, bikers or Schaghticokes,
I think I’ll buy some Artichokes!
I stopped to look down Hadyn Road for a while,
Little traffic, few people that made me smile,
I moved on after a while,
Realised I’d forgot to take my mobile!
Started up the hills,
To fetch my pills,
To cure my ills,
Up ahead, the cottages and vills!
Aha, a Pavement Cyclist was seen!
He scowled at me, he didn’t seem too keen,
On my putting him in my camera screen,
His face looked a little adamantean!
Over down the hill to Carrington,
A place of muggings, violent action,
Blimey, my poetry is terribly bad…
What’s your reaction?
Got near the Chemist shop, a little late,
The retailer shops looking in a bad state,
I wonder, what is their fate,
Bankruptcy, for you mate!
I entered the Chemist shop straight away,
No welcoming smile, did they display,
I wished I was far away,
I tried to look happy, appear to be gay,
My emotions were in disarray,
Got the tablets, and I was away!
I called at Lidle, to get some food, spend my brass,
Noticed, the yobboes had smashed the window glass,
Coronavirus, made the yobboes mad and crass?
Did someone think the glass, a canvas?
Was it done by some drunken dumbass?
Done by a gang of anti-maskers, out to kickass?
Good job the window was made of plexiglass!

I must apologise for the patheticness of this rhyme,

But writing it, I was unwell at the time,

Anne Gyna, stopped me feeling sublime,

My future as a poet is not worth a dime,

But I’ll try to get it better next time!

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

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!

Inchies Ode to Inchcock

The effervescent, bubbly, good-natured Nottinghamian, 25-year-old, super-fit, Educator, Mountaineer, Professor of Neurotransmitterisational failure, and lover of oven-baked Leicester cheese potatoes; presents his latest dollop of poetical rubbish, for you!

Here we go…

I may be getting on for eighty,
But I retain some childish juvenility,
It’s one thing, in which I have the ability,
I don’t need any guilt or justifiability,
I’ve no confidence left, just vulnerability!

My ailments give me pain and irascibility,
I’ve long lost interest in egocentricity,
My body’s lost strength and elasticity,
The legs have lost their endurability,
The brain’s, now devoid of logicality!

Possibly, perhaps, partly old age, you see,
Could be lack of fun, loneliness and frivolity,
That’s made me somewhat grumpity,
The Porcelain Throne? It’s solid or liquidity,
No chance now, of any multi-functionality!

My once sharp mind, now full of banality,
I catch the wrong bus into the City,
I stutter now, so it’s hard to be witty,
I feel I’ve become a nugacity, a nonentity,
For falling asleep, I have a propensity!

No fighting spirit, and no ignitability
I’m morose, sad, no shockability,
For black periods, I’ve a susceptibility,
Life no longer offers me any tangibility,
But a big flabby-stomach, and gibbosity!

One thing that’s grown, is my gullibility,
And my stomach, that’s an undeniability
My hopes have gone, died, ostensibility,
Now life has very little enjoyability,
I sometimes wallow in self-pity,
That’s when I’ll write, a silly ditty!

Donations please: To me ASAP. Thank you.

Coping with Old Age – Inchcock Style

Coping with Old Age – Inchcock Style

Wrote in SuPport of the fethaurus Users league

Like Corona Virus and wee-weeing, it comes to us all,

Like dizziness, madness and having many a fall,

You can’t prevent it, like a rainy squall,

It’ll come, Summer, Winter, Spring or Fall,

You might be having rumpy-pumpy, or playing beachball?

Football, tennis, baseball, trying to throw a curveball,

Or you could be summoned to the guildhall,

Nowt will stop ageing, for eternity, you may trawl,

But as I say, it doesn’t matter at all,

Ailments, disabilities, agony to recall,

Life is just a struggle and a brawl,

Unfairness, those who seem to have it all,

Money, good looks, who lives are a ball,

Even for them, live will stall,

Death is perfectly natural,

Mind you, them who live at Balmoral,

Though, lacking in some moral,

Live longer, that’s connatural,

It’s us commoner’s, with no collateral,

Who was accepting our being visceral,

But death, well, it’s gone viral,

For the underprivileged, hopes, are not transferable,

Though, commitment is not endurable,

Life is not so cheery, easy, or affable,

Things can get so bad, death is advisable,

But still, you must admit, it can be laughable!

I wish that humour was bequeathable,

And seeing the future was browsable,

Wouldn’t it nice, if death was cancellable!

Just a thought! – I had one in 1958 as well!

Inchcock – Wednesday 10th June 2020: Another escape to town, in the rain. An Irritable day, with the odd pleasant highlights

Wednesday 10th June 2020

Filipino: Miyerkules ng Ika-10 ng Hunyo 2020

00:00hrs: Already up, and finished working on this updating of the Tuesday post, and sent it off.

Then went on the WordPress Reader section. Then I Pinterested a few snaps, next onto Facebook. Spent some time on Facebooking. But it eases and pleases me, and I enjoy it. Then, on to CorelDraw to get some graphics done.

Oh, Gawd! From nowhere Dizzy Dennis attacked, I really did think I was going to fall off of the swivel chair, and a headache developed at the same time, on the right side of the head! Enough, when I felt stable enough, I got sat down with a drink of orange juice, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley kicked off, which prevented me from nodding off for a while, but sure enough, as things calmed down further, I drifted off into the land of nod!

I stirred around 06:00hrs. Disinclined to wake or get up, and the Thought-Storms started. The need for a wee-wee arose, and the urgency increased. So at least that got me and my oleaginous, body out of the £300, c1968, second-hand, not-working, disconnected rickety recliner, and to the wet room.

A brand new style off wee-wee today, (It’s interesting having so many ailments!) I’ve Christened the mode as UDYP (Urgent-Deep-Yellow-and-Painful). It’s encouraging to be able to report that Little Inchies fungal lesion was not bleeding at all! All done, washed the hands and contact points, and as I was going out of the door, I had to go back in to deal with another rushing-gush wee-wee of the same variety!

I wiped and washed again, and off to the kitchen to do the medicationalisationing.

For some reason, unknown to me, as the bare feet got on the floor tiles, they were so cold to the touch?

The BP readings were different this morning. SYS well up, at 173, DIA 83, Pulse 77, and Temperature was 37.8°c. When I got out the tablet dispensers, I worked out that I had enough up until Saturday morning. This is when ILC, Ballerina, Comforter, Obersturmbannfuhreress, and Warden, Deana, said they should be delivered by the Carrington Chemist. I made a brew…

Gordon Bennett! The first sip was taken, and agony invaded the teeth! Cricky, it made me jump! Of course, the toothache was well set in, and kept on all through the day! Gragnangles! 

Coronavirus is to blame for many of my new ailments.

  • The chemist cannot get the Saccades Sandra spray yet!
  • The paediatrist is closed until further notice!
  • The dentist is closed until further notice!
  • The Audio Clinic (Running out of hearing aid batteries) closed until further notice!
  • The Opticians closed until further notice!

I decided I’ll see if I can get out and about later, and try the audio clinic for some batteries. That is if I can manage the haul up that terribly steep and demanding Park Row hill. Might I change my mind later?

I took a photo of Chestnut Walk. I think there is a free car parking space available. A seldom known, extraordinary happening here at Windwood Heights?

I got on with updating. The rain and darkness repeatedly came and went, and finally, the updating got finished. The job was all done and dusted.

Off I trudged to the wet room.

The ablutions were soon got into with gusto. The shaving didn’t go exactly according to plan. But the teggies were painless, well not pain-free, cause of Toothache Thomas, but at least I didn’t have any bleeding from the gums.

The pins were looking a little battered, and still very much of the ghostly-anaemic design! The volumingargantuan, onerous hog-like, ponderosity, bulk, flabby stomach, may well have gained a couple of inches of girth overnight? But I’m sure I did not do any nocturnal nibbling?

After getting myself dressed (I can do it on my own now, you know, Hahaha!), I pottered about faffling, panicking, and double-checking everything before I dare set out to catch the bus to town to get the hearing-aids (And take some photographs).

I went for a wee-wee, and this time it was of the SS (Short-Sharp) mode of exudation and was the colour of a suppuration, it really was yellowy-green!  Don’t be jealous, though, if you live long enough, it can still happen to you. Then all these exotic, appealing ailments, Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas and mysteries I write about, will become apparent and understandable for you. I didn’t mention logical on purpose. (Hahaha!)

A semi-serious, convoluted message came from my EQ! It was certain; The trip out was going to be frustrating and depressing. I should consider not going out! Mmm? The Emotional Quotient is rarely, if ever wrong! Foolishly I ignored the warning and got everything needed in the three-wheeler guide, made sure the bus-pass, door swipe, keys and crossword book were taken with me. Double checked the lights, faucets and electrics, all seemed okay, and off I went. With a big bag of recyclable material over my shoulder (not really, it was on top of the trolley, Haha!), and out I hobbled.

Down, bag in the bin, and ambled along Chestnut Drive, as the drizzle started to come, camera at the ready. I stopped for a few moments under the Chestnut tree while the rain was more substantial, but it soon weakened to just the odd spit falling.

As I got to the bus stop, I met Welsh William. I told him about Timothy Price’s marvellous clip of the owlet and told him if he gave me his email address, I’d forward the link. Then told him of what happens in the video. No interest was shown, which surprised me, I thought he’s loved to have seen it. He went off talking to someone else. Ah, well! Bless him, his free choice.

I limped over to where Peggy and Christine were nattering and bothered them. (Hehehe!) Peggy had on a seriously good face-mask, black, and it looked good quality built. Christine had hers on, and me too! They then told me that, from next Monday, anyone travelling on a bus must wear a mask. I decided to get another or two while out today.

They all got on the Bestwood bound bus with some other tenants, and I was all alone again. Then, slowly it dawned on me why! I’d got the bus times wrong once-again, Humph! I think that my EQ was right! With only going out once in months, I’d forgotten about the L9 service now being on a permanent Saturday roster, meaning a bus every two hours! I did feel a clot!

Back to the flat, and I took a few more photographs en route. One of Winchester Court main entrance. The flowers outside Winwood Court’s foyer, they were beautiful, especially so, with the petrichor, the aroma of earth and rain! Lovely! Then snapped the frontage of Winwood Court. A lot of open windows today?

Back to the apartment, and put these pictures into the computer. A letter had been received, telling us work will be taking place on the roof and will be noisy.

It’s going to be a long day, now I have to catch the 10:30hrs bus. (If I knew then, what I know now, I wouldn’t have bothered going out, the hearing aids batteries, and a mask so I can get on a bus, persuaded me to go though! Of course; as you will read later, I managed to get neither of wanted items! (Note to Self: In future, do not ignore the EQ!) Grumblecronkackers!

I set out once again to get the bus, at the right time this time, for the 10:30 L9. I was the only passenger to get on, but the bus was fullish, and with the side-saddle seats not in use, I had to sit on the outside of a standard chair, and hang onto the three-wheeler, to prevent it rolling away at each corner the Graham Hill fan, the driver took.

I was feeling worn out by the time we got into Nottingham. I was going to call into Wilko and the Poundland shop to see if the yhad any face-masks in. But, Wilko’s had a note on their window, telling us they had none left, but would do their best to get some for us!

And the socially-distanced queue for the Poundland shop filed around the corner for hundreds of yards! So, I had a walk to the Poundstretcher store on Milton Street. This where I got the face-mask from last week. Of course, they had none left in stock, either! Gragnackles!

However, I did get of my favourite McVities orange flavoured chocolate biscuits. A bottle of Woolite washing liquid and a bag of black bags.

As I came out of the shop, into the more torrential rain now, I met Gertrude, an old friend from years ago, and we had a natter in a doorway to keep dry. But her telling me she had just gone tot he Audio Centre to get herself some hearing aids, and they were closed, did not do me a lot of good! Silver-Lining Search Result: At least this saved me hobbling up the hill to find out!

I made my way through Trinity Square, avoiding the now-famously suicidal and dangerous to others, Deliveroo pavement cyclists.

It was a depressing hobble. What with so few people about, and those I met or spoke to were all down in the dumps, or in a snappy mood.

The change of rules for the bus passengers having to wear face-masks, causing another shortage of supplies.

The drizzling rain soaking us all through. 

The much colder weather, and a general atmosphere of, well, what’s the words I’m looking for? Depression is too strong a word… oh, I don’t know though!

I walked down and through the Slab Square and onto Wheeler Gate, noticing the two, what looked like new Police Community Officers, in their brand new uniforms and stab-vest, watching as they ambled around, ignoring the pavement cyclists, the vehicles parked on double-yellow lines. A scuffle taking place for a moment on Long Row encouraged them to walk up King Street in the opposite direction.

I called in the Poundland shop there, and they were not busy at all. The manager even greeted me as I went in, asking me, cheerily; “To take your time, no rush, you might spend more then!” Hahaha! It worked, no face masks available there either, but I did spend a bit. Buying, 2 lemon-sherbet concentrated disinfectants, (No, I’m not joking) 2 Lemon Verbena & Cucumber air sprays, (No, I’m not jesting here, either, Hehe!) 1 can of beef in gravy for a quid. 1 pack of Indian seedless grapes, a packet of walnut-halves, and cashew nuts. A packet of BBQ chicken pieces, and a packet of pork slices with stuffing! And a pack of six mini-jelly pots! By gum, the lady who helped me put them through earned her can of G & T!

I paid-up and had a hobble in the rain to St John’s Church, and called in the Sainsbury’s small shop, to see if they had any face-masks available. Nope! Shame! But they did have some decent looking tomatoes of which I bought a pack and some seafood sticks.

I had a wander around the City Centre, before going to the bus stop, cause I had plenty of time. I spotted the imitation police officers, now on Upper Parliament Street.

I made my way to the top of Queen Street. The drizzle was easier now.  A police car sped by, followed by an ambulance. And the Theatre Royal & Royal Concert Hall, surely one of the ugliest building ever built?

Then as I was going down to the bus stop, one of the infamous Deliveroo cyclists, floated down Queen Street at a fast rate of knots, in the wrong direction. Queen Street is one way, up the hill!

I considered pointing this illegal Road Traffic Act naughtiness out to the two heroic imitation policemen who were still nearby, with their hands in their new tunic pockets, keeping away from the earlier well avoided, Long Row scuffle.

But they had given me some rum looks when I photographed them earlier, so I thought better of it. Hahaha!

The L9 arrived with two drivers, and they kept me out in the rain for a few minutes while they chatted. No help offered in getting my heavily overloaded walker-guide onto the bus. I had to sit in the same deadly seat as going into town. They got off, of the bus.

I got one of the chicken pieces out of a bag to nibble. When the boss man got back on, he said: “There’s no eating allowed on the bus, youth!” And kindly offered me a scowl, worthy of a David Cameron sneer! And so I stopped eating!

The ride home was uncomfortable and I banged my ankles, elbows and knuckles, more than a few times as I fought to stop the trolley wandering off each time the bus screeched around a corner.

I was well in the dumps by the time we got back to Winwood Heights.

EQ was right! Colin Cramps were coming on already!

As I got into the flat’s foyer, Josie came behind me, and we had a little natter. When she heard of my problems in getting a face-mask, she fetched one for me to have. How kind of her! I got the fodder put away, and made a mug of Glengettie.

I updated this diary for a couple of hours, then, very late on now, I got the beef nosh sorted out. Beef and gravy, with extra caramelised gravy added, potatoes, garden peas, apple pies, seedless grapes, and lemon yoghourt. Flavour rating: 8/10.

So late, so tired, and soon slid into a much-needed sleep.

An Irritable day, with the odd pleasant highlights.

 

Inchcockski – Tuesday 9th June 2020: Busy, up-to-the-neck in it day!

Tuesday 9th June 2020

Afrikaans: Dinsdag 9 Junie 2020

01:45hrs: I came back to imitation life, and my mind filled with the memories of last night’s unfortunate, to say the least, Whoopsiedangleplop in the kitchen, when the bar on top of the cabinets came down, making a terrible mess, that I basically left unsorted, and needs tending to today.

This prompted my making plans on the duties that lay ahead for me. The Iceland delivery is coming, along with my beloved Hristina, my phlebotomy nurse in the same time-period; twixt 09:00 > 11:00hrs. I need to at least get yesterdays blog finished and posted first. Then make a start on this one. Do my ablutions. Get the mess in the kitchen sorted out, and the kitchen floor mopped up.

So, I got out of the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner; niftily I might add, and off to the EOGPB (Emergency-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket) for an EBSC (Energetic-But-Short-Painless-Cloudy) wee-wee.

Then to the kitchen to get the kettle on and do the medicationalising as needed. The pins looked in rude health, although still looking a little aenemic. The leg ulcer had almost disappeared, but there was some itching coming from it.

The sphygmomanometer revealed that the Sys had gone up again. Could be the excitement of seeing my Vampire Nurse again? But most likely at the thought of all the cleaning and sorting of the kitchen collapse is likely. Grobognangles!

I got on with the updating of the Monday blog. Pressed on persistently and eventually got it all done and posted off. (This took me around two hours to do!) During which, a stomach ache came on? It might have been Duodenal Donald getting ready to kick-off, but I’m not sure. Finally finished it and posted it off. Emailed the link, Pinterested some piccies. Then onto Facebooking.

Time to get the ablutions sorted, then the kitchen to sort out. Oh, also the handwashing to be tackled. Oh, dearie me!

Well, it’s a long time since I’ve actually walked into the door frame! Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was not pleased, at all! At least it was the right blade, and with Nicodemus’sNeuroitransmitters on strike at the time, there was not much pain.

But, Shirley seemed to kick-off the instant I collided with the door, which meant I dropped and broke one of the Jenny-donated mugs which I as taking to wash! Cragknackles! Then, bending down to pick up the pieces, Back-Pain-Brenda joined in as well, she was nasty with it! But, a Silver-Lining-Search, told me I had been doing extremely well ailment wise over the last 24hrs, so I should only expect things like this to happen. Fair enough! Gragnattles! Also, it was handily timed, so I could apply some Phorpain Gel after the ablutioning! Again, Fair enough!

Just as I was about to start cleaning the teeth, and the need for the Porcelain Throne put in an appearance. Good timing again, there I was a limp-and-a-half away from the Throne at the time! And apart from being a little messy and Khari in colour, the ensuing evacuation was almost perfect. Yes, I know, a welcome shock it was! And no bleeding! Smug-Mode-Assumed!

Washed the dandies, and then searched for some teeth to clean. (Haha! Not many left now! A bit of bleeding where I got a tad over-zealous on the back lower teeth. Ah, the shaving next! Fully aware of the likelihood of Shuddering-Shoulder Shirley causing a slash or to, instead of using both hands and two razors as usually would, I tried shaving with just the left hand. But this seemed to set Anne Gyna off? How? Why? So, I reverted, carefully to my usual method.

There were a few nicks, but nothing extreme at all. And they did not bleed much either. I reckon the INR Warfarin level must be well low. With waiting for three weeks for a blood test, it’ll be interesting to see the results of today’s test.

A stand-up all over wash (Too early to use the shower and disturb my unseen for months neighbours) The pins (legs) were looking better than they have for ages. However, the legs did look exsanguinated in the extreme, which was a smidge worrying!

Then I medicated the bodily areas in need of the same. Haemorrhoid Harold’s crevice was Germaloid creamed. Arthur Itis’s knees were Phorpain gelled. Little Inchies fungal lesion, well, as usual, I gritted my few teeth and rubbed in some Corticosteroid cream Argh! Olive-oiled the ear-holes. Applied some tincture to a couple of bothersome teeth. No Saccades Sandra spray left. I’ll see if I can get in touch with the chemist tomorrow, then see if Deana can help with arranging to have it collected for me, along with the prescriptions.

I rang Jenny to tell her that when the milk arrives, I’ll ring her, and bring it down to her. But bless her, she having none of that, and insisted she would come up to collect and pay for them. She’s not a lady to argue with! I wish she’d adopt me, though!

Then I hobbled to the waste chute with two small bags. I was walking, well, stumbling decently enough, but the feet and toes were rather painful.

Back to the flat, and got the handwashing sorted out. I got the zip-up jumper above the heated cloths air ion the hallway to catch the rising heat. (Cunning, eh? Hehe!) I’ve now one drying, another cleaned, and the one I’m wearing and dirtying. Hahaha!

Then, I washed through the yarmulke, and craftily put it on a bend in the airer, and kept turning it every now and then, to help it dry quicker. (I’m not daft yer know! Alright, fair enough, I am!)

I got the towel drying on the flat airer in the front junk-room.

Somehow or other, I attained some zeal,   resolution, and pertinacity, and set about, limpingly, I admit, to get the kitchen floor cleaned!

Worra struggle and pain it was too! Cleaning of the floor, I knocked stuff over, dropped and lost things, cut my finger, banged my head on the cupboard door, broke the mop, banged my knee on the step ladders, and generally had a terrible time of it. Tsk!

But still, my determination prevailed. And finally, at last, I got the job completed. With little, if any, self-satisfaction, I’m afraid. I’d made such an absurd and frustrating accident-prone mess of it!

I got the kettle on, and the cobs and cooked beef out to make the beef sarnies, and heard the sound of the yap-yap dog, so I looked outside, and there was a group of dog walkers, all maintaining a proper social distance from each other, while their dogs had the time of their lives.

The lovely little black yap-yapper never stopped wagging its tail. The other two black dogs were playing with the bigger brown woof-woof. I got such enjoyment out of just watching them, it cheered me up a smidge.

I took another photographicalisation from the balcony, of the end of Chestnut Walk. The red cars were back.

Fellow blogger Bill, from the US of A, told me he doesn’t see many red cars over there. Looking at the top overall popular colours in the U.S., for all vehicle categories, White – 19.3%, Silver – 18%, and Black – 12.4%. The UK, it’s White – 414,403, Blue – 373,728 and Red – 226,501. Not earth-shattering, but interesting? 

The Intercom flashed and much to my delight, it was Hristina, the gorgeous, sweet-natured phlebotomy nurse come to take my blood. She was soon up in the flat. Having not seen any nurse for three weeks, and it being two-months that I’ve not seen Hristina, I was a tad disappointed in her being too busy for a proper chinwag. But, she still chatted while she took the blood, bless her! I could see she was pent up a smidge. She told me of how long she’d searched for a parking space, and had to park on double yellow lines and left a note on her windscreen saying she would be back in ten minutes. Poor thing. But the lift seeing her gave me, was most appreciated. 

I got Computer Cameron back on, and the intercom sounded. It was Iceland’s delivery arriving.

The chap was soon at the door and left the bags in the hall for me.

I got the carriers into the kitchen and sorted the skimmed milk into two bags to spread the weight for Jenny. Left them outside the door and telephoned her to tell her they had arrived. She again she insisted I do not take them to her, and she came up to collect them Bless her little cotton socks!

Ah, I’ve meant to look up the origin of this phrase for ages, and I finally did it! My Dad used to use it. Not to me, I might add! Hahaha!

Here’s Google’s first answer: It comes not from the cotton material, but from George Edward Lynch Cotton. In 1858 as Bishop of Calcutta, Mr Cotton created schools for Eurasian children. As part of his philanthropy, he ordered dozens of pairs of socks to be sent over for the children, blessing them on arrival.

Second one: “Bless their little cotton socks!“: Used to express your affection for somebody because of something they have said or done. Now we know! Hehe!

Jenny came up and pressed the bells, collected the milk and nipped off after she’d put the payment in an envelope through the door. “Bless Her Cotton Socks!” All sorted.

As I was making up three beef rolls to have later, perhaps with a few oven-chips, the mind went off on one of its lucubrations. Not a Thought-Storm as such, because somehow I was ignoring the mind-musing and getting on with making the cobs. That came out wrong, I think? I put the cobs in a cool spot to keep until I have time to eat. Not the fridge, though, cause of Toothache Thomas.

Back on the computer again, and the ‘I only want to be with you’ tune of the door bells chimed up again. Heart-stopper, ILC, and Warden Obergruppenführeress Deana came in, to test the wristlet alarm with the control room. Another busy gal! But while I had the chance, I had to ask her to help with the medications, to find out about the prescriptions for me I only have three days meds left, and if necessary, to arrange collection for me. She said she’d find out and ring me later. I’d be lost without help on the phone, thanks, Deana!

Back on the computer. Not got much done, a bit busy even for me today.

I went on CorelDraw, and guess what? Pee’d off now! I decided as it was late anyway, to turn things off, and got on with the snack. I decided (Yes, sometimes I can make my mind up! Usually, with an erroneous, wrong, incorrect, and much altered and changed outcome. Tsk! 

I made three of Big Baps up with butter and roast beef slices. Marmite flavoured cheese, tomatoes, fries and an apple pie. Taste rating result: 4/10, shame! The cobs were dry and bland, the Algerian tomatoes bitter and foul, and the apple pie all sugar, no fruit. But the Marmite cheese and fries were tasty.

Washed the pots, took the medications, and got down in c1968 recliner, to watch a football match from Euro 2016. Can’t remember at the moment who was playing, cause I fell asleep before it started.

Woke up four hours later, thinking it was morning, and got up. I should have known really, cause there were no demands for a wee-wee or the Porcelain Throne!

I decided to stay up anyway. I had a bash at trying to get the ankle-support strap on. No chance!

So I got this blog updated and sent off, then on Facebooking.

Taketh care folks!

Inchcockski – Sunday 22nd March 2020: Mentally muddled today. Usual state, then!

2020 Mar 22

2020 tttMar22

Sunday 22nd March 2020

Hungarian: 2020 Március 22, Vasárnap

000 Mar 23

GM brown L02:30hrs: Well, well, well, sleep at last! Six hours no less! Within minutes of waking up, I’d decided there was an ode about the Coronavirus that had been floating about in my head, and it needed tending to, while it was fresh in my memory box. Of course, the gurgling and rumbling from the innards started. So a trip to the Porcelain Throne had to take predominance.

wd 0.0.30 I arrived in the nick of time on the Throne, and the evacuation started without any input from me. But only so far, then it was reluctant-cement time! The pain I went through to get things moving again, was unpleasant, to say the least. But, I freed things, and unfortunately, this caused quite a bit of bleeding, that took far longer to stop than usual. And of course, wasted a few precious sheets of toilet paper. I should have used the kitchen towel roll, I will next time! And really must call for a prescription for some more Corticosteroid cream.

Had a wash, the contact points antisepticated, and off to the kitchen. Took the medications, made a brew and off to the computer and made up the Coronavirus Calypso ode. The words flowed out with ease. I must have been dreaming of this during the night?

wd 0.0.30 I had it made and posted off in record time! Then got on with updating the Saturday blog, which took me a lot longer. Mainly due to Shoulder-Shaking -Shirley and Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failing both at the same time. After such a relaxed session on the ode-making, I could not help but feel a little sorry for myself, suffering from so many ailments. Then I thought of Josie’s meal needing doing, and I didn’t have the natural desire in me, but I shall not let her down, it will be done!

7Sun01I checked the emails. One from Amazon is asking for a review of the Tork toilet rolls, that had been cancelled! I filled it in, mentioning the reason being that as they had not been delivered, I couldn’t respond in the accepted style.

I Pinterested some photos, and then I had a go at the TFZer Facebooking for a few hours. I got around to the WordPress Reader section at last.

It was all of a go-go, on the CorelDrawing then. I kept doing graphics for the TFZer and Album pages on Facebook. This is because at last, the hassle from Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failings had eased off a little, and became only sporadic. Baffling, even the Doctors aren’t sure why this happens so often, I was just grateful it does and was enjoying the freedom to work on graphicationalising. But had to stop, a little disappointingly so I could get my ablutions done and prepare Josie’s meal for her.

I limped to the wet room first, to get teeth, shaving and showering done, bit with a sense from my EQ, to take care. Mmm! We’ll see, back in a bit.

wd 0.0.30A I’m back! Apart from just a couple or so (5) dropsies, the five cuts shaving, wee’d me off. Hah!

wd 0.0.30 I got stuck into the handwashing and realised that part-way through washing the togs, I had not started Josie’s meal yet! It was a hell of a rush job to get it to her on time! Once it was prepared, I rushed it to her door, taking a can of G & T and a pot of the Toy-Shop yoghourt that was custard & rhubarb flavoured. I had to buy this flavour with a lemon flavour, and I don’t like rhubarb. Tsk! Usually, I take a snap of her meal, but today with the rushing about to get it ready in time, I forgot all about it. I gave her fish sticks, mixed some tuna-in-brine with some mayonnaise, a few anchovies, halved some mini-tomatoes, a piece of cheese, garden peas and my World Famous, (Well, my sister Jane likes them) Cheesy-Potato-Mash. I put less salt on the tomatoes with the anchovies being there) She answered the door a bit quicker than usual, and quizzed me as to what the anchovies were. I hope she likes them. She handed me a packet of Victoria cakes. I thanked her and gently explained to her about my being diagnosed with diabetes.  But being the weak-willed-wimp that I am, took them anyway.

7Sun04Back to the kitchen and got the and washing done, rung and hung! Then, I tackled the laundry. But I felt okay, as Dizzy Dennis and even Shoulder-Shaking-Shirley were being kind to me!

I put the rest of the cheesy potatoes in the oven on a low light for my nosh later. The other half of the anchovies will go on it, with the left-over peas and some fish stick and Surami, well, that’s the plan, anyway.

7Sun05I made a mug of tea, taking this picture of the new kettle making the place seem all clean and polished. (Obviously, it wasn’t, though, Hahaha!)

wd 0.0.30 Then as I was going into the computer, I noticed I had not emptied and cleaned and put away the GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket). So, I had an INHBBT (I-Needn’t-Have-Bothered-Barely-Trickling) wee-wee, and off to the wet room to clean and disinfect things. It didn’t-half pong! I mustn’t forget that again!

Back to the blogging and updated this piece of documentary-styled, unelaborated hogwash. I pressed on with the blogging, then visited the TFZer Facebooking for a quick update.

7Sun39I’ll get the nosh done now. I was so glad I bought all those tomatoes when I went to Arnold now, they are keeping pretty well too. I hope they don’t suddenly shrivel. This was a meal worth a taste-rating of 8.5/10. I dined slowly and savoured every bit of the food without any abstemiousness. My coenaculous desires were well satiated!

The washing-up of the pots was accident-free. Well, I did spill a fair bit of water on my belly, but then again, the stomach does stick worryingly-flabbily out so much more now in these isolationing days. Tsk!

Pete WinI got a wash and changed into the night attire. Then got uncomfortably settled on the second-hand, £300, recliner, that xyrophobia-suffering, Lottery winner, Pools winner and flat-robber, Brother-in-law Pete Archibald Bratton had knackered, while he was flat-sitting and stealing my valuables, while I was in the hospital after having the stroke.

Disappointingly,  sleep did not want to come. But when it did, very late on, I sank into unknown bliss, for about six-hours uninterrupted peace, not even any dreams or nightmares! (That I can remember, anyway!)

Nice!

Coronavirus Calypso

A spur of the moment, impulse, load of drivel, created, as Inchcock woke up. He asked me to pass on his apologies, as he was temporarily in Defcon 2 mode, mentally.

5Fri007c

Remember These? Of course, the hoarders will!

Coronavirus Calypso

Going into self-isolation,
As is most of the nation,
To get the toilet rolls in?
The chances? None to thin,
Coronavirus, payment for our sin?

Tellurians, you must not bump into,
Tatterdemalion or the well-to-do,
Urges to touch, you must subdue,
Cut your hair in a basin cut hair-do,
Having sex is still under review!
But pigeons can still bill and coo?

No food in the shops,
Bread, milk, you might find a few,
You’ll have to fight and argue,
Battle with the determined queue,
Then blood and insults will spew,
The language was very blue!

You might try home delivery for food,
To sustain you and your brood,
If you do try home delivery food!
To the delivery man, do not be rude,

Self-isolation; is wrong, some folk argue,
But I’ll not be involved over this, thank-you,
HMG responses seem so impromptu,
Certainly going to cost us revenue,

Self-isolation, so many folk rue,
A bit of good news is overdue,
Confusion over what we must do,
We mustn’t shake hands too!
Is mankind’s end really in view?

Stuck at home, what do we do?
Clean shelves and dust that statue,
Pen some extra veins to your tattoo,
No food in, so no chocolate to chew,
Can’t get out to buy, so no making stew,
Your plans and orientation, gone askew!

Sit, read a book, perhaps of Fu Manchu,
Back of the fridge, mouldy Danish blue?
You’re starving now, crumbs for tea, that’ll do!
Dig around the sofa, for crisp-crumbs residue!
The nurse’s visit cancelled too,
Mind froze, stagnated, what will ensue?

Where is the spirit of World War Two?
Is it the end, will you ever again hear a cuckoo?
Is it to be, that you’ll not see another cup of tea?
Farewell, to your beloved tasty Glengettie brew?
Your mind gets depressed, whatever can you do?
Finally, you get a plan made and worked through!

Escape! Find food, and hopefully, a toilet roll too!
Your plan to go shopping, sanctioned by the Tenant’s escape crew,
How to get out though, whatever can you do?
They don you with a wig, to hide your bald head from view,
You know you may not return, but offer your neighbours, a thank-you,
Creep out, staying in the shadows, your walking stick oiled too,
Arrive at the store, but what a sight greets you…

Header7

But it’s the future, your deja vu, hitherto!

Empty shelves, fighting, greed, at Sainsbury’s too!
Little fresh food, no toilet rolls, not even a tissue!
This is now a serious issue,
You give an Achoo – but ominously, nobody blesses you!

WDP 003a

Published in Support of the Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society

Vital Advice for Nottinghamian Senior Citizens, Part one – In Rhyme, of sorts

BNC01

They’re dangerous, uncouth and some are blind,

The ignorant swine are uncaring, and what’s more,

They often hit you, coming silently from behind,

Leaving your hand arm or elbow, feeling sore,

They test your sanity, patience and mind,

They’ve no warning bells or horn, that’s for sure,

Belting along the pavements, they are a bind,

It’s no use if you beg and implore,

For them to leave more room, not be so unkind,

The few who reply, use sneers, curse-words obscure,

To roads and cycle paths they should be confined,

Their insults, two fingers you’ll have to endure,

Best to use your walking stick – hit ’em on the jaw!

BNC02

But that’s no solution, not a good idea, you see,

Cause they are young, fit and violence-loving,

They offer scowls and are threatening to me,

Some ride at me, I have to do some manoeuvering,

Which ain’t easy with the walker to push, you see!

Empathy, sympathy, and understanding they are avoiding,

Making this old fart, run and flee!

 Taking their photograph may get me a beating,

But don’t give up the struggle, become an attritee,

Join me on my hobbles, bring a Glock, that’s the thing!

BNC03

They don’t scare me though… well, not too much.

Alright, the law-breaking and getting-away-with-it ‘Gits’ do!