Ageing humour

Inchcock Today: A Dream Remembered

/ Inchie / 34 Comments

Inchcock’s Tuesday Diary & Dream Recollections

I woke around 04:20hrs: With some memories of the dream still prattling about in the brain. I lunged to get the notepad and pencil from the Ottoman; and realised they were lying between my legs, and well scribbled on, too! (Somnambulistic activity?) So I added the new bits to it and left the pages to be used later in my reminiscing of the ultra-weird dream.

Off into the kitchen, no taps, stove or lights had been left on. More amazingly, Shaking Shaun was not affecting the legs again! That’s been around eighteen hours of relief, now!

I took a photo of the clear dark morning sky. And decided not to make a brew of Glengettie, 99, or even the usual refreshing Thompsons Punjana tea; this bothered me!

Something was out of sync here this morning… most likely me! Summat up here! No shaking legs, no toothache, no desire for a mug of tea, not wanting a wee-wee…

However, I maintained my earlier om waking, almost gung-ho, hey-ho outlook, and just pressed on with updating the Facebook, catching up a bit with it anyway. I was humming the door chimes’ tune to myself, not in need of a cuppa, and as I thought I was also not in need of a wee-wee… the flow started. And continued approximately every fifteen minutes and was only taking the occasional swift swig of the spring water?

As I indicated earlier, things seem discrepant, incompatible, and incongruous today. Yet I am not put out by this… at the moment.

Working on Facebook, I came across last nights photograph of my meal. This brought back to me how tasty it was for once. Fresh garden raw peas from Nicaragua, tomatoes from Holland, sausages from Poland, chips from England, and part-baked oven cobs from Ireland. American BBQ sauce. An international feast! That I gave a Taste-Rating of 8.2/10!

I went on the WordPress reader, had a wee-wee, answered some comments, took a pee, readied this blog, had a slash, and the door chime chimed out its ♫Oh, Susana…♫ tune. It was the morning Carer came to sort out my medications. No messing with this gal, all done nada off in eight minutes, kindly taking the waste bags to the chute for me as she departed.

Minutes later, the ♫Oh, Susana…♫ tune chirped up again. This was the Sainsbury’s order arriving. Boy, had I ordered a lot or what? I’d got some cheapo eggs in. Ten for £1.10.

After taking in the items, I managed to get the chuckles into the fridge; first, there was only enough room, and I had to do a bit of jiggling around to get them into the fridge door.

They were mixed in sizes from diddly to small. Hehe! Not that it mattered to me. They were all a lovely deep brown colour.

I knew there was not much room in the freezer, so I only ordered some McCain flavour maker fries. Although I somehow managed to buy three packets of them… £9 spent there!

The first load of fresh stuff into the fridge were, Fresh peas and a milk roll loaf. Humph! Another cock up made, I’d obviously ordered three bags of potatoes, all of a different type.

Ready meal foods next. Five of the prepared meals; four Sausage in onion grainy and sweet potato mash, and one chilli and chips, all watchers, WW! Three packets of cooked bacon. (Guilty!)

Then the costly, naughty, wicked, and guilt-ridden things were put away. Oh, dearie me, yes! Three Lemon Cheesecakes. Mandarin pieces in orange jelly and two fresh cream eclairs… no, that should be doughnuts. Ahem! A substituted for lemon yoghourts. Lemon & Lime Possets. (Ahem!) I’ve never heard of these before, but on reading the ingredients: Double cream, whipping cream, lemon juice, lime juice, sugar, lemon zest, thickener, agar and cornflour – I realised how bad it was, and decided not to eat it, naturally.

I took the rubbish bags accrued by storing the fodder away to the rubbish chute room. Then it happened… The shaking and wobbling started again en route with the bags. Luckily I’d taken the stick with me; thus, I avoided having an Accifauxpa and tumble!

I can’t say the same thing for inside the chute room. Tsk! Nowt too lousy mind, just a trapped finger and back-Pain Brenda kicked off after I knocked the stick over and bent down to retrieve it. I’ve had a lot worse.

I got back in the flat and decided that if things were getting back to normal with the ailments, I’d take an extra painkiller now, have another wee-wee, and get the kitchen floor cleaned while I was still capable. So, I did!

BPB was not too happy with me, but she could have been a lot worse. Arthur Itis was almost nonexistent as I treadmilled mop bucket spinner. I did manage a toe-stubbing in the process, but only a mild effort, so I pressed on with the job, even humming a tune to myself?

Until I emptied the bucket down the lavatory; I gave myself a really good toe-stubbing then! It made me wince a little, and I just may have used a naughty word or two… perhaps, maybe.

That was bad enough, but then I dropped the bucket and got covered in the sweet smell of lemon disinfectanted but dirty water! I hit my knee with the mop stay and generally sank down from my previously almost cheerful state to a genuinely pissed-off with myself semi-depressed!

I was even angry with myself! I may well have growled and questioned my parentage! I’d gone from being practically flippant and almost uncaring, not concerned, to a deep depression instantly! My world had been turned on its head. I knew it had to happen! Back to the lucky bugger I am, that things being almost semi-content, just couldn’t last, and I knew it. Thinking this actually helped me to perk back up a smidgeon.

Go me and the place cleaned up, had a wee-wee, and got on the computer to start this blog. After five minutes, I was back at the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) with a lot of PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling). That needed shaking and wiping – and…

The door chime chimed again; I had to pack things away swiftly, as I saw a shadow had let itself in along the corridor, and I did not want to make whoever it was to laugh by displaying Little Inchy.

Esther, the cleaning lady, came in. Unfortunately, in my rush and haste to get Little Inchy undercover, his Fungal Lesion started bleeding! I couldn’t just leave her and get it medicated, but I don’t think she noticed anything she shouldn’t have. So, I had to grin and bear it.

The gal got straight on with gathering and taking the laundry for me. Esther returned after I’d cleaned and medicated Little Inchies problem. Now I had a little more pain to put up with!

But I coped well enough, back to the usual style of semi-coping and mild agony. Haha!

When Esther returned, I got the new ironing board unwrapped, and the gal got using it quickly. I was amazed at how fast she was doing the ironing for the first time on the new board.

She hung up the clothes in the hallway for me; bless her! After that, I got the chair covers back on and started to feel more my usual self.

Laundry down for me; bless her. A lot of what she said, a little too fast for me, and when I asked her what she said, the volume was too high, and her speed was the same. I hope I’ve not missed anything that was important? I thanked her, and she shot off. She’s a kind thing. ♥

So, I decided to get a mug of tea at last; as I stood up, shoeless, I trod on something hard, sharp and tiny. Can you believe it… I can, Hehehe! It was yet another escaped, dried like granite garden pea! How the heck do I not see or find them earlier? I’ve hoovered the carpet near the computer several times last and once this, and still, it gets missed! It must have been fled weeks ago, to be that hard? Ah, well!

It’s getting dark earlier than ever today. Took a snap of the end car park.

Then back to working on this blog. In between going for a leak, of course. Then fatigue dawned on me, so I stopped to get some nosh sorted.

As I was prepping the fodder, surprisingly, suddenly everything seemed to light up. The sun was having one last attempt at coming through, and I got the camera to snap it. Not a good effort, but still.

Sausages with a drop of onion gravy, carrot and leek potatoes, coiled potatoes finished off in the oven, fresh Nicaraguan garden peas, and a Lemon & Lime posset pot. Not as good as last night’s, but a score of 7/10 for flavour was given.

Washed the pots and back to the chair to eat the posset… Zzzz! Off into a deep sleep, I trundled and had the dream, as I had mentioned earlier…

.

I was in a shopping centre or big market. As I went along, it dawned on me that the three-wheel walker was behind me, and I was pushing a shopping cart ahead; I turned to look for a supermarket where I assumed I had taken the shopping trolley; from… Then noticed that the three-wheeler was following behind, under its own steam? Then as we came to an escalator, I hesitated, and other shoppers were getting annoyed, asking me what the problem was.

I said I can’t get on the escalator with two trolleys… and I got the oddest of looks, and people laughed at me. One woman asked if I’d escaped from somewhere?

“What’s its name?”

“Who’s?”

“The trolley you pillock!” “Tsk! are you poorly or what?”

“I call it my walker?” With which she snapped her fingers and commanded, “Walker… Fly! I thought, even in the dream, something’s not right here? But the three-wheeler raised up like a Darlek in Dr Who and flew gently down to the bottom of the escalator!!! Wait for me at the bottom!”

When I followed the others down, I realised that there were no moving steps, just a controlled cushion of air, that we were using?

And I could see down on the floor below, trolleys of all sorts waiting for their owners and running to their side when they got down. And mine did the same? seeing other folks sending the trolleys to get things from the shops, I tried it… “Walker, Boots, get a large tube of Germolene!” And of he waddled off to the Boots store…

A ganglet of young ladies surrounded me, asking for my signature, and would I sing them a song? Like pricking a bubble, instantly they were all gone?

I sat on a bench, trying to make sense of all this…

I was woken up by Carer Lisa. I didn’t mention the dream.

Lisa did the medications, and she shot off; she was busy tonight.

I got the computer back on and updated this blog.

It’s been an odd day… again!

The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe Series

 

Inchcocks Local News Snippets – Part 12⅝th

/ Inchie / 17 Comments

Don’t forget, when it’s wet, Aspro keeps you dry,
A saying from my youth, putting this in, you may think why?
Sorry, I’ve not got the foggiest, I’m losing it, I cannot lie!
So, the police take it seriously if it’s been reported?
A passing policeman saw it; would he be uninterested?
Oh, my sarcasm is at its peskiest!

By the time I’d read this, I’d a headache from my arithmophobia!
The NHS workers are well above being mediocre…
The pressure they’ve been under must have been a live-changer,
Can’t we do something, so they can have a recharger?
To give them a decent pay rise – reading this, Boris, you minger!

I don’t mean to be a rumourmonger or scandalmonger, scaremonger, But I’ll hold my hands up to being a gossipmonger!
But why does a Tory like what Boris used to be… Nae, not really!
Pay big raises to some, and others are not so feely-feely?
Boris is not a low-lifer… more like a copy of Lucifer?
Whatever your view; I think it’s the type of politics you prefer
Are politicians, each one a philanderer, or pilferer,
Are they better than a postman or scaffolder?
A lot of them get caught, exposing their doojigger…
Expense fiddlers, tax-dodger, or some a doppelganger!
They all seem to quickly point their forefinger…
They’ll make one if there isn’t a political cliffhanger,
Some MPs are better than others at propaganda…
I think of them when I’m using my guzunder!
Cause they take the piss, lie, cheat and plunder…
Cunningly increasing prices, they invest with a Luxemburger…
Still, bless ’em, they have a lot of money to launder!.

The grey cells seem to have got a bit mixed up here, doing this little ode below. The plot sort of evaporated. I ended up having a go at the politicians. Nothing new, I know, but usually, I can control these urges. Getting it back online, in a fashion, took me ages. Sorry!

Figures and numbers again, what an ache,
They can be manipulated, for the politicians’ sake!
For the politicians and wealthy, caviar at Le Gavroche,
Where a dinner cost around $590 per person, Ouch!
Still, I’m content with my cheesy potatoes and a fishcake,
Too much and rich food gives me the tummyache…
Anything rich, like roast quails, venison or cheesecake,
My finances are tight, my bank interest is opaque,
I’ll stick with the base food brought over by Francis Drake?
Potatoes, chips, mash, roast or raw… I always want more,
It’s the prol’ in me, I’m used to struggling, always been poor,
I’m at ease with plebs; they try to nick off of you, I assure…
But by my having nowt they haven’t got, I’m safe for sure
I need nowt else, no desire for haute couture!
Yep, in all things and areas, I am, at best, demure…
Just as well that I’m no epicure…
I’ve lost track of what I typing about – a mental rupture?
Intelligence, education, long ago I did disinure!

I’m not doing a lot for Nottingham’s tourist industry here!

When I see such figures, confident, I’m not!
Then again, who am I, intelligent, clever… You what!
I had faggots and potatoes for lunch… but it matters not!
How are these numbers arrived at and begot?
Are they accurate, true, to be trusted, or am I a clot?
I think they are part of a political plot…
Believing them leaves my brain in a knot,
Is truth doctorable, like a camera shot?
Have they been got at by a Judas Iscariot?
Are they genuine? Or fiddled, and tommyrot?
Or, am I a thicker than I thought fusspot?

Murderers, murderers who tell people they are going to kill someone an hour before they do, and the pathetic namby-pamby, out of touch with reality, criminal fancying, Arf-arf, judge tells him he believes you didn’t intend to kill him. Humph! No, you bewigged Pratt! The drugs made him do it, which are supposed to be illegal! No wonder crime is rising, with pillocks like this giving laughable sentences for murderers, and he can’t remember the evidence!

But it doesn’t bother me, oh, no!

Reminds me of a humorous happening that occurred when I was recovering from the heart op in the City Hospital. I was to be allowed visitors that day and had an appointment with the DVT Clinic in the morning. They collected me, and the chatting merrily nurses that took me to the clinic stopped in the main corridor and asked if they left me there for a couple of minutes, would I mind?

No problem, I replied. (I got the crossword book and pen snuck under the blanket on the trolley). I fell asleep, though… I was woken by a very concerned and harassed looking and sounding nurse.

I’d been there apparently, for over two hours, and no one had missed me. (It’s with me being so popular, Haha!) Sister Jane and Pete had come to visit me to find an empty bed – Poor Jane was genuinely concerned (I owed her a tenner – Haha, only joking!)

Up and onwards, near the end now…

So, if anyone fancies a lovely peaceful break over Easter, Covid restriction permitting; Why not visit Nottingham. They have a few cafe’s that have not gone bankrupt during the lockdown. If you fancy staying, there are many retail units available for sale or rent on the half-mile stretch of Mansfield Road available… You might even consider moving to Nottingham? No? I don’t blame yer!

Part of The Inchcock Make Em Laugh with Odes Series

Inchcock Today: 2022 Cometh

/ Inchie / 21 Comments

2022 Cometh

No one asked it, too – but it came all the same!

Friday 31 December 2021

Inchcock’s computer was doing odd things again,
Inchie knows it is doomed; he feels the pain,
Still, he’s got his other worries, Morphine and Lidocaine,
Everything nowadays confuses him; facts are so hard to retain!
His efforts to improve his memory have all been in vain,
But Inchies determination to survive remains unslain,
Then he stubbed his toe, lost his key, then a tumble again!

He set about making an imitation dinner…
Perseverant, dedicated to making this one tastier!
After a few meal failures lately, he’s getting jitterier…
Confidence gone, he tried, but this meal was crappier…
His language, as he turned into a self-hater…
He should have stuck with sausage and mashed potato!
Boy did he swear, spit, as his self-loathing went nuclear!
A good job that no one else was in the area!
Then pains from Duodenal Donald did appear…
The old codger is not having much luck, I fear!.

Depressed with himself now, he got his camera,
His mind wandered… thinking of his meal… beefburger?
“I fell asleep and missed the fireworks, silly bugger!”
As he saw the sky, he thought of being an astrologer,
Realising his eyesight, with so many a disorder…
Cataract Katey, Glaucoma Gloria, and Saccades Sandra,
He’ll see nowt, and the telescope he couldn’t manoeuvre…
His pre-2022 brain and thoughts were even unclearer…

Inchcock got into his overwhelmingly sickeningly…
Beige, second-hand, £300, c1968, uncomfortable, recliner,
Nodded off, woke up in the kitchen – how? Somnambulistically,
Dropped off again, woke at 00:10hrs, not very jocularly…
He’s missed photoing the fireworks – he blames his dementia!
But he still got his camera, and onto the balcony, he did venture…

2022 Had Arrived!

He whipped back the cover where he was reclined,
And mottled legs, and glowing ulcer he did find!
But, no time for medicating now; his leg he disentwined…
Got his fully charged camera, all realigned…
Took two photographs, not too badly defined!

Kettle on, and off he went to the Porcelain Throne,
After half an hour, I had to check on him (Alto-Ego) all alone…
I heard no screams, not even a moan!
I floated into the Porcelain Throne…
He sat there glum-faced, scratching his thigh bone…,

Into his crosswording… He said, “Nowts moved, Alto”,
“Rock solid, burrit won’t move, though!
“Have yer given the Diapharm capsules a go?”
“One yesterday, one today! No, it was two today!”
As I laughed and left, I thought I heard him pray!

Inchcock Leaves The Wet Room!

Forty minutes after going into the Porcelain Throne,
He came out wearily, in pain, and took a Ziprasidone,
He seemed fed-up, looking drawn and on his own…
His usual contentment seems to have been blown…
He started rubbing on his cheekbone…
Oh, dearie, he’s got toothache; but he doesn’t moan,
Just stands there, fascinated, looking out at a drone!

Health Checks Time

Well, the BP SYS is a little high,
As is the Pulse, he wonders why?

Temperature is at 34.2°centigrade, not too high,
He’s unconcerned, and I think I know why…
He’s been in the fridge, reading instructions on his beef pie!
Then checked the cooking times on his chips… Oh, my!
Then went on CorelDraw, to make a graph, that’s why!

I heard him talking from the other room; he was going at it,
He does a lot of chinwagging to himself…
But I’m not worried about his mental health a bit,
Although his finances are losing wealth…
He was happily talking to his pet, Rabbit Rupert…
All the others as well, he did look a little hurt…
When I called his brown bear, Burt…
He grabbed me by the shirt…
Even though he’s only a little squirt…
And I always thought he was an introvert?

I soon discovered why he was being so short with me,
His favourite nurse did not arrive…
I laughed; he threatened to kick me in the knee!
But Arthur Itis and Dizzy Dennis made him fall over, you see,
I’ve never seen him so active…
Till he tumbled over, now he’s definitely inactive…
But he did get back up; it took him a long time to rise…
I laughed at him again. He was very reactive…
To the point of being so argumentative…
I told him, I’m not real, you do realise?
That’s why kicking me was very unwise!.

Inchie sulked a while, took some more painkillers, and skulked off to prepare a meal. I’m worried about him…

Hehehe!

TTFNski, all!

♥ Have a betterer 2022 year! ♥

Inchcock’s Morning Musings – In Ode

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

Inchie Woke With An Idea For Today’s Blog Theme!

He went into Photographicalistical mode straight away. Well…

And after the traditional painful, challenging wee-wee,
He got his Canon camera and dropped it, accidentally,
Well, he’s getting senile now and rather elderly…
His thoughts and actions are slow, performed dottily,
He hurt his back, bending to retrieve it; he needed another pee!
Yet it still worked, so he took his first photo, jauntily…

He took it from the balcony,
The red van parked, again, illegally…
Yesterday, the lights shone brightly…
This photo came out fairish – a periodicity!

Clear morning, t’was no longer foggy…
The following two shots were taken in duplexity…
Top one to the north-east,
Second to the south-east,
Not so good these, my apology!.

He took an extra snap, using technology…
He’d zoomed in, to him that’s using gadgetry,
He went into a smug mode, as he did one correctly!
He even charged up the battery…
For him, that’s technological activity!

But the twerp couldn’t get the card to work
The computer was confusing the burke!
Card reader not recognised, he went berserk!
From his efforts, he did not shirk…
And by some miraculous quirk…
He got it to work, the jerk!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

After making a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, stubbing his toe, and dropping the milk bottle, he cleaned the mess up. Took his CBD.

The formula was frivolously formulated for phrasemaking while Inchcock was busy cutting himself shaving. He can’t recall what it was exactly but decided that as he continued with his ablutions and medicationalisationing, he might get inspiration or a vague idea for a new plot. But, by the time he stopped the chin bleeding and utilised the Porcelain Throne, the earlier plan of his blog’s theme had plodded off into the ether, lost forever…

Teeth cleaning, nasal decongesting, and into the shower. Inchie banged his shoulder against the power-box (Dizzy Dennis to blame). Swore violently. Took his shower, then set about doing his medicationalisationings.

These went reasonably well (Did I say that?) The most painful bit of agonistically applying the stinging Betamethasone cream really was nowhere near the pain it usually was? This was a good start.

Treating Arthur Itis, Colin Cramps, Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley, Ankle-Ulcer-Herbert. Harold’s Haemorrhoids, Saccades Sandra, Duodenal Donald, Back-Pain-Brenda, Little Inchies, Fungal Lesion were all medicated. The none Carer and prescription items were applied to many parts of the body.

Saccades eye drops. He was gobsmacked at getting some of the liquid into the eye, for once. Of course, he managed to get some in his nose and mouth as per usual.

A second hobbling speedily attended visit to the Porcelain Throne was followed by taking two Dioctyl® capsules. To counter Trotsky Terence’s return! Messy, very much so! Took ages to clean things up afterwards.

Carer Richard arrived. Soon got the medications sorted, and he made sure I took them and didn’t drop any, bless him.

It was his last call, so he spent a little while having a chinwagging session with me. The lad’s gone through many similar procedures as I have, but poor Richard got them a lot earlier in his life. Which I appreciated.

He’s coped amazingly well with things. A caring bloke, too.

He seemed to be cheery,
And, off Richard did flee,
I had another pee…
Colour chart for the wee,
Was on number three,
Now six, it smelt musty!
Oh, back to the lavatory,
Oh, what a malady!

Well Into The Afternoon…

But no one had told Inchcock, the chatterbox…
Chattering to himself, sipping dandelion & burdock!
Thinking he may just wash his socks…
A message comes through on his voicebox…
Unsolicited mail, through his letterbox…
He forgets the socks: arrears in his Carer fees shocks!
Over £400 – Oh, Hollyhocks!
That’s not what he said, but it also rhymes with Bullocks!
He plans to get it paid by the following equinox!

Supplementary Information

A change of nosh style, I’m watching the size of my hips!
Vegetarian sausages, peas, swede and lentil potatoes…
Chilli sauce, onion gravy, a banana, oranges…Oh, and chips!
I forgot to take from the fridge the tomatoes…
And now my rear quarters blows and blows!

The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe In Rhyme Series

Billum, treats Inchcock’s Ailments

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

A bit of fictional fun in Ode here

I hope it brings a smile and a laugh!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It All Began…

T’was months ago, when Billum said, “You need curing!”
“I do?” I replied Billum’s words had got me wondering,
We continued with our badinaging,
The result, revealing a fascinating thing!
Bill continued with a medical debriefing,
He’s a clever chap, quite a scientific boffin,
He’d worked out how to mend the ailments that got me coughing!

He could cure or ease many an ailment without any drugging!
His lad Alan had had a look in…
Did the mechanical engineering,
Medical engineering? That got me fearing!
H.R.H. Lisa, had the first aid kit ready… encouraging?
At this point, I had to ask… is this going to be hurting?
And can I and H.R.H. Lisa do some flirting?

The procedure would take a few days, but no haemorrhaging,
Chances are, Inchie, that you’ll not feel a thing!
Lisa will be there, and take your care under her wing,
But flirting? No, or you really will be hurting!
I thanked him, asked Billum if it involved my contortioning?
“Well, you might jerk about a bit; that’s nothing…”
“You’re used to Shaking Shaun, un Peripheral Pete bugging!”
“Once we set up the various electrics…” Lisa was earwigging…
“Worry not, Inchie… for Billum is not a fledgling!”

“This electroconvulsive therapy will soon have you jogging!”
Then we’ll make you a meal and give you some noggin!
“That’ll be marvellous Lisa, I’d just love some snogging…”
“No, I said noggin, not snogging; oh, dear, your hearing!”
“The syringing, I’ll do that for you! It’ll be astonishing!.

Billum and Alan helped me with the plans on travelling,
The transport I could afford needed ambushing…
I nicked the lorry and got to near Ohio, without any bathing…
Poor H.R.H. and Billum did a bit of nose-clenching!
But soon Billum took charge, first my showering!

Getting over my fears needed establishing,
My worrying, Billum started extinguishing,
He got out his plans to explain, and I stopped flinching…
“I’ll tell yer, in simple terms, what you can be understanding…
We all sat down, and I started listening…

And let’s face it, you’re loaded with them! Electroconvulsive therapy (E.C.T.) is a procedure done under general anaesthesia, in which small electric currents are passed through the brain, intentionally triggering a brief seizure. E.C.T. seems to cause changes in brain chemistry that can quickly reverse symptoms of certain mental health conditions.

Lisa at your side throughout. We know how you love her so, so we’ve asked her to give the odd squeeze of your hand, keep gong close to you so you can smell her perfume, and hear her words of comfort… But try not to get too excited! Remember, it’s all part of the procedure. We won’t be bothering with any anaesthesia because we will have H.R.H.

After having some of H.R.H.’s special Chilli Con Carne and a cream cake, we will be doing it in the basement laboratory.

Hahaha! Nowt to worry over Inchie, E.C.T. is good on older adults who can’t tolerate drug side effects. A muscle relaxant is usually used during the procedure to stop the patient’s muscles from moving during the seizure. Still, we’ll skip that cause with your Peripheral Neuropathy; there ain’t a cat in hells chance of you not twitching.

“Fair enuf!” At this, one of the cats jumped up on my knee and rubbed its chin against mine! Nice!

We’ll throw in a bit of Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (T.M.S.). We think we’ve improved the procedure by swapping bits here and there. Alan worked out that the hyperparameters programmed into the medical device were used to deliver magnetic therapy to the brain by reducing the max-pooling in the convolutional neural networking of the design of the machine. Naturally, this means that your Body Mass Index (B.M.I.) and hypertension will be of less concern than they usually would be, you see?

There’s no worry about quantum entanglements, blue-shiftings, or Lagrangian points. These have all been factored into our plans. As with fasciculations and diaphragmatic flutters, There will be a chance of you horripilationing, but that is of no consequence, as you know.

“Oh, good!” No idea what Billum was on about. He forgets how thick I am, I think. After a lovely nosh, down to the basement, I was led…

A shame, really, but I woke up then!

Part of the Inchies Make Them Laugh-In Ode Series

Drastically Demystifying Daily Deliration – In odes

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

WHY?

Why have I been chosen, a selected one of many,
Who often bleeds when he spends a penny!
I fall in love with Carers, like Caroline and Gillie?
But none of them wants to adopt me…
If they did, they would have to be silly,
My waterworks and Porcelain Throne session: Agony!

Years ago, I never thought of acting bellicosely,
But bad luck started early and kept at me grossly,
I suffered bullying, parents fighting with barbarity,
That, from long ago, I remember with clarity!
Breakfast today? No idea; it could have been a chip butty?
My failing memory, the short term one, is really burdensomely!

My thoughts can often work well, indeed cohesively,
An interruption comes, and earlier plans become a mystery!
I stutter at times, and some people talk to me derisively,
My shaking right side arm, leg and hands decidedly…
Make strangers shocked, and talk to me impolitely,
They speak to me; if they do at all; as if I need psychiatry…
I had a Dizzy Dennis moment and fell over, getting an injury…
A bloke said to his missus: He’s drunk! Very dismissive!

I started waffling again then, lost the theme of this Ode,
I’m obviously getting more senile as I get old…
The reason? My cleaning lady arrived, came in very bold,
She was taking my laundry to wash, I was told…
Off she went with the Bold and freshener scent…
Back to the blogging, well. that was my intent…
Esther, return washing all done, we nattered, that was fun,
But my inspiration and concentration were done!
I hoped to return to it, but I fell asleep, woke by Carer Julie Pathan.

Beyond any energy using now, physical or mental at all…
Went to the Porcelain Throne and had a fall…
Banged my Booster pained arm against the wall…
It’s getting dark, soon be nightfall…
I’ll get some nosh sorted but will return to things philosophical,
If Gillie doesn’t let me take her for a week in Portugal…
It’s no fun being moral and mortal…
Life is likely seen through some alien portal…
The very thought of that made me chortle!

Another Feast!

I think it is called Comfort Food?

Polish cooked pork (9.5/10): Nigerian podded peas (3/10),
Royale Anya potatoes (5/10), Sainsbury’s Tomatoes (4/10),
Microwave poached eggs (8.5/10), I hope to try them again,
With Thai sweet chilli sauce (7.8/10), A banana (8/10),
A large layered yoghourt, real raspberry, extra cream (6/10),
Then, the Thought Storms Began – I’ll go potty, I’m certain!

Self Assessment

The truth is, I’m getting in a mental pickle,
My chances of rest and peace, ain’t worth a nickel!
As for today’s opticians’ findings optical…
Cataracts, glaucoma, pupils needing to be widened…
Before the examination can be completed; but, no stickle!
I’m to have a procedure, I wasn’t too enthusiastical!
Needles in the eye job, she said, all matter of factly,
Then drops for a few days: can my costs be deductible?
And start the whole procedure over again… there’ll be trouble!
I’m sure things might get better… Gawd knows when!

Evening Care Arrives…

The Evening Carer came about seven o’clock,
Sweet Angel, but in a rush, but she was still therapeutic,
I gave her a big box of Quality Street chocs,
To share amongst the Carers, she went, I took off my socks…
And fought with the Thought Storm a little longer, then…
Sleep arrived: but I soon woke up… needing a wee-wee again!

Part of the Inchcock’s True Odes to Life Series

Inchcock Today: Part Ode – with an Ailments Update

/ Inchie / 25 Comments

SUNDAY NIGHT

The extra handicap of the reaction to the Booster Jab; made my doing anything, taking an inordinately much longer time than usual. Thus, it was nearly midnight last night by the time I’d got the blog finished and posted. Although aching and in pain, and really needed to get some sleep. The mind and body wanted to close down. But, Inchcock, an epicurean, foodie, glutton, gourmet, chow-hounder, and well-known foodaholic, put an end to any thoughts of joining in with any Sweet Morpheusness for a while.

I foolishly started to make a belated meal, and a mini-feast it was too! At last, come around about 01:00hrs, I got it served up.

Raw fresh peas from Nigeria. (Shame the ones from Peru are not available, they were sweeter than the Nigerian ones by a mile, but beggars can’t be choosers when things are out of season) Oven-baked potato slices, tomatoes, crispy smoked bacon was the main course. The bacon was eaten in slices of milk roll bread and was dunked in some absolutely great tasting Thai sweet chilli sauce. I was satisfied with the substituted bottle; as for where I got it from, well, I’ll get some more from Amazon.

Which reminds me, I’ve got some diabetic bamboo socks delivered today. Well, that’s what I say! Bearing in mind my cock-up stroke Whoopsiedangleplop with Sainsbury’s and Morrison’s order dates, I get them arriving yesterday; when my Google calendar clear says that the Sainsbury one is coming Monday and the Morrison one on Tuesday… I’m sinking into the morass mess of mental mayhem of memory mishaps. It has to be admitted. Vascular Dementia Doreen is to blame, methinks.

Of course, you have to bear in mind that it is me we are talking about! No chance! Anyway, I feasted well, did some belching, took an extra Codeine, and flaked out on the recliner searching for sleep…

MONDAY MORNING

Sleep as I recall it, when I got up for my fifth wee-wee, at 03:00hrs, seemed far away, a luxury denied me again! Thought Storms Stewart kicked of the instant the eyelids drooped and threatened to nod off. It’s incredible how many things you can fear, hate, smile and laugh about, returning memories to torment you on your failed options and actions. Self-disgust, the injustices of those in charge, shames… not to mention the ailments having a go at you. I had no idea what time I got off into the land of nod, but I kept waking up thinking, I’d better get up, the carer will be here soon – then nodded off again.

The Doctor’s response to this problem when I spoke with her (a few years ago now, of course) Was, “Yes, many older people get this… any other problems?” I decided not to bother her further.

As I woke for the umpteenth time and was going through the routine of planning to get up, then falling asleep again, the door chime rang out its loud, ♫ Oh, Susanna ♫ tune. Gawd, it was late! Carer Richard came in to find a foggy-brained Inchcock staggering up out of the recliner. Hahaha! Fair enough, he does usually find me fuddle-brained anyway.

Richard asked the required medical question, as they do on a Monday. And did a wristlet alarm check to ensure the signal was getting through to the Nottingham City Homes people.

It was his last call, and I enjoyed a little nattering and moaning session with the lad. I thanked and treated him, and off he went.

Then as I put the kettle on belatedly, I took some shots of the morning’s misty views from the kitchenette window.

The photographs didn’t help my spirits much,
Didn’t cheer me up; I still felt I was a bit of a schmuck,
An old man, (Gillie) again being lovestruck…
If she was to adopt me, I’d be thunderstruck!

I wonder when the socks will arrive, they’re made of bamboo,
Had to get some; it’s too cold not to wear them now, Boo-Hoo!
I’ll check the Amazon tracker; that’s what I’ll do…
Nine stops away, couldn’t ask for better, could you!
The socks seem to be of reasonable value…
One can’t say that very often of Amazon, can you?

In an effort to cheer missen up, I perused the box of gifts that HRH Lisa and Billum had sent to me from Fort Thomas in the USA. I know, I wasn’t going to open it until Christmas Day, but anyway…

The box within the box was so pretty, it had to have been decided on by a lady. I put it on the server trolley and investigated away! But I’ll not put them on display until Christmas day.

Just look at all the work Lisa must have put into making these for me!

She even named them for me in the card she sent with them! ♥

Crazy Furry Goat (Goliath), Long Eared Rabbit (Roger), Wacky Cat Kawaii. Pink Fuzzy Monster (Malcolm), Rudikth, the Red-Nosed Reindeer! The names in brackets are those I’m considering giving them when they get on display and become along with Koala and Teddy Bear, my morning chinwagging partners! ♥

I’ll have to make sure I give them names that I might remember. Otherwise, they will get confused about who I am talking to if I use the wrong word. Hehehe! They put in some ‘Moon Pie’ cakes as well. They are not available in the UK. And they look rather tasty! I shall not indulge until Christmas day!

When I showed them off to the carer who came to check on my medicines stock, she thought they were just like a Wagon Wheel. When I put a picture of an unopened lemon Wagon Wheels on my blog a while back, Billum said how they looked like Moon Pies. Thus they sent them to me to try. Bless their cotton socks! ♥

♥ Thanks again, HRH Lisa and Billum! ♥

The door chime rang forth again;

♫ I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee,
I’m going to Louisiana, my true love for to see
It rained all night the day I left; the weather it was dry
The sun so hot I froze to death; Susanna, don’t you cry.
Oh, Susanna, don’t you cry for me
cos’ I come from Alabama
With my banjo on my knee… ♫

The daycarer from the Meridian office was the day carer; she’s come to check that my medical stocks were sufficient for over the holidays. She thought the Moon Pies were like Wagon Wheels… Oh, I’ve already said this, I guess, sorry!

She thinks I’ll need some more Codeines getting in to last me. Which is not surprising, with all the extras I’ve been taking; What with the 15hr agony of the hospital trolley marathon, the bruised bum, then the absolute nightmare of the reaction to the booster-jab, I think I needed, they got me through anyway. I expect someone somewhere to believe I’ve become addicted, however, and another lecture from the Doctor, of course, over the phone.

Another Escapee Pea!

Making a fresh brew, I trod on something rock-hard on the kitchen floor, almost like an electric shock, it made, jump a smidge. It seems lately that these escapee garden peas are coming out of hiding regularly? Haha!

I checked again in the Mazon bamboo sock front situation. And guess what? As you see, this was the message I got from them. Delivered today; your package was left near the front door or porch. Well, it hadn’t been! I got myself into a mini-flap when I wondered if it had been delivered to Winchester Court in error?

So, I rang ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Warden, Desktop Dancer, and who is also not interested in adopting me! Tsk! It’s just not fair! She said it might be downstairs in the lobby; I mentioned Winchester Court, she said the flat is empty. I had a vision of them leaving the stuff outside the door of an empty apartment – if so, it would not last long! Deana said she’d look for me and let me know. I thanked her and returned to the computer in another failed effort.

Hehe! Ferreting around for something to nibble, I came across the packet of new mini-cheddars I’d ordered, but I resisted the temptation. I’ll have them later when I’m more depressed or even hungrier.

Medicalisation Checks

The right arm looked betterish, and the pain has subsided a lot now.

Little Inchies fungal lesion had not bled all day. I liked that a lot! But I am in no way being fooled; it’ll come again!

The legs (the Knees) had improved beyond recognition this Monday. I had a job to recognise them as my own. Although, Arthur Itis was getting a little frisky with it when I was writing this.

Warden Deana Saves The Day

Deana rang the door chime and entered – with the parcels of socks in her hand, bless her! They had been left down in the front lobby by the Amazon delivery urchin. Along with several other packages for different people! I thanked her kindly.

ABLUTIONALISATIONINGS

Cleaning the teeth broke another tooth,
The few teggies left are getting corrosive,
But I wash brushing a little aggressive,
Shaving, not a single cut or nick,
Showered, I almost felt hygienic…
On the radio, the London philharmonic,
Stubbed my toe; that was chronic…
But, I don’t want to nitpick,
Even though I tripped over the walking stick!

Food Glorious Food

The dessert was a bit special. On the label, it read; Raspberry Gourmet Greek-style thick & creamy live yoghurt with fruit layer. Confusing innit? Tasted okay. Cooked seasoned sliced Polish pork knuckle with seasonings sarnies, Nigerian podded peas, and crispy chips (oven fries). Flavour rating; 8/10.

Late Phone Call

A call from the opticians came in. Which left me more confused than ever. According to the lady calling me, I did not have an appointment with them. But when I called in there last week on my way to the dentist, I called in to book an appointment, got home and put a date in the calendar, January 4th 2022. She said they had not made an appointment for me?

I’m getting mixed up here; back to the phone call: She asked if I could come in the morning (today at 09:00hrs for an eye test? Presumably, they had had a cancellation?).

Being the keen attentive, alert, sharp sort of person that I’m not, I made another Whoopsiedangleplop; I told her her ‘Yes’ I’d come. Then realised I had the Amazon order coming? Too late to get help ringing her back; the staff had all gone!

Evening Carer Valerie arrived, and I soon fell asleep after she’d gone.

Fed up! Woke up wide awake at midnight and got this blog finished and posted, a little late, but betterer late than never!

Morning All!

The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe Series

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 Ode To Life – 4¾

/ Inchie / 16 Comments

Meandering (he knows no other type) Ode to Life, in which Inchcock bemoans his mental and physical conditions.

Well, wouldn’t you?

Thursday 16th December 2021

I sense the sanity, logicality that I used to find absorbing,
It is now departing my personage and brain… slowly ebbing…
Is there no chance of a semi-restoration?
At least a partial rehabilitation?
With meditation, concentration and circumducing…
Will hope become a possibility of memory-enhancing?
The Thought Storms arrive… sometimes only fleeting!
Even so, the brain-box takes a terrible beating!

But there is no point in me moaning and bleating…
To escape pains and be active, I’m not that contortionistic,
To recapture common sense – how? I’m no academic…
Not that they are coping with the Covid pandemic!
Unknown, mental disorders on man’s brain are feasting!

Life to me is akin to my terrible blogging…
But without any face to face dialoguing,
I absolutely love a friendly bout of chinwagging…
Being deaf can make life a smidge disparaging,
And my ode ideas always seem to be dingdonging…
For detail from short term memory, I’m always wrestling,
I fell in love the other day, she was only fortysomething!
I suppose you’ve noticed my habit of subject-hopping?
Starting on, say, food, sex, intentions etc., constantly swapping!
I find forgetting things humiliating, gut-wrenching!

These Thought Storms, persistent, then suddenly vanishing?
But they will return, with their Tardis swooshing…
I can be doing anything… weeing, singing, teeth-brushing…
Sometimes they can set me off soul-searching.

I may get hit by a good idea, but it’s only ever glancing…
Other occasions drive me into a mental-panic, screeching!
I’m not normal; that is a well-known thing…
I sense there is someone always watching…
Whether I’m sleeping, eating or doing the washing…

And the itching fungal lesion, I can’t help scratching!
Which, of course, starts it off again, bleeding…
I usually just clean it up and do the medicationing…
Then feel sorry for myself, at how it is hurting!

But a Beep-Popper By Night!

Years ago, I loved to go Be-Bopping,
Nowadays I get tired after burping!
Occasionally, I sink to witwantoning,
Not for long, I routinely fart and start yawning!
Fall asleep, dream of me and Grizelda, tobogganing.
We’d exercise, for suppleness and strengthening,
Have multiple sessions of in-depth, close-up cuddling…
Then, I’ll wake up… none of it was true – bloody sickening!

Part of The Inchcock Make ’em Laugh in Ode Series!

Hehehe!