Inchcock Today Wednesday 18th May 2022: Dairy

Wednesday, 18th May 2022

Ode To Depression

This morning, my depression turned to contemplation,
First, a few moments of deep retrospection,
What ifs, maybes and with some reprehension…
With mixed feelings, I recalled Thatcherisation,
A spirit that shocked and scared the whole nation,
Can’t keep his pants on John Major, constipation!
Tony Blair, liar, self-advancer and chancer… revulsion!
Gordon Brown, debt maker, indeed, no statistician,
Runaway Etonian, smug, arrogant but shit… Cameron,

Theresa May, Grenfell Fire, Tory Council, on the next day,
Lessons from the fire would be learned, she did say…
Visited the aftermath and was chased away!
Kensington & Chelsea London Borough Council, well they…
… are responsible, but Tories: So, no prosecutions to this day!

Guilt, self-blame, and self-recrimination led to self-expostulation,
Whatever came to mind led me to self-recrimination…
Black depression, I’d lost control and rationalisation…
I needed a bit of luck… to regain my motivation…
Eventually, I settled for acceptance of insanity and self-irrision!
It seems my life will never get any moments that are ambrosian,
Then again, there’s is there ever any justification…

But no! I shall fight this darkness by being conciliatory,
Apart from the ailment, deafness, and cataract, I can see…
Most of the other problems are down to my past stupidity!
The guilt should be expected and accepted, you see…
Bad choices, and decisions, are coming back to haunt me!
So how do I fight them off to get my mind guilt-free?
I just have to sulk and take the blame compliantly!

I found when reading this that it flows with duplexity…
My rambling thoughts get entangled, incipiently…
Reviewing failures is a wise thing, necessitously…
I’ve so many ailments and faults characteristically,
And a stomach that bulges grows, excrescently!
I struggle through each day rather incompetently,
Thought storms and depressions are just an inevitability!
This does not stop me from wanting happiness, such a pity!

Inchcock is now out of his Dracula Depression,
The main reason was his guilt; he now shows contrition…
The reasons for this, there’s a combination…
Well, several really, starting with his visit to the fridge,
He found some mushroom pate, just a smidge…
Not a common pate; this one had caramelisation!
With chips in his freezer, this eased his deprivation!
Chips, pate, tomatoes for his palettes delectation…
He loves his comfort food, and that’s no exaggeration,
He now accepts his loneliness and being Godforsaken…
First, though, this blog to do; he also loves his scriptitations!

Diary

Due to my taking so long to do the ode, a shortened version. Sorry!

After falling asleep early last night, I sprang awake at 01:30hrs. Wee-wee, wash, wee-wee.

Sorted out a waste bag or two, passed wind, and shot to the wet room to utilise the Porcelain Throne – Trotsky Terence controlled – Messy! Decided to get the ablutions done. A lot of cleaning was already needed after the almost liquid evacuations.

Got the computer on. I loaded pictures from yesterday.

Latest local Covid figures.

I’m assuming Tuesday night, a meal from earlier, not positive as to which day it was on. But Dementia Doreen is not letting me access the old memory easily at this moment. She is a bugger!

Getting back into the room after ablutionalisationing. The legs, ankles and feet were looking a  little less battered about. But Arthur Itis and Cathy’s Cartilage were giving me some sticks.

Carer Richard arrived. Looking well done in after his shift. He said he had another call to make, so he could not stop for a decent natter. But still gave me a few minutes, bless him.

Herbert kept me company over the next couple of hours as I started updating yesterday’s blog. Got it finished as Herberts stopped his banging and clanging. Which was nice not to hear.

I took a break, and hobbled around the flat, did the belated balance exercises, and did a bit of bending, but this routine was restricted by Cathy and Arthur Itis. But no Dizzy Dennis visits yet. Yehaa!

Facebooked on TFZ and Winwood Heights pages. Did some WordPress Reading, then Comments reading and answered. Computing again, I Finished and posted the blog.

Made a start on the ode for this blog. The ideas were coming so fast I could hardly type them fast enough… thus it took me hours and hours to get it finished, and a multitude of errors had to be corrected.

Herbert gave me good hours of bangs, scraping noises, tap-tapping, and finishing his concert with a proper crunch-thud. Silence after that? I hope the haughty, snobby, pompous gentleman has not injured himself and is not lying up there, bleeding in agony.

I put the computer in sleep mode, rose from the swivel chair, and went into the balcony to have a moment’s peace. Took the Canon camera with me and shot the end car park

RVM, the Red-Van-Man van, had parked even further into the yellow chevron No Parking Zone. Still, it is not too important an issue with all the murders, prison escapes, stabbings, and children being mauled and killed by dogs.

I pressed on with the blog, but tiredness overcame me. It does that occasionally, I’ve noticed!

I called my Precious Jillie (Ex Carer) to see if she’ll be in tomorrow, and I can drop off the flowers for her. (Assuming that J Sainsbury’s delivers them and not a block of lard as one of their famous substitutes!) Luckily she agreed. So on the way down to get some cash from the hole in the wall.

I can pop them into Jill’s home, go to the bank, and then Ozan, the Continental Shop, for their delicious vegetarian beef, sausages and sourdough bread (Not on order from JS). No doubt some other bits that will catch my eye.

I turned off the computer, planning to get my meal, head down, and wake alter to complete the blog-finishing mission.

I got the nosh prepped and served up. Potato fries, finely crushed tomatoes, veggie bacon, and a pot of the delicious instant mash with veg sausage bits and a gravy flavour. Not a mixture one would usually have, but I was tired, confused, and a smidge fed-up at the time. But it tasted okay, and I ate most of it. Taste Rating: 7/10.

Stripped and washed, I got down in the £300 second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable, unfit-for-use, not working recliner, underneath a blanket. Determined to get to sleep…

On the verge of nodding off, I realised I was naked, and the Carer was due in about an hour… So, not wanting to make the mistake of greeting a Carer with no trousers on again, I got some jammie bottoms, and a t-shirt on, about to get back down in the chair, and needed a wee-wee rather urgently, and made my way to the bucket…

I stubbed my toe on the wheel of the recliner as I lost my balance… banged my already painful Arthur Itis and Cathy Cartilage patella on the arm of the chair, swore, nearly pee’d myself but got there in time… had a somewhat sad wee-wee, and emptied the now nearly-full NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), washed and disinfected it.

Eventually, I got resettled in the recliner. Once again, on the verge of drifting off to sleep… and ♫Oh, Susana♫ chimed from the doorbell, and Carer Valerie came in. I was not entirely with it, but she got me sorted, and unknown to me at the time, she washed meal things for me. Bless her!

Gave up, got up, and got back on the Computer. Sleep had been taken of of my agenda now. I turned the TV on to watch a Heartbeat episode, nodded, and missed the last ten minutes.

I cheered up a bit when the Card Reader started working again, and I got this photographicalisation that I took earlier of semi-puffer clouds. Tsk! I thought I saw a claw, but I can’t find it now.

It is now just gone midnight. And I’ll post this off and try again to get some sleep, Sweet Morpheus permitting, of course.

Inchcock’s Diary, with Memories and an Ode

What happened to Inchcock on this day, in 1953?

On his way home from the getting some cows heel and tripe for his Dad. As he was crossing the canal on the bridge on Wilford Street. A gang of teenage Herberts lifted him and unceremoniously threw him off the bridge into the canal! Being about six years of age, scared to death of water, and unable to swim (His fear was life-long, he still can’t). He struggled to grab hold of a barge rope hanging over the side of the boat but lost his grip, he got cold, and his fingers were not big enough to hold on… As he sank into the water, a pair of strong hands from a bloke in a rowing boat dragged him out and took him home. Where his father knocked the hell out of him for losing the tripe and cow heel, pointing out that the 2/6d (12.5p) cost would come out of his pocket money! Which baffled the lad a bit cause he never did get any pocket money from his Dad in his life?

SUNDAY 15th MAY 2022

05:15hrs, I begrudgingly woke and awaited the brain to join me. Which it did, with the message that I needed a wee-wee. I freed my cumbersomely large bellied body from the £300 second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable, unfit-for-use, not working recliner. NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) took me a while due to the vast amount of  PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling).

Dizzy Dennis kept going at me all morning long in short bursts. I got the waste bag sorted out and started prepping the veg to go in with Josies Chilli meal. Chopped leeks, carrots and peas.

Opened the can of Chilli and started adding the cooked vegetables. Put them in the saucepan and add squid vinegar (liquid salt), chilli powder, Worcester sauce, and malt vinegar. After testing the flavour, I can add gravy salts and tomato puree with basil.

Herbert is noisy again. Bloody Sundays and weekends, he’s always the same!

I visited the Porcelain Throne. A good job that the carer was so late because I must have been in the half-an-hour at least. Most of the time was spent cleaning and clearing up. Trotsky Terence was in charge again. You wouldn’t believe the amount of loo roll used! Tsk!

Got a good wash and showering done, I felt a bit better then. Coming out of the wet room, I got through the door, and by the fairer without a knock, shoulder slamming or toe stubbing.

A new carer came in without ringing the buzzer-chime, and of course, I didn’t hear her coming. Sarah, she’s not been before. Nice gal, but she didn’t take the waste bag with her, no problem. I can do that later with the next one to go. No problemo! Well, as long as Vascular Dementia Doreen lets me remember. Hehehe!

The photos went on through the card reader!!!! So I got the old ones on. Yesterday one here first. The state of the ankles as I came out from the shower yesterday. Not painful nor itchy, although they did later.

These on the right are what they looked like after this morning’s session at ablutioning. Not any different, really. Or are they, and Cataract Kathleen has missed something?

A morning photographicalisation from the kitchenette next. The bright sunshine on my face made it impossible to take a good one.

My evening, well, was the only meal of the day. Potato slices baked, tomatoes, crap tasting sugar snap peas. And gorgeous mushroom pate on a couple of baps. Taste Rating: 8.8/10!

These two were taken with a sort of foggy haze in the air. After seeing them, I thought they had a kind of gentle quality to them. That’s not what I mean, but as close to what I can explain. Peaceful, tranquil, they made me feel free from strife… of course, that didn’t last for long. But a good sensation while it lasted… I’m now awaiting the arrival of the next Whoopsiedangleplop. I pressed on with updating and posting the Saturday bog to WordPress. The Facebooking, WP Reader, and some WP comments are to read and reply to.

Herbert’s cacophony of banging, clanging and grinding noises continues.

A wee-wee, and back to the photos. I took this shot from the balcony. RVD (Red-Van-Man) is back, but the small red car has taken up his beloved parking spot on the yellow no-parking lines. Hahaha!

Time to start checking on and serving up Josie’s nosh now. On my way to the kitchen, ♫Oh, Susan♫ chimed out from the doorbell? Josie came to tell me that she was going out to a restaurant with her sister and didn’t need the meal! Well, blow me, fancy letting me know half an hour before I deliver the meal! But let’s face it, it’s much better than five minutes. Hehehe!

She said she could collect it tonight on her way home. So, I said I’ll put it in a big jar to let it cool, then you can place the container into your fridge; that’ll be two chillies to use later on. Josie added, “She’s (Her sister) has only just called me to let me know”.

Herbert just dropped something this time; it sounded heavy. I gave him a gentle tap on the piping with my walking stick. Not that it will do anything to help me get some peace. He is the most equanimous, unforthcoming, stand-offish person I’ve ever met. Superior Shithouse!

“Clunk, thud, ratattattatat!” That serves me right for getting annoyed. Then I kept getting scratching-like and knocking noises. I’m so sorry, Sir Herbert!

Two chilli meals in the container and some treats for Josie when she gets back from the meal with her Sister at the restaurant. I’ll get mine (meal) started now, then see if owt is on the TV cause the computer problems are driving me mad! (Of course, there are many other reasons, Haha!)

I put the potatoes and vegetarian burger in the oven, peas in the pan, chopped some mini tomatoes and got the TV on for half an hour while the burger and spuds baked. And put the TV on. To find the Ladies Cup Final was showing, and I got deeply into it, so interested that I forgot all about the cooking!

I fumbled out of the £300 second-hand, decrepit, c1968 recliner, got Walter the Wooden Walking Stick, and into the kitchenette. I nervously opened the oven door… The ‘bake for 30 minutes’ food had been in for nearly an hour!

The breadcrumbed veggie burger did not look appealing at all. It felt very hard. As expected, the potatoes were overdone; some of them, the smaller ones, were inedible and had to be thrown. Yet I ate all of it! Enjoyed it too! The burgers left in the fridge will get overcooked; it was firm and delicious! The spuds were tough to eat, and no doubt damaged a few of my remaining teeth, but it all tasted grand! Flavour Rating: 8/10! I hope Duodenal Donald and Harold’s Haemmorhoids can cope with it, and I get no toothache! Hahaha!

Cara Sara arrived, again not ringing the chime and giving me a shock when she entered the room. But a lovely surprise, she is tall, young, beautiful and charming. (Dang to old age! Har-har!)

Sweet Morpheus was again resistant to my requests for shut-eye! But, when he permitted me to nod off, I slept through without any jolting awakes for just under six hours! Great!

Friends Comments when I got shot (First-Time)

“Oh, yer?” An old schoolmate by the name of Elgin,
“Could ‘ave been anyone!” fellow security officer Kathryn,
“Tell me another!” My neighbour in Sherwood, Glyn,
“Shit!” I forget his name, Welsh lad from Abergynolwyn,
“Serves yer right!” The supervisor at control called Kelvin,
“Why?” An old passion of mine, a big gal named Roslyn,
“I wunt du yoor job!” Traffic Warden, called Edwin,
“Tommy rot, yer tit!” Richard, but we called him Dick Turpin,
“Will yer be off work?” Manager, we all called him Fagin!
From the hospital, they sent me back to the site again…
“Can yer drive yersen there, course you can!”… Fagin!
“You can’t claim off of us!” Site manager, on arriving…

Evening All!

Inchcock Today: Off to the EENT Hospital

Escape from the flats to the hospital

Got lost twice, forgot I’d got no trousers on… Oh, dearie me!

A Tale of Inchcock’s Day (Five Hours), Out on Tuesday

After another ever-waking-up night’s lack of sleep, I woke and was about to launch into a state of blaspheming Sweet Morpheus’s reluctance to let me stay asleep. Fed-uppedness, niggardlyness, and a smidge of feeling sorry for myself.

But, Dementia Doreen allowed me to remember about the hospital visit today, and the bitterness dissipated, to be replaced by a remarkably determined Inchcock, who set about getting all the things needed for the hospital visit. (Fair enough, he did forget some items, Humph! I felt almost reborn… not the proper terminology, but close.

I waited until it was late enough, and then I decided to get the ablutions done. What a great session! There were only two tiny cuts shaving, one clouting the head against the power box when I bent to retrieve the loofah I’d dropped in the shower. Great! That was it Whoopsie and Accifauxpas wise.

Naturally, something had to go wrong after that wonderful start to the day. Gragnangles! I sorted out suitable things to wear, got the risky job done first, and put the diabetic bamboo socks on. The comfortable-wearing long ones.

But I had to use Sock-Glide-Glenda. True to form, I trapped my fingers twice, the same ones, of course, on each sock. That thick plastic gripper is deadly! I got a welt and a couple of bruises as well. But this did not put me off cause I intended to do my best to get the go-ahead with cataract operations, and after a couple of mild oaths, I carried on and went to gather the other needs of the morning.

Comfortable shoes, trousers, jumper, and the sleeveless jacket with all the pockets in it. It’s lasted a long time this one, I said to myself, as I got the camera (not much chance to use it though, Tsk!) and emptied the pockets to place the needed items for the trip…

Oh, ‘ecky thump! After emptying things out to make room, and started to put the paperwork, keys and the Crossword book in the jacket… They each fell right through and dropped on the floor at my feet! What’s going on here, I muttered! I went into Sherlock Holmesian Mode (I do that sometimes).

  The entire lining had seemed to go rotten! Only one of the twelve pockets was useable! Undeterred, I limped into the hallway to see if those hanging up had fared better. Two of them had not, and they joined the blue one in the extra-large bin bag! Humph! I checked the khaki one’s pockets. All seemed okay, so I swapped the emptied contents in that jacket. Got the PP’s, trousers and best jumper on.

I realised that Carer Richard was due shortly, so I thought I’d better check I’d not left anything on the floor in the hallway for him to trip over; he’s a good lad.

Guess what? In my haste, I stubbed my toe on the towel airer, lost balance, and was entangled with the tipped-over airer and towel on the floor! With new welts on various parts of my knee, head and face! Unglefrogwonglingisations! I later found that I’d broken a tooth as well. My spirits were getting a little lower than they were earlier. Cor, blimey!

I worked on finishing the blog, and the ♫Oh Susana♫ tune belted out from the doorbell. I expected to see Richard come in, but no! Another… I’d not unlocked the door!!! So all that pain and hassle was for nothing! I had left some stuff on the floor on the plus side and was pleased to move them if Richard did a Whoopsie of his own on them.

I went to admit the lad; he was alright about things. He soon got on with the medicationing for me. With a wry smile on his mush at my antics, forgetting to unlock the door, the marks on my face and head etc… We both saw the funny side. Hahaha!

I finished changing and was ready for when the lift arrived to get me to the ophthalmology clinic.

The door chime rang again; the door was unlocked, but whoever it was didn’t come in. It was Josie returning her dish and tray from her Sunday lunch. She did not say she liked it… Oh, dear! At least she didn’t say there was something she didn’t like about it?

The intercom rang and flashed – Aha, it was the ambulance lift. I told the man I’d come down, saving them the bother of coming all the way up then down again.

I made my way out of the apartment and down and out through the main lobby. Two ambulance men? Perhaps they’d heard stories about me? Hahaha!

The journey was uncomfortable, but all of the old ambulances I’ve been in were. So I anticipated it.

When we arrived, friendly and slowly driven, at the Queens Medical Centre, both lads came with me to the ophthalmology department waiting room.

Then took me to the waiting area. I could not hear anything the receptionist said, and one of the men translated for me. I realised then that I’d not put the crossword book in the coat or walker trolley. Shame that, cause it’s the only book I can read the clues on at the moment.

So I sat there, nosing at all around me. Bored rigid! But it didn’t take long for a lovely, attractive young lady to call my name out – but I didn’t hear it at first, and the gal took the bother to come and ask me, Hehe!

She led me to a small room with many machines for an ophthalmology-specific procedure. The blast in the eyes and many tests were patiently done on the beads. Deep family history was gone into, and about an hour later, I was returned to the waiting area to await being called by the Ophthalmologist.

During my wait to be summoned, I learned a lot, such as the lady in a cream coat is having smoked haddock for supper tonight. The man and woman and an elderly pair do not like the TV cookery programmes other than Gordon Ramsay’s. A lady in a uniform but not a nurse or medical one was annoyed when someone phoned her. I could not hear the other natterings, the acoustics are not good in a big hall. Hehe!

The Ophthalmologist lady came for me and led me to an even smaller room this time. Heck of a lot of examining and questions were gone through.

With Peripheral Neuropathy, I had trouble keeping my chin on the plastic thingamabob and had to look up all the time. The lady was not impressed or amused. She had to keep starting whatever she was doing again. I don’t think I was very popular at all. I did explain my conditions when I went in.

The eyes were tested using a log mar chart. In-depth history and current problems with sight. The Doctor knew what she was doing alright, it seemed to me. But I had to keep asking her to repeat things. Very quietly spoken lass.

I guesstimated about an hour later, and she gave me her diagnosis. Cataracts in the right eye only would be done; although you have cataracts in that left eye, they are not as bad as the right one. We’ll see how you are going with it when this operation is done before tackling glaucoma. She will refer me to the surgeon, 12-week an average waiting time.

During my appointment, she’d noticed Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and my right-leg dance. She was concerned because of the delicate nature of the operation. Even seeing in one eye sees is better than none. It can only be done with no movement from the patient at all! This doesn’t bode well! Nevertheless, I was ticked pink at it going ahead.

I was told to go to the main reception to arrange a lift home. I didn’t expect a lift back, so I was even more gee’d up now.  I was feeling perkier now.

But I was soon back in my typical frame of mind, feeling a bit of a fool! I could not remember where the main reception was. I set off, trying to retrace my earlier route in reverse, and ended up in a room that looked like it had many babies all over the place? I withdrew hastily! Found someone to ask where the main eye clinic reception was located. And realised it was one of the receptionists I couldn’t hear talking a few hours ago when I arrived. Hahaha!

Anyway, I found it, and I had the job of hearing what the gal at the counter was saying again. She scowled at me and pointed in the direction of a two-seater settee in the corner near the door. “I’ve to wait there, then?” I think she almost clapped when she realised I’d got the message. She put a thumb up for me! Har-har!

I don’t know how long they were coming, but I was glad they were. When Richard arrived, he was cheerful enough. Then I made yet another cock-up…

By pure luck, I took a right turn and found my way to the outer door, seeing the two men looking for me! I couldn’t keep up with the chap and lost him and my direction again! Now I did feel like a complete idiot!

They got me inside and buckled in and went to get another patient from across the roadway. No problem. While they were out, I got my Canon camera and took some photo’s inside the ambulance. The first one is through the window on the back of the driver’s cab (above). Then one through the top side windows. At least I got a few photographs on my trip out, my escape from the flat.

Finally, one of the side doors and my beloved, makes-me-feel-safe three-wheeler walker. No patient came with them. So we set off for Sherwood and Woodthorpe Court independent living flats!

We were soon back at the flats after a carefully driven journey. The lads refused a treat of the cans in thanks from my bag. Ah, well!

But I wanted to make a start on this blog, which I did. I got in the flat, had a wee-wee, got the kettle on, got my trousers off, cut up, and cubed some potatoes to do in the oven. After an hour or so, the floor chime burst forth again…

To my utter surprise, it was the Evening Carer Nichola… no, sorry, Natalie. My inner clock had gone all pear-shaped with the visit to the clinic. After she’s been here a few minutes, I realised that I had no trousers on!

I apologised hastily when I realised; it must have been a terrible sight for her. We managed a laugh about it, but I felt awful and openly cursed Dementia Doreen! Embarrassment, shame, self-loathing and feeling an almighty, right a proper twit, all flourished!

Worked on this blog. (I did get it finished) I’ll do this in the morning (Now). I was up late, and when I realised it was gone midnight, I was getting fed up with myself.

I concentrated on getting some much-needed food and made myself a quick meal. A can of the wonderful-tasting Morrison’s saver chilli con carnie and some potato cubes did them in the oven, to crisp them a little. A simple and cracking meal! It could have been because I was ravenous and tired and frustrated. I added only liquid salt and a splash of Worcester sauce and vinegar for the potatoes. I gave this effort a mammoth flavour rating of 9.2/10! Really enjoyed it!

The mess that I made making the potatoes, and doing the washing up, soon brought me back down to earth. Hehehe!

Review of the Day – In Odes

Sweet Morpheus didn’t allow me much sleeping…
Throughout the night, I would wake up jumping!
But I did remember, today, the EENT hospital visiting…
The best session for weeks, the ablutioning…
The Porcelain Throne visit was messy and paining…
I forgot to unlock the door; the Carer couldn’t get in…

A stubbed toe fell over the airer, got entangled within,
Sock-Glide-Glenda left me with cuts, bruises, hands and shin!
Emptied my jacket, things fell out, on the floor dropping…
The inner lining had apparently been rotting!

Took me hours to sort another coat out,
And swap things around the pockets…
Got it sorted and dressed to look smart…
Almost forgot to put the drops in the eye sockets…

Then the ambulance arrived, and I was soon in…
Thanks, to them, for to the hospital were driving…
The receptionist, I could not hear talking…
Some advised me of what they were saying…
Then to another waiting room, I was soon going…

First examination in-depth, the lady was engaging…
Back to the waiting room, results awaiting…
Got the okay, then moved to another area of seating…
Had a chat with a lady who was fortysomething…

The second exam, even deeper, by a lady appealing…
Eye drops were applied, and my head was reeling…
Back to the waiting room, I did some earwigging…
Awaiting being called back for assessing…

More tests on a machine and blinking…
I smiled and gave the lady some blinking…
But I didn’t get any return acknowledging…

To the Main Reception, to get a lift home, I was pleased!
But Dementia Doreen sent the memory adrift…
I got lost en route; I panicked and wheezed…
Felt a fool, ashamed and almost had a tift!

Found the reception, a stranger helped translate,
Sit in that chair (pointing) and for your transport wait…
So I did and didn’t have long to wait…
A driver came, said, follow me, mate…

I tried to follow him, but he walking relatively swift…
Chasing after him gave me a glift, boy, could he shift…
I lost him and got a bit miffed…
Panicked a bit and gave a little snift…
But found him outside, looking a bit squiffed…

Got home and lost all sense of timing…
The mind felt like it was abseiling…
Took my clothes off, nice and cooling,
Started with the day’s blogging…
Along came the evening Carer; I was welcoming…
Until I realised I had no trousers on, and started scaring!
Felt like an idiot, started self-caterwauling,
Embarrassed, ashamed, frustrating!

Well gone midnight got some nosh cooking,
Canned chill and potatoes, no casseroling,
Then turned my attention to sleeping…
Dreamed about Jillie and me, canoodling…
I think I started sweating and drooling…
A mortifyingly humiliating day, disconcerting!

The Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe

Inchcock Today: Monday 2nd May 2022

INCHCOCK TODAY

Monday 2nd May 2022

Hehehe! Managed to get some photos loaded at last! Of course, remember which was taken when and why… will primarily be up to Doreen Dementia. So it’s likely to have a bit of guesstimating.

This would have been taken somewhere around, or close to Friday, or maybe Saturday morning. I’d guesstimate, judging by the sun’s placement, coming from the rear of the flats, leaving a shadow, about 07:00hrs?

Possibly Friday evening’s meal. I remember making this little feast because it was the first time I tried those savoury fries. They were delivered on Friday (I think)… see that? I can sometimes remember things, and others not! The sourdough veggie-beef sarnies were lovely; the gherkins and tomatoes went down well with some butter. The fries were a little disappointing; not a lot of taste. A strawberry cheesecake and mini cake rounded things off nicely. Flavour-Rating 7/10.

On Saturday (Mayhaps), the blood pressure was one of the best ever! The SYS at 128. DIA 65, the pulse is low, but not enough for any concern, at 75. The wee-weeing had eased off a little as well.

My Chinese (Hong Kong) was made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer came up trumps; with a temperature of35.3°c. The highest it’s been for many a month!

I found some strange botches on the legs when it came to doing the Phorpain Gelling on Saturday (?).

Of course, nothing new, but the legs have been so good for so long that I was surprised at this. Whatever they were, the purple patches appeared to be pretty fresh.

However, the normal state of the leg veins, with the superficial venous thrombosis (phlebitis), chronic venous insufficiency (CVI), iliac veins, femoral vein, saphenous vein, and popliteal veins, just seem to have disappeared under the folds of flesh? The tibial veins could not even be seen? Mind you, Cataract Kathleen, Glaucoma Glenda and Saccades Sandra, might be affecting my vision, I suppose.

I had a treat on Saturday; oh, yes, I did! I made some of the cheesy baked potatoes, the first I’ve made in a long time. It could, well should have been a higher score, but I overdid the buttering, which marred things. Taste Rating 8.5/10.

And with no stab wounds, cuts or injuries at all! I saved three halves of the delicious but over cheesy buttered potatoes for supper! Mmm! And boy, was I glad I did later on when I warmed them in the microwave…

Then I decided I’d make some more on Sunday, with the last Leicester cheese.

I was on the verge of going into a Smug-Mode… and I made a mess of bending down to pick up some cutlery I’d dropped while doing the washing up. I tumble forwards, banging into the fridge-freezer, and the pots and jars on top of it came tumbling down, as the machine quaked with having my flabby weight hit it! So I had to rewash them as well! Humph!

Hey-Ho! Serves me right! Since then, I’ve had a nagging discomfort in the lower back.

Getting settled for the night, I decided to look at the end car park from the balcony, and I took this picture on the left. Hehehe! Red-Van-Man’s lousy parking is getting to the other tenants now.

The evening Carer was Cheeky Charlie (If I recall correctly). Always pleased to see her, and she gives me a little natter each time, Bless her! ♥

The evening’s kip was full of waking ups with a jump. At least I did get off to kip pretty soon, though, so I shouldn’t complain too much. IT felt terrible on Sunday morning, though, as if I’d not had any time with Sweet Morpheus!

All went well. Only two nicks shaving!

Ah, much better this time; I reckon that Trotsky Terence is losing his grip on the innards, at last. A bit messy, so cleaning and sanitising were needed after the evacuation.

Colin Cramps gave me a right nasty pasting in the left foot as I came out into the kitchen! I took a snap of it; you can clearly see Colin’s grip on the toes? Huh! He doesn’t often attack during the day. He does every night, in the legs, feet, toes, hands or wrist, so often I rarely mention it nowadays; just take it as usual.

I started to prep Josies chilli-con-carne. Chilli, Light soy sauce, sea salt, chilli and salt mixture and beef seasoning. Then went on the computer for about three hours and forgot all bout it on the hob! I chopped the leeks and mushrooms, ready to go in later, got the beans and meat in the saucepan on low light, and added her favourite seasoning.

The meal was ruined, and I had a job to salvage the saucepan to use again! It took ages to get things sorted, and then I had to start again from the beginning!

I felt like a right idiot! Tosspot! Still, Doreen’s Dementia will not be denied. All I could do was pretend I wasn’t bothered, hoping that she could tell, and it pissed her off a bit, too!

What seemed like a month later, I’d got the second Sunday nosh sorted, put it for Josie and got it on the tray with the usual selection of nibbles and treats for her. At least it tasted good… well, to me anyway. I delivered it at the regular time to Josie’s door, 12:00hrs. To my surprise, she said she didn’t expect it with it being Bank Holiday. Doreen seems to have got us both in her grip… Hahaha! I’ve never failed to deliver her meal, whatever Sunday it was.

Although I tell a fib there. I did deliver it on a Saturday a couple of weeks ago when Doreen had convinced me it was Sunday. Hehe! I like doing it for her, it is getting harder, but I’ve no intention of stopping yet! IT WAS MISSED when I had the stroke, but as soon as I got back to the flat, it was served up every Sunday again.

Oh, heck, I’m back in the high red zone again! SYS at 161, DIA 69, and the pulse at 75. The body temperature thermometer recorded a decent 34.0°c. I’ve had worse, a lot worse. It’s the past four all being so low that caught me out.

I served up my planned cheesy baked spuds with some crispy onions. By gum, did I enjoy them… yes I did! Hehe! I didn’t overdo the butter this time, and they were much better than yesterday’s tasted. Flavour Rating: 8.9/10!

Monday: The sleep was even worse than Saturday night was! I just could not nod off! Turned the lights off, lulled the bobble-hat over my eyes, and fought with the Thought Storms… all to no avail! So I put the TV on if I want to watch something that can sometimes help me sleep.

But not last night. I found a film that I fancied watching, with Will Smith and Geoff Goldblume, and I watched it all the way through, over two hours! I was telling Carer Richard about it, he didn’t have much time cause he had another call to make. He told me it was Independence Day, as I could not remember. Sad, innit?

Grobbleknob and Knackleboings! I can’t win with these flipping Blood Test thingamajigs! SYS is even higher now than it was Sat and Sunday.

I wonder why this is? There will be a reason. Bound to be… However, this has often happened before. Last time it shot up for two days, then suddenly dropped?

I took another snap of the end car park at the end of Chestnut Way. Haha! I can’t tell if Red-Van-Man had moved, but the imitators, three of them, are getting scared of the white lines.

An odd occurrence with the waste bin near the computer desk. I threw away a used tissue, and it bounced right out from the bottom of the container? I had to get down on my knees to retrieve it from under the c1963 cabinet. I did so with only discomfort, no pain. Casually threw the tissue back in the waste bin, and… bugger me, it did it again! Another ferret under the wood had to use the picker-upperer this time to reach it, and to avoid everything odd that happens three times in a row scenario, I took it to the kitchenette bin. All part of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind? Hahaha!

I took a snap through the part open balcony door. It looked nothing like this picture came out. Another mystery?

No, I doubt it. Probably due to the eye problems and, of course, my life-long struggle with achromatopsia,

The evening Carer should be here soon; time to get something to eat.

Here it is. A flavour rating of 7/10 was given. I soon got gesticulating and ate it all up.

Then the problem of getting to sleep was tackled. I had to put the TV on, which worked; I nodded off at the first set of commercials. But the springing awake with an annoying body and mind jerking jump began, repeatedly. No thought storms, though?

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

Inchcock v Alto – The Suicide Discussion

“Oi, pay attention, Inchcock; it’s your devoted, friendly, happy-go-lucky Alto-Ego here. Bringing you news and a…

Eh, erum… Oh, Sod-Off!

That’s nice, innit! I’ve come to warn you of the explosions in the gut, and all yer do is get antisocial wiv me?

Well, that’s cause I’m sitting here on the Porcelain Throne for the ninth time today, coping with the eruptions mentioned above in my stomach! You’re a little late in telling me…

Don’t get nasty turd-face, no need for insults! Anyway, if you want to nit-pick, I said explosion, not eruption, so there! Haha! I got here as fast as I could…

For an Alto who claims to have been in existence for thousands of years, you are very childish at times, mate… What were you doing in the guts anyway?

Obvious innit?

No!

Why do they keep sending me to thicko-idiots to threaten and get depressed? If yer must know, I was checking yer body for any new signs of ailment, injuries or the likes…

What for… No, no, don’t tell me… It’s so you can worry, annoy and depress me, innit?

Oh, yes, clever clogs! An’ I did it too! See? Your Blood Pressure has shot up, spittle is building in yer throat, and you’re in agony with trots… I bet Haemorrhoid Harold is bleeding as well?

Yea, putting it that way, you’re nearly right...

Owd on… nearly right? How am I not spot-on then, freckle-balls?

It proved yer lied when you first disturbed me.

You coffin-seeker! Lied, ruggish! Everyfing I say is John-Bull and Cosher!…

Yer? Like, “It’s your devoted, friendly, happy-go-lucky Alto-Ego here? Devoted, friendly, you? You are an unwanted blight on me mentality!

Well, thank you very much; I appreciate that. It proves that I’m doing my job successfully and adequately: “Assure at all times that your client is DFF; Depressed, Frustrated, in Pain. For extra Alto points, you human having suicidal tendencies a minimum of once a day…” “Achieving an 80% success rate is required” – Now that’s in the Alto-Ego job description!

So?

I proved I have the credentials for promotion…

How can you get a promotion when I’m yours, and you are mine? What did you call it? Client or human? You’ve already said you’re stuck with me, so what kind of promotion can you get clever clogs?

Gawd, you’re thick as a pancake with hebetude! When you kick the bucket, snuff it, I might be moved on to a politician, bank director or even Putin. Then…

Putin?

Yer that’d be cushty. We had a bit of a drawback with Putin, never been known before, but his Alto-Ego went mad. He’s had to be delisted. No doubt he’ll be moved to some war immigrant in another country. Putin with me by his side could rule the planet… not that it’s got much time left, mind you…

 Has it not? I expected as much...

Crap! You’re too thick to work owt out, Inchcock; you’ve been reading Billum’s blog, ain’t yer…

Well, yes, and he’s dead right...

You’ll be the dead one, Fungle-Knob: although I’ve not worked out the best way to nobble yer yet. I’ve thought about getting into Putin’s brain; just think of it…

Hang on, I’m getting confused here…

Nothing new there, dog-breath…

Can we start again?

Oh, so now yer want to converse with me? You want to make your feeble, befuddled mini-mind up! Dumbo!

You said you can’t hurt your human?

Oh yer, right, but only physically, now mentally, is another matter. And being as you are already halfway to being bonkers, discussions like these will soon tip you over the edge, and hey-presto, you’ll be dead, and I can put my bid in to be sent to Mr Putin, see… easy!

How are you planning to top me then?

I’m glad yer asked me brain-dead. I see there are three possible options.

One: You’ll get a heart attack from hearing the truth from me…

Two: You’ll do the decent thing and swig a litre of chlorinated bleach and drink it with ten Beta-blockers, Warfarins, and a good swig of liquid Codeine. I know they are regulated, but if you can time it for when you just get the prescriptions delivered, I advise you to take the whole packet of Morphine sulfate to be safe. Then stick all the remaining Enoxaparin Injections into your belly. (Not that it will matter where now). Then open the balcony window, make sure no one is below… No, no! Better not dive out of the window; with your eyesight, there may be someone on the pavement to crush when you land, and that’s not fair. Just stick with the bleach, medications and injections; they should do the job efficiently.

Three: you will have one of your tumbles when the neurotransmitter nerve-ends fail, and you fall forwards, trip over yer walking stick on the way down, and crack yer head a good belt on the sharp corner of the end counter… you’ll basically bleed to death, and be found the following day by a Carer, who after clearing out any valuables, will call the paramedics, but you be declared dead in your kitchenette floor, probably around 08:33hrs tomorrow. Oddly enough, your prescription delivery day, Hehehe! Well, you asked, you gormless dunderhead, Hahaha!

Thanks, I did ask, didn’t I? Well, that’s honest enough, Alto. Although I’m a little concerned at your going into great detail on option two? Suicide. It sounds to me like this is your favoured route to my demise?

Well, it’s the least bother for me, and I can shoot off and go Putin-hunting straight away. I’ll make my report first, of course. Should you plump for committing Hari-Kari, I promise I’ll make a good praising report of you and your actions to the Alto-Ego Controller. They don’t get many of those; I think Florence Nightingale was the last human to get one. You could live in fame in your death, mate!

I could live in fame in my death?’ Somehow, that doesn’t sound very attractive to me at the moment…

Ah, that’s cause you are temporarily not frustrated or depressed. That’s thanks to me, see. Bringing good news and advice to you again… Giving you thoughts that grabbed your attention and shooed away destructive emotions. I really hope you go for the choice to autodarwinate. It makes the most sense all around…

 Maybe for you, but not for me…

Whyever not, Numbskull? I’m sure you are going to say that Altos can’t die, so have no idea what it’s like?

  No, but that’s a good point; what’s your answer to your own question then?

Oh, dearie me, my ugly duckling. Is it not so obvious what I was referring to? I shall miss you your ignorance, unknowingness, innocence, duality, absent-mindedness, scepticism, ambivalence, and lack of sophistication when I’ve moved on… thankfully!

No!

Oh, you dense creature! What power I have given you…

Wot power ‘ave you given me?

How many people have the knowledge of when they are going to die?

How do I know? You’re bamboozling me again…

No, Knuckle-Mouth! I’m empowering you. You can pick your timing to take the suicide route, lock the door to prevent any interruptions, and just resign yourself to the nothingness that will follow, a certainty within minutes… minutes of pain, yes. Still, you will be well prepared for that, having led a pain-ridden emotional and physical life, so what does a couple of minutes of further pain mean to you? Nothing! No ailments, no food orders to get wrong, substituted items, nothing to forget or learn, no crime, no emotional topsy-turvy; a state of utter bliss is death! Which is where you will be going, mate – into nothingness – no noisy neighbour above you, no rent, tax or fuel prices rising to fret over.

Inchcock & Alto-Ego, launch into Q&A Odeing Mode…

  You keep harking back to suicide.

That is for you, my Button-Willy, to decide!

But will life never be indemnified?

Not until your death is verified!

Suicide? All my hopes will be pulverised,

Which is better than being lobotomised!

My friends will miss me, far and wide…

Friends, you? Now your telling porky-pies!

This conversation is like Morecome and Wise!

Death can be a pleasure, do you realise?

I’m not so sure… it’s a sacrifice?

In death, there’ll be no one who vilifies?

My ailment, all gone, pain defies…

Freedom, nothing left to visualise!

So, Covid has gone; no need to immunise?

You must get your thoughts strategised!

The thought of nothing does tantalise…

Alto sensed Inchcocks resistance to suicide weakening…

That’s the spirit, Inchcock, my old fruit…

Hold a minute, just wait...

Indeed, my old cocker, you take your time…

Take me time? What in or at?

Choosing which way to die…

I’m not sure how we got into discussing suicide?

Well, you wanted to know the best way to do it.

I did?

Yes, plan B you went for…

Plan B?

Yes, you decided you’ll do the decent thing and swig a litre of chlorinated bleach and drink it with ten Beta-blockers, Warfarins, and a good swig of liquid Codeine. (I know they are regulated, but if you can time it for when you just get the prescriptions delivered, you to take the whole packet of Morphine sulfate to be safe.) Then stick all the remaining Enoxaparin Injections into your belly.

Are you sure I chose this way and agreed?

Course you did Snot-Head, and it makes common sense, my friend! And once you’ve succeeded in suiciding, there’ll be no more painful battles with Trotsky Terence or Constipation Konrad! Now, this must be worth topping yourself for?

You really thought I was going to do it, didn’t you?

Well, yes! Are you not going to?

Too bloody true I ain’t going to.

Gragnangles! But I’ll be back!

Inchcock on the Throne realised Alto had truly flit…
He finished his evacuation, messy, but just a bit,
Pondered over suicide, blaming Alt-Inchie, the shit!
Putting it into my mind, a disgusting gambit!

All a part of Alto & Inchies’ mutual brinksmanship…
A strange sort of unwanted mental partnership,
Full of insults, bullying and unsportsmanship,
Alto’s getting nasty, pretending to be a prophet?

If he expects Gerry to top himself, there’s a blip…
Even suggesting it shows Alto’s unsportsmanship,
Suicide? No, he’d instead favour the opposite,
Even living with ailments and a financial deficit!

More critical now, Harold’s Haemorrhoids do bleed,
He cleans things, ointmentates, & takes some hempseed,
It’ll be painful; he mustn’t hesitate and proceed…
Agonisingly he did, then he wee-wee’d…

He turned his attention to what to self-feed,
From his fridge and freezer, he took a swede…
Leeks, mushrooms, tomatoes and bread, just a snead,
Prepped and got them cooking; it smelt good indeed.

Off to the wet room. where he passed wind and pee’d,
Settled in his recliner, he nodded off; he was so pleased,
Woke two hours later, surprised yet frustrated…
At the smell of burnt food, he recognised!

All his vegetables had been pureed!
Burnt potatoes, uneatable, he had to concede…
A Whoopsiedangleplop, he just didn’t need…
He cleaned the mess to the bucket he pee’d!

The meal he ate for dinner was not one of his best…
A can of peas, an out-of-date vegetarian duck breast,
The whole meal went in the bin, top join the rest…
Which annoyed him, and he began to get stressed!

Thought-Storms stopped him from getting to sleep…
His life, he began to despise and threap…
Suicide? Not a failure living, even in this muckheap…
His life is not good, but living he wants to keep,

Though he passes evacuations, the liquid then concrete…
Has cataracts, is deaf, tumbles over, and has terrible feet…
There are times when he finds life semi-sweet,
Screw Alto; his life is not yet over or complete!

He vows to ignore Alto-Ego, on his next visit…
Alto’s intrusions, he’ll try his best to prohibit…
He belched; the extruding wind tasted like horseshit,
Inchcock pondered, is it me or Alto, that’s the eejit?

Dizzy Dennis called; his head felt as if it was in orbit…
Thoughts coming so fast, he can’t cope, dagnabit!
He thinks this is becoming a nightly habit…
And he had Alto to return, the nasty dipshit!

But this time, Inchcock was determined, not frit…
He decided to keep up his flagging spirit…
Amidst words like Grongletits and Gawdammit!
He got up and this Ode he writ…
Hoping Alto stays in his pit!

Part of Inchcocks Make Them Laugh Series

Inchcock Today: Thursday 28th April 2022

Thursday 28th April 2022

I thought, but I was wrong!

After a terrible, almost sleepless night, I burst into life with a jump, and I soon realised Little Inchies Fungal Lesion was bleeding, I wanted a wee-wee, and the innards were rumbling away something awful. I thought this was a fine kettle of fish to greet the day… Worse was to come…

As I climbed out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously hideously beige coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner, and got to my feet to catch my balance – I missed it, for it wasn’t there, and lurched backwards into the chair.

Leaving myself in a bit of a pickle… I needed the wee-wee, could feel the warm wetness in the PPs from the lesion, and there I was, struggling to get back up from the sharp landing on my bum, and felt Harold Haemorrhoids bleeding. Now as well! I fumbled out of the recliner again, the balance was still wrong, I got Metal Mickey (the three-pronged walking stick) and made way ASAP to the wet room. Naughty foul language was being muttered en route! Took a reluctant sprinkly wee-wee first.

Heck of a long job, but I cleaned things up, medicated Harold’s Haemorrhoids with Germoloid ointment, and used Daktacort cream on Little Inchies Fungal Lesion. The most painful of all the ailments to clean and medicate! Argh! But it has to be done.

How often it happens, the moment the piles have been cleaned and ointmentated, the need for Porcelain Throne follows. Grrr!

It’s a good job that I got up early all the same. Because the evacuation was the same as yesterday, under the control of Constipation Konrad! Solid, unwilling, and a giant torpedo when it eventually came out! . I set too on the crossword and finished it ultimately. T’was nothing to a man of my calibre! I finished one in 1972 as well… Mind you, I sat there for over an hour in hopes that the half-in, half-out situation with the rear end would flow again. Humph!

I decided to get the ablutions done as I was already in there. Mind you too early for a shower; the noise would wake the late sleepers. Things felt a bit better after that.

The shaving left me with.. wait for it… just one teeny-weeny cut. Another !

I got dressed in the day clothes. Then got the new slippers out of the packing bag. It took me a while to get them back into a shoe shape, suffice for me to get them on the feet. Warm, comfortable, cheap, they’ll do for me. Chinese made, not surprisingly – the stitching had started to split already, after three minutes of use.

Then started updating the Wednesday blog. I made a brew of Glengettie tea, tasty! But the balance let me down a little later when I visited the bucket for my fourth wee-wee, I don’t know how I did it, I held onto the bucket as I fell to the ground on one knee, without having any spillages?

MedPhorpain I got the Phorpain gel out, and I gave the knee a good massage and ointmented it. Cleared things up, emptied, cleaned and sanitised the bucket, and got back to the blog updating, it’ll be a long job, and the shakes were back again. In fact, I was having a double-visit from Shaking Shaun and Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, as carer Richard arrived. I think it fritted him for a second. It did me, and I’m used to them. Hahaha!

Ricard pointed out that I was swaying somewhat when I moved, and Metal Mickey was shaking a bit in use. Within minutes of him mentioning it, things improved greatly shaking-wise. I told Richard he should come more often to see me, you bring good luck with you. The lad looked tired again, but not as bad as yesterday. Then I found he was having a day off tomorrow. In fact, he wasn’t working again until Monday, I think he said. Nice chap, I wish I could do more for him. Still, treated him to some bits before he went, I insisted.

I wished him a good sleep, and I closed the door as Richard took out the waste bags, and as I turned to go down the hallway, the balance went out of sync… But let’s face it, it couldn’t have happened in a better place for me! I used both walls as the stick fell, and it was dead easy, too, with the hallway being so narrow! No injuries whatsoever. I brushed my chin against the wall, but no hassle. I felt a little chuffed with myself, smug!

Back to the updating of the blog. What a state I got myself into. I spent hours trying to get the photographs on the system, the card-reader was laughing at me. He even teased me sometimes, my part-loading the photos so I could see some of them, then freezing and coming up with messages “Please put a disc in drive-F. Then I had to wait several times when this repeated;y happened, cause it would not let me close anything. I just had to wait until it closed down of its own accord? Grumph!

Gone lunchtime by the time I got some loaded to use, and I was hours behind with everything else!

Then I checked the Amazon tracker, as the Morrison delivery via Amazon arrived. The driver rang me, but I couldn’t hear anything he was saying, but recognised the voice all the same, cause when he came months ago he left the bags downstairs for me. I said I’d go down, but by the time I got to the front lobby door the shakes were back, no problem with the balance, but Peripheral Neuropathy Pete was trying to give me forced leg dance again… I might have scared the Asian driver a bit, with my jerking antics. Hehehe!  Anyway, although I had no idea what he was saying to me, his facial expressions showed he would not let me carry anything, and we made out way back up to the flat. He took the parcels and put them in the kitchenette for me. Bless him. I started to sort out the fodder. Only a few things for the freezer. Fries, leeks and waffle bites…

Which I can’t say that I can remember ordering… the waffles I mean? Got the frozen bits in the freezer, (it seemed a logical thing to do at the time, Hehe!) Then sorted the items for the fridge, which ended up rather full.

I’d overdone the desserts, and a box of cakes I ordered, apparently, I did not even like. There were no flowers available for Jenny and Francis’ treats, most annoying. But they did send the strawberries for them.

The cupboard foods had a wonderful surprise for me, the ‘Savers’ generic label Chilli Con Carnie was back in stock, not only that, they allowed me to buy five cans!!! This is my favourite of all the brands of chilli that I’ve tried. Soya pieces in place of meat, and tons of beans, all seasoned to my likes. Gorgeous flavour! Now I have something to live for! Hehehe!

I made up two bags on nibbles, sorry about not getting any daffodils for them. Cleaned up from the sorting things out. Took the bags of waste with me, and the bags on the walker, and delivered them. You wouldn’t believe how long it took in the lifts; when I wanted to down others were going up, so I waited for the next lift I don’t know how many times, and visa-versa when I wanted to get back up. No complaints, at least Morrisons had some strawberries for the gals, and I got my beloved cans of chilli again!

I dropped off the waste bag down the chute and made my way back to the flat. During which it dawned on me how few times in the last hours, I’ve needed a wee-wee? Also, the balance had improved… it’s a funny old life!

By the time I got back into the apartment, I realised what time it was. four PM! 16:00hrs! Late afternoon, and I had not even started on this blog yet! Everything takes so much longer to get done nowadays.

I got the blood pressure and temperature taken. While I remembered that it hadn’t been done yet.

Also, I was beginning to worry that I’d forgotten something that had to be done, or whatever today?

Then,  I noticed as I got the things that I needed for the Health Checks gathered together, how leathery the skin looked n my hands… I suppose it should be expected really at my age. Still, I’ve kept onto my face dimples. Hahaha!

Another set of encouraging results today! The body temperature was almost spot-on the ideal target of 35°c. Can’t moan about these figures at all, never had them any better!

The Blood Pressure returns via the sphygmomanometer were good yet again! Creeping back up a little, maybe? Compared to last week end’s Sys of 208, it shot down to 137, then 142, 144, now 147. But it will settle again, I’m sure… Did I just say that? Har-har, we’ll see.

I spent many hours on this blog. The evening carer is due soon, too. I’ve not had owt to eat yer as well! Or should that be either?

I tried to reply to some WP comments. Most successfully, a few failed? I’ve been trying to reply to Tim Price’s comment on Rescued photographs & diary. But keep getting the red box ‘Comment Failed! – try again’ – which I have many times. Well, Tim below is my failed reply:

The best for ages, Tim, well pleased. Not really my choice of photos, Tim… there are the card readers choice, he’s taken to stopping so many from loading, seemingly at random. I need help here. Hahaha!
Cheers, TTFNski.

Also, I cannot answer my beloved petal Lisa. I’ll try again in the morning. Is it WP? The Computer? Me? Or a combination of all three?

Better get some nosh sorted out, then. Got the beans and veggieburgers served up. I took a photo, but the card reader will not let me get at it.

Evening Care called, but I was not in a good condition, and I was confused when she arrived. No recollection of much. Remember seeing her off and locking the door, as she took the waste bag with her.

Sweet Morpheus resistant.

Inchcock Today: Monday 28th March 2022

MONDAY 28th MARCH 2022

In Brief & Ode

Problems a few, well, really quite a load…
Accifauxpas, bleeding, no real Smug-Mode…
Noisy Herbert, getting on my goad…
Memory blanks, mistakes made? A shitload!
I had to look up my own postcode!
The Thought-Storms constantly flowed…
Wee-weeing? The bucket nearly overflowed!
Stabbed myself with a toothbrush up my nose,
Will it get worse, discommode? Nobody knows…
What evils and stupidity Satan may bestow?
I’ll have a mug of tea and a marshmallow!

Haveth a great day!

05:30hrs, the usual jumping awake, with a verbal “Uhrge!” arrived. I pondered a few seconds to check on the time, day and need to activate the brain to join the body into some form of starting.

My hazy and befuddled brain sorted itself out in a fashion, and I decided to get the sphygmomanometerisationing done first thing. The grey plastic was half-filled before I started this slash. By the time I’d escaped the c1966 recliner, the need for a wee-wee had developed. And the urine flowed and splashed at a rate and pace never known before! How I held onto the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), I don’t know. But obviously, I had been wee-weeing throughout the night.

I still can’t work out how someone in my condition can free themselves from the recliner, take the few paces to the bucket, pass water (ferociously!) and get back down again… even once, and yet, not know he’s done it; when he wakes up? Someone must understand this. A psychologist or somebody? Which followed nearly every one of the wee-wees that followed today, and there were dozens of them! No wonder I can feel the dampness in the protection pants of the damned PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling).

There was much handling of things in washing and cleaning; poor Little Inchies’ fungal lesion started bleeding again later on. Humph!

I finally got around to taking the Blood Pressure. A fine set of figures they were too! SIA 144, DIA 48 and Pulse at 72… No, hang on. The DIA’s a good bit low… I’ll check it out.

No, that’s not too bad, only just in the red area anyway. For some reason, the low DIA brought it up overall a smidgeon. I’ve had it a lot worse than that. Last week one day, it was Sys 171, so I’m not fretting.

I used my Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer. The result was a bit higher this time, almost on the target figure of 35!

All went well, apart from the teeth cleaning, which was bloody. Thanks to ailment number eleven, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley. As it did two days ago when she made me drop the mug of Glengettie, her timing was cruelly well-timed. I was about to put the brush in my mouth, and she struck! Despite it being the brush end than entered my nasal channel, it was so fierce that it brought blood. However, it could have been worse, and I soon dried it up. A bit sore now, though, Hehehe!

I started updating yesterday’s blog, and Carer Richard arrived. The poor lad didn’t look too good; he was obviously weary, worn out, tired at the end of his shift. I brought him around a smidgeon with some nattering and a laugh or two, as much as was possible. I think his blood count was low. He said on leaving, he’s going to take his own medicines and get his head down as soon as he gets home. He still had a chinwag, though; I appreciated that from the man. Bade him good luck and health as he left, taking the taste bags with him for me to the chute.

I then spent hours trying to get the Card Reader to work to get the photos on the computer. I was at the limit of my patience and know-how of what else I could try… and wallah! The card suddenly returned to working mode? Although there have been odd, weird times when it tells me the reader is not recognised. So frustrating, I lost hours on the day messing about, turning everything off and back on, the card in and out of the slot… swearing, and at one point, I almost cried!

Eventually, I got the blog finished and posted it off to WordPress. Thank heavens for that!

Time for a mug of Glengettie!

I took these photographs of the view from the kitchenette window. The first one to the left (South), the second down almost straight ahead (East), finally one to the right (North)

I pressed on with starting this blog going. It was concentrating mind…

My sociable, kind, understanding, compassionate, snotty-nosed neighbour above started his clunking, banging noises with some venom. I think he’s realised he was not so bad yesterday and is making up for it?

I stopped to make a brew of Glengettie, wrapping the tea bag up and placing it in the small waste bag; this is what I saw (on the right here). My initial reaction was… Argh! Another Boll Weevil! Oh dearie me! Out came the sprays, and the kitchen got a good covering in all corners and every hidey-hole or corner that I could get at!

I got what I thought was the offending animal out of the bag – but I could not see if it was a weevil or something else, thanks to Cataracts Kathleen, Glaucoma Gladys and Saccades Sandra.

Well, well, well! Another cock-up made yesterday, discovered! Tsk! I looked at the watch, then the clock. A difference in time showing? I’d forgotten to put the clock forwards with all the others, but a true Masterstroke-Whoopsiedangleplop with the new square, easier-to-see wristwatch! I’d put that backwards instead of forwards!!! Humph! It took me a while to work out what time it was now! So, I now have no idea when I got up this morning.

The sky turned into a bright blue; I’m glad I caught it with the Canon cause minutes later, it had turned back into a bright pale blue shade. It turned out to be a decent effort, I thought for once.

I took a photograph of the Chestnut Way end car park. It appears that the Red Van Man has not used his vehicle since yesterday. Hope he’s not poorly. Time to get some fodder organised.

The evening carer arrived and soon had the medicationalisationing sorted out. Took the waste bag with her to the chute for me on her way out.

I took an easy option tonight. Cooked some mushrooms with balsamic vinegar, squid sauce and chillies powder. (Not as ad as it sounds as it turned out, Hehe!) I sliced some lovely yellow tomatoes and forced myself to cut up some of the sickeningly bitter, foul-tasting Moroccan red tomatoes. Added the last of the ‘Batter bits’, a small apple and a banana. A Lemon and Lime M&S yoghourt that needed a mortgage to buy. And tucked into the feast… Oh, and of course, with the two hot dogs with BBQ sauce added. Flavour rating 7.2/10.

I went to Washed the pots, then me, Putting the trousers back on afterwards by mistake for the jammie bottoms! Tsk! Then settled to watch my favourite TV show, ‘Heartbeat’.

I couldn’t enjoy the programme properly, cause Colin Cramps visited my left hand and fingers. Never known him to be so painful and persistent!