Inchcock Today: Wednesday 21st September 2022

WEDNESDAY’s POLITICAL CARTOON

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03:40hrs: Another shooting awake, the arms jounced, and slowly the brain woke up as well. The only thing it was interested in was my hastening to the Porcelain Throne. So, I did!
No injuries or Accifauxpas en route; I got settled in the regulation position, and the evacuation began. I should think it was 80% putrid air and 20% of watery kaki-coloured liquid, with a few bloblets of the expected stuff mixed in.
Not too messy it didn’t spurt out. No bleeding.
Again, I thought, well, I’m in here now; I’ll get the ablutions tended to. most another bit of the left back double molar again… I don’t know how it hasn’t all gone by now; the number of times I lose a chunk of it?
I took extra care with the shaving this time. A couple of tin nicks, no bother.
Ah, there were some difficulties here. The Germoloiding of Harrolds Haemorrhoids went perfectly smoothly, with minimum pain of any sort. Then, the Phorpain gelling was more or less in the same style. Then, for some reason, the applicationing of the
Daktacort can only be described as horrendously painful. I stopped as soon as I felt that much pain in such a delicate area. And went to fetch the magnifying glass to see if I could find a use-by date in the tube or box. Nope, couldn’t see one anyway. I went to the medical drawer in the kitchenette and ferreted about for another tube. None left! I must ask Richard or Deana to order some for me.
A smothering of Germolene in place was tried. Totally-ineffective. I dare not use what bit of Daktacort that was left in the tube, so threw it away.
Then, the Danger of the Day, so far, had to be faced. 

Of course, I wasn’t worried at all; a heroic man with so many ailments is not going to let a plastic-coated finger-crunching, blood-letting thing like metal Sock Glide intimidate me. Well, more than suspected!
I got through it and got the socks on. A plaster on the trapped bleeding finger was all I needed this time. Freshened up my wobbly short-overweight body with antiperspirant spray and aftershave. Got dressed and tackled the next job, the .
Back down again! SYS 137. DIA 72, Pulse 78 bpm, and body temperature a good return at 34.3°f.
Back in the High-Norm amber area. I suppose a being shown is okay?
The second lowest rating I’ve ever recorded! Now I shall be looking to get in the green soon… Hehehe!

Was banging about above early again, around 06:00hrs. He must be making things for Christmas pressies early, mayhaps? Come think of it, I reckon he was noisy late at night and early mornings this time last year? I may be wrong, of course. ♫ It’s not unusual for Inchcock to be wrong… ♫

I got the computer on, and many comments on my blogs were received. It was from Bill, so I answered him. Off to make a mug of Thompson’s Punjana, and I took this morning shot of the view from the kitchen window. Not exactly awe-inspiring, is it?

I went back to the computer and checked the Emails.

Morrison and J Sainsbury’s had set a list of their substitutions and not available goods in today’s orders to be delivered.
Not good, is it? Still, I can give away the Tikka substitute; Deana might like them. The tomatoes should be okay. It’s funny how they always send dearer than the original substitutions.
JS had done even worse than Morrisons; that takes some doing. Same thing, dearer substitutes.
But they failed to tell me that the cheaper chilli cans I’d ordered were going to be substituted with a lot dearer ones! Humph! Anyway, I started to get things stored away. The Imperfect Tasty Strawberries were one for Deana and one for Francis, who I hope she’s back from the hospital by now and feeling better. I’ll ask Deana later.
Ah, my treats to myself here! Vegetarian shepherd’s pie, roast potatoes, veggie pasta, and sliced potatoes (well, it cuts back on chopped fingers!). Seasoned fresh cut chips as well… Oh, and a new one to me, Silky Butternut Squash Risotto; no idea what it will taste like, but without trying it, I’ll never know. Did you see that? Words of Wisdom… from me! Hehehe! Beefburgers and pot noodles for Carer Richard. Some individually portioned sticky rice pots and substituted No Chicken Tikka Masala with rice. I tried the one I ordered cause I knew I was okay with sweet & sour sauce. But I’ve tried Tikka before and did not like it. Are J Sainsbury staff told to select lousy substitutions on purpose? Is not sweet & Sour Chinese? And Tikka Indian?

At least they didn’t send me a pot of brown shoe polish this time. I’m not joking; I ordered potato cakes once and got a shoe polish pad!
Still, the owner has just lost a family member, the Queen. So, say no more. At least Morrison’s managed to deliver my favourite ready meal of all time. Roast Vegetable Risotto. It’s cracking tasty! I always put just a drop of BBQ sauce with it. And the packet of mushroom risotto I had yesterday, I think it was, was grand.
This is a loaf got the Wardens, cause it keeps fresher longer… someone told me.
I got some brown cobs for me from Lord Sainsbury: J Sainsbury plc is the parent company of Sainsbury’s Supermarkets Ltd, the third largest chain of supermarkets in the UK, with a 16.4% share of the market.
As of 2021, the largest overall shareholder is the sovereign wealth fund of Qatar Royal Family Investment Authority, which holds 14.99% of the company. It is listed on the London Stock Exchange and is a constituent of the FTSE 100 Index. The chain’s annual report shows that chief executive Simon Roberts picked up £2.8 million in bonuses for the year to March 5, on top of his £878,000 a year salary and other benefits. His mammoth pay deal includes a £1.7 million annual bonus and £1.1 million in long-term incentive scheme shares. Shame no one there knows the difference between a Chinese meal and an Indian one. Just thought I’d mention it! Not that I have anything against the Indians, they have my greatest respect and admiration. It’s just that their food does not sit well with me. Where was I?

Oh, yes… These were some of the giveaway items. I bought a few trays of fluffy rice. I just thought Deana might like one to try. Hope she likes Tikka.
She did call later after I’d got everything put away… Ah, something else I forgot to mention… A pack of six 1 litre Spring Water was delivered today; luckily, it was the first thing I moved into the kitchen from the blocked by food doorway. I felt the leaking water running down my leg onto the carpet; I then dropped the bottles when I got into the kitchen. What a mess I got into, and cleaning it up was no fun!
I lost the plot there… Sorry.
I put the flowers on the trolley, ready for when Deana or Julie, or both, came to see me about the lift for Friday.
Richard told me Deana would be calling today to see me. Which she did.

She told me she’s arranged for the lift on Friday to be for 10:00hrs So, hopefully, I can get to the B&M store to get some of the canned drinks that the Carers took to. I got some last week… no, a fortnight ago. But they all went first, but  I just cannot remember what they were called. When I see the cans, I’ll know, He says… Hehehe!
Onto the computer to make a start on this blog at long last.

♫ Oh, Susana… ♫ Hello, who’s that? It was Esther, after her six-week break visiting her family in South Africa for two weeks, that turned out to for four more. Can’t blame her! She’s calling tomorrow to do the laundry. She asked for a pen so she could write a note to another customer and post it through his door – I made sure I got the pen back this time! Hehe! 

I believe the sudden fatigue is coming back again now. 14:00hrs?
I’ll get a vegetable risotto in the microwave and add one bay-sized fluffy rice after three minutes, so they are ready at the same time. A drop of BBQ sauce will be added after cooking. This week I shall try harder to avoid any burnt fingers or dropped items when struggling to get the lid off of the trays.
The foods were both nearly ready. I made up a pot of Idaho instant mash with bubble & squeak, adding some extra-strong grated cheese and a quirt of my made-up to the bottle of liquid salt & distilled vinegar to the pot. Added a mini-pot of lemon mousse to the tray and got into the recliner to feast!


I had a cough and thought I saw some specs of blood in the tissue, well, the paper towel I used.
The meal was cooling as I checked the nose and mouth. Nowt to fret over, but puzzlingly all the ulcers in the gums seem to have erupted at the same time. I didn’t realise I’d got so many pustules in the gums. As for why this happened, I remain, as ever nowadays, confused.
Finally, I began the feast, ’cause that’s what it was, and even though I’ll let it cool more than I meant to, it was delicious! A Taste-Rating of 9.3/10!

I put the tray on the Carers desk next to the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, Harold Haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable from, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner. And drifted of with a satisfied stomach into a wonderful – but short-lived, dream-filled sleep.
♫ Oh, Susana… ♫ chimed out and brought me rudely to a state of semi-wakefulness. Blow it; I can’t remember her name now. Humph! She apologised for being late and mentioned how rushed she was. She soon got the medications sorted; and, with what seemed a reluctance, ask if there was anything else. There was, but she seemed so pressed I didn’t mention anything. A nice gal, I told her to pick a treat on her way out.
I think I was about to nod off again when I remembered I’d not locked the door. So, I locked it


Turning back from locking the door, I thought I’d have a look through the spy hole – which proved near fatal. Hehe! I twisted my back as I turned again, setting off poor and, at almost the same time, stubbed my toe on the three-wheel walker guide wheel… but I’d not finished yet. Oh, no!
Cursing my bad luck under my breath, and went into the wet room for a wee-wee and apply some Phorpain gel to Shirley. And walked into the doorframe, hit the shoulder, stopped, and automatically pee’d in my PPs, and I felt like crying. But I resisted it, after all being the heroic, stoic, brave, strong young man that I am…
At least Bladder-Belinda’s sudden leak came when I was in the wet room.
I evacuated the remaining few drops of urine from Bladder-Belinda. Stripped off and had a good clean-up. Germoloided Harold’s Haemorrhoids,
And got the crap, not very effective  MedPhorpainPhorpain gel, rubbed into my back as best that I could get at. Surprisingly, the toe stinging started to ease off?
Got some fresh PPs on, the Depend brand that had coped admirably well with Bladder-Belinda’s earlier escaping mini-torrent. was left until last. Because the shoulder charge on the wet room doorframe had set her off shuddering away, but now she had calmed down.
It took me so long to sort things out that by the time I was leaving the wet room, the and , were of little bother now.
Of course, now I had to rely on to get me through the doorway without any . Easy-peasy! I think that when I go going into the room and the light blaring at my eyes is why there are more walk-intos than when leaving the wet room?

A momentary Sherlock Holmesian conclusion there?Haha!

I got settled into the c1968 recliner seat…
Tired out, with Thought STorms to compete,
My mood was just a tad downbeat,
Thought of the Risotto… that was a treat!
Cramps now, in the fingers, legs and feet!
I must be getting closer to the scrapheap,
Losing my battle for peace and sleep…
My life seems full of things grossièreté!
Don’t know when, but I got nodded off alreet…
Dreamt I was on holiday; it looked like Crete?
2:55hrs, I sprang wide awake. Did I oversleep?
Asleep only five minutes, I could weep!

MORNING ALL!

Inchcock’s Thought Storms

Introduction

His odes, in many ways, are like a zit…

An unwanted ailment, you have to squash it…

Full of pus, staph bacteria, that hurts a bit,

Lost words, replaced with whatchamacallits,

Rhyming is so bad that it can ruin friendships,

Dementia Doreen causing so many errors and blips,

Inchy’s not educated, so he struggles at penmanship…

Now lost his logicality, of which he once had a firm grip!

He dreams of his brain being men mended, maybe, reequipped.

Mental power, dreams, and memory have to the ether slipped…

He tries to battle against Doreen, for long he has schlepped…

But is losing the battle; thus, he is about ready for his crypt.

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His odes, in many ways, are like a zit; yes, I meant zit,

An unwanted ailment, you have to squash it…

Full of pus, staph bacteria, that hurts a bit,

Lost words, replaced with whatchamacallits,

Rhyming is so bad that it can ruin friendships,

Dementia Doreen causing so many errors and blips,

He’s not educated, so he struggles at penmanship…

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Now lost his logicality, of which he once had a firm grip!

He dreams of his brain being men mended, maybe, reequipped.

Mental power, dreams, and memory have into the ether slipped…

He tries to battle against Doreen, for long he has schlepped…

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But is losing the battle, thus ready for his crypt

But the business went bust,

And I started to lust…

For a gal with a big bust…

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I’m prepared, but not too keen, on my upcoming sepulchre,

To be honest, I don’t see it fits into human culture…

Well, I used to be sociable, in fact, I was a campanologer,

Waking folks up Sunday morning… was my main pleasure,

Which I took my time with because it was a pleasure!

 The locals warned me off, bellringing, with a fervour,

So, to avoid a pasting, my bell rang no more…

Anyway, it hurt my arms, then I got a shoulder fracture…

So, I bought a barrow, and became a costermonger,

Giving me so much time watching the sky and pareidolia!?

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Mood Update:

While struggling to get the preceding crap ode done, I got increasingly confused. I may have just posted bits of a Snippet ode wot I did in between today’s efforts. I have to write this stuff on Word, and then I get a spell checker. Then cut and paste into Blogger, where the colour and font size usually changes, and I have to go through it all again, ever correcting! I got a little depressed with things, life etc… I gave up and transferred it to WordPress. It’s a true-life farcicalness with Doreen Dementia!

However, I had a bit of good fortune in taking a tumble while making a brew of Thompson Punjana tea. Cracking my left knee on a cabinet corner as I went down. Everything seemed to change then, outlook and contentment-wise.

 I suddenly gleaned a previously unthought series of thoughts:

Why am I worrying? The end is nigh, and whatever I do, the Doctor will not accept Doreen Dementia’s existence, so there is no chance in hell of getting any help. ‘Fact!’

As much as I miss my daily hobbles, walking to the shops, and in the tree copse. I no longer have the ability to take them. ‘Fact’ You’ll just have to accept the inevitable, Chambers!

Walking into things may get less after I’ve had the eyes done. No point in fretting over it, the right eye cataract will take time to work, but there is a good chance I will again be able to do crosswords (not that I was any good at them, Hehe!), Not fret over the other eye being done afterwards. It’ll take a long time ‘Fact’.

Should I snuff it before they are done well? Would it matter? Apart from an unknown to me, a battle to get at my valuables from sudden relatives who care… I shall not be around to see it, and I can’t take them with me, (Or, can I?). So, good luck to them. ‘Fact!’

I tried thinking about happier times… that was not easy. Hehe! But Suzanne Jean Percival came to mind first and foremost, and they really were genuine happy memories. ‘Fact!’

That made me feel worse when I realised my current position… So quiet here today, even the noisy standoffish, antisocial, smarmy, reticent, toploftical git in the flat above was not making any noise! Loneliness is something that rarely affects me, but it did then. No one visiting. No phone calls, text messages… a sense of isolation. ‘Fact!’

After I’d cleared up the mess in the kitchen and Phorpain gelled the knee, I made another brew, of Glengettie tea this time, the mood rose… without any reason, nothing had changed, yet suddenly I was ashamed of myself – and self-loathing at my pathetic self-pitying took over.‘ Fact!’

There are so many others in a worse state than I am. Somehow, although it didn’t cheer me up, my acceptance of things grew. 

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So I got on with this blog’s making.

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

LATE THOUGHT-STORMS!

As a young man, I thought I was a brainiac…
But that was sixty-odd years ago, way back,
I’ve been through periods of wine and Prozac,
Lived in a tent, then moved up to a wooden shack…
Cost of livings to high got to cut back!

I used to believe in Old Moore’s Almanac!
Bought a Robin Reliant, but I wanted a Cadillac…
That had to go because I got the sack,
Others had briefcases, me? A haversack!
I’ve never won the lottery, Monopoly, or blackjack…
Amazon, Facebook, eBay my computer track,
Maybe it’s because I’m a senile maniac?

TTFNski!

Inchcocks Tuesday 1st June 2022 – With Ode

Inchies Ode to Failed Wishes

I wanted Mummy to love me for sure…
But crime had caused her departure…
Police caught her in a cottage on the river Nure,
But that was years later, not really a cure…

I wanted to become a competent swimmer…
But I soon discovered that I was scared of water,
I soon got Inchcock as a new nomenclature…
I fought to get into the footy team, the agony I did endure…
But I was useless; I even thought of becoming a friar!

Things were depressing and getting dire…
Then we had a nasty frying pan fire…
Left me scalded, but to the pain, I am no stranger,
The most used word to me was Shurrup! I was a chinwagger…
I once poked myself in the eye with a penny banger!

I try dancing, the Twist and the Conger…
Of course, I can’t do them any longer…
In those days, I was younger and stronger,
And, I was earning some serious wonga,
All of which I’ve spent and have no longer…

Nowadays, my life is a little austerer…
To socialisationing, I’ve become a sightseer,
My ailments often mean that I feel a bit queer…
So when someone relates to me, I hold it dear…
But folks generally keep away, don’t come near!

I became a Headway volunteer…
Tried to give the patients a little cheer
We’d share Monopoly, darts and the odd root beer…
I’ve never been any kind of profiteer…
Eventually, they said I was becoming battier…

Why? was it some form of solastalgia?
I found out it was due to Peripheral Neuralgia,
I was definitely getting a little crochetier…
And my body was getting heftier… fatter,
I decided that this didn’t matter…

With my self-hatred, I felt evermore guiltier…
My calling myself names got much nastier,
If I just accept things, maybe life may come easier…
I even went to speak with the local vicar…
He touched what he shouldn’t. I’m now a nonbeliever!

I still press on, getting wobblier and clumsier,
To avoid depression, I tried to keep myself busier,
Each day I get crappier, creepier, and dizzier…
Even the carers think that I’m getting barmier!
I admit I’m getting poorlier, older and bolshier!

There’s no denying that I’m getting more Clishmaclaver…
Numbers, figures calculation I can no longer figure,
I muse over my fear, praying there may be a cure…
Against the darkness of gloom, I cannot enure!

Even talking to myself, I’m getting more spitefuller…
I can’t reason things sometimes; that makes me mardier…
And my body is aching so, and getting lardier…
My wee-weeing is more frequent and dribblier,
My Haemorrhoids are bloodier and much itchier!

The short term memory is confused, vaguer, muddier…
And used to be such an excellent rememberer!
At this moment, I don’t know if it’s March or September?
Have I put the oven on yet? I’ll have a gander…
No, I’ve not; what else have I missed on my agenda?
Well, I left the hot tap on… frustration and anger!

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Diary Tuesday 1st June 2022

  After perhaps twenty jump-awakes, I gave up on the 21st or so and rose onto my feet for a wee-wee at 04:10hrs. Grumph!

The leak was free of Pre and After Micturitional Dribbling. Well, that was something! It sort of got me in an up mood.

I trotted off to the wet room to empty and sanitize the wee-wee bucket, and I got the Ablutions done while I was in there. There was only one tiny nick shaving and two dropsies, none of which caused any bother. A good session as well this time.

Got the Blood Pressure and Temperature sorted out. Despite the lousy night’s limited sleep and unending damned shooting awake, I was not in a bad mood, with a jump almost! They are getting worse each night?

SIA 136. DIA 71 and the Pulse were at 77bpm, I think. Cataracts etc., making it hard for me to see. The body temperature was still slightly low at 33.6°c, but not a lot below the 35.0°c target. It might be more explicit when blogging.

I nipped off to make a waste bag-up and got some potatoes in the saucepan to marinate in the fish sauce before boiling later on. I was on form today!

Made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana tea, and the early morning sky caught my good eye. The cloud looked like it would turn into an alien spaceship and burst into view. I must have got the idea from a film that I’d seen? I’ll remember it! Got some photo’s from the SD card onto the computer. And started to do the Ode Tuesday blog.

200 0 0 Porc I’d not gotten far with the odeing, and the call to the Porcelain Throne arrived from the innards. Trotsky Terence shared control; along with Constipation Konrad; I know it doesn’t make sense. But again, the movement took ages to get started and needed so much effort it was painful with it when it did begin, which wasn’t for a long time. I even got some answers in the crossword! But when things moved, they were cripplingly slow, and the final desperate push exited not rock hard as the first few but messy and gooey? What? I didn’t like that session at all!

Back to the odeing and got it finished at last. Getting ready to review the blog before posting, and ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ Chimed out. As soon as I heard it, I remembered I’d not yet unlocked the door. So, I did!

The look on Carer Richard’s face was with a place in the Tate Gallery! Worth a thousand words. Amongst them would be, “You pillock, you’ve forgotten again to unlock the door!” Hehe!

I was busy on the blogging, but due to a three-hour circumlocution of great vagueness, I can only use the scribbled notes to guess what took place. Here they are as best I can decipher them: Ode… rushing, emailed, Facebooking, WP Comments, WP Reader… Ode for today… Conrad Confusion, mind-blanks… rampant wee-wees…

I checked on the spuds to find that I’d not turned on the heat. Plonker! 

Herbert was not so bad today, not as loud. But still persistent throughout.

Took Strawberries unwanted by Richard to Josie. Got the nosh sorted out. Beer battered chips were great, and new potatoes with BBQ sauce and a ketchup dip pot. Sourdough bread, veg sausages, and tomatoes. Baby banana to follow. 8.2/10.

Still vague-minded, no idea who came… yes, I have; it might have been Cheeky-Charley… Yes, I think it was. Bless her.

Grrreat! I nodded off within ten minutes and stayed that way for three solid hours! Then the jumping-awake started again… Grumph!

Inchcocks Tuesday 31st May 2022 – With Ode

ODE to MEMORIES

♫ Memories are made of this… ♫

Memories I have of sweets costing a farthing!
Getting skin cancer through over-sunbathing,…
I had sex once when I was thirtysomething…
Being six, Mam ran away, and I learnt snogging,
Christine, her name, I was her plaything!

Skidmarks on my unwashed underclothing.
Trying my hand as a pugilist, boxing…
I never won a bout; I was constantly losing…
So tried the sports club amateur wrestling,
Just one fight, it left me frothing and bleeding,

Years later, I tried my hand at WordPressing,
Got dementia. It is very depressing…
Worked in security, tried a spot of sleuthing,
Caught a crook once; he was very scathing,
He was found not guilty; I was seething!

I went undercover pretending to be birdwatching…
Dressed in camouflage, green and brown clothing…
Binoculars to hand, RT and truncheon packing…
Fell out of the tree as I suspect, watching…
Lost my job; it was gutwrenching!

Realising how bad I was at odes & blogging,
When I was getting on a bit, seventysomething,
I had a period of deep thoughts and soulsearching,
Seeking whatever, a reason to carry on trying…
Now I’m approaching the time for dying…
Oddly enough, there’s no crying, just a bit of sighing!

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TUESDAY 31st MAY 2022

05:10hrs: After yet another horrendous night of shooting awake, nodding off and bursting back into ersatz life, I gave up; I needed a wee-wee, anyway. But that in itself was a nightmare… well, morning mare!

The regular of late, trickling, waiting and whistling, was followed by an even more extended period of dribbling! At least by taking my time and making sure that things had stopped, I avoided any splashing of the furniture, carpet or my body parts.

I started the sphygmomanometerisationing. BP first, with satisfactory results, as you can see here on the left. A smidge high, but nothing compared to many of last week’s figures for the SYS, at 149, DIA 74, and Pulse 78bpm. Very good! The Chinese (Hong Kong) was built by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, was still showing low. Compared to the target set by the hospital, of 35°c, at 33.7°c. But no worries!

I made up a waste bag and then went to the wet room to check out the feet and ankles that I found affecting my balance and hurting me a smidgeon.

I dug out yesterday’s photo of the pins to compare it with today’s (top).

Quite a change? The DVT and old ankle blotch had gone all artistic and more pronounced. Which is what the pains did as the day developed. They have not been this bad for months? Then I got the kettle on but didn’t get to make a brew as the innards summoned me back to the wet room.

Once again, the motion was reluctant to start moving. So, I had a go at the crossword book, a different one, as the previous one had got me struggling. Got a couple of answers in, and the sludge started coming! I can’t recall ever having a more gooey sticky, pongy evacuation than this was! Half a new toilet roll later, I started the mammoth task of cleaning up. Had a wash, got dressed, and went back to the kitchenette.

Made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana, and got some photos uploaded to CorelDraw, then the computer. Got the Monday blog updated; it took me a long time. During which the feet started stinging even when I was sat down. What’s going off down there?

Carer Richard arrived. The lad didn’t look too good. So I launched some humour at him, to which he responded well. As he got the medications to me, the poor chap started sneezing and coughing, and he was sweating so much! Not that that stopped him for long, he even showed me how to get the Grammarly extension, not to give corrections for sentence building. Unfortunately, it stopped Grammarly from working at all! Hehehe! I laughed because we got it back on and laughed about it. (Phew!) Richard didn’t look any better when he departed, but I think he was a little happier. I hope he is not coming down with any illness. Fingers crossed that he’ll be back tomorrow and feeling better. I got the Monday blog post done last, and the Morrison delivery arrived.

The delivery person brought up the flowers first, so he didn’t damage them, and he went down to the other bags; that was kind of him. These are for the Wardens. He fetched the different parcels, and I got them into the kitchen.

Got the things stored away. There is no frozen today; the freezer would struggle to get a biro or single fruit gum in. At least I got some of the battered chips, not the ones I wanted, but the last ones tasted nice enough. They substituted for battered onions with a tray of mashed turnips? Still, they’ll do for me. The bananas almost made me feel guilty! They looked like a set of parents with their children. Alright, so I’m a little weird at times! It has to be admitted, I fear. My travel into loony-land is taking on a little speed lately. Hehehe!

Cleaner Esther arrived. Talking all the time, picking fault with me not getting out for some exercise… then she took the laundry down to get done. I missed most of what she said. But, I did pick up on my ordering too much food. I’ve long stopped bothering to explain things to her. Hehehe!

I took Morrison’s Amazon food delivery wrappers to the waste chute. The fire door was wedged open into and from the flat’s lobby area. Some work of some sort was taking place. The lighting of some sort, I believe.

I limped (the flipping feet are getting even more painful now?) down through the lift lobby and to the waste room door at the end to the left.

I partly trapped my knuckle in the cast iron lid as I shoved the bags into the chute. Nothing new; I’m becoming something of an expert in doing this!

Back to the flat lobby and through into 72 Woodthorpe Court single apartment. Well, I would; I live there. Hahaha! I may be losing it again here?

I got some Facebooking done and the WordPress reading. Later, got the oven warming up for the nosh, specifically the battered chips.

Esther returned with the washing, all done. Oh, the tongue lashing I suffered. I’ve no idea what they were about, mind you. But they flowed at me without relenting or relaxing for a good few minutes. Deafness can have its advantages. Hehe!

I’ll get the meal started, and then, if I don’t fall asleep, try to get the top Ode-making started. Got the beer-battered chips in the oven and got some WordPress comments answered, then went to check the ovens in the chips… or even the chips in the oven.

Enjoyed this plateful immensely. Especially the beer-battered chips. And soft bloomer sliced bread.

A Taste-rating of 8/10 was given. Then, as I had failed to get any desserts with the food order (my fault, Doreen Dementia’s), I guiltily had one of the baby bananas. You can see how small they were here. Tasty lovely. I’m not sure, but I might have heard it crying as I bit into it! Hahaha!

Washed the pots up. And then proceeded to drop the washing-up liquid bottle to the floor via my right toes. What a mess! Got it sorted out and just finished it.

♫ Oh, Susana ♫ rang out, and in came the Evening Carer. Well, Carers, mob-handed. Hehehe! They got the medications sorted, and we had a three-way natter for a couple of minutes, and off they went. Bless ’em.

I got the TV turned on, and there was no reception at all? Mayhaps the electricians, needed to turn off some connection to get done whatever they were doing? So, I put in a Heartbeat DVD to watch. The message came up No DVD inserted! Oh!

I reset the Freeview system. But only a third at most of the channels were loaded, and all West Midlands? So, reset again, picking the ‘All’ option. This time it came up and seemed to be working. But the DVD wasn’t having it! Humph!

I could see the sky’s colour changing through the paper-thin curtains. And nipped out to take a photo of the unique cloud and sky colouring. Not the brightest I’ve seen by a long shot, but I thought it was an awe-inspiring bit of nature.

Fifteen minutes later, the glow of the sun’s setting permeated the room, and I hobbled into the kitchenette. To take this picture. Another masterpiece of nature. I’m so glad I didn’t fall asleep now. But soo regretted thinking this.

The sixth night on the trot of being unable to get to sleep. Couldn’t read a book, thanks to cataracts, glaucoma and saccades. Put the TV on but could not hear it or read the subtitles easily. But kept springing awake again, seemingly every five minutes or so. After perhaps twenty jump-awakes on the 21st, I gave up and rose onto my feet for a wee-wee. It was hard work and well gone midnight before I drifted off…

Morning all!

Inchcock Photographs & Odes: Wed-Thur 26-27th May 2022

WEDNESDAY 26th MAY 2022

Well, the lower legs are looking betterer?

The blood taking hole is standing up well. Hehe!

BP is fine again.

♫ Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain… ♫
♫ Telling me just what a fool I’ve been… ♫

My bad luck, or lack of good fortune, continues!

A simple nosh made for a simpleton,
Who knows not what is a sextillion…
Who passes wind, and creates a septon,
Dementia has made his brain wanton…
Yet had a dream, a hope and a premonition…
One day he’ll write a daily newspaper’s feuilleton,
But he’s too old now, this bald, retarded Briton…
He still cooks, nowt fancy like venison or a wonton,

I’ve waffled again, then again, and so did Byron?
I’ll try summat daring – like eating a persimmon!
I’m mentally decaying, needing a psychosurgeon?
Desperate to be seen by a neurosurgeon…
To be honest, I’d take from any chirurgeon!
Even if it helped just as smidgeon…
To slow down my deteriorating condition!

Evening carer has been, all shattered, but mentally okay,
Of course, there was no chance of it staying this way…
Control of my grey-cells thinking seems so far away…
No matter what I try, the confusion’s here to stay…
Of course, I’ve tried for help; I often pray,
But there’s no chance of improvement, I daresay…
Just have to hope tomorrow is a better day…

Lost the plot on this Ode; I don’t need to be told,
My mind refuses to be controlled…
I’ve no virtues of being extolled…
I’m not feeling very bold…
Problems that need to be resolved?
Why has my good-luck gland never evolved?
Why have I never won a gold?
No wonder my hopes have dissolved!

You may think this diary is so short on content and reckon I’d lost the reminder pad, and I spent hours searching for it and couldn’t find it anywhere? Panicked and faffed about, stubbing my toe and using naughty language as I built up my hatred for Vascular Dementia Doreen?

This guesstimate or thought would be Spot-On!

THURSDAY 26th MAY 2022

Cor blimey, and luv-a-duck! What a fantastic kip I had last night! I reckon I’d had about seven uninterrupted hours with Sweet Morpheus! I stirred back into pretending life around 0535hrs.

Of course, with not getting up repeatedly for a wee-wee, I was in a desperate need within seconds of waking up. The trip to the bucket was interrupted by a new requirement – the Porcelain Throne.

The lower back pain kicked off as I turned with metal Mickey in hand to divert to the wet room. In the hallway, dang it! Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters came back online, and the leg flailed… straight into the edge of the doorframe, acquiring a rather nasty toe-stubbing to add to my slowly increasing collections of morning pains!

And what a messy session it turned out to be! Despite waiting many minutes for the motion to start and having a failed attempt at getting any clues answered on the crossword that I’ve now been doing on the throne for over a week, there were no indications of any progress. So, I started counting the new veins that had come upon the leg. Having worked out that only two new ones had come up and felt for sure at least five had gone down, I was considering going into a Smug-Mode…

Then, the… well, an explosion is the only word to describe it – the evacuated product burst out in some haste, and I could feel the splashes rebounding back up to my bottom and gentleman’s tackle storage area. What a mess the Throne and I ended up in! So, I set to cleaning and freshening things and me up in the wet room. I was caught out, right and proper, by Trotsky Terence’s reappearance after a few days. Humph!

All spick and span again, and feeling a smidgeon proud of how I handled the unfortunate evacuation, I departed the wet room on my way to treat myself to a mug of tea. And clouted my shoulder on the doorframe, setting Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley off jigging all over the place in her effort to dislodge the shoulder bone, I think!

MedPhorpainNeedless to say, I was a little pee’d off now. I took a painkiller with the tea and rubbed some Phorpain Gel well into Shirley’s shoulder where I could reach. I felt sorry for myself, and I reflected on who was really to blame. Doreen’s Dementia, Nichodemuses Neurotransmitter, Neuropathy Pete, Cataract Kathleen, Glaucoma Gladys, and me! So many options came to mind that I decided all of these were at fault or the causes of my morning’s dilemmas.

I took a snap of the view from the kitchen window. Although it may have been from yesterday now, I think of it. Dementia Doreen is not easy to live with.

I got on the computer to finalise and post the local News Snippets blog. I pressed on regardless, and I lost a lot of time changing the central Ode. Why? I forget why I thought it was a good idea. The original and one I ended posting were both crap, anyway! But then, I’m good at crap. Consistently, I reliably churn it out.

I went to make another brew, determined to get this one drunk! The red sky reminded me of the old saying, “Red Sky at Night, Shepherds delight!” By the time I’d taken the pictures, the red sky had gone.

When I checked the photos on the camera, I was not impressed at all. But of course, with Cataract Kathleen, Glaucoma Gladys and Saccades Sandra lingering, what would I know. Hehehe!

Ah, when I got these on later, they looked so different in the Preview window than on this editor that I’m using.

♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chimed out, and in came two carers. They were not listening types; both were supervisory. It is my fault for talking to them when they sorted out the paperwork. I must stop doing that!

I went into the balcony, opened the end window, and took this shot of the Chestnut Way end car park… Trapping my finger in the spring lock as I close the window afterwards. Tsk!

I’d anticipated Richard coming today. My grasp on actuality had gone away. One of them had returned to the fold, and I was ready to listen to my tale of the potato husks that I’d left in the oven for eight hours overnight. I’d kept them to show to Richard, but they got a laugh out these gals when I showed them to them. Haha!

I got on with the updating and posted it to WordPress. Had a while on Facebook Catchup. Then made a start on the first Ode for this one.

Blimus! It was gone midday in no time!

I must get the WP comments to read and answer. Then I read the WordPress Reader new blogs and commented on them.

The Evening Carer will be due soon, Valerie, I hope. I’m going to get my wash and change into the night attire now, TTFNski. The ankles were a bit blotchy again? The INR being high?

A can of the veg chilli-con-carne, baked some chunked potatoes, last of the Milk Roll bread, and a pot of weak watery Morrison’s Honey flavoured yoghourt. I enjoyed it. Taste Rating: 7/10.

Arrived after I’d washed the pots up. Forget the Carer’s name again, nice gal.

I got down to kip, but the notable changes in the evening sky forced me to keep getting up to take photographs of the views. I’ll put them on Friday’s blog; hopefully, the SD reader will be working better then.

Sleep was a long time in coming. But that was my fault for me keeping getting up several times to photograph the changing sky.

Ode To Hope

Every time I think things may improve, I suffer a forfeiture,
For being foolish enough to be a self-deluder?
Of course, existence will just get crappier,
Anyway, if things went right, would I be happier?
Good fortune for me; it would be so unfamiliar…
No doubt it would make me feel guilty and peculiar?
I’d probably go into shock and have a stroke or seizure…
Not to worry, I’ll take my tablets and a gulp of tincture!

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

Inchcock Today – Memories Evoked + Odes

Looking at an old photograph can stir memories, even in some Doreen Dementia suffers, like I am. So here are my initial ruminations of looking at this picture… They may come over as a little out of sync, but one’s thought triggers another. I had to be adding them than before I wrote what I was doing… then I forgot what I had started typing. Sometimes remembering later, begin to correct things, and another unrelated memory pops up… to be forgotten about again. Later on, I got all confused but carried on anyway. Sorry about this.

This now embarrassing, brownie-camera photographicalisation shows the signs of authentic poverty in which I grew up. Although, at the time, I believed we were luckier than some of the residents of Brookfield Place. But not many.

Obviously, I was scrubbed up using carbolic soap. I was redressed into pants that didn’t fit; the crumbling walls on the 1899-built two-up, two-down terraced house make me cringe when I see it now. See that? I was nine house bricks high at the time. Not much taller now!

Having a photo taken was an event in those days. I believe Mr Wright, whose family lived at the end of the small terrace, number 10 (I might be wrong, of course). Mr Wright was the only person nearby who was well off enough to own a camera then and generously took pictures and got them developed and given to those in them. A wonderful man.

Christine. Mr Wright and Jane are on holiday in Mablethorpe! I recall feeding the family dog Rover (No pets were allowed on the caravan site in those days.) each time Mr, Mrs Wright, and daughter Christine went on holiday, taking Sister Jane with them; after Jane returned home, I’d better explain that while I think of it.

A better-off side of the family, with five boys, wanted to adopt Sister Jane. Dad opposed this, the fights started, and it was agreed that Jane would of out to Italy with the family. Which left me thinking, Jane was ‘out there’ having a ball, while I was left with Dad (Mother had done another runner from the police). Had to do the cooking and what cleaning I could family. Clean out and set the fire but did not start it until I saw Dad coming home. He thought it was overspending to make a fie for only one person. Give him his dinner, and get the things ready for the morning in the coal house ready for clearing out and resetting again in the morning. So, the crux of it was; that I was a smidge jealous, thinking that Jane was out there, in the sunshine, wanting for nothing, living the life of Riley… While Jane was ‘over there’ thinking that I was at home, living the life of Riley! Hahaha! In truth, poor Jane was miserable and had it a lot worse than me! She was molested, had to be a maid to the boys… When we found out we were both miserable, we had to laugh. As I understand it, each of the lads, who are now men, has been arrested and found guilty of various nefarious offences. Worra family!

Recollections of the folks living near my beloved Brookfield Place came to mind.

From the left, Sister Janet, Inchcock, Christine Wright, Mrs Wright and Walter. Can’t remember what we were doing or where we were when taking the snap. Either Mr Wright to son Brian would have taken it?

This picture, I do remember having being taken. A Door-knock photographer took it (2/3d a photo 11p in today’s money). Not cheap! The rather distinguished-looking (I don’t know how or why I remembered that?) cameraman said it’s usual to have a girl and boys toy in hand. I recall Jame going up to get her teddy from the bedroom, and I nipped next door to borrow a ball from my mate Jack. On my behalf, returning to have the picture taken. But putting on that forced smile was almost painful for me. Har-har!

A terrible picture of my blonde locks. This brings a scary memory back to me. Often I would be in the backyard. Our house was about eight-foot from a railway viaduct. On the left in the top photo) I would be playing or chopping wood in the backyard and the train; it was a busy line, with Arkwright Street Station, high above the houses. We got goods, commuter and the London Express’s all passing throughout the day and night. The houses shook, the windows rattled, the light swayed…

Yet, they never woke me up or bothered me because I grew up with it. Later, when we moved to Ipswich Circus, it was so quiet that I couldn’t sleep for months! True!

I lost my plot there, didn’t I? Sorry, where was I?…

Oh, yes! In the backyard, a neighbour usually would run at me and start to beat me around the head. This is all genuine! I had to wait until they had stopped, to find out why they were clouting me… had I done something naughty (not unknown), or as it usually was, the hot ashes falling from the trains had set my hair on fire again. (Which, more often than not, was the case)

It’s not surprising that I started losing my hair at 20-years of age?

Christine Wright, in front of her house in Brookfield Place.

Not that Inchcock is creeping out behind her? Hehe!

I’ve no memory of this photograph being taken.

I think this one was taken in Wilford or West Bridgford.

Christine and Janet got me to pretend to be knocked over and lay under the Morris Ten car. Haha!

The next one, I can vaguely remember.

The hosepipe was out in the backyard. Fed through the window from Chrissie’s kitchen tap. It’s the summertime, and someone will get soaked, methinks… I vaguely remember grabbing the hosepipe in the cause of self-protection. When those two got together, there was always a danger of me being injured, embarrassed or molested! In this case, all three. And I got a good soaking, to boot!

♫ Memories are made of these… ♫

My family, as such, were Methodists, Wesleyan,
Dad rarely went to church; Mother was an Aryan…
We soon split up, first off to Sicily, went sister Jane,
Brother Pete joined the army to help keep sane…
Mother ran from the police, again and again…
So it was just Dad and me in the main!

Education and affluence, to me, were strange…
No class, I never heard of a counterpane…
Then, I had no bad habits from which to refrain.
As you’ll read above, I got set on fire by many a train,
I’d never dined out or been on holiday or on a jet plane…
I used to get bad headaches, not a posh migraine…
But life was never dull or mundane!

I soon learned that nothing in life is free or certain!
An outside toilet, in winter it froze up, even the chain!
The only interest in sex came from the Chaplain…
I never went abroad, to Italy, France or Bahrain,
Shopped at jumble sales in search of a bargain…
I was considered weird cause I didn’t like John Wayne!
My searches for romance were all in vain!

My hopes for my future were low and uncertain,
I’d sit in my flat, glumly looking out through the curtain,
Plans and designs were ruined cause of my scatterbrain,
At least I’ll never become part of Britain’s brain drain!
My sanity was fluctuateable and hard to retain…
Timourousness, trepidation, and a cruel self-disdain…
My confidence and self-esteem had been mislain!
Don’t suppose I’ll ever find them again?

Is my Alto-Ego me, or am I?
Why do I even wonder why?
Would I be happier as a troglodyte?
Would I still like Marmite?
I think I’m losing this brain fight…
My last driblets of sanity are taking flight…

I’ve tried to do moral things and not to be profane,
Up to now, I’ve avoided trying out cocaine,
From alcohol, greed and bullying, I abstain,
Yet feel my life is almost transmundane…
Are my thoughts really mine or nongermane?
Shit!… I’ve forgotten what I was going to write!

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