The VAT Fiddle! Ode & Cartoons

It took seven years, to get sorted. How can the morons expect me to be in debt for VAT, with about 0.6% VATables of the total sales of £900 weekly, and demand £19k from me… well!

Gits!

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I woke with a new papule!

So, here are a few photos I managed to take miraculously… Boring noshes, one taken today… after which the Lumix decided to not let me take anymore, just when I was almost getting excited and thinking I’d cracked it! Frustration grows! What have I done it?

Sunday – Josies Nosh

Incidentally, after serving up Josie’s and eating my own lunch, I suddenly felt so tired. I was feeling fine before this. Then had a mind-blank and was incapable of doing virtually anything. Didn’t touch the computer for about 15 hours! Until this morning. Mind you, I woke up feeling back to normal. But decided I had to get to see the Doctor! And waited until Richard came in, hours late. He’d got in a pickle that delayed him. But the lad was really looking worn out and so tired, he did not offer to ring the surgery. He just wanted sleep, something the lad had problems with without having to do a 16hr shift. He’s done his best and asked their head office to ring me or let me know he’d be late.

 Bit of cock-up there on my behalf. I did get a phone call but thought it was the spammer man, he had the same Asian accent, and I thought he said he was ringing from Virgin, so rang off! Oh, dear, it must have been Meridian, he said! I felt terrible about that. But it’s no wonder I want someone to phone the surgery, is it? So when Richard had gone, I rang Deana. Explained the problem with last Friday’s mind-blank when I was at Bulwell and another today. Also quickly mentioned the cataract getting worse, as was the hearing. Also, I reminded her that she failed to turn up Friday. Poor gal was ultra-busy, s I expected from the tone of her voice on Freitag. Bless her, she only asked ME – to phone and remind her in the morning! Me! For her to call and ring the surgery for me. Hahaha! Worra life, innit? It never gets any easier. Oh, the photos…

My nosh, before the funny turn.

Jelly and once cream for afters. By gum, I’m gourmet… is that the right word to use?

Today’s lone photo! Of the CorelDraw screen, This was taken five minutes before CorelDraw crashed yet again! Humph! Mind-blanks, Little Inchies Fungal Lesion Bleeding, Cataract Cathy making things hard work, and a devil of a lob to get any help getting things done… that made me think. What am I having for a nosh? I wish I’d bought more of the roast vegetable cottage pie meals now. They were excellent tasting.

No stopping me I ordered some more from Morrison’s via Amazon. If I go on like this, it’ll be a struggle to pay the Carer’s costs. I blame Dementia Doreen, personally. I hate her and Cataract Cathy. Gragknagles! I know what I’ll have. I’ve two vegetable burgers left that I could not see the use-by date of. Richard looked this morning, and I think he said a day left on it, that and some sliced potatoes, mayhap?

Took me hours to get this blog done, but I did enjoy it, apart from CorelDraw letting me down again. Each time does that, it’s another half hour finding out where I saved the last one, then save the new rescued one in the same name.

I shall now start cooking the meal. Done that. Now to get this finished, titivated and posted.

Evening All!

Whoops, forgot the funnies. Here they are…

Accountants (Abdul) Joke.

TTFNski!

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!

Unbelievably, Colin Cramps stopped tormenting me the very moment that the end credits rolled for ‘Heartbeat’. Ah, well!

I rose for a wee-wee, and boy, had I taken some over the day! On the bright side, Little Inchies lesion was not bleeding. Check the taps (faucets) and electrics, and I got down in the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working recliner.

The Thought-Storms kicked off straight away. They dragged things from over sixty-plus years ago; my errors, bad choices, failures… on and on, they kept coming! Some I had actually forgotten about altogether… they had to be mused over. I’ve no idea why; it only made me more depressed.

Out of desperation for sleep and to escape the storming, I turned the TV back on. Which worked… but at the same time, Colin Cramps attacked again in the same hand!

I think it was gone midnight again before I managed to nod off. Well, that’s not exactly right. I realised I’d not taken the Hemp capsule again! I nodded off many times, but only for a minute, then I’d shoot awake again.

At least the Thought Storms had given up on me, only to be replaced with Self-Hating-Harvey. I suppose that Dementia Doreen is at the route of things…

Inchcock’s Sad Ode to his Youth

Derwent Street on the right. The railway line going behind the houses, was where I existed as an ankle-snapper

This Ode was written, in memory of the bad times. The start of my life-long Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas and Failures. Also, the two good things that happened while living here; but, they were my last two good things, and I can’t remember them clearly.

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Inchcock’s Sad Ode to his Youth

In Inchies youth, some kids could be vandalistic,
Most were foul-mouthed verbalistic…
With tempers, through ignorance, volcanic!
Nobody learnt how to use a chopstick,
Most uneducated, we had rickets and hair-nits,
Food options and choices were limited; we couldn’t cherrypick,
No vacuums, all had a dustpan and broomstick!

The teachers didn’t care; they were unspecific…
Volatile youths, spitting, swearing and unhygienic,
Educating in our school? Best learn survival… so tragic!
There always seemed to be some sort of epidemic…
Most whippersnappers got measles, worms or were tularaemic,
School life was about surviving bullies, all unsymmetric!

Threats were rife; each street had a gang, all misanthropic!
Most homes were two-up-two down, bare and mephitic,
But believe me, I’m not intending to be a critic…
Life was what we were born into, not to us, pyrrhic…
We made the best of what we didn’t have. Life was quixotic,
Poverty drove some of us to do things mildly despotic!

To survive each day, we had to be chameleonic…
Keep alert for gangs, any contact, you must be phlegmatic…
You’d still stand a chance of this proving pyrrhic …
You’d still get name called, and a wallop, many a skrik,
Fear turned many of us into being schizophrenic!

Inchcocks Memories

Inchcock Ode – Welcome to my world

Welcome To My World

Upon waking, Inchcock will often do a sensual check on any ailment attacks or changes. Sometimes, a discussion will occur twixt Inchcock and a specific ailment, typically one that has been giving him a little extra pain and, or hassle. When these occur, the silly old goat usually makes an Ode and graphic about his demented, dreamt up, nonsensical clap-trapping, as below from an old one.

For some unknown reason, the idiot asked me to show this graphic, as he puts it: ‘Wot I Made!’ cause he’s seems to think it is one of his rare, almost non-existent successes?

As his Alto-Ego, I will now let the uneducated, lonely old fool take over the writing of this rubbish. TTFN.

Once the physical activity starts in the morning, I often wait for the mental conditioning to begin; it usually catches up within a few minutes. It can take hours, but not often.

They were tackled then.

Sphygmomanometer showed Sys and Dia, readings high,
The Wee-Wee chart: I need to drink more! Gin & Dry?
Would it help if I go to a detoxify?
On this mind of mine, I cannot rely!

A quick look for any new damage, I don’t want to oversimplify,
Another bruise was found on the top of my left thigh…
An unknown round welt, right arm, that I can’t quantify,
The torso seems to have started to transmogrify?
Heart Op Scars raised, itching again, certainly uglify!
The broken Terence Tooth hit the pain-boards bullseye!
Shuddering, Shoulder Shirley’s eased off, but why?
Hit my head on the stove but didn’t get a black eye!.

The following tasks were ablutionary,
Not worn any socks since about July,
Cold, Brr! should I dare to use Sock-Glide Georgina?
I’ve no medical aids that are any meaner!
One Sock-Glide injury needed micro-surgery!
Hickeys, bruises, cuts, and a bleeding periphery,
Stubbed toes, damaged knees, I felt all fluttery…
Should I put my socks on? I recalled the imagery,
Of the last time, I fought Georgina, bitterly!
I chickened out of wearing socks; what a mockery!.

Anytime in the next three hours, cometh Meridian,
An incredible variety of Carers, one who is Balearian,
Unless I misheard her, and she is Algerian?
Not that it matters, none of them shows me derision,
An American gal, English, British, and an Assyrian,
All make a positive impression!

Porcelain Throne Sessions

Ah, every visit is a different evacuation, indeed.
Some days it can be half an hour, then I’ve only peed!
Rock-solid torpedoes, agony, things bleed!

Next time, liquid, 30 seconds, messy but what speed!

Housework Tended To

Took the chance to clean the fridge up, ready for the delivery to arrive shortly – well, I hope so.

Iceland Delivery Arriveth!

Then, on with Prepping Josie’s Meal

Got it delivered almost on time for her.

I was so proud of how Josie liked the look and smell,
The beef arrived two hours later, took in the dish for the gal.
Water chestnuts, potatoes, tomatoes, beef chunks as well,
Leeks and onions, chilli, three beans, the lovely smell!
Seasoned with liquid smoke, paprika, beef flavour gel,
Said she loved the cream Pretzel,
Even called me an old Angel!
I mentioned the extra lidded pot for the Damsel,
To have later, quantity double,
Too long at her door, I did not dwell,
I sensed she was hungry… Oh, yes, I can tell!

End Car Park

End car park area busy today.

Evening Views

I shall have to go now. Most likely the evening Carer will crave my body, mind and bank account… Ahem!

Do we, Don’t We Get a TV?

The Tale Of TV Debate!

Mother wanted a TV set, I wanted a TV set, but Dad was content with the radio

Dear Mother as a domineering, bullying and intimidating woman, who usually got her way, via, violence, superbly applied intimidation, and if all else failed, would turn on the waterworks. But on the issue of us buying a TV, and I believe it is the only time, Dad stood his ground, and refused to buy or rent one!

Dad was content with his ‘Archers’,  ‘Billy Cotton Band Show’, ‘Take it from here,’ ‘Many Bindings In The Marsh’ and the ‘Navy Lark’. I tried to listen to the ‘Journey Into Space’ serial whenever I could, which fascinated me. But Dad wasn’t having, ‘Such rubbish to listen to, a man in space, Humph!’ Of course, it was almost comical if you listen to it today. Good news, though, for anyone interested; Occasionally, Radio Four Extra broadcast some episodes! ♥

Cast for The World in Peril & Operation Luna episodes

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Days Of Debates (Fights)

After days of arguments, fights, bad language, threats and utter pandemonium, we were no nearer to convincing Dad. Mother, not a Royalist in any sense, even tried to tempt Dad by telling him the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth 11 was being shown in two days time… He did hesitate for a moment, and inquired as to how much a TV would cost to buy or rent? Mum got the local paper with the adverts on it: A Ferguson TV, she told Dad, would only cost us £39, Wigfall’s rental is 6/11d (35p) a week. Then we need a license, that’ll be £5… Dad was speechless, started gagging, and refused point-blank to us having a TV in the house! That was the end of that, for want of a better word, discussion!

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A Stroke Of Good Luck!

That day, we had new next-door neighbours arrive, the Hartleys. Mother (Name unknown), Father Leslie, and son Jack. I soon took to liking Jack, a little younger than I by a year or so. A tall lad, cheeky and cheerful most of the time, e had some great times as pair of vagabonds roaming the streets. Haha! They had just arrived from Kingston.

But, the highlight of the day was that they had to unload things and I gave them a hand, and I and spotted in the back of the van… A TV SET! And, Jack said it had both channels, BBC and ITV on it! Yes! By the time things were all in, I was given a condensed cream sandwich and mug of coffee for my helping. Then we watched some telly. The set was a combined one they had just bought last week, with a radio in it.

I thought, well this could be something to tell Dad about, then we might get a TV of our own… But when Leslie told me how much it cost them, I then realised there was not even a cat-in-hells chance of Dad spending £95 on a set! I was often invited by Jack, to go watch the TV when something was on that he thought I might enjoy. I vaguely recall seeing The Quatermass Experiment, which started my passion for the series. The daily screening time was very limited as I recall back then; 16:00 to 22:30hrs or thereabout. So little choice on the BBC.

One programme on the BBC Jack and I liked, was The Magic Circle. A magicians show, Magicians: George Grimmond, David Nixon and Col-Ling Soo on it as regulars. ITV on the other hand had a more varied choice by 1955. Including Lassie, Colonel March of Scotland Yard, and Hopalong Cassidy.

Not the actual Hartleys TV, but similar.

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As I mentioned earlier, the Quatermass series was the top for me on TV! Here are some photos found that stirred my memory box. So much so, that I’ve just sillily ordered some DVD’s from Amazon, three episodes of TV series and two films! Ah, well, hope I live long enough to view them! Hahaha!

The earlier versions of Quatermass film and TV series were not a disappointment, at all. They were very close to how I imagined it to be when I read the books!

Quatermass Photos, TV and Films DVD

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1953 Coronation On Someone’s TV

We moved from that unhappy home, after Mother had been on the run from the police for a couple of years, and after Brother Pete left to join the army, Dad & I moved to Sneinton Dale. Which turned out to be an even more horrendous place to live; Mother was caught and came home.

However, we did get a TV at last. Mother got it from Wigfalls,  they intention was that Wiggies call to empty the box, and anything over the 3/10p rental, is returned tohe client, in this case Mother! Whch meant a load of foreign coins and suitably-sized washers were in the box!

Anyway, she scarpered again, after another bout of conning people out of their cash, this time it was for three years before they got caught up with her, six months, into court. Ah well!

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That’s it folks!

More Later! Alligator.

Inchcock’s Visit to Doctor Frazakerly

My Most Memorable Visit To The GP, Ever!

My regular GP was 82-year-old Doctor Foley,
Who I rarely needed to call and see,
I went this time with blood in my pee,
I arrived and logged in with Nurse Emily…
Who said there a locum today, Doctor Frazakerly,
I waited my turn, reading a magazine called Jamboree,
The semi-naked girls in it surprised but sated me.

Emily called out, “Next patient, the Doctor is free!”
I entered the surgery of Dr Foley,
Doctor with pipe tobacco on his chest greeted me,
Told him my problem, “Lay on there, we’ll have a see…”
“Blimey,” he said, You’ve got a little one just like me!”
Hmm? Methought, this could get somewhat tacky?

He took a long time examining Little Inchie,
Should I make a dash now to get free?
I liked his gossip, though, familiar words, not snotty,
He swore a bit and declared his love of Notts Country,
So we spoke a while and assessed recent results in football?

Got me off the bench, telling me he used to live in Dundee,
Got me to strip to the waste… “Does he fancy me?”
The stethoscope was utilised, breath in, out for me…
Blood pressure taken told me to provide some wee…
My wee-weeing, he said he needed to see…
Came with me the WC…
The flow was bloodless and trouble-free.

He examined things again, we returned to the surgery,
Checked out my piles and then the boil on my knee,
He was pleasantly taking his time unctuously,
Check the lungs, tapping and chatting away cheerfully,
He cleaned his pipe, refilled it and said with some glee…
“You’re a delivery driver?” Showing his dedication and coactivity…
He wanted to do a grope test, for Hernias? I did agree…

He took his time while mentioning the new Notts County goalie,
Told me the East stand price is going up to 1/3d (5½p)
Eyed in my earholes, checked sight on the card, Blimey!
Thorough? I’ve been in here for about an hour and forty,
That’ll make me popular; I may get a thump, certainly vulgarity…
From the other patients, they’ll be going looney!
Getting dressed when all done, he even helped me!
Thanked him and left; I didn’t wait around… I did flee…
Missing trouble with the patients, homeward in haste I was bound!

I rushed straight back to the house, and my fiancee,
Got halfway there… I’d left the bike outside Dr Foley…
I wailed like a banshee!
Annoyed at my stupidity!

Part Of The Inchcock True Life Make Them Laugh Series

Inchcocks Escape to town No.5 – Wed 16th Dec 20: Oh, dearie me!

Out into the Drizzle

I arrived in town with aches and pains from the bus trip, I was already sorry I’d escaped! The bus ride was a battle between me keeping the trolley-guide from running away every time we took a corner, jammed the anchors on, went downhill, and my falling out of the seat! Harolds Haemorrhoids were stinging! I called in the Wilko store to get some of the Laundry freshener, which I did. I came out, with three of the granules, chocolate brazils, peanuts and a bottle of disinfectant.

I left and hobbled to the Poundland Shop, where I got carried away and frustrated. They had no pies, Dettol or filled BLT sarnies. After a physical battle with other shoppers breathing down my neck cause I was not moving fast enough, people running in front of me in the queue, I paid with the card at the checkout for the: Toffiffee box, Frazzles, White waste bags, Perle De Perle lemon desserts, Ginsters pasties, Microfibre cleaning cloths, can of stewed steak, Oxo cubes, Mint and lemon disinfectant, (Good for the overnight emergency grey wee-wee bucket, you know!) and a packet of Senna tablets.

Out in the drizzle, passing all the jolly, happy, sociable, kind, understanding, smiling, sweet-natured Nottinghamians, merrily going about their shoplifting and pickpocketing activities. Avoiding the pavement cyclists was risky!

Along Upper Parliament Street, and down King Street towards the Market Square. The wind was getting up, I was struggling controlling the three-wheeler guide, and getting the odd shower from the buses as they pulled up from the puddles. The toenails joined the piles in giving me some tender stinging as I limped down the hill.

I stopped at the bottom of Long Row opposite the tree, and took the time to just glance around, (in my Sherlock Holmesian Mode, here!), to access the mood of the Nottingham plebeians. The masks were being worn by, I’d estimate, 60% of the Nottingham great unwashed, Students, muggers etc., but I got the view that the masses, were not too content with life, but, who can blame them?

I limped across the Slab Square. I’d decided to go to the other Poundland Store on Wheeler Gate, in search of some Dettol disinfectant, and BLT sarnies. A sense of doom and gloom came over me as I crossed over, starving pigeons came down to me when I stopped a moment to try and wriggle the keet to free the toenails that had got tangled in the sock. They must have thought I was going have summat to eat, and hoped a few crumbs would fall to the floor?

Long Row looked terribly sad. Temporary and permanently closed stores everywhere, a desperate pigeon seeking fodder of some sort, and few Nottinghamians about! I got in the Poundland and had another struggle to get around, the feet and toes were harrowing painful now. I cheered a smidge when I found some Dettol lavender disinfectant on sale and got three bottles. As I meandered about I added, two part-baked baguettes, pork pie, a BLT sarnie, The wobbles came on when I got to the self-serve tills, I was embarrassed and in a pickle.

A young lady helped me out and picked up the dropped items and out them through for me. She was busy and kept nipping off to help others, and I started to all out of the shop with the trolley and bags hanging all over it, and the girl chased after me… I had not paid! Red-faced (it probably showed through the face-mask!) I returned and used the card…

Oh, heck! The machine would not take the card! I went into Panic-Mode. The young lady tried to calm me down, but all sorts of things were going through my mind, embarrassment being the biggest! I fumble around and found enough cash to pay, the lady was very calm about it. I thanked her and dug out a can from the trolley, of Vodka mix and gave it to her. When I got outside, I calmed down a bit, as I realised I’d used the card earlier at the other store, so the bak might have been being cautious, in case the card had been stolen and used?

I got to the slab square and noticed the large number of crows that were about. Someone had dropped some crumbs whatever, and the crows dived down attacking the pigeons? I had a good while before the bus was due, so I walked around the Council House and back along Long Row on the other side, to King Street. 

The Primark Store had bouncers and staff controlling the shoplifting customers as they queued up to do some pilfering. I don’t know how the stop stays in business. I rarely go in nowadays, its a large store with escalators and stairs, so I can’t go shopping there anymore anyway. But the times in the past I’ve seen kleptomaniacs and pickpockets at work when I did shop there, was phenomenal.

As I turned up King Street to go to the bus stop, the PAvement Cyclist git it blue, came withing inched of hitting me, and seemed totally unaware of it. I hoped my taking this photo might trigger him to ask me why I was photographing him, as he chatted to a fellow food deliverer. Then I could have told him! But, no!

The three Christian singers were out again further up the road, near the Brian Clough statue, its called speakers corner. They or one or more of them are regular attenders. The chap on the right with the guitar started this singing to the Lord off first. I’ve never seen him in long trousers, whatever the weather is like?

I got up to the bus stop and took this snap as I arrived there, it is sadly, indicative of the mood of the City Centre today. Drab! I caught a number 40 bus back home, glad I did, it is much quicker than the L9.

I was tired, in pain, mangled toenails, Duodenal Donald starting to kick-off, depressed, embarrassed, and oh, so keen and ready for fodder and sleep!

Inchcock – Thurs 19 Nov 20: Soylent Green Memories Prompted!

TFZer discrete meeting? Hahaha! ♥

Thursday 19th November 2020

Danish: Torsdag den 19 November 2020

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00:40hrs: It all happened in a sort of slow-motion, to start with. I semi-woke up and lay there pondering the upcoming opportunities this dedicated ‘Toilet Day’, of 12th November, had to offer.

What Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, Disasters, Failures, Stalemates, Mental-implosions, Frustrations, Defeats, Katzenjammers, Nonachievements, Babalaases, Pitfalls, Disappointments, Mysterious wonders of Woodthorpe Court: The Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, Hallucinations. Materialisations, Poltergeist, Lemures, Spectres, Spirits, Spooks, Eidolons, Wairuas, Kehuas, Manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum, to torment and frighten the bejesus out of me; that might present themselves this Thursday.

Oddly enough, as I was thinking of this ‘Dedicated Toilet Day’, as I was removing my potbellied, portly, wobbling, paunched-bellied body from the c1968 recliner, a borborygmic mini-explosion from the innards, signalled the expergefactorial need for the Porcelain Throne. I thought it would be a good idea, if I didn’t delay, and got to the Porcelain Throne with all haste! So, I did!

Not only did I get to the wet room without any bother, (Well, there was a short loss of balance, but that was my own fault for not catching it as I grabbed Metal Micky), and that only lasted a few seconds without any detrimental damage or injury.

What followed was most encouraging. This session was the even less painful, no enteralgia, no bleeding!

And comfortably evacuated; This is first-time that this has happened in many a month! Yee-Haa! But I knew this could not last for long. But I  enjoyed it while it lasted.

Mind you, the poo colour was a sort of green. Still, it made a change: super-easy passage, and a pretty new colour for me to photograph for the gastroenterologist’s Neurogenic bladder and bowel management record.

I was tickled-pink, started singing to myself! (The Young Ones – Cliff Richard) As I was getting up to sort the cleaning up, I spotted the gunk-cleaner on the shower floor, that I’d left to soak in last night – and had forgotten all about doing! Oh, dear!

I went out to the hallway and turned on the shower-power at the box. Back in and as carefully as I could, got the shower on and I sprayed the cleaner away…

But it looked far worse than it did before my orgulous bright-spark of an idea was used.

Humph and Knackwrangles!

And then, of course, to completely demolish the memory of the successful Throne session and semi-contentment of the marvellous evacuation; The moment I moved the showerhead into the right hand so I could turn off the water, and Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters failed, and the showerhead flailed all over the place. This resulted in my attempt to retrieve the moving water-jetting, hose-pipe like head, I had a tumble to the floor and got an early morning closed up shower, and soaked the jammy bottoms and me, and I got a few knocks new and bangs, in the process! Tsk!

The struggle to get back up, the cleaning and sorting out, were done in a silent, stewing mood, ruminating and chewing the cud; determined not to get in a sulky frame of mind at the return of my devil’s own luck, and eventually affirmed it as just a tribulation. I was pleased with myself then, at how I’d talked myself into just accepting things, knowing these incidents will only get worse as the neurotransmitters slowly die anyway. Confusingly, sometimes it’s like this, others, I get all het-up, cursing my fate, and start Duodenal Donald and Anne Gyna off, but not on this occasion? I sort of habituated, adapted to the situation. I’ve no idea why this is so, but I’m pretty content and stilled about things now.

I made a brew of Glengettie tea and realised than yet again, I’d not taken the evening medications! What an Ahntoisht, Shilmazel! So I took the evenings doses, and hope that I remember in size hours or so, to take the morning ones. Putz!

I carried out the Health Checks. The sphygmomanometerisationing first. But I didn’t fret over this reading, no doubt the falling over altercation had effected the reading, I’m sure.

The new thermometer did not work first try. Do I turned it off and back on again, and got this disappointingly low reading, again though, this is probably due to the fracas in the wet-room?

I got on the computer and started to update the Wednesday blog. Which was done in a reasonable time for once, the ailments seem to be feeling sorry for my tumble, and are being kind to me perhaps? (I might be losing it again here!)

I poddled to the wet-room, for another wee-wee, and when I got back, I noticed the veins in the left arm were almost luminescent? And, odd;y they looked a little greener than usual?  When I took this photo, I used the flash, and it came out looking more strange than it really looked, but I WordPressed it anyway, cause it looked so odd. A camera glitch? Anyway, it made me think of Soylent Green. Hahaha!

Of course, it might just be one of the resident Woodthorpe Court mysterious Eidolons, Goblins, or Aliens, that are checking out my innards. The Chilli-Meatballs last night might have confused them? Chortle! Cackle! Guffaw!

I got the updating finished and sent off. Then emailed the link.

Pinterested some snaps, the got the ablutions sorted out. Well, I started to anyway. But I remembered the morning dosages needed to be taken, so returned and tool them, then back to the wet-room.

I noticed as I stripped off (a horrible, harrowing thought for you, I’m sorry. Hehe!), that I must have picked up in the tumble. Pretty scratch, though! Hahaha!

The teeth cleaning went fine.

The shaving surprisingly, only brought about two tiny weeny nicks, not worthy of mention really, but it’s too late now, I have written it. Simper!

I found one of the miniature wounds from the Accifauxpas on the right-hand knuckle. I seem to have picked up some nicks and bruises, ain’t I? However, the showering, which was something I was a smidge concerned about with the balance not yet back to normal, went great! No Dizzy Dennis’s, there was not a single clout or banging into anything, I was well pleased again.

The medicating was as smooth as could be expected! No bleeding from Harold’s Haemorrhoids or Little Inchies fungal lesion! The dressing was only bothered temporarily by a dodgy-wobble getting the trousers on, but I remained on my feet, Oh. Yes! This is a better day, up to now! Perhaps, my prayer and a few words to Mr G the other day had got through? Or, not! Snortle!

I was in good form after the ablutions, and set about moving the hand-washed togs about, to nearer the heater, now they had stopped dripping.

That reminds me of when I was a whipper-snapper! Every Saturday morning, come rain or shine; after I’d set and laid the fire, and done my paper rounds, I had to go to Sanderson’s Tripe & Cow Heel shop, on Arkwright Street, and wait (sometimes for hours), to claim the ham bone, once enough had been sliced and sold, 3d (Threepence it was)  And heaven help me if I couldn’t get it! Dad would not be happy with me at all!

This look like the original shop, I could find a photo of when they were open. Gawd the place smelt gorgeous! Once a fortnight I had to some tripe as well. Every week, the jellied pork dripping they sold, 9p a pound (weight) was bought as well. Oh, the memories are flooding back now! Of course, when Dad was working on a Saturday, meant I had a few hours of waiting for him to arrive home. Which, in the rare event that one of the three items was unavailable; meant I had to wait for the clips around the earhole longer.

Happy days, rough, hard work. Mater kept disappearing to avoid the police, so muggins had set the fire every morning! Do the paper rounds so kindly got for me by Dad, the cooking and cleaning too. But I did feel needed, wanted, and the odd belting!

But I was content, I knew no other life! There were plenty of lads worse off than I was… I’m waffling again, Sorry about that. It’s a bad habit of mine, wandering off, on some unrelated topic. Still, I do enjoy getting these memory-prompting meanderings.

I got the black bags gathered and onto the three-wheeler-guide trolley, and had a job to do it, but got it out of the door, along,  the lift lobby, and into the waste room, and deposited all the small bags down the chute.

It was deathly quiet, and no signs of any tellurians. Even the ‘Hum’ was quieter today.

Even Herbert has only been heard on two occasions up until now. I’m beginning to worry about this. He’s not one for persiflage, more your sort of taciturn, reserved, reticent, antisocial type.

The walk back to the flat along the newly, highly-attractive, ornamentally decorated and floored lift lobby.

It felt so. Haha! 

Getting into the three flat’s lobby was easy enough this time, and at that moment, I was feeling better than I have for a few days, getting tired, but that’s to be expected.

But, when it came to getting into the front door, that’s the maroon one, that the workers laying the floor for us all, decorated with some gunk for me, and left it there, and I have no intention of cleaning up – Swine!, I felt the weariness take a strong grip on me, and the missing so far today, Dizzy Dennis kicked into gear.

But I was not mentally tired, only bodily. Does that make sense? I went out on the balcony to take a couple of photos of the busy scene down below on Chestnut Walk.

Blimey, we had a traffic jam! Hahaha!

I spotted some crows in the distance and snapped them, but it was not a good shot. Shame. I wanted to post them to the TFZ site, Lona might have appreciated them.

Doing some updating on this blog, and I thought I heard a clunk, it may be the belated INR WArfarin results and new dosages. It was, and the dosages had changed. Meaning, because no one from the Clinic, Anticoagulation or Deep Vein Thrombosis had informed me from the Monday test, I have been taking too few Warfarins tablets since then. This Coronvirus is most likely killing a few people without the virus!

The landline chirped and flashed. It was some woman on a recorded message again, telling e they had taken £75 something from my account for ‘Prime’, if I want to cancel this press One, so I did. Waffling on a woman with either a Chinese or Indian/Pakistani accent – I couldn’t tell if it was recorded or real voice, she was going that fat, and without a cat in ells chance of understanding anything she was saying. I rang off.

Dizzy was joined by Anne Gyna, and I gave up on the computer and got the nosh prepped.

I had a good sniff at the out of date potato cakes, and luckily, they passed the sniffing nasal-assessment, so went in the oven, and were added to the tray.

The Chilli-Con-Carne, with the added tomatoes, mild chilli seasoning, Squid vinegar, garden peas and gravy, tasted jolly good!

There was so much of it though, you can see here that I couldn’t eat it all.  Titter! Seriously, it was a worthy 9.3/10 for a Flavour rating!

I was doing the washing up when Dizzy Dennis and BLB (Balance-Loss-Brian) allied to attack me. From here onwards, memory, of the night was enveloped it a vague mistiness.

When I woke up later – there was no scribbling on the notepad. I had a criminally, painful backache, and the shoulder was so painful. Signs of an Accifauxpa? But no memory. I’d not taken the evening medications, and was wearing the reading glasses?

Another mystery of life in Woodthorpe Court. Hey-Ho! 

Gawd the lower back hurts?

Inchcock Today – Tuesday 6th October 2020: Cock-ups and cannelloni ragù. Hehe!

TFZers in Paradise!

Tuesday 6th October 2020

Welsh: Dydd Mawrth 6 Hydref 2020

National Do Something Nice Day

01:45hrs: I bestirred, to the combined calls for a wee-wee and the Porcelain Throne. I almost casually exited the second-hand, c1968, rickety, none-working recliner, caught my balance, grabbed Metal-Mickey, and made my way to the wetroom. (I harboured the silly idea, of getting my head down again after the evacuations, what a plonker!) but it was not to be!

I got down on the raised seat and waited for some motion to begin. I quietly whistled a little… picked at my nose, then got the crossword book from the floor cabinet. A little later, the agony started! The usual activity, it stopped moments later, and I was left suffering, waiting again, and nothing happened for ages!

I even stood up and took photographs of the pins and plates. Still, no action!

Then, expeditiously, the evacuation almost shot out as if it were in an awful rush, kerplonk and sounds of disturbed water, and it was all over. The pain died down, and I let the relief flood over and through me!

Poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids suffered, much bleeding. Got the Germoloid ointment used, and had a good clean up, and sanitising session.

Off to the kitchen, and took a Senna and sachet of Macrogol, with the morning’s medications. I must remember to ask Champion 500 metre runner, ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), and Warden Deana to please ring the Chemist for me, to tell them I will not last for medications until next Saturday. Also, to ring the Doctors for me to book an appointment for the DHC checks. (It’s all go, gerrin’ old!) I had a good guzzle of the inept, not-up-to-par, weak, feeble, found-wanting, Peptac, as I could feel Duodenal Donald brewing up for an attack! It was so cold this morning, too. Well, I felt chilly, anyway.

I got on the computer, an awful lot of upgrading to do on Monday’s post. And…

Another summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived! Argh! I hobbled hastily to the Throne and got seated, expecting the worst – and I was not disappointed either!

I was exasperated to find out, apart from things moving a lot quicker, the pain and discomfort were as bad as the last visit! Still, yer don’t like to complain, does yer. Hehehe!

Back to the computer, stupidly thinking I’d get a crack-on with this, and… Liberty Global Virgin media internet went down again. And they have just put up the cost of my internet and landline phone rentals gone up again!

As Virgin’s $19m earning, CEO Mike Fries said: Liberty Global’s agreement with Telefónica to combine Virgin Media and O2 in the UK presents a big chance to cross-sell products, including potentially targeting lower-end customers. What an unreliable, over-paid, avaricious, grasping, acquisitive, covetous, greedy, rapacious, mercenary, materialistic, Mafia-controlled, quomodocunquizing,  nasty-piece of work his! But I’ll not get into a slanging match, and name-calling (much!), over the parsimonious philargyrist, the Knackwrangler doesn’t bother me! Oh, no!

Fries is also Executive Chairman of Liberty Latin America (LLA), a leading broadband and mobile operator in Chile, Puerto Rico, the Caribbean and other parts of Latin America. LLA serves 11 million broadband, video, voice and mobile subscribers across 21 consumer markets and generates $3.9 billion of annualized revenue. LLA was split off from Liberty Global to focus purely on organic and strategic growth in the region. Fries also serves on the corporate boards of Grupo Televisa and Lionsgate Entertainment, and other money-grabbing Corporations. He’s even developed xyrophobia, judging by this picture?

And, don’t you go thinking that I am jealous of his beautiful wife, billions of $s invested and stashed away in offshore accounts, his $19m salary, him having hair or his good looks, either. Oh, no! I got carried away a smidge there, sorry. Where was I?

While Mr Fries pathetic service was down, I put the Canon camera on the charge.

I went to make a brew of Glengettie Gold tea, in between the odd wee-wee, and tried out the new jar-lid gripper tool, on a previously unopenable (for me anyway), a jar of Barton’s beetroot. Much to my surprise, it worked! I must let Amazon know about this, then they can put the price up. Like they seem to be doing lately on so many things that muggings here is interested in. Huh!

The internet came back on. (Please don’t CEO Fries know about this, he’ll only put the charges up again!) Spit!

So, after 4hrs-25m, I got the updating done for yesterday’s blog. I posted the blog to WordPress, sent off the Email link. Then as I was making a start on Facebook catching-up, I realised that I needed to get the Ablutions done, else I might miss the Iceland delivery, and I need to get to see Deana on a begging-for-help mission straight after the delivery. So, the computer was sent to Sleep-Mode, and off to the wet room.

Ablutions result, Report!: Too early to use the noisy shower, so had a stand-up wash. The teeth-cleaning was a little painful, I kept catching the cracked tooth, Tsk! One, I say, One dropsy!

The saving went well—one tiny cut of the ear-hole, and only four dropsies.

I got a bit keen on the body-scrubbing and set Harold’s Haemorrhoids bleeding, but very little pain caused. Two dropsies only!

The towelling, one dropsy and no bother, nae knocking anything over or off anything, and zero toe stubbings and walking into anything! Brilliant!

I took the photos on the right of the legs, with the Kodak, while the other camera was on charging. The first picture, I must have got the shales, cause I can’t recall meaning to take it! The legs looked in great condition. The leg ulcer was tingling a bit.

Now then, this Kodak is beating me. I found a total, out of seven shots, they had all been duplicated? Sone twice and two of them five times? I’m never going to cope with or understand this camera! Sob!

On leaving the wet room, I did a good job of hitting my right shoulder on the door frame. Ug!

Got dressed and the Iceland man cometh with the fodder. Good and early today. The Ragù had arrived, but no grated cheese – which I had planned, like last week, to spread a dollop of it on top of the tray, before cooking it. I got one of the meals in the fridge to start defrosting before cooking it late on. The other freezer bits went in the trays without any bother this week. The other stuff went in the fridge, apart from the apple pies. Then I got the much-belated Health Checks done. Better late than never, I suppose, Hey-ho and so what? Hahaha!

The SYs was still a smidge high, the other two readings seemed to be satisfactory, at least.

I got the kettle on for a brew of the delightfully tasty Thompsons Punjana tea.

Then, got the stick thermometer and tooketh the body temperature, with the scarily difficult to operate and understand Kodak camera. Note how bright all the pictures seem to be? However, the temperature ar 35.7°c was far higher than of late.

When it came to my sorting these photos out, I found two of the Sys BP, and five of the thermometer, all slightly different. They were taken on Auto, as well. What am I doing wrong? Grrr!

I got some waste bags made up, and tool them with me on my way top see Deana and Julie, the ILCs. Got the bags down the shaft without any hassle, and the lift down to the ground floor. I met and had a quick natter with Penny, nice gal she is.

Out and to the Wardens interrogation and strip search office, in Winwood Court. Hahaha! I ask Deana, and she said she’d phone them and let me know the appointment time. I thanked her and scooted (scooted, me? Hehe!), back to the apartment. No rain or wind yet. The weather was nice, too! (By gum, I’m in humour-mode today).

I got in, and back on the computer, and realised I’d forgotten to mention about the prescriptions not being delivered. Dang, blast, bother and Claptickleisations!

Moments later, the landline burst forth in tune and flashing. It was the pleasant District Matron Nurse, to ask many questions and wanting to know how I’m doing. This prompted my Stuttering Stephany replies.

Jackie was most patient with me. After many caring questions, we covered most of my ailments. She then asked if it was alright, for her to ask the Doctor if she would supply some ‘Keep the Stolls’ soft capsules on the monthly prescriptions, I thanked her and said, yes, please!

Then rang the Pharmacy for me about my not having enough medications to last until next Saturday, I’d expected them to arrive last Saturday. Bless her, she said she’d ring them for me and call back.

Later, Julie rang back. The prescriptions will be delivered, on Thursday, and she gave me a number to ring her on if had any problems. This made me feel proper cared-for! The Chemist, Deepak, is going to send me an email later. We spoke a little longer, and I thanked her and got the telephone number on my diaries straight after.

Then as I was still trying to get this blog started, I remembered, that Thursday is the day for one of my scans, bowel and bladder, or maybe both to be done? If the prescriptions do arrive, and I’m out, the problem is going to get more complicated than ever. So I rang the number the nurse gave me to explain the situation.

I got a recorded message that I could not understand, then some canned music, next a lady came on the line, but I could not hear what she was saying. After I mentioned this, her voice came clearer. I told her of my problem, and what had happened. She said she would pass on the message details. I thanked the lady and waited for a callback. (Which didn’t come)

Then Deana rang back, to tell me the appointment has been made for 31st October, at 11:25hrs. I thanked her furiously and got the date on the Google calendar.

Herbert was busy today, must be a big model he’s doing. Tap, tap, crunch! Hehe!

The Haemorrhoids gave me a signal that things were not right. Went sharpishly to the wet-room. To check things out, and the blood flowed! Changed the PPs, then washed and left the cloths soaking in disinfectant in the sink.

Then my thoughts turned top fodderisationing! I got the meal out of the fridge, and with no cheese delivered, I got the last of the cheese slices out, and covered the tray with them, left them out to defrost completely. Better than nowt!

Then I went on Your Area ENews, to search for up to date Coronavirus figures:

Tighter restrictions to stem the “worrying” rise in coronavirus cases in Nottingham are expected “on or before Friday”, the city’s public health director has said.

The news comes after a substantial surge in Covid-19 cases over the past few days, with the city’s infection rate currently around 382 per 100,000 people – Link: The sixth highest in the country.

Oh, flipping ‘eck!

It is long past my head-down time. Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters and Weary William are making typing impossible without mistakes. Going to get the meal prepared.

The cannelloni ragù was burnt on the top, but that was the plan. It looked terrible. But tasted just fine. I added some beetroot on top of it, now I could get the lid off of the jar with the new tool – I’m sorry I bothered, very hard and tasteless beetroot! Not so the ragù, that was delicious. Taste-rating: 7.5/10.

Got the pots, such as they were, washed and a shirt hand-washed. I took these pictures with the Nikon, of the view from the kitchen window, the first three, then five minutes late, the other two. What a swift change.

Medications, including Senna, Macrogol, and walloped pathetic Peptac down my gullet.

As I was drifting off to sleep, no problem tonight, the old leg ulcer itched like crazy, it felt like I had maggots under the skin. Hehehe!

Zzzz!

.

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

Bear with me; these are hard to find…

At birth, I lived through Mother’s fag ash dropping on me,

I had Double-Pneumonia at the age of three,

Sister Jane was almost adopted, to Italy, she did flee,

Brother Pete, escaped, good for him, went in the army,

Mother running away, the police wanted her, you see,

Which left just poor old Dad and me,

Doing the cleaning, shopping, and two paper-rounds, that was Inchy!

I survived being thrown in the Nottingham Canal,

Clinging to a barge rope, without much hope,

I was rescued by Brain, a neighbour, and a real pal,

Hauled out, was taken home, full of hope,

Got a belting off of Dad, and scrubbed with carbolic soap!

GC Young

Jane away in Italy still,

Life was for us both, a bitter pill,

We’d both had our sad times, but still,

I started work, bought a bike that would go uphill!

Duodenal ulcer, Anne Gyna I acquired easily enough,

Got shot at work, and a new heart fitted,

Fron flat to flat, I flitted,

Got made redundant, Cancer zapped, not fritted,

Job searching failed, hopes, attritted,

My desires, faith, and plans buffetted!

GC stick

Then along came Peripheral Neuropathy ailment,

 Jane, back from Australia, accompanied me,

To and from the hospital, she was heaven sent!

Then the stroke, I was a broken bloke,

Months in care, after the stroke,

Slowly, recovery began to cloak,

Bits of the old Inchcock, showed, bespoke,

And I knew something more would wroke!

Then the diabetes was found,

And things got worserer, all around,

When Saccades-Sandra, was also found!

But, my hopes and aspirations remain,

Although I am no longer sane,

I’m ready for the challenges again…

I just wish there was a little less pain!

I fang you!