First, a few words to explain why this blog is as pathetic as it is
❶ I’ve lost so much time with Liberty-Global Virgin Media going down, I lost count of how many times in the last two days!
❷ Then, today (Saturday), Facebook started doing the same thing!
❸ I took a tumble on Friday, which left me with the shakes.
❹ The eyes seem worse today; it’s a struggle.
❺ Shaking, Shaun returned.
❻ Eyesight still poor
FRIDAY 20th MAY
Good morning; I didn’t do this blog until Saturday evening. There are very few memory notes on the pad and not many photos to help the grey cells out. Facebook was going off again so often, and Liberty-Global – Virgin Media. So this is not going to be very erudite… not that it ever was. There will no doubt be some guesstimating and missed events.
Up at 01:30hrs to get the previous day’s blog completed. WP Reading. Comments, and I pressed on for hours to get the blog done and posted. Facebooked until it, and Liberty-Global Virgin was going down so often, I gave up. Try to catch up later.
Carer Valerie called, and I had the shakes at the time, which worried her a bit; bless her. I was still a bit unsteady when the Morrison delivery arrived, but when he left the packages in the doorway and had scooted, I started to come round nicely. I took some photos while I got the things away.
Still, the fridge didn’t look overfull to me? Could it be the eyes? Or a ghost coming into the flat and eating my stuff while I slept? I put it down to the Mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, or ectoplasms, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind? I sorted things out but could sense, no idea how, but this happens sometimes, a feeling that either an involuntary right-leg, Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was on the way and building up in preparation. It was a tingling sensation up and down my right side, where the stroke affected me. Huh! I decided to take as much care as possible to ensure there would be no ending up on the floor again today!
Herbert kicked off with the clattering, seemingly forever dropping things, drills, hammers, and meal boxes… Humph!
Arrived, I was not too good, and she noticed it. Said I was looking sweaty and pale, bless her.
Ablutions, then blogging away, making little progress. The computer went off again, so I made a meal; I can’t really remember if it was this one or not.
I recall going in the wet room, but I must have had a funny turn cause if I’d worked it out right, I was in there for an hour or maybe fell asleep on the Throne?
I had no idea who the evening caller was; I wasn’t even sure one had called… no… one did… I reckon. Shakes bad.
At it again. Clunk-thudding it.
Ah, I think it was Carer Cheeky Charlie who called on me, but… maybe not.
Got to sleep easier tonight, but the jumping awake was annoying.
SATURDAY 21st MAY
Gave up trying to sleep and rose around 01:30hrs.
Worked on blogging, no washing. Did my best.
Serene Sarah, I’m sure. Or Cheeky Charlie, was it? Both are lovely gals.
After she’d gone, I went to use the Throne. I was doing alright, had a wash while in the wet room, and as I turned towards the door, I had an involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance! I hit the wall and slid to the floor, and made a bruising contact with the floor in no time! It had to come; I expected this yesterday. Minutes afterwards, the lower back pain started and still has not stopped. I’ll see it goes, but I may call the NHS 111 number if I am forced to seek assistance. I won’t do it now cause the pain may ease off as time goes on. I’m such a hero… Hehehe! I’ve been a little wobbly on the legs since the Accifauxpas.
I’ve been a bit unlucky this week. The 40 bus did not stop to pick us up at the bus stop. The tumbles and knocks this week. Walked into doorframes, dropped a bowl of potatoes and cheese, burnt my hand, and slipped off of kerb hobbling up Winchester Street… so, everything is normal there then.
At it again. Clunk-thudding.
The Carer is due anytime now. Got a wash and got into the jammies. Then remembered the potatoes I’d put in the slow-cooker 13 hours ago… Mild Panic Mode Engaged, and shot off to check on things in the kitchen…
As I was getting them out of the pot with tongues, I got a hickey as I caught my little finger in the gripper. Oh, heckithump! Not only were they too soft, each one had blackies on the inside when I sliced them, So they are even looser now.
Carer Valerie arrived and asked me if I needed any help with the spuds. I declined her offer but thanked her. She got the tablets given to me and went on her way, taking the waste bags with her. ♥
I got back to the now lesser-blackeyed potatoes I’d sliced, and put them in the oven, to hopefully crisp them up a smidge. Got some tomatoes o the plate ready and two slices of imitation pork. But…
I cast my mind back to when I had to cook and clean for Dad. I’d got no bread, well I had, but it was in the freezer. So I got a few slices out, put them in an empty saucepan with the garden peas, and hoped they would thaw out before I needed them. No freeze, no fridge, no hot water other than what we boiled on the fire and stove, and no electricity (but we did get it later). Easy peasy when we got DC electricity fitted, gone were the candles… and damned good riddance! How the hell did I manage?
I checked on the potatoes, now sliced and in the oven. The sun was beginning to go down, and I took a few minutes pareidoliaing at the cloud formations. II thought I saw a mouth and lips or an imitation black hole that was white. Hehehe!
Got the fodder served up. The slow cooker and sliced and oven-baked potatoes were terrible, possibly my worst effort in years. But everything else was fine and tasty. Taste: 6.5/10.
Off for a wee-wee and had another figure-finding session at the kitchenette window’s clouds. Sadly, no pictures or visions were seen in the clouds this time. Although looking at them now (Sunday morning), I think I spot a monster in there flying?
As I searched for Sweet Morpheus, Herbert gave me a last short mechanical serenade with a whirling, whining sound to round off, decrescendo style. Possibly, an underpowered drill chugging? I mentally wished the aloof Laodicean a good night.
Seems to be a question over which part this is? Haha!
Breaking News – Deadly Caterpillars found in Nottingham!
What with swine fever & poisonous insecticide…
Covid, Putin, bird flu, which is worse? You decide!
Drunk drivers, murderers, and a shortage of cyanide…
We’d better sort out the best choice for suicide…
Jump off a high building, shoot yourself, or use Fungicide?
Easy for me, I’ll take 10 Warfarins and a few Furosemide
The kids would be heartbroken if their dog died…
But would self-immolation really be justified?
Maybe, cause Putin’s war will soon go worldwide!
I’ll try to catch the court case to see the sentence,
Unless the lily-livered judge decides on his innocence,
All he’ll have to do is show the mock judge reticence,
The judge will bring up some 1895 jurisprudence…
See that the lad didn’t mean to kill, using grandiloquence…
The beak congratulates the lawyer on his great defence…
Fines the lad £50 and pays his court cost expense!
I keep seeing in these reports; the word Sherwood…
Me living there midst of the violence and blood…
Means I don’t feel safe, as any innocent would!
I think I should have left, absquatulated…
Mayhaps the miscreants are misunderstood?
Whatever happened to an eye for an eye, blood for blood…
Christs, it’s dangerous living in Sherwood!
An Angel of Mercy came to the rescue,
Gave no name, a white van driver, too!
Would you think he was from Nottingham, do you?
Probably from Wales, Devon or Crewe?
According to the court records, (a chap here works there). This animal has had 91 convictions for 41 offences. He’s awaiting trial for four fraud charges, attempted robbery, carrying a knife in a public place, and demanding money from several taxi drivers! There are another 44 charges that were ‘dropped’ through lack of evidence (that seems a lot?) and domestic abuse. Five years and five months, with eight months for the eleven fraud charges. I need a mathematician here… how long did the scumbag get for each crime he committed, please?
We’ll trace the suspects earnestly!
No doubt, using their renowned synergy,
And cunningly concealed sagacity…
And scribble a note on the back of the hand!
By pure default.
This man’s a dolt!
Parole Board idiots let him leave clink early, They should be prosecuted and sued, clearly… They got it wrong yet again, then surely… There are not up to the job, pathetically! As Hughie Green said, ‘I mean this sincerely’… The Parollers should be sacked and fined, but severely!
Mayhaps in prison, Brown could train… The Parole Board idiots again… Tell them they are thick, nonsane! Freeing scumbags early is transmundane, They’ll commit crimes again, fly off in a plane… Laugh at them, call them names profane!
A murderer, drug dealer and a crackbrain… They have been freed this year, have they no brain? Everyone who was freed and committed a crime again! I’ve proved at catching runaways; you are inane… Parole Boarders have no morals to maintain, Freeing murderers to kill again is inhumane!
Parole Boarders are as guilty… of this, I am certain… Off the crimes committed by the freed-early lurdane! Are the idiots’ drug addicts, or do they use enflurane? Cause the arseholes free killers again and again?
We (UK) have 246 Parole Board members. It’s agreed, The highest-paid member gets £166,560 indeed! The Prime Ministers’ pay, this does exceed! Justice for the innocents killed by Murderers freed… The wife, husband or child victims’ families…
Guilty Parole members should be locked up or sauteed, On bread and water, with the occasional fried centipede, I wouldn’t say I hate or loath those that intercede… Indeed one or two must-have accurately refereed? Too many freed killers kill again! For revenge or greed!
Woke at 04:20, and I rose from the recliner at 05:00hrs. Why the time gap? Cause I was getting memories of a dream I’d had written on the memory pad to put on here. Wee-wee, and onto the computer.
Everyone in the flats got a text message; no more new tenants were allowed in the apartments. In five years, whoever is left will be transferred into wooden bungalows on the grounds of the City Hospital. I was looking forward to living long enough and moving.
The social room at Winwood Court was converted into a pool room with about twelve tables. We all had to compete, and those with the highest scores would get the first choice of wooden cabins to move into. I was told by a Nottingham City Homes manager, “So? I pointed out that I was colour-blind and had cataracts, glaucoma, and saccades. Roger’s only got one hand, and Ethel is as blind as a bat… anyone considered not social enough will be sent to live in the Salvation Army Hostel. So let’s see some willingness and effort!” I apologised.
Blurry memories then, involving a ski slope, toolboxes, and a day trip out on buses for all of us to Skegness. Ethel and I caught the train home after leaving us behind.
On the day of the move, we all set off walking the mile and a bit with guards and Carers. We advanced in single file and long line, all with suitcases, wheelies, etc. Most of us got lost on the City Grounds. Well, I did. Then after finding the others, I was sent to a Bed & Breakfast place in Newcastle. They booked me a train for midnight.
I was sleeping in a corridor, and someone woke me. Somehow or other, I was in the final of the pool competition, and I didn’t win a single game in the qualifying stages? I don’t recall playing this match at all?
Suddenly, many of us were walking back out of the City Hospital grounds, same again, guards, staff, single file. We walked through a Council House Estate, but I had no idea where we were going and why. But I ended up in a coal cellar… Then shot awake!
I went to make a brew of JS Extra Strong… and clouted my right knee against the cabinet corner. Made the brew and left it to stew. Then needed to use the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence was losing his grip a little on the evacuation. So, much less time was wasted on cleaning up.
I took an early morning shot of the view from the kitchen window.
I’m hoping that the JS food delivery will be early, and they will deliver the flowers for Jillie.
So, it will leave me plenty of time to get things ready to get down to Jillie’s house with the flowers, bank, and shopping at the Ozan store. I’m hoping they have some of the Herb veg pork in stock and have a nosey around for any other delights that may take my fancy. Hehehe! Apart from Jillie! 💙
Richard arrived, handing me an SD card I could have, damned decent of him, bless him. He had another call, so again could not stay for a chinwag, but I appreciated his generosity. He should be back again the following Monday.
The Sainsbury delivery arrived. Thanks to tp the incompetency of Money-Mad Fries, the $23 million a year boss at Liberty Global, I had no distractions from the no-signal internet on the computer. So I got on with sorting the things delivered out to storage.
As you can see here on the left, fresh foods are topped up and a couple of treats. But they have sent pork pate with pork, not the vegetarian, so that will have to be found a home. There is plenty of date on it, so maybe Richard can have it on Monday. Also, and as well, and besides: Three items short out of stock, but to avoid getting substitutes, like shoe polish for waffles, I ticked the ‘Do Not Substitute’ Button… Cunning? After packing things away, the fridge didn’t look overfull? Had I missed something? Bags of room in the refrigerator still. Have I lost a load of nosh or something? I pondered… I have been known to do this several times a day! Then realised, no yoghourts, no cakes and no leeks, I’ll make an order for Morrisons later.
Not the same story with the freezer, mind you. Well, cram-packed, that is. In fact, I’ve got freeze burns and bruises on my fingers as I fumbled about taking stuff out and rearranging things to make more room for the new stuff squashed and levered and bashed food into the drawers. I felt a smidge smug after sorting it all out! Hehe!
I made the order for Morrisons for Sunday. By which time there should be a little more room. I called Jillie to see which flowers she would prefer, and the gal opted for the roses; nothing romantic was involved in that, I’m too old, and she is too beautiful. But I still love her.
Off to get ablutions. No rush; I think I can take my time and still catch the 10:30hr bus down the hill. I’m not joking here: Harolds’s Haemorrhoids and Little Inchies Fungal Lesion were not bleeding! No bleeding, shaving, nasal clearing or teeth cleaning! Honestly!
These are never pain-free, as you would expect. But nothing was extreme pain-wise; even ointmentating the lesion had an acceptable Argh-Level!
Fair enough, poor old right-knee Arthur Itis and Cathleen Cartilage came off painfully when I was leaving after doing the medicating when an involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about proper leg dance kicked off. I hit my knee on the door frame. I recall being even more annoyed than usual cause everything had gone so well in the session. Got dressed and checked the items needed, and I set off…
THE TRIP OUT!
I put the rebagged flowers in the trolley walker in carrier bags, with some plonk for the Wardens and Jillie. Out, locked the door, in the lift, along the link corridor into Winwood Court, to the Wardens Holding-Cell Offices. Haha! Dropped the Alstroemeria Bouquet for Generaloberstess, Ice skating champion, Warden Julie, and Desktop Dancer and Obersturmbannfuhreress Warden Dean this week. Wished the gals well and out to the bus stop… this was unbelievable!…
I arrived at the bus with almost perfect timing. Four other tenants, who I greeted, were at the bus shelter. I was standing near the kerbside with my bus pass in hand… The 40 Bus sped into and around the turning island… and ignored us all, didn’t slow down an iota, – and he sped back out again? The folks were livid! Shaking fists at the departing bus, shouting, swearing… I think this may have annoyed them somewhat!
I set off wobbling along with the walker-guide trolley. I couldn’t get annoyed with the bus driver until I found out why leaving us. He may well have just got a message on the RT about a family member taking ill? I set off down Winchester Street towards Jillie’s house at the bottom of the road on the left. The right knee caused me some discomfort en route, but knowing I was just about to meet Jillie eased things considerably. Hehe! ♥
I took my time and got to her door. It was a pleasure to see her smiling face as she helped me up the steps with the trolley. I handed her the roses, and I got a kiss for them and the plonk. She was working on and off in the other room. She made me comfy in a chair and put cushions around me – yer can’t ask for better treatment!
We had some chinwags, and later, she signed off work on her computer to go with me to the cashpoint and shop. What an angel!
As we were waiting to cross over to the bank, Jillie said: There’s a cashpoint at Ozan’s shop. Let’s go there. So we did! She helped me back down the steps, and we chinwagged on the short trip to the bank machine.
It was terrific shopping with Jillie. She looked after me like she would a grandfather; I thought of her as a daughter. She dealt with staff for me cause she knows my hearing problems, and I got some vegetarian and pork meats, amongst other items. We walked back up Winchester Street, where her house was, hugged, and departed. She left me at the bus stop, bless her cotton socks.
I’d just missed a bus, so I decided to walk carefully up the hill, taking some photographs en route.
Halfway up Winchester Street Hill, the clouds caught my eye again, and I took this snap on the right. It came out rather artistically? Well, maybe not, then. Getting towards where the road changes name. To the right, it becomes Mapperley Rise, and to the left, at the building you see, it continues as Winchester Street. I think years ago it led to the railway station, now gone! In fact, the flats were built on the site!
As I turned onto Chestnut Way, where Winwood Heights are, I noted on the verge the usual Nottingham collection of rubbish, and amidst the fag packets, sweet wrappers, empty bottles, chewing gum, thrown away cans and contraceptives, the flowers that always amaze me more than any other. The determined daisies. So pretty and yet simple. The blue can, maggots coming out of it? Hehehe! What’s this, alcoholic maggots and meat flies?
I crossed over Chestnut Way, passing the bus stop that people get abandoned at, Haha!). I knocked on the Warden’s office to report the bus, but I think they were on break, so I continued through the link corridor on my way. Not a soul in sight; it was oddly eerie until a man and woman came in the opposite direction, we exchanged pleasantries between us, and I went to the swipe door at the end.
The area built for mobile and disabled scooter storage is where the power points are located.
Then, on to the lifts in Woodthorpe Court.
Still nobody about. I pressed for the 12th-floor. (Well, it seemed a good idea as I live on the 12th, Haha! I can still be quick sometimes! Not physically, mind, my days of bungee jumping are over! I can’t see (Cataracts, Glaucoma and Saccades, Haha!) myself playing snooker, squash, or even the barrel organ again? I’ve not got a lot of hope of doing the Hokey Cokey!
I got through the inner lobby doors, wiping the blood off the wall after trapping my knuckle in the door as I fought to stop the wheelie-walker from going over.
Then whilst I was struggling through the apartment door with the wheelie-guide, I knocked the waste bags off the box, and one split open! Why do I bother?
Got it cleaned up and sorted. Put the trolley in the corner, brakes on, turned to go through to the kitchen with a little bag of nosh, and knocked nearly all of the clothes hanging on the hooks off onto the floor as Dizzy Dennis paid a visit!
I got the mock ham, sandwich fillers, and soft cheese portions. Ready to make the nosh later… Oh, and the bottle of Oyster sauce. I’ve never tried that before, and Jillie warned me not to use it a lot.
Then it was concentrating on getting this blog done. I spent four hours on it, and the evening carer arrived; it was Cheeky Charley, so pleased to see her; she’s not been for a week or two now.
Did some more blogging and then on to Facebooking catch-up.
Lovely day for me; seeing Jillie was the highlight. But walking down and up the hill had done me in. I’ll get some fodder and sleep, I hope. Finish this off in the morning… again, I hope. I wash, stripped off, and down to kip! Haha!
Friday AM, 01:30hrs. I’m back. Wee-wee and on the computer.
Uploaded the nosh picture and car park ones from yesterday. The first car park one showed a lack of RVM vans on the hatched no parking area and the small red car in RVM’s spot. RVM had parked at the back in a proper car parking space. Curious! Hehe!
The sourdough sarnies, veggie sausages and meat, cheese twist, yellow tomatoes, banana and mini vegan orange flavoured cake made up the evening meal. A Taste Rating of 7/10.
😴 Ode to Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit 😴
No Mortal is at all hours wise: to those giving generously, R.A.O.B., Military, Masonry, things like them, you see? GLE, GLC, folks who generally live life benevolently, And many others working for a charity, Does this ode verse lack a certain clarity?
This Ode, maybe a smidge short on facticity, I always wanted to join brainy clericity, But I was too thick and brain dead; that was a pity, No education for me; I survived using astucity, I shouldn’t be writing about this; I lack profundity!
Did my best in school but lacked the perspicuity… Never got near to showing any sagacity… Not guilty of showing financial rapacity… For being bullied, being a coward, I’d got the capacity… I’d have had a better life if I’d shown more pugnacity,
To others, I seem to confuse with abstrusity… I’ve tried to retain unquestionable veracity, honesty, Yet always a victim of con men and predacity… I also try to avoid showing spite or mordacity, I was born with certain appendages of great paucity!
I strove to avoid doing the devil’s work, infelicity… Unfortunately, with a high level of inefficacity! Always the victim, gullible, with incredible credulity, My brain showing sporadic moments of reality… But riddled throughout with psychoactivity!
This morning, my depression turned to contemplation, First, a few moments of deep retrospection, What ifs, maybes and with some reprehension… With mixed feelings, I recalled Thatcherisation, A spirit that shocked and scared the whole nation, Can’t keep his pants on John Major, constipation! Tony Blair, liar, self-advancer and chancer… revulsion! Gordon Brown, debt maker, indeed, no statistician, Runaway Etonian, smug, arrogant but shit… Cameron,
Theresa May, Grenfell Fire, Tory Council, on the next day, Lessons from the fire would be learned, she did say… Visited the aftermath and was chased away! Kensington & Chelsea London Borough Council, well they… … are responsible, but Tories: So, no prosecutions to this day!
Guilt, self-blame, and self-recrimination led to self-expostulation, Whatever came to mind led me to self-recrimination… Black depression, I’d lost control and rationalisation… I needed a bit of luck… to regain my motivation… Eventually, I settled for acceptance of insanity and self-irrision! It seems my life will never get any moments that are ambrosian, Then again, there’s is there ever any justification…
But no! I shall fight this darkness by being conciliatory, Apart from the ailment, deafness, and cataract, I can see… Most of the other problems are down to my past stupidity! The guilt should be expected and accepted, you see… Bad choices, and decisions, are coming back to haunt me! So how do I fight them off to get my mind guilt-free? I just have to sulk and take the blame compliantly!
I found when reading this that it flows with duplexity… My rambling thoughts get entangled, incipiently… Reviewing failures is a wise thing, necessitously… I’ve so many ailments and faults characteristically, And a stomach that bulges grows, excrescently! I struggle through each day rather incompetently, Thought storms and depressions are just an inevitability! This does not stop me from wanting happiness, such a pity!
Inchcock is now out of his Dracula Depression,
The main reason was his guilt; he now shows contrition…
The reasons for this, there’s a combination…
Well, several really, starting with his visit to the fridge,
He found some mushroom pate, just a smidge…
Not a common pate; this one had caramelisation!
With chips in his freezer, this eased his deprivation!
Chips, pate, tomatoes for his palettes delectation…
He loves his comfort food, and that’s no exaggeration,
He now accepts his loneliness and being Godforsaken…
First, though, this blog to do; he also loves his scriptitations!
Due to my taking so long to do the ode, a shortened version. Sorry!
After falling asleep early last night, I sprang awake at 01:30hrs. Wee-wee, wash, wee-wee.
Sorted out a waste bag or two, passed wind, and shot to the wet room to utilise the Porcelain Throne – Trotsky Terence controlled – Messy! Decided to get the ablutions done. A lot of cleaning was already needed after the almost liquid evacuations.
Got the computer on. I loaded pictures from yesterday.
Latest local Covid figures.
I’m assuming Tuesday night, a meal from earlier, not positive as to which day it was on. But Dementia Doreen is not letting me access the old memory easily at this moment. She is a bugger!
Getting back into the room after ablutionalisationing. The legs, ankles and feet were looking a little less battered about. But Arthur Itis and Cathy’s Cartilage were giving me some sticks.
Carer Richard arrived. Looking well done in after his shift. He said he had another call to make, so he could not stop for a decent natter. But still gave me a few minutes, bless him.
Herbert kept me company over the next couple of hours as I started updating yesterday’s blog. Got it finished as Herberts stopped his banging and clanging. Which was nice not to hear.
I took a break, and hobbled around the flat, did the belated balance exercises, and did a bit of bending, but this routine was restricted by Cathy and Arthur Itis. But no Dizzy Dennis visits yet. Yehaa!
Facebooked on TFZ and Winwood Heights pages. Did some WordPress Reading, then Comments reading and answered. Computing again, I Finished and posted the blog.
Made a start on the ode for this blog. The ideas were coming so fast I could hardly type them fast enough… thus it took me hours and hours to get it finished, and a multitude of errors had to be corrected.
Herbert gave me good hours of bangs, scraping noises, tap-tapping, and finishing his concert with a proper crunch-thud. Silence after that? I hope the haughty, snobby, pompous gentleman has not injured himself and is not lying up there, bleeding in agony.
I put the computer in sleep mode, rose from the swivel chair, and went into the balcony to have a moment’s peace. Took the Canon camera with me and shot the end car park
RVM, the Red-Van-Man van, had parked even further into the yellow chevron No Parking Zone. Still, it is not too important an issue with all the murders, prison escapes, stabbings, and children being mauled and killed by dogs.
I pressed on with the blog, but tiredness overcame me. It does that occasionally, I’ve noticed!
I called my Precious Jillie (Ex Carer) to see if she’ll be in tomorrow, and I can drop off the flowers for her. (Assuming that J Sainsbury’s delivers them and not a block of lard as one of their famous substitutes!) Luckily she agreed. So on the way down to get some cash from the hole in the wall.
I can pop them into Jill’s home, go to the bank, and then Ozan, the Continental Shop, for their delicious vegetarian beef, sausages and sourdough bread (Not on order from JS). No doubt some other bits that will catch my eye.
I turned off the computer, planning to get my meal, head down, and wake alter to complete the blog-finishing mission.
I got the nosh prepped and served up. Potato fries, finely crushed tomatoes, veggie bacon, and a pot of the delicious instant mash with veg sausage bits and a gravy flavour. Not a mixture one would usually have, but I was tired, confused, and a smidge fed-up at the time. But it tasted okay, and I ate most of it. Taste Rating: 7/10.
Stripped and washed, I got down in the £300 second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable, unfit-for-use, not working recliner, underneath a blanket. Determined to get to sleep…
On the verge of nodding off, I realised I was naked, and the Carer was due in about an hour… So, not wanting to make the mistake of greeting a Carer with no trousers on again, I got some jammie bottoms, and a t-shirt on, about to get back down in the chair, and needed a wee-wee rather urgently, and made my way to the bucket…
I stubbed my toe on the wheel of the recliner as I lost my balance… banged my already painful Arthur Itis and Cathy Cartilage patella on the arm of the chair, swore, nearly pee’d myself but got there in time… had a somewhat sad wee-wee, and emptied the now nearly-full NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), washed and disinfected it.
Eventually, I got resettled in the recliner. Once again, on the verge of drifting off to sleep… and ♫Oh, Susana♫ chimed from the doorbell, and Carer Valerie came in. I was not entirely with it, but she got me sorted, and unknown to me at the time, she washed meal things for me. Bless her!
Gave up, got up, and got back on the Computer. Sleep had been taken of of my agenda now. I turned the TV on to watch a Heartbeat episode, nodded, and missed the last ten minutes.
I cheered up a bit when the Card Reader started working again, and I got this photographicalisation that I took earlier of semi-puffer clouds. Tsk! I thought I saw a claw, but I can’t find it now.
It is now just gone midnight. And I’ll post this off and try again to get some sleep, Sweet Morpheus permitting, of course.
Ever since the death penalty was abolished in 1965, people in England and Wales who have committed murder have been given mandatory life sentences. However, there is usually a minimum tariff within those life sentences indicating how many years the prisoner should serve before being considered for parole. Across the country, only around 70 prisoners are serving ‘whole-life’ sentences where they will never be released.
Below is a list of some of the killers the Post has reported on who have been given life with a minimum of at least 20 years since 2007. We haven’t included anyone serving their time abroad, such as Neil Entwistle, the Worksop man doing life without parole in the US for killing his wife and daughter.
Peter Brown (below) of Main Street, Kimberley – 40 years for stabbing Darran Lancashire in Kimberley and stabbing Brian Flaherty in Lenton six days later. He was sentenced in 2010, and three years later, he confessed to a third murder of a fellow inmate at HMP Parkhurst on the Isle of Wight back in 1994.
Michael Furniss of no fixed address – 32 years and 11 months for the murder of Andrew Dosiuk in Arnold. (2014)
Damien Fogo of Hungerhill Gardens, St Ann’s – 32 years for shooting Germaine Edwards in Bilborough. (2013)
Peter Smith (left) of West Hill, Skegby, 30 years for bludgeoning neighbour Hilda Owen in Skegby after writing her will and leaving everything to him. He was sentenced in 2008, and his conviction was later overturned, but in 2012 he was found guilty of her murder for the second time, this time receiving life with a minimum of 27 years.
Robert Marcinkiewicz-Szukowski (below) of Rossington Road, Sneinton – 27 years for the murder of Bogdan Nawrocki, whose body has never been found. (2015)
Marcus Barton of Raymede Drive, Bestwood Estate -25 years for the murder of Tony Fisher in Carlton. (2017)
Paul Hutchinson (below) of Stockgill Close, Gamston – 25 years for the murder of Nott’s schoolgirl Colette Aram in 1983. He killed himself in prison nine months after being jailed for her murder. (2010)
Susan Edwards (below) of Dagenham, Essex – 25 years for the 1998 shooting of her parents, William and Patricia Wycherley in Forest Town. (2014)
Christopher Edwards (above) of Dagenham, Essex – 25 years for the 1998 shooting of his father-in-law and mother-in-law William and Patricia Wycherley in Forest Town. (2014)
Jonathan Jones of Barbury Drive, Clifton – 24 years for stabbing John Parker in St Ann’s. (2015)
Susan Bacon of Keeper’s Cottage, near Clumber Park – 24 years for the murder of her gamekeeper husband, Nigel Bacon. (2009)
James McCarthy of Collyer Road, Calverton – 21 years for killing Julie Semper in Mapperley. (2015)
Jemelle Rodney of Mitcham, Surrey – 20 years for stabbing Nathan Somers in Newark. (2013)
Of course, not all of the longest sentences have been handed out to people who have been guilty of murder. Bestwood crime lord Colin Gunn was given 35 years in 2006 for conspiracy to murder Joan and John Stirland in Lincolnshire. John Russell of Northcote Way, Bulwell, was jailed for a minimum of 30 years, and Michael McNee, of no fixed address, was jailed for at least 25 years after both were also found guilty of conspiring to murder the Stirlands. And Gary Hardy of the Copse, Mansfield, was given 20 years in 2008 for conspiracy to supply heroin and amphetamines, money laundering and possession of criminal property.
More Detail on Nottingham Prison…
16 NOTTINGHAM PRISON ESCAPEES!
ALFIE HINDS: Alfred – also known as Alfie-Hinds, was the most famous escapee. Hinds was jailed for 12 years following a £38,000 cash and jewellery robbery in London’s Tottenham Court Road in 1953. But in November 1955, he and another inmate, burglar Patrick Fleming, escaped from Nottingham Prison in Perry Road. The two men had obtained a duplicate key to the prison carpenter’s shop, and they hid there until it was time for their bid for freedom. They stacked wooden window frames and lengths of timber on top of each other, and scaled the pile to reach the top of the 20ft wall.
Once over the wall and into the prison playing field, they used the timber again to get over a lower wall on the other side of the fields. They then broke through a wire fence to escape to the nearby housing estate. The two men got clean away. For the next few months, Hinds was on the run, but he still found time to write letters to newspapers protesting his innocence of the robbery. Fleming was the first to be recaptured, but it was not until August 1956 that 38-year-old Hinds were found in Dublin – 245 days after escaping. (That, however, wasn’t the end of it.
During a High Court appearance in 1957, he escaped from the building and made it all the way to London Airport, where he was arrested on a plane about to take off for Dublin. He broke out of Chelmsford Prison and lived in Belfast for two years before being recaptured. He was released from prison in 1964 and died in 1991.)
Well, you’ve got to admire his determination?
FIVE PRISONERS (1963): Remember the film Porridge where the prisoners escaped during a football match? In August 1963, five prisoners escaped through the wire fence at Nottingham Prison – and the break-out happened during a cricket coaching session on the prison sports ground.
Three of the men escaped in an Austin Cambridge car waiting for them on the grounds of the City Hospital. Police drafted in extra men and tracker dogs to search for the five men, all serving sentences of between seven and eight years for burglary offences. Sadly, the Post archives do not readily indicate when or how they were found.
THREE PRISONERS 1963: It seems late 1963 was a prime time for escape – perhaps something to do with the Great Train Robbery capturing the imagination in August that year (incidentally, train robbers Gordon Goody, Thomas Wisbey and Roy James were held in Nottingham Prison before they were transferred to Parkhurst). In September of that year, three men escaped from Nottingham prison by scrambling over the prison wall.
Police believed that once free of the prison grounds, the men stole a Humber Super Snipe from the car park at Nottingham City Hospital. Again, police set up roadblocks around the city and tracker dogs were used in a bid to capture the trio, all in their mid-30s. They also checked pubs and cinemas around the city. But there is no news on what happened to the men, who served eight-year terms for various offences, including receiving stolen goods and breaking and entering.
20-year-old man (1965): This was an example of the classic ‘escape when they take you to hospital’ technique. On August 31, 1965, a 20-year-old man serving three years for theft and house-breaking was taken to Nottingham City Hospital for a routine X-ray examination. But at the hospital, he managed to get rid of his escort and escape through a bedroom window and onto the roof. He was recaptured and returned to Nottingham Prison after being seen on a rooftop in Old Radford. Police called out Nottingham Fire Brigade, who sent an engine with two ladders to block the escape routes on either side. Policemen shone torches on the man – who was said to be “running like a cat along the rooftops” – and he was recaptured.
Six prisoners (1982): This was such a serious breakout that questions were asked in the House of Commons about how it had been allowed to happen. It involved six men who Home Secretary Willie Whitelaw would later describe as ‘not dangerous’. However, one was serving a life sentence for murder, and the others were serving sentences of between three years and 30 months for a range of offences. However, because they were nearing release – with the convicted murderer about to be transferred to an open prison – they were accommodated in unlocked Nissen huts about 15ft from the perimeter wall.
Just before midnight on July 11, they bolted three-bed frames together to make a ladder, used sheeting to make a rope, and escaped over the wall. Three men were captured in Luton within a few hours, and two more on July 14.
But when Nottingham North MP William Whitlock raised the escape in the House of Commons on July 19, the murderer was still on the run. Mr Whitelaw told him that a report about the escape was being written but that all six men were eligible to be housed in the less-secure huts. Remarkably, the flight over the wall was actually witnessed by another prisoner in the middle of a rooftop protest and hunger strike when it happened. Martin Foran spent 47 days on the prison roof protesting that he was innocent of the charges of armed robbery he had been jailed for, having been convicted in 1978 following an investigation by the now-discredited West Midlands Serious Crime Squad. His wife, who said that he was being unfairly treated because he was Irish, reportedly scaled a nearby roof in a show of solidarity. Mr Foran said he had watched the escape of the six prisoners but had refused to join them. His conviction was quashed in 2014. Abbott later pleaded guilty to wounding concerning the bar attack and escaping custody, aggravated vehicle taking, driving while disqualified and driving without insurance. He was jailed for a total of four years and one month.
A FEW LOCAL NEWS SNIPPETS BONUS
A neighbour shot the rat after taking the photo.
I was dubious in inputting the above of poor Diana on the blog. But decided I felt so sorry for her. As if the lady had not gone through enough already, this had happened to her.
Things stirred back to reality at 05:25hrs, after 6 hours of sleep and various periods of jumping awake. Making a total time being awake of two hours. Does that make sense? Sorry if not.
According to the best I can make out from the scribbled memory notes, the next occurrence was; P.Tarone Enight? Beats me!
I rose like a tried elephant from the c1968 second-hand recliner, grabbed walking stick Metal Mickey, and went to the wet room to get the Ablutions done.
But my dithering nature interfered, and I took the waste bin out of the wet room, emptied the others and made up some waste bags. Took them to the flat door.
It was drizzling outside, and as I put the kettle on, I took a photo of the road to the left of the kitchenette window. Plenty of trees on it get fresh air.
It’s no wonder I’ve never seen a for sale sign on the beautiful looking Cavendish Vale.
The skies were, I thought, ripe for a few minutes of pareidolia. I’m keen on finding figures in the clouds. But on this occasion, I failed to find any. Humph!
Well, apophenia, finding figures in anything, creases, reflections, cracks in floor tiles, and bulging veins. I’m experienced in that one, having more bulging veins than most people.
I made the tea, went to put the milk in, but diverted back to getting the ablutioning done.
Well, once again, it was a fair session. Fair enough, a few teeny-weeny cuts shaving, but no knocks and bangs, dizzies, toe-stubbings or tumbles. I didn’t engage the Smug-Mode… it’s early yet.
I even got out through the door without any shoulder-charging of the frame… Yes, go on then;
Got the laundry bag sorted. Made another mug of tea for the one I let go cold, and Dizzy Dennis gave me a few moments of concern… only a short bout, maybe a minute at most. But it had me holding on to the stick and hastening to sit down. But Dennis disappeared, and I was fine when I stood up? There are no messages from EQ, but I think it may be another semi-harrowing day, somehow?
Sunday’s photograph of the messy mud-slide onto the end car park on Chestnut Way. It has been known for Cataract Kathleen to do this to me! I hope I’ve not put this one on before?
This is this morning’s shot of the same area. I found some more of the indecipherable scrawl on the memory pad here, not the foggiest of what it meant. Try as I did, it remains a mystery,
A sudden robust rumbling from the innards! I was all but too late, getting to the Throne in time in seconds. Trotsky Terence controlled the evacuation. Gawdawfull messy it was! Had to change the PPs (Protection Pants) I’d put on an hour ago! Ah, well, I got everything cleaned up.
Richard arrived late; he’d had a lousy shift, I think. The poor lad looked done in. He still had a look at the SD card for me. Putting it in and out to see if anything changed; and found that the card had split! He took the waste bags out with him for me, with my thanks.
I hope the new card works in the Canon and the reader accepts it. Praying here!I opened the card, full of hope and cut my finger on the plastic! Got it fitted in the camera (not the finger, the SD card), and I tried taking shots that I did yesterday to use here and test the system. Good heavens, it worked! So, I engaged in the use of the, with reservations. As you can see here, it worked.
Outside my Winwood Heights Independent Living block of flats, I hobbled out onto the balcony to look at what was. Conducted my Blood Pressure and temperature checks. SYS 154, DIA 68, Pulse 78, and the body temperature was a decent 34.1°c.
A couple of miles away, I took a zoomed-in shot of HMP, her Majesties Nottingham Prison. And thoughts and questions permeated through… “I bet they can see their prison Doctor or Dentist at any time?”, “They’ll get their cataracts done quicker than I get mine!” “They are not worried about the rent, electricity, food, transport, bus fares, etc. going up?” “Most likely, get their free computers mended for free!” They’ll not worry about forgetting to lock their doors either! Hahaha!
Gawd, he’s been at it again, almost one-stop since morning. Bang, tap-tap, scrape, thud, boing… I did not retaliate. After all, what is the point in haggling with the self-centred, impolite, insensitive, disrespectful, snobbish, haughty, pompous, pretentious, uppity, scoffing, contumelious, smart-alecky, and ineffable, cruel, unsympathetic, toffee-nosed, self-important, nyaff, noisy nasty man?
As luck has it, I like him.
Far too ridiculously late, I made a start on this blog. Of course, something had to go wrong…
Am I the luckiest person on earth, I asked myself?
Of course not!
That honour must go to Steve Fries, the bigwig of Liberty Global, Whose inability to send an uninterrupted internet signal to Nottingham earns him $23 million a year!
Jealous? Me? Yes!
Miraculously, it was only down for a minute or so this time; I felt almost happy about it! Temporarily!
I thought I’d better check to see if any messages or missed calls had been received while I was so busy being mucked about my Herbert and Fries. Still, Herbert entertained me with some clattering-about sounds.
Could I find the phone? No! There was worry but no panic initially. All I had to do, was go through all of my jackets and trousers that I’d worn since I last used the mobile phone (whenever that was). I vaguely remember putting it in a pocket and saying, “Don’t forget that it’s in that pocket!”
Within about ten minutes, I settled for Thursday, when the foot lady texted me telling me I was late for my appointment again… that was in the brain box! I engaged my Sherlock Holmesian Methodology, and first, I worked out when I last went out. Now, what was I wearing? Maroon jacket? Blur jacket? Black trousers, or green trousers? Was I wearing my trousers – nobody said anything.
After a heated discussion with myself, I narrowed it down to the green or black trousers; and the red or blue jacket, all of which were in the laundry bag. Then thought, aha! (I do that sometimes), It might be in the pyjama bottoms, two pairs of them in the laundry. I almost felt confident as I went into the back room to search for the clothing in the bag… I should have known better at my age and after many years of failed memory training!
Well, now I was getting hot under the collar! I smugly checked through every pocket and the bag… not sausage in there. (Not that I was after one, of course, a figure of speech and all that).
A lengthy search in each room and all the clothes hanging up in the front room and the hallway proved a failure, with no mobile to be seen. Of course, if I knew my mobile number, I could ring it and hope I heard it to locate it. Although if it was in a pocket, as I still believed it was, I might not hear it anyway… I rang the desktop dancer and Warden Deana to ask if she could ring the mobile for me, but to was engaged… oh, that reminds me; she is six weeks away from getting married; bless her, and a lucky fellow too… I digress again, sorry. I do tend to do that a lot.
I rummaged, rooted and ferreted about, delving into the most unlikely of places, all to no avail. Then a spark in the brain suggested that it may have fallen and gone underneath the cabinet or recliner? Worth a look, so I did…
I got the torch and was leaning on the arm of the recliner to get low enough to check the sides, with my intentions bravely being, if no success, to get on my knees to look under the chair. But as I was leaning forward and on my left leg – perfect timing from the Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, who gave me a flailing right leg out of control dance… Which naturally had me on the floor in seconds. The spectacles are now in a precariously loose state of repair. Also, I’ve got two newly bruised knees and a red cheek from hitting the arm on the way down!
As I was recovering and considering how to get back up on my feet, Deana came in at just the perfect time! She got me up, made sure things still worked with the legs, and laughed at the (at the time unknown to me) red patch on the cheek that looked like a clown’s make-up! Hahaha! Not really, but she should have.
Deana rang my mobile. I couldn’t hear it. But she found it, under the cover on the back of the computer chair… in a jacket pocket! I am totally losing it, and a twit!
Well, worra day! Again! It’s nearly 1700hrs now, so sleep looks like being late tonight. This blog is not halfway through yet! I pressed on with it like a mini but fat hero, determined to get it up to date…
♫Oh, Susana♫ rang out. I hobbled to the door (It was a pronounced hobble, the right knee was in some pain, Tsk!) and found Josie returning the jar that held the two meals for yesterday. Bless her, I could not hear what she was saying, but plashed a smile, mentioning Betty Bunter, bless her.
Arrived, soon sorted. Then, I had a go at catching up on Facebooking. Then comments on WordPress.
Got the nosh started. It is now passed 21:00hrs. It’s been another gruelling day. I caught my hand on the oven dish as I took it out of the oven. I believe I said, “Bother!”
Veggie burger, fries, tomatoes and some sugar snap crap Ecuadorian peas. I realised a small stale cake and an out-of-date, but I could not see the date, and tasting it realised it was rancid. The banana was okay, though. However, despite these minor upsets, the flavour rating given was 6.5/10.
Had a wash, and when I came out to do the pot washing, the great sky looked to me just like an oil or water painting.
I took my time taking the last photo, as it was zoomed-in and getting the Canon camera to hold steady enough for a decent shot was not easy. I probably had to take six or seven tries to get this last one, which is not very good. But retains something about it that I like.
I deleted the old snaps on the new SD card. Thinking it would be less confusing for Kathleen’s Cataracts, Doreen’s Dementia and me. But no, I only deleted two that had not been put on the computer yet! Hehe!
Getting to sleep was nigh on impossible; well, it was. The Thought Storms rampaging through the brain, self-hatred, shame, fear… I was in the right state. It’d been a messy day, but why this? I put the TV on, but that didn’t send me off. Utter worn-outedness did it in the end, around about 02:30hrs!
Still, yers don’t like to complain, does yer?
Alto-Inchies Ode on Inchcock
I’ve been a bit worried about Inchcock for many a day, His brain has been loaded with worries & clamjamfry… Doreen’s Dementia is getting more and more on display! His memory is shot to pieces, bar some bits of scintillae, He’s had two falls, one on Sunday, another on Monday, His outlook, ideas and hopes become anachronistically… If they come at all, his writing is full of godwottery!
But it wouldn’t help if he won the lottery… He’s lost interest in anything financially… His nest egg dwindling, becoming almost eleemosynary, Worried over increases, rent, care, food, even his tea! Electricity, travel, all risen in price, becoming too costly… Will he get through it? There’s no guarantee… If he tops hissen, what’ll happen to me?
Alto-Egos don’t always have it this easy, Dominating Inchcock has been easy peasy! Where will they move me? What human will I accrue? Putin? His Alto-Ego could resign, but will he do? I’d like to get at a human that’s evil, bloodthirsty! For I fear I’ll get another docile twit like Inchie.
Approached creating this ode quite guiltily… My ideas for it were whimsical, bonkers, delusionary… I pressed on all the same, but involuntarily… For Alto-Inchy was taking the piss at me, If it comes out passable, I’ll have to be lucky… So, I hope to avoid getting any vilipendency! Will it get boos? Or be received gladly? Here I go… I’ll have to wait and see…
Last night’s Porcelain Throne visit showed sanguinolency, I had to clean things quickly, with no time to dilly-dally. Cleaned, medicated the fungal lesion, piles, cuts, that’s three… Pain, medicating the lesion send me cranky, And Harold’s Haemorrhoids too, it took me a while, Good job that I’ve got many a mans-nappie!
It’s Alto Inchie writing this verse; Inchcock did insist!
But, things got nasty for Inchy, the lyricist…
Stubbed his toe and started to update his word list…
He spent many hours on it, needed a wee, but had to desist…
Went to hit the save icon, and I missed…
Lost the file, and he sank to his saddest…
He almost cried; it must have been hard to resist…
Then he sank further and got depressed!
I lost six hours trying to get back my lost writing… Couldn’t find it; I was confused, lost and dithering, My previous determination started withering… Duodenal Donald kicked off; it was appalling, The whole incident was depressing and galling! I believe that I was so low, beyond consoling… I wondered, what’s the next thing that’ll need bungling?
Alto Again: It was sad to see Inchy being nigglier,
His computer works are getting much messier…
He didn’t look well. He seemed to me pastier…
The outlook for him to finish this ode is murkier,
And even he’s not usually a shirker, but a worker…
I can see in his eyes that he’s getting lower…
No point in talking to him until he feels betterer,
Hello, his door chimes rang out, in came a Carer…
He turned sourly around to see who it was, looking peakier,
His face lit up, his smile radiated, for it was Carer Sarah!
I could tell that he’d immediately got feeling friskier!
It was Carer Sarah who came to do me today, This cheered me up, I have to say… I lost all signs of acting acidulously… Lovely gal, pretty and chatty, I began to feel once again, altruistically, I hope she comes again on Sunday!
Alto: Inchie knackered his computer and got in a shaking panic,
The idiot’s actions and bungled repairs were catastrophic,
He had trouble concentrating and was mnemic…
His moods all day were somewhat chameleonic.
Inchcock’s plans and thoughts were all semantic…
Yet he seemed to be taking it all phlegmatic…
In fact, he ended up feeling somewhat apathetic?
Then he found his legs had gone all phlebitic!
This is why some folks, quite rightly, consider him pilgarlic!.
Diary Saturday 14th May 2022
05:00hrs: I woke up with my bum half off of the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner. The right leg on the floor, the left one on the arm of the recliner? A position that I could not physically get into on my own, even if someone offered me a million pounds to do it? Painfully I got my bum back up on the cushion, then tackled the left leg retrieval task! Have you seen that programme on the telly Truck Hell, where they have to retrieve HGVs after a crash? That’s like the task I had on.
I got it freed and the foot down on terra firma. Hehehe! It took me half an hour to achieve it.
Then, I noticed the right leg only had suffered a vein explosion. The first photo is of the front of the leg. I had a good look at it. There were no pains from the veins. Then I wondered about the back of the right leg. Got the Canon camera again and took a blind picture.
Aha, more veins showing through? On a closer look at the photograph, later on, it looked to me that last time, the surgeon who did them had left his name tattooed on the leg? Hehe! I’ll put this one on more prominent than usual to see what you think. It’s on the top right of the picture. Wonder what it is?
Ah, well, better get up; the Carer may be calling soon… and…
As I stood up to catch my balance, I knocked the camera off of the ottoman. I went into the bathroom to ready things for the ablutioning later on, and took this snap of the new marks on the face, this time! Then tried to take another snapshot of the morning view, but the camera didn’t have it. Sob!
It seemed to take the photo, but nothing was getting put on the SD card to view, other than this one and the legs? Miffed off, now! Another blog without many pictures, Humph!
I made up some waste bags, mashed a brew and got on the computer. And the morning carer appeared without ringing the buzzer and made me jump. Haha! Carer Sara was a pretty young thing, and she was sociable. ♥
On with the blog. I finished the update two hours later and posted it on Facebook. Went on Facebooking. Then the WP Reader, and comment reading and replying to.
The usual for the weekend. An increase in Herbert’s noise level. On and off all day, at times, I thought he must have hurt himself with the clanging and banging. At times, I could hurt him myself!
Got on with the Ode template for Saturday’s blog. But a disaster befell me…
I used two pages of saved words on Notepad and got on with selected suitable or better options. And the Peripheral Pete’s Neurotransmitters failed, as Shuddering Shoulder Shirley kicked in simultaneously. There was controlling my movements at all.
The arm shot across the keyboard with the left clicker pressed firmly down, hitting various keys as it went to my left, knocked the SD reader flying as the connector broke off, and it was all over in seconds, but it did a lot of damage, and worst of all, I lost all my words in the two files!
I then spent the following hours of the day trying to understand what the warning messages that came up meant and trying everything within my limited knowledge to find the missing files. No such luck! Photos not going on again.
Made a large meal and ate it all. Wee-wee. Carer Valerie called. Head down, but foolishly tried to watch a Dirty Harry film on the box… I did, in a way, but in about 25 episodes, I watched one each time I woke up and nodded off again!
I reluctantly woke at 05:30hrs, and after a few minutes of determinate efforts to nod off again, the need for the Porcelain Throne arose, and I was cruelly forced to get up!
I made my way to the wet room, pleased with how I was getting about, balance-wise. But was not too keen on how the Porcelain Throne evacuation went. Trotsky Terence had a more significant say in things. Thus it was messy and a semi-splurting affair. Needing a lot of cleaning up doing after the event.
I decided to get a stand-up wash, teeth, medicationing and shave, etc. done as I was there. The shaving well, well, one… just one nick on the chin. (The teeth cleaning I forgot to do, I did it later when I remembered).
Harold’s Haemorrhoids, Arthur Itis knees, Colin Cramps’ hands and Little Inchies Fungal Lesion were all medicated. I got dressed, thinking the Carer may soon be here.
Turned on the computer…
Boy, was I pissed off? YES, I was! Grrr! The thoughts of Liberty-Gobal’s Mr Fries getting so much salary and bonuses, and he can’t get an internet signal to work in Nottingham…
I turned everything off, leaving it for ten or fifteen minutes. Unplugged the lot. Then restarted the hub and, five minutes later computer. Gave it longer to sort itself out and into the kitchenette Humph! Stubbing my toe on the way against the server trolley wheel.
This is not going to be as short a dairy as I planned. My EQ had spoken, “Be prepared for a messy day! So I did!
From the depths of despair, I rose into flabberghastedness! Not only did the internet start, but when I slipped in the SD card – it worked the first time!!! So I got these photos from yesterday loaded to put on here. I didn’t get too excited, though, after I found that some were refused as ‘wrong format’, which they are not; I levelled off my mental state down to ‘Ah, well, I knew summat else would knacker things up!’ mode.
The first two are from the Health Checks, and the results were not too bad either. I’ve had much worse this week.
Oh, dear, now I’ve had to stop. Frustration, self-derogatory tongue lashings and self-hating had to have a few minutes with me! I realised I’d already put these on yesterday’s blog. Of course, I should have been blaming Dementia Doreen! But having to live with her, I didn’t want to make her angry with me! Hehehe! Good job that I didn’t lose more time and recognised that I’d posted them. But definitely, positively, no Smug-Mode was deserved!
When I made a brew and took this photo while doing so. The morning weather was how I felt, a smidge down, dank and not too hopeful. Hey-Ho! Hello, another trip to the Porcelain Throne was indicated…
2 So, off for the second visit of the day. Trotsky Terence was in even more control this time. The liquidifation of things was more advanced, which meant less need and time for cleaning up my delicate areas on the plus side! I used the minus side, which saved time cleaning up the splashed and liquid ricochets.
I took a photograph of the Winwood Heights, Chestnut Way, end car park. I was most concerned not to see RVM (Red-Van-Mans’) van parked on the yellow chevrons. In fact, I could not see it anywhere. He’ll be out at an AA meeting, his probation officer or visiting his mates in prison, mayhaps? Hehehe! Only joking! He’ll be working somewhere.
I pressed on with updating yesterday’s blog. Eventually, getting it done and posted. When I went to get a drink of spring water, I realised that it was beyond 09:00hrs. And no Carer had called yet. I’ll give them a little longer; usually, someone rings if they will be late?
I’m getting fed up with this – Haha! 3: I moved on to Facebooking the blog, went on the TFZer and Winwood Heights pages, read, and replied to some comments. After about an hour… back to the throne. The evacuated product was of a similar nature to the last visit. The jets of liquid were far more powerful… thus messy and needed cleaning again.
I got the bags into the kitchenette, ready to sort them out. I made a start on this blog, it was slow going, Doreen, and the brain’s concentration made things difficult for me. Then, the intercom rang forth and flashed. It was the Amazon shopper delivering my order. He even brought up the flowers first so that the bunches didn’t get crushed. Then he brought the rest up. Bless him.
I go the flower treats put safely stored from crushing, firstly. Today, the treats are for Deana, Julie and Jenny. I rang Jenny to see which one she fancied. Jenny opted for the centre bouquet.
The pink one. At least, I think the first two are pink. They’ve gone now, and I can’t remember the names, Tsk! Oh, yes, I can, one of them, the left one, Chrysanthemums! Sad, innit? My being colour blind and not a new thing that isn’t.
Around 1963 I failed a medical for a job on British Rail as a goods train guard. I found out that I suffered from protanopia – basically, I cannot identify reds from other close colours, orange, maroon etc. Then a couple of years ago, they told me I now (then) had dichromatism, having trouble identifying primary reds, greens and blues. Now I’d acquired Saccades in the right eye and glaucoma and cataracts. See what I mean? Hahaha!
Oh, heckythump, was I waffling on there! Sorry. Back to the diary…
I got the frozen things away. Vegetable burgers, iced orange lollies, potato bakes, potato bites and potato croquettes. I was pretty pleased with how I conjured around the stuff in the freezer to make room for the new stuff.
Then the fridge products, not many today, I intend to use up some of the canned foods. (We’ll see?). Tomatoes, sugar snap peas, mushroom pates, veg sausages, strawberry & grape pots to treats, that’s about it. Ah, no, well, yer see… I suppose you do… Those fresh cream French Horns? I blame one of my sweethearts on the TFZer Facebook page; I have a few. She just loves fresh cream French Horns, and when I eat one, it reminds me of Janet.
Janet and me in the photo here… in a dream I had! ♥ I’m off waffling again!
Cans of Chilli-Con-Carne, pots of jelly & custard, potatoes, fries, vegetable stock, tomato puree with herbs, a lemon, five bananas, a bottle of orange cordial, and a can of chilli soup make up the rest of the the the items purchased.
I got the fodder all stored away (The cupboards and freezer are close to cram-packed now). Then back on the blogging for an hour or two. Suddenly it dawned on me… nearly midday, and no Carer had arrived? I called Warden and Ballerina Julie and or Warden and Desktop dancer Deana to tell them the flowers are ready for collecting; if they can manage it. Julie answered and said she would come up to see me. I can mention the Carer missing again when she comes.
After making the call, I began to fear that I may have made an error. I was confused, and Dementia Doreen was making me fret; someone had called? I checked on the Meridian call register but could not read it with my eyes… I feared that if I say owt, and it turns out they have already been… I’m going to be regarded as a plonker of the first order? I took some faith that I was shaking a lot more than usual. The last time they failed to show, I’d gone so long without the medications; I got the shakes when they arrived. And boy, was I beginning to shake now! Yes, I was!
Back to my blogging, this is taking far too long. Interruptions of various sorts, and now Herbert had kicked off with his tap-tapping. He didn’t go on for too long. Oh, I think he just dropped something metallic, then!
Warden & ballerina Julie came in. I asked her if she would please take the flowers for Jenny, as I was expecting a delivery and call from the hospital, and she kindly agreed. I mentioned that I don’t think a Carer has been, and she said I was shaking and shuddering. Julie checked the Meridian log and said no one had been. She would mention it to them when she got back to the office. I thanked her, and off she trotted.
It then dawned on me why I’d ordered so much stuff for the freezer. Last week Richard said he would sort the dates of everything in the fridge and freezer for me. I knew I had some meat products I did not want and hoped that Richard would take them off my hands. So there will be plenty of room to get today’s stuff in it. But Richard had another call, and the lad was knackered from his shift yesterday and could sort the freezer for me. Hope he feels better and gets a good break. I’ll miss the lad, but glad he’s got a holiday to recover from his exhaustion.
I started blogging again, and someone from Meridian called me on the landline. She said they were very sorry about this morning, and a Carer is on their way to me now. I said thank you. Shame it had to happen for the seventh time since I’ve been paying them to come. Obviously, Julie had told them for me. Hey-ho, and pickle my walnuts!
Carer Valerie came into the flat, and she got my medications given. She asked me what happened with the morning’s Carer. I said I’ve no idea. Valerie said about me shaking a bit. I thought it had stopped, but apparently not. There is constantly shaking of some sort with Peripheral Neuropathy, but it was more violent this time and uncontrollable now. Thanked Val, and off she trotted. Within half an hour of taking the medicines, I think the shaking was back to normal.
I’m struggling to get the blog updated now. The concentration has been destroyed by all the complications of the day. I took the comfort of some sort in knowing things should calm down now… Did I say that?…
I got a text message, “Feet today!” reminder came in: The foot lady at the hairdressing salon told me it’s my day to have the feet done! Argh! No time to get nowt done!
4 Then it really irritated me that I needed Porcelain Throne visit number four! Just when I didn’t need it, I’m not going to be popular for keeping them waiting when I get down to the salon… mind you, I don’t expect I was before. Hehe! The evacuation was more liquified this time, but it was over quickly.
So, I fumbled and bumbled about again, and I got myself down to the ground floor salon. The looks I was greeted with said, “Oh, here it is, about time too!” They got the feet tended to, not without the odd ‘Argh’ emitting from my lips. I paid the £25, not cheap for getting one’s toenails done, but some other options are dearer. It’s terrible enough forgetting things, but then I gave my toe a stubbing against the airer as I went to get a quick wash. She gave me an appointment card, and I gave out some cans of treats. Then hastened ASAP back to the flat, fearing I may have missed the hospital’s call… Ain’t life a git some days? Well, most in my case!
Tried to get the blogging update advanced, and Valerie (the whisperer) came in the room, apparently talking to me as I typed away on the blog. Of course, I couldn’t hear her. She was returning the laundry. Treated to a little pack of grapes and strawberries. Bless her.
I put the oven on and, got some chilli on the pan, added some spirit vinegar to it and some peas. I’ve been assured that the spirit vinegar will lessen the sharpness of the chilli. After adding the peas and getting the hob going, I took a nibble. And it works! Yee-Haa!
17:15hrs The Evening Carer arrived. The morning caller was 7 hours late, and the evening one was an hour early. They must be having problems. However, the evening medications are mostly Warfarin blood thinners, Lansoprozole for Duodenal Donald, Codeine & Paracetamol pain killer, Ramipril, Peptic Antacid, and Atorvastatin Cholesterol inhibitor. The Folfiri has been stopped for six months to assess. A shame that I missed having the nurse call every day. Hahaha!
Turned everything off and got the nosh sorted out. Vegetable chilli con carnie, with cubes of potatoes done in the oven. Nice and crispy! I soaked it up with two of the wholemeal bread rolls.
Janet and my favourite fresh cream French horns were gobbled up after the meal. There was a smidgeon of guilt lingering though afterwards. Hehehe! A Taste and Flavour Rating of 9.3/10.
Washed the pots up and spotted the sun on its way down. Despite having a shaking bout at the time (again!), I managed to get two decent, just usable pictures of it.
I took three or four, but the others didn’t come out well. Although not as vivid as some, I thought these two represented a sort of sadness. Then again, nowadays, me not being convinced, confident, in or of something, is usual, the norm! I’m not sure why.
Got a wash, and I stripped off and got down into the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly-sickeningly beige coloured, musty, tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly-recliner.
Then the Thought Storms launched into activity. Starting off with just how good my EQ was this morning with his forecast for the day!
This day’s events have made me even more confident in the validity of my EQ assessments and warnings. For once, I have indubitableness! I must, and will, never doubt EQ’s veridicality again.
But the self-despising, guilt, shame, failure, and bad judgments flowed through the Thought-Storms. It took ages for them to slow down enough to let me get off to sleep. Humph!
ODE TO THE DAY
My EQ warned me as soon as I woke up this Friday…
That day was going to be frustratingly messy!
There was undoubtedly no festivity but a lot of fetidity,
Leaving me with panicky mental fatiguability,
The unexpected, or forgot about, and incongruity,
Doreen Dementia, making things go recalcitrantly,
At times, I just accepted my increasing insanity…
And after so many mishaps, by own banality!
I lost hours getting the Liberty-Global net back on,
I hate things technical, electric, mobiles and silicon…
Turned all off and then back on…
Somehow got it going again, thereon…
Which cheered me up, but just a fraction,
For EQ’s warning, it was like a klaxon!
The carer was late; they’d forgotten about me,
Delayed medications (6-hours), causing psychoactivity,
And I got the shakes, and sweats, all involuntarily,
Took the belated tablets, and soon less shaky…happily!
Harold’s Haemorrhoids, Little Inchies lesion, bloodily…
Arthur Itis, Colin Cramps, and Peripheral Neuropathy…
Toe stubbing, painful Porcelain Throne evacuating…
Hopes for an improvement turned out to be delusorily!
Every happening seems to be unfair, conspiratorily…
With the pressure of not knowing, I shook more giddily,
I got more and more uptight, responding haughtily,
I was not coping with things, well I was… but badly,
Self-pity raised its head often, and depression, sadly
Five visits to the Throne, and, Oh, many a wee-wee!
I was faffling around, like Old Mother Riley,
Ways out and solutions were well beyond me…
I knew I was in for a long day… fiddle-dee-dee!
My thoughts and concentration, or lack of I say…
Were thataway, thereaway, thisaway, anyway…
Will this stampede of failure and confusion ever fade away?
I started to fret and worry over silly things, minutiae!
Unimportant, useless, unwanted confusing clamjamfry…
Will I ever recover common sense, memory or logicality?
Then a text message reminder was sent to me…
‘Feet Today’, Toe cutting, £25 more to throw away!
I’d forgotten about the feet, got down to the salon alreet,
Being late arriving, her greeting look was like a bleat…
Painfully had my toenails cut and oiled on both feet,
Gave them each can of plonk as a peacemaking treat
And back to the flat in a hasty retreat…
Where I made chilli, that was a pleasure to eat…
But sleep was resistant; that wasn’t so sweet!
Odes Scribed To Cause A Smile and-or Laugh – I fank you!
‘Tis not just the ending of civility and decency… Nor the gallantry, gentleness and long gone chivalry, That annoys and really seems to get to me, Why bother, you said; you’ll soon be just history…
Good question! My reading of mankind’s history… To me, human actions past and now… are a mystery! Not that I believe all I read, certainly! Nothing in the annuls is a certainty!
Human tellurians all lie and cheat to gain a better destiny… Mostly to gain power, be the top dog, with greed for money, Wanting to put nowt into the pie…but enjoying the honey, Smiling at the opportunity for profit via anything phoney!
They’ll pretend to be doing their helpful duty, But we know that it’s all on the QT… But knowing we also fail in our duty… Some even think that life is game and cutsie!
No rent to pay, they steal from their old Auntie, The wine and dine while she has chip buttie… The gals go the lads and the lads for tottie… I think I’m losing the point of this dittie?
You do that when you’ve got Doreen Dementia, a pity… Yet still, I try to create summat funny and witty… Well, not often, but I still have the edacity… If even a swell, the blooming audacity!
Recalling what I going to write is beyond doability! My memory pad notes show indecipherability… My nerve ends sends the brain messages… insufficiently, They get orders back and jerk, jump obediently…
The right leg and arm flail, I may fall, it’s all a farcicality, Gone on for ages now, so I have a familiarity… It all affects my confidence and fatiguability… The Doctors say any treatment is beyond feasibility!
Then there are other ailments, mental and rheumaticky, They can be as risky, painful and tricky… Like the fungal lesion bleeding on my dickie! But, I must not moan and be nitpicky… I just hope you find this ode a little bit witty!
Thursday 12th May 2022
Nocturnally, I shared the night with Colin Cramps again. His favourite targets were the right leg, left hand, right shoulder and side of the neck.
I lay a while, wondering if I could get back to sleep… but the need for a wee-wee arose, and I disentangled by my mastodonic-sized, wobbly epigastrium and torso’d body from the recliner.
As I was doing the balance exercises, I plopped backwards and ended up in the recliner again. I instantly felt the warm wet sensation from Little Inchies Fungal Lesions! Oh, Clump!
Grabbed metal Mickey and off to the wet room. Bit of a mess made of things, and the pain was pretty bad; cleaning things up and medicating them. On the bright side, (there always is one, you just have to find it, Hehe!). However, Harold’s Haemorrhoids were not bleeding from the fall. Had a wee-wee.
I washed and went to the kitchenette to make a tea brew but forgot to take it with me to the computer, which I found later. Tsk!
I booted the machine up and thought I’d try to get the photos on from yesterday. And after setting up today’s template, I tried my luck. At first, there was no usual response from the SD reader or computer. I spent a while swapping and moving the card in hope… then remembered the mug of Glengettie I’d left in the kitchen. Made another mugful.
Back to the computer, but the tea still did not get drunk. To my surprise, the card was recognised. So I got them in ASAP before the computer changed its mind.
I was nervously on tenterhooks all the time, trying to rush but not dislodge the card and get each photo onto CorelDraw to touch up. (I don’t so much of that nowadays, you know, touching up. Hehehe! This on the right is a photo of the Spirit vinegar delivered yesterday.
Sphygmomanometerisationing results in Blood Pressure. SYS 149. DIA 72, and the pulse was at 79bpm. Which looked fair enough to me.
The Chinese (Hong Kong) is made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, gave as good a reading as ever, at 34.8°c, another bit of good fortune there!
Later on last night, I had to get up from the recliner, rather grumpily (Yes, me grumpy, hard to believe, I know!) to get some more Phorpain gel to rub in the cramp ridden hands and legs.
I was glad that I did now. The ever later sunset was bootiful! What a hue!
Young Richard, the carer, arrived. He didn’t look too good. So I plied him with some of his favourite goodies. In a rush to get home, and I can’t blame him. Not sure if he’s due tomorrow or not. I think so.
A picture here from yesterday; I think so, anyway.
My favourite puffer clouds were out on display. I couldn’t see any figures or faces in them like we did yesterday, mind you.
An hour or two of doing the Ode for yesterday’s blog, the gurgling from within advised me to make my way to the Porcelain Throne. Which I did! I reckon the Trotsky Terence is about to take control in the rear-end evacuation department.
Pressed on with the blogging again, it’s taking all my time, but I like it! As Dick Emery used to say.
After the rain stopped, I nipped out on the balcony to take a photo of the end of the Chestnut Way car parking antics. The roadway on the corner at the end of the tower block was in a state! Mud had torrented down from Woodthorpe Grange Park and made a right mess for the poor old drivers to get through to get to their cars. Although the Red-Van-Man was okay, being parked on the yellow no parking chevrons, as usual.
.The right hand did a little finger manipulating on its own accord again this morning.
I go so far with the blog and am in a quandary about getting the ablutions done. I’ll explain; I think the Wilko order is due today. Deana might come with a Council lady with the spare key. So, if I go into the wet room, I’ll not hear the door chime. Even if I did, would I get to the door in time? I suppose this means I’ll have to stay dirty? Then be forced to stay up late to get the job done, then?
Still, he can’t get a signal to Nottingham to work!
Came good and early. Soon got me sorted. I did drop a beta-blocker… no, a Codeine when taking the medications, but I was lucky enough to spot it on the carpet. She took the waste bag with her on departing. I fang you!
Resigned to no internet availability from Fries again.
Got a nosh sorted out. Fishcakes with peas in them, potato lumps. Two mini cakes and a horrible lemon cheesecake. Taste: 6.5/10.
Went to do the washing up and tool this snap from the kitchen window. It looks like a microscope view of some bacteria. Hehe! Not one of my better efforts.
I phoned Jenny and Jillie for a natter about nothing. For once, Sweet Morpheus let me join him in slumber a little sooner than usual tonight. And only a few waking ups!
It’s going to be a messy day, says my EQ… Most of the time, what says comes true, Ignore him, and Accifauxpas will be due, Whoopsiedangleplops, & tumbles, too… Not to mention frustration coming to you!
Below are the details of the day that did accrue… Although it is only a short, confusing review, Peripheral Neuropathy troubles, what can I do? A Facebook message from Timbuktu… Virgin Internet down again – Boo-boo!
My anger at the above, I must subdue… It got me in a pickle and nervous stew! My concentration flailed, then flew… I suppose, at least in the long view… Another cock-up, Accifauxpas, is due?
Diary Of Woe
I recovered consciousness at 06:00hrs. No messing about, I rose and caught my balance. I went to get the kettle on, sorted the waste bags, had a wee-wee, then a wash, dressed and made a brew of Glengettie.
So much I had planned to do as well. Bitterly disappointed! I sent painful death wishes through the ether for Herr Fries… well, I can hope! Why? Jealousy and not believing the scumball who cannot a Virgin Media internet signal to Nottingham. Thus, making my life so difficult. Here is what my research found out are the other reason I hate the git to bits: Michael Fries: The estimated Net Worth of Michael T Fries is at least 184 Million dollars as of 1 May 2022. Mr Fries owns over 215,799 units of Liberty Global plc stock worth over $38,181,312, and over the last 9 years, he sold LBTYK stock worth over $22,634,655. In addition, he makes $123,254,000 as Vice Chairman of the Board, President, and Chief Executive Officer at Liberty Global plc. So, you can see why I’m pissed off and jealous?
I pondered on Fries’ nature and outlook. His traits came to mind; Lucre, payoffs, smoke & mirrors, profit, gelt, money, and incapabilities to run Virgin Media with any reliability. A few others came to me… deception, flimflam, hocus-pocus. Illusion, legerdemain, and under-handed professional prestidigitation? I think I’m close.