Inchies Morning Thoughts

Inchy: Tuesday 22nd August 2023

/ Inchie / 2 Comments

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What a Start This Morning!
The Go-Wrongables went wrong again!

It all started the moment I woke up, with agony from the gonads area. Due to the movement of the long night pouch tube that was attached to much unwanted, I must have chaffed away at the gonads as ‘things’ moved for the first time in months! I’ll not go into too much detail, but the dreaming involved things of an amorous nature, with a bit of physical passion thrown in! As I began to launch myself from the depths of the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner, I believed a glance at the wall clock, that fell off of the wall and now resides next to the squeaky Margaret Thatcher toy, on top of the electric fire, that I can’t afford to use with the cost of electricity; and panicked a little when I saw (Wrongly as it happens) that the clock showed it to be about ten past seven. And the food delivery is coming twixt 07:00 > and 08:00! In my haste to get up, the tube caught on the new air cushion that was delivered for me yesterday. No messing about with jokes at this stage… It was horrendously painful, and I felt sure the blood flowed much more than usual this morning!
I fumblingly got the night pouch off ASAP and grabbed for my , and off to the wet room to check on the state of my inguen department in the lower regions. – en route against the door frame. But did not stop, went in and peeled off the bloodied protection pants, and went into an investigative mode to assess the damage. Not much Germolene left; I used most of it on Little Inchies. Then realised I had even less left of the Germoloid ointment! But remembered my taking brave choice, to order a tube of each on today’s Morrison order, and dang, the cost! Taking the wristwatch off, I spotted the real-time! 03:30hrs. All that rushing and pain for nothing.
Tea GlengettieGot the computer on to update yesterday’s blog. The time flew, but I took a break for a brew of Glengettie and the two last biscuits from the jar. No, I didn’t cry! But it was a close call. Hehe! I’d ordered some on the Morrison order, which cheered me up.
Little did I know what wasn’t being delivered and substituted, or I may have cried then!
MORRISON MUCK-UP!
The driver was kind enough to put the products into carriers I had saved and took them into the hallway for me. Kind of him; many tip the food out of their trays onto the kitchen floor or in the doorway. Thanks, mate, I appreciated that. I set about emptying the carriers and photographing the various foods, thinking of little witty things to say on the blog. I must have taken about eight decent photographs, starting with the line of carriers in the hallway. Freezer, fridge, and cupboard goods.
Then, as I was putting the things away… I realised how many had been substituted or were not available. Tsk!
No Germolene or Germoloid! ‘Sudcrem’ had been substituted. The two vegetable risotto meals had been swapped for, of all things, Vegetable Lasagne, Horrible stuff! But I didn’t notice it soon enough to send it back. Or I would have. Urrgh! Kara is a vegan; I’ll see if she will have them on her next call. The two Morrisons Acute Diarrhoea Relief Caps (Cost £1.20 each) were substituted with one Morrisons Diarrhoea Relief Instant Tablets. £6! Then, Pukka Cheese Leek & Potato Slices, £1.20, were replaced with Ginsters Cheddar & Onion Slices @ £1.48! Suddenly I remembered why I’d stopped using Morrisons delivery service – too late now. Gits! Can all these things keep happening to me every day? Well, yes!

When Carer Kara arrived, the bleeding from the private quarters had stopped, but not the pains. Tsk! Still no Ramipril Tablets, hence the high Blood Pressure readings for today. Kara checked the day pouch, due to be replaced on Wednesday. She kindly said she’d ring the Doctors or chemist about the tablet situation for me. Fingers crossed! It seems that all medications are in short supply at the moment.

I got around to putting the pictures taken onto the computer, my lovingly, carefully, time-consumingly taken shots throughout the late morning. But not one was on the SD card!
The SD card I’d left in the computer reader slot – AGAIN!
, I swore, cursed and lambasted myself as I ground my teeth and wanted to hit myself in the face! What else is going to go wrong? Don’t answer that, please!

Carer Kara arrived. I forced her to take the unwanted Vegetable Lasagne ready meals. It’s that white sauce on the that I don’t like. And I adore the Vegetable Risotto, but the last two times, they have substituted lasagne. Grrr!

Well, there’s no time to make a meal now. I’ve got to get the ablutions tended to… I’ve not started the photos yet; I better get them done first. Then, as instructed, I had to use the chair in the shower, fair enough.

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Please let my luck get betterer?
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The night bag colour is looking good.
Plenty of it for once, 500 ml!

A rainy morning close to the glass shot.
A wider view…
But neither was very good. Tsk!

Rubbish bags sorted out.

Popped into the spare room; I did a bit of sorting, but not much.
More waste bags to go.

Titivated the nurses, carers, and helpers nibbles.

.

Computer issues bamboozled me.

Water Chestnuts Pickled!
After getting them into the jar, Kara told me they needed 4 days in the fridge. As instructed, I shook the seasoning in the tub.
Sorry, I did now. The lid wasn’t waterproof; vinegar went all over me and the floor to clean up. Fancy that!

The Morrison Farce Arrived.
All those lost photos, I took a few more, too late, of course.
Fridge close up. Leicester cheese to go in the potatoes later… well, that’s the plan, anyway.
Fridge full view.
Terribly bad freezer shot…
But the bananas came out alright.
I’ve eaten two during the day.

Balcony photo of the end car park.

Low puffer clouds, Bootiful!.
A Higher in the Sky view.

What were these two supposed to beat me?
Although this one could be my finger?
Better get on with the ablutions… Oh no…
It’s too late… no, I’ll get them done.
Back later.
He says, full of hope!

I’m back, but much later than planned. Tuesday morning.
I’d . Woke and went to check on the cooking and spotted the part moon high in the sky. I took these poor efforts for  photographicalisations
Got the wobbles, methinks?

Turned on the TV & .
The clouds had taken over the view.

I took these from the kitchenette window.
I forgot to check on the cooking. Tsk!

Gorgeous!
What a remarkable change to the scene!
Bootiful!

Got the meal served up. Instant mash with Leicester cheese and sea salt added! Vegan sausages, chestnuts, red & yellow tomatoes, salted, and mushrooms were over-seasoned and overcooked! And a banana. Shame! Carer Benjamin arrived as I was serving up the meal. He kindly put it into the microwave to keep it warm for me.
But I ate most of it; I just had to leave some of the mushrooms.
Flavour-Rating: 8.1/10! Got the pots washed and…

Slept for a couple of hours before the usual jumping awake with a jolt. Which, unfortunately, tugged at the tube from deep within Little Inchie, causing to bleed a bit. (It also made me wince and curse a little, but no matter.) Off to the wet room, carrying & the , to clean and medicate things in the lower regions. Washed and got new PPs on. I forgot about the instructions to sit down to get dressed. I used Protection Pants for the first time to see how with them. They are much thinner than the others, and the actual pads seem smaller in ratio. But we were comfortable enough after the gruelling battle to get them on! Hehehe!

All medicated and cleaned up, I hobbled into the kitchenette to ensure no taps (faucets) or stove had been left on, and the fridge & freezer doors were shut!
Which was when I spotted the orange moon high in the dark sky. I decided to take a photograph of it… But it came out like this below… Artistic, methinks, even if it was not planned.
How the heck I managed to get three copies of The Moon in there is beyond me. I bet WordPress photographer, singer, songwriter, animal lover, novelist and jolly-good-fellow Tim Price in New Mexico would know!

TTFN, Each!

Inchcock Today: Friday 25th November 2022

/ Inchie / 5 Comments

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Best as I could recall, it would have been about five o’clock when I went to put the kettle on to make a Welsh brew of Glenghetti tea.

This Ode writ to show yer the wee-wee rate today!

While doing the brewing,
A mug of tea ensuing,
The bladder continued bubbling…
Took one photo. and off for a peeing,
Washed, back to photographing,
Tea had done brewing…
Got out the milk & off for a wee-weeing!
Out of the wet room singing…
Forgot the tea, did the binning,.
Ah, the tea, which was now freezing,
Still, it didn’t matter to me.
Weeing, It was not free-flowing…

I could be in the shit; you see! Hehe


Ouzzat! Back-Down to High-Normal!

And, I not long since when taking the shower shaving routine, that my right hanging-sack is swollen and so tender. Humph!
I presume from the effects of the urine infection or whatever it is. As the wee-wee rate was dropping. The swelling and pain started coming and still getting worse. Typical, I get an appointment, then find that I can’t get an Easy-Link bus; the poor devils are out of volunteers.
 It’ll be dodgy on the buses, but I’ve no choice. Finding it a lot harder to see things now, like traffic, walls, kerb, and bus stops, and have to manoeuvre around the 3-wheeler walker trolley. Do you know, I’m genuinely nervous about going out, not being able to see or hear.

About 45 wee-wees later, I’d stopped drinking before going to the doctor and got things ready to go. But if the Carer is any later I may miss the bus… “I may miss the bus!”! You may not believe the farce that took place… However, by way of a cheer, the had developed what a work of an art form is. I felt like it must be a label or something that could be pulled off? Off course, in my condition, there was no way I could reach it anyway – and should I have tried, my right onion bag would have likely burst as I swashed it, getting down to it. Not to mention the agony it would have given me. Hehehe! Believe me, it gave me plenty of chance for the odd Argh! Winching & cursing throughout the day and night!
Arrived, and I asked him if he could help me with getting the does on, Or to be more precise, fasten the velcro on them. TY was happy enough to do that for me. I waffled too much, and the lad forgot to give me the second Omeprazole table, my fault. Treats selected in, on my insistence, thanks. Took the waste bag with him as he left. I wandered of again there, sorry.
Now, it was now up to me to get to the bus on time. And I did too! My left side lips gave a slight curl upwards. Initially, I did, but the Swaggering blossomed.

I caught the 40 bus to go down Winchester Street, get off on Mansfield Road, and catch another bus into Carrington, where the Sherrington Park Medical thingamabob is.
acci-whoop When a lady got on who I’d not seen for ages, I started a chinwag with her. As she got to get off, I realised that we were on top of Mapperley Plains
 Activated, and I got off with her but could not catch her up. I was in a mental flap of sorts, concerned about being late for the appointment.
This kindest lady came to me and asked me if I was alright. I explained my big , and she asked if she could call a taxi for me. Bless Her!
And she did. A taxi arrived in about three minutes and put the trolley walker in the boot and me in the back, and we were soon arriving at the surgery. Phew! There was a decent wait to be seen. Which told me I’d got the timing wrong again. I was proven right later on when the Doctor mentioned how early I had arrived. Tsk!

I told doctor Vindla of wee-wees, how painful they were and only the off sprinkle coming out. Off t the treatment room And she had a look ot the bladder and Shot up the backside to have a feel around. I felt that one! Then something long and cold. I didn’t ask.

Two Meridian gals… I think Tina and Jodie came in as I was sat sitting at the computer, trying to resettle the giant-sacked ball whatsit between my legs. The legs also grew greatly today?
I fear that the photographs I took while out, fifteen of them, many never made it to the SD Card. A message something like ‘This photo cannot be viewed’ showed on the Lumix screen. Huh!

The FARCICALISATIONAL began.
I got wrapped up well, remembered the Sample tube thingy, filled, of course. Hehe!     
I got to the public bus stop, and other tenants joined us there. And a bus arrived within minutes.
I got into the vehicle with no injuries, got sat down and off we went.
My mind was concerned at that time about what and how I was going to explain my symptoms to the Doctor. (I would have checked my notes written earlier… but they were in the living room back at the flat.
We arrived at the next stop, and a lady and gent got on. It’s been so long since I saw them since I don’t get out much, and I greeted them like family and launched into questioning them about how they were getting on. The lady said she was sorry, but they were getting off at the next bus stop. Then a sickening feeling filled my stomach, with a self-hating mode coming on when I realised where we were, going in the opposite direction. I’d got on the wrong bus!
I alighted with the pair, and not a full mode, but it soon became one when I realised the problem I was going to have to get to the surgery on time now.

I crossed the pelican lights to the other side, but none of the buses went to Carrington from there. (I wondered at that moment if this was a suitable name for EasyLink to use) But did not blame them; I more cursed my own luck and Dementia Doreen!
This very kind lady came to me (I supposed I must have looked worried?) and asked if I was alright. I briefly explained my cock-up, and asked if there was a taxi place nearby. Bless her. She got on her mobile and ordered a car from DG for me.
SherringtonThis arrived within three minutes and five more, and we were pulling up at the Sherrington Park Surgery. The sun came out as I paid my dues.

Whoever the lady was To whoever the lady was who helped dave the appointment for me. ♥
I got inside, and when I logged in, the lady in reception pointed to the chairs. (Doctoresse at this surgery for Please take a seat) Which in many ways was such a comfort; because it meant I was not late.
With how the eyes were, there was no point in taking the crossword book (although I meant to, I just forgot to, Ahem!)
I looked through every leaflet on the walls, and there was no shortage, but there were only about four with print big enough to read.
I sat for about twenty minutes: Not easy sitting, you know! When one of your man bits is three times the size of the other one, without trapping or sitting on it. Well, impossible, actually!

Dr Vindla came to me, smiling… that always scares me for some reason nowadays Hehe! The first thing she sails was, “You’re good and early today, Gerry. Let’s have you in…”

I’d got the appointment timing all mixed up again! Shouldn’t really be such a shock with my record, but so many in such a short space of time were worrying me a smidgeon.

I don’t suppose for one second that they bother my uninvited interloping brain resident, Dementia Doreen, do you think?
I’m surprised I don’t have a headache; I bet she’s in there amongst the confused brain cells, throwing a party. or maybe having a revelrous-celebratory knees-up with Alto-Ego?
I wonder how long it will be until my grip weakens so much that I will not care anymore? Just a thought. Well, at the moment, anyhow. Back to the surgery… I strayed well off-topic again there; sorry.
I told the Doc all about my four sleepless nights and the mushrooming, three-time it’s usual size tender right bit in my men’s department. I can’t be certain, but I thought I detected a little wry-smile creep into her expression.
It was off into the examination room for me with her. She got me positioned and ready for her to delve into certain orifices. She said; I’m going to have a feel… (By gum, that took me back in time, Hahaha!) a feel of your Prostrate, which she did. I just lay there in bliss for a minute. Then, another delve into the rear quarters, I sensed a bit of squelching, and then Dr Lona said something, but I didn’t hear what she said clearly.

Back in her room, then spoke again. She has sent an email to the chemist, which I can fetch now, for some MacroBid antibiotics. Do I did. But not until Dr Vindla gave me an appointment with the Nurse – I nearly got excited then. Haha! It’s with Nurse Lisa. For 30th December at 10:30hrs. I wish I’d asked what it was for, not hearing her tell me earlier, but by now, no-doubt Doreen was back in action, making sure that any signs of contentment, peace, or understanding had no chance in hell of maturing. She’s good at that.

For some reason unknown to me why this is the moment that what I thought was a swollen and painful right testicle started to turn into a really swollen and agonising pain-giving testicle! No idea what caused this, but as the day went on, in the morning, typing this, it got worse. I really am in the shit now, and have to walk to the chemist and then catch two buses to get home!
A daunting challenge, that daunted me! Argh!
Got to the chemist, collected the prescription, and had to decide whether to walk into Sherwood or use the bus. Not an easy decision. (Well, none are for me nowadays)
I knew that on the bus, there would be no chance of avoiding injury to Spanish Onion Henry. (I christened him that as I give names to all my ailments) Well, he feels that size, you see, to me. Hehehe!
Knowing that I had to catch the bus from Sherwood. No way would Spanish

Onion Testicle Henry have coped with walking up the steep hill; I decided it would be easier to walk into Sherwood.
There was only one really near-bothersome that happened en route.
When I was passing some of the brand-new Escotters on the kerbside. (Putting them in that spot must tempt the scallywags to use them on the road, surely?) I had the above thought (Oh, yes, I have thought every now & then, Why I recall having one in Made 1968). I had a few seconds scary . BY Gawd, SOSTH didn’t half sting for a bit. Good job, I didn’t go over. Anyway, I made a tag for him cause I see no signs of him getting any smaller.

Caught the bus in Sherwood back up to the flats and got inside, and must say, although I thought at the time, was painful, it was going to get a lot worse.

I dare not sit down at the computer at first for fear of inflaming SOSTH. So, I got the kitchen floor mopped. A pathetic effort, but it made me feel better for trying.

Then. Tina and Sam or Jodie from Meridian called. To tell me, Richard has spoken with them, and she has worked hard to get the NCC to allow some extra care time and arrange for the laundry to be done at no extra cost. She’s also trying to arrange for Richard – or another carer to go with me on Thursday to the Coppice hospital. That is a worry less; if it’s Richard, the hospital tells me it must be someone that can accurately answer questions about how I have changed in personality. Richard is the only one who can do that. I do appreciate them trying for me. ♥

After this, I honestly don’t know what occurred until the evening Carer arrived. It was not a good visit, a tension in the air as I recall.
I was not given the new double dose of Omeprazole. The Peptac server was left on the carer’s table. And the waste bags were not taken. But I still offered him a treat in thanks. It may have been me talking too much again.

Shortly after the Carer left, my body closed down after I’d taken my third wee-wee in an hour. I . Woke at about 03:30hrs and was soon back in the c1966, £300, second-hand charity-shop bought, crumb-containing, odour-retaining, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, nauseatingly beige coloured, non-working, virus-breeding recliner again, after taking a wee-wee.
Great, only four awakenings all night to use the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket).
A record that!

Inchcock: Wednesday 12th October 2022

/ Inchie / 2 Comments

POLITICAL COST-OF-LIVING CARTOON

Energy prices have risen this year by 23.2%

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04:00hrs: I woke after another practically sleepless night. Vague of mind, but the sudden need of the overused encouraged me to stir myself, and rise like an elephant does, strugglingly up onto my feet, and was soon in the wet room, and I sat there awaiting the movement to begin; it was just too painful to rush things along, I know, I tried. But soon gave up. Hehe!
Couldn’t find more than 16 cracks in the ceiling this morning; methinks that my ailment that’s known as is getting worse?
Tried the crossword book, but no concentration was available. I tried counting the veins in my legs… After what seemed a ludicrously long while, the action began. Grindingly slowly again!  No question about it, Constipation Conrad was in charge.

Once the torpedo started creeping out, the pain eased, and it kept going. It was getting it started that was the problem. But still at a snail’s pace. Still, the pain slowly got less, so I was content and even considered having another go at the crossword puzzle.
Yet again, there was no bleeding from . I’m not complaining! Although, the piles did feel a little tender. I decided to tackle doing the .

I didn’t have a shower, it was a little early, and I didn’t want to disturb my neighbours. I stripped off (Such a horrendous sight), that’s why I only have a shaving mirror in the flat. I was tending to, washing and medicationing my unused department to get the pain over with first. All done now!
Two only, and miniature ones. Great! I got both my socks on without having to use ! Head slowly shakes swankily! Admittedly it was still as painful as using her and getting fingers trapped or scratches in the legs, but still, I was rather proud.

And, the legs, feet, and ankles were looking good, the best they had for months. Of course, the darned was not better. Of course, they will not get less painful until I get the seen to? I got perfumed, after-shaved and dressed.
Then Germoloided the stinging . Then I started to Germolene the tender area and stomach folds. Got dressed.

Off to the kitchenette, put the kettle on, and took these two rather well-taken shots of the view from the kitchen window.

I used the Lumix set to the SCN Night view mode.
By gum, didn’t I do well?
Hahaha!

Of course, it could be down to ailment. And I only think that I did well? Searching for compliments here? Har-har!
I emptied all the waste bags into the large one in the kitchen, then refilled a caddy with some. Thompson’s Signature tea bags. I tore up the carton and put it into the new black bag.
I missed the bag hanging on the door handle altogether! Bent down to pick up the pieces of cardboard and knocked over Metal Mickey; The handle landed perfectly right on one of the ! .

I made the brew, and I got the computer on. I knew it was going to take me ages to catch up on yesterday’s blog finishing. So I got stuck into it.

Had arrived. At that very moment, bursting into life was . She was bad for a few minutes, and this concerned Richard. Who resisted my wishes not to, summoned the 111 NHS line and then called for an ambulance, bless him. Told me I didn’t look well at all.
Two paramedics arrived within minutes. As they were speaking to Richard, thankfully, Anne Gyna calmed down a lot. But kicked of with a vengeance, and the medics wanted to know all about the history.
But the BP, temperature and Pulse were a tiny bit out, but nothing to worry about? How come?
Many investigative questions were asked and answered. And they told me to throw away the Hemp medications that I’ve been taking to get to sleep. Actually, they have not worked for a few days, anyway. The paramedics believed that the Hemp, although have a calming effect, they could and will cause panic attacks. Which they thought might have caused the chest pains.

I thanked them. So when they had gone, I asked to throw them in the bin or give them to someone who could make use of them. Blimey, some monies worth went in the chute today. But, better safe than sorry, I say. They will check with the Doctor after she’s spoken to me about it next week.

Why I’ve no idea, but since then, the pain from , did not stop, but they were definitely easier on me as time passed. The reflux stayed the same, more or less?

Oh, also, I have to take Pentax four times a day, but a measured dose, not the gulps from the bottle I’ve been taking. A capful each time. This is most important, the paramedics told me.

I was feelings a smidge out of sorts, but not poorly. The flat with my having three people in it, talking between themselves about the situation, confused me a little, I think. I’d put the hearing aids in with the new batteries, but it was still not easy to catch everything they said. I wasn’t even sure who was talking to or with who. Hehehe!

I got in a pickle through a lack of concentration. Suddenly it was time for the evening carer to call. It was Carer Charley. Apparently, the Meridian staff had been discussing me with Richard about me today. They have been told not to take any items or treats in thanks from me from now on? Now I’m sulking!

Got some nosh cooking. Fishless fish sticks, tomatoes, gherkins, roast sliced potatoes, and tried dep of the tomato & Basil flavoured sauce – I will not be trying it again, though. Not nice, indeed, unpleasant. However, the rest of the meal was just fine, nothing to overpraise, but satisfactory enough for me. Overall taste-rating: 6.5/10. 

I found that I’d missed off of the blog these two photos that I had taken earlier.

The cloud formations were, I thought, tremendously pretty.

I got the pots washed, and Carer Charley called to give me the medications. She gave the tablets by hand, one at a time, and poured out the Peptac measured dose for me using the bottle cap. Then took the waste bags with her to the chute for me. ♥

I carried out the checks with the usual repetition of checking things a couple of times. The taps are being turned off mainly.

As I climbed into the £300, second-hand shop bought nine years ago, c1966 made, discomfiting, alarmingly Karki-beige coloured, crumb containing, TV remote hiding, not working recliner, I caught my ingrowing toenail on some loose cotton on the quilt. Which made me jump a bit, swear and give out an … Unfortunately, this caused me to drop the remote control to the video player off of the arm of the recliner. Naturally, in the dark, even using the wind-up torch, I could not locate the absconded remote.

Cracked yet again, once more… the toe with the … which hurt! Retrieved the remote, and got the DVD with a Sherlock Holmes disc, turned it on, and got down into the recliner once again… started the DVD playing with the sub-titles chosen…

Realised I had not turned off the room light. So I cautiously took the torch with me to turn off the light, using the torch to get back down in the recliner. At long last, I was able to wallow in the old-fashioned over-acting style of Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes. I watched through the first episode, but I started dropping off on the second – so turned off the player and snuggled down in search of Sweet Morpheus.

Couldn’t let me get to sleep again. Well, not for ages. Humph!

Inchcock Today: Tue/Wed 16/17th February

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

Wednesday 16th February 2022

The body woke, and immediately appreciated that I can only remember waking up four times! Much better sleep!

The brain failed to fully engage! For I somehow found myself in the spare room sorting out the bag for Independent Living Coordinator, Warden, and desk-top dancer, Obersturmbannfuhreress Deana. Wondering why I’d done this before having a wee-wee or even putting the kettle on to make a brew of tea confused me. (Doreen?)

I had a wee-wee and checked on Little Inches fungal lesion (itching a bit). But it was not bleeding, I just cleaned things up and applied some teeth-grindingly painful ointment to the affected area. Argh!

Thought I was going to make a brew of tea… found myself topping up the Treats-Shelf instead? It was obvious to me, plainly, that Vascular Dementia Doreen was going to be in charge of things today! I could do nothing about choices until things calmed down from her. Which, thank heavens, they did shortly after I’d made a brew of JS Red Label Extra Strong tea. But Doreen’s attentions were mentally crippling at times today. So annoyingly so, as well.

Went to make a brew and took this photo of the dark, dank morning view.

The SYS was not too bad. Pulse at 90, up a bit.

Humph! I did drop the darned BP machine as I was putting it away! Tried it out again, nervous of it being buggered, but it worked okay. Used the Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer. The surface temperature read as 34.5°c. A bit higher this time. Good!

I got settled on the computer for a slow, challenging, frustrating session on the Local Snippets blog. Not much went right the first time, and much correctionalisationing was needed. But then again, this is the usual scenario nowadays.

05:45hrs: As I got up to go for a wee-wee, right-loud clunking noises came from the flat above! I think Herbert must have had an Accifauxpa of his own. Didn’t bother me, mind; I was up anyway. I don’t think it was loud enough to be heard by anyone else who might have been trying to sleep. Not that the sanctified, consecrated, uncommunicative, ascetic, aloof, sniffy Herbert would be bothered.

Around 06:00hrs, I spotted the moon through the balcony doors, peeping through the thick clouds. So I searched and found the Canon camera, which I’d left on top of the microwave, and spent some time taking many snaps of the moon. Determined to try and get some decent ones this time.

I think I took about ten photographs of the planet in total, but these four were the only ones that came out fairy acceptablyish. At least, I hope so.

Back to the computer and blogging. However, things WordPress-wise came to an end for a while; why?

Fries salary has since been increased to $23 million!

The landline flashed and rang. It was from Natalie of the Health 7 Social Care team, called Meridian. To explain to me that they (Meridian) had had another no show, and my Carer should arrive by 09:00hrs. Nay fuss! Fair enough, at least they let me know.

When $23m salaried Liberty-Global, number-crunching, mist and mirrors boss Mike Fries, Virgin Media got the connection back, I pressed on making errors after mistakes on the blog. After a couple of hours, the card reader failed to identify the SD card reader… Grumph!

Eventually, my trial and error, or the computer did it on its own, the reader was loaded. I stopped doing the blog, and I caught up with other things. Email reading and replying. WordPress reader, then comments. Then on Facebooking.

Carer Elena arrived and looked after me in a caring and attentive way. (I loved that! Hehehe!) She had been called out to cover for the absentee. Elena Took the waste bags to the shute on her way out for me.

I got the blog done and posted and began the Local Snippets one. However…

.

Gnash! Groggleturds! Gorblimey Crap!

To done-in mentally to do any more blogging now. I got the ablutions tackled. Aye… Worra good session it wor! One little cut shaving, a very minor toe-stubbing, and no falls, walking into anything either! Medicated, refreshed, into the new PPs, night attire donned, and off to get summat to eat.

Deana called on me, and we had a mini-chinwag.

The thud, thudding started from above, so at least I know Herbert hasn’t snuffed it. Shame!

My only success of the day… Cheesy baked potatoes and sausages. Sound like nothing special? But I altered the recipe I usually use to make these treats this time.

  • Take the grated cheese out of the fridge an hour before needed. Best do it after starting the oven going.
  • Clean whole potatoes in a not too hot oven (180°), Part of the secret here, cooked at this lower temperature, but for longer. Top and bottom of oven selected.
  • The cheese, preferably Red Leicester, or any strong cheddar into a large basin. Put the cheese in this, then sprinkle some anchovy or distilled vinegar into the dish.
  • Add a good-sized knob of best butter.
  • After at least an hour and a half (according to the size of the spuds), check to make sure the potatoes are really soft with a semi crispy husk. (If unsure, you can sprinkle water on the spuds as you put them in the oven to cook).
  • Remove the pots when nice and soft inside, and cut them each in half on your chopping board.
  • Remember, once the oven is empty, turn the temperature up to 220°.
  • At this stage, expect burnt fingers, and be prepared to make a mess…
  • Save the skins to one side.
  • Spoon out the flesh into the pre-prepared basin and cheese. (You may need to apply Germolene to your fingers afterwards).
  • Mix well with a fork to start with. Then changes to a spoon. When you are content that you’ve ironed out any lumpy bits…
  • Spray the inner of the half-husks with a bit of vinegar or oil of your choice.
  • Load up the husks with the bashed-up potato-cheese mixture, in fact, overfill them a smidgeon, and press down with a spoon.
  • Then run a fork over the top of spuds so that they will brown off crisply and easily.
  • Get them back into the oven, and expect them, if medium-sized, to take 20 minutes to half an hour. But keep checking cause different varieties take different times to cook and brown off.
  • Traditionally, you can now treat any burns gather the many clumps and splashes of potatoes bits and cheese from the floor, cupboards and your clothing.
  • Once you are happy with the colouring to your taste of burntness of the half-potatoes, all you have to do is remove them and resist eating any before they get onto the plate!
Wunderbar!

Serving Suggestion wot I dun last week

I got settled in the recliner, and blissfully I fell asleep. Ah, nice!

“♫ Oh, Susana… ♫ rang out, and Carer Valerie came in. Couldn’t really have a natter as such cause she was on her mobile most of the time. But she granted me some time eventually. Hehe! Thanked her with some treats, and off she trundled. ♥

No messy tonight. I got the head down after Valerie had departed and remembered to take the Hemp capsule. It was lovely drifting off. I only woke up about for times, marvellous!

=  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =  =

Thursday 17th February 2022

Only a few wakings up during the night. I’m well pleased with that, but, on the fifth…

I more or less sort of bolted into wakefulness. Full of misapprehension, a muddled state of mind, and in desperate need of a wee-wee! Don’t know why I mentioned it now. Although it’s been this way for over a week now…

I worked out who and where I was as I tumbled out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner, and had wobbled like Charlie Chaplin to the wet room. I’m not sure why I did not use the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket); it would have been so much quicker?

Despite Bladder-Barry insisting that I needed a wee-wee so badly, things did not flow very easily. I waited patiently and could almost feel the flow coming from the innards… girded my loins as felt it invade Little Inchy… and a pathetic trickle evacuated, that was so painful! Aha, another infection! I wondered if I had any of the tablets left from the last one… but lost my train of thought when an instant need of the Porcelain Throne arrived; at the perfect moment while I stood above it… I thought.

Oh, dear, similar trouble as the wee-weeing? I got sat down, thinking things were going to erupt from the rear-end. I was still there ten minutes later, having a go at the crossword puzzle. Nothing much was moving much at all…

Then, an explosion of gas had burst free! Obviously, I didn’t see it, but I got the feeling that it had caused ripples on the water in the bowl. Instant relief of the pains! Within seconds a mammoth, rock-solid torpedo slowly, very slowly forced its way out, hitting the water before it was entirely out of the bum?

There was no discomfort with it at all? AS I stood up, the stool moved, and splash and clunk were heard… well, I think they did. No mess whatsoever. Mind you, there wouldn’t have room alongside that missile!

Got a good wash and beclothed my body. I went to make a brew of tea. I’m not sure what I did with the camera, but the photo I took of the morning view came out really vivid. I mean, it was around three o’clock in the morning; how did the Canon camera create light when it wasn’t there? Then I remembered dropping the camera last time I used it… argh… I wonder if it’s damaged? I’ll take shots of the Health Checks in a bit, see if the camera is okay this time. Or, did I change some setting when I retrieved the thing from the floor? I’m talking to myself again!

I went to get a duster to clean the computer screen and saw that the moon was appearing through the smallest hole in the dark clouds.

So I skedaddled and got the Canon camera post-haste and back to the kitchenette.

I had to photograph them quickly, cause I could see the clouds enveloping them all the time I was focussing.

One of the pictures came out in a different size to the others? I now have to assume that I broke something in the Canon when I dropped it on my foot yesterday?

Or is it me?

My progress on blogging has never been harder work than it is today. I am so frustrated.

I suppose with getting up early and the kerfuffle with the wee and Throne, added to the semi-confused state of my mind… this must have affected me in some way? Or am I just waffling again?

The care arrived after 07:0ohrs. The new gal, who is so confident. Kiya, I think, or maybe not. She spent a while chatting with me, trying to settle me, I guess. She also recognised I was not like my usual self. Damned good that, after just three visits. ♥

I spent a lot of time doing the header and top graphic. Got them done in CorelDraw and put them onto this blog… Then, realised I’d put the wrong dates on both of them… Gragnangles! It cost me another hour or more to get them amended and reposted!

Aha, I’ve not done the Health Checks yet! So I did them. Started with blood pressure taking. The figures looked okay to me.

Then on the temperature taking. Which was getting higher at last. Apparently, 35°c is my minimum target, they tell me. It’s the closest it’s been for a long time now. Jolly good show, eh?

I found on the SD card a photo I took earlier from the kitchenette window. Forgetting things and getting confused is the mark of the devil; Vascular Dementia Doreen!

Did I mention she’s moved in?.

I just had a visit from Dizzy Dennis. One of the instant jobs. I’m going to get off of blogging now, and get a sit-down, and try to do nowt for a while, Thought Storms permitting.

I made a meal of sorts, potatoes, a small microwave BBQ burger, and a lemon cheesecake. Nowt fancy, but I needed rest and sleep so much by then. Still, I did enjoy it, such as it was. Taste-Rating: 7.5/10.

Washed the fodder things and got down in the £300, c1968 recliner. Mind confused and so tired, and within minutes I was off visiting Sweet Morpheus… and dreaming with it.

Half-an-hour later, ♫ Oh Susana ♫ rang out as the Carer entered the flat. Carer Fria Freestone, at least I think it was. Fria soon got the medications sorted in a matter of fact way; she chose her treat; drink (Tequila) and nibble (Easter egg), and was soon off, bless her.

I checked the flat for anything not safe. Taps etc., and got back down in the recliner. At first, I struggled to get back to sleep, but thoughts of Jillie arose, and I was soon off once more into the land of Nod! Hoping to stay that way for once… I’ll see!

Inchies Friday Diary: Festivities, gaiety and other fibs! Hehe!

/ Inchie / 15 Comments

Fort Thomas News Exclusive!

After several years of collecting scientifically challenging reference books, Professor Billum and his partner HRH Lisa, who are now stuck indoors due to the snow, are tackling the job of reducing the number of books in his basement library. He hopes to make room to expand his laboratory and thus, make more room for his medical experiments. Inchcock (rear) said; the task is phenomenal.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Inchies Friday Diary
Jollities, Festivities, Gaiety and other fibs!

I fang you! A decent kip for once; I reckon I only jumped awake about six times overnight. Not good, of course, but better than the preceding three evenings efforts.

By the time I’d clambered tottering dangerously out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly-beige-coloured, not-working, haemorrhoid-testing, rickety recliner and caught my balance, I realised how evil the eyes were this morning. So, first job the drops, let them settle, then put some of the sprays on them. After this, they were no worse, and maybe I imagined it but seemed a little better than when I woke.

The ablutionalisationing was tackled first, even before thinking of making a brew of Glengettie tea (Worrying that?). It might be the fact that each time I woke up during the night, spongy emissions of wind were evacuating out of the rear end, and Reflux Valve Roger was sticking a bit, then bursting forth, painfully for a minute or two? But, I felt a little stinky, I thought – mayhaps the rear end emissions were going on while I was asleep?

I got inside the wet room, and the mind meandered off on its own. I got the shower going! Boing! I totally forgot what the time was, and after getting the teeth done and shaving with only two tiny minor nicks, thus assuming a Smug-Mode… I still didn’t recognise what I’d done at that time, and I merrily whistled (Which is getting harder each time I lose another tooth) and sang gayly to myself as I started doing the medicationalisationings.

MedPhorpainWhich soon put an end to the Smug-Moding, whistling and singing! As usual, I got the potentially most painful job of cleaning and creaming Little Inchies fungal lesion out of the way first. Agony! There are no pain or problems with the Saccades eye drops, Harold’s Haemorrhoids cleaning and creaming, ears oiling, or Arthur Itis Phorpain gelling.

As I was about to increase my level of smugness, it dawned on what time it was… and I’d just used the noisy shower – Guilt overerflowethed!

A Carer arrived, name? Erm… Gorrit, Cassie! She was to take the laundry for me on Fridays, starting today. I had got the bag and capsules softener all ready for her. She did the medicationings, and I treated her to some nibbles and a drink, and off she went.

Onto the computer to finalise yesterdays blog and post it. A message came in on the mobile, it was from Iceland Foods… Ah, I hear you now asking – Why did the pillock have another order from Iceland? The silly old goat had one yesterday?

Ahem! Well, that would be due to my Wednesday and Thursday’s Whoopsiedangleplopping. I made some cheesy potatoes for Richard and got his visiting day wrong. So, I gave them to Valerie, who came. Then Thursday, when Richard was calling, I made another dollop of cheesy potatoes for Richard again – then, I had no potatoes left. Hahaha! So I made a minimum order for today to get some more spuds for myself to have. That’s about right, I think.

The rain started to fall, but not too heavily. Then began to get a little threateningly darker out there.

I took this picture from inside the balcony, too wet to open a window.

Shortly, the Intercom rangeth. The Iceland delivery had arrived. I pressed him in, and I hoped it would not be the same driver as yesterday, or he might think me a bit of an idiot having a dirty-great big order, then another on the following day. He’d be right if he did, by the way!

He carried the bag of spuds separately, only two carrier bags, and he took them into the kitchen for me. Haha! I wish the bloke yesterday had taken the eight bags into the kitchenette for me.

I thanked him and let him choose which can of plonk he fancied, and off he trotted with a cheery farewell.

I’m glad I remembered to get the drain-unblocker. Not a lot to sort out this time. I got some cheapo Beef Jerky to go with the freebies to make the minimum order. Oh, and some Cadbury mini rolls.

Sister Jane rang, or did I ring her? One or the other. Dementia Doreen again. Total blank on what we spoke of… indeed am I thinking of yesterday? Sad, innit?

I then rang Obergruppenfürheress, Warden and Ballet Dancer, Deana. Not seen her for a while. The gal was at home. She’d tested positive for SARS-CoV-2 and had been isolating. She hopes to be back on Monday. I said I was ringing to let you know you hadn’t collected your treat bag this week – now I knew why! Said they would keep until Monday. Haha! Nobody tells us owt, do they?

And an hour or so later, the door chime rang out its’ ♫Oh, Susana♫ chime, and in walked Carer Valerie. She had collected my washing for me, and she’d brought it up to me. Bless her cotton socks! She said she’s made sure they were dry enough for me.

So, I got off of the blogging and sorted out the clothes. By gum, that bag holds a lot of stuff. Hehe!

I got in a pickle, found the coat hangers, put some on the door, and spent a good while faffing about. Then realised I was not doing this in a planned, smooth way… Hahaha! 

I meant to put all the rousers together on a rack and jumpers shirts on the other.

Which seemed like a logical thing to do.

However, Dementia Doreen had other ideas for me. I ended up with a mixture of trews and jammies on one rack and trews, jumpers and shirts on the other. Ah, well, at least I got them hung so the creases can fall out a bit.

The toploftical, unforthcoming, ascetic, eremitic, aloof, sniffy attituded Herbert had been giving me some tapping on and off for an hour or so. Now, he’s just gone into Turbo-Tapping and Banging mode! What a Git! Mind you, let’s not forget my Whoopsiedangleplop with using the shower early in the day? The difference, I think, is snot-bag superior Herbert enjoys doing it on purpose?

I made a rare mug of Thompsons Punjana tea. As the rain stopped and the sun fought its way through to shine on Inchcock Towers… well, Woodthorpe Court then. Hehehe! I grabbed the Canon camera and took this photograph of the view.

Then the hungers-pangs began, and my desire for some more cheesy baked potatoes overcame me. I got up some steam (I was starting to feel a bit weary) and started to prepare the third on the trot (4th Counting Carers Richards and Valerie’s) Cheesy Baked Potatoes meal!

Cheesy Potato Nosh – Flavour Rating 9.3/10!

Note: Only the four half spuds? No, not self-control; I made eight and kept three to cool and have later on (Cunning?). I would have had four, but I dropped one when putting it from oven to pot – it splattered onto the floor and a slipper, which both needed attention, cleaning sorting out. I may have muttered something along the lines of “Oh, bother?” Then, I feasted on the meal, put the tray on the Ottoman, passed wind and belched… and Flake-Out-Time!

Herbert started clanking and clunking away again, and I woke to his mechanical overture. Hehe! Pig!

Luckily it didn’t last too long this time. And I drifted off again. To be woken by the tune of “♫ Oh, Susana… ♫ chiming out. The evening Carer had arrived. She was in a rush, so no chinwagging was permitted on this occasion. Off she trotted, bless her.

I spotted the meal things on the Ottoman, and I took them to be washed and put away. Noticing the lack of wonderful sun-setting after three days of gorgeous one, I stood and had a perusing of the evening sky. I realised that even with the absence of the usually vivid colours for the last few days anyway, there was still a beauty to be beheld.

Getting daft or soft on my old age, or not?

I went onto the computer to work on the blog and visited Facebook, the TFZ and Winwood Heights sites.

Went on CorelDrawing; Herbert was doing the odd banging about, so it was not until gone midnight before I got my head down; off I went and slept a bit better, only about five shooting awakes.

ODE OF THE DAY

Wants (Peace) & Not Wants (Herbert)

Cataract operation, before it’s too late – appealing!
A friend with time for long chinwagging,
Someone who doesn’t hate or finds me appalling…
But I don’t blame them, and that’s a bit galling!
One tablet to stop my shaking and trembling…
The ability to once more try cartwheeling?
The willpower for me to stop earwigging,
A better than Warfarin pill, stop the haemorrhaging,
But most of all, I’d want, after some deep thinking…
The end of people, domineering,
And those who go around sneering,
Those who cannot care have empathy are non-obliging…
The know-alls who go around rubbishing…
Rushing, superior in outlook, verbally scathing…

Compassionless animals, one lives above me,
Above my little independent living flat, you see…
I nicknamed him Herbert, and he’s not trouble-free…
He makes noise at all hours, sometimes the whole day,
He’ll start again today, I guarantee…
He acts superior, and nonchalantly,
But, the things he’s roisterously making go to charity…
The housing officer says no cause to moan, apparently,
So I won’t, or might lose the flat, alackaday!
So untouchable Herbert will carry on noisily…
He’ll keep waking me at night, arbitrarily,
I must resist responding early morningly…
What can be done redeemingly?
Two wrongs don’t make a right, seemingly…

KEEP SAFE IN THE SNOW
Keep safe all of you, affected by the snowstorms please,
If you can, avoid driving and soirees,
Polish your ottomans and tallboys?
And for even more joys…
Try canned beans and saveloys?
Sew the missing button on your corduroys?
Have warming wine delivered by Pomeroys?
Play great music, possibly by the Beachboys?
But don’t contact the killjoys!

Inchcock Today: 2022 Cometh

/ Inchie / 21 Comments

2022 Cometh

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

Friday 31 December 2021

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

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

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

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

2022 Had Arrived!

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

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

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

Inchcock Leaves The Wet Room!

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

Health Checks Time

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

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

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

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

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

Hehehe!

TTFNski, all!

♥ Have a betterer 2022 year! ♥

Who is a Grobble Knumphchuckle?

/ Inchie / 2 Comments

So, who is worthy of the sarcastically Inchcock invented name of a Grobble Knumphchuckle?

A ‘Grobble Knumphchuckle’ title recipient has most of Anthony Charles Lynton Blair qualities and attributes. But the chosen few have the added ‘quality, ‘skill’, ‘trait’, ‘ability to have failed in their chosen sphere of financial skullduggery, hustling, or whatever position they have conned others out of to get employment and absolutely phenomenal salaries! (I’m not jealous at all). 

The hated few, selected band of natural, proper, worthy candidates that have been granted the name by both Inchcock and his Alto-Ego Inchie! We start today with the current Top Dog himself…

Mike Fries (Left)

Distraught UK Customer on the right!

Grobble Knumphchuckle? Yes!

A most deserving case. He has all the traits required. Plus, I am dead-jealous of his salary during the Coronavirus he’s paid himself, of… wait for it… $1 million a week! According to the internet, difficult to be sure if this is true as Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet keeps going down several times a day… and ever upwards in cost!

No wonder he’s smiling! I Can’t blame him!

Chief Executive Officer of Liberty Global

Who acquired British cable group Virgin Media for $24 billion!

Virgin Media’s new owner faces a shareholder revolt for paying its boss $1 million a week during the pandemic. The American chief executive of London-based Liberty Global pocketed $52 million (£36.7 million) last year, even as the broadband and TV provider was hit with a deluge of customer complaints.

A number cruncher? Conman? Mafia-backed?

Who knows. He appears hubristic, conceited, self-assured, smug, arrogant, daredevil, self-asserting, shameless, procacious, scoffing, impervious to failure, and a moralless bloke?

Then again, if I was getting away with conning my bosses, shitting on my Nottingham customers, and an excellent number-cruncher and bean-counter as Fries: And getting away with it, paid a fortune to fail… and cunningly hiding the actual figures so cleverly, I might be the same as he is?

Which does nothing to help me get the over-priced, ever going off-line Virgin Liberty-Global Virgin Media internet to work?

You try to sign off and try another company! Huh!

Fries Virgin-O2 Deal?

O2 and Virgin Media have confirmed plans to create a new company through merging. The deal establishes a quad-play (broadband, TV, phone and mobile) company that will rival BT. The combined business will have up to 40 million commercial and residential customers and be worth over £31 billion.

However, several issues, including regulatory, will need to be worked out as the ‘deal’ progresses.

Quote From Fries

Mike Fries, Chief Executive Officer of Liberty Global, said: “We couldn’t be more excited about this combination. Virgin Media has redefined broadband and entertainment in the UK with lightning fast speeds and the most innovative video platform. And O2 is widely recognized as the most reliable and admired mobile operator in the UK, always putting the customer first.

Putting the customer first?

Oh, my mistake, I thought for a minute that Fries was claiming that was what Liberty-Global Virgin Media were doing… even he is not brave enough to make that claim… is he? He was talking about 02.

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

Dear Mr Fries:

The figures and statements I’ve found on the internet, maybe pre-juggled or crunched, appear better to the investors. This searching the web and creating this blog is not accessible when Liberty-Global Virgin Media here in Nottingham, England, keeps going down several times, every day! I find it confusing.

Hehe! I am what used to be called a Silver-Surfer, although I am bald. I struggle with disabilities, stroke, heart-surgery recovery, and vascular dementia. Not that this would bother you in any way! Empathy is obviously not in your dictionary. Knowing how to run an internet service that is even close to being semi-reliable is also beyond your capabilities, but hey… we’re only customers!

Statement

 Liberty-Global businesses operate under some of the best-known consumer brands, including Virgin Media-O2 in the UK, VodafoneZiggo in The Netherlands, Telenet in Belgium, Sunrise UPC in Switzerland, Virgin Media in Ireland and UPC in Eastern Europe.

My Response:

Is your internet none-reliability the same everywhere, Mike? Or do you have something against the proletariat pensioners of Nottingham, on the tiny island, UK?

Statement

Our global investment arm, Liberty Global Ventures, has investments in more than 75 companies and funds in the fields of content, technology and infrastructure, including strategic stakes in companies such as Plume, ITV, Lions Gate, Univision, the Formula E racing series and several regional sports networks.

Reads impressively; At least to anyone who isn’t cursed with your destruction of Virgin Media reliability. Are there any vestiges of mock customer service and Liberty Global’s constant, Nottinghamian internet failures? Several other unhappy old silver-surfers are using Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet (when it’s not gone down, of course) in these blocks of old folks flats that would like to know. Why am I asking you? Proof of my senility here!

Statement

Liberty Global total number of employees in 2020 was 23,000, a 13.86% increase from 2019.

My Response:

Are the imitation customer services team, electronic or even the human variety occasionally gagged? Do they have scripts to read from? Have you told them never to mention Libert-Global when someone calls? That is if they can get through and the LG telephone is working. Thus, Mr Branson can be blamed for the abysmal service we are receiving?

Statement

Liberty Global is a cable company providing video, broadband internet, fixed-line telephony, mobile, and other communications services to residential customers and businesses.

My Response:

I think you’ve missed a word out of the above Liberty Global statement… Should it read, Liberty Global is a cable company providing video, broadband internet, fixed-line telephony, mobile, and other communications services to UNFORTUNATE residential customers and businesses?

Have a good day!

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..

Inchcock’s Tips & Advice – Part 3

/ Inchie / 2 Comments

Ordering Food From Sainsbury’s

A risky business if you forget to tick the No-Substitute button on each item ordered. Their best foul-up was substituting a Milk Roll loaf of bread with pikelets. Their worst, and mostly unrelated to the thing ordered, was when I ordered a bottle of disinfectant, and they issued me with a pot of brown shoe polish! The most hilariously opposite was when I ordered Marmite Biscuits, and they sent a box of iced lollies? But with supposedly suitable substitutes from Sainsbury’s record, it’s better to have nothing than something you cannot use or do not like or want!

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Questionnaires Letters Official Bumph!

Ah, there will be much of this. All of differing nature, from accusative, mock-caring related, but mainly of a financial nature. Then the circulars, cunningly disguised to look like officialdom paperwork to confuse and con. Plus, of course, notifications of increases in rent, carers fees, reduction in bank interest, medical appointment, debt chasers, and the odd birthday card.

Nottingham City Council Fairer Charging Team, Nottingham Revenues and Benefits Team. Financial Assessment for Social Care Services

Since Coronavirus, thus anticipated to continue forever, are the telephone interviews and questionnaires. Last week, I got a call telling me they would ring me later in the week to fill in a detailed form from the… I love the length of this title… The Nottingham City Council Fairer Charging Team, Nottingham Revenues and Benefits Team. Financial Assessment for Social Care Services. The chap had a clear voice on the phone, so I caught most of what he said. He would ring on Wednesday at a specific time, and we might be on the phone for a while as the questionnaire was several A4 pages long.

Come Wednesday, a different man rang as promised. We started the Q & A’s. Talk about detailed: we were on the phone for over two and a half hours! Mind you, I did have to stop twice, for a wee-wee. (You’ll find this a problem in your dotage!)  Bank details taken? All my ailments were requested, with the effects they cause me, in particular. There are so many, I must have missed some off. I wondered at one time if I should have mentioned the pustules and boils on my bum, but I didn’t bother.

After so long using the phone, Colin Cramps came on in the left hand and fingers. I had to swap to use the right hand, which has Peripheral Neuropathy and is affected by the Stroke. This gave me more pain and hassle, I dropped the phone and got the shakes, and the right knee got a sudden jerk as Peripheral Pete started jerking and jumping, which I thought had broken my patella! All the time, considering what the interviewer must be thinking is going on! I had to stop again. to take a painkiller.

Finally, all done, I was a physical and mental wreck!

Something you whippersnappers might keep in mind for your future mind’s delving into senility. Not an easy thought, I know.

I’ve not heard any reply yet.

DWP Department of Work and Pensions, Disability and Carers Services Charging Team

  • We may write to your doctor or someone else who can tell us how your disability arrests you.
  • We may arrange for a doctor to examine you
  • We may write to you asking for more information
  • We may arrange for someone from your local Social Security office to come and investigate you.

To me, this blast out a message: You fiddling lying old git! No chance! You can whistle for any financial help from us.

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Waking Up!

Firstly, according to how the Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas and Hassle-Stakes are going at the time, you will either be glad you have woken up again or wish you hadn’t!

Above is an indication of how you will feel as you slowly grasp, work out, or guess at what day and the time it is. The split in your reaction will be about 60/40 in favour of depression!

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Medicationalistalisationings

It seems that Vascula Dementia Doris (Who will undoubtedly visit many current Whippersnappers in their old age) had been causing me to get the taking of the medication all wrong. And I’d got into a bit of a mess with it. The Social Services supplied me with Carers, AM and PM, to sort and control my medicines. This has not been the success that I’d hoped it would be… Humph!

I’ve been having the carers call for about two months now. Last week was the fifth time that no one arrived. Not so bad during the week, cause I can get help to call them, and someone in charge will be on site. Which I’ve done four times now.

On one occasion, on a Saturday with no one in the Winwood Court Meridian office, I rang the number and got a central control room, wherever that is. The gentleman (I use the term loosely), answering, got annoyed at my not hearing what he said, and I was stuttering a little, which seemed to bother him somewhat. But someone did arrive shortly after and sorted the medications. But why did they not get in touch on any of the occasions to let me know? I was just told that someone failed to turn up?

Rather annoying, and this meant taking the tablets so much later. Which on one occasion was six hours late, by which time I was in severe pain with Duodenal Donald because the Omeprazole had not been taken! Also, every prescription package from the chemist has had a problem with it. Being late, no Codeines sent, the wrong Peptac… on and on it goes. If the charges go up, or when, I shall have to be vehement in my complaints cause nothing has changed.

Be aware of these problems, Whippersnappers!

Self-Administered Subcutaneous Injections

As you young-uns get older, there is a good chance of you having ticker problems. By-pass, Aorta Valve replacement, DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis etc. Of course, I have been blessed with them all.

Enox3a

In my case, subcutaneous injections are infrequently needed. Only when the INR level gets below 1.0, but it has to be kept in stock just in case, as it could be a lifesaver. Two injections, twice a day. Along with increased Warfarins for a few days, whatever is instructed to me by the Haematology, DVT Clinic at the Queen’s Hospital.

It helps a lot if your chemist supplies hypodermics with needles that are unbent. My chemist is very good at sending them to me (picture above). As well as wrong items on the prescription, missing them off altogether, and failing to deliver them. Who is it?

Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Road, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, near the launderette and pub, is near the ignorant staffed Lidl store. Telephone: 0115 960 5453. Be wary!

Subconjunctival haemorrhaging Eyes

These add colour and depth to your good looks!

Perhaps! Hehe!

Part of the Inchcock Advice & Tips Series

More To Follow folks

The Stroke Ward then Care Home

/ Inchie / 17 Comments

First, I’d like to explain that as bad as I thought my Stroke was at the time, after being taken to the Queens Medical Centre, diagnosed with having had an Embolic stroke, I thought I’d been lucky. Then I was transferred to the Newell Stroke Ward at the Nottingham City Hospital; I soon realised it was not bad at all!

The event took place while I was in the land of nod. I woke to find myself all disoriented, dizzy, and confused. I was sprawled half-in, half-out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, unfit-for-use, recliner. Unable to sit up at all, I was lolling to my right. Actually, I thought I might be dreaming at the time and sort of waiting for the fog to clear – of course, it didn’t. The most embarrassing thing in my life (Bar one, but I’ll not mention that!)…

Mass Bodily Fluids Flood – The deluge!
Miss this first section if you are queasy!

(A lifesaver, thanks to Nottingham City Homes!)  And the deluge came! Trying to work out what was happening and pondered on whether to press the Medical Alarm Wristlet button…

Every part of my body that could leak leaked! This was without any warning and so rapid, even the tears that eructed out and I think missed the face cheeks it was so violent. The nose ran, sweat poured from all over, I dribbled from the mouth – but the worst two of all – the bowel evacuation almost shot out, and the wee-weeing too! (at The QMC later, the Doctor said that my ear wax turned to liquid?)

Even pressing the alert button was hard work; I was swaying about and fell out of the chair onto the floor as I got to the control and pushed it. Then found out I could not talk to the controller who answered the alarm!

QMC – Then City Hospital Stroke Ward

Yet I was aware of the mess I was in and ashamed! But I was talking again, but so aware of how I must have looked and smelt! A blank spell from then on until I was being pushed into the scan room at the Queens Medical Centre.

Memory went until I was in an ambulance on the way to the City Hospital stroke ward, The Newell Ward. They kept taking me for e-rays and scans for the day, but I can now recall little of the processes.

Sister Jane and Pete turned up later. Having been to the flat and cleaned up the mess I had made – Bless Them!  So many of the patients were in a much worse condition than I was, which made me realise how lucky I had been. Walking again needed some therapy, and since then, I have started stuttering. With Peripheral Neuropathy diagnoses two weeks earlier, walking ever since is a challenge nowadays. But it could have been so much worse!

One morning, a new patient arrived. He looked like the spitting image of Tyson Fury. They had to move some beds to make room for him, which he was wheeled in on.

Then The Wailing Nights Began!

For about ten hours every single night – for fifteen of them, the poor chap would start calling out for his Mummy! No one else got any sleep! But it was not his fault, naturally. The insults being thrown out to him from other patients desperately needing sleep obviously made no difference.

After the first two or three nights, Tyson (I never knew his name, I can’t remember it if I did), who had been placed near the door, opposite the rota board, realised he could see the names of the other patients, and he would go through everyone… ‘Bill, Bill, help me!’ ‘Malcolm, I need help, fetch my Mum, please!’ ‘Dennis, call for my Mum, I beg you!’ And so forth… then start again repeatedly for hours longer!

The insults and lousy language slowly got worse as the frustrations grew in the other occupants. “F’ing shut your F’ing Gob!” and “Oi… shitting nob-rot, shut the F’s up” are two that come to mind, of the many. Although I had sympathy and empathy with Tyson’s plight and had resisted joining in the angry banter… on the last the 15th night, I very nearly did, but I didn’t.

Unfortunately, they gave me Clopidogrel to help prevent any more blood clots. Then found out I had an allergy to them. Hence the ankle ulcer and extra bloated feet and legs.

Move Me To A Nursing Home

I was so relieved when a doctor told me that they were desperate for beds for new stroke victims. Relieved? Ha! Had I known what was to come, I would have refused to go! They would be moving me later in the day into a Nottingham City Homes care home for a couple of months.

The single room, with adjoining WC with a shower, was nice and snug. There were no shortages of residents to come in and have a look around and help themselves to anything they fancied. Amongst the things that went missing were one hearing aid, pens, biscuits and a pair of socks. I later saw a bloke wearing the easily identifiable diabetic bamboo socks. My Get Better Teddy Bear from TFZer Pattie in Canada disappeared, but I found it in the TV room?

The routine went like this:

  • A carer would come in to help me get the ankle strap on each morning. They all got it wrong, nearly crippled me! Hehe! The door would open (no locks), and a mystery voice would yell out, ‘Breakfast in ten!’ Then give me the medications. I missed many breakfasts.
  • Occasionally a cleaner would come in to ‘do’ the toilet and moan if I’d left any shaving foam in the sink or floor.
  • The midday food summoning would be something like “Tea!”, “Food!” or “Nosh” followed by the estimated time I have to be down for. I missed a few meals.
  • Evenings, medications and taking the ankle strap off.

Inchcock with his retrieved Teddy Bear! ♥

I was told not to leave the site at any time. During the nine weeks, I was there, my laundry was only returned to me three times. Sister Jane and Pete kept me supplied with socks and shirts from the flat. They asked me to make a statement for the police when a bloke attacked a woman with a knife.

If nothing else, this experience has made me all the more determined to avoid going into a care home.

In a Repeated Dream

For several weeks after leaving the Car Home, and Jane and Pete returning me to the flats, I had a repeating dream… I would be leaving the hospital… with the Grim Reaper calling me back to the Stroke Ward. I don’t think it got to me badly, but I was glad when they stooped! (Watch it now, the bloody thing will start again!) Haha!

Part of the Inchcock True Tales of Woe & Make E’m Laugh Series!

Plans For My Next Failed Escape Bid!

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

Last evening, my beautiful Caring Carer, Julia and I made a plan to enable my escape from this lockdown in the flat, and get outside, and have a hobble into Sherwood! Thus I can avoid the Obergruppenfhüreress’s and Lap-Top Dancers, Deana and Julie, on my way out!

After Julia had tended to my medicationalisationing, she asked me the questions about what meds I’d taken other the those on the list, filled in her report (That’s the one that no one has ever read yet!). Checked on the supply of drugs in the kitchenette drawer, she explained her plan for my escape from the lockdown. Julie departed, taking the waste bags with her, to the rubbish chute for me. Bless her cotton socks! And leaving an elderly dithering tenant, feeling sad at her departure. (I always think this way when a good, kind carer goes me, Tsk!) I decided to write down the scheme for Wednesdays Great Escape to Sherwood! I had a sense, a feeling, that Julia’s ideas were going to be so doable and workable.

Unfortunately, within seconds of the Carers’ departure, I had an unwelcome ‘Haze-Over’ attack. Not sure how long it lasted, but I seem to have lost possibly a couple of hours of memory. (Although they did partly return in the morning, which is not a rarity) Later on, I found myself sitting in the recliner with the TV on. With crumbs over my large blobby-like belly (bits of Twiglets in the folds? As I woke and returned to life, of sorts, I was feeling great! Almost clear-headed. And I soon worked out that I still had time to catch the bus down to Sherwood… But, no!

Closing down the computer to get things ready for my breakout, I saw several emails coming in. One from Amazon, concerning two deliveries, the one in the photo was the tracking of the Morrison delivery, which I was confident that I’d made it for next week… It was apparently just a few minutes away from being delivered. The other regarding deliveries that are due tomorrow… This put the kybosh on my escaping today and now tomorrow as well! Obviously, another Whoopsiedangleplop on my behalf!

Hello, the delivery is here now… I’ll be back…

Hehehe! I’m back! A young lady delivered the four parcels of fodder, putting them through the doorway for me. I fell in love with her straight away, had it not been that I am about 60 years older than what she looked, six inches shorter, wore PPs, was bald, sight-impaired, deaf, and nearly as attractive to women as Lillie Savage… I momentarily thought about asking her if she fancied a cuddle, massage or petting… but I thought better of it no point in risking prison at my time of life.

I thanked her, and off she shot. I took the bags through to the kitchenette, and I popped into the wet room for a wee-wee.

And this one was one of the worst I’ve suffered for flipping weeks, or even longer!

I tore at my clothing to get at Little Inchie, dropped the trees on the floor, and prepared for the torrent to come…

But it didn’t! I could feel the urine building up increasingly more painful pressure… all I could do was wait for it to do its own thing – any pushing from me was just unbearably hurtful, so I waited…

And waited a little longer. Sang a song, whistled, prayed… Eventually, it felt like a couple of days later, the tsunami evacuated!  Agony! Whoosh! Splashback like never before, I had to take a shower to clean up my anaemic looking flabby body and then get the wet room disinfected.  I now seriously fear the next wee-wee session! But the relief when it had finally passed almost sent me dizzy, if that’s the word.

Now, having spent an hour or so weeing and sorting things out, I realised that the frozen food in with the other groceries will not be frozen any longer! I hastened to get at it as quickly as I could to get in the freezer.

I gave the big toe a bashing against the server trolley wheel – Now I’m getting annoyed with things! 

However, I continued to get the purchases away, starting with the now unfrozen frozen foods. Luckily, there were only two frozen items, well, previously frozen items to go in the freezer.  The now liquid in the bag Twister lollies, and a box of beef in gravy, I poured them into the freezer… A joke there, did you see that? Despite such a bad morning, I’m intent on keeping up my pecker! Although, I am not too confident of my chances after the next wee-wee arrives. Ahem!

The sight of the ready-made meals brought a warm glow to my stomach. WW Chillie and wedges, Roast Vegetable Risotto, and the Chicken dinner substituted with Beef & Black beans, Shepherd’s pie, and Creamy Chicken & Leek. Even though they had not got any of those, I ordered, and they were all substituted. Morrison Cottage pie, by Kirsty’s red potato Cottage Pie (might be nice that?).

Not that I seemed bothered this time, the memory of the disastrous tsunami-wee-out now! Imagine that happening when I was out and about! The thought of it makes me shudder!

Haha! The fridge stocks are looking healthier now, anyway. Milk, bread in the freezer, I’ll certainly not starve for a bit.

Took this shot of the end car park through the balcony window. It was far too windy for me to open the window.

Oh, oh, I want another pee! With apprehension, I took it. Well, well well, what a difference that was! Heavy flow, but nothing oke as vicious as the last one was! I was delighted with the improvement and almost total lack of any pain. Shame about the lengthy PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling).

Views From The Kitchenette Window

I viewed the colourful evening skies,

Somehow they appeared to be wise,

And I observed clouds like eyes,

Winter’s coming; I’ll need to acclimatise!

The photo above, lips and two eyes, large in size,

Those clouds make me want to enigmatise?

I find myself also wanting to somatise,

Natures beauty makes me realise…

Mankind knows nothing, weather forecasts-wise,

I see amazing skies, from this flat in the highrise,

These views make me want to prioritise…

To stop, look, dream, and rhapsodise!

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Hunger Pangs Satisfied

Made some cheesy instant mash potato and two beef pasties and plated them. Dolloped some Hickory Smoked BBQ sauce and a few slices of bread. A pot of custard & jelly (Classy, innit?), and another pot of lemon mousse. Nowt fanciful on that plate, but I ate the lot. Taste Rating 7.2/10.

Part Of The Nottingham Lads True Tales Of Woe Series