Inchies Ode

Inchie Today: Thursday 1st January 2026

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

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Here are some things you might like to try…
A bungy jump, from a platform 1000 yards high,
You’ll feel excited, your adrenaline will fly,
Should things go wrong, perhaps you’ll die?
Fret not, cause for humankind, the end is nigh!
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Pretend to act unintentionally, conventionally,
When required, act hackneyed, platitudinously,
Cut back on moments of showing crudidity,
Why? If you live to old age, quintessentially,
Your life will turn into a genuine tragicomedy,
Dementia and insanity will not be obligatory,
You struggle to cope with worsening senility,
You’ll glean many an unexpected infirmity,
Those most rife, nasty, often unavoidably,
The ones that seem almost statutory…
That can affect you mentally and physically,
Water on the brain can be helped surgically.
On the NHS, this is not an emergency…
I was scanned, diagnosed, with no urgency…
I’ve been waiting a year now, involuntarily,
Bladder cancer was treated when I was seventy,
Arthritis, Catheter bag, deafness, duodenal ulcer,
Peripheral Neuopathy, Cramps, and Glaucoma,
Brittle bones, prostate cancer, lymphorrhea,
Early life’s things you may well remember,
Recalling today’s breakfast? That’s awkwarder,
Music from the ‘50s-’60s? So much easier
Gene Pitney’s Twenty-four Hours from Tulsa,
1950, the Ames Brothers, ‘Sentimental Me’
Frankie Vaughan, 1955, ‘Tweedle Dee’…
But anything new, I lose, inexpiably…
Memory Mangling Malcom, my incumbency,
You’ll forget when you made a mug of tea…
Get on the wrong bus, miss an appointment for neuropathy,
Leave taps running, doors open, regularly…
Yer catheter will leak, escaping pee,
Take tumbles almost weekly…
A fractured wrist, bad back, fractured knee?
Frustration will send you all hysterically,
Loneliness, well, hypothetically,
You get the odd nurse & Carer,
Disabled, you can’t get to the Doctor,
Who may put you on Apomorphia,
You forget you forgot to remember?
You build a mountain of memorabilia,
Your health  is rarely avuncular… apraxia:
You’ll miss your rumpy-pumpy, so remember…
If you get a positive answer from someone tender,
Get in there, and make it an all-nighter!
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I’ve spent all day updating or recreating the lost Word files. Depression Darius paid a few cursory visits, and High-Mood Horis the odd call to put me in a couldn’t care less mode.

Having managed to stay awake last night to take some photos of the New Year fireworks. (Not too successfully). I remembered for the first time in 70 years, to say my ‘White Rabbits’ for good luck. I’ll try anything. I was shattered and slept for an unbroken six hours until the Carer arrived to wake me up. He was in fine fettle, I have to say.
After he’d departed, I got this morning’s fireword photos checked out and on file.
Gere they be. Varying results.
Not so many explosions this year, and what few that I could, against those I missed, indicate that my luck is not about to get any better. Haha!.
Kept missing the big ones. Humph!
Made a few artistic ones.
Not that I meant to.
Just caught one this time.
Not too bad.
Well…
Ayhup! Caught some!

Really got stuck into the Word files, recreating.
Lots of mistakes. Why change at my age?

Only stopped for Carer calls, emptying the catheter bag, when I stubbed my ingrowing toenail to curse a little. To make repeated mugs of tea and refill the water bottles. As of now, I still haven’t had a wash and shave… Partly because I left the hot tap running while cleaning a teacup. (Mug, but Grammarly’s AI kept changing it) I did take a few photos of the view. There was nothing else happening yet worthy of my Kodak Tim 2 recording. Slowest day for months. If I ever get off this computer and make a meal…
Stop moaning, Inchie!

Afternoon shot.
Half an hour later.
Half an hour later.
While prepping food.
To eat later.
Close up that caught the
streaky clouds in the dark.
Perhaps the best one?
The last one of this session.

Part of the prepped food for mixing nosh.
Instant potatoes today. With Leicester Cheese, no-butter butter and seasalt. Some of the chicken Polish Kielbasa (Sausages). If it hasn’t gone off yet, I’ll slice the tomato and add it later.

Now, I must get back on the blog to catch up.
Oh, earlier I sent out emails with the blog link… got an email back from Jenny🤎, saying the link didn’t take her there. I think I made this cock-up four times this week, not posting the blog. Thankfully, Jenny let me know each time, bless her.
This time, I will get back on the WP Reader, comments and email checking.
Back soon or in the morning if not.

Good Morning.
I got caught up on WP, if nothing else.
Cataract Katie was too bad to continue.
So caught up this Friday morning.
Not a lot to add… very little…

I spend a long time getting the meal sorted.
Mixing the potatoes with sea salt, Leicester Cheese, cheese granules, and no-butter butter was a long job. By the time I finished it, the spuds were cold!
I added a can of garden peas to it as an afterthought. Cut my finger opening the can. No fret, I’ve plenty of ointments and plasters in the drawer.

I got it on the tray and took several photographs of it, hoping to take a decent one. Huh!… this is the best one of the five taken with Kodka-Tim-2.
As you can see, it was a good snap, even for me.
In the morning, my lost photographical skills continued. But you’ll see the mess I made of them on the next blog. That is assuming that the Lord does not return, World War and the apocalypse don’t arrive, or I have another seizure and kick the bucket.

TTFN

Inchie Today: Wednesday 31 December 2025

/ Inchie / 13 Comments

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Cutting up potatoes, I found a wriggler…
A maggot, but used wriggler; it sounded funnier,
Just two cuts, to the same finger…
Using on each a waterproof plaster,
While the sauce got burnt to a cinder,
To give the potatoes a bit more flavour,
I added tandoori, lemon & coriander,
And the recommended garam masala,
Stood-up, how I didn’t fall’s a puzzler…
I went into a dissociative seizure,
Compared to the norm, this was longer,
Spuds were rock hard, my language vulgar,
Got potato waffles from the refrigerator,
I picked up long picker-upper, Peter,
To retrieve the spoon dropped earlier,
Knocking over a bottle of malted vinegar,
After mopping it up, the floor was cleaner,
Finally, I was ready to serve up dinner,
My waffles, burnt and withered,
Everything on the tray was assembled,
Carefully, into the front I hobbled…
My ingrowing toenail was stubbed!
Spilt food, carpet to be scrubbed,
Meal binned, pots washed…
So, my food plans were altered,
To bags of crisps, ready-salted…
Salt & vinegar, and barbequed,
New Year views to be photo’d,
Things didn’t go as anticipated!
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Afternoon Delight.

A little later…

Sunset, Gorgeous!
Zoomed in a bit…
And another…
Then right out.

The third attempt produced this
edible meal. At last! Hehe!

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TTFNski!

Sweet Dreams!

Inchie: Friday12th December 2025:

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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Each day brings new challenges: Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, Seizures, Errors, Mistakes, and of course, Failures and Depression.
This has to be coped with, I know this.
It’s possible to accept these daily trials, because I also know there is no way of changing things. Docile-Subserviency is my only defence, well, it’s not even that really. There is no protection, no shield from lousy luck. One option, I suppose, is to go crazy… mind you, I’m on my way there now. 
You could not write a fictional diary with so much bad luck as I suffer diurnally in real life. There’s an element of humour within this tale of woe. I can’t find it yet, thought. But it’s there, maybe conjured from within my watered brain, Dementia Doreen, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, or my previously famed resistance to depression. But of course, I can ask them for guidance, but getting a reply is a bit hopeful. Hehe!
However, silly as it may sound, I think there is a better chance of getting an answer from these ailments than from Social Services. I was going to get help with the wheelchair problems, my computer problems, my financial problems, water on the brain problems and Neurological assessment and treatments… none have arrived yet. Still, I may live long enough for just the odd one to come? Which one would I like it to be? 
Erm… well, perhaps, or not, maybe… anyone would be of help. Chances of getting any? Zilch comes to mind. But, you never know, I might get surprised?
On the other hand, my recent medical history says none, with a loud inner voice. Shame!
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Woke at 04:55hrs. Night bag removed, and into the wetroom for a stand-up body scrum, teggies, a shave, this did not take place, then some medicationalisationing of my inner and outer extremities. Totally, at that time, I got dressed and went into the kitchen to take some shots of the view on offer from the kitchenette window. Again, hoping to take a decent one at least.
The second was better.
Got on the computer, but ran into complications again. From MS Word, CorelDraw and Google. No idea why things were acting up like they were. So many aspects were misfiring. Space bar not working, then came on again. CorelDraw froze. I got a message from MS re: Excel, but could not grasp the technicalities, so closed the window and then all the others and left it for a while before trying to boot again. Went to make a brew, returned and reset the calendar clock, and gingerly, but hopefully, turned the computer on. Nothing happened? The lights were lit? I meandered back to the kitchen in the full grip of .
I took this snap of the slowly lightening sky. It was not a bad one this time. Compared to what my one eye saw and how the picture turned out. To say I was feeling so low and in a fair degree of depression, I noted this. I reckon I was convinced the computer had thrown in the towel, angry at all the failed promises of help that never arrived, and had resigned myself to it. Back to the computer and turned it on. This time, noticing the external drive thingamajig was flashing away at a fair pace. Took a snap of it, I’ve not got the foggiest idea why. The computer booted up, and the working light continued. I think it might be MS Excel and Word updating something? I waited 30 minutes for the flashing to stop, then opened Google and CorelDRAW. Ah, that’s better, things seem to be working correctly, well, as near to properly as one can expect from bug-ridden, overcharging CorelDraw. My attention was interrupted by a text message on my mobile phone. Ah, hopefully that will be the night catheters ordered by my Carer last Wednesday. (It was).
I was tickled pink when the computer came on again and had a visit from . Which proved enjoyable and rid me of worry. But also this rare but welcome ‘Sod-Em-All’ sensation that comes with Horis’s attendance, caused me to wander off the plot, and I spent over three hours plus, working on the much missed ‘lost-but-no-idea-how’ word-list recreating.
Was I bothered at the time? Nope! I regretted it in the morning when I realised I had done absolutely nothing on this blog and had to start from scratch. Yet I thought I had made a start? I suppose I can blame .

Then, I had the longest-ever seizure that I can remember. I estimate that it was for three hours, and the day had gone! The Carer was ringing as I was recovering from the effects of the visit into the unknown. My part-drunk mug of tea was stone cold, my body half hanging out of the chair; I reckon I was lucky not to fall off it. Yet the after effects, compared to a mini-seizure, were piffle; I was back near normal, within seconds, and the acrid taste coming up from the innards was barely noticeable. 
Carer gave me my medications, rubbed some pain gel in the right knee and was off, bless him.

The District Nurse arrived. I’m always glad when this happens. She’d come to check on my right leg and but
saw the state of my left arm, and proceeded in a no-nonsense manner to pick out the dried blood and lymph blobules, clean it and put a plaster on. Telling me (with a smile), she had not come to do this, just your leg. Then she moved onto the leg; whipped off the diabetic strapping, pulled down the under-sock, and removed the blood-soaked plaster, cleaned it and put a new plaster over it. I thanked her and off she went on her rounds. I bade her farewell.
This is when abandoned me, and . And stayed for the rest of the night.

This Is Spunk
A New Mexico resident who dwells with a large clowder of cats. Don’t let the cute expression fool you. He is the leader of the group and his paperatzzi owner, Tim. No doubting it, he’s a handsome one. Although please don’t tell other furries that I said so. Hehe! 😹🤎

I overcooked my oven chips a little (a little? Hehehe!)
That was after going through the whole packet of chips, especially selecting the small ones that would cook faster, as hunger was starting to get the best of me. I knew I’d just got to run a sweep of the computer with CCleaner and thought they would be nearly ready by the time I finished, about 12 minutes.
But no, of course not.
Had me deciding to do a few minutes of the word-listings. pillock Eventually, an hour later, the door chime chimed, and I smelt the burning!
I took the tray of, shall we say, singed chips out and photographed it. The Carer didn’t notice the smell, which amazed me. Medications were issued.
Then I made up a meal of crisps and opened a can of pork hock. It had a ring pull, which I pulled. The result was a cut finger, well, a cut thumb. I got a packet of Cheesy Curls, some cheese, and put the meat on a tray.
I missed the chips naturally, but was pleased that the makeshift meal tasted good.

= = = = == = = = = = = = = = = = =
= = = = == = = = = = = = = = = = =
TTFN

Inchie: Thursday 4th December 2025

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0515hrs: I burst into life, bounded of off the bed and did a double somersault, catching the night bag as I landed on the floor and did fifty swift press-ups. Then ran yodelling away into the wet room and removed the night pouch. A bit of shadow boxing then…
Well, alright then...
0515hrs: I woke up in the £300 second-hand shop bought, c1966. moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner.
I had to force myself t stay awake long enough to get up and fight against Dizzy Dennis and Lost-Balance-Belinda, as I painfully got the nocturnal bag freed and emptied. I was not in good condition, mentally of physically, this morning. Confusion Konrad had a grip on me. However, despite these things, I started the day and within 10 minutes of using the Porcelain Throne, guess who visited me? Yes, it was good old, much missed, and very welcome !
Trotsky Terence was in charge of the evacuation. Messy, very messy!

Four-Wheeled-Walker-Wally was still in there, from my returning from the opticians. I made a mental note to empty the pod, collapse Wally, and move it back into the balcony later. It was a big job for me, and it’s complicated because I have to move things around to make space to get to the balcony. (I didn’t)

Off to get the kettle on for a brew of Typhoo. I took a snap from the kitchen. Is that the moon or a light at the back? I’ll try to get another tomorrow.

The Carer Who calls me “Bapu” arrived. She pointed out that the Warfarin Dosage note was still not there. We had another quick search, but others and I had already made them for the sheets without finding them. I said I’d ring the Warfarin-DVT Clinic later to confirm the dosages. No problem in the morning, cause Warfarin is taken at teatime or in the evening. Nice that my   “Baby-Princess” Carer had recognised it was missing. Medications were given, and she applied Phorpain gel to my knees. Oh, and my lower back.

I decided not to start the blog yet. I searched my Excel Medical file to get telephone numbers for my Doctors and the QMC Warfarin Anticoagulation-DVT Clinic. But the DVT number was not in the file. So I Googled to find it and added it to the Excel file, ready for when I can call. Then found that the number given was the same as the one for the QMC switchboard, so I amended the ones I’d put in the file.
I felt sneaking up on me. This, I assumed, was because I’d done, well, I thought I had done a decent job in getting the contact number… but still double-checked the numbers, just in case Arithmophobia Arron had made me get it wrong.

I tried the Doctor’s surgery first. This first call was answered by a Robot-AI. Telling me I was being transferred to “Our Customer Navigator. Beep-beep. Then I was connected to another Robot-AI. Telling me I had to pick a number to press; Press 1: If you are bleeding heavily or have chest pains, ring off and dial 999. Press 2: If your call is about prescriptions. Press Three; I couldn’t make out what the AI said on this one. But as I needed to know my current Warfarin doses, surely linked to prescriptions? I pressed 2 and got through to a third Robot-AI. “We do not accept prescription requests by telephone, Email, and started to tell me the most convoluted email address I’ve ever heard. Obviously, I could not keep up with what the electroid was blurting out at a rapid pace – so I rang off, pissed-off!
I think it would be easier to get through to MI5 & MI6 than to get to my Doctor!
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I tried ringing 111 to see if they could advise me on how to avoid being ignored, and maybe even who and how to contact for my Warfarin dosages. Or, not.

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A Robot-AI kicked in. Apparently, I was 23rd in the queue.
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Then I rang the Queen’s Medical Centre Switchboard. Well, I was going to, when a Carer arrived. I told him of my difficulties, and we both had another search for the Warfarin-DVT Anticoagulation doses sheet. He couldn’t spend too long, but he did his best for me. A total failure, of course, par for the course. Only a ten-minute call at midday. I also mentioned all the photographs that I’d lost from yesterday’s visit to the opticians. Crying in front of the Carer was not an option, even though I felt like doing so. Hahaha!
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Back to phoning the QMC switchboard.
The phone was answered almost straight away. For the first time, I was greeted by a human. Not a Robot-AI. I asked to be put through to the DVT Warfarin Anticoagulation Department, and within seconds, the call was transferred. Was my luck changing? No! It was getting worse, and it was answered by a Robot-AI! The electronic-faux-human rattled on, telling me the times they are open. I estimate exactly what he said, as best as I can. It may contain errors, or hopefully not. We are open on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays between 1100hrs & 1600hrs; and open on Fridays from 1100hrs to 1500hrs. We are closed on Thursdays and weekends. You can contact your Doctor by phone or email, or 111 at any time… Hahaha! Just what I’d failed to do! You couldn’t make this rubbish up as fiction. No one would believe it. Farcicalness & the NHS go together like cheese & onion nowadays.
It’s the young ones I fear for, well, not the Oligarchs or Eton attending youngsters. More of the proletariat ones. The NHS is not fit for purpose.
Unfortunately, the only party I see that wants to cure the faults in the NHS is the ‘Your Party’. But they cannot win an election because they don’t have enough candidates to stand for Parliament.
A sad state of affairs, politically.

Today was a feast of embarrassment, frustration and confusion. All normal here then!

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The end is nigh. No need to say why!
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Inchie. Mon/Tue/Wed 24/25/26th Nov 25

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I had a theme for my Ode to relate,
My body needs my brain to cooperate,
It talks to itself – rubbish, bletherskate,
My dream? In a cave, the walls began to corruscate,
I was with someone, a Carer, lover and old mate?
As he/she started on me, to lambaste & berate…
Its body faded, it began to loudly cachinate…  
Folks from my past appeared, as a conglomerate,
Hands in hands, they issued me looks of hate,
Then howled out loud, they did not abate…
I cooked roast potatoes, one on each plate,
I wanted to talk, welcome them, hospitate…
The howling temporarily stopped, as they ate,
Telling me I was a terrible ingrate?
Dark Dank Depressing Darius began to inumbrate,
The cave grew cold, and I began to sudate,
Saying out loud, “What the Hell’s going on, mate?”
Dead relatives came, their intentions vulnerate,
They came towards me, starting to ululate,
I tried to stroke, touch them, to vellicate…
I think they may have escaped via St Peter’s gate,
Their bodies began to rapidly deteriorate…
They started to dissolve, one by one, demoniacal! 
Is this real, happening, or maybe notional?
One went ashen, pasty, anaemic, demonical…
One shrank to nothing, all absorbable,
One cursed & swore at me, all abuseable!
Then exploded. Like a bursting bubble,
One blew me a kiss and said I was adorable.
I tried to hug her, but she was not touchable…
A ghostess, how can she be damageable?
She burst into flames, so she was destructible,
One turned to glass,  she was vitrifiable…
Then found out she was also smashable,
An eerie hum all around started to bominate,
Then the nightmare… morningmare did vacate…
07:00hrs, by gum, I did sleep in late,
Fell off the bed, what’s next to tribulate?
The dream ending might compensate.
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But and however…
This blog was not started until Thursday evening. Wednesday & Thursday were not good for me, but Monday was not too bad at all.
Tuesday was troubled with many mini-seizures, each one with not good after-effects, which took a lot out of me, I’m afraid. Concentration was just not there, many accifauxpas, and
Dawned that regularly, each one seemed deeper than it really was. Tuesday is best forgotten anyway, so the lack of photos or memories of what happened explains the lack of detail in the scrawny Tuesday section. 
Wednesday’s cock-ups ensured me that , bless him, he was again a frequent visitor. Many things will be out of sync and order, sorry. Last night’s lack of sleep, due to
And his ranting, perpetual criticisms of yours truly, made any proper sleep an impossibility. At least the seizures, only two, were lengthy. I judge from the ease and the incredibly short time it took me to recover each time.
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I gave up trying to sleep. Assuming it was about 04:00hrs, but soon found out, after taking of the night bag and going to the wet room to tackle the morning ablutionalisationings… as Carer Manpreet came in it to the flat, that it was actually gone 07:00hrs! WE got the Health Checks done & recorded, and the medications were issued.

Calendar changed, tea brewed.

Morrison order.
Moved them into the kitchen.
Treats!
Favourites.
Fridge loaded.

Afternoon seizures.

Evening shot.


Memory, Jet Black Blank
Seizures were having a heyday.

Morning shot, I think.

Evening shot, I think.

Just a guess at this rating.

Another stormy night’s sleep. If it wasn’t for my taking a bashing from , I may well have still been in bed when the Carer came again.
I decided to force my reluctant body from the bed, primarily, to get a painkiller, to counter the pain from Shirley’s worst-ever night-attack. 
I didn’t make it. I’m not sure how long it lasted, but it wasn’t long. I could tell after it was all over by the acid reflux coming up in my chest, throat, mouth, and nose, and it was taking so long for me to recover fully. Although, to be honest, I don’t think I did get back to normal, if anything about me can be called normal, (Hehe!) Until 17:00hrs, or so.
My plan, formulated this morning, was to get things ready for when Ejaz arrives, go with me to the opticians, and then do as much as I could in the time left, working on the replacement word list.

Carer Manpreet arrived, and she checked that the HC return figures had been recorded correctly. Medications were given. A gaping blank spot in my memory. I assume I’d had a seizure, but Manpreet didn’t tell me… or I didn’t hear or remember her saying. The state I was in after each one today is no surprise. I got on with the word listings for an hour or two. To my utter amazement, an Asda delivery arrived. What? Another food delivery? Beats and worried me.
Cheesey cobs. cheesey wriggles, and some iced bread rolls. I tried to gain access to my vacant memory void, to work out when and why.
Come to think of it, I may have got the delivery days wrong, sort of back to way, on the wrong days. They may have been the other way around. Or, not.
Topped up with waters of various types. It’s costly having to keep swigging a minimum of three litres every day to keep the bladder working.
Meat pies with shortcrust and puff pastry tops. Polish cooked smoked ham, Nurses drinkies, and some bacon bits, erm… lardons they are called.
Blimus, I’ve got the fridge and freezer crammed full again. But of course, the social lady promised me help with this problem. Also, with the finances, when I get home from the hospital. Assured me of help with the ‘spent a fortune’ on wheelchairs… getting them appropriately fitted and safe to use. 
Age Concern said… Oh, forget them. I’ve not heard anything from any of them! I’m disappointed and feeling a smidge uncared about, to say the least.

Carer Mizra, then Carer Ejaz, arrived. Mizra departed after medicating me and seeing that things were alright. Ejaz and I got down to the Opticians only to find that we had arrived too late and they could not test my eyes. Ejaz dealt with the receptionist, and they made another appointment for next Wednesday. How we got the wrong time beats me. Ejaz has always taken care of them for me. Sadly, my eyes are getting worse, and later I checked on the HHS site – bad news. It said that if you do not catch it in time, it cannot be repaired. Great! Now it will be another week before the test, and the optician can refer me to the EENT! 
The eye is getting worse each day, and I’m struggling at times. Nothing new there then.
Ejaz and I returned to the flat, and he put the laundry in the washer. Mopped the kitchen for me, and went to get the laundry into the dryer, and realised it had not finished washing. So left it until his subsequent call to collect it for me. Off he went; he’d done the best he could on my behalf.

I pressed on with the word listings, and Ejaz returned to fetch the laundry for me, and he hung it up on hangers. Night medications given.

I started making a template up for this 3-day blog… and realised it was gone 23:00hrs! 

Better get something to eat.

🤎 TTFNski! 🤎

Inchie Today: Sunday 23nd November 2025

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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May peace appear and adhere,
Today and for your future,
Ailments wane, for even longer…
Joy to each peacekeeper & peace lover,
Help from an evil-abrocator?
May humankind find benignity?
Can we all live again, less bleak & darker?
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03:30hrs: I bounded out of the hospital bed and somersaulted over the recliner, hit the deck and did a nifty 200 press-ups, followed by another 200 toe-touches. Nipped onto the snow and ice-covered balcony, and did fifteen minutes of shadow boxing. Opened a window and yodelled a good morning to all the wonderful people nearby. Then, I hopscotched to the wet room. Taking off my night cather pouch as I  hopped along. Well… that may be a bit of a slight exaggeration? Hahaha! Here’s the reality. 05:30hrs, I reluctantly stirred and tried to will and urge the clock to go backwards. It didn’t work, of course. So, I moved to the edge of the bed and freed the nocturnal catheter from the day bag. Dizzy Dennis was prompted into action as I had to bend down. Although I did not do the balance exercises, as I made my way into the kitchen to check if I’d left taps on, cookers on or fridge doors open, I was coping well, with very few wobbles from the catheters either.
All being in order in the kitchen, I visited the Porcelan Throne. I was a few inches off getting seated on the toilet lid, and a torrent of Trotsky Terence proportions fell, no, squirted, no, thundered into the porcelain, with a splash, and it was all finished! It honestly looked as if I’d decorated the bowl with brown emulsion eggshell paint. And had applied multiple coats too! Tsk!

I finally got out of the wetroom after an awful lot of cleaning up was carried out, Haha! Then I took these shots of the view, such as it was, from the kitchen.
Not very good, I’m afraid. I’ve been struggling lately to take any worthwhile morning shots. I could hear the police helicopter flying, but not see it.

I made a brew of tea and got the morning HC checks done next. Then had a think about how I could work things out, to get a shower with my ablutions.
I decided to get the straps off of the legs and ask Ejaz to take the socks off for me. Ejaz arrived at this point. As I chose not to have a shower after all. (Why, I can’t really recall at this moment) Ejaz got the socks off, then helped wash and dry my feet. Bless him. Issued the medications. No point in any creaming, foaming, or body checks until after I’d finished my ablutions.
He did a quick hoover around, bless him again.

I took this shot from the kitchenette window as the morning brightened up a little. But the rain started to come down. Another bad photo. I managed to capture, top left, a patch of turquoise sky that was not visible to the naked eye when I snapped it.

Back into the wetroom, and started the overdue body, teggie, cleaning. Before shaving, I felt the blood coming from . I got things cleaned up, dried and ointmentated various areas of my magnificent, noned, staut, healthy body, where it was required.
There were quite a few in need, but things like the Cartilages, Atkritis, Fractured-Knee-Frankie, Lymphorrea Leslie and Ingrowing Toenail Terry were unreachable. Well, I could have reached them, I suppose, but the pain and or dizziness I get bending made me shy away from even trying to medicate them. Chicken!
Getting the PPs on went amazingly well today! In fact, it was the easiest ever. 
And… Little Inchies’ Fungal Lesion did not bleed! 
Not only that, I’m not kidding… but I had no cuts shaving, and did not walk into any door or wall, all day long!

As I hung the towel to dry on the clothes airer in the hallway, I came as close to tripping over the electric cable without falling as I ever had; it was a miracle. This actually brought on my old, much-missed saviour and friend .
I pushed myself on the wall to prevent getting tangled in the heater and wire, and I hit the back of the other wall, which was where I’d left the walking stick, a bit of good luck there! I grabbed it and used the other wall to regain my balance. A definite and wonderful welcome !

Then, the Khagoule needed handwashing, quickly, before the hot water tank refilled and while it was still hot enough. Isn’t life awkward at times? Haha!

I got the dressing gown washed, and got soaked while wringing the Khagoule out after washing it, but it didn’t bother me, for was with me. Which meant I didn’t give a damn about me getting wet, and the kitchen floor would need cleaning or mopping!
Puft! Sod ’em all & everything! I hung up the shirt in the wet room to dry.

However, while mopping the floor, I slipped a little and twisted , but it wasn’t the pain it caused. I think it was the disappointment of me having a little run of good luck, for about 15 minutes, then things falling back into my usual feeling of defeatism. Self-pity and self-lambasting started!
. I felt so hard done by for some reason. Life is like this for me every single day, so why should it get to me so much more on this occasion? I think I just explained that?

I got on with the blogging at long last, and Carer Mizra arrived. A grand lad. He had to rush, but still got the socks and straps back on the legs for me and kept within his time quota. Thanks to Ejaz, Misra & Ahram for their understanding today.

The rain, although heavy at times, was start-stop at the same time. Does that make sense? I nipped into the balcony to take a snap of the end car park.

Later, I took snaps of the view from the kitchen again, hoping to get a decent one for once. The first one, to the left, was not too bad.
The second one was taken to the right of the window.
Not too good again.
I was determined to get a reasonably decent snap for the third one, Hahaha!
Oh, Flipping ‘eck!
I might give up trying to take night shops in the future… shops? Now I can’t even type right, or take might photos!

Carer Ahram arrived, and he issued the medications. Emptied the catheter jug for me. He checked that the last HC figures were recorded correctly. Thanks, mate.
Blogging, time to start the Ode, methinks.

Sunday morning catch-up.

Something people don’t eat often nowadays. Faggots in gravy with mashed potatoes. A ready-made microwave meal from Parsley Box. I made extra pork gravy, added it to the mix, and dunked two large cheesy-topped bread rolls in it. Do folks do this now? Well, I love them. Especially the faggots, they taste good to me, and no bother about what few rotting, hurting teeth I have left.
An old-fashioned meal?
Well, yes, but so am I. Hehehe!

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I.C.C. Carers’ Manpreet, Mizra, Abdul, and the last one, whose name I forgot to ask. Ejaz did not make any calls again today. Shame!

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🤎 MAY PEACE & JOY INVADE YOU 🤎
==================================

Inchie Today: Saturday 22nd November 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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I was sat-sitting in my broken recliner chair, Ftrali
And the community nurse did appear,
Took off the leg straps, checked Lymphoreoa Leslie, 
Left leg fine, right leg was a little bloody,
The right leg was medicated with cream & a plaster,
Replace socks & straps, easy for her to master,
I like this retired nurse, the twinkling of her eyes…
A no-fuss gal, who seems very wise,
My adoration, I could not disguise,
Of course, I only imagined her thighs…
Or she’d laugh at my miniature size,
It would only end sadly with sighs,
Naturally, I could only apotheosise,
All I could do was to eulogise,
Whenever she calls, she beautifies…
Even though my pulse may rise,
With my disabilities, there’s no compromise,
Why I feel this way, I need to analyse,
At my age, this urge to harmonise…
With nothing below to energise,
I feel as if I should apologise,
My body can no longer mutually synchronise,
If I say I accept this, it would all be lies,
All I can do nowadays is to fantasise,
Been waiting to be trephinated for 102 days,
Glaucoma operation, I’ve lost count of the days!
Silence from the neurologist diagnosing my seizures,
Broken knee, catheter, hearing problems, arthritis,
Lymphorrhoea, colour-blind, and duodenal ulcers,
My left wrist, hand, and fingers had five fractures,
Tried veganism, vegetarianism, cereals and pulses,
A Labour Government, full of fakesters,
Begging for help, but getting no answers,
In the hospital, I had several unfulfilled promises,
From Neurology, Cardiac, & Social Services,
A surgeon will need good eyesight to circumcise
There were threats made against the nurses,
From a bloke face-to-face, emitting curses…
I was stick-walking with the physiotherapists,
I got involved when the man clenched his fist,
Told him, ‘Do that again, you’ll get my fist’,
He went quiet. I think he got my drift,
The nurse thanked me for my intrusion,
That patient is suffering ego-depletion,
Is this ward for those with damaged grey matter?
Anyway, the man gave the nurses no more bother,
Getting back from the hospital last month? Dystopian!
I’d been to see my  neuropathy diagnostician,
I got lost trying to get to the tram,
Had to ask some “Where am I?’,
How to get to the tram station?,
I got there after some extravasation,
The ticket machine brought confusion into the equation,
Passengers were squashed in the tram so tightly…
Just getting into it was a Hell of a fight…
Will I ever get home tonight?
Then I suffered a heck of a fright!
The tram moved of and I took a tumble,
Help from others made me feel humble,
Two passengers helped me up without exhortation,
They caught me mid-fall, avoiding emasculation,
A lady gave me her seat without vacillation,
In the City Centre, yobboes were the danger,
Schoolkid gangs, I had to walk on tramlines, however…
I struggle up to the bus top, with great endeavour,
Checked the 40 bus times, none, only 40x?
This one did not call into the flats, oh boyee!
Dark outside, lit-up inside, I couldn’t see,
Which bus stop was the one for me?
Ended up in Sherwood, nine stops away,
Had to walk back up Windcheste Street, steep and hilly,
Help by using my four-wheeled walker trolley,
Many stops, as I went breathlessly…
Getting a cellphone call, and silly me…
Dropped in in the darkness, dearie me!
Got home to find Elaz waiting, worried!
Carer Ejaz by name, and Carer in reality!
I suppose I should mention my banality?
Dullness, unoriginality or predictability…
No, not predictability, that would be silly…
Certainly not descriptive of Inchie,
Seizure, tumbles, &, ailments with unpredictability,
Why can humankind not live with congruency?
A question of imbecility, verging on stupidity,
Each incident, occurrence, and contingency,
Can pop up suddenly, unexpectedly…
No one can be completely accident-free,
Politicians used to act collectivistically,
Is the coming Apocalypse be cataclysmically?
Societal collapse, to humankind, devastatingly?
I don’t view it as a catastrophe,
Politicians becoming deific…
They really do make me feel sick,
See the end, as being welcome and terrific!,
It’ll come soon, but I can’t be specific.
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Sorry, but it’ll be short and sweet. Time is thy enemy.
Well, he is mine. Hehehe!

Morning shot from the kitchen

No visit to the Porcelain Throne until late evening. But I felt it brewing up in the afternoon.
Tiny escapages that stunk awful, putrid!
I’m expecting a Trotsky Terence affair later.

Carer Ejaz did the first two calls. Body checks, Phorpain gelling, Barrier creaming tended to.

Midday Darkness?

Oh, I nearly missed this one.
The end of the car park.
🎵Where have all the pappaps gone?🎵

NOSH
Faggots in gravy, & mashed potatoes.
I peeled & cooked a beetroot, then chopped it, added some of the gorgeous Krakus red beetroot, concentrated borstch, and some pork gravy, mixed it all up, and cooked it in the microwave for 6 minutes.
I’ve redeveloped a fancy for faggots lately. The Parsley Box ready meals have great tasting gaggots… no, I meant faggots, not maggots… I made a grammatical mess of typing that! I thought I’d just leave it in. Sad! Hehe!

Soaked up the tasty liquid with two large cheesy-topped bread rolls, Mmm!

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
“Hasta luego, cocodrilo”
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Inchie: Tues 18 Nov 25

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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I dream of good health,
And a bit of wealth,
I don’t want a gold delf,
But my mind’s full of unwanted cultch,
In deciding anything, I’m a bit of a drench…
My dreams often produce their own stench,
I’ve lived in a lonely shell, wittwontenish,
With only myself to loathe and fratch,
Confidence & contentment I couldn’t catch,
I got no benefits, praise or backseesh,
No pets allowed, no cat, no dog, no fitch,
Stuck indoors, am I bothered? Very much,
My problems are many, and not picayunish.
No more moaning, I’m sick of doing it,
I’d like to travel and seek out the Sasquatch…
Go to the coast, and sit on the beach,
I’m going to stop being so poltroonish…
Try to stop acting paganish,
One more thing I would rather wish,
To see Starmer impeached!
I’ve lost the Ode’s plot again. Sheesh!
Let’s all pray for world peace.
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Up at 05:25hrs. Night pouch removed, and into the kitchen to check taps, cooker, fridge doors, etc.
Pleased with the photo I took this morning. It was an incredible blue sky up there this morning. I could hear emergency services sirens.
Of to the for an evacuation. Things started to move, then froze solid! A tiny section of the torpedo that had begun to escape practically had to be chipped away. Hahaha! Rock solid! I’ll ask for a Senna when the Carer calls later on.

Back to the kitchenette, and got the kaghoule hand-washed in the sink. It was a wick job, cause this one is made with fragile, thin material, cotton, I think. It’s comfy, but in winter it’s a bit cold to wear without a dressing gown. I hung it up to dry on the wet-room shower rail. Then I got a heavier black one with a kangaroo pocket to use after the scrub-wash, brush-up, shave & medicating were completed. Which went well!

No cuts, shaving. The teeth bled, of course, as did the gums. No droppages… although for the rest of the day, I was dropping so many things, I swore at myself.
The medications I could reach to use, apart from the fingal lesion cream, went well and were not painful at all. The lesion always hurts. The nasal & eyes were sprayed, then the ears were done last.
Got perfumed and dressed. All but had a tumble getting the protection pants on, but didn’t go over. Then off to the main junk room and into the bacony to take a couple of photographs. The first one of the dead end beyond the car park. The puddle of soil
had well-filled the end parking zone again. As I turned to get back into the flat, I twisted , but the pain was far less than it had been on previous occasions. Was this going to be a better day? Will Batman & Robin… Hehe!

I carried out the first BP checks and recorded them on the whiteboard to go on the computer later. Then made a brew of Typhoo extra-strong tea and had a couple of bikkies dunked and eaten. When I say a couple… Hehehe!

I got to the door, and nobody was there. As I was closing the door, I espied a small parcel on the floor outside. It was some ready-filled Enoxaparin hypodermics. I’m glad they sent them, just in case.

I got on the computer, and Carer Maapreet arrived. No doorbell pushed. Didn’t know she was in the flat until she came into the room. I greeted her. After clocking in on her mobile, she set out to get the medications readied. I took them, and she checked the BP figures on the NHS site. I’d made one error. Tsk! Then Manpreet got some Phorpain, well, it’s another name now, but the same thing, just not strong enough, only 10%, not the usual 20%… which also had gone down from 30%. 
It’s called Ibugel Forte, now. Massaged my lower back with it. Then both knees, Next, as she did a full body check, got barrier cream under the arms, man breasts and the right wrist. Bless her.

When Manpreet left, I went to try the Procelain Throne again.
What a session, I struggled to get it going, one giant torpedo finally agonisingly, painfully plopped out… to be followed by a great long-lasting torrent of watery mush!

I started on what was going to be an hour-long session of updating the missing word lists. Huh!
Three hours later, Carer Mirza arrived. Nice to see him. A quick visit. Painkillers and Peptac given. 

I went back to the computer to finish off the section I was on. I got carried away again and started the next one. By then, Carer Inhran was coming in.

I hastily got as much as I could on this blog. But it will be morning by the time it’s done.
Hang on, I was supposed to be cutting it down! I’ll get some spuds in the oven, and do the rest in the morning. I am a clot!

I opened the video of the seizure to show a Carer and explain the importance of not shouting or touching me. This is what happened when taking the snaps of it on the computer. (Laugh, I did!)
First effort…
The computer went into sleep mode just as I was pressing the Kodak Tim-2 button.
I tried again…
I forgot to take the flash off! Hehe!
Gave myself a solid halo.
Gorrit!

Later, I went to take a snap of the sunset. But by the time I’d found Kodad Tim-2, I was too late and missed it. Grumph!

I zoomed in to catch the last of the sun as it came around the globe.
The clouds seemed to be thickening.

Then even closer. This snap reminded me of something, but I’m blown if I can remember what it was now. Huh

Carer Ejaz is only doing the late-night call now, apart from the 2-hour Wednesday call. I do miss his help so much.
Polish sausage and potatoes, cubed and roasted, with Leicester cheese dolloped on top of them. Burnt to make the cheese crackly. One of my better cooking efforts. However, all was not good after eating this feast. I went to wash the pots and found I’d left the hot tap running; it had run cold. So I boiled some water in the kettle a few times, and left the pots and dishes to soak overnight, to be done in the morning.
I dropped the walking stick, stupidly bent down to retrieve it, and caught a wallop on the edge of the cabinet. And he had been feeling so much better and easier these last two days. Joined in immediately after the , and is still with me now, Wednesday morning 09:20hrs! 
I returned to the computer to shut it down, and as I got seated, an urgent, panicky desire to use the Porcelain Throne arose; I got up and nearly fell down again, thanks to , and hobbled hastily to the wet room. In my haste to get to the porcelain in time, again, I banged poor , this time against the door frame as I was taking off the dressing gown. Multitasking should be taken off of my agenda. On the plus side, I got down on the plastic seat in time, but only just.  
was gooey, soft, yet running? Boy, I’m going through the toilet rolls and fresh air sprays! I returned to turn off the computer… again, and did so.

But, with playing me up, getting into the old hospital bed proved too painful. So, I returned to the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, catheter-tube-trapping recliner. 
I got the legs up on a chair, and was soon in the land of Nod! Accompanied, unfortunately, by .

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TTFNski!
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Inchie Today: Monday 17th November 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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I’m fated to getting the occasional adumbration,
Like they will not go ahead with my trephination,
But that’s not going to give me any trepidation,
Nor my seizure giving me trips into oblivion,
Not my broken knee, or my fungal lesion…
Toothache Tiffany, or Cramp giving Colin…
My catheter, else my cartilages adumbration, 
Glaucoma Gladys, and not to mention…
My bowels fail and non-retention,
Or even my overnight elucubration,
Mainly, the problem is my brain’s fragmentation,
I’m thinking of becoming a futilitarian!
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No question, I’m an excellent forgetter,
And getting worse, not better,
In some ways, I’m a bit of a backslider…
Job not done, cause I don’t remember,
The job I started, when I mentally meander,
Start another, and get all a bluster…
If I get a phone call, seizure or visitor,
Then get asked what to do by a Carer,
Did anyone tell them I had Dementia?
I may go to the kitchen to cook a burger,
Go to the toilet, and, well, bugger!
Come out and start using the Hoover…
Then, back on CorelDraw on the computer,
Then it might freeze, read the brochure… 
But can’t see it, due to Gladys’ Glaucoma!
Then I smell the burning veggie-burger…
I swear, curse, become a self-belittler,
In comes a nurse to change the catheter…
Both leg strapping & socks off the Lymphorrhea,  
We have a laugh, I hold this as dear…
Off she goes, leaving me feeling sadder,
To the wetroom to empty the catheter,
I immediately saw another Inchie blunder…
I’d left the tap running, the hot water,
Now it could not have run colder!
I got even angrier and bolshier…
Leaving, I hit the doorframe with my shoulder!
Depression Darius Dawned, oh, super! 
I should write a book, could be a bestseller?
Under fiction, although true, do I care?
Near blind in my left eye, right one’s clear,
The left one’s view is cloudy and foggier,
I’ll have to inform the Doctor…
Get my eyes examined…
But each call, it’s a different Carer,
On the phone, it is hard for me to hear,
Ejaz & Nimra have been nowhere near,
When they were assured to appear…
They made life that little bit chirpier, 
Talking to the new Carer,
I detected signs of dyslexia,
Suppose because I was disconcerted,
I had to tell him he’d undermedicated,
The Warfarin, I grabbed & imbibed, 
How bad today was cannot be described.
It made me think I had cacodemonomania,
The neurologist mentioned the word cachexia,
He was talking of the effects of a seizure,
Nimra took a video of one I gave a chanticleer!
Ejaz helped me send it to the Doctor,
But no reply, nothing has been heard.
Life is getting harder, complicated, contrarier,
Each day I face enforced frustration & failure,
What can I do, can’t hear or see properly – Caramba!
Getting help? Ha! I’m a dégringolader,
With mind & body in need of many a chiropractor,
Failure, frustration, desperation & dysphoria.
Still, you don’t like to complain, do yer?
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I’m afraid that I’m going to have to cut down on this blog, seriously. For some time at least. Shame, cause I loved doing it so much. I’ll try to keep a cartoon, and an Ode, with a few words of the happenings on the day.
THE REASONS
Health and time. I’ve lost Ejaz. Other than that, I hope on a Wednesday. Nimra will not be coming again.
Carer Mizra, did one call today? I hope he can call more often, a grand help he is. Dispiriting.
Everything I do is taking so much longer.
The cock-ups, errors, and mistakes seem to be getting more frequent. In the last three days: Taps left on, remote control lost, bank and Virgin details cannot be found. Eight near tumbles (Cartilage & Dizzy Dennis). 
The video of me having a seizure was taken thanks to Nimra, and Ejaz helped me work out how to email it to the Doctor, but no reply or appointment has come back yet. The trephination, it sounded to me, like it was going to be cancelled. Fair enough. Waiting for appointments with the Eyes, Ears, Nose and Throat department. Teeth, Ears & Glaucoma; Glaucoma is getting worse in the left eye when I shut my right eye; all I can see is a blur. Not good at all. 
I’ve been fruitlessly begging for more Carers call time. Not that it is now a good thing, losing Nimra and, apart from Wednesdays, Ejaz. 
When I was in the hospital last time, the last few days, several callers half-promised me help. Social, with finances, trying to get extra Carer time (Haha!),
Help with wheelchairs, ordering food online, my computer problems, and arithmaphobia. Suggested rehousing me in a home with 24/7 assistance available. Not that my only experience of living in one after the stroke, encourages me in the least. But no one has been in touch. I’m not surprised.
Depression-Darius has me in his grasp. With the bad news about my Carers, Dizzy Dennis, Concentration Konrad and Lost Balance Belinda all rampant today, I’ve lost the will and interest.
I’ll be trying to get the word list done again; it’s such a slow job. I still can’t work out how I lost the files all in the first place… Oh, yes, the social lady said she would get me some help on that score. Hehehe! I believed her!
As for when the Doctor said they’d resuscitated me. I was gobsmacked. I can’t remember anything of being anywhere for treatment. 
That’s my moaning out of the way. Sorry.

Morning view

BP Hyper this morning!

Managed a mug of tea, before
I got carried away with words.

Carers table. Tided up by Carer
Nimra, before she left,
never to return. Sob!

Brightening up!

Floods at the end of the car park.
White car there again, oh,
and a red one too.

and kept me company all day.

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Have a good day!
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TTFNski!
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Inchie Today: Saturday 15th November 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Inchy: Haha! Yer lost yer remote control again? What a plonker, how many times is that now then?
Inchie: You pratt! yer could have given me a heart attack shouting up like that without letting me know you were here again!
Inchy: Wot you moaning abarght? Yer had one in hospital and they resuscitated yer? Hehehe, worra lark!
Inchie: Well, yer gave me such a start!
Inchy: Oh, I see, is yer depression, Darius, deep and dark?
Inchie: Yes, my concentration wanders about on the march…
Inchy: I suppose yer asked the Carers to help search?
Inchie: I did, Ejaz & Nirma searched and searched,
Inchy: I know, I saw you gerring all excited, het-up, heated,  agitated, frustrated and aggravated…
Inchie: Well, what are you asking for then?
Inchy: I love to see yer all uptight, yer heart-failure, seizures, water on the brain-baitingly stupididity and loss of memory… well, any one of these can kill yer, at the least it could make go doolally and or addlebrained!
Inchie: Last week, you said I was doolally and addlebrained? Is Dementia affecting you, too? Are you deranged?
Inchy: I’m but an alien in your brain, your inner-voice, visiting, to glean the reality of neurological damage that is undoubtedly being inflicted by an unknown perpetrator…
Inchie: Erm… can you talk in terms that are simpler?
Inchy: Although I am you, and you are me, I’m the wiser.
Inchie: The wiser what? Witch? Demon? 
Inchy: We’ve a commonality, a common denominator…
Inchie: You’re just trying to sound wise and clever!,
Inchy: I know, but who’s keeping who awake? I’m an educator, learned and clever, you’re just an old chinwagger!
Inchie: That’s a nerve to say, coming from someone who claims we are identical twins, but you are cruder!
Inchy: It’s not me who lost it, you made the clanger!
Inchie: You are me, you are you? You just said that, can you not remember?
Inchy: I’m not the one with Dementia.
Inchie: Get it right, it’s Pre-Morbid Cogniscent Impairment now, it used to be Dementia… I thought you were cleverer?
Inchy: I am your brain’s instructor.
 Inchie: I don’t see you as being a challenger…
Inchy: Challenger? I am your castigator, your failure rate investigator, and regulator!
Inchie: You’ve never helped, not even a friendly gesture…
Inchy: Ah, it seems that I’ve gotten to yer?,
Inchie: I don’t think you can help it. It’s apparent that you are a braggart and a gasconader.
Inchy: What if I told you I’m a long-stay Grim Reaper!
Inchie: Surely a Grim Reaper doesn’t have permission to be a contemptuous, censorious,  castigator? 
Inchy: If that were true, then you would be too, mucker!
Inchie: I’m losing the plot of this little natter…
Inchy: As I expected, but it doesn’t really matter…
Inchie: What do you mean, mister?
Inchy: Well, as a Soul[Tiller, who preys on the souls of those
waiting to become a departed…
Inchie: Go on, I feel the approach of a farceur…
Inchy: I know for sure that when I drag you up to Hell, you’re going to get yourself thrown out, deported!,
Inchie: Where to, Heaven? Mars, Pluto or Jupiter?
Inchy: No, none of them. To a place even worse than the inferno where Politicians will reside forever…
Inchie: I like it. 
Inchy: And now to the fiercesome, violent place where, for your sins, you’ll be sent as a forfeiture…
Inchie: Oh! Where, where… come on mucker…
Inchy: A place that’s misery-ridden, with its patricide, matricide, parricide, suicide, stabbings, shootings, murderings, wars, muggings, assassinations, massacres, and innocents get raped, kidnapped, killed and slaughtered… 
Inchie: You mean Earth, don’t you? I’m buggered!
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After hours of kip, waking me with a start, and Twitching Neck Ted started. I fumbled my way out of bed, and just about every ailment joined in making an almost dangerous trip to the hallway to press the admit button for Carer Nimra. I nearly fell over the long night pouch and had to fight againstit  .
I sensed a taste of the upcoming acidity in the mouth and nose; I assume I had a seizure when I was woken up, but no way of confirming it. I was
Amazingly out of sync this morning. But surprisingly, the dizziness eased off after a few minutes. The back pain and balance problems stayed with me all day, Hey-Ho!
Mirma was in a rush this morning, not that it mattered, as it happens, cause no point in doing a body check or ointmentating the knees, as I would only wash them off later when I get around to doing the ablutions. Did you note that? I realised the situation straight away because  was already weakening his grip on me. Good!

Carer Nirma issued the medications and realised I was not up to scratch, I think. She departed as I thanked her and apologised for not being properly with it. Other things must have taken place, but I’ll be blown if I can remember what.

I went on the balcony and did not dare open the windows to take these two shots, with the mist and rain out there. The first taken was straight ahead.
The end car park had only one car parked in it. They had parked on the chevrons. Not unusual.

I got on the computer and lost the plot again. Not that I’d got one really in the first place, other than a determination to get yesterday’s blog completed. When it came to using the word list, I opened one and realised it was just a template I’d made to start replacing all of the lost ones from scratch. I was morose and seemed to be getting worse, and I could smell my BO as I sat at the computer. I’d still not got the ablutions done. Oddly, I had not used the yet, either.
I strayed off target and started adding some pet words to the list. I got carried away a smidge.
Suddenly, Carer Ejaz arrived, five hours later, and all of that time I had not added anything to the blog!
When I cottoned on to what I’d done and what I hadn’t.

I stopped and went to make my first mug of tea of the day. And the phone rang. The nurse will not be coming today after all.

Ejaz came for his next call. All I’d managed to do was finish yesterday’s blog and post it. Although that’s not strictly true. Famous Inchie words here… I forgot to post it, sent out the posted today emails, and thankfully, dear Jenny emailed me to tell me nothing was showing on the blog – of course, I remembered I’d not posted it then, so I posted it. Jenny emailed back asking for the brand of the TV remote. She was going to loan it to me if it worked on my TV, bless her. I replied, thanking her. She’s been a treasure to me, and is not very well herself. 💕Lost the plot again there, thanks, Jenny.
Ejaz rang Virgin Media for me about getting a new TV remote. What a farce!
In the first two tries, he got an AI-recorded press for this and that answer, but was not put through to a real human. He got someone the third time who put him through to where he needed to go. We thought.
Then confusion reigned, but I’ll just say what I am sure happened…

We had the account number, the order number and the password that I’d written on the paperwork when I was conned into buying the package. Then the man asked for my memorable word! I can’t remember having given one. Said he would send an email through, and it came. Then a second one was sent, but we didn’t receive it. Still haven’t.
Ejaz was running late and had to give up.
Liberty Global paid $23.3 billion (or £15 billion) for Virgin Media. And set about destroying its reputation. They either own or have shares in:
Virgin Media, O2 (50% ownership), Telenet, and VodafoneZiggo (50% ownership). It also holds a 9.9% shareholding in ITV plc and a 17% ownership stake in Canal+ Poland, and other stakes in Europe.
But can you talk to them without being offered a new deal or a special offer? Without battling your way through a series of robots? No!
If you could cancel your contract, you would – but you can’t without getting a phenomenally high-cost leaving fee charge, and Liberty Global-owned Virgin Media scripted misleading verbal hogwash.
A perfect show of Oligarchism at its worst!
When Liberty Global first bought Virgin, all the telecom operators were told not to mention Liberty Global or to admit they owned the company! This fact was in the news from an operator who was dismissed and sued by the company. Oligarchy at its worst! (Or the best if you are one)
So glad I got that off my chest.
Of course, nothing has been sorted!

Meal of the day time.

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Cheers Each!
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TTFN EACH