Inchy Cartoon

Inchie: Friday 31th July 2026

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Friday 31st July 2026
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A Little Moan & groan to start… Sorry.
I/ve had a few days of bad depression; I sometimes get to the stage when I lose interest and despise myself for doing so. Take it as it comes. But not this week.
My invented helper, , has not visited for ages. Although maybe I created him to help me cope? This indicated to me that I have lost interest in all my failings, flundering and fearsome unsolvable problems. I can go on as long as there is money to pay my direct debits… Little things like electricity, rent, etc. Then what?
My problems in tackling problems are not something I want. The Dementia is getting worse; no question. I cannot do something one day and can the next. Obviously there is more to the effects. Like remembering what has and hasn’t been done. Many folk in my position have these and other problems to cope with. How come this morning I can write things like this? Yesterday, another example, both bad days for depression?
I loathe myself for dropping, walking into things, forgetting things, but most of all, my inability to get to the bank to sort money out. If I go, it will cost a fortune that I don’t have; my balance is that low. Taxis & Carers to go with me, likely to be £60, based on what I have to pay for taxis to and from the QMC-A&E when the Catheter blocks. (Why they sent me to A&E is unknown.) The nurse told me to get a taxi as it would be quicker than an “ambulance.” And classed as a medical emergency. I arrived at A&E, and it took 4 hours to be seen. During which, the Catheter remained painful and blocked;  Then he could not get the tube back in on two tries, went to another office, and it took that man twice to fit it in. I’m missing chunks out from here on, after seeing the waffle I’ve already put on.
Last time I went, the taxi there cost more than usual, and I did not have enough to get one back. I got no guides or facts given about frequencies of changes. Or how to undo and refit the tube collection array on my leg. The only thing said was: do not let the array fall loose! It fell off the following morning.
I’m due a visit to the Nuthall Hospital in August. But will not be able to take a Carer to answer questions. Hopefully I can get a lift from Easy Link, if their bus does not break down again like last time. 

So, you see here approx’ 15% of my problems. Huh!
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I gorrup at 06:40; (depressed without cause) The first thing I noticed was the night bag on the floor, in the same position it was when I got my head down. I cannot recall being woken up overnight. No acidy tastes in my throat, so no seizures had. Yet I felt so tired and worn out!
There was plenty of urine in the bag as well. I got the BP tackle out and left the night bag on the recliner, and did the BP tests. BP high; BP was 170/70, pulse 68, Temp 35.5, blood 95 high, 78 low. Had it much worse these last three weeks. I think this is why Matron took a photograph of the Excel recording sheet with her.
Ah, Matron, my only hope to get in a home.
Matron said that it is getting harder to find space.
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A most rapid sudden requirement for the toilet arrived. Nothing new about this, this last week. I think it was a fourth first-morning visit on the trot, and I barely got there in time; my excrement suits itself when it wants to evacuate. A Trotsky Terence job again.
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I emptied the night bag and returned to the recliner to record the reading. You’ll notice in the photo above that the urine in it was bright and orangy. Minutes later as urine began to flow… Scarily, it was mostly blood!
That got me worrying. The very thought of going to the damned uncaring QMC A&E deepened my depression and frustration. Not to mention the £30 or so that would be needed to get there and back, for the taxis.
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I started to get things ready, paper towels and glasses put in the three-wheeled walker as I got it from the balcony. Got the trousers and jumper out. Could not get the shoes on, but managed to get a pair of slippers on. I was going to ring DG. Realising the Carer’s due around 0800hrs, and decided to wait for him so he could get my proper outside shoes on for my feet, and help with the trousers. 
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I got a giant potato in the crock-out while waiting, and cleaned up a bit, and did the teggies. When I got back to the room, I noticed the urine was now much lighter and much less bloody. Another flipping mystery! But the joy of not having to go to the A&E briefly visited me. Great!
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0800hrs, the Carer arrived. I did not mention the blood problem for fear he would ring for an ambulance.
Medications: Porphyrin pain in the shoulder and neck.
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I got today’s grusone daily Ode created; I’d sunk back down again in spirits, self-pity had to be avoided.
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Then caught up with finishing yesterday’s post. But throughout the day, my concentration was once again cognitively weak. Easily sidetracked, disoriented, warped at times. None of these was helped with the eyesight getting worse. I’ll be glad to get one of the eyes done; when? No idea, waiting for the summoning appointment to arrive. My mind was the second concern today. 
The Bank situation being the top one.
I’m missing .
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Checked the overcooked potato in the crockpot. I overcooked it a little when I say little… I mean a lot. Tsk!
It’ll have to be eaten mashed.
Or maybe roasted slices?
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I went onto the balcony; the heat hit me when I opened the door to take some cloud and sky shots. No signs of rain amongst them today.
The floor greenery is going yellow and brown out there.
Still look beautiful up in the sky though. 
But the lack of rain and too much heat is destroying the greenery all around. 
The end of the car park, which usually had wet mud slides from the Woodthorpe Park behind us, looked bone-dry. The lawn bit is now 80% destroyed. Sad! I imagine the wildfires may spread to more areas when this cooler spell returns to hot weather.  
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Chicken sausages, boiled, sliced and then baked potatoes; with Teriyaki sauce. Tomatoes and some raw garden peas.
Taste Rating: 7/10.
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Short but Welcome!
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Inchie Today: Thursday 30th July 2026

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UK’s Latest Flare-Up
Newest outbreak: An area of about 600m by 200m (1,968ft by 656ft) was alight in Abbot’s Wood
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Thursday 30th July 2026
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06:10hrs, almost an : As I blurbed back into faux-life. To the sound and sensation of what felt like a bubbling evacuation doing its best to escape. Although this was a semi-panic moment, I recognised the foul acidic after-seizure tasting reflux on its way up through my throat, mouth and nasals. Meaning my balance was not so good, but I used all speed available to get up and hasten to the wet room. Before I’d left the room, I realised that the evacuation was gaining impetus, and an aroma, if that’s the word, escaped and permeated the entire flat. Most fortunately, the WC door was only about five paces from where I stood. Which equates to about ten of my shuffles. I was certain sure that I did not tear my protection pants down in time as the flood, nae, torrent began. Once it had finished, I nervously checked the state of the PPs. Fabulous! All was white! Can’t I say the same for the Porcelain? This fortune seemed to ease the depths of my depression; I liked it!
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I took off and emptied the nocturnal night bag, cleaned the room’s furniture. Then had a wash, shave, and was about to clean my teeth, and the intercom rang out. I got to the panel, but it had gone wonky again: no sound, but it showed the view for a second. It was a food delivery.
My depression sank again. Why the Hell, how the Hell, did I order food again? I think I may have made the order for next week; later, I found it recorded for next Thursday on my calendar. I tried to blame it on my Arithmaphobia, the Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, Toothache Tiffany, Fractured Knee Frank, Arthur Itis, anything but myself. I lost the plot there again. 
I had to get a dressing gown on quickly, to get down to let him in. But, no, by the time I got to the lift, the driver was getting out-of-it. A sociable chap. When I mentioned I ordered for the wrong week, he told me I’d be surprised by the number of times that older people have told him the same thing. Which is basically the same as the Iceland driver told me two weeks ago.
There’s a moral here. Somewhere?
He helped me get the food into my carriers. Then asked me to amend my telephone number on the J Sainsbury site; he tried to phone me earlier, and the number JS gave him was not recognised. Also, next time you get the day wrong, or forget it, or are unprepared, I can call. Hehe!
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I got the food away, and hoovered the flat. Then I emptied all the waste bins into one big one. In what turned into a vain hope, that the Carer would trip over it and take it to the waste disposal tunnel. Hahaha! 
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I tried to get my slippers and protection pants on. Coped with the PPs, but the slippers were too painful.
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♬ Oh, Susana ♬ chimed from the doorbell; in walked a Carer. Not even noticing the waste bag. Med’s issued.
He took this shot of my extremely long-nailed, painful, Raynaud’s phenomenon-ridden toes. But the legs and feet have lost all their swelling. He is doing a long visit at noon. I asked him to replace the day Catheter bag. He still thinks it is two-week changes.
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I got on the computer and swiftly got lost with what I was doing, done or going to do. Thus, three hours later when the Carer returned, I’d only just updated yesterday’s blog. 
I asked him again if he would go shopping with me. No answer. So I pointed out he refused to yesterday, saying he’s going tomorrow. I had to convince him, and showed him the vegetable stew I’d been making. How can I have a vegetable stew without potatoes? He scowled a little, but I put pressure on him and by the time he’d dressed me and we got to the bus stop, he was back to normal. Sat on the bench with his mobile out.
We were soon in Sherwood, and walking up Mansfield Road towards Ozan store, Carer told me we must hurry. I said I’m doing my best, and gave him an Inchie stare-glare! When we arrived at the store, he’d mellowed and took an interest and helped me get a selection of foods. We got some Soda water, Hungarian. Couldn’t find the French cheese I got last week, but he chose one for me from the other blue-veined cheeses. We investigated their wonderful deli-meats counter; they had none of the pork I wanted, so the Carer took me to the prepacked meats and found some smoked belly pork that tickled my fancy. The veg they had was not fresh, but I got a carrot and a bag of potatoes, the best of a bad batch, with help from the Carer. I also got a mini-sized thick-coated lemon madeira cake, well, two of them. One left now.
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Paid up, and back up to the bus stop. Carer sat down on the floor near the bus stop; due in 18 mins and back on his mobile. I kept talking to him, which was not appreciated. So rabbited on even more. Hehehe!
Back to the flats, and the lad seemed to cheer up a smidgeon. Hobbled through the three flat block sections, and in the lift back up to my cell.
Carer got his coat on. I said farewell; he said, Arnie-like, I’ll be back. Haha!
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I added some carrot, sliced very thin so it would cook quicker. After all that, I cut up spuds thin again. Cut some more yellow tomatoes, onion, water chestnuts, sweetcorn, chestnut mushrooms, left on a low light.
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Back to the computer, still struggling to concentrate. Jenny’s hubby, Frank, came in with dried laundry for me. So kind of him. Bless him.
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Carer came for the 16:00hr call. Medications issued.
I was feeling drained, and my eyes were worse than ever. (Cataract). I have to keep trying on and changing to a pair that might be easier.
It’s been around erm… I believe it was April when I went for the preop checks, when I had a seizure. and got another last week. It’s been a long time, and I’ve got to wait again now for the operation, well, lasering. Jenny had a similar kerfuffle; she was telling me. When she finally got to have the operation, they decided not to do it! Poor Jenny! 
I struggle with seeing the keyboard, especially worse in the afternoons and evenings.
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The vegetable stew/soup was served up; not a lot. Much of it seemed to have gone and evaporated? What did I do wrong in the cooking process? No idea! However, it tasted rather good. Taste Rating: 8.8/10.
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Carer Mirza did the last call, and very Welcome. The lad is a Gem. I was so tired. I still hope for a miracle, and Mirza & Ejaz can start visiting me again. But, with me deciding to try and cut out the long visits done by the uncaring young bully-boys, I’ll stand no chance now.
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TTFN, Keep safe, and Good Luck!
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Inchie: Tuesday 28th July 2026

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My last photographic adventure,
I thought I’d caught an alien invader.
Come to see Europe’s raging wildfire?
I had a minutes-worth of Ataxia,
Did they bring weapons, armamentaria?
“‘Twas the light bulb’s reflection, “I get dafter!
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Last night’s meal left me with digestion,
How did it taste? A Good question,
My rating was 3.5 out of 10!
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TUESDAY 28th JULY 2025
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06:30hrs: Bounced out of bed, removing the night pouch as I jumped over the wheelchair and did a few minutes of shadow boxing, as I hummed the National Anthem.
A hundred or so press-ups later, then some squats and toe touchings, and I needed the Porcelain Throne…
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Alright, I’ll start again then…
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I begrudgingly woke up with bladder pains of the flowback nature. My immediate thought was: Shit! I’ll have to get a taxi to the QMC A&E now. Naked, I instantly started finding problems before checking first. 
Another £30+ in taxi fares, then a wait of four-and-a-half hours like last time, waiting to be seen. Blood and urine bursting out through the fungal lesions on my sadly shrinking minuscule, battered mini-pinkie… The embarrassment, frustrations, and a mega-depression to cope with…, then realised there was nobody to help me get dressed! I’d have to go with the clothes in the walker-trolley, and a dressing gown on. 
I checked the night bag to find I’d left the smaller day bag on overnight! That was the problem giving me the backflow to the kidneys. I emptied it straight away, and slowly, after emptying & taking an Oxycodone.
I noticed my eyesight was much worse this morning, put oil in the ears, and drops in the eyes.
Then all the other unsettled, unsorted, not solved issues came flooding in. Oligarchal British Gas & Virgin Media. CorelDraw, the bank farce, Neurology, EENT, Nutall Hospital… on and on these worries worried me. 
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Some bother with the Carer this morning. I was in a right bad, gruff mood, and I kept finding things for him to do each time he sat in the recliner to use his mobile. I told him yesterday that we would go down on his longer call to get the keyboard I can see. He went through each of the clapped-out keyboards I had and found one that had packed up yesterday. Got it going, but it is still too much hard work seeing it in such a worse state.
I suggested we go to the computer shop to get a replacement; then he told me the man rang him and said he had no lit-up keyboards in stock. Doubts showed their faces, but I said we would go to the shop tomorrow. Then get some spuds, then call at the opticians to explain that I had a seizure at the pre-op meeting at the EENT, and had to wait six weeks to get another appointment; that was for two weeks later! Then we can catch a bus outside the opticians back to the flat. If I have time, he said.   
I got him to mop the kitchen floor; it needs it nearly every day, with me being barefoot. Got him to clean between the fridge door; it was filthy. He returned to his mobile in my recliner. I asked him to check the dates on some food in a box behind the chair. Five minutes later, he was back sitting on the recliner, mobile recording.
I asked him to clean between the cupboards in the kitchen. But he just watched me do them instead. I did a decent job too. Then realised it was me who did them. I asked him to sort the dates in the fridge, and he said, “I’ve done enough now”!
So, I was busier than before he came on his second hour-long visit. Which meant that when he arrived for the 16:00hr medicine call, I’d barely started this blog!
I used to love doing the blog. I was so weary, foofy-eyed, and frustrated that I let him do his usual: more time spent on his phone than doing anything.
Which tempts me to accept the offer from the lady to be Carer for me, and get rid of the pathetic young Carer I’m stuck with. No problems with Misra, but he calls on me less often, and Carer Ejaz doesn’t call at all now.
I still sense an ulterior or hidden truth about the way I’m being treated. Shame.
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Sister Jane rang me, but I was at my lowest ebb in years at the time. I may have been less than appreciative, forcing a thanks for calling as I put down the phone.
Feeling ashamed and guilty.
The last time my balance was as low as this,
would be around about 1966.
I can’t write anymore.
I’m a gibbering wreck.
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I’m hoping that Carer Mirza comes tonight.
He did not come; another vote in favour of
getting rid of the Carers altogether.
Without the help of Mirza & Ejaz,
it’s just not working. I cannot see it working, and I cannot afford it. I need intervention from a safe source, PLEASE!
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Carer in other room as I prepped the meal.
Mizra would help me when using knives, knowing I drop and lose grip on things later in the evenings.

Dropped the mug Jenny gave me last time I broke one, grabbed at it and clouted my knuckles on the counter edge and missed the mug, which shattered on the floor. Carer appeared and got the mess cleared for me.
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I wondered for a moment if my plea to go into a home is proceeding or has been rejected? No communication re the situation. But with the crisis in Social Care and the NHS, I can understand if it is being refused.
But I can’t go on much longer financially, or emotionally, with the cost of the Carers, and the bank statements not being looked at yet, weeks after they arrived and I informed the relevant people. The Warden and the NCC Procurement. No communication re the situation.
Understandably, methinks, but it still makes one think about an existence amidst billions, and feeling useless, pathetic and abandoned.
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Sourdough breag, bacon, fresh peas,
potato Curlies. I ate the lot!
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Inchie Today: Sunday 26th April 2026

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After washing the pots from last night’s meal, I dropped the cutlery and cut my finger as I retrieved them. I was so down, it didn’t even bother me. Took this snap later.
Got an ice cream from the freezer, settled into 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. My aim was to eat the ice cream cone while watching some recorded episodes of ‘Heartbeat’. This didn’t work out, fancy that!
I put down the ice cream cone to investigate why the TV was informing me there was No Internet Link, or something like that. HUH! Could I find the Virgin Media remote control that I’d used five minutes earlier to turn on the television? NO!
Another of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, and spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Depressing Darius, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete. The Catheter threatening to block, causing a mega-painful flowback, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, the damned seizures, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, and logicality were already on the wane. I searched the room; it had to be in here somewhere! Surely to Heaven? Not in the chair. Not on the floor. Not underneath the chair, cupboard bed or on the Carers’ table? No. I looked in the wet room? No. The kitchenette? No. But it was a good thing I checked in there. I’d left the hot tap (faucet) running. Cleaned up the mess. Then I even looked in the hallway for the remote control. No!
Back to the front room, and saw it straight away!
It was on the cabinet with the TV on it!
My spirits were sinking, but I was so glad I found it. But it proved of little help in my getting the damned thing to work. I got the computer back on, and that was working okay. Fiddled with plugs and sockets to make sure they were all connected. Tried turning the box off then back on again. I’d not yet got the night Catheter on, and the day one was getting full, so I emptied it. Recorded the colour and amount, emptied it in the toilet, returned and gave up with the TV. I plopped down on the recliner to take the slippers off… squashing the now melted ice cream with my bum as I did so. I swore a fair bit, then got the cloths to dry things up. I gave up the search. I climbed into the hospital bed, still swearing and cursing at my lousy luck!
I was amazed when, within a minute at most, sweet Morpheus welcomed me.
Story to be finalised later.
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SUNDAY 26th JULY 2026
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0620hrs; I stirred back into imitation-life, almost falling, getting myself out of bed, to hasten to the wet room and Porcelain Throne. Another Constipation Conrad affair. Causing some bleeding from
Cleaned things up, and medicated the rear end. Then thought I heard voices?
I checked the front door in case someone wanted entry; nobody there, but still I could hear voices nearby?
I soon realised they were from the front room, and thought the Carer may have arrived early, walked into the room, and Another miracle: I found that the TV was on! A Sherlock Holmes Mode was engaged; to try to work out what had gone on, and was going on! I did my best to work it out logically. To put the TV on, I have to press the remote control each time. I was in bed… Ah, I rummaged through the bedding and found it. Leaving another puzzle to be sorted. I think, erm… How, when using it for the first time, did I manage to transport it to the bed, when I did not find it or go near the bed after losing it? I think I’ve confused myself now.
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Had a quick wash, and took two photographs of the amazing sky and the clouds on offer from the kitchenette window, then went back with the remote to see if the TV would come back on again.
Well, it did, but the screen flickers a bit and I still can’t get on to watch any prerecorded stuff that I’ve saved to watch. Tut!
The computer farce, £850 plus fitting. British Gas, increased payment to nearly £300 a month. The Bank demands that I’ve got to go see them, and that would cost me dosh for a Carer to go with me. They must know my financial situation… Then again, I can’t get on their site; they have the wrong telephone number and the wrong email address. But they use the right one with the statement totals? I could lose it altogether.
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I’m feeling bad this morning, but with a twinge of accepting that things are not going to get any better. Where can I get help from?
Someone, not a Carer for Heaven’s sake, to go with me to the Bank. Advise me on how to cancel standing orders I know nothing about.
Finish with the Carers; I’m simply running out of money. And it’s not working at all; now they have taken Ejaz and Mirza off me. I hope to get a cleaner to replace them, to do the laundry, and not have any Carers call at all.
I’ll need help with the dosages and medications, of course, before they are got rid of.
That way, hopefully I’ll be paying a lot less for the cleaner, and I should be able to survive financially.
Need help to sort things out, of course.
A home seems a great idea, but I don’t think it is on the cards now. Haven’t heard anything about it.
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Gawd, I’m feeling even lower now. And feeling a chunk pathetic, to say the least.
The BP readings are depressing as well.
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The bikkies My Angel Jenny sent for me were put in a bikkie jar all themselves.
The Carer arrived, ‘Leave-it-Stewart’ this time.
I can’t help this sinking sensation and feeling. Worried.
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Second caller, Ahram arrived.
I searched for some nocturnal Catheter pouches as we only had a few left under the Carers’ table now. I found a bag after a lengthy deep search. As you can see in the photo above, another thing to worry about. Can you see how much narrower the new tube on the top is compared to the usual one? And the sealing around the release valve looks likely to come apart before the urine flows in. Carer Ahram offered to ring them about it on Wednesday.
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I went into the wet room with a view to getting a shave and wash. guess what?
I’d left that sink’s tap running this time. So, shaving & washing are off the menu.
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TTFN

Inchie Today: Thurs/Fri 23/24th July 2025: Bad days, especially vague Friday

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THURSDAY 23 JULY 2026
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FRIDAY 24 JULY 2026
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Apart from when I woke up midst having my stroke, this was the worst, foggiest, most out-of-it one!
I had just had a seizure as the Carer arrived. I was practically unresponsive, I think, and went into, I believe, two other seizures while the Carer was giving me medications. I assumed this by finding the tablets spewed out in the waste bin later.
I thought he was still here, and called to him, albeit in a garbled way; confusion reigned. He had gone.
I’d not had the back, neck, shoulder or knees Phorpained-gelled. The day protection pants had not been put on. The slippers not put on. I found the night pouch on the floor, so that had not been emptied, just taken off. However, the colour and quantity had been put on the notepad?
To be fair, the Carer must have been almost as confused as I was. I thought he may have pressed the alarm to NCC Control for help. But none came.
I was being so vague for his entire half-hour visit. This is not a definitive description, but the best record I could muster. I’m still not with it properly two hours after waking up. I can’t recall having short repeat seizures as often as this before.
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Talk about falling to sleep unexpectedly!
I visited the Porcelain Throne, a Constipation Conrad affair. So painful trying to force it along. Yet somehow or other, I managed to fall asleep! And, for about fifteen minutes! Waking up, with no progress in the evacuation stakes. No acidity tastes, so it wasn’t a seizure. I gave up trying. I then made a bottle of water from the fridge, flavoured it a little with grapefruit, and made a start on this blog.
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I’m not clearing the brain fog very well, and wondered how the Carer has disappeared without me knowing he’d gone. He must have been baffled himself, to have missed all the treatments. Mind you, would I have been capable of getting the togs off for the treatments? Mmm!
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Moved on to try and get the daily Ode done.
Concentration was at a minimum. But I pressed on, and got it finished and ready to be converted to JPEG, then snipped into MS Word.
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Carer ‘Leave-it-there’ Andrew arrived on the midday call.
Do you like his nickname? I’ll explain: each time he does some medicationalisationing, he leaves the pot, Germoloid or Germaline tubes. Feet & legs foam spray, Phorpain tube when he does the shoulders, back, knees and neck where he put them on. Then we have a job to find them next time he calls. He also has a habit of leaving the waste bags where they are. I started putting the three into the large kitchen one on the kitchen door, but he just ignored that one altogether. Then I moved it each morning into the front room; he’s bound to see it and take it from there? No, he leaves it where it is, like he did this morning. Hence, Carer ‘Leave-it-there’ Andrew.
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Hallo! Movements from the innards, I think things are moving. Then I moved in the direction of the wet room, got in, got settled, and realised this was going to be a long, painful and bloody battle urging on the what felt like concrete into an evacational position. Still, apart from the blood, little cleaning was needed.
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Went into a depression. Still in it today, Sunday.
Sorry, but no one to talk to about it.
Frustrated, the world goes on, but not I.
This is a terrible thing, not socialising.
Carers who just don’t realise my problems.
My differing responses to changes in pain, and head confusions changing daily. I find myself being jealous of folk who can cope, feeling sure they…
I hope to pull out-of-it.

Cheers. 🤎🫰🏻 
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Inchie Wed 22 July: Off to the EENY for Cataract Preppimg

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

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Inchies Hospital Day Blog
Wednesday 22nd July 2026
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Might be short, timewise, medical limitations, and the cost of the bloody taxis might bankrupt me. “Tsk!”
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Another broken sleep pattern. I rose, jumped out of the bed, did a double somersault over 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. Popped out onto the balcony and sang a good morning yodel to the local neighbours, and did 200 naked press-ups…
All right, I know, I know. I’ll start again then.
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I woke at 05:15hrs, and stayed there, dejected, morose, and stayed in the same position, physically, but under the strain of mental turmoil and depression, for an hour or so. Thus, a normal awakening.
Again, I’d not put the night pouch on last night. It was so blown up I expected it to burst, but it didn’t. Was my luck changing? Hahaha! What a daft thought!
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I measured the jug of urine, and guessed the colour, and hastened, albeit it more of a hobbled-swift-limp, to the Porcelain Throne. This evacuation was in much more of a Constipation Conrad style, a rarity of late. Much to the displeasure of my haemorrhoids. Little cleaning up was needed, & no escpages. Which was a nice change
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Of to check if I’d left anything on the cooker, left the fridge or freezer doors open, or taps left running. Then took the potatoes from the pan, ran cold water on them and threw them away. Krangleturds! Then washed last night’s pots I’d left soaking in the sink.
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My mind semi-engaged, as I remembered this was the hospital day, and faux-planned what needed doing in preparation. Which, as usual, I abandoned and started doing something else. This time I strayed off the plot, and did the Health checks. And was pleasantly surprised to see (both of the day were) figures in just High. 
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I got the computer on, and realised I’d not made the list of things to do and take with me to the hospital. But got sidetracked in my mission, as Carer Akram arrived.
He noticed a fresh bruise on mt forehead. He took a snap of it with my camera. I could not see a bruise. Akram is a good listener and remembers things that I ask him to do, MedPhorpainand started without any asking or prompting. He Phorpained my back, neck, and shoulders after using the remover spray.
Issued the medications. I forgot to ask him to have the Catheter bag changed. 
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I spent a while making a list of things to do in preparation of the hospital visit, what to take with me. Mizra reminded me to take the paperwork last night, and put it into the waker-trolley for me in a hard envelope, bless him. The camera was too big to carry. A Kodak, and an old Kodak, so it is rather bulky and heavy.
Hearing aid in the tab-holes with new batteries, and both of my prescription glasses. Added the bus pass if needed, and enough money for the taxi each way.
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When the next Carer arrived, he thought that there would be no Escort coming. Then I got an email saying the Easy-Link lift to go to the QMC EENT had been cancelled due to the bus breaking down.
This brought on anger, as my bad luck gets more frequent every day! A deep depression, and fear about not having enough cash to pay both ways for taxis!
With a chance of no Escort as well, I was ready to call it a day. But I think a Carer said it was arranged, but it won’t be me… I clung to the hope.
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I turned off the computer, and pressed on with a stand-up wash, shave and teggie-cleaning in the wet room.
With a most disturbing uncertainty.
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As I washed and shaved, the telephone chirped into life. 
I got to the landline, and it was the Doctor’s surgery receptionist, giving me the INR test results.
I returned to the wet room to find I’d left the hot tap running and now, potentially had the cleanest wet room floor than ever before. I’d just put soap powder and bleach in the sink to soak the flannels, then the water spilt over onto the deck!
As I was mopping it up, I knocked a full kitchen roll into the flood. Without thinking, my mind at this point was engaged with self-pity… I bent down to retrieve it, and hit my head on the edge of the sink. Then the intercom
 chimed up. No video on the screen, just black. I pressed the open door button, and returned to the wet room and hastily got some more water to go down the drain hole.
Whoever it was on the intercom had not arrived yet. 
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PREPARING, TRAVELLING TO,
TREATMENT AND RETURNING
What a wonderful pleasure; it was Carer Ejaz who arrived to be mt escort to the hospital! I could not help myself and hugged him as he entered the room. Bad news about having to get taxis both ways, but he was such a help in getting me ready, and a comfort. He went through the list and made sure I’d got everything needed for the trip. Ordered a taxi and got me dressed; I gave Ejaz all the cash I had to sort paying the drivers with. And down to the main foyer in plenty of time to meet the cabbie. Helped me into the car, but the trolley walker collapsed in the boot, and we were off on our way to the hospital.  
The driver got us there in plenty of time. But by the time he’d struggled to get somewhere to park and drop us off, things were a little tight. £8.90, not bad that. I went in; no one was on the reception desk. Ejaz asked someone where we should be, and we were sent to the lifts. Once we got there, I recognised the layout from my last visit. We signed in and sat down waiting to be called in.
A few minutes later, a lady came and called out my name, and we followed her to a treatment room. I thought she looked like the lady who was treating me when I had the seizure. When we got in the room, I recognised her as the same lady. She was so understanding and patient with things and me, Bless Her.🌸🪷
A long session of eye-testing and Q&As followed. She was understanding of my struggle to get into position on the viewer, with pain from arthritis in my neck and shoulder. Never showing any sign of frustration. Nine different tests were done on each eye. Then the wall chart readings through different holed cards, and with various other patterns, were done. At this stage, she kindly explained the result so far. This was prompted by my Ejaz saying I thought I’d got Cataract in the left (far worse vision than the right one), and Glaucoma in the left eye. 
I was wrong. I’d got Cataract in both eyes. The floaters had increased greatly in the left eye, and were starting in the right one. Then she explained how serious it was, much worse than they were in her tests months ago when I had the seizure. That stopped the proceedings as she thought I was having a heart attack, and she called the CAT team, and I was kept in cardiac overnight. 
I did mention that when I’d been home for a few days, I was not sure if I’d been fully assessed or not. I called the hospital and asked if I needed to come in again, or await further tests. I was told, “They do know what they are doing”, and the phone died. She seemed concerned about this, and it prompted an apology for it taking them so long- months- to get in touch with me.
Then a lady said I need further tests in the scan room, for further examinations to clarify her own findings. She led us back to the waiting area, where I found a slightly higher chair to sit on as we waited.
I can’t recall the name of these scans, but they were better than a kaleidoscope, and much brighter.
On both eyes, she took several different scans. I was struggling to keep perfectly still, and she had to do a few again. But she was patient with me, and talked throughout, explaining what she was testing and what she was testing. But even with the hearing aids, I didn’t realise this; Ejaz told me afterwards. 
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Then all done, the first lady collected us, and we went back to the first treatment room. One more test on both, for clarification with scans.
Then, some eye drops were put in. I was given two double-sided A4 print-outs, with tips and procedures to be followed, and follow-up guidance. The print was so tiny, minuscule! She recommended that I get someone to read it to me. Had she noticed the hearing aids I was wearing?
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I was hoping to get the tram & bus back home was we left for the exit; both free with my passes. But no, Ejaz (not his fault) ordered a taxi, as he had to get me home quickly, as he had his regular client to visit. My immediate thought was, why am I no longer a regular with Ejaz? I sense some ulterior motive for this. Thus my £39 in the morning dwindled to £3.45 by the time we got back to the flat.
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Well, gone midnight now, I’m so weary. I’ll try to make a meal up, and myself get to bed. Not that I anticipate getting much sleep. So many nights of broken sleep, with the mind always rattling away reminding me of my multitude of unresolved problems,
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TASTE RATING: 7.1/10
Knocked ice off of individual clunks of out-of-date chips from the oven. They were not as good-tasting as anticipated. But the no-butter buttered bread rolls, and last of the Roquefort cheese? Delicious!
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🌹🌺🌷TTFN🌷🌺🌹
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Inchie Today: Mon/Tue 6-7th July 2026 Busy Day

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INCHIE: MON/TUES 6/7 JULY 2026
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MONDAY
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Needless to say, I stayed up all night to watch Mexico v England in the early hours of the World Cup.
A Magnificent Performance
Just Thought I’d Mention It!
I soon fell asleep, happily and contentedly, and woke up an hour later with a warm, proud sensation within.
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And struggle to free myself from the clutches of the second-hand shop-bought ten years ago, £300, c1966, discomfiting, alarmingly beige-coloured, virus-breeding, acne-prompting, rickety, crumb-containing, TV-remote-hiding, non-working recliner off to the Porcelain Throne. This evacuation was all over within, at most, about 30 seconds. Whoosh!
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Got the computer on, then the Carer arrived, as I was struggling with the MS Snip doing odd things as I was trying to convert the Ode to a picture. He clicked on a red spot on top of the panel, and the mistakenly taken video disappeared. Thanked him. Medications issued. Phorpain gelling was asked for and done on the shoulder and back.
No breakfast, tea, or help with washing was offered to me. I asked him to take the bin bag down with him. He decided not to listen to my questions about my appointment problems. In fact, I took a photo of the chair, which he had turned away from me, after he had gone.
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I pressed on with the Sunday blog update, finished it, and posted it to WordPress.
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I limpingly hobbled to the kitchen to put the kettle on.
Not a hard job? It was for Inchie! His poor old left knee gave way, and he fell forwards, landing on the radiator and window ledge. Knocking a large jar of Tiryaki sauce over the floor, which shattered, spreading the contents around. My first thought was to call for help. But I was not up to much this morning and got irritable with myself for being the whimp I am. Pleased to have found the brush and dustpan last Saturday, I went to the wet room to collect them. But they were not in there. Back to the kitchen to search, without any luck. In the front room and balcony, again fruitlessly. The unused rubbish room, no luck. Back to the kitchen. Which incidentally stunk of Tiryaki by now, nice Aroma though. I looked in all the places I thought it was possible to have put the brush & dustpan, getting annoyed a smidge with myself now. Back in the wet room, while looking, I set up the speedmop for later. Finally, on the verge of giving up finding them, I closed the open door in case any sauce had intruded… There were the brush & dustpan! Once I saw them, I remembered putting them there. Tsk!
I forgot, I put a full roll of kitchen towels over the glass and food first. Now, I added some more to it. I used the picker-upperer to collect them and rubbed the floor a bit. A last with more paper towels, a spray of cleaner, and got them up again.
Then, I used the mop, all done without any bending. An iota of smugness crept into my psyche. I was so cuffed, I rang Jenny to tell her. (Daft as a brush, me!)
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I forgot to ask the Carer to put my slippers on my feet. Standing up, I felt a sting underfoot. I got the piece of glass out with the small picker-upperer, thus again avoiding any loss of balance from bending. Checked the scullery floor. It looked clean enough to me. Turning to leave, I knocked a box of soap powder off of the draining board, then I wondered where I’d left the brush and dustpan!
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I rang Mr Cervic – 0115 746 9309
To inform him of payback has not been received in the bank yet. Also, it is worth mentioning that the long calls from ICC have gradually stopped; until last week, they made none at all.
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Matron JACKIE ARRIVED
We spoke of my going into a home. Unfortunately, I’d just come out of a seizure when she arrived; I stuttered and forgot words, not certain of all we spoke of. But I sense I was telling her of all the visits and the failure to secure lifts for appointments. Showed her the letters mounting up that need guidance and form filling. Those are not being done since Carer Mizra & Ejaz stopped calling.
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DOCTORS SURGERY RANG
New Warfarin INR dosages.
M:1-TWThur:1½-F:1-ST-SUN;1½
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I’m running down now.
I found the Catheter tube on the night bag had sticky bits all the way through. I’m worried now!
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Going to get summat to eat, then watch TV.
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Mr Kervic didn’t ring back.
I’ve had enough now.
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The 3% turned out to be a false alarm.
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TUESDAY
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Reluctantly rose from the recliner at 07:00hrs, following hours of wakefulness, sort of praying for sleep. And fretting over the increasing number of unsolved problems, one after another. It was not will-power that got me up, but the need of the Porcelain Throne.
The evacuation was slow, but not in the least painful, and no bleeding. I removed the Catheter night pouch, and the Carer arrived.
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Being so concerned about getting an Escort and lift for tomorrow’s appointment, I asked him to please find out whether they are coming or not and let me know.
No response, other than a nod of the head. The lad then issued the medications. Pforpain gelled the shoulder and lower back. Got on his mobile to do his report. I disturbed him when the intercom rang, and the food order arrived.
I asked him to put the light stuff in the box and the heavier stuff in carrier bags. He had to go then. As he was leaving, I asked him again to confirm if a lift and a Carer were coming on Wednesday. Getting a nod in return, then a thumbs-up! I hope he can. Uncertainty, lack of communication, and doubts plague me.
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I got the bags emptied and food stored. But before continuing, I just have to say, in putting these things away, and I may have missed some off, for I forgot about, dropped so many of them. I got so angry with myself.
1) The pod pea bag, which was at the bottom of a carrier with cans on top, burst open when I grabbed it. Pod peas decorated the kitchenette floor. Collected and put in a basin, for shelling later.
2) Then, getting the few things that needed to go into the fridge, I dropped and trod on Jenny & Frank’s cream cakes. Arrrgh! Ruined and needed cleaning up.
3) Then knocked a bottle of spring water, which luckily… yes, luckily, did not burst open… 4) It just landed on my left foot! I just laughed it off. (Possible Fib Detected!)
5) The pot of potato salad was the next victim; this one did burst all over me, the shelf and the floor. It took me ages and a lot of self-lambasting to clean up.
6) The pork & pickle pork pies, which had obviously had a rough trip to get to the flat, and/or the Carer had also put at the bottom of a carrier, were all dislodged from their container compartments. I tried to jiggle them back in, and the top pastry fell off each one I touched.
I got the cleaning up sorted… dropping a few curse words I haven’t used in years. I got some spuds in the slow cooker and started to pod the peas.
7) My estimate for dropped peas and pods would be around 25. I’m getting so many more incidents lately; I must mention this if I do get to the Doctor’s appointment tomorrow. 
8) As I was retrieving them with the picker-upperer, I noticed the carrier was still on the floor; I had not put the things in the freezer yet, so I did. Not sure what happened when taking this snap on the left, I think and expect the camera to pack up again soon. I put the bread and cobs in, and this lot filled the fridge altogether. In fact, I had to take some old stuff out to make room. A large bag of out-of-date chips that had been in there since Adam was born had to go. But and however… The bag burst when I lost my grip again, when it hit the floor.  
9) This was a little more dangerous. As I got the paper towels again, some oil, presumably from the old chips, all but had me over as I slipped on the invisible oil. What did I hit as I grabbed for the counter? The poor left arthritic and fractured left knee!
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What with these dropsies, uncertainty about lifts and escorts to the five medical appointments I have on my calendar, and the farce with British Gas about the metre (they are really confusing me now; I need help), I hope the Social can assist me ASAP. It’s getting worse than ever as the list of unsolved problems grows each day. Dentist, lifts not forthcoming, uncertainty.
I really am getting in a big pickle. The eyes, hearing, brain (memory, Premorbid Cognitive Impairment), body, lack of confidence, nervousness, suspicious, dubious of ever being content again; or that the problems will ever get solved, the new One Stop Computer Shop bought computer will ever work right. I was warned about my memory and Peripheral Neuropathy getting worse. They have not been too good, but for the past two weeks, the degeneration has increased a fair bit. At least I am aware of the reasons. I anticipate things getting worse, and I will lose more cogniscence of mt surroundings. Luckily, I am old enough to not live long enough to suffer the full consequences. Hopefully.
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I went into the kitchen to take a better photo of the freezer, and took one of the fridge by mistake. Then as I moved to take one of the freezer again…

As I bent a little to get the right angle for the picture, my spectacles fell off.
They now have sellotape holding the left arm attached to the frame. Huh!
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When the midday Carer arrived, I was just making my first brew of tea, Glengettie for a day and a half. Honestly!
I managed one sup of it, and the Carer told me there is no lift arranged, and to get a taxi to the Doctor’s. Whether a Carer will be coming with me is uncertain. This is life for me nowadays. Full of uncertainty. Inconclusiveness, instability, doubtfulness, scepticism, and dubiety, 
Rounded off with my getting all angst and I didn’t drink my Glengettie! More money spent!
If I wasn’t told off for not taking a Carer, I wouldn’t bother. And if I do, it will be a Carer who does not know my history and will not understand them anyway. I love it when they say I must bring a relation or Carer who can answer questions if I am too out-of-it. Fed-Up Again!
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I asked the Carer to take some food down to the laundry room. The last few pot noodles I dared not eat after trying them again and enjoying one; the innards were not too keen, and the next morning, I think it was about 5 Trotsky Terence trips to the Porcelain Throne. Unfortunately, I also sent a loaf of bread and some short-dated fridge items for anyone to take. 
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Then a DPD delivery arrived. So glad it won’t arrive tomorrow when I will be out at the Doctor’s. Bit of fun here, if you don’t mind, folks. What do you think the carton contained from the list below?
A: Snuff
B: Pipe tobacco
C: Cigars & Cigarettes,
D: Two bottles of Champagne?
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My two thin nightshirts are being used as curtains to help block the sun a little and keep it from making it so hot in there. I was going to move them along with the sun, but decided not to. With my luck, I’d risk knocking over another bottle or jar, pickle, sauce or vinegar.
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Going to get a meal prepped and eaten now.
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By gum, that was good!
Ate it all bar one slice of the tomatoes; I dropped that on the floor, via my hand, bulging flabby stomach, testicles & knee, onto the mat.
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Two testing days. Carer asked ot help in the morning visits. To phone to track an order, help me get washed, shaved and clothed. Ejaz and Mirzra would have known what was needed. This lad cannot answer questions from the Doctor like Mirza did, cause he’s not aware of any medical changes taking place. Then ask him to order a taxi for us to go to the Doctor’s. Must check that I have enough money with me before leaving and prepare the walker. Can’t cope with the walker and stick.
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Not sure if there will be a blog on Wednesday.
EQ tells me all will not go very well tomorrow.
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Inchy Today: Mon/Tue 1/2nd June 2026 Fare Thee Well 🌸

/ Inchie / 11 Comments

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I see today more political baseness,
A lack of moral principles, sordidness,
Boastfulness, bluffness, & bluntness,
Bamboozlers, bankrollers, beguilers, belittlers,
More backstabbers, backhander, backsliders,
Churlishness, clandestineness, contemptuous,
Violence, slaughter, governmental bloodshedders,
 Deceptiveness, detestableness,
Can our rulers not see Earth’s finiteness?
In the citizenry, fear, contagious distress,
Hopes, needs, turning into illusoriness,
Proletariats, once. quite tenacious…
Exist, survive, but are trepidacious,
Who can we blame for this tragicalness?
My forecast may well not be the zaniest,
The end of days, of earthliness…
part of the real, inherent adscititious…
Earthlings will miss the end of the Universe…
As it implodes, collapses…
Well, that’s my synopsis!
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OLD CARTOONS
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Hope for the future…
To please, please I beg, mend my computer,
Help with the bank account dwindling disaster,
A miracle with my kidneys, & blocked Catheter…
Penal Fungal Cut, before they get painfuller,
To stop leaving the tap on & the cooker,
To stop taking tumbles, 
Slow down, to have fewer seizures,
These needs, how do I conjure?
I think life’s getting cruddier.
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On Tuesday, I can’t type in Notepad; it deletes letters after the ones I’m typing. CorelDraw is still not allowing me to import, export, or perform at least 18 other actions that are blacked out. The Computer warning beeps from the hard drive are back again. I’ve got the trots.

 TUESDAY: I am so frustrated. Can’t even open a new template. No reply from the calls and emails to the computer man for help. £850 quid plus fitting. He must be so busy. 

Hour extra visit: No body check, Catheter comfort check. No cleaning done. No mail help. No floors mopped, or food date checks. Bored on mobile. 

Frustrated, depressed, and have had enough!

This computer is the only thing that keeps me going. Now it doesn’t, though I believe it’s not my fault. Notebook, the internet, and the keyboard, I think, are all giving me problems typing. The internet keeps going down. No help.

Help is unavailable with the banking problems.

The promised help with getting the new wheelchair was promised in November last year. Bought six months ago, it had not been brought into a usable condition.

Oxicodone could be my way out?

Tried to ring 111 for mental help, I felt I needed it.
I rang 111, feeling I needed help, as I am having dark thoughts, and needed it.
The phone didn’t work. The Carer had knocked the 2nd unit off the hook while putting the Hoover away. I replaced it and rang 111. The very thought of going through the Robot options was making me feel worse. These are the reasons for my bank. Virgin and British Gas problems, which, along with the Computer ones and the Catheter ones, made me forget about it, and I rang off. I wish I’d stayed on now. Confused, fed-up, and no idea what to do.
Other than adopt my dark thoughts. If I don’t ring, I’ll get no help, but that leaves me where I started.

Fret not if I do get the courage, I’ll be depression, frustration and worry-free. I write this out of desperation, knowing I’m a coward and will surely suffer on longer.

Cheerio. Bless you all.

Inchie: Tuesday 19th May 2026 – A fall & A Flood

/ Inchie / 11 Comments

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The Ode explains my early-morning kerfuffle.
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We had not had time to properly clean the wet room. But my attention was on the flaming new computer mysteries with Corel Draw, the new complicated Note app, and my seemingly new to me (I’m fibbing, done it months now, even on the old keyboard) habit of hitting the wrong combinations of keys, and getting up so many baffling options to choose if I wish to continue using programs I’ve never heard of.
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Carer Rashid, then Dilan, then Mizra, then Carer Ejaz called today. Damned busy, so much that this is going to be another rushed, no-time-to-do-properly, blog.
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The second call was to Dilan. Who got the laundry started and called Jenny to let her know. Then I asked him and explained what I’d like done to finish the wet room cleaning.
He did a great job!
Hard to see the depth of or even the water…
You can see how it soaked the box of Dettol.
Later, Carer Dilan tackled it after taking the laundry down to the laundry and putting it in the washer. 
Cleaned up the stuff I’d dropped in the corner.
And behind the pipework.
Mats down, much betterer!
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Lovely view this afternoon.
I discovered a reason for my making so many errors of the computer, CorelDraw, MS Word, Excel and the blog.
I’d been looking at the ‘Cool’ battery clock calendar! This time, at a quarter to one PM, I had not updated the clock’s date for two days! Naturally, for me anyway, I swore at myself, added some locally used curses and insults, spat, and sulked for quite a while. Went to do what so many folks do, I made a brew of my favourite tea and got some biscuits out to dunk. They didn’t get dunked. I dropped the mug, and the handle came off. Undeterred, I made another brew of Glengettie with it. Feeling rather smug didn’t last long either; a hairline crack sent the freshly made tea spilling out, then the mug cracked and broke. Sending tea all over the counter, then down the cupboard doors below, decorating my Khagoule as it did so. 
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Two shots from the kitchenette window as I made a third mug of tea, Co-op 99 this time.
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The Carer took these two later.
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I partly made a meal, just some spuds to add to it. I haven’t got any fresh ones, so I opened the last tin.
Then I realised that only Asda, Iceland, Ocado, and Morrisons had rejected my sign-in to place an order. Because it was on the new computer. I half-heartedly tried J Sainsbury’s. And got in! Hopefully I’ll have bread, tomatoes, a few ready-made meals, bikkies, potatoes, veg and mushrooms in the morning.
Hopefully, (I did, but it was a terrible day).
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Inchie Today: Fri/Sat/Sunday 15>17th May 2026.

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

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FRIDAY
So many upsets and disappointments over the three days. But some sweet pleasantries, and even time to start catching up on this blog, on Sunday afternoon. My depression told me I did not need the memory note pad, as at the time I was so down, I threw them away.
I’m sorry I did that now.
Things will be missed and mixed up, no doubt.
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Morning bush flowers
Wonderful puffer clouds
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I had a terrible experience this morning. I can’t say anymore, yet. I don’t know why I told you. It will take time to sort out, then I can reveal all.
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I had to get up early and start getting things ready for the Audio visit. When Carer Mizra arrived, most things were done, but he had to call a taxi for us because he had arrived too late to take the bus. Glad we did, even though the roadworks took us all over the place, and the cost was close to all the money I had taken with me for two trips there and back. But the taxi driver let me in the front seat, and my legs were no bother, really. Until I got out-of-it. Hahaha! 
Things went fabulously well, to the Clinic, and even better inside. A nice young lady asked how I lost the hearing aids. I waffled on, getting all excited at someone showing such understanding and patience with my long, drawn-out patter. 
Told me I would not have to pay for replacements. Also, I will not have to return to the Clinic to collect them; they will mail them to me. 
She then did a hearing test on each ear and pointed out afterwards that it had been 16 years since I last had new hearing aids. The young lady then made inner ear moulds to get the size and fit right. Then, gave me some hearing aids to take with me, for free! 
Great! Thank You!
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We caught a bus home, not having enough dosh for a taxi. I had, but didn’t realise this until it was too late. One of the sillier points of Arithmaphobia!
I also forgot that I’d taken the camera with me until we had reached the bus stop on Market Street. (I think)
I took these two snaps.
We caught the bus and returned to the flat.
Mizra had to shoot off to his next job.
I dug into the biscuit barrels and made a brew of tea.
I was surprisingly very tired and fell asleep in 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.
Waking up to…
Take these snaps of the
Evening sky.
I was incapable of getting up. The earlier altercation was weighing on my mind, and I had to put up with
Then, kicked in, and all the while I worried over the dispute, lingered.
I made a meal of sorts.
Tasty enough, though.
I fell asleep where I was, Zzzz!
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A little out of sync here, sorry.
THE NEW COMPUTER ARRIVED
The computer man arrived with the new computer setup. Not the bandied about £350 mark, but it was now £850 quid. So tired, I was struggling to keep up with what he was doing and the advice he was giving.
He was patient with me. Nice chap. He spent hours getting it sorted out for me. Even put on the fonts I use. Hepta, Glutton & Aptos Square.
After Adam… Allan? Or Andy had gone, I was too tired to consider setting up the new version of CorelDraw that the lad had installed for me. But hope to get up early Saturday morning and make a start on it.
Thanked and paid him, and off he went, saying he was having a week’s holiday. I was weary beyond belief.
Blowed if I knew how to shut it down! 
Where there was one one-off button on the front of the old computer, I could feel four… but which one to press was my dilemma. I had to use Google to find out where the Windows 11 start button was.
By nearly midnight, I found out where it was.
I thought before I use it, I’d take a snip of it and save it.
But could I find the now-removed Snip icon from the bottom tray, along with everything else I had on, when it was transferred from W10 to the W11 computer? No!
Back to search Google. Without any luck, I was not concentrating well and was so tired.
So I got my head down around 0300hrs.
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SATURDAY
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Up at 05:10hrs. A Day in Which I Did Nothing: Other than try to learn and get the new computer, CorelDraw, MS Word, Excel, the Snip-app, change it to the right date and time, and how to turn it on to work. I’d seen Andy put the three fonts on. They were on XL, not on Word, CorelDraw, MS Word, or CorelDraw.
I changed tack and looked up how to open the Snip app. The primary keyboard shortcut to open the Snipping Tool overlay in Windows 11 is: Windows Logo Key + Shift + S.
Well, that was the only real success I had with the computer over the next nine hours!
The new external hard drive was flashing for nine hours. I sort of hoped it might be sorting out the new fonts and getting them onto the programmes I needed. Then I uploaded some of the fonts I wanted, and the machine told me they were already installed. But not available anywhere but in Excel. And that has lost my beloved Origano font, and there are now… wait for it… 869 fonts on my system! Note that later, as you can see, the Origano font reappeared on WordPress while I was doing this part, late on Sunday!
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The longest taking and most frustrating programme was CorelDraw. So many things had changed in the 26th version. It took me until Sunday night to work out how to move the… 
SHIT!
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SATURDAY
All the day tabs I’ve made on CorelDraw have turned into gobbledigook! And Windows 11 does not have a calendar with it! I thought of buying a monthly calendar from Amazon, but it won’t let me in on this device, and wants a Google 6-digit validation number. How? No email came in on email or mobile?

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I so regret getting this computer; I could not afford it. 
Andy is away on holiday for a week, so I can’t get any help with the computer problems.

Sorry, I haven’t been calling, I spent ages trying to sort the computer out on my own. Fed-up!

I am so depressed!
See how the lettering has gone overnight.
I’ve about had enough.

AM shot
Motheaten curtains

Beatiful puffer clouds
Carers desk

So much has gone wrong…
I’m just coping, but for how long?
Will I ever get back on song?
I feel I don’t belong…
Life is an emotional dingdong,
Still, Prosper & live-long!
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Got a message from My Angel. The calendar is still there; I just didn’t click the arrow, thinking it would open as it used to with one click. 
I’m getting worse… Hehehe!
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Gorgeous Taste!
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The week, meaning the good Carers will have scarce visits. I am back with a Carer who ignored two of my shouts for help on my last two tumbles. Grunts rather than talks, and gets sharp with me when I can’t understand what he is saying. 
I will see how it goes, but if there are any more let-downs, I shall ask the Carer Company boss to see if he can be replaced as one of my Carers. Explain my fears to her. I hate the thought of doing this, but I’ll see if Care skills and understanding improve.
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Not up to much.
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