Inchy Today – Page 15

Inchie Today: Saturday 18th October 2025

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THE RAW POTATO
Why is it here, beside a worm & a centipede?
He’s told his mother was but a seed,
In his short life, he’s never peed,
Rained on, yes, and he got very soiled,
From his birth home, he was roughly freed,
His family was thrown in a tractor and stored,
Being a big spud, he was selected to be baked…
But Inchie liked him, and he was adopted…
It changed his life forever as the oven heated,
Potato’s essence was to be adulterated…
Destined to be beaten up with cheese & roasted!
But a change of mind, Inchie decided…
Out came a knife, Potty was segmentated…
Sliced, and he was cruelly cut up & chipped!
THE BURNT CHIP
Potato was cut up and thrown into the air fryer,
His skin gone, his shape did alter…
Talk about hot, but it didn’t matter…
His life had not seen laughter or glamour,
Just inactivity, gore, mud, creepy-crawlies galore,
No one to talk to, no bother with any computer,
Not that this mattered anymore…
Burned to a crisp, dried out, but he felt sure…
Inchie would still try to eat him out of hunger,
He’s obviously a gannet, who’s eating more & more,
He’s talking to himself, as he commits potato murder!
Sure enough, he bit into a chip; moreover…
Toothache Tiffany gave out agony from her molar…
As Chip slid down Inchies throat, he did agjure…
To the ‘Potato God’ to make Inchies pain more…
Sure enough, he had a dizzy spell; he fell on the floor,
A crumpled heap, realising this Ode is pure aporia…
From this Odester, fantasiser and wool-gatherer,
Off he drifted to the gates of St Peter…
Who said: Hello, here comes an old, bald meshuggener!
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Five hours of sleep, continuing the slow increase in sleep time gathered over the last five days. I believe the problems might have been my being on the Amoxicillin. The assessed nightly hours of much-needed slumber have been:
Mon 0, Tues 0, Wed 0, Thurs 4, Fri 5.
So, it’s going in the right direction.
I believe Hitler thought the same thing on his way to the Russian front. Haha!

05:10hrs: I gently woke up, and that doesn’t happen often, and nodded back asleep almost immediately.
06:15hrs; I woke with the usual jerking around for a few seconds, and forced my legs off of the bed, to make sure I got up this time. As I was taking off the mocturnal catheter pouch, I estimated I’d had five hours of kip. Good!
Remembered to do the balance exercises for once, and all seemed fair. The only problem I could detect was the left leg’s Catheter, Chloe, which was faux-giving way a few times. She was the same all day. The last thing I want or need is to have another tumble. I think the fear of hospitalisation again is making me more wary.
I poddled out on the balcony, and took two snaps of the progress made on the Nottingham City Council’s tarmacing of the old gravel path up to the Woodthorpe GrangesPark.
This one, taken on the right, both through the glass windows, was of the Citrus Way end car park. Can you see something different in it? No little red car on the chevrons!

Off to the Porcelain Throne.
For another wet and splurty evacuation, this time nearly caught me out with a second watery torrent splurting out a few seconds after the slodgy-wet first one. Back to the junk room to start the computer, and with five minutes, I was on my way back to the Porcelain Throne. Another wet and over-willing affair, but no follow-up.

I got the update done on the Friday blog and posted it to WordPress. Then made a start in this template I’d already prepped. Fingers crossed, I haven’t made any foul-ups this time with it.

As I opened CorelDraw, it was always a risky business. The damned thing nearly always has something wrong with the first opening of it. This week, as I recall, one day it opened with all the right-hand dockers not showing. Pallets, Text, Transform, Glyphs, and Colour had to be put back on manually. Then, on Tuesday, I think, an error email report opened up while loading. It wouldn’t let me fill it in or close it, so I had to force a shutdown and reload from scratch. It cost me so much memory that I had to use CCleaner, which found two ‘vital’ updates that needed to be installed. Clicked on Install, and was told after a few minutes, “Unable to install”. Huh!
Then on Thursday, CorelDraw froze while writing text, well, making a border for the text. All off again, gave in a few minutes and rebooted. Huh!
Then it told me several fonts were unavailable!

I made a mug of Redbush Rooibos tea, and Googled the tea’s properties, benefits and side effects. I gave the box of bags to Carer Ejaz to put in the laundry for someone ot pick it up. Apparently, if you are on Warfarin, you should give it a wide berth. So that was that, a lovely flavourful taste as well.

Carer Ejaz gave me a good going over. Medications. Body check. Hoovered. Foamed & barrier-creamed various ailments as needed.

I was working on this blog.
Suddenly, I found myself lying on the top of the bed, wondering how I got there. The computer was on and had gone into sleep mode. I estimate I’d been there for around two hours. I was so confused, I couldn’t remember why I thought it was two hours, now.
But Ejaz had just arrived for his second call. A short one, and he was asking about the two upcoming hospital visits. I think he said he could not go with me to the hospital on either. The first one, next Wednesday, was too early for him to help. And the second one was on a Thursday. Which was concerning, I think. Cause they will be asking someone who knows what I do when in a seizure to explain to them. How can I, when I can recall noting of the seizures, all I can tell them are the after-effects that I get.
Then again, I was feeling confused when we spoke. I’ll try to clarify the situation when Ejaz returns tonight around 17:45hrs. If I remember to.

I’m going to get my ablutions done now.
Porcelain Throne first, Trotsky Terence again.
Toothache Tiffany’s Teggies were painfully cleaned.
Not a single cut in shaving!
Fractured knee, Catheter Chloe, Arthur Itis, Shaking Shoulder Shirley, and Twitching Neck Nicolas were all Phorpain gelled. Flabby Tubby Tummy Timmy, Underarm Herbert, Man Breasts Boris, and Two-Testicles-Thomas were barrier creamed & foamed. Blephergelled and dry eye sprayed Glaucoma Glady’s eyes. Nasal spray was sprayed. Then the seriously hurtful job of cleaning and medicating poor Little Inchies’ Fungal lesions was tackled. With very little oohing and arghing, although a curse word or two did slip out.
I remembered this time to put the barrier cream on top of the Terbifine Hydrochloride.

Giant potato baked and halved. Sliced the flesh, salted and no-butter butter dolloped in.
Very tasty. There I was, with the meal balanced on my conveniently big-enough belly, eating away and watching a recorded TV Heartbeat episode, and wallowing in almost joy and contentment…
In came a landline call. I struggled to get up to the phone without spilling any of the gorgeously tasty nosh. It was Sister Jane, and he was most upset, almost annoyed!
After Nottingham Forest’s 0-3 defeat to Chelsea, Manager Ange Postecoglou was sacked, minutes after another defeat. The poor gal was distraught! Also, this defeat dropped Nottingham Forest into the relegation bottom three teams! I returned to the now cold meal, well, what was left of it. Unfortunately, the potato husks had hardened too much and were upsetting. I’ll ring Jane in the morning to see how she is, poor gal.

Later, I was trying to take some photos of the night sky, but my efforts were rather dismal;
As you can see here, Tsk!
AS I was taking them, Carer Ejaz arrived on his last call. And came to the rescue, taking this one on his super-camera’d mobile phone.
I read that Tim Price uses a cell phone. He takes many great night shots with his camera.
https://offcenternoteven.com/2025/10/16/owl-sighting/#comment-153634

I think I’m not steady enough to hold the camera still.

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Inchie Today: Friday 17th October 2025

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Who is the UK’s greatest harmer?
Naturally, it has to be Starmer,
Starmer the Solecist, Starmer the Schiziest
Starmer, the backhand coercionist,
Starmer the greedy solipsist,
Starmer, the lies distributist,
Starmer, the oligarchalist,
Starmer the non-socialist,
Starmer the abstrusest,
Starmer the subversist,
Starmer, the shadiest, trickiest, & slipperiest,
Starmer, the proven confidence trickster,
Starmer, the political trespasser, the scamster!
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WHAT AN ODD, MIXED DAY!
Last night, it took its usual time to nod off; however, when I finally did, I got an unbroken four hours on the land of nod. I believe I was dreaming, but I can’t recall what about. I moved at 04:30hrs, took off the night pouch and visited the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence controlled and had moved into a karki-coloured soft bloblets spitting, and splashing out fashion. Stunk awful!
It’s nearly midnight as I type this, and I’m so annoyed about the number one cock-up, I wrote so much so early and could get onto it so much quicker and remember things easily that I recorded… so no notes were made to help me now. Grumph! Spit!

ODDITY ONE: I made up some templates later, three days’ worth. I then realised I filled in the wrong one for today when I started it. So changed the dates and copied what I’d done to the clipboard… There were a few photos and five paragraphs of written stuff on it. Carer Ejaz arrived, did a good job treatment-wise, bless him. Afterwards, I finished off the Thursday blog, did it all back to front. I got it completed and posted it off to WP. Nine hours later, I went to finish it off today, and realised I had not pasted it into this blank page. I sit here wanting to cry and angry with myself at the same time! I’d written all this and lost it, and it’s too late to start again! A messy, niggly day!

ODDITY

ODDITY TWO: A series of mini-seizures like never before, and they had gotten less and less to the point where I was thinking they may be stopping. Fool!
The seizures were all small mini-ones, but the aftereffects were mentally crippling, and the bursts of disorienting acidity that shot from my innards, up into my mouth, were discomforting. The mini-seizures lasted for an hour or so, then I didn’t have any more. At one point, I didn’t have time to recover before another one came along. Very odd!

ODDITY THREE: After the 13:00:hrs visit from Carer Ejaz, I’d recovered from the effects of the flurry of seizures, and we found the address for the Neurology department I’ve got to go to next month. Leengate 1st floor. NG7 2LX. Ejaz will try to ring for a lift for me on Monday. Then I decided I didn’t feel too well, so I made something to eat: a pot noodle with extra Bovril added and some bread to dunk in it. Stayed alert to wash the meal things, and sat in the £300 second-hand shop purchased in 1966, which was a welt-causing, uncomfortable, not working, inspirational, and crumb-containing recliner. And put the TV on, Heartbeat was on. I fell asleep yet again. Had a horrible dream, tormented with things from my past. When I shot awake, I think it was cause Twitching-Neck-Ted was performing; I thought I’d been asleep for a few minutes. I sat there thinking about some things in the dream, and was forced to respond to the non-urgent need for the Porcelain Throne. As I got the walking stick and rose from the recliner, I observed several empty crisp packets in the bin, a lot of them. No wonder I didn’t need to make a meal later on. Coming out of the wet room, having freed myself of another Trotsky Terence Karki Torrent… , then the , and in walked Carer Ejaz on his teatime visit! So, it seems my nod-off must have lasted for at least three hours! My body and brain must be telling me to catch up with all the missed sleep, mathap?

Oddity FOUR: Ejaz found the appointment paperwork for next Wednesday’s Neuroligist visit. Pointed out that I’d left the peas cooking in the pan and turned off the heat. He also turned of the hot water tap (faucet) that I’d left running.

This seems out of sync timewise, I think.

Odds
Early morning view

Looks like they are replacing or upgrading the old gravel path up to the park

Mobility contraption room.
Formerly, the balcony.

TTFN

Inchie Today; Thursday 16th October 2025

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Three sleepless nights in a row. I wonder why?
I’m so tired and weary, I thought I might cry,
Last night, I got into bed really early…
Could not nod off, began to feel surly,
I got up and put the TV on. I wondered why…
I tried the same thing two nights ago,
This failed. No signs of any nodding off or shut-eye,
I wanted to sing myself a lullaby!
My thoughts began to profundify…
Three sleepless nights in a row. I still wonder why?
Who can I blame? Who should take the responsibility?
To take culpability, is at fault, the liability?
Give who or what the responsibility, accountability,
An Oligarch? A Politician? an anythingarian?
One or more of my ailments? Social abusion?
My thoughts are tempered with antiquation…
Is it Hell’s revenge for my last transgression?
Of course, I’m spouting nonsense, a bletheration!
For lack of sleep’s a floccinaucinihilipilification?
People dying in wars in many a nation…
Innocents killed, wounded, denied medication!
And me, with lack of sleep, in need of furazolidone…
It’s nothing compared to many a war zone,
Why is this Insomnia becoming a fixation?
Or rather, the reason for it; is it an intellection?
Time I think for an Inchie introspection!
Mahap, a side effect of the penicillin medication?
I’ve no collywobbles, cough or indigestion,
I have been overdoing food & drink ingestion…
My bad luck continues, making me feel woebegone,
Problems? Computer, CorelDraw, frustration…
Cartilage problems, Deep Dank Dark Depression,
Arthur Itis, Reflux Roger; Living a delusion?
Toothache Tiffany, Glaucoma Gladys = bad vision,
Catheter Cathy refitted, excellent job done, verbatim…
Starmer as PM? I think it’s a violation!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –Another sleepless night, I’m getting fed up of this. As for getting myself out of the bed, or 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 in a morning… Well, it’s getting harder each day. I am mentally and even physically most reluctant to rise from the depths of no sleep. Hehe!
I must mention this new problem that’s been with me for five days, to the Community nurse if one comes today. Ask if she can let the Doctor know about it. As for phoning the Doctor, it is virtually ‘Mission Impossible’ to get through. Carer Ejaz has called the surgery and the Audio Centre several times, but without any luck for me this week. The NHS is crumbling as fast as I am.

It was gone 07:00hrs when I finally gave way and moved from the bed this morning. Took off the catheter night pouch. Like yesterday, I was unsteady on my plates-of-meat, balance not good, but for me at least, I’d got things together (I thought) more than usually for that time of the day.
I found myself at the kitchen window, taking shots. How I got there, why I was taking photos that were even worse than usual. I’ll pass on that question. A faux-feeling that things were coming together overcame me, and I decided I may have time before Carer Ejaz arrives, to have a quick bash at the ablutions. So, I did! Off to the wetroom, I poddled.
Trotsky Terence activated as I got in the wetroom, but he didn’t catch me out this time, and I got my bottom on the plastic seat in time .

I still thought I would get it done in time, and cracked on with the painful teeth cleaning. Arrgh! Then a nasal clearout, then on with the shaving. It’s not a good idea to rush this job, but I only cut myself twice!
A quick body wash, and on with the medicationings. Both ears were olive-oiled. Then, the cream and spray on the eyes. Then the application of the antifungal gel to the Little Inchies’ Fungal lesion. Arrgh!
Creamed the top of the right leg’s scars; they are getting much better now. Then Phorpain gelled Arthur Itis’s knees. I’ll put the NHS gel on knee fractures later when the others have dried. I couldn’t do Carol and Chloe’s cartilage yet because the Phorpain needs to dry properly. I’ll ask Carer Ejaz to do them later. Nor could I bend down to foam the growing leather-like patches of legs. Then I applied the barrier cream underneath my arms, my groin and flabby belly. The application of the Germoloid to my rear end was lovely and cooling! Oh, Yes! I then realised that I’d taken far too long, and was past Ejaz’s usual morning visit time by 20 minutes. I thought maybe he had come in without ringing the doorbell and gone into the front room to sort the medications for me. But no! No signs of the lad, but he sometimes sneaks in and hides, knowing I can’t hear him if he doesn’t ring the bell, and makes me jump. Often, I turn the swivel chair when I think he has come in, but he goes behind it as I swivel, so I see nothing, and then he grabs me. Hahaha! I checked the kitchen and junk room, but there were no signs of the lad. I worried a little at first. He did arrive a little later; I assume he has bus troubles, but he didn’t mention it.
Realising he was going to need t rush to catch up, I didn’t ask him to do a body check.
Especially as I’d done what I could reach safely during the ablutionalisationings. Ejaz got the medications done, checked the HC figures & and recorded them. He asked if I wanted extra pain killers, Peptac (I took some of that), and validated that I was okay, and departed. He did foam the leatherette left leg, saying it was getting worse; if it stays the same on his next visit, he’ll phone the district nurses. I’ll ask him to do the kness later; the other emolluments hadn’t dried quickly enough anyway. And off he trotted.

Blogging away, I thought I heard some machinery noises coming from outside, so I went on the balcony, taking Kodak Tim2 with me to check. Noticing a sign on the bottom field near the entrance to the tree copse. I took a zoomed-in shot so I could read it; I wonder what they are doing.
I took another snap or two while making a brew of Co-op 99 tea from the kitchen window.
The first one is straight ahead. The second one was of the Chestnut Walk car park in front of the Woodthorpe Court, at Winwood Heights.

Three hours later, after Ejaz’s second visit, during which he Phorpain Gelled the left knee, I meandered into the kitchen again. To make another brew. Glad I did. I was taking just one shot of the view.
Hello, is that a fire I see?
I zoomed in on the next one.
Then still further in for this one.

Used the small mug this time. Checked on the garden peas in the slow cooker.
Got the tea next to the computer. I was a bit nervous at the lack of calamities taking place. Haha!

A contracted nurse arrived.
, and in walked tha nurse to take my blood. A different one this time – I’m glad to say. She had a laugh and chatted. Excellent!

Ejaz did his last but one call. We were both concerned about my lack of sleep. In fact, we looked up the problem and its causes on the web. Stress, medical conditions, medications (look no further), caffeine intake, irregular sleep schedules, and environmental factors.

I made a bit of a feast…
Garden peas, seasoned with vegetable flavouring and light soy sauce, with a bit of demerara sugar, Polish Country sausage, and some frozen Harry Ramsden chip shop chips. Milk Roll bread sarnies, thickly spread with no-butter butter, with sliced tomatoes in them.
A lemon & lime yoghourt to follow.
I washed the pots and watched some recorded Heartbeat episodes.

In the morning, I found several empty packets in the wastebasket by the bed. Marmite puffs (1), Marmite & cheese Puffs (2), Frazzles (1). Ahem!

A Time-Travellers Tormentingly Troubled True Tales – Part One

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In 1950, I went on holiday to Wales. I lodged in Tintern village. It was steeped in history, with stone pubs and the evocative ruins of Tintern Abbey, dating back to the 12th century. With its Devil’s Pulpit legend, a local myth about the Devil tempting monks from a rocky outcrop above the abbey ruins, to sin, debauch & have a good time.
This fable interested me, and on the first morning, instead of going fishing, I ventured up the rock-strewn precipice up to the Abbey Grounds and into a large wooded area. Where, the locals told me, many poachers had been found with their throats cut. With the Devil tempting monks from a rocky outcrop above the abbey ruins, to sin, debauch & have a good time… I wondered if he was still in there…

I came across a very old wishing well and casually threw in a penny, wishing I could see the Devil’s Pulpit. Well, you would have, wouldn’t you? As an afterthought, I lobbed in a threepenny bit, and asked to be given the power of time travel – I turned my head and all around me was devastation, no plants, animals or people. Then, right next to me, a sort of spaceship appeared from nowhere. Out of the ship came three men in uniforms with some kind of weapons, and they dragged me into their craft.
No one spoke to me; they clouted me around the head and kicked me in the goolie occasionally, but no one spoke. I thought I must be dreaming. Then realised the blood coming from my newly acquired wounds was real. Within a couple of minutes, I was put in a large room and hung up on the wall. It looked very hygienic and clean, so I wouldn’t have been at the old Abbey.
An hour passed, and I took a glance at the police officers of some sort, by looking at their uniforms. They cut me down. Then pointed to the open door, still not speaking to me. They had floating on air vehicles. I was put alone in one of the seats, and it took me through several walls, rooms, out over some turfing, and into what was obviously a court of some sort. Whatever they were in this massive room, they spoke to me in good English.
I can’t recall the exact words, but it went along these lines: James Timothy Gerald Algernoon Chambers, also known as Inchie, is charged with operating a time machine in a careless, uncontrolled fashion, causing damage to the flora and fungi in Sector 114/TT in the Republic of Wales this day, Thursday, 324th of Junnock 4025. How do you plead?
“I haven’t got a time machine!”
“Liar! His Lordship, the Devil’s Pulpit, issued you with one in 1951, that’s how you go here!”
“Well, I was the wishing well and…”
“Hold it, more evidence coming in…”
“It seems to have attempted to bribe the Wishing Well with extra funds to get time-travel, according to our records.”
“You know full well that each time machine operates differently, I mean, you wouldn’t drive a Sinclair 5013688014956BEX the same as you would a TREX05, now would you? That’s obvious to anyone!”.
The man with three eyes interrupted the four-eyed judge: “Are you saying you are operating a Time-Machine without a Licence?”
“Well… yes!”
There was an aghast sound from the gallery, with the odd, “Hang-Him! Cut-of-his-goolies! Give him life!.
A spoke up in protest, “That’s not fair!”
“It’s the law, Inchie. You will be beheaded on the guillotine in…”
A bald man rose and pleaded for mercy for me.
“M’Lord, can we not show mercy? At least make an appeal to our barrister-minded Saviour, His Everythingness Head Wallah, for mercy – naturally throwing in a decent backhander for Starmer?

Hahaha!
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There’s more to come on this!

Inchie: Sunday 31st August 2025

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I’m worried about the Grim Reaper,
Not visited in August, now it’s September!
Has something changed his agender?
Last we met, he spoke of a nymph named Rusalka,
A female creature who seeks souls not after…
death, but before, & ferry them to Purgatory,
Each is an illegal immigrant soul-gatherer,
They come in dreams, offering virgins for a fiver,
The Virgin Goddess of the Hunt, Dziewona,
I’ve missed my designated soul-collector,
He was straight-talking, no verbal garniture,
For my last day, he promised me fresh golonkowa…
With sourdough bread & pickled cucumber,
I thought a moment ago that I could smell vinegar,
He said he’d get me in a cell with souls of kvetchers,
He guaranteed to keep me safe from Herr Starmer,
And his lies, bullying and moratoria…
I couldn’t have asked for better…
Me, a mentally-challenged failed rhymester,
When I die, decease, perish, & meet St Peter,
I leave this mortal coil, led by my Grim Reaper,
He will try to become my permanent Carer,
It’s love, I think, though it sounds macabre,
Gawd, I hope he wasn’t a leg-puller!
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She was still shaking when I stirred at 06:15 hours. (Another late one). That might teach me not to shoulder-charge the wetroom door frame… at least, not so often. I had to laugh at myself when I reached down to retrieve the nocturnal catheter bag for emptying – it showed I was still on edge from yesterday’s mishaps. I used my left hand to hold the shoulder in case she had loosened the joint with her overnight rattling and shudderings. Haha! Now, a laugh upon waking may be a sign that things will go better today. Mind you, look what happened to Hitler when he attacked Russia.

Very few photos and news on the blog today. I must try to at least complete yesterday’s blog. If I have the time, I need to complete the 30 templates for September. I know, not a cat-in-hells chance. But I must at least try.
Oh, no, just remembered I can use Jetpack, like I did last month. I did it in half the usual time. Now, if only I could remember how I did it. Never mind, there are still unknown challenges to come. Do I sound a smidgeon pessimistic?
First kitchenette shot

Evacuation Conrad Constipation Controlled.

Carer Nimra. Body Check.
Some new blood-filled swelling was spotted.
They were not painful, but Nimta called the Community Nurses. They will send someone to inspect the area. Later decided Monday, not today. This will be no problem.

Amazingly, I completed the templates in record time, despite dealing with numbers.

Morning snap

Seizures are getting frequent. I spent ages in repeated recovery times, doing nothing.

Afternoon…
cloud…
photos.

Hours & hours doing blogs.

TTFN

Inchie: Sat 30 Aug: Yet another lousy day! Confusion Konrad, Depression Darius, Sandra Seizures, but little High-Mood-Horis!

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Where do I leave my words of perspicuity?
I’ll try to explain to you clearly,
Mayhap inside a time capsule,
Where do we bury it? In a school,
Perhaps a police station or hospital?
All three will be run by the Oligarchy,
Used by backhanergivers & the aristocracy,
If Herr Starmer gets his way,
What goes in our time capsule?
The lies of Herr Starmer, the fool?
His standards? Self-motivated & dual…
Kiers lies, barriserial & political?
I, like millions, look forward to his burial!
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What a day! The agony started as soon as I woke up. I was in fact enjoying the peace of being in a seizure, unaware of that, of course, it seems the only way to get any sleep and stay in it nowadays, but the recovering after effects were pretty harmful, as per usual. The door chime rang, stirring me cruelly back to reality. But my confusion and balance were all over the place. Getting out of bed took that long; the chime stopped. I continued the battle to get on my feet and carried the nocturnal bag with me to save time, to reach the panel when they called back, and to unlock the door.
In the rush and confusion, I got the catheter bag caught on the corner shelf as I exited the room… Knocking off and breaking a small ornament I kept in memory of my wonderful Aunty Kath. Amidst all the panic, Depression Darius joined me, with Frustration Frank and a rare visitor, Fearful Fred. I was aware that the confusion and panic were coming from the seizure recovery, but that didn’t help.
When I unlocked the door, and, daft as it sounds, I had no idea what day or time it was, which panicked me further. I’d had no rest & recovery time, do you see? I’ve no idea what happened, just a few odd bits, of which I’m not certain anyway.
When Carer Nimra came in, I was back sitting on the bed with my head in my hands. (The head hadn’t fallen off, Hehe!) No recollection of much of what took place. Lots did, cause there was a full page of scribbled notes about it. Undecipherable, so I must have written them while still recovering after Carer Nimra had departed. The last bit I could read… I went into another seizure as Nimra left. I recall her telling me to sit down, I’m going now… There was nothing the gal could do anyway. Bless her. I got back on the bed. I think it was minutes later, I came back to reality, and all the after-effect symptoms had, as expected, returned. I was not going to risk getting up too quickly or soon after being forced to; that was not a pleasant experience.

I rose carefully about 15 minutes later. Grabbed Willie the Wooden Walking Stick. Off to the kitchen to steep a Detox bag in water. I visited the Porcelain Throne. Feeling more comfortable and with it as time passed. A 100% turnaround in the evacuation. Hard work, painful and bloody session. Yet a nice change from the last eight sloppy, wet, spattery Trotsky Terence cleaning up-after trips.

Later, I found this shot of the trees & bushes on the front of the flat’s walkway and carpark. I can’t recall when, or even if, I took it.

There were numerous issues with CorelDraw and the SD reader; in fact, it completely crashed. Boy, was I struggling with fitting the new one. Yes, I was!
I got the new SD reader out of its box. The SD cards now have to be inserted upright, which my Cramp-ridden, arthritic, and Peripheral neuropathy-affected fingers were reluctant to let me do. The more I use it, the easier it might get. It features several additional benefits, including a turn-on/off button for each socket. Which will be no use to me if I can’t find out how to replug it in the back of the computer.
I was leaning forward to plug in the one… and PN’s dying neurotransmitters, shot the wire from my grip… They often perform similar actions, such as preventing me from gripping something or not allowing me to release something. I’ve broken countless mugs and plates. You may have noticed I no longer use plates, only paper ones or metal ones. This can be a problem when removing a hot dish from the microwave or oven, and I’m unable to release the hot dish or tray. You may have noticed the number of burns I collect. Haha!
I was nearing the point of accepting that forgetting the socket for us and losing the plug wire would cause a terminal issue here. Carer Nimra arrived at just the right moment. At my point of despair…
She knew which socket to use and inserted it for me.
WALLAH! And I then had a new SD reader that worked
YeeHaa! No, double, even treble YeeHaa!
Bless her cotton socks!
But, more good news! I know, you are not used to getting good news from Inchie Today.
I put the mousse and keyboard senders in the last two plugs, and the SD reader in the next one. There are on/off buttons for each connection! I then grilled Nimra, asking what had taken place this morning, saying I couldn’t recall. She calmly told me I was all over the place verbally and physically. But don’t worry, you coped well with it all. I realised she’d not put the diabetic socks on, but had given me the morning’s prescription medications. So I spent the day sockless, Herhehe! Undoubtedly, this saved the day for me and was what spurred a short, but pleasantly acceptable visit from ! Then… No chance to start yesterday’s blog update yet. Because the frustratingly unreliable CorelDraw started playing up, and after sorting out the failure to save the page was due to a lack of memory, I pondered what I could do about it.

Going into a seizure, the length of reading War & Peace, compared to the usual 2 to 15 minutes, did me no good at all. I cannot judge how long it lasted, but it must have been a long one, because the after-effects and recovery time are always easier after a lengthy seizure. Also, the mug of Glengettie tea that I’d made was now stone cold! And, getting the brain to concentrate was a lot easier than after one or a series of .
I summoned as much intellectualisation as Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Mavis could muster, to try and find a solution to my problem with CorelDraw. Graphic artists worldwide have to do this regularly, I’m sure. So, having pondered, the best I could come up with was to use CCleaner and hope it creates enough space in the process. So, I did.
I had closed Excel and Word, then Google, and after saving the work, I ran CCleaner. It allowed me to keep CorelDraw open. (Sadists! Haha!) CCleaner claimed it had removed 2500 KB from the hard drive and 967 KB from the drive. This looks good, I thought.
Back to CorelDraw to try to save the work again. I opened Google, was going to go back to CorelDraw…

That went well… I waited, and waited for the windows to update. Not sure if I fell asleep or not. What day is it? What was I doing?
I had confidence once back on CorelDraw that CCleaner must have removed enough to save the artwork. I tried – it didn’t work. I screamed, wailed, spat & cried. My language was a bit crude.
I lost all the photographs when CorelDraw froze again! I did cry this time!

Then, yet another cock-up was made! I seem to be becoming an expert on these.
Amazon sent me an email stating that the £149 wheelchair, which had received adverse reports, had been cancelled. I promptly placed an order for one of the £184 models with handbrakes on the handles for the Carer or pusher, but with self-propelling wheels. I was thrilled that I might be able to get out and about on my own.
I realised that I had not checked the comments on this model, so I did. They were a replica of the comments on the £149 model???
But it had been a terrible day for me, and I was getting more and more tired and sleepy now, after suffering enough problems, Whoopsiedangleplops and frustrations to last me over the last few days for the rest of my life. Well, maybe. I’m still far behind with blogging than I’ve ever been. I frustratedly gave up on the computer and got my overdue Ablutions done.
The seat marks under my arm had worsened significantly overnight. I’ll ask the Carer to use the barrier cream and remind them to remove all traces of the old cream, then clean the area with baby wipes. This is only if I remember to ask whoever comes. As ‘Forgetters go!’, I think I deserve an award for my sheer dogged persistence, regularity, & stupidity.
I almost had myself over when I washed my feet in disinfectant in the bowl while shaving, getting only one cut! It did bleed a bit, mind you.
I foolishly decided to get a short-sleeved black kagoule hand-washed and rinsed, then hung it up in the wet room to dry on the shower curtain rail. As I turned to leave the room… I shoulder-charged the door edge. Which set off on one of her vicious attempts to dislodge the ball from the socket! Not that this actually surprised or upset me, it was just another cog, pain and annoyance on my way to total insanity. I’m not ready for considering suicide yet, cause I still have dreams of someone assassinating Starmer; I’d hate to miss that, and it would give a little lift, and laugh. I’ve paid for my funeral. I told the Carer where the details are. Not that I’m in any rush. Oh no, but if things carry on as they are… well!

I’m assuming that I had a seizure. I came back and was mopping the kitchen floor with the speed mop. The storage trolley was out of position, I’d moved food from a cupboard onto the floor near the radiator, and opened both windows. I’d been busy during my ictus? No one has explained to me how this can be so. Impossible to happen, surely?
Now this had happened before. If I recall rightly, it was the same as last time. The recovery and confusion were far less than having had an ‘ordinary’ seizure when all I apparently did was say, according to the Carers who were with me at the time: Sometimes with open eyes, others with them closed, but always with jerks, shaking and a mumbling of incoherent short words. Joeonce wrote down what I was babbling about in short outbursts; Urghum, Worramum, ehereherehu and No, no. With different expressions for each so-called word?
But how can I do things like moving things, and mop a floor? Mind you, I made a mess of that and had to clean it again this time.

And what happened to my feeling of being so drained?
Why should I do it at this time of night, let alone during a seizure? How? Why? Thankfully, these don’t occur very often… Ah! Perhaps there is a connection to my feeling of being so tired? Nae!

I keep getting myself off track tonight. But the need of food arose. I looked in the fridge to see what was available for dining on. The photo above reveals two outdated food items that I had to discard. The pastie on the right was use-by 19th Aug. Whatever it was inside that had gone mouldy and showing through the pastry and bag was mysterious enough. But then, why did I buy them in the first place? My tiredness returned.

I decided, after seeing what was not available to eat, to opt for frozen chip shop chips, tomatoes, and two defrosted cheesy-topped no-butter buttered bread rolls, along with some cheap £1-a-packet ham slices, which were well within their use-by date, 8th September. Worryingly, the highest ingredient listed was water.
However, they were a success (Not the meat, but the tomatoes, bread and chips were lovely).

There’s a chance of a miracle having taken place here. I cannot remember seeing the moon while I was in bed. Sometimes I see the hue coming through the tatty, thin curtains. I’ve been known to scramble out of bed to take a shot of it. I’m sure I didn’t tonight… well, as sure of anything I can ever be sure of. But that’s not saying much, is it? This snap was so beautiful, I’d have thought I’d remember taking it.
It’s Sunday evening as I write this. I’m now over two blogs behind. I think. I’m waffling on, and still have Sundays to start, and 30 templates to make up.
I’ll do a quickie for Sunday. Just the top graphics, CorelDraw permitting.
An Ode, hopefully.
And a photo or two…
I should get it done by Christmasish. Haha!.

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MISSING HORIS!

🤎 CHEERY-BYE FOLKS 🤎

Inchie: Friday 29th August 2025

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Random things that can yet, or did, make me happy…
From memory, diaries, and some even theoretically,
At 14, a Lady of forty took my cherry,
Which I loved, but why? It confused me,
Which life has done, ever since, diurnally,
Later, developing a natural negativity,
Cynicism, defeatism, and despondency,
This helped me cope with life’s adversity,
At birth, Mother said, ‘Throw it away’,
Life would have been a little shorter…
but have gone less problematically,
Am I losing the plot of the faux-poetry?
No, it’s just my affected memory…
In old age, my teeth are rotting away…
Diabetes Don, Anne Gyna, Cartalige Chloe,
Duodenal Donald, Toothache Tiffany,
Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Peggy,
Myoclonic-Seizures-Sid, Peripheral Neuropathy,
Inchy’s Fungal Lesion, & Lymphorrhea Leslie,
Méniere’s disease, Episodic-Ataxia-Ellie,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids, Eric’s Eczema,
Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, mentally,
Earache Eric, Whoopsiedangleploppery,
Herings aids, both needing a battery,
Ingrowing toenails; Unguis Incarnate Nelly,
Mechanic Ticker Trevor and Reflux Valve Rene,
Newly-diagnosed Hydrocephalus-Harry,
They don’t overbother me, individually,
For they are all a part of me, intrinsically…
Even when affecting me painfully or cripplingly,
Coping with a warped brain & disabled body,
Getting through each day makes me happy,
Another secret, to help you feel less crappy,
Concentrate on hexing Starmer (the Iffy),
His soundbites on isonomy prove his inanity,
He rules crappily, but has got inexpugnability,
Taking backhaners from the Oligarchy,
No one can deny his lies & criminality,
I pray for a political solution, philosophically,
We can do nothing legally curatively,
I’m only thinking this whimsically…
I’m hoping he dies painfully…
very slowly and in utter agony,
Tomorrow perhaps? Hopefully,
That’d make me overjoyedly happy!

TODAY’S COCK-UPS

I tell you now of my discontent,
Why is my life so abhorrent?
Whoopsiedangleplops Accifauxpa torrent,
Unsolvable Problems & ailments,
The computer, now an inconvenience!
No help from anywhere,
Its memory is now bare,
Tonight, CorelDraw died,
My depression cannot be denied,
I managed to save some graphics & photos,
Got old ones, I’ll have to use those,
Struggling with this Odes prose,
Made an order by mistake on Amazon.
Tried to cancel it, reply waited on,
Already got my lowest ever bank balance,
Find a Solution? I haven’t had a chance!
Will it let me update this blog? I’m not yet sure,
All my problems, not one cure!
I feared being forced into an old folks’ home,
At this moment, I realise that I’d not be alone,
Financially, physically, and mentally sick!
In the morning, I woke up in a seizure,
And then came the morning Carer,
Of which there is little I can remember,
It may be the end of my blogging,
I don’t know yet if this blog will be saved,
But after all my work in creating…
If not, it’s going to be so gauling,
I’m hoping that CorelDraw will be loading,
Not confident, just hoping,
The wheelchair ordered is self-propelling,
The standard one, I got it four weeks ago,
But no Carer has taken out, though,
When I get paid for the self-propeller,
And get it inspected by a Carer,
I can get out and feel freer,
But what I do now fear,
By the time it’s checked & inspected,
I might be too old to use it, well dated!
Still no appointment made for the Audio Clinic,
No delivery of the Diabetic osenitic,
I’m feeling so depressed and sick!
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Up 05:55hrs. Urine was a 5 on the Richter scale.

Views taken from the balcony
End car park.
Towards Mansfield Road
Towards the park
Left, front car park & flat balconies

Had a bit of a mini seizure that lasted seconds, I thought. That’s a guesstimate. After the seizure, a little out of it, I made a mug of Detox tea and tended to my ablutions. Then shelled some garden peas to nibble cold and add to the planned stew tonight.

To the intercom to let in Carer Ejaz. Who did a fair job for me this morning? Diabetic socks were put on.
Medications were given.

I started to do the blog.
I noticed I’d not changed the date on the clock.
Got a mug of proper tea, and the peas to nibble. Seeing that I had still not changed the date on the clock. So, I did!

Started to update yesterday’s blog.
I got into it and felt the catheter bag drop; the urine pouch was full to the brim, and the weight of the bag tugged the tube in little Inchy. I believe I may just have used some naughty language.
Just look at the amount of urine that came out. The bag is a 200ml one, but the jug indicates it is 400ml. No wonder it felt down.

I got a call to say that an ambulance was on its way to see me. No idea why?

Sister Jane rang me. It was hard work without the hearing aids. I’d been trying to book an appointment for 4 weeks with the Carers. But no joy. I moaned a little about things to her. And she moaned back about her problems. Hehehe! And told me off, of course.

The intercom chimed. The chap came in with an electric scooter. I thought at first it was a Red Cross man bribing it for me – what a clot! It was a Carer, Ahbul. I showed him the wheelchair on the balcony and moaned that no Carer had taken me out on it yet; in fact, it hadn’t been fully erected and checked for safety yet. The lad departed, and I’d been talking (I talk a lot nowadays, mainly to myself and my alter ego, Inchie) about the wheelchair. I went on the balcony and checked out the disabled machines.
The four-whelled walker.
The new wheelchair, unused to date. Fitted a cushion on it. Searched around with the aid of the impractical, worthless manual, which had such tiny printing that it was really of no value.
At least the cushion fitted. I found where the passenger brakes were and tried them. Crude tinny metal, but they worked.
Then had an in-depth, almost pointless perusal of the mwinenace/instruction manual. I think it might have been for the wrong model. As you can see in the photo I took, this is for a self-propelled model with large wheels.
This model has tiny wheels.
However, the thought of having a self-propelled one and the advantage of not needing an expensive Carer to push me means I perhaps could get to the Social Room in the other block of flats, Winwood Court, and have a chat with others. Maybe, perhaps, possibly. Or not. There’s bound ot be a difficulty in getting one on the NHS, but I felt one would benefit me.
So, I went to the Amazon site to investigate.
The prices ranged from £69 for a child. Up to £3,999 for a Sports Model. The ones that caught my eye were those with pad-cusions for the back of the legs, which was the first criterion I adopted. Many of them had a strap across the front of the frame. These pads claim to be better for people with diabetes. So, I went through all 44 pages of what I searched for: self-propelled wheelchairs with brakes at the front and back. (Leg pads in brackets)
Five at £184, one at £148. The £184 ones all looked the same model. The £148 did not have handbrakes for the pusher. This was the only difference that I could find. Then, I checked the comments about the £148. Not good. 2.5 rating overall. I was going to check the comments for the £184 one, but Carer Nizra arrived and I forgot all about checking.

Then the mobile rang. The £35-a-bash toenail cutter was on its way up to me.

When I got back on the computer, I found that I’d ordered the £148 wheelchair. Nobody told me… except Amazon, in an email. I went to Amazon to cancel the order. The message said, ‘We will try to cancel it, let you know, and advise you.

The gal got my nails cut, and we managed a little chat and a laugh.
Look at the time already!
A fantastic site, no, sight!

Off to the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence led the session, but not as dominantly this time.

When I got back in the front room, I was pretty ashamed of the mess in there.

I made up the meal for later on, one of my off-the-cuff stews, or whatever they should be called. Masses of garden peas, other vegetables, chopped some water chestnuts into it, and added Bovril. I had some bread left over that wasn’t too hard for dipping.

Turned off the computer and had only put on today’s cartoon. So far behind again.

CALAMIY, FEAR, MORE DEPRESSION DARIUS!
I couldn’t save the work I’d done in CorelDraw.
Not enough memory available!
I went to make a brew to help me think through my options available to rescue things.

Despite my morseness, I still took these snaps of the view from the kitchen window. Not even knowing if I can use them or not. Proof that I need help!
As if I didn’t know beforehand already!

The meal came out well.

I went to wash the pots, and yet again, possibly wasted my time taking this last snap.
Still, it’s worth it, a bit of nature.

Another day of Depression & Frustration,
Seizures, errors just never lessen,
This should teach me a lesson…
To get mental rest, do I need absolution?
Mistakes, lost words, or an anachronism…
Forgetfulness, confusion, an aphorism,
It’s months since my last cachinnation,
Life once livable is now a damnation,
Today I felt as if I was forsaken…
Of course, I could have been mistaken,
No help, hope, or satisfaction…
High Mood Horis was missing in action,
So many things, to curse or gurn in reaction,
I’m depressed, more than a fraction…
I find life & living, all a guesstimation!

#= # = # = # = # = # = # = # = #
I REALLY HOPE I’LL BE BACK!
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Sorry, I’ve had so little time to get on the WP Reader & Comments. It’s been even busier than usual lately. And I’ve not started writing Saturday’s blog yet.

Birthday Boy Inchie: 28th August 2025

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I believe the Labour Party were blindsided,
Being out of power for so long, they became beclouded…
When Fibber Starmer was elected their leader,
They won, mainly because of the Tories’ failure,
Now the position of Prime Minister…
Has been bedarkened, cheapened and lessened,
By Starmer, the liar, the Tory, the Pensioner robber,
Each voter is becoming a revenge seeker,
Giving out sound bites about his plans from the ether,
He’s fibbed, turncoated, and been well back-handed,
In such a short time, the UK, Keir’s buggered,
He reckons he’s done no wrong as Prime Minister,
Reeves courted WASPI women, pretending to be a supporter,
After 14 ruinous years of austerity ruination… Keir, imposing more austerity and cutbacks, with the confidence of a madman,
Starmer’s dodgy donors bought him footy tickets & freebies,
Pretty dresses for his wife, Keir accepting free spectacles,
Lobbing cash at his cabinet of Labour-right ghouls,
Churn out legislation that’s favourable to his dodgy donors’,
It’s a quid pro quo, and he got caught red-handed,
No prosecution, his lying was not disrupted…
His bravado was not disrupted or interrupted,
Labour got in by default, as the Tories imploded,
Jeremy Corbyn now as a frothing Nazi shithead,
Doom-mongering, at the start of a five-year Labour mega-majority, was yet another whopping blunder,
He dented confidence; said things would get worser,
Was he a deceiver, hoodwinker? He was a Barrister!
A kind description would be a moral short-changer,
Or a deluder, deceiver, a fraud, cheater,
Letting right-wing Streeting run the NHS is a disaster,
Starmer’s seen both the Labour government’s, as his own personal approval ratings collapse through the floor, into the sewer,
He insists all he’s done is right, not wrong. What a plonker!
Keir is smug, complacent, and incapable of self-reflection,
Somehow, he avoids being assassinated, even prosecution?
So, why not lock away this illywacker?
In an asylum, to guarantee his own safekeeping?
There’s no Pensioners indoors for robbing…
Family farmers or parents for bankrupting,
It would, of course, be ideal for suiciding,
Taking that route, he’ll not be deciding…,
Give him a twice-daily cold shower,
In between, a daily testicle-tasering?
Hehehe! I bet that got you smiling?
A guillotine, hanging? But, maybe poisoning…
But killing anyone, I’m not recommending…
I’m just living in hope, suppositioning,
Finally, my last words on Keir in this Odeing…
I find him dishonest, smug, Tory-like & disconcerting…
Thinking of him while I’m Odeing is excruciating!
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04:00hrs: I stirred from my broken piecemeal slumber. The second I moved, Cartilage Chloe had my number, first pain, then it went numb, repeating this action until 4 hours later, when I finally got my pain killers, Codeine from Carer Ejaz. That saw off Catrtilage Chloe’s pain problem. Shame it didn’t stop her from threatening throughout the day and then collapsing. She had wobbled a few times, but I stayed on my feet despite her birthday ruining efforts.

Once I dismounted from the bed, I started a few hours of unexpected industriousness. I whipped off the nocturnal catheter bag, leaving it on the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966 moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, dirty, blood-stains-covered, much dilapidated, crumb-containing from early evening nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, Harold Haemorrhoid annoying, not working recliner. For The Carer to colour-grade for me.
There was no stopping me then… I was up for it, with occasions, for no reason made the odd, but short, early morning visit!
I put the kettle on to make my morning mug of Detox tea, and wobbled off to the wet room, nearly falling over my own walking stick as I entered the room. Without the usual self-lambasting and calling myself names. I believe I did not swear either. Yes! The evacuated product was a deep red, slushy substance. I think it may have been through me eating some vegetable pickle and a lot of beetroot yesterday.

I think I did well with the shaving and the scrubbing up this morning. Fair enough, there were three shaving cuts, but they were no bother. The Brut aftershave soon stemmed the bleeding. Obviously, the usual gums and teeth bled, but this new toothpaste does seem to be less painful to use overall. Olive oiled the earholes, eyedrops put in the eyes… well, some of it, about 50% of it ran down my cheek and into my mouth, to join the blood and Duraphat in there. Haha!
The lower regions’ medicalisationings was, as usual, painful. The removal of the barrier cream from last night, from my man breasts and hanging belly blob, was of little or no bother. However, I have now been instructed to use baby wipes to clean the area around the previous medications, as well as the before applying the barrier cream, and/or when trying to apply the hydrochloride cream to Little Inchies’ fungal lesion.
So, you can see why I have to get up so early every day, with all the tasks that need to be done daily.
Worra-Life!

All done, struggled a tad with getting the PPs (protection pants) on. Dressing gown on, and I went back to the front room. Taking this shot from the balcony of the end car park. The dog walker’s two dogs couldn’t resist having a pee on the wheels of the little red car parked on the chevrons. (Police dogs? Haha!)

I then sorted the bags into a large one and drank the Detox tea, sipping it as instructed.
Then I was summoned back to the Porcelain Throne again. Just the same, watery and deep red. When it started to flow, I could hear it hitting the water below, even without my hearing aids. It honestly flowed for at least two minutes before turning into a dribble, followed by a slow, megafart. I laughed out loud!

I washed my hands and went to the kitchenette to get the kettle on for the first ‘proper’ brew of Typhoo Extra Strong tea, and nice it was, too.
Then I took these two shots, through the glass, one to the left and the other to the right. Rain!

Carer Nimra did the next call. Then, at long last, I got started on catching up on the blog. Hahaha! And I have to say that never happened!

FED-UP? ME? YES!
CorelDraw, Memory problems, and I’ve just found out that the instruction/maintenance booklet for the wheelchair is for another model with self-propelling large wheels.
FED-UP? ME? YES!

It’s already 15:00 hrs on Friday. I’ll have to skip the rest of the blog; I’ll add the photos if the computer allows me. Here goes…

Late night
The urban night

I think this may be the end.

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TTFNski, Each
I HOPE

Inchie Today: Wednesday 27th August 2025

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I read this with a certain ambivalence,
For my brain’s gained degree of avirulence,
My brain shows truculence in defiance…
My brain returns only ululants,
I believe he’s after aggrandisements,
Praise, thanks; hence his truculence?
But he can’t be blamed for being impercipient,
For his world is baron of jouissance,
Yet, he copes with my verbal-absonance!
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Straight into it, I’m so far behind with this blog: It is Thursday morning now, 08:054hrs, only just kicking off from here. Forgive any cock-ups chronologically or grammatically. I was so busy again. I may miss bits off to try and get caught up. Because Thursday (today) I’ve a nurse calling. Social Worker, Window cleaner, four Carer Visits, four deliveries, Vyne with catheter equipment, HRG with medicational aids, and I anticipate that hundreds of callers will wish me a Happy Birthday. Nurse Hristina has sent me a birthday card! It’s so precious… I hope to beat last year’s grand total of three cards. Hahaha! I didn’t. Which makes this one even more beloved.
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Up at 05:50hrs. Urine a 5.
Three trips to the Porcelain Throne in the first hour. All Trotsky Terence affairs. I blame my eating that vegetable pickle, you know. Chanfed the calendar and made a brew of Extra Strong Typhoo tea.

Ablutions sorted, waste bins sorted, and I moved the Catheter Contraption onto the right leg. Painful! New top strap needed.

Took a snap from the kitchenette window of the doom-looking sky. I found the cloud variations appealing. Great!

The JS food order arrived…
The deliveryman took the bags through to the kitchen for me. That was kind of him. Thanks!

Seeks that I must have ordered a Chinese chicken and red rice ready microwave meal. Or did I?
I’m not even keen on it?

I also must have ordered Vibe batter-coated potato slices. Fresh pod peas and shelled peas. Chessy-topped bread rolls, tomatoes, and beer-battered, thrice-fried chips?

Finally got onto the computer. Not that I got much done, so busy, as you will read below.

Carer Ejaz arrived. Body checks, barrier creaming, Phor[ain gelled Cartilage Chloe, & medications were given. We searched and eventually found a Catheter-Top band. Ejaz ordered some more for me.

Matron Jackie arrived. Check up my rear-end. The goulies area was the only concern. The fungal lesion looked dodgy. She said The ankles and legs. Suggested I ask the Carers to clean the lower regions. This didn’t go down well. The female carers would probably make me laugh too much!

11:00hrs: I made a belated mug of Detox tea. Steep in boiling water for 30 minutes. Two hours later…
I remembered it.
Balcony shot taken through the glass of the end car park. No red car on the chevrons.

Then a community nurse called on me. Many things were discussed, but I can’t recall what. No! I was puzzled, cause I’d not had a seizure as I knew of.

Carer Ejaz arrived for the longer visit. He took down the laundry to put it in the machine first.

Bit of fun here. When the sun came out, I took this shot from the computer chair. Later, when I got it from the SD card, I rotated it the wrong way, and this was photo A. The fun to me was that I didn’t realise until I came to put it in. Looking at them, both could have the one. Hehe!

Ejaz returned, and we discussed the problem that I had been trying to resolve for four weeks at the Audio Centre, but nothing had changed or happened. After he called the Carer’s office, he said they may ring for us, and he will let them know when it is.
We’ll see what happens on this one.

Ejaz went down to move the clothes into the dryer. He had to wait for one to be free. While he was out, I used CorelDraw to create the top graphics.

A Social Lady called on the Landline. I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, and I explained the problem with the hearing aids getting repaired.

Ejaz came back up and mopped the kitchen for me.

I got back to CorelDraw…
Oh, dearie me. More problems to make me even further behind than ever!
I waited for the control device to complete its task, whether checking or changing.

Ejaz checked the dates on the fresh foods. Two out-of-date. Then he went down to collect the washing from the dryer.

I was already shattered physically, and now mentally. The mental problems come when difficulties are recognised as not solvable with the amount of help I’m getting. Then the mind torments itself with thoughts of insurmountable worries.
Since Carer Joe left, no one has taken any action with the correspondence; letters are scattered all over the place. They open the odd one now and then, but the two big file boxes under the Carer’s table have not been added to since Joe left the job

The DVT Warfarin Lobotomy nurse arrived. She handed me a birthday card from Nurse Hristina, which was for the next day. 🤎 (Today). Lovely lady. Then took two samples of blood. Bless her! 🤎

Ten minutes later…

Carer Nimra gave me the evening medications, and then came right back up again. I managed to get to the waste bin in time.

I was so weary again, I made a meal with a lot of beetroots. I thought I’d taken a photo of it, but there were photos of it on the internal or SD card.

🤎TTFNski🤎

Inchie Today: Tuesday 26th August 2025

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Parts of this Ode may reveal emotion,
Inchie wrote it as a sort of antidepression,
It didn’t work, but it gave him indigestion,
I expect he’ll lose concentration & attention,
He apologises for bits that underwent abscission,
And those that he missed from inclusion,
And his concentrations lack of addression,
Nowadays, he struggles to master delineation,
He searches for a cure-all, a diacatholicon…
Hoping he may retrieve his moyo, that’s long gone,
His nousse used to be like a mental dzong-jong,
Defending against disagreement and dissension,
He seeks not gold, fame, fortune or Zircon…
But fears his medications may bring zombification,
Scared that his dementia will create vilification,
No confidence left, he touches would for unberufen,
He recalls that his life has never been utopian…
Aware his thoughts, body, & brain don’t work in verbatim,
Lost his desires, he’s become an anythingarian,
Prays, hopes, pleads, begs; as a futilitarian,
His ageing body and brain have no synchronisation,
His understanding shows significant misinterpretation,
What he gleans usually includes jealousy & effluvium,
His own thoughts need elucidation or interpretation,
Yet, taking in all the considerations…
Along with his countless medications…
He knows this world is totally free of perfectibilians,
Oligarchs claim to be, and there are millions,
Inchie finds it easier to mix with the minions,
He gives his ailments a twice-daily examination,
A daily battle, vs confusing seizures & depression…
I think he’s hoping that life is just an illusion.
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I woke up later than I have done this year. It was 06:55hrs! No time to get my ablutions done before a Carer was likely to arrive. Still, I lay there and nodded off again. Waking at 07:15hrs, cursing, and forcing myself out of bed, most reluctantly and disinterestedly than I have ever been on any morning before. I bent down to take off the nocturnal bag and found it wasn’t on. But the much smaller day pouch was bloated, and once I moved, it was painful. Some foul language was emitted.

I plodded into the kitchen and got the Detox bag in a mug, awaiting the water in the kettle to boil. Then I steeped the bag. This type needed a 30-minute steep. So, I took the chance and visited the Porcelain Throne. Another Trotsky Terence torrent followed. Messily!
I took some morning shots:
Three red cars this morning.
Sky shot to the north.
Then to the South East. I took them within a minute of each other, and I could see how the colouring had changed so quickly.

Carer Ejaz arrived. Did a good job for me. Medications. He antispeticated the eankles for me, then fitted my diabetic socks. A quick body check and some barrier creaming. And the lad was ready to go, but not before I took a photo of him for this blog. He posed like a professional model! Handsome bute! Oh, and Ejaz took a snap of the much better-looking healing ankles.

Within half an hour of turning on the computer, an immediate problem with CorelDraw arose, followed by the arrival of the Iceland order. The driver took the bags through to the kitchenette for me. Two items for the freezer. Chip Shop Chips and a ready meal. Can you guess what the frozen meal was by looking at this snap? Some food for the fridge.
Then the tea cupboard. I won’t have time to do it right now, but I hope to separate all the different tea bags and put them in containers. A big job now. I’ve got Ty-Phoo extra strong tea bags, Ty-Phoo ordinary, and Tetley Extra Strong, late in the week. I have some cheap tea bags coming. It’s going to be a big job; I might not have enough room in the cupboard. I got rather carried away yet again.
I made a mug of proper tea and got back to the CorelDraw programme.

MYSTERY
I was resetting some default settings, and it was as if I’d blinked. I’d obviously been making error after error with CoralDraw, but don’t think it was seizure after effect, cause I might have been suffering with a loss of balance, but was clear-headed enough to realise vaguely that I may have had an order from Iceland. Yet the only thing I recall was struggling to get the tea into the cupboard; nothing else about the delivery. Yet I’d written it on the notepad?

THEN ANOTHER LONG SEIZURE
During which, as far as I could tell, I did absolutely nothing. After this, it was a guesstimate – about an hour. I came back into reality, sat on the four-wheeled walker on the balcony, with the sun shining in my eyes and making me virtually blind. Glady Glaucoma does not like sunshine. It took me a long time to get my vision back to near normal.
But this time, no severe loss of balance. A Carer thinks there must be different things causing different seizures. It could, I suppose, be FND, Peripheral Neuropathy, Dementia Doreen, or something new?

Better get a meal started.
Frozen meal, beef in black sauce, with added Lung Po and Mixed Vegetable pickle, and Marmite stirred in before cooking. Then some Chip Shop Chips were done in the oven and added.
I may not try this again. Wednesday saw five trips to the Porcelain Throne, with me being late on the third visit.

Lovely evening shot from the kitchen window.
The sun had just vanished from the horizon.

I consulted Google AI earlier.
About the mystery blank I had.
This was AI’s reply.
Transient Global Amnesia (TGA): A temporary condition involving sudden memory loss and confusion, or another serious issue like a head injury, stroke, or seizure. It is crucial to consult a healthcare professional to determine the cause and receive appropriate treatment. So, I did.
I got an appointment at the Doctor’s in five weeks. Crucial? Did Google AI fib?
Or, the Doctor ignore me?
No treatment was offered.

TAKETH CARE & KEEPETH SAFE