Inchcock Today: Monday 6th June 2022, Diary & Ode

Monday 6th June 2022

 Odes to Sanity Part 23⅛th

Being uneducated, I turned to intuitioning…
To replace my lack of logic and reasoning,
Judgements were instantaneous, with no conscious thinking!
No abductiveness, abstracting or even reasoning…
But I had a flair somehow for conceptual thinking?

I was prepared to tackle problems, if nonintimidating,
Usually, I’d end up morbidly confused and panicking,
Thought Storms, I found myself cathecting…
Often ending with my fearing and self-blaming,
Doreen Dementure started visiting; she’s beyond taming!

Finding you’ve missed or got something wrong; is excruciating!
Yet still, when I stray of a topic to start witwantoning…
Searching, no doubt, for comforting, consoling…
To find someone who can help, and be approbating…
A Doctor mayhaps, who is not so abrogating…
But I’m still here alone… and waiting!

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

MONDAY DIARY

Due to my working well into the morning on yesterday’s blog, I didn’t wake up until 07:15hrs. A good job; the Carer didn’t come early cause I’d left the door locked. So, although still in a haze, I had to force my way free of the £300 second-hand, decrepit, c1968, rickety recliner, and get a wash and shave, then dressed. I remembered to unlock the door first.

Despite my rushing, I remembered that I had the J Sainsbury order arriving twixt 8> and 9:00hrs. I didn’t get a single cut shaving and no teeth bleeding (but that was because I forgot to clean the teeth, Hahaha!) I did manage a stubbed toe and a few dropsies.

I got the blood pressures etc., done quickly as I could. Great figures returned, bearing in mind I was hastily hobbling around after getting up so late, trying to get the Health Checks done before the Carer or Delivery arrived. My body temperature was well down, surprising as I was almost sweating with all the rushing about what I was doing? Hey-Ho!

Well gone 08:00hrs and Carer Richard arrived. He was obviously not going to be able to have a chinwag and check the medications in the drawer as he usually does on a Monday because the poor lad had got three extra calls given him for this morning! I slipped him a bottle and a nibble plonk & chocolates in a bag. I make up a bottle of spring water and ass some orange cordial to it and bang it in the fridge to cool for him each day if he comes; nice chap, but under pressure this morning. He still oversaw me as I took the medications; some didn’t even do that. Wishing him good luck, he took the waste bag on his way out. Bless his cotton socks.

At last, I got the kettle on and took some photographs from the balcony.

In the first photo, RVM (Red-Van-Man) in his favourite No Parking, yellow hatched markings. Raining a fair bit!

I noticed some activity, as a silver car arrived and went to park in between the grey and blue vehicles on Chestnut Ways car park. Then backed out again and went down to the end car park (RDM’s area).

And parked opposite RVM, a lot nearer to the entrance. I spotted the deluge of muddy rainwater in the car park as it hurled down the hill in Woodthorpe Grange Park. Can’t blame them as the rain seemed to be coming heavier now.

I went to wash the tea mug as I took this shot from the kitchenette window. Cunningly knocking over the kitchen tools stand as I did so! Another mess to sort out! I think it’s the first time I’ve handled the baster and quick as I picked them up with the picker-upperer since I bought the set. Hehehe! That was donkey’s years ago.

The intercom flashed, and I admitted the J Sainsbury delivery lad. Who threw the food into the boxes, with the bunch of roses going in at the bottom of the box! (I found out later). Tsk! I rescued the flowers and put them in the trolley walker basket to keep them from harm. Can you see the expression on the orange carrier bag handles? ‘The Scream?’ Hahaha!

I got the bows and bags emptied and sorted into various places. Starting with the fridge and freezer products. I’d made a cock-up with the battered Fish & Chips; I thought I’d just ordered chips? I’d also forgotten that I’d got the vegetarian ice cream ordered from JS and have ordered more now from Iceland for tomorrow; what a plonker! Humph! Glad to see they had some more of the Squid Sauce, which is actually liquid salt made from anchovies, and most tasty too! I’ll try to eat stuff from the freezer today to make room for new ones.

I’d got two boxes of four lemon curd bakes, one for Richard. The freshly podded garden peas had gone up in price by a whopping 30%. Boo! And no country of origin on the packet! So, I do not know what to expect tastewise. The Nicaraguan ones can be bitter and unpleasant. Like the last ones bought, they should be sweeter if they are from Peru. As were the Chilean ones last week.

Another of the instant, phooey, watery evacuations. I tried to take a photo of the much improved looking ankles and plates of meat… but as you can see by the image on the right, it was not a good one. That was due to Peripheral Pete and his neurotransmitter failure, creating another intentional leg flailing dance routine. Why, you ask? I hope… I actually took several photographs, but this one was the only one worth using.
What’s more, this dance went on for a long time, which is rare and worrying. I got a bruise or two hitting the porcelain and cabinets with the leg. I’ll have an investigation later to see what shape it’s left the poor old leg is in.  I must have put them in the wrong setting. Maybe turned the selector too far of not enough?

Hehe! I got a bag on the trolley walker with the roses in, with some drinkies and phoned Deana to tell her they had arrived as treats in thanks. She said she’ll call later, but things can get hectic in a flash for the wardens, all of us old farts that need to keep an eye on.

I got the three small waste bags made up from the delivery rubbish, grabbed metal Micky and went to the door to go to the chute. Drilling noises permeated through the flat. I assumed the workmen were back doing the electrical repairs or updates in the lift lobby. So, I took the Canon camera with me. I could see the wiring hanging down from the ceiling tiles, and the fire door was wedged open; and made my way out of the flat lobby into the lift lobby. I greeted the workmen with a cheery “Morning, lads!” I think I might have just gone into invisible mode at that moment.

I hobbled around the tools, tiles and wires on the lobby floor, and I got to the waste chute room. Dropped the bags down the chute and was back out in no time. All without any trapped or knocked fingers, leg-dances, shakes or walking into anything.

Back in the lift lobby, all the rubbish on the floor had quickly been removed, and there were no signs of untalkative gentlemen anywhere.

Back in the flat, I decided to have an early meal. My aboulomania and pathological indecisiveness reigned. Of course, it took me ages dithering about what to have. Eventually, despite Dementia Doreen, I remembered I wanted to use up some frozen foods today to make room for the superb-tasting NoBull ice cream I’ve ordered from Iceland for tomorrow’s delivery.

I oven cooked a massive amount of chips (fries), to clear a bit of room in the freezer, as you can see. Hehe! I ate far too much. All my good work on the dieting over the last week meant nothing, as I feasted, licking my lips and feeling very guilty!

Taste-Report: The imitation fish sticks were tasty. The imitation smoked kippers in a vegetable sauce were super! The chips and tomatoes were excellent! The unknown origin shelled peas were disappointing. So, the plate of food gets an 8.2/10 Flavour-Rating!

The J Sainsbury cheese twist, and the sourdough bread, were both dry, bland and hard. So neither got eaten entirely. Eurgh! Shame! A score of 3/10 for them. I just thought I’d remind you of the new Sainsbury’s slogan they have adopted. Grangleturds!

Got the washing up done, and a Meridian supervisor came to do a Customer Satisfaction review. I had to be honest with her. Treated her to a choice of nibbles afterwards, though. Dean arrived at almost the same time to collect her treats. I think it’s three or four weeks now before her wedding. She said she particularly liked yellow roses. She took the bag of goodies, and I even remembered to add the strawberries from the fridge.

2: The moment the Meridian gal left… l had to make a swift as was possible hobble to the wet room! It was a close call again! No pushing required, down… splash-splurt; all done in seconds! Med Dioctyl ACleaned up and washed, then took another Dioctyl poo-softener… I’ll start taking them one a day henceforth until they run out, or Trotsky Terrence loses his winning streak over Constipation Konrad! I must remember to ask Carer Richard to read the use-by date on the pot in the morning. I think cataract Kathleen is making my sight a little worse each day.

I got the pot of vegetarian ice cream that I got from JS, and I had a few big spoonfuls. Compared to the No-Moo one from Iceland, it was whiter but too sweet (I’ll still eat it, though, Hehe!) Costlier too! The No-Moo one was yellower, not so well packed and tasted less sugary, which suited me more than the JS one. Especially as these ones coming tomorrow were on offer. From £2.50 down to £1.50! Definitely, a case of and a tasty treat discovered!

I nodded off, emptied bowl on my belly, in the second-hand, £300, charity shop-bought, gungy beige coloured, rickety, c1968 recliner. It was bliss while it lasted, but it only lasted for ten minutes, as the ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ tune burst forth from the door chime.

It was Sarah… or Samantha maybe? She got the medications sorted, but did not check as I took them for any dropped or regurgitated ones. So much for my mentioning this earlier. But she’s a good gal. No treats were accepted this time. Bless her!

I made up some Spring Water bottles, one with lime, one orange and the small one with lemon & lime. I do live well!

At 20:25hrs, I got restarted the WP and got back on Monday’s blog updating. Getting the latest photos uploaded first. So many were not useable, I had no idea I was shaking so much, and somehow a lot of them were lost. A

I got as far as here, and I went on the WordPress Comments. That took longer than I thought it would, nearly midnight now and the eyes are making things hard with the keyboard and screen.

00:15hrs now. No, I’ll have to stop.

TTFN each! 💜

Inchcocks Tuesday 31st May 2022 – With Ode

ODE to MEMORIES

♫ Memories are made of this… ♫

Memories I have of sweets costing a farthing!
Getting skin cancer through over-sunbathing,…
I had sex once when I was thirtysomething…
Being six, Mam ran away, and I learnt snogging,
Christine, her name, I was her plaything!

Skidmarks on my unwashed underclothing.
Trying my hand as a pugilist, boxing…
I never won a bout; I was constantly losing…
So tried the sports club amateur wrestling,
Just one fight, it left me frothing and bleeding,

Years later, I tried my hand at WordPressing,
Got dementia. It is very depressing…
Worked in security, tried a spot of sleuthing,
Caught a crook once; he was very scathing,
He was found not guilty; I was seething!

I went undercover pretending to be birdwatching…
Dressed in camouflage, green and brown clothing…
Binoculars to hand, RT and truncheon packing…
Fell out of the tree as I suspect, watching…
Lost my job; it was gutwrenching!

Realising how bad I was at odes & blogging,
When I was getting on a bit, seventysomething,
I had a period of deep thoughts and soulsearching,
Seeking whatever, a reason to carry on trying…
Now I’m approaching the time for dying…
Oddly enough, there’s no crying, just a bit of sighing!

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

TUESDAY 31st MAY 2022

05:10hrs: After yet another horrendous night of shooting awake, nodding off and bursting back into ersatz life, I gave up; I needed a wee-wee, anyway. But that in itself was a nightmare… well, morning mare!

The regular of late, trickling, waiting and whistling, was followed by an even more extended period of dribbling! At least by taking my time and making sure that things had stopped, I avoided any splashing of the furniture, carpet or my body parts.

I started the sphygmomanometerisationing. BP first, with satisfactory results, as you can see here on the left. A smidge high, but nothing compared to many of last week’s figures for the SYS, at 149, DIA 74, and Pulse 78bpm. Very good! The Chinese (Hong Kong) was built by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, was still showing low. Compared to the target set by the hospital, of 35°c, at 33.7°c. But no worries!

I made up a waste bag and then went to the wet room to check out the feet and ankles that I found affecting my balance and hurting me a smidgeon.

I dug out yesterday’s photo of the pins to compare it with today’s (top).

Quite a change? The DVT and old ankle blotch had gone all artistic and more pronounced. Which is what the pains did as the day developed. They have not been this bad for months? Then I got the kettle on but didn’t get to make a brew as the innards summoned me back to the wet room.

Once again, the motion was reluctant to start moving. So, I had a go at the crossword book, a different one, as the previous one had got me struggling. Got a couple of answers in, and the sludge started coming! I can’t recall ever having a more gooey sticky, pongy evacuation than this was! Half a new toilet roll later, I started the mammoth task of cleaning up. Had a wash, got dressed, and went back to the kitchenette.

Made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana, and got some photos uploaded to CorelDraw, then the computer. Got the Monday blog updated; it took me a long time. During which the feet started stinging even when I was sat down. What’s going off down there?

Carer Richard arrived. The lad didn’t look too good. So I launched some humour at him, to which he responded well. As he got the medications to me, the poor chap started sneezing and coughing, and he was sweating so much! Not that that stopped him for long, he even showed me how to get the Grammarly extension, not to give corrections for sentence building. Unfortunately, it stopped Grammarly from working at all! Hehehe! I laughed because we got it back on and laughed about it. (Phew!) Richard didn’t look any better when he departed, but I think he was a little happier. I hope he is not coming down with any illness. Fingers crossed that he’ll be back tomorrow and feeling better. I got the Monday blog post done last, and the Morrison delivery arrived.

The delivery person brought up the flowers first, so he didn’t damage them, and he went down to the other bags; that was kind of him. These are for the Wardens. He fetched the different parcels, and I got them into the kitchen.

Got the things stored away. There is no frozen today; the freezer would struggle to get a biro or single fruit gum in. At least I got some of the battered chips, not the ones I wanted, but the last ones tasted nice enough. They substituted for battered onions with a tray of mashed turnips? Still, they’ll do for me. The bananas almost made me feel guilty! They looked like a set of parents with their children. Alright, so I’m a little weird at times! It has to be admitted, I fear. My travel into loony-land is taking on a little speed lately. Hehehe!

Cleaner Esther arrived. Talking all the time, picking fault with me not getting out for some exercise… then she took the laundry down to get done. I missed most of what she said. But, I did pick up on my ordering too much food. I’ve long stopped bothering to explain things to her. Hehehe!

I took Morrison’s Amazon food delivery wrappers to the waste chute. The fire door was wedged open into and from the flat’s lobby area. Some work of some sort was taking place. The lighting of some sort, I believe.

I limped (the flipping feet are getting even more painful now?) down through the lift lobby and to the waste room door at the end to the left.

I partly trapped my knuckle in the cast iron lid as I shoved the bags into the chute. Nothing new; I’m becoming something of an expert in doing this!

Back to the flat lobby and through into 72 Woodthorpe Court single apartment. Well, I would; I live there. Hahaha! I may be losing it again here?

I got some Facebooking done and the WordPress reading. Later, got the oven warming up for the nosh, specifically the battered chips.

Esther returned with the washing, all done. Oh, the tongue lashing I suffered. I’ve no idea what they were about, mind you. But they flowed at me without relenting or relaxing for a good few minutes. Deafness can have its advantages. Hehe!

I’ll get the meal started, and then, if I don’t fall asleep, try to get the top Ode-making started. Got the beer-battered chips in the oven and got some WordPress comments answered, then went to check the ovens in the chips… or even the chips in the oven.

Enjoyed this plateful immensely. Especially the beer-battered chips. And soft bloomer sliced bread.

A Taste-rating of 8/10 was given. Then, as I had failed to get any desserts with the food order (my fault, Doreen Dementia’s), I guiltily had one of the baby bananas. You can see how small they were here. Tasty lovely. I’m not sure, but I might have heard it crying as I bit into it! Hahaha!

Washed the pots up. And then proceeded to drop the washing-up liquid bottle to the floor via my right toes. What a mess! Got it sorted out and just finished it.

♫ Oh, Susana ♫ rang out, and in came the Evening Carer. Well, Carers, mob-handed. Hehehe! They got the medications sorted, and we had a three-way natter for a couple of minutes, and off they went. Bless ’em.

I got the TV turned on, and there was no reception at all? Mayhaps the electricians, needed to turn off some connection to get done whatever they were doing? So, I put in a Heartbeat DVD to watch. The message came up No DVD inserted! Oh!

I reset the Freeview system. But only a third at most of the channels were loaded, and all West Midlands? So, reset again, picking the ‘All’ option. This time it came up and seemed to be working. But the DVD wasn’t having it! Humph!

I could see the sky’s colour changing through the paper-thin curtains. And nipped out to take a photo of the unique cloud and sky colouring. Not the brightest I’ve seen by a long shot, but I thought it was an awe-inspiring bit of nature.

Fifteen minutes later, the glow of the sun’s setting permeated the room, and I hobbled into the kitchenette. To take this picture. Another masterpiece of nature. I’m so glad I didn’t fall asleep now. But soo regretted thinking this.

The sixth night on the trot of being unable to get to sleep. Couldn’t read a book, thanks to cataracts, glaucoma and saccades. Put the TV on but could not hear it or read the subtitles easily. But kept springing awake again, seemingly every five minutes or so. After perhaps twenty jump-awakes on the 21st, I gave up and rose onto my feet for a wee-wee. It was hard work and well gone midnight before I drifted off…

Morning all!

Inchcock’s Diary, with Memories and an Ode

What happened to Inchcock on this day, in 1953?

On his way home from the getting some cows heel and tripe for his Dad. As he was crossing the canal on the bridge on Wilford Street. A gang of teenage Herberts lifted him and unceremoniously threw him off the bridge into the canal! Being about six years of age, scared to death of water, and unable to swim (His fear was life-long, he still can’t). He struggled to grab hold of a barge rope hanging over the side of the boat but lost his grip, he got cold, and his fingers were not big enough to hold on… As he sank into the water, a pair of strong hands from a bloke in a rowing boat dragged him out and took him home. Where his father knocked the hell out of him for losing the tripe and cow heel, pointing out that the 2/6d (12.5p) cost would come out of his pocket money! Which baffled the lad a bit cause he never did get any pocket money from his Dad in his life?

SUNDAY 15th MAY 2022

05:15hrs, I begrudgingly woke and awaited the brain to join me. Which it did, with the message that I needed a wee-wee. I freed my cumbersomely large bellied body from the £300 second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable, unfit-for-use, not working recliner. NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) took me a while due to the vast amount of  PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling).

Dizzy Dennis kept going at me all morning long in short bursts. I got the waste bag sorted out and started prepping the veg to go in with Josies Chilli meal. Chopped leeks, carrots and peas.

Opened the can of Chilli and started adding the cooked vegetables. Put them in the saucepan and add squid vinegar (liquid salt), chilli powder, Worcester sauce, and malt vinegar. After testing the flavour, I can add gravy salts and tomato puree with basil.

Herbert is noisy again. Bloody Sundays and weekends, he’s always the same!

I visited the Porcelain Throne. A good job that the carer was so late because I must have been in the half-an-hour at least. Most of the time was spent cleaning and clearing up. Trotsky Terence was in charge again. You wouldn’t believe the amount of loo roll used! Tsk!

Got a good wash and showering done, I felt a bit better then. Coming out of the wet room, I got through the door, and by the fairer without a knock, shoulder slamming or toe stubbing.

A new carer came in without ringing the buzzer-chime, and of course, I didn’t hear her coming. Sarah, she’s not been before. Nice gal, but she didn’t take the waste bag with her, no problem. I can do that later with the next one to go. No problemo! Well, as long as Vascular Dementia Doreen lets me remember. Hehehe!

The photos went on through the card reader!!!! So I got the old ones on. Yesterday one here first. The state of the ankles as I came out from the shower yesterday. Not painful nor itchy, although they did later.

These on the right are what they looked like after this morning’s session at ablutioning. Not any different, really. Or are they, and Cataract Kathleen has missed something?

A morning photographicalisation from the kitchenette next. The bright sunshine on my face made it impossible to take a good one.

My evening, well, was the only meal of the day. Potato slices baked, tomatoes, crap tasting sugar snap peas. And gorgeous mushroom pate on a couple of baps. Taste Rating: 8.8/10!

These two were taken with a sort of foggy haze in the air. After seeing them, I thought they had a kind of gentle quality to them. That’s not what I mean, but as close to what I can explain. Peaceful, tranquil, they made me feel free from strife… of course, that didn’t last for long. But a good sensation while it lasted… I’m now awaiting the arrival of the next Whoopsiedangleplop. I pressed on with updating and posting the Saturday bog to WordPress. The Facebooking, WP Reader, and some WP comments are to read and reply to.

Herbert’s cacophony of banging, clanging and grinding noises continues.

A wee-wee, and back to the photos. I took this shot from the balcony. RVD (Red-Van-Man) is back, but the small red car has taken up his beloved parking spot on the yellow no-parking lines. Hahaha!

Time to start checking on and serving up Josie’s nosh now. On my way to the kitchen, ♫Oh, Susan♫ chimed out from the doorbell? Josie came to tell me that she was going out to a restaurant with her sister and didn’t need the meal! Well, blow me, fancy letting me know half an hour before I deliver the meal! But let’s face it, it’s much better than five minutes. Hehehe!

She said she could collect it tonight on her way home. So, I said I’ll put it in a big jar to let it cool, then you can place the container into your fridge; that’ll be two chillies to use later on. Josie added, “She’s (Her sister) has only just called me to let me know”.

Herbert just dropped something this time; it sounded heavy. I gave him a gentle tap on the piping with my walking stick. Not that it will do anything to help me get some peace. He is the most equanimous, unforthcoming, stand-offish person I’ve ever met. Superior Shithouse!

“Clunk, thud, ratattattatat!” That serves me right for getting annoyed. Then I kept getting scratching-like and knocking noises. I’m so sorry, Sir Herbert!

Two chilli meals in the container and some treats for Josie when she gets back from the meal with her Sister at the restaurant. I’ll get mine (meal) started now, then see if owt is on the TV cause the computer problems are driving me mad! (Of course, there are many other reasons, Haha!)

I put the potatoes and vegetarian burger in the oven, peas in the pan, chopped some mini tomatoes and got the TV on for half an hour while the burger and spuds baked. And put the TV on. To find the Ladies Cup Final was showing, and I got deeply into it, so interested that I forgot all about the cooking!

I fumbled out of the £300 second-hand, decrepit, c1968 recliner, got Walter the Wooden Walking Stick, and into the kitchenette. I nervously opened the oven door… The ‘bake for 30 minutes’ food had been in for nearly an hour!

The breadcrumbed veggie burger did not look appealing at all. It felt very hard. As expected, the potatoes were overdone; some of them, the smaller ones, were inedible and had to be thrown. Yet I ate all of it! Enjoyed it too! The burgers left in the fridge will get overcooked; it was firm and delicious! The spuds were tough to eat, and no doubt damaged a few of my remaining teeth, but it all tasted grand! Flavour Rating: 8/10! I hope Duodenal Donald and Harold’s Haemmorhoids can cope with it, and I get no toothache! Hahaha!

Cara Sara arrived, again not ringing the chime and giving me a shock when she entered the room. But a lovely surprise, she is tall, young, beautiful and charming. (Dang to old age! Har-har!)

Sweet Morpheus was again resistant to my requests for shut-eye! But, when he permitted me to nod off, I slept through without any jolting awakes for just under six hours! Great!

Friends Comments when I got shot (First-Time)

“Oh, yer?” An old schoolmate by the name of Elgin,
“Could ‘ave been anyone!” fellow security officer Kathryn,
“Tell me another!” My neighbour in Sherwood, Glyn,
“Shit!” I forget his name, Welsh lad from Abergynolwyn,
“Serves yer right!” The supervisor at control called Kelvin,
“Why?” An old passion of mine, a big gal named Roslyn,
“I wunt du yoor job!” Traffic Warden, called Edwin,
“Tommy rot, yer tit!” Richard, but we called him Dick Turpin,
“Will yer be off work?” Manager, we all called him Fagin!
From the hospital, they sent me back to the site again…
“Can yer drive yersen there, course you can!”… Fagin!
“You can’t claim off of us!” Site manager, on arriving…

Evening All!

Inchcocks Local News Snippets – Issue 44⅘ths

Mud Gorning

I’d just like to explain to you what happened. I thought I’d try it in odes, but after writing the poem below and reading it, that was maybe not such a good idea. So, I’ll tell yers, abarght wot happened:

Ocado had no ~Heinz burgers in stock again, so I ordered some frozen ones from Iceland to try. Which I did and got them cooked for the suggested length of time. And them to some baked beans in the bowl…

Not one of my des photographicalisations, I grant you. On top of the beans are the two ‘NoBull’ veggieburgers. They didn’t taste anywhere as lovely as the Heinz ones, but beggars can’t be choosers. I git into them and dipped the sourdough bread in the baked seasoned beans; I thought all was very passable… An odd choice of words, considering what was to follow…

This morning, I stirred around 04:00hrs, and a sort of gurgling from my innards caught my attention. No sooner had I got to my feet to catch my balance than it became clear that I needed to make way to the wet room and Porcelain Throne as a matter of some urgency. Which I did.

The evacuated torpedo was a little softer, although a lot larger than yesterday’s, but still not messy… painful, yes! Things needed a little cleaning up, and I used the Germolene on my rear end.

Back out and to the kitchen, tittivated around the kitchenette sink area, and made a brew of Thompson Punjana tea. I went back to the front room and got the computer on… And needed to hasten back to the Porcelain Throne again. ♫It’s not unusual to pass twice ♫ for me. I was surprised when I got down on the seat; the speed and splattering sound as the mish-mash landed. A lot of cleaning up was needed this time. Washed and back to the computer.

An hour later, session three was taken. Very watery, stinky and a lot of it. Where was it coming from? Why?

Another hour and trip number four was then needed. This time, embarrassment and shame… As I was whipping down the trousers, things started of their own accord and all (nearly) liquid! What a mess!!!

The morning carer arrived, and I hoped she could smell nothing; she didn’t say owt anyway, bless her. As she left, call number five started; I was not hesitating at all, and stubbed my toe, then hit my shoulder on the door to the wet room in my haste going in. I barely made it in time. At least there was not so much of it by now; there can’t be anything left there?

An hour or so later, I found there was something left in there, all liquid. There’s something oddly disturbing about sitting there expecting a torpedo, and all one can hear is liquid shooting into the water.

Summoning number six had a bit of body, and there was much less evacuated. Also, some of the real stuff (brown… well, no, more khaki, really, trickled out – so new PPs were used again. More cleaning and medicating, and back to the computer.

Number seven was short but not sweet! The splattering of some mud had to be cleaned up, and Germolening of the poor painful piles!

The last one, number eight (an hour ago), was noisy and back to the liquid format?  Since then, no signs of the Throne being needed, but the wee-weeing has gone crazy suddenly?

Sorry, I just needed to tell someone.

ODE TO THE DAY

To listen to the radio, I need a headphone…
Can’t hear anyone when they speak on the phone,
I’m passing wind, sounds like a trombone?
The innards are churning like it was a battle zone…
Then came my first visit to the Porcelain Throne…

It was reluctant, the torpedo as hard as a stone!
Seven hours later, I need a medical arbiter…
Eight more visits, nine in total, stomach still aflutter!
The last two evacuated more as water…
My bum is sore, daren’t eat… I’ve felt a lot better…
It brewing inside again; will it ever settle?
So, should I snuff it and die, lackaday!

Remember veggie-burgers, and stay away…
Resist eating them; I ate two NoBull ones yesterday…
I shan’t be eating anymore anyway…
Pain and queasy feelings of dismay,
I may get over it, I dare say, someway…
But I do feel grotty and giddy,
Now there are bouts of going dizzy…
I’ll do my best to press on anyway,
I’ve the door wide open for a quick getaway…
Crap-it, I need another one, instantly…

Was that the ninth or tenth? I flowed cruelly…
Far less this time, or am I getting delusory?
Or should word have been delusionally?
I feel hungry but dare not try owt gastronomically!
More food, make affects the innards to react harmfully?
Making me rush to the Throne more frantically?
I feel lethargic; the knees feel like jelly?
Surely the shits like these will be temporary?

I said this ten craps ago,
What to do? I don’t know…
I’m bent forward, really low,
Must look like Quasimodo?
I speak, it sounds like Esperanto?
Even my thoughts are akimbo…
Is it safe to eat dry bread or sourdough?

The Trotskies seem like they’ve lasted for an eternity?
They could drive me back to drinking whisky…
Oh, better not, with the stomach so empty…
I’m in pain, and dizzy, aching… no, really!
Each evacuation today has shown consistency…
I pray the next one will not show urgency…
Or I’ll have to make a long-distance delivery – Hehehe!

ON WITH THE LOCAL NEWS SNIPPETS!

Treating it as a hate crime? Why? Yes, it is a hate crime, but why draw attention to it? Unless the scumbags can be prosecuted to a greater degree for hate crimes than any other, I’m all for it!

Another hate crime? What’s going on? I hope the poor devils coming to the UK, running from Putin’s bullies, don’t get such a welcome!

I assume from the facts as I read last week that Nottingham has more students pro-rater than any other City. Indeed, that has been taken into consideration… or has it?

Same comment as above?

So, virtually attempting to murder police officers, endangering members of the public, and he gets 12 months in prison? Grrr! The namby-pamby legal system is no deterrent at all. He’ll likely still get his drugs and booze sneaked in by his friends…

I wonder if Russia can offer them any jobs?

That should be knife found, another cock-up!

I am not complaining about Van Der Merwe getting a decent sentence, but so should Barrass! Four years and eight months. I concur with this sharp sentence. But why do attempted murderers and the Barrass above get one year for trying to kill police officers and putting the lives of the innocent at risk? Not to mention his drug offences, stabbing, firearms and woman battering qualities?

Price must be laughing his head off! 18 Months of Community order? What’s that, then? 80hrs of unpaid work?

A bit embarrassing that!

Parole Board members… don’t forget to give him full remission!

Sad.

If it’s true, fair enough!

Well done to the private group who caught him!

Angeringly sad.

Bit of decent speedy job done there by the police!

Keeping my determination not to win!

LATE EXTRA!

Trust is something we do all the time without thinking. Doctors (Harold Shipman), Nurses (Beverley Allitt), and policemen (Wayne Couzens) are professionals that we rely on, trust! We can guarantee that the Parole Board will release convicted murderers to kill again! The facts are, we can never know for sure…

Ending on a personal note…

I’ve found the legend for the local postcode crime map.

Pink: Theft from a person
Dark Pink: Shoplifting
Dark Grey: Vehicle Crime
Light Grey: Violence & Sexual Offence
Light Green: Other crime
Dark Green: Drugs
Mid Blue: Antisocial
Light Blue: Bicycle theft
Orange: Burglary
Mustard: Possession of a weapon
Teal: Public order
Greeny-Blue: Public order.

Bearing in mind along with the Cataracts, Glaucoma, and Saccades, I also have achromatopsia (colour blindness), my choice of colours may not be of much help. Tsk!

A lot less crime in my area this time. But I know that the youths breaking into my flat did not make it onto the map? How many others are missing?

Inchcock Today – Memories Evoked + Odes

Looking at an old photograph can stir memories, even in some Doreen Dementia suffers, like I am. So here are my initial ruminations of looking at this picture… They may come over as a little out of sync, but one’s thought triggers another. I had to be adding them than before I wrote what I was doing… then I forgot what I had started typing. Sometimes remembering later, begin to correct things, and another unrelated memory pops up… to be forgotten about again. Later on, I got all confused but carried on anyway. Sorry about this.

This now embarrassing, brownie-camera photographicalisation shows the signs of authentic poverty in which I grew up. Although, at the time, I believed we were luckier than some of the residents of Brookfield Place. But not many.

Obviously, I was scrubbed up using carbolic soap. I was redressed into pants that didn’t fit; the crumbling walls on the 1899-built two-up, two-down terraced house make me cringe when I see it now. See that? I was nine house bricks high at the time. Not much taller now!

Having a photo taken was an event in those days. I believe Mr Wright, whose family lived at the end of the small terrace, number 10 (I might be wrong, of course). Mr Wright was the only person nearby who was well off enough to own a camera then and generously took pictures and got them developed and given to those in them. A wonderful man.

Christine. Mr Wright and Jane are on holiday in Mablethorpe! I recall feeding the family dog Rover (No pets were allowed on the caravan site in those days.) each time Mr, Mrs Wright, and daughter Christine went on holiday, taking Sister Jane with them; after Jane returned home, I’d better explain that while I think of it.

A better-off side of the family, with five boys, wanted to adopt Sister Jane. Dad opposed this, the fights started, and it was agreed that Jane would of out to Italy with the family. Which left me thinking, Jane was ‘out there’ having a ball, while I was left with Dad (Mother had done another runner from the police). Had to do the cooking and what cleaning I could family. Clean out and set the fire but did not start it until I saw Dad coming home. He thought it was overspending to make a fie for only one person. Give him his dinner, and get the things ready for the morning in the coal house ready for clearing out and resetting again in the morning. So, the crux of it was; that I was a smidge jealous, thinking that Jane was out there, in the sunshine, wanting for nothing, living the life of Riley… While Jane was ‘over there’ thinking that I was at home, living the life of Riley! Hahaha! In truth, poor Jane was miserable and had it a lot worse than me! She was molested, had to be a maid to the boys… When we found out we were both miserable, we had to laugh. As I understand it, each of the lads, who are now men, has been arrested and found guilty of various nefarious offences. Worra family!

Recollections of the folks living near my beloved Brookfield Place came to mind.

From the left, Sister Janet, Inchcock, Christine Wright, Mrs Wright and Walter. Can’t remember what we were doing or where we were when taking the snap. Either Mr Wright to son Brian would have taken it?

This picture, I do remember having being taken. A Door-knock photographer took it (2/3d a photo 11p in today’s money). Not cheap! The rather distinguished-looking (I don’t know how or why I remembered that?) cameraman said it’s usual to have a girl and boys toy in hand. I recall Jame going up to get her teddy from the bedroom, and I nipped next door to borrow a ball from my mate Jack. On my behalf, returning to have the picture taken. But putting on that forced smile was almost painful for me. Har-har!

A terrible picture of my blonde locks. This brings a scary memory back to me. Often I would be in the backyard. Our house was about eight-foot from a railway viaduct. On the left in the top photo) I would be playing or chopping wood in the backyard and the train; it was a busy line, with Arkwright Street Station, high above the houses. We got goods, commuter and the London Express’s all passing throughout the day and night. The houses shook, the windows rattled, the light swayed…

Yet, they never woke me up or bothered me because I grew up with it. Later, when we moved to Ipswich Circus, it was so quiet that I couldn’t sleep for months! True!

I lost my plot there, didn’t I? Sorry, where was I?…

Oh, yes! In the backyard, a neighbour usually would run at me and start to beat me around the head. This is all genuine! I had to wait until they had stopped, to find out why they were clouting me… had I done something naughty (not unknown), or as it usually was, the hot ashes falling from the trains had set my hair on fire again. (Which, more often than not, was the case)

It’s not surprising that I started losing my hair at 20-years of age?

Christine Wright, in front of her house in Brookfield Place.

Not that Inchcock is creeping out behind her? Hehe!

I’ve no memory of this photograph being taken.

I think this one was taken in Wilford or West Bridgford.

Christine and Janet got me to pretend to be knocked over and lay under the Morris Ten car. Haha!

The next one, I can vaguely remember.

The hosepipe was out in the backyard. Fed through the window from Chrissie’s kitchen tap. It’s the summertime, and someone will get soaked, methinks… I vaguely remember grabbing the hosepipe in the cause of self-protection. When those two got together, there was always a danger of me being injured, embarrassed or molested! In this case, all three. And I got a good soaking, to boot!

♫ Memories are made of these… ♫

My family, as such, were Methodists, Wesleyan,
Dad rarely went to church; Mother was an Aryan…
We soon split up, first off to Sicily, went sister Jane,
Brother Pete joined the army to help keep sane…
Mother ran from the police, again and again…
So it was just Dad and me in the main!

Education and affluence, to me, were strange…
No class, I never heard of a counterpane…
Then, I had no bad habits from which to refrain.
As you’ll read above, I got set on fire by many a train,
I’d never dined out or been on holiday or on a jet plane…
I used to get bad headaches, not a posh migraine…
But life was never dull or mundane!

I soon learned that nothing in life is free or certain!
An outside toilet, in winter it froze up, even the chain!
The only interest in sex came from the Chaplain…
I never went abroad, to Italy, France or Bahrain,
Shopped at jumble sales in search of a bargain…
I was considered weird cause I didn’t like John Wayne!
My searches for romance were all in vain!

My hopes for my future were low and uncertain,
I’d sit in my flat, glumly looking out through the curtain,
Plans and designs were ruined cause of my scatterbrain,
At least I’ll never become part of Britain’s brain drain!
My sanity was fluctuateable and hard to retain…
Timourousness, trepidation, and a cruel self-disdain…
My confidence and self-esteem had been mislain!
Don’t suppose I’ll ever find them again?

Is my Alto-Ego me, or am I?
Why do I even wonder why?
Would I be happier as a troglodyte?
Would I still like Marmite?
I think I’m losing this brain fight…
My last driblets of sanity are taking flight…

I’ve tried to do moral things and not to be profane,
Up to now, I’ve avoided trying out cocaine,
From alcohol, greed and bullying, I abstain,
Yet feel my life is almost transmundane…
Are my thoughts really mine or nongermane?
Shit!… I’ve forgotten what I was going to write!

.

Inchcock’s Odes to Why?

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

WHY COVID?

Covid-19 and Sars-CoV-2, why they came, is what I’m thinking?
Government confused findings, need reabsorbing…
Pandemic and HMG hold a party, hobnobbing?
Annoyed me, so this Ode I’m now scribing…
Yet, to their rules, I’ve been acquiescing,
Two years now, since any Doctor interfacing,
Definites, the Government are sidestepping?
I feel like I’m permanently convalescing,
Anti-maskers are not exactly applauding…
Anti-vaccers protests showing no signs of concluding,
Jab or mask-wearing? Some are not deciding…
I follow the guidelines, but it can be confusing,
Doing what you can to protect others is frustrating,
Between the Do’s and the Don’ts, there’s bile offloading,
No give or understanding of others, compassion is subsiding,
Sarcasticness abounds, even where I am residing!

Coronavirus arrives, HMG problems beginning,
Changes meant more hassle, problems teething,
Proletariats, needing hopes strengthening,
Some vague chance of things improving…
New strains, deaths, started the mudslinging…
Ordinary voters started teeth-gnashing,
Anti-vaxxers and maskers began badmouthing,
But some uncaring folks just started shrugging,
Accusing HMG of ignorance and gross mismanaging,
The businesses set out to gain more profit – I’m seething!
Indeed, we should be encouraging, not rubbishing?

Official figures are baffling and misleading,
Dyscalculia makes it difficult in reading…
Have the Governments been Shanghaiing?
In favour of financing, from businesses and banking?
Are their advisors’ advising wrongly and failing?
Does their arriere-pensee to us need rethinking?
How do they stop the money-men from sabotaging?
The bankers, investors from profit-pocketing?
Indeed it’s impossible to stop them interfering and scavenging?

And, whatever’s happened to the political duelling?
No calls from Labour, as Kinnock would have been lambasting?
Lib-Dems are still about, are they? I’m just asking!
I think I worked it out; why is the silence blasting?
They both think, thank heavens, we are not ruling…
All this confusion, entangling… they’ve no idea of detangling,
So give Boris no bother, or at the subsequent voting…
The masses may vote for us, and we win… nonplussing!
The thought of us dealing with things is blood-curdling!
Labour in power, cause enough for frightful caterwauling!
Well, that’s enough of my HMG & Covid caterwauling,
Not such a good Ode, this one, it left me… Tsking!

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

WHY AM I SO UNLUCKY?

I’ll start with one event, the heart thing,
That was not unlucky; it did not leave me whining!
This operation saved my life… Else I’d have been missing…
The Hernia, Peripheral Neuropathy and Colin Cramping,
Cancer of the bladder, and stroke, and a lot of bemoaning. Hehe!

Being an unlucky sod can be so time-consuming,
Leaving very little time left for resting and vacuuming,
A Whoopsiedangleplop, maybe the Thought Storms brewing…
A memory loss, missed bus, lost keys or painful burping…
From near-deadly to a tap left running or finger burning,
Ailments, senility and old age means the end of by beep-bopping,
The worst is Vascular Dementia, the brain transitioning…

My diabetes and oedema cause much bother urinating,
Each morning, the feet will be either bloated or very thin,
It’s not so bad since I stopped doing my trampolining,
The tumbling or fallings is constantly threatening…

Neuropathy and Shaking Shoulder Shirley are disquietening!

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

I regularly get subconjunctival haemorrhaging,
Saccades and the new eye problems are definitely worrying,
Floaters, cataracts and glaucoma, almost frightening!
Everything taking longer to do, from the ablutioning…
Painful bending to retrieve dropped items can sting!
Oh, and evacuations on the Throne, and Wee-weeing!

I nearly always cut myself shaving,
Sometimes taking many minutes peeing…
Occasionally, taking only seconds at urine freeing!
The Porcelain Throne, often with evacuation misfunctioning.

Porcelain Throne options for me are; water-like spurting…
Which can be over like lighting!
Or resistant, rock-hard, and bloody,
Either or both are constantly hurting and agony!

Cleaning, me or the flat internally, is so burdening,
Seems nowadays to take an eternity, and much groaning,
Hardly any time for my beloved Word Pressing,
My confidence is egringolering…
My hearing is worsening…
Every task’s success is gimping!

The leaking blood through the plaster was bubbling!
But it was not at all troubling…
Cause actually, it made me do some laughing…
Which I found rather refreshing!

Inchcocks’ True Odes to Life Series

Inchcock’s Visit to Specsavers

What comes into your mind when you see the logo above?

I’d like to explain the two things that come into my mind, if you’ll bear with me, please… Thank you. Both with equal venom and hatred as the bearers of the sign.

1: DOMINIC CUMMINGS

First: Dominic Cummings. Who cheated all justice in not being prosecuted and sentenced for his stupid strip to Barnard Castle – but mainly his weak, pathetic, schoolboy excuse he came up with. That he expected us to believe. Or possibly his friends who know too much in the Government came up with? I hate the man! Well, his ridiculous actions anyway. Just thought I’d like to mention it!

On with the Tale Of Woe…

2: Two Specsavers

The NHS hearing aids had both broken for the same reason. The lady at the NHS audio clinic advised me that the tubes had not been cleaned properly. I pointed out my problems with Shaking Shaun, the Peripheral Neuropathy and Saccades affecting my sight. And asked if there are other models available that might be easier for me to disassemble, clean and reassemble?  A concrete No was the answer to that question. But I could see my Doctor, to see if anything was available…

At this point, I could not hold back my laughter at the thought of actually seeing my Doctor. “I’d love to see her, I thought!” The Audiologist told me that it would be about three weeks, at the earliest, before the aids were repaired. I thanked her and deafly made my way without the hearing aids, out into the rain; at least I couldn’t now hear the heavy raindrops hitting the hearing aids… well, I wouldn’t, would I? Haha!

Then, as I wobbled with the walker down the steep hill I’d climbed to get to the clinic, I had an epiphany… of sorts. Dang, I’ll not go on suffering and go to the nearest hearing aid place and get a cheap pair to get me over the waiting time for the repairs to be done. Not exactly one of betterer ideas at all!

Although I didn’t know it at the time, and, even more, the costly and frustrating choice was made… I know, I’ll go to Specsavers for them. Ay, aye, aye!

By the time I’d innocently battled m way to the store on Wheeler Gate, I was not in a sound condition. Out of puff, and with Dizzy Dennis giving a pasting, as I entered the store.

So, my concentration was not good, but unfortunately, it was ripe for me to be lied to, conned and overcharged.

The Greeting From The Snotbag on the Reception

As she turned from talking to a staff member behind her, her top lip curled as she saw me approaching. She gave me a look done and up before she spoke. Then, “Yes, can I help you?” emphasising you!

Me: “I wanted to talk with someone about buying some hearing aids?”

Snotbag: “For yourself, or someone else, I see you are not wearing any aids yourself; we cannot do tests unless…

Me, interrupting: “Yes, they are for me; not having any hearing aids in is why I’m here to spend my money on a new pair!” I think she was taken aback by a smidgeon with the curtness of my voice… She hesitated in answering, and I jumped in again, driving home my determination before it melted, with; “They are both broken and will take a while to get repaired, so if you cannot see me today, I’ll not bother you any more” Brave or what?

Snotbag: Now full covered, countered with showing a semi-smile and disgust at having to do so simultaneously: “I’ll contact the technician to see if he can make himself free to give you some time. If you’d like to look at spectacles frames while you wait?…” Spectacle frames? She’s already trying to sell me some new glasses?

She back in a few minutes, the hatred for me, had moulded into her beautiful face. Take a seat over there, waving her arm around. As I manoeuvred the trolley away, making sure not to knock into anything, her voice rang out in an admonishing, “Not there, at the end seats!” I think my smiling back at her got on her goat!

A few minutes later, a young chap, who was the Audiologist, came to me, and was very kind and patient with me, led me into a bit of room, got me sat down and said he had to go some treatment room but would be back shortly. My EQ told me to leave now… but, like the idiot I am, I didn’t listen to him!

While I waited for his return, l read and copied the Hearing Aid Prices from a poster on the wall:

Specsavers Advance Star: £495
No rechargeable option

Specsavers Advance Standard: $899
Rechargeable +£100

Signia Active: £995
Rechargeable (Standard)

Specsavers Advance Plus: $1,095
Rechargeable +£150

Specsavers Advance Premium: £1,395
Rechargeable +£100

Specsavers Advance Super: £1,695
Rechargeable +£100

Specsavers Advance Elite £1,995
Rechargeable +£300/+ £400

Signia Styletto 3X, AX £,995 (Rechargeable option only)
Phonak Paradise 70: £1,995
Phonak Marvel: £1,995
Signia 3 Xperience: £1,995
Signia 3 AX: £1,995

Rechargeable +£100/+ £200 Signia Styletto 7X, AX
Phonak Marvel 70
Phonak Paradise 70: £2.395 (includes titanium)
Phonak Paradise 70: £2.395
5 Xperience: £2.395

Phonak Marvel 90 (includes titanium)
Rechargeable +£100/+ £200 Signia Styletto, AX
Rechargeable +£100/+ £200 Signia Styletto 7X, AX
Phonak Paradise 90: £2,695
Signia 7 Xperience: £2,695
Signia 7 AX: £2,695

Rechargeable +£100/+ £200
Signia Styletto, AX: £2,895
Signia Active Pro: £2,895

I was thinking of an escape plan for when the Audiologist returned. But he arrived sooner than I anticipated; I git in quickly with: “The aids start at £495 on this list, is that the cheapest?” As he was looking at my NHS hearing report record. “Oh, no, they are some cheaper they do not advertise. He had a look in the earholes and said that the right one had the most compacted wax he’d ever seen before! I replied calmly, “Yes, all the first time audiologists say something like that each time”. He had a heck of a job in getting it out; it took him ages. Then he just had to leave the room to show a dollop of wax he’d got out to his colleagues, and two of them came back in the room with him to look into my right earhole???

Then, the great decision on which aids to buy. I asked which were the cheapest? £49.95, in the ear ones. “But they would not suffice for your needs!” And they have no volume control on them. “Oh!” That was my response. “What’s the next ones up?” £99.99, he said. “Would they suit me?” “Well, not really, but the next ones are the £499 ones.

“Oh, I see!” How long would they be getting made for me?” “The Specsavers Advance Star would take about three days!” I pondered a few seconds, thinking Star ones were the £99.99 ones, and thinking that was for the pair, agreed on then. Paperwork done, aids paid for, I returned to Snotbag on the desk.

Where I found that the £99.99 was for each aid. Also, they would take three weeks, not days, to arrive! What a farce! Conned Again! I’m very good at that, getting duped.

By the time the NHS aids were repaired, about five weeks later, I had gone to collect them and pick up the Specsavers ones afterwards.

Snotbag was not there that day, but she was amply substituted by Haughty-Hilda. The aids were tinny sounding, ill-fitting, unreliable, rubbish, junk, crap, ineffectual, impractical, and shoddy!

The moral of this little tale is, I think:

If you are naive, trusting, ingenuous, innocent, credulous, unworldly, deceivable, and childlike, you will be broke financially, vulnerable, exploitable, malleable, gullible, or mouldable. Also, half-witted, stupid, brainless, dense, or Inchcock-like… Do Not Go Anywhere Near Specsavers!

Part of the Inchcock’s Tips & Advice Series

Inchcock Today: Visited by Sister Jane & Hubby Pete

The spelling mistake in the header was made on purpose  – just to test you. Ahem!

Inchcock Today: Visited by Sister Jane & Hubby Pete

Gotten Himmel! Great balls of Fire! Blow me down with a feather duster! I had slept straight through, no NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) visits: For over six hours! The longest night with Sweet Morpheus for months – No waking up with any ailment pains… Bloody Fantastic!

Mind you, the brain was not too interested in waking up. However, it did join me later on. The Peripheral Neuropathy shakes began. The moment I got out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously, grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, unfit-for-use, recliner, and started to hobble about. So Metal Mickey went everywhere with me as a precaution.

In the first instance, which was to the wet room to utilise the Porcelain Throne. The evacuation was the reverse of those of the last few days. Trotsky Terence had regained his advantage over the  Constipation Conrad.

Messy, gooey, and in need of cleaning up after the event. Whatever caused the red blotches under both arms is no worse, but I’ve got new growths underneath both man-breasts? Did I mention that all the underarm and chest hairs had fallen out? Well, they have!

Has anyone reading this had owt like this before? If so, a word or two of information in the comment section would be most appreciated. Being the lucky bugger, I am, I’ve spent the last three Christmases or New Year in the hospital for various reasons. I was hoping to avoid this happening this year.

But, with all the sleep I’d had, I was not too bothered. Indeed, after sorting out the mess, I did the nasal clearing, the teeth and had a shave. And that produced only two tiny nicks, despite the jerks and shakes. Though I was wary of being over-confident, I left Metal Micky close to had throughout.

I didn’t do the medicating, other than Harold’s Haemorrhoids… Oh, and another thing to cheer about – Little Inchies Fungal Lesion had not been bleeding. I found out shortly after thinking this when I stubbed my toe against the sock-glide on leaving the wet room. Argh! Is this real, or am I still asleep dreaming?

Now, time for a brew of Thomson Punjana tea. in one of the new, second-hand Bone-China mugs. No question to my mind, tea does taste so much better drinking from a Bone China mug!

I took some morning shots of the pretty clear nights, well, mornings views from the kitchenette window. Amazingly, ten minutes or so afterwards, as I was on the computer, the mist, the fog actually had fallen! But I’d beaten it today and got three decentish snaps taken. The first is a close up of the front of a house on Elmswood Gardens. (Above) It looks like part of a nativity play to me? They’ve done an excellent job of it, I reckon. The second was taken to the right of the window, the third to the left. Both are wider shots, as you can see. All have the first close-up one in them.

I pressed on with prepping for this blog. And making repeated mugs of tea, 99, Glengettie, and Thompsons Punjana. Then Saccades got a lot more blurred, and my progress was slowed down a lot.

Aha, I had just got back from taking a wee-wee, the door chime chimed, and in walked Jane and Pete!

Much was discussed, memories that I now find I can’t recall. And that is body-blow, I can tell yers. Because I always believed my long term memory was as good as ever. And that just the recent and newer stuff was getting beyond my mental capacity. But no, that is apparently no longer the situation. Worrying innit? But it came out that they had a photo of Grandma Harriet. Who, apparently had fifteen children, but she died at 59. I never knew any Grandma or Grandads; they all passed away before I was born

They even had a photo of her. Pete sent me a copy (here on the left) of the picture to my email.

You understand we were never a close-knit family. But this was a disappointment to me, that no one had ever told me her name… well, I can’t remember it happening anyway.

Jane and Pete had been to ‘Auntie’ Bobbie’s house, now mine, and will see Mary Rawson next. Another stunner, this brought back the memory of Mary’s husband, who happened to have the same operation, as I did, a week earlier than I. In the same hospital and wards in the City Hospital. But a week later, I was told by Jane that he had passed away. Such a good genuine family man, as decent as one can find… and yet do nothing me, was not taken? It made much worse when I heard he’d been taken to the Doctors, who refused to deal with him and told them to go to the hospital. He passed away en route! I’m still bitter about that.

I showed off the box of hand-made cuddlies that HRH Lisa and Billum had sent me.

The pair had a nosey look at them and sent their thanks to HRH Lisa for the loving gesture.

Hahaha! I think that Pete took a shine to ‘Crazy Fuzzy Goat’, as Christened by Lisa. I reckon Jane’s favourite was the ‘Pink Fuzzy Monster’.

Pete took a shine to my ‘Long Eared Rabbit’, so I took temptation away from him and had a chat with LE Rabbit myself. Jane was not surprised; she knew me and understood. Hahahaha!

During the hard to follow machinations and chin-wagging, I soon discovered I was overweight. Hahaha!

They got ready to leave and took the three boxes and two carrier bags of wines and pressies with them. They nearly forgot the two over jackets for Pete. I bought them two years ago, not seen them since. How Pete got them down to the car, I don’t know. I safely put my single 8oz pressie away from both of them. Pete also returned items he’s been storing for me; bless him.

Looking good our Jane, and she’s nearly a year older than I am! It must have been those early years in Sicily and those in Australia that did her good. Petes looking good too, but don’t tell him I said so.

Carer due anytime now, meal to prep, and this blog to finish and post, so I’ll be offski folks.

TTFN.

Ode: Inchcock’s First Dance Hall Visit

After trying out ballroom dancing at the Youth Social Centre and being told by one well built, highly desirable busty young lady: “Your dancing reminded me of a pregnant rhinoceros that, with three legs, suffered from an overindulgence of alcohol!” I stopped.

Then, off to the Youth Club, and tried my hand at Jiving. When! More my style, although I was a total failure and spent far too much time picking myself up from the floor and getting an elbow or fist in the face, I also had to give that up. After I was banned from the Youth Club for accidentally putting Sandra’s shoulder out.

Then, it arrived – The Twist!

The current girlfriend was not a fan of the twist at all. And became an un-girlfriend. Sob! But being a romantic, look-at-me-go type of young lad, I’d already had my eye on Margaret, a locally-bred gal, and love of the twist brought us together. She was a couple of years older than I, and the Locarno Dance Hall was the first to be holding a dedicated Twist only night. So we arranged to visit.

Expensive mind you; 2/6d (12½d) to get in. But, I was determined to show off my ‘Twisting skills’, So enthusiastically practised and honed, to what I thought was perfection, in my bedroom for many an hour into the night. This was my chance to impress!

Queuing Up To Get In

We whippersnappers queued early on in the night,
The mood was good; nobody wanted to fight,
No talking back then, of gigabyte, megabyte, or terabyte,
No mobile phones or headphones were in sight…
Time for the doors to be opened, I was uptight;
Margaret hadn’t turned up… still, my chance for the limelight?

Searching Out A Partner!

I got in, and was cool, as they played ‘Twist and Shout’,
Time to have a decker around and pick a girl out…
I found one; she was over six feet and rather stout…
But I went over to try my best lines out…
Her breath smelt of Vodka and brussels sprout,
But her bosom swelled as I got my wallet out…
We were soon on the dancefloor for a workout!

I was enjoying that…

The gal and I did jive, had a jolly good shakeout,
The bouncer came over, and said ‘It’s Twist night!’
I said, well, it doesn’t matter nowt!
He hit me and threw me out!

I was a bit disappointed…

I felt a proper fool; the gal stayed behind, sacre bleu!
I legged it home miserable and made a brew…
Had some leftover rabbit stew…
Two bottles of Guinness too…
Then I had to spew…
That was the end of Twisting debut…

Part of the Inchcock Memories in Ode Series

1950-60s Tin Bath Uses – In Ode

A short odeing session. My memories of the unexpected usages of the ‘Tin Bath’ that resided most of the time, in the soot-covered viaduct wall out in the back yard of Brookfield Place, Nottingham.

Traditional Usage

The tin bath hung on the viaduct wall for ages; why?
Used for bathing once a week, oh, my…
Unless Dad was working that Saturday, this I can ratify
It was occasionally used for other purposes, I’ll identify…

Coal Moving?

Twice a year, we’d get a ton of coal delivered for free,
Mostly slack, very few actual lumps in it, you see,
Someone had to sort and sift through it; that would be me!
So, I was allowed to get black and dirty, temporarily…
The coal was tipped into the bath on delivery…
The bath got all bent out of shape, a pity…
I’d start with the sieving, somewhat tetchily!
Move any lumps into the coal house, repeatedly,
But it was, of course, a necessity,
It took me hours, Dad would pay me 3d, haughtily!

♥ Auntie Kerry… the fondler ♥

Cleaning the bath hurt terribly…
Dust in the eyes, throat made me feel sickly,
The thought of bathing next was lovely,
As long as it was conducted, by my Auntie Kerry!
I was too young to know of things as nookie!

The Hartleys Arrive – Bloodbath!

It really surprised me, she bought a live turkey,
She fed it up and had to kill it, you see…
She chopped off its head, it still ran around running free…
Such a culture shock for me…
The yard was covered, slimy innards, and very bloody!

Tin Bath To The Rescue!

Dad came up with a solution for next years bloodbath,
They could use our galvanized tin bath…
To contain the turkey, thus less backyard backsplash?
As I recall, they used the leftovers to make goulash?

Gawd, I miss these neighbours!

I thought I’d miss seeing the first manned spaceflight,
Yuri Gagarin, I heard it on the radio, in the papers, alright…
Leslie called; Mrs Hartley sent me a remarkable invite…
Watch it on our TV; they even gave me sarnie, of Marmite!

Part Of Inchcock’s Memories In Ode Series.