Category: Nicodemus’ Neurotransmitters failing

MEMORIES OF STARMERS SHORT STAY
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STARMERS PLANS?
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SUNDAY 19th JULY 2026
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Poor effort of the blog today, folks.
Got the trots again this morning. Come the afternoon, I faded. Just so tired, dizzy, foggy… Not good.
Hoping that I’ll be alright for Carer Mizra’s late visit, he hopes to help me shower. I’ll see how I feel earlier, try to get a stand-up wash, shave and teggies done before the lad arrives, then just body shower and medicationings to do. Going to have to stop here, in hope of falling asleep before the Carer comes, the thought of sleep is like a medicine, much needed. Might be back later.
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I’M BACK
Managed to get a stand-up wash, teggies and a shave.
Despite the spinning head full of dizzies, rumbling-hrumbling innards and knocking off the new scab on the rib wound. I did what barrier creaming and Phorpain gelling I could get at without stretching of bending.
I even managed, with the aid of the picker-upper, to get clean protective pants on my bottom. I’ll ask the Carer to do my shoulder, neck, back, man-breasts & belly mould.
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I think I only had one mug of tea today, the tonic and spring water went down well, though.
I’m writing this at midnight, cause I feel up to it now.
I settled down and fell asleep.
Carer Mizra made the last call. Not here for long, but as usual, he did a lot of helpful things; he checked emails and texts for me. Medications given. Apologised for not being able to help me take a shower. Said he would wash my feet for me tomorrow – if he is rostered to call. 
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Minutes after Carer Mizra had left, I spewed up.
Made a mess on the recliner, me, and the carpet. My spinning head & dizziness got even worse after that.
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As I settled into the recliner to get ready to watch the match. I could hear my grumbling stomach as I was watching the match. Spain outplayed the dirty, nasty, fouling Argentinians. I was so glad that Spain won.
Great! Most amazing, I managed, but only just, to stay awake for the match & extra-time!
Spain won 65% of possession and completed 762 accurate passes to 358. It was complete domination. Argentina set an (anti-record) by failing to take a single shot on Spain’s goal during the first 90 minutes, compared to Spain’s 20! 
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I thought an ice cream might settle my innards, and took an extra Codeine for whatever it was that was messing with me. A cold, maybe? When I hobbled into the kitchenette, I smelled the burning meal I’d left in the pan. So, no nosh tonight. Getting the food thrown away and cleaning the pot, I threw up a second time. Considering I’d had nowt to eat, I wondered what it was I’d regurgitated. A fair bit of it. Just me and the kitchen floor to clean this time. Back to the other room, and I got down with a strong will, to get some sleep – this time I vomited into a waste-bin bag.
Sleep was denied to me, and I got up to do this update. The innards were feeling as if there were another load brewing up for evacuation from my guts, and I started involuntarily passing some terrible phooey and often lengthy rear-end escapages of wind.
Then I had to get up to go to the Porcelain Throne. Got the stick, night Catheter pouch in hand, and wobbled my way into the wet room… Amazing! The Trotsky Terence Type evacuated product looked the same colour as each of the wrenching-ups I’d had.
Rotten Luck on the way out of the wet room. I sort of walked into the door frame as my balance fluctuated, and shoulder-charged it. 
Swore? Cursed? Me? Well…
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Nothing was the answer!
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SATURDAY 18th JULY 2026
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A surprisingly decent sleep, albeit a short one, which left plenty of time for musing, worry and fretting; but the sleep was far less broken. I think. I stirred with thoughts of the World Cup: England v France, 3rd-4th playoff. 
My Meanderings…
Naturally, the failure and disappointment of the second half of the Argentinian match still hurts. It must hurt the players as well. So much hope built up. Both teams will need to build up willpower, interest and encouragement for this match.
Fiddling-FIFA are struggling to sell tickets for England’s third-place playoff with France. With over 7,000 tickets still available as of 10am UK time on Friday, which was 36 hours before kick-off in Miami on Saturday.
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Politics, I’m afraid, overshadowed their deserved victory over England. Fiddling FIFA is considering disciplinary action for Argentina’s players after they displayed a banner reading “Las Malvinas son Argentinas”, which translates to “The Falkland Islands are Argentinian”. Several members of the squad lifted the sign following their 2-1 victory over England. The moment has caused uproar in England. FIFA’s own ruling bans any political messaging at the World Cup. But has not taken any action (so far) against Argentina’s references to the Falkland Islands. Or about their squad singing a song about the conflict following a win against Switzerland. I can see their viewpoint and the misunderstandings, but the dubious inaction by FIFA, or even an investigation, proves FIFA to be Oligarchical.
But at least they are considering doing so.
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But, for both losing teams, it offers a slight improvement if they can come third, rather than 4th, surely?
I’ll watch the match with crossed fingers, hoping it’s England, not France, who win. After all, at least they got as far as the Semifinal.
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Then my own problems took over…
I won’t list them; I haven’t got the time.
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I stirred from the bed, removed the night bag, and went off with a gurgling stomach to the wet room.
A flaky, wet, sort of yellowy-green evacuation, over in seconds. I put the kettle on, boosted the electricity meter, and went back to the front room. For about two minutes, I then felt the follow-up en route from my innards. 
Back to the front room, got the computer on.
The inner rumbling from an obvious to me, follow-through getting ready to; if I’m not careful & quick enough on its own accord. By the time I stood up and grabbed my stick, it was on its way…
EMBARRASSMENT MODE!
Bad & Good luck within a few seconds; I’ll explain.
I thought I’d whipped down my protection pants in a panic. Still, in time, I was just getting ready to go into a smug mode, as I wringled a bit to get the last bits to fall off my bottom – but heard no splash as what felt like a decent clump was freed; this was when I realised that I had not pulled the pants down far enough. Say, no more. Other than that, it took ages to clean things up.
My language and self-recrimination was verbally loud and long-lasting. I have a problem now; I can’t get these old, tight pants on without help. Still, the Carer must be due soon for a laugh, Haha!
What I tell you next will probably not be believed.
I stripped off and got back to the little-used computer. As I sat down, I noticed the tea had gone cold. So, off to the kitchen… and yet another flow from the rear end began! Luckily, being so close to the wetroom door, with stick already in hand, and no pants to remove, I got in and seated with plenty of time to spare. Smug-Mode-Adopted! At least, and last, the evacuation was so small that I was sure this must be the last one. The only thing worth mentioning was that it had come out almost a luminescent yellow shade, and a little more solid.
I’m hoping this morning was a one-off! 🥺
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Carer Edward arrived, gave the medications, and helped me look at the problem with the atrocious AI spellchecker from Grammarly. No luck.
He then applied Phorpain gel to my back, shoulder, and neck. Asked if he could put some Phorpain gel on his hurting knee, no problem there.
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Carer Akram arrived, bearing a letter received, which he collected from the floor near the door.
It was the bank’s statements!
I opened the envelope, and the words spoken by my Warden Deana came to mind: “You must let me know straight away when they arrive. So, I phoned her, realising too late to stop myself that she does not work Saturdays and Sundays. Typical of my luck, something always arrives at the weekend to muck things up.
Have to leave it until Monday, then.
The lad got my shoulder, neck pain-gelled. He issued me with the medications. Then put some barrier cream on where needed. He also creamed the chest wound; it had been bleeding a smidgeon today. Just goes to show the difference in the Carer’s attitude & efficiency. He listened when I asked him things. and remembers.
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ACCIFAUXPA
Had a dizzy spell getting up from the chair. Hit the computer desk, and knocked off various bits and pieces, the clock calendar, hearing aids & batteries, diabetes glucose, notes, remote control, picker-upperer, and walking stick. Bent to get the picker to retrieve them and had another dizzy spell. They await the arrival of the next Carer. Tsk!
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I’m still a little unsteady balance-wise, so I’ll check on the nosh and turn off the computer if it’s ready. Back in the morning to update things, if anything happens.
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What a game it was!
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TTFN
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Last night’s nosh
Ate it all up, & by gosh…
Off to the WC, splosh, splosh!
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FRIDAY 17th JULY 2026
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06:00hrs: After a chronically disturbed night’s sleep, (but I’m not complaining!), I’d fallen asleep in the £300 second-hand, most uncomfortable, decrepit, haemorrhoid-Harold-testing, micro-organism-microbe-bugged, easily-fall-outable, unfit-for-use, not-working recliner; I tried to get myself up from the chair.
I think it took ten minutes and four tries. Gawd, my balance was all over the place.
I got the nocturnal Catheter pouch removed, and the urge for a mug of tea came over me. So, I gently hobbled into the kitchen. By the time I got there, I was partly convinced that I must have had a tumble, as the left fractured knee that had been injured in a fall was so bad. And I had new chest pain, although that was likely a follow-up from yesterday’s fall. But everything looked in place, a mystery. I got the kettle on and put some spuds in the slow cooker.
Then off to the Porcelain Throne in haste.
Constipation Conrad controlled, a little painful with it, but little mess to clean up on me or the wetroom furniture.
I looked around the room and soon saw signs of an altercation. The mop bucket and mop were lying in the shower, the waste bin was tipped over, and there were some specks of blood on the shower chair. So, I had taken a tumble. I thought. I tidied the mess a bit, and took off my dressing gown to have a rinse and do my few teggies I have left. Aha, fresh bleeding, but not a lot from the scratch. Carer Andrew put some Germolene on it later, as in this photo he took of it. Then we put a Suprasorb® P sensitive silicone foam dressing (Just to sound clever) on the ribs.

I made up some bottles of CWD, Catheter Drinks Bottle, in the fridge. Each one was a mixture of soda water, mineral water, and fruit juice, made to last the day and kept in the fridge to stay cool.
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WHAT NEXT?
The bottom of the fridge was covered in water. Got some kitchen towels and dried off what I could get at. Minutes later, when getting the milk out, the depth of the water seemed like it was before I’d dried it up!

DID I LET ALL THE FOLLOWING WORRY ME?
Was I worried about the cost of taxis to & from Nutall Hospital, QMC EENT, A&E, dentist, the bank, and Neurology appointments? The cost of paying for Carers to escort me, as the medics insisted? Taxi & Carer to and from shopping trips? Fret about the British Gas charges having been more than doubled? The British Gas oligarch’s engineer gave me 3 appointments, but none of them arrived, and now they are giving me another one? The bank account now being inaccessible? The chest injury’s blood is dribbling down my overweight, floppy stomach onto my Protection Pants, which I cannot afford to reorder. Peeved that the nailcutter from the hairdressers has stopped calling; (not that I could afford to pay her yet). Not concerned about the computer chao not bringing me the easier-to-see keyboard he said he would. Worry that I’ve lost my long-distance glasses? Getting & worrying why and uptight at having no less than 12 seizures this morning, and four in the afternoon? Never had so many in a day before.
No! Not a man of my pain tolerance & lack of worrying status. In the prime of life, mentally and physically active, (Well, I have to rush to the toilet sometimes), depression-resistant, of sound mind & well-educated.
I tell fibs sometimes as well.

Why, at school, Trent Bridge Secondary Modern, I learned how to avoid the gangs at playtime and coming and going times. And the advances of one of the teachers. Dad sent me to the gym to harden me up to fight back at the bullies. I recall telling him one day that I’d had three bouts with a 100% record! I didn’t mention that these were all 100% losses. I lasted for a full 2-minute round on the last one! I came round in the shower.
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To be honest, so many things did get to me today, a select few of which were: WordPress changing its own font and format. The AI wordcheck is telling me that the complicated words I’ve written, like “may” and “only,” need to be changed to “may” and “only.” Grrr!
My concentration and physical balance are all over the place, but I discovered it happened in the wet room… yet I have not the foggiest memory of it.
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While putting on the nocturnal Catheter tube, I noticed some blockages along the tube as I prepared it for emptying (this was last night). Oh dearie me!
This afternoon, there was some in the collection jug.
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EVENING SUNSHINE
OUT OF THE BALCONY
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Hot Again!

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Enough!
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Inchie Today: Wednesday 15th July 2026
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I leapt out of the bed, did a double somersault, and a few press-ups… Woke wearily, instantly in a depression, and after a good while, forced myself to get up and unattached the nocturnal Catheter pouch.  
Interested, well, almost, in seeing if the Blood Pressure had dropped yet, I got the tackle out and utilised the 
sphygmomanometer. Flipping heck, supposed to ring 111 again. But I dare not ring them. I know what would happen: take a taxi straight to the QMC-A&E; this is considered an Emergency Situation. With the £30 quid needed to get there & back, no Carer to help me get dressed, and the memories of the hellish last visit to the A&E in mind, I’ll not bother. What’s the point?
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The nasty letters from last afternoon caught my attention as I went to get my hearing aid in. British Gas is telling me the RTS signal has now been switched off across Great Britain (Oligarch-ruled). Again, they are going on about the electricity meter. A quick catch-up on this. For at least three years, they have been asking for a meter reading. I’ve called them to ask how to take it, but it doesn’t seem to have the coloured buttons they told me it had. And the Carer Ejaz spent ages on the phone with them. He even took photos of the meter and sent them to Oligarch-Ruled British Gas. They continue to send demands that we let them have a reading for years. Now, a new tactic. Surely they know they promised a visit today to sort out the meter. Confirmed by two Carers, Edward and Mizra. So, how come there are clandestine threats in this communication? Are they necessary? Just like the Untrustworthy Trustee Bank, both should use the slogan: Customer-Service-Not-Available. 
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Evening all
Sun’s out again
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Sadly
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Made a right mess of this!
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Many moans, groans, things gone wrong, depression attacks, and sulking were missed off today. Not to mention England’s second-half performance. 
I’m not complaining. I’m just absolutely, totally fed up to my two-and-¾s back teeth with moaning.
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Sorry, Monday turned into a horrifically worrying day.
My bank balance is down another £1000, and I panicked so much because if this carries on, I won’t have enough to pay the standing orders for rent, power, insurance, all the crap I’ve signed up for on the web, nothing. The really annoying things are: 1) That Mr K, who is looking into it. 2) The Bank tells me to go to the bank in West Bridgford – to do that will actually empty my account – YES! It’s that low! Also, it would cost me to take the required Carer with me, and at least £40 in taxi fares. This would surely empty my account.
Nobody seems to understand these problems I have.
I’ve explained it to the Warden of the flats. No response.
I see ulterior motives.
3) The Red Cross said they would send someone to help; that was last November when I was in the hospital.
4) A Social Lady on my next visit to the QMC said she would send someone to look at the problem. Zilch yet.
4) The Doctor referred for Financial Assistance, but that was only last week. No rush, with any luck, I’ll snuff it and be cremated by the time help arrives.
5) No one listens or seems interested in my inability with numbers (arithmophobia), frustration & depression.
6) I almost wish I was brave enough.
7) I had silly thoughts this morning (Tuesday), but then again, I thought at the time that my decision seemed a sensible one, a solution to the misery of old age, and the mental & physical impositions that I am failing to cope with. (Not now, but…)
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I had a bad tumble on Monday. As I was prepping the stew pot of peppers, potatoes, onions, and soy chunks. I dropped the hotpot, which was hot. Hitting my potbelly and wrist on its way to spreading the contents all over the floor. This photo was taken minutes earlier. I’d just added the red peppers.
8) I don’t think I’ve ever been so frustrated and angry at the same time. Cursing, swearing at myself. The Carer said he’ll clean it up tomorrow. The late Carer did clean up the bits I’d missed. But each time I see the rest of the floor that needs doing, it makes me feel pathetic.
I won’t bother making any more soy chunks; I’ll throw them away.
But, hinger lingered. So, I made up a tray of mackerel, flavoured it with some teriyaki sauce, and covered it. Then I labelled it and put it into the fridge for later consumption. So, no more cooking for me; it’s too dangerous… but how can I buy fresh salad stuff, money permitting? The bank will not let me buy anything more online. And the Carers want me to pay for an escort and use a taxi to go down the hill into Sherwood to get food. Writing this is again making me feel pathetic, lame, and pitiful, and it has brought on a depression with silly thoughts attached.
I’ll try not to let it get to me, and I apologise for the wretched state of my mind. Feeling so low. This is why I’ve not blogged for a while. I think I’m fighting a solo fight against the unbeatable & incurable.
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TUESDAY

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On the bottom are the recorded morning BPs.
Hope you can see them. Scary in the extreme!
Suppliers by the financial Phook-Phup, and no one seems to be interested in helping. Again!

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I spent the miserable, much more than any other, night ever-waking up in a sad state and didn’t have to think of the problems; they were there, almost mocking me.
This may sound as if I am giving up, overfrustrated?
This is because I am giving up, overfrustrated!
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I won’t bother Jenny today, cause given how I feel, I’d probably say something that would reveal my thoughts. I get worried about my constant self-pity in coping.
Why in Hell can’t I get help?
Well, that was a silly thing to say. Let me think again…
💗Thanks to Matron for referring me to a Respite Home. Coming back to this place and its concerns concerns me. But I’d go like a shot if allowed to.
🤎Appreciation to Mr K. for helping me, bout please speak to me if you can, please.
🤎One of the Red Cross volunteers is coming to do a hospital bed safety check today. Thanks. 💗Also, just in case they do get to call on me, the Ladies who will be looking into my finances, banking, etc.
❤️‍🔥Not forgetting My Angel, Jenny. The one person who, being of similar age, can understand my health & mental problems more than any other. And she has so many problems with her health. XXX
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BANK TEXT CAME IN… Chissenhausen!
My account is now another £100 less!
Carer arrived, and he saw how perturbed and depressed I was, and rang Mr K. ‘Unavailable!’
He then ran British (don’t know what they are doing) Gas. To confirm, they will be calling today to assess the meter.
The Carer was assured they were coming, either today or tomorrow. Since this so-called appointment was made, I’ve received four more texts: one about the increase in payment, two asking for a reading, and one telling me to visit their website. Which we would have if they would let us, but no! They won’t!
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Jenny sent an email, bless her. She has family calling today. Lovely! And she told me the Willow House does deliver. So, I’ll look up their number and menu and try them out. My favourite Chinese, without doubt. Albeit a good few years since I’ve used them. I can’t get out to fetch any, and having just looked at the price list, menu. All the great taste came back into my throat just looking at the menu. Their Cantonese sweet & sour pork ([31]£6.50) with chips ([59]£2.20) will qualify for free delivery! But strange as it sounds, I’ll risk it, cause in a week or two, I won’t even be able to pay my Direct Debits, with all the cash disappearing from my account. Does that make sense? Does to me.
I just can’t believe no one is interested… Well, whoever is pilfering my funds would be, of course.
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Bet they’ll show some concern when I can’t pay my standing orders or my food bills. I’ll likely get arrested. What’s prison like? I’ll get quicker medical care, perhaps? A free lift to the hospital when the Catheter blocks? A lift either way, saving on taxis? There should be someone to call when I have a tumble, seizure, or fungal bleeding lesions session. Cause of this, they might even give me a single cell, like the flat? Although I’ll have no money. Will I? Maybe, perhaps I can wangle it to get drugs in there on the tick? The likelihood of my kicking the bucket sooner rather than later… I won’t be able to pay for them?
Hang on, I’m getting to like the sound of this. Hehe!
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Early morning clouds. But the sun soon came out shortly after this rather gloomy photograph was taken. It did cross my mind while taking this snap how easy and quick it might be to end all my problems. One giant leap for Gerrykind would be just the job… if I could muster up the courage. Depression Darus may well help me out.
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Then, as I nibbled on a biscuit.   Showed her displeasure at the hardness of the not aforementioned biscuit, in her usual style. Arrgh!
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The sun blasted through
Lovely later
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Carer Andrew did the laundry. Left it in the dryer, collected it later in the day.
Left it in the bag, I found after the lad had gone. Most of it was damp, the towel nearly wet. I took some togs and put them on the disabled clutter in the balcony to dry. The sun was still out. Hanging up the kagoules and dressing gowns was a smidge painful, reaching to get them on a door or peg.
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Made a nosh. Yellow tomatoes, buttered milk roll bread, lippers, potatoes, peas and red peppers. Then had the last Lemon cheesecake dessert. Rating: 8.2/10.
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Watched the World Cup semi-final between Spain & France. I was most surprised at how poorly the French played. More than impressed with how Spain played.
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Tired out, I did one more BP test but didn’t record it. Why? It was 184/69! Oh, I recorded it here!
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I was not going to fall asleep easily. The worries over the finances, medical appointments, and the lack of communication from all the promised offers of help that I’d had had not materialised.
Basically, a lack of confidence, awareness, depression, futility, helplessness, and self-anger.
Plus, I have to say, my decreasing ability to cope.
Installing a feeble, pathetic forlornness that lingers.
Sad, innit?
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Moaning and groaning bring no respite.
I must remember that. I suppose.
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Nice & Light last night!
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https://offcenternoteven.com/2026/07/09/tis-the-season-tern-tern-tern
I’d love you to have a look at this
blog where I took ‘with permission’,
The above photo. Hard to pick a
Favourite, but I picked this one.
Just see others, they are great!
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Friday 10th July 2026
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After emptying the night Catheter pouch, failing to evacuate on the Porcelain Throne, and walking into the doorframe after washing, I decided to get the meal on.
Same as the last two days, although I later changed my plans. Got some garden peas and potatoes into the slow cooker, with some Soy sauce, onions & pepper. Put it on a low heat, had to shoot back in a hobbled haste to the wet room and Porcelain Throne. Aware that the belated motion was in transit from my innards to my back passage, of its own accord!
I felt in a right embarrassed mess.
By the time I’d got down on the plastic seat, the forceful torrent of yellowish, almost liquid content had all but finished its job. My next job was to clean myself and the wetroom furniture and floor.
By the time I’d finished the job completely, I was not only in pain with my back and knee, but I also managed to have an . Clouted my head on the raised seat bar while reaching for a little splash I’d missed earlier.
Got a wash, and off to the kitchen to make up a couple of day bottles to feed the Catheter.
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Onto the balcony, pretty hot out there already with no sun out yet. Took this shot of the end of the car park. Not many pap-paps about today. Nice not to see any mudslides in view. There will be when we get the rain next week. I hobbled precariously; the toes and soles of my feet are bad today. Not helped by failing to get a toenail cutter, to the kitchen. The sun was not coming over from behind.
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Back into the computer. I made a very sad & sorry effort, taking a photograph of the bottle with the cold water in it.
I also made a right proper mess of taking my first swig of the spring water.
Taking the cap off, I dropped it, got the picker-upper to retrieve it, and let the bottle slip. I grabbed it and spilt water over my muscular, handsome, fit body & protection pants, legs, and the carpet.
I just laughed it off, of course.
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Later, I decided to add some Soy Chunks to the peas & potatoes in the crock-pot. I felt sure I could remember how to prep them, having done so a couple of weeks ago, and I really enjoyed them. But had to empty the Catheter first; it surprised me how quickly it had filled up this morning, back to the kitchen.
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I soaked the chunks in boiling water for 20 minutes. I was amazed at how I could remember all this; in fact, a crept in. Haha!
Got the template updated, & 20 minutes later went to drain the chunks, and leave them in cold water for 30 minutes. All was going surprisingly smoothly here!
Back to the template: set the alarm to remind me and respond when it rings.
Back to the kitchenette, drained and washed the chink in cold water, then wrung out as much water as possible, and added them to the crock-pot. Also adding some soy sauce, Teriyaki sauce, and onions.
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The Carer arrived, medications were given, and we pretended we knew what we were doing, appointment, lift, Carer escort-wise. Of course, it was not Carer Ejaz or Mizra, so we fuddled with the figures and dates for a while before giving up. We were only getting ourselves into a bigger muddle the more we tried.
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After the Carers’next call, I went to check on the food.
Another Cock-Up!
The chunks were the same size as when I put them in. And I was so sure that I’d done everything right in prepping the meal…
Now there’s a statement and a half! Me, Certain! I looked up on Google how to prep Soy Chunks. Then, of course, I found what I did wrong. Just one thing, but crucial. I’d boiled the water and soaked the chinks in it for twenty minutes – what I should have done was boil them for twenty minutes, not soak them! I tasted one of the chunks. Euurgh! Horrible.
Not sure which emotion was strongest at this point.
Frustration, self-hatred, or depression.
Maybe it was a third of each?
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FOOD RESCUE MISSION!
I REMOVED THE FOUL-TASTING CHUNKS
Sliced and added some red onions & red pepper.
Some more sauce, Sweet & Sour. Opened a can of water chestnuts, sliced some, and added them to the crock pot. Put the rest in a lidded jar in the fridge.

Getting late now, I left the pot on low for an hour or so, to see if it might come out edible – I have my doubts.
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Aha, World Cup Match.
I’ll watch it while the meal is being cooked and altered for six hours, again!
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The current World Champions, Spain, won the match, as the world will now know.
Begrudgingly, and reluctantly, I have to say they were the better team on the day. Through gritted teeth, I congratulate Spain.
Why? I’m not sure.
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Carer Mizra made the late call. A nice lad, I like him and Ejaz. Both are a cut above the others. Shame, they rarely come to serve me now. Sad, actually. 
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Oh, flipping heck! Meal thrown away!
All day long, I seem to have been making changes to the stewpot meal in the crockpot.
The cock-up with prepping the soya chunks. Took them out of the pan, threw them away, then made what proved to be a disastrous effort to add seasonings to salvage the meal. Now I’ve just been to check on the mixture…
I tried a spoonful of the foul-tasting, with a twinge of metallic flavour, caught the upcoming acid-tasting dollop of sick that came up and out of my mouth, spat it out, and gargled. I left the rest of it where it was, to be washed in the morning. Leaving me pondering on what I can have to eat instead… also feeling a fool. Incompetence, that is what I’ve developed in old age, with a smidgen of, well, an abundant acceptance of my ever-worsening senility and mental infirmity.
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I ended up eating two bags of Frazzles, a just-out-of-date pot of cheesecake, and fell asleep. Waking later to find I had not eaten the cheesecake, and cleaned it from my chest and stomach. Found the pot on the floor, but the search for the spoon continued into the morning.
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Of course, it was a dream, animated!
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Wednesday 8th July 2026
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Several properties have been evacuated after a large fire at a scrapyard in Nottingham

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Morning Clouds
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Very nearly made the bed!
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SUNDAY 5th JULY 2026
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A bad night again. Kept waking repeatedly. Gave up at 05:30hrs, and got out of bed, painfully. Mainly due to the shaking shoulder and my left knee pain. Also, a call to the Porcelain Throne. Off to the WC and passed a messy, stinky dollop of wet poo, all done in seconds. As I was cleaning up the porcelain splashes, my left knee gave a sharp stabbing pain and gave way on me. Nothing new there. I didn’t go down but caught the knuckles I burnt last night against the rails, as I  grabbed them so as not to go down. Back in the main room, I took a strong Oxycodone Hydrochloride painkiller capsule. I took the night pouch off and made up some bottles of water to keep the Catheter Contraption working. Had a good few gulps, but the day bag was not receiving any urine from the bladder. I admit this scared me a little – well, no, the thought of having to go to the A&E in a £15 each-way taxi, to get ignored, embarrassed and scowled at by the medics. Not all of them, just two.
Panic over 15 minutes later, when the wee slowly started dribbling into the pouch. Phew!
On the computer to finalise yesterday’s blog, and got it posted. Then started the Ode for today’s effort. It’s a shame that CorelDraw is not working on the new £850-plus-fitting computer properly. I hate digging into the files that the new computer lets me access old graphics. I’ve been conned again! Grumph!
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07:55hrs: Carer arrived while I was making a mug of tea and getting some corn flakes. Forgot about that. The lad gave me my medications, and I told him I’d taken the Oxycodone earlier. Also mentioned that I might be going to a home for Respite time. It’s not certain yet; I don’t know where or when, obviously. I’m telling you out of decency. Which is more than you do when all three extra-hour calls this week failed to come through, and the week before. Two wrongs don’t make a right.
Then realised he was on his mobile. He disappeared for a while and returned… I tried again, catching his attention before he got on his mobile again… I said: I might be going to a home for Respite time. It’s not certain yet; I don’t know where or when, obviously. I’m telling you out of decency. Which is more than you do when all three extra-hour calls this week failed to come through, and the week before. Two wrongs don’t make a right.
He then asked When? How long for?
Then I felt a seizure coming on and looked at the clock in hopes of working out how long it was; it was 25 past. Carer was asked how long I was out for, and it did. I came around with the usual jerk and acid flux. Clock on the half hour. Asl Carer, how long was I out for? 2 minutes, he told me. I probably misread the clock then.
I asked for a Codeine, as the shoulder must have been rattling, shuddering, and hurting a fair bit. Then I asked him to apply more Phorpain gel to the shoulder. Which he did for me. He muttered something from behind me as I was getting my two sticks for a balance test and hobbled around. Got the sticks stood up, and he was gone. The walk was a bit wobbly, but I’ve had worse after seizures before. Sat down for 15 minutes, then I went to the kitchen. It went well enough. So I got the kettle on to make a brew of Glengettie. Tasted a little off, but it wasn’t the milk this time. I reckon it was the acid reflux from the seizure that caused it. I have plainly not fully recovered from the effects yet. I sat down, took the mug to be washed, and was wobbling a bit, and my left fractured knee was giving way again. I got sat down again and stayed there for an hour or so. Feeling a little steadier now, but still unsteady when standing or walking? I hope the cause was the seizure and nothing new.
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Got back on blogging. I even found a way to get new photographs onto WP. I still cannot access the external box, but I can now get snaps on. The trouble is that I have to upload the photos one at a time from the SD card (when the new £850-plus, fitting-new computer gives me access, which is hit-and-miss) into MS Word. That has some basic editing on it, if needed. Then, save as a picture and convert to another format, in my Picture file. Then load them into WP one at a time. Life is not going well. But every little advancement helps. I’m not sure how I found out this works. The seizure after-effects seemed to help? Just the balance and knee are giving me trouble now.
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Going to have a sit down again, keep drinking to feed the Catheter, and maybe fall asleep… Oh, no, I won’t. The Carer is due back in about 20 minutes. Tsk! My 
stomach is rumbling again now. What next, a trip to the Porcelain Throne, methinks. No, my mistake.
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Midday Carer arrived. I was not in good nick mentally. I moaned about the new problems with the dentist and the Red Cross not being tended to, and asked him to watch me as I try to book the appointment as they asked me to do online.
I clicked the green Book Now swatch above. It took me straight to the booking appointment page…
Clicked the Book an Appointment tab.
It told me there were no appointments available.
Giving a number to phone them on.
Does reading about bad luck depress you?
It certainly gets to me that way!
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I’m not sure of anything now.
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The Carer, even after I explained about my distant nature and why, the seizure aftermath, just changed the subject every time. I was more confused than ever. I asked him to take some pot-noodles to the laundry sink.
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I might get a meal prepared. Unsure if it was a wise decision, as I felt well out-of-it for minutes, then it came and started all over again. Of course, I could make an appointment to see the neurologist at the QMC again.
Silly me, I forgot for a moment last time, and the first time I went to him. 2-year wait for the appointment. 4 minutes spent in his office. Told to send in a video of me in a seizure. Which took two months before a Carer was here at seizure-time, sent it to him. Not easy; he didn’t give me his email address. Carer Ejaz got it and emailed it.
3 months later, I sent it to him. Another 6 months on, I got a letter telling me they are signing me off their list… off? I didn’t really get on, did I?
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I’ll have a wash & shave then.
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