Nottingham

Inchcock Today: Off to the EENT Hospital

/ Inchie / 35 Comments

Escape from the flats to the hospital

Got lost twice, forgot I’d got no trousers on… Oh, dearie me!

A Tale of Inchcock’s Day (Five Hours), Out on Tuesday

After another ever-waking-up night’s lack of sleep, I woke and was about to launch into a state of blaspheming Sweet Morpheus’s reluctance to let me stay asleep. Fed-uppedness, niggardlyness, and a smidge of feeling sorry for myself.

But, Dementia Doreen allowed me to remember about the hospital visit today, and the bitterness dissipated, to be replaced by a remarkably determined Inchcock, who set about getting all the things needed for the hospital visit. (Fair enough, he did forget some items, Humph! I felt almost reborn… not the proper terminology, but close.

I waited until it was late enough, and then I decided to get the ablutions done. What a great session! There were only two tiny cuts shaving, one clouting the head against the power box when I bent to retrieve the loofah I’d dropped in the shower. Great! That was it Whoopsie and Accifauxpas wise.

Naturally, something had to go wrong after that wonderful start to the day. Gragnangles! I sorted out suitable things to wear, got the risky job done first, and put the diabetic bamboo socks on. The comfortable-wearing long ones.

But I had to use Sock-Glide-Glenda. True to form, I trapped my fingers twice, the same ones, of course, on each sock. That thick plastic gripper is deadly! I got a welt and a couple of bruises as well. But this did not put me off cause I intended to do my best to get the go-ahead with cataract operations, and after a couple of mild oaths, I carried on and went to gather the other needs of the morning.

Comfortable shoes, trousers, jumper, and the sleeveless jacket with all the pockets in it. It’s lasted a long time this one, I said to myself, as I got the camera (not much chance to use it though, Tsk!) and emptied the pockets to place the needed items for the trip…

Oh, ‘ecky thump! After emptying things out to make room, and started to put the paperwork, keys and the Crossword book in the jacket… They each fell right through and dropped on the floor at my feet! What’s going on here, I muttered! I went into Sherlock Holmesian Mode (I do that sometimes).

  The entire lining had seemed to go rotten! Only one of the twelve pockets was useable! Undeterred, I limped into the hallway to see if those hanging up had fared better. Two of them had not, and they joined the blue one in the extra-large bin bag! Humph! I checked the khaki one’s pockets. All seemed okay, so I swapped the emptied contents in that jacket. Got the PP’s, trousers and best jumper on.

I realised that Carer Richard was due shortly, so I thought I’d better check I’d not left anything on the floor in the hallway for him to trip over; he’s a good lad.

Guess what? In my haste, I stubbed my toe on the towel airer, lost balance, and was entangled with the tipped-over airer and towel on the floor! With new welts on various parts of my knee, head and face! Unglefrogwonglingisations! I later found that I’d broken a tooth as well. My spirits were getting a little lower than they were earlier. Cor, blimey!

I worked on finishing the blog, and the ♫Oh Susana♫ tune belted out from the doorbell. I expected to see Richard come in, but no! Another… I’d not unlocked the door!!! So all that pain and hassle was for nothing! I had left some stuff on the floor on the plus side and was pleased to move them if Richard did a Whoopsie of his own on them.

I went to admit the lad; he was alright about things. He soon got on with the medicationing for me. With a wry smile on his mush at my antics, forgetting to unlock the door, the marks on my face and head etc… We both saw the funny side. Hahaha!

I finished changing and was ready for when the lift arrived to get me to the ophthalmology clinic.

The door chime rang again; the door was unlocked, but whoever it was didn’t come in. It was Josie returning her dish and tray from her Sunday lunch. She did not say she liked it… Oh, dear! At least she didn’t say there was something she didn’t like about it?

The intercom rang and flashed – Aha, it was the ambulance lift. I told the man I’d come down, saving them the bother of coming all the way up then down again.

I made my way out of the apartment and down and out through the main lobby. Two ambulance men? Perhaps they’d heard stories about me? Hahaha!

The journey was uncomfortable, but all of the old ambulances I’ve been in were. So I anticipated it.

When we arrived, friendly and slowly driven, at the Queens Medical Centre, both lads came with me to the ophthalmology department waiting room.

Then took me to the waiting area. I could not hear anything the receptionist said, and one of the men translated for me. I realised then that I’d not put the crossword book in the coat or walker trolley. Shame that, cause it’s the only book I can read the clues on at the moment.

So I sat there, nosing at all around me. Bored rigid! But it didn’t take long for a lovely, attractive young lady to call my name out – but I didn’t hear it at first, and the gal took the bother to come and ask me, Hehe!

She led me to a small room with many machines for an ophthalmology-specific procedure. The blast in the eyes and many tests were patiently done on the beads. Deep family history was gone into, and about an hour later, I was returned to the waiting area to await being called by the Ophthalmologist.

During my wait to be summoned, I learned a lot, such as the lady in a cream coat is having smoked haddock for supper tonight. The man and woman and an elderly pair do not like the TV cookery programmes other than Gordon Ramsay’s. A lady in a uniform but not a nurse or medical one was annoyed when someone phoned her. I could not hear the other natterings, the acoustics are not good in a big hall. Hehe!

The Ophthalmologist lady came for me and led me to an even smaller room this time. Heck of a lot of examining and questions were gone through.

With Peripheral Neuropathy, I had trouble keeping my chin on the plastic thingamabob and had to look up all the time. The lady was not impressed or amused. She had to keep starting whatever she was doing again. I don’t think I was very popular at all. I did explain my conditions when I went in.

The eyes were tested using a log mar chart. In-depth history and current problems with sight. The Doctor knew what she was doing alright, it seemed to me. But I had to keep asking her to repeat things. Very quietly spoken lass.

I guesstimated about an hour later, and she gave me her diagnosis. Cataracts in the right eye only would be done; although you have cataracts in that left eye, they are not as bad as the right one. We’ll see how you are going with it when this operation is done before tackling glaucoma. She will refer me to the surgeon, 12-week an average waiting time.

During my appointment, she’d noticed Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and my right-leg dance. She was concerned because of the delicate nature of the operation. Even seeing in one eye sees is better than none. It can only be done with no movement from the patient at all! This doesn’t bode well! Nevertheless, I was ticked pink at it going ahead.

I was told to go to the main reception to arrange a lift home. I didn’t expect a lift back, so I was even more gee’d up now.  I was feeling perkier now.

But I was soon back in my typical frame of mind, feeling a bit of a fool! I could not remember where the main reception was. I set off, trying to retrace my earlier route in reverse, and ended up in a room that looked like it had many babies all over the place? I withdrew hastily! Found someone to ask where the main eye clinic reception was located. And realised it was one of the receptionists I couldn’t hear talking a few hours ago when I arrived. Hahaha!

Anyway, I found it, and I had the job of hearing what the gal at the counter was saying again. She scowled at me and pointed in the direction of a two-seater settee in the corner near the door. “I’ve to wait there, then?” I think she almost clapped when she realised I’d got the message. She put a thumb up for me! Har-har!

I don’t know how long they were coming, but I was glad they were. When Richard arrived, he was cheerful enough. Then I made yet another cock-up…

By pure luck, I took a right turn and found my way to the outer door, seeing the two men looking for me! I couldn’t keep up with the chap and lost him and my direction again! Now I did feel like a complete idiot!

They got me inside and buckled in and went to get another patient from across the roadway. No problem. While they were out, I got my Canon camera and took some photo’s inside the ambulance. The first one is through the window on the back of the driver’s cab (above). Then one through the top side windows. At least I got a few photographs on my trip out, my escape from the flat.

Finally, one of the side doors and my beloved, makes-me-feel-safe three-wheeler walker. No patient came with them. So we set off for Sherwood and Woodthorpe Court independent living flats!

We were soon back at the flats after a carefully driven journey. The lads refused a treat of the cans in thanks from my bag. Ah, well!

But I wanted to make a start on this blog, which I did. I got in the flat, had a wee-wee, got the kettle on, got my trousers off, cut up, and cubed some potatoes to do in the oven. After an hour or so, the floor chime burst forth again…

To my utter surprise, it was the Evening Carer Nichola… no, sorry, Natalie. My inner clock had gone all pear-shaped with the visit to the clinic. After she’s been here a few minutes, I realised that I had no trousers on!

I apologised hastily when I realised; it must have been a terrible sight for her. We managed a laugh about it, but I felt awful and openly cursed Dementia Doreen! Embarrassment, shame, self-loathing and feeling an almighty, right a proper twit, all flourished!

Worked on this blog. (I did get it finished) I’ll do this in the morning (Now). I was up late, and when I realised it was gone midnight, I was getting fed up with myself.

I concentrated on getting some much-needed food and made myself a quick meal. A can of the wonderful-tasting Morrison’s saver chilli con carnie and some potato cubes did them in the oven, to crisp them a little. A simple and cracking meal! It could have been because I was ravenous and tired and frustrated. I added only liquid salt and a splash of Worcester sauce and vinegar for the potatoes. I gave this effort a mammoth flavour rating of 9.2/10! Really enjoyed it!

The mess that I made making the potatoes, and doing the washing up, soon brought me back down to earth. Hehehe!

Review of the Day – In Odes

Sweet Morpheus didn’t allow me much sleeping…
Throughout the night, I would wake up jumping!
But I did remember, today, the EENT hospital visiting…
The best session for weeks, the ablutioning…
The Porcelain Throne visit was messy and paining…
I forgot to unlock the door; the Carer couldn’t get in…

A stubbed toe fell over the airer, got entangled within,
Sock-Glide-Glenda left me with cuts, bruises, hands and shin!
Emptied my jacket, things fell out, on the floor dropping…
The inner lining had apparently been rotting!

Took me hours to sort another coat out,
And swap things around the pockets…
Got it sorted and dressed to look smart…
Almost forgot to put the drops in the eye sockets…

Then the ambulance arrived, and I was soon in…
Thanks, to them, for to the hospital were driving…
The receptionist, I could not hear talking…
Some advised me of what they were saying…
Then to another waiting room, I was soon going…

First examination in-depth, the lady was engaging…
Back to the waiting room, results awaiting…
Got the okay, then moved to another area of seating…
Had a chat with a lady who was fortysomething…

The second exam, even deeper, by a lady appealing…
Eye drops were applied, and my head was reeling…
Back to the waiting room, I did some earwigging…
Awaiting being called back for assessing…

More tests on a machine and blinking…
I smiled and gave the lady some blinking…
But I didn’t get any return acknowledging…

To the Main Reception, to get a lift home, I was pleased!
But Dementia Doreen sent the memory adrift…
I got lost en route; I panicked and wheezed…
Felt a fool, ashamed and almost had a tift!

Found the reception, a stranger helped translate,
Sit in that chair (pointing) and for your transport wait…
So I did and didn’t have long to wait…
A driver came, said, follow me, mate…

I tried to follow him, but he walking relatively swift…
Chasing after him gave me a glift, boy, could he shift…
I lost him and got a bit miffed…
Panicked a bit and gave a little snift…
But found him outside, looking a bit squiffed…

Got home and lost all sense of timing…
The mind felt like it was abseiling…
Took my clothes off, nice and cooling,
Started with the day’s blogging…
Along came the evening Carer; I was welcoming…
Until I realised I had no trousers on, and started scaring!
Felt like an idiot, started self-caterwauling,
Embarrassed, ashamed, frustrating!

Well gone midnight got some nosh cooking,
Canned chill and potatoes, no casseroling,
Then turned my attention to sleeping…
Dreamed about Jillie and me, canoodling…
I think I started sweating and drooling…
A mortifyingly humiliating day, disconcerting!

The Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe

Inchcock Today: Thursday 28th April 2022

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

Thursday 28th April 2022

I thought, but I was wrong!

After a terrible, almost sleepless night, I burst into life with a jump, and I soon realised Little Inchies Fungal Lesion was bleeding, I wanted a wee-wee, and the innards were rumbling away something awful. I thought this was a fine kettle of fish to greet the day… Worse was to come…

As I climbed out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously hideously beige coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner, and got to my feet to catch my balance – I missed it, for it wasn’t there, and lurched backwards into the chair.

Leaving myself in a bit of a pickle… I needed the wee-wee, could feel the warm wetness in the PPs from the lesion, and there I was, struggling to get back up from the sharp landing on my bum, and felt Harold Haemorrhoids bleeding. Now as well! I fumbled out of the recliner again, the balance was still wrong, I got Metal Mickey (the three-pronged walking stick) and made way ASAP to the wet room. Naughty foul language was being muttered en route! Took a reluctant sprinkly wee-wee first.

Heck of a long job, but I cleaned things up, medicated Harold’s Haemorrhoids with Germoloid ointment, and used Daktacort cream on Little Inchies Fungal Lesion. The most painful of all the ailments to clean and medicate! Argh! But it has to be done.

How often it happens, the moment the piles have been cleaned and ointmentated, the need for Porcelain Throne follows. Grrr!

It’s a good job that I got up early all the same. Because the evacuation was the same as yesterday, under the control of Constipation Konrad! Solid, unwilling, and a giant torpedo when it eventually came out! . I set too on the crossword and finished it ultimately. T’was nothing to a man of my calibre! I finished one in 1972 as well… Mind you, I sat there for over an hour in hopes that the half-in, half-out situation with the rear end would flow again. Humph!

I decided to get the ablutions done as I was already in there. Mind you too early for a shower; the noise would wake the late sleepers. Things felt a bit better after that.

The shaving left me with.. wait for it… just one teeny-weeny cut. Another !

I got dressed in the day clothes. Then got the new slippers out of the packing bag. It took me a while to get them back into a shoe shape, suffice for me to get them on the feet. Warm, comfortable, cheap, they’ll do for me. Chinese made, not surprisingly – the stitching had started to split already, after three minutes of use.

Then started updating the Wednesday blog. I made a brew of Glengettie tea, tasty! But the balance let me down a little later when I visited the bucket for my fourth wee-wee, I don’t know how I did it, I held onto the bucket as I fell to the ground on one knee, without having any spillages?

MedPhorpain I got the Phorpain gel out, and I gave the knee a good massage and ointmented it. Cleared things up, emptied, cleaned and sanitised the bucket, and got back to the blog updating, it’ll be a long job, and the shakes were back again. In fact, I was having a double-visit from Shaking Shaun and Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, as carer Richard arrived. I think it fritted him for a second. It did me, and I’m used to them. Hahaha!

Ricard pointed out that I was swaying somewhat when I moved, and Metal Mickey was shaking a bit in use. Within minutes of him mentioning it, things improved greatly shaking-wise. I told Richard he should come more often to see me, you bring good luck with you. The lad looked tired again, but not as bad as yesterday. Then I found he was having a day off tomorrow. In fact, he wasn’t working again until Monday, I think he said. Nice chap, I wish I could do more for him. Still, treated him to some bits before he went, I insisted.

I wished him a good sleep, and I closed the door as Richard took out the waste bags, and as I turned to go down the hallway, the balance went out of sync… But let’s face it, it couldn’t have happened in a better place for me! I used both walls as the stick fell, and it was dead easy, too, with the hallway being so narrow! No injuries whatsoever. I brushed my chin against the wall, but no hassle. I felt a little chuffed with myself, smug!

Back to the updating of the blog. What a state I got myself into. I spent hours trying to get the photographs on the system, the card-reader was laughing at me. He even teased me sometimes, my part-loading the photos so I could see some of them, then freezing and coming up with messages “Please put a disc in drive-F. Then I had to wait several times when this repeated;y happened, cause it would not let me close anything. I just had to wait until it closed down of its own accord? Grumph!

Gone lunchtime by the time I got some loaded to use, and I was hours behind with everything else!

Then I checked the Amazon tracker, as the Morrison delivery via Amazon arrived. The driver rang me, but I couldn’t hear anything he was saying, but recognised the voice all the same, cause when he came months ago he left the bags downstairs for me. I said I’d go down, but by the time I got to the front lobby door the shakes were back, no problem with the balance, but Peripheral Neuropathy Pete was trying to give me forced leg dance again… I might have scared the Asian driver a bit, with my jerking antics. Hehehe!  Anyway, although I had no idea what he was saying to me, his facial expressions showed he would not let me carry anything, and we made out way back up to the flat. He took the parcels and put them in the kitchenette for me. Bless him. I started to sort out the fodder. Only a few things for the freezer. Fries, leeks and waffle bites…

Which I can’t say that I can remember ordering… the waffles I mean? Got the frozen bits in the freezer, (it seemed a logical thing to do at the time, Hehe!) Then sorted the items for the fridge, which ended up rather full.

I’d overdone the desserts, and a box of cakes I ordered, apparently, I did not even like. There were no flowers available for Jenny and Francis’ treats, most annoying. But they did send the strawberries for them.

The cupboard foods had a wonderful surprise for me, the ‘Savers’ generic label Chilli Con Carnie was back in stock, not only that, they allowed me to buy five cans!!! This is my favourite of all the brands of chilli that I’ve tried. Soya pieces in place of meat, and tons of beans, all seasoned to my likes. Gorgeous flavour! Now I have something to live for! Hehehe!

I made up two bags on nibbles, sorry about not getting any daffodils for them. Cleaned up from the sorting things out. Took the bags of waste with me, and the bags on the walker, and delivered them. You wouldn’t believe how long it took in the lifts; when I wanted to down others were going up, so I waited for the next lift I don’t know how many times, and visa-versa when I wanted to get back up. No complaints, at least Morrisons had some strawberries for the gals, and I got my beloved cans of chilli again!

I dropped off the waste bag down the chute and made my way back to the flat. During which it dawned on me how few times in the last hours, I’ve needed a wee-wee? Also, the balance had improved… it’s a funny old life!

By the time I got back into the apartment, I realised what time it was. four PM! 16:00hrs! Late afternoon, and I had not even started on this blog yet! Everything takes so much longer to get done nowadays.

I got the blood pressure and temperature taken. While I remembered that it hadn’t been done yet.

Also, I was beginning to worry that I’d forgotten something that had to be done, or whatever today?

Then,  I noticed as I got the things that I needed for the Health Checks gathered together, how leathery the skin looked n my hands… I suppose it should be expected really at my age. Still, I’ve kept onto my face dimples. Hahaha!

Another set of encouraging results today! The body temperature was almost spot-on the ideal target of 35°c. Can’t moan about these figures at all, never had them any better!

The Blood Pressure returns via the sphygmomanometer were good yet again! Creeping back up a little, maybe? Compared to last week end’s Sys of 208, it shot down to 137, then 142, 144, now 147. But it will settle again, I’m sure… Did I just say that? Har-har, we’ll see.

I spent many hours on this blog. The evening carer is due soon, too. I’ve not had owt to eat yer as well! Or should that be either?

I tried to reply to some WP comments. Most successfully, a few failed? I’ve been trying to reply to Tim Price’s comment on Rescued photographs & diary. But keep getting the red box ‘Comment Failed! – try again’ – which I have many times. Well, Tim below is my failed reply:

The best for ages, Tim, well pleased. Not really my choice of photos, Tim… there are the card readers choice, he’s taken to stopping so many from loading, seemingly at random. I need help here. Hahaha!
Cheers, TTFNski.

Also, I cannot answer my beloved petal Lisa. I’ll try again in the morning. Is it WP? The Computer? Me? Or a combination of all three?

Better get some nosh sorted out, then. Got the beans and veggieburgers served up. I took a photo, but the card reader will not let me get at it.

Evening Care called, but I was not in a good condition, and I was confused when she arrived. No recollection of much. Remember seeing her off and locking the door, as she took the waste bag with her.

Sweet Morpheus resistant.

Inchcock Today: Rescued Photographs and Diary

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

RESCUED PHOTOGRAPHICALISATIONS

Ode to the last few days… It’s been a struggle!

Worra job, fighting the SD card reader, t’was pathetic!
Four days of failing, it was terribly acrostic…
Three or six times a day, I tried and was feeling threnetic,
The neighbour was noisy; I resisted any rhetoric,
Cause I could have hit him with my mashie-niblick!
But at least his noise today is only sporadic.

I know that I’m uneducated, got dementia, and am thick…
But repeated failings to get the piccies on… I felt sick…
Got some of them on today, and then I felt fantastic…
But once out of five days? Proves I’m no clever dick…
But my moods are temporary, changing, erratic…
I can be depressed, then minutes later, charismatic?

Sometimes, well, rarely, I can believe I’m being realistic…
But then consider myself unreliable and eccentric…
Other times concentration can be enjoyed, therapeutic…
But it’s only me being toying with hopes, being simplistic.
Hopes for improvement in mental health and lethargic,
Ever new problems with neurotransmitters and neuralgic.

I don’t expect that life’s ailments or mental logic,
A problem is I’m my own worst critic,
To expect to get back to normal is unrealistic…
I anticipate daily pains and struggles… am I masochistic?
That’s not the word I mean; I do feel a dick…
I somehow cope well with pain that’s chronic?

But not with Peripheral Neuropathy, or owt anapeiratic,
I manage with being deaf and arthritic,
Not Doreen Dementia, who denies anything copacetic…
I try not to get depressed or apathetic,
I can often laugh it off, then I find it all too dramatic,
I cannot cope; I find it all too frantic!

Having got rid of the depressive rot, onward…

Not sure what day this blood test was done, but I’ll hazard a guess on Saturday. To think, a couple of days earlier, the SYS was 208! Noe down to the second-lowest ever! Hehe! I’m not complaining, mind you.

And the body temperature, well, another fantastic result. Almost spot on the target figure (NHS) of 35°c!

I can remember taking this temperature, although not the day – because I dropped the thermometer, bent down to retrieve it, and clouted my head against the corner of the chair. And knocked the camera off of the table, and it would not work for a day or so, Tsk!

This I recognise quickly enough, along with the error I made doing it…

I’d made the nosh for Josie, as usual on a Sunday. Got it just right tastewise, and delivered it to her door at the agreed time of midday, feeling rather smug, with her treats for the weekend on the tray. Josie said nothing out of the usual. But I did an odd look from the gal… had I done something wrong? Mmm!

When I got back to my flat to start my dinner, it came to me… It was Saturday! Not Sunday! I felt such a berk!

I got my fodder served up. Vegetable pastie. Green and black grapes, garden peas, baked potatoes, lemon yoghourt. It was lovely. I granted the meal a taste-Rating of 8/10.

I’ve no idea why I took the picture whatsoever? I think it was on Saturday that I was having problems with the computer, other than the usual regular temper and sanity-testing card reader.

This night (Saturday maybe), the sky seemed a smidge misty with it during the sunsetting process.

I stayed up late to catch it and took these two relatively poor photographicalisations from the kitchen windows.

Saturday night, I think, possibly, mayhaps, if not, then Sunday…

I had a bad bleed from Little Inchies Fungal lesion.

Sunday, I think these results are from. And a fine set of figures they were. Sys 144, DIA 54 (A little low, maybe, but no worries about this), the pulse showed 83.

Well, blow me down, another good reading from my Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer. Dang, close to perfect for the third day!

Ah, my beloved puffer clouds were up in the sky for me to picture them. I recall taking these pictures and suddenly needing the Porcelain Throne, so off I trotted without any delay…

I was sitting on that plastic seat in there for over 25 minutes! I also took a Codeine afterwards to ease the sore bum from the concrete torpedo; I’d just grindingly released with a Clonk of a noise when it landed in the bowl! Constipation Conrad had won the competition against his competitor Trotsky Terence by several lengths. Still, I got a few clues answered in the crossword book.

Another sort of cloudy, hazy sunset that night. Of course, I have no idea what night it was, Sunday or Monday, I imagine.

Buttered tatties, tomatoes, fish fingers, fishcakes with mushy peas inside, and battered fish fingers, Birds Eye as well, and they were crap tasting! Some grapes, and I see the milk roll slices, which was excellent cause I could mask the cardboard taste of the Birds Eys battered fish fingers a little by the bread. Eurgh! The potatoes were undercooked, but they were cooked bu a grand chap (Me!) Hahaha! Flavour: 5/10.

Tuesday’s nosh, this was more like it. There are tons of garden peas, tomatoes, tattie chunks, yellow and red tomatoes, and two sizeable battered fish portions. This fish in batter tasted a lot better than the last Birds Eye ones.

Unfortunately, the rest of the meal was a disappointment, well, crap again, actually! The bananas had gone oversweet with age, the potatoes tasteless, and the peas were bitter and sour. The tomatoes were fair enough. Flavour: 5.5/10.

Wednesday: The Iceland order arrived. I was unsure what to expect after they sent me the chinks that had gone green last week. The driver took the bags through to the kitchenette for me and got his choice of cans in thanks. Three items were not available, and two substitutions, but at least they had better dates on them this week. I got the bags unloaded, doing the freezer and fridge items first.

Tried some of their veggieburgers and pies this time. Frozen, of course, and had a job to get them into the fridge and freezer. The substituted tomatoes were Italian ones, So maybe a disappointment. We’ll see. They usually are but compared to last week’s Algerian ones…

The substituted Richmond sausages, Carer Richard, can have in the morning.

Well, yet another fine set of results from the Health Checks! Sys 133, Dia 70, Pulse 69 (A smidge low again), Then I got the thermometer out.

Brilliant! Four days now since the 248 SYS reading, Yee-Haa! Anyone’s guess is how long these promising results will go on for.

Gong to get some nosh on now. Hopefully, I can make something worthwhile and tasty this time.

Got the chips in the oven. And noted the popularity of the Chestnut Way end car park – And no red-van-man is on sight. Unless he’s parked elsewhere than his favourite spot on the yellow no parking chevrons?

The evening Carer arrived, Valerie (Nibbles). Sorted the medications and took the bag to the chute on her way out.

Got the burnt chips based nosh finished and served up. Do you know, they tasted super-good and so tasty! At last, a decent rated meal. A burger on a cob, tomatoes, and garden peas. For afters, a mini strawberry cheesecake and a banana. Taste Rating: 9/10!

The Amazon ordered slippers arrived a little late on. Thanked the driver and offered his choice of canned refreshments.

I didn’t open the bag yet, I’ll do that in the morning, but I could tell I was going to be disappointed by the shape of the package. It felt more like a giant teddy bear inside than footwear. Squashed up and no doubt well-misshapen. Hey-Ho!

I was deprived of getting to sleep again, can’t blame the Thought-Storms this time – Thoughts of all kinds and types were absent! I was not depressed, just in a passive, what-the-heck mood. Although hours later, after failing to nod off, the darned Thought-Storms did kick off. The long done and gone mistakes I’d made flourished about in my head, seemingly in amazing chronological order? Around 02:20hrs, I put the TV on, a desperate measure… but it seemed to work… Until I sprang awake at 04:00hrs!

The Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe

Inchcock Today – Memories Evoked + Odes

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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!

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Local News Snippets – Part 4⅔rds

/ Inchie / 22 Comments

Local News Snippets – Part 4⅔rds

Last week’s Snippets – Part 4⅔rd,
Crimes committed by the criminal herd?
Murders, knifings, muggings… occurred,
Are sentences being suspended and deferred?
The end of public safety… read my words…

It’s started, the crumbling of morality…
Violent crimes are committed daily & nightly!
Such offences are falling, apparently?
Methinks the Government say this, lyingly!
Crime figures are given with a certain mendacity…

Repeatedly freeing killers early, to murder again,
And yet, so many people do not complain?
The average proletariat shows some disdain,
I’m known locally as a harmless lamebrain…
Who is generally a softy and relatively humane,
Who voted in Brexit to remain…
Now violent crime is sending me to Novocaine!

This young man, is our hopes for the future?

Crime reducing in Nottingham, we were told…
Now multiple murders every week, behold!
The figures are hidden, those unsolved…
Reported crimes are down… down?
That brings on a furrowed brow…
Little faith left in the legal system now!

Four months, suspended for twelve months, and 15 days of rehabilitation activities? Oh, good!.

Then I found this report…

I’m getting confused here…

Bestest ever try… still no cigar…

Link: Unsolved Nottingham Murders

The Nottingham Lads Local News Snippet Series

Inchcocks Photographicalisations, Ode & Diary

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

Photographicalisations & Diary

♫Fings ain’t wot they used to be…♫

Little did I know the above-written ode would turn out!
I’m worried now; I think I had a memory blank or blackout?
Mistakes n everything I tried to create… a mental wipe-out!
It took me all day to get the blog done, a mind whirlabout…
Problems lasted hours… in fact all day, or thereabout?
Couldn’t get to grips with the day, time, everything, a doubt?
I had to keep stopping when the brain went on a gadabout…

Cataracts and glaucoma made things worse…
The noisy, clang-banging Herbert above made me curse…
Went to the Porcelain Throne; the evacuation was vicious,
Rock-solid: it took me half an hour; this is not fictitious!
It felt about the same size as a trolleybus!
One aspect was not painful or scary; quite the reverse…
Painful, yes, but no bleeding from the rear end, thus…
Washed and did the Germoloid creaming. Oh, that soothes!

From Grammarly, mistakes of all sorts, I was being told,
But I pressed on, which I thought was rather bold…
Dizzy Dennis joined me; Herberts’ noises could still be heard,
Why do I feel so bad could still not be answered,

So what I’m waffling on about…
I did my best, but without any doubt…
Faults mistakes you’ll quickly pick out…
Dates and times mostly, serious and nowt…
From start to finish, throughout…
I suppose this Ode is a criticism redoubt!

I can’t really put a date as such,
The photos, taken over 2½ days,
It may be mixed up datewise in a rush…
To get this blog done… with my mind in a haze,
I dun me bestest, please don’t underpraise…

I’m depressed and in pain, in many ways,
I really have had much betterer days and praise…
The coming of tomorrow and better days,
I’m hoping the confusion doesn’t overstay…
And depression finally breaks away!

Forgive any duplicated photos put in,
With wrong dates & times, I know it’s a sin!
The ailments are bothering me out and within,
My hopes for improvement are relatively thin…
Good job that I don’t drink, or I’d have a gin!.

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

Photographs & minimal Memories

By Jimminee, and jolly good heavens above, what an absolute improvement on yesterday’s sphygmomanometerisationing for the level of blood pressure! Comparing it to Thursdays, nerve-wracking 285 Sys!

It tumbled down to 148, and very welcome it was to see it!

The pulse had dropped as well.

 

Another good result from the thermometer.

It was a dead-on target at 35°c.

I think I was; I had a losing battle against Sock-Glide Glenda again in the wet room. SGG 3 – Inchie 0! It all happened so quickly. Having completed getting the socks on, I was, with only one tiny bruise on the foot, and as I stepped over the frame to grip Glenda to remove her… And seconds later, I was on the deck, entangled in her framework! With a bruise that anyone would be proud of on my shoulder. But then…

Getting up back to my feet (bear in mind I had not got any glasses on at the time). I lunged at the grab-rail to assist my getting up… and missed it entirely! I then had a new bruise to add to the shoulder and wrist ones on my flabby belly as I went back down again and made a painful connection with Sock-Glide-Glenda… again! A few scratches as well, but they are pretty. The Carer said so when she came. She was well impressed with the shoulder bruise. But her favourite was the blotch come bruise on my left man-breast nipple; she was very keen on the pinkness and swelling. Hahaha!

The Iceland food arrived. I’m sure I’ve put all these on before, but it won’t hurt for anyone who may order beef chunks from Iceland to see the photographs of the three packs I bought again. They were all within the sell-by date, too!

On Special offer, I just looked at this close up of the red and khaki coloured lumps they’d sent! It was the same or similar colouring? It reminded me of the only time I’ve seen horsemeat served.

The JS Sainsbury delivery. In the centre of this picture, on the right, you’ll see three tiny sourdough cobs that cost more than the milk roll bread. Talk about hard! Gawd, blimey, they were 80% crust. Did my teeth no good. But I ate what I could salvage from the concrete balls of sourdough later on? 

The ‘Best’ potatoes all had growths of bruises on them.

Can’t recall what night I made this meal. But I can remember enjoying it pretty well. The fishcakes with peas in them were tasty enough, the potato waffles were terrible, as were the fish fingers, all vegetarian. The tomatoes tasted excellent, cake and banana, but the vegan cakes cost more money. The potatoes and peas were disappointing. Taste Rating: 6.5/10.

I think I’ve shown this photo, but I am not sure. Sourdough bread, the Polish style one, mushroom pate and tomatoes, a soft imitation cheese portion, were almost as bad as the cakes. But that bread and pate. Was gorgeous.

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Mike Fries: A good looking, Mafia-type, $23 million wage earner – no, I’ll take that back, he is not an earner to me.
But, I admire his cunningness in convincing his paymasters at Liberty-Global, to pay out $15 billion to buy out Mr Branson’s Virgin Media. Then instructing the UK telecom call-centre team, never to mention Liberty-Global to any customers? Thus, Mike Fries cannot get his $15b internet service to run for a day without going down several times – and Richard Branson gets all the name-calling and abuse. (He’s clever, you know!)

I imagine that if any proletariat call-centre person was caught mentioning the name Liberty-Global to any poor Virgin Media customers… The least they would come away with would be getting knee-capped & sacked?

He’s a Smoke & Mirrors expert. A figure-conjurer of the highest order. The bosses at the top get the complete treatment from his financial sleight of hand and legerdemain skills. They likely actually are being convinced by Fries of the competency of Virgin Media? Which, of course, does not exist.

There’ll be some financial hocus-pocus going on that convinces the top dogs of his profit-making for them, even if only on paper, so’s to speak. It’ll be out of my league!

I believe his flimflam, hanky-panky, and double-dealings will never be caught. So effective are his smoke & mirrors techniques.

This is a shame because despite wishing him a slow, excruciatingly painful death for his cheating ways and knackering me up every day with his Virgin internet repeatedly failing.

I like his style.

I’m jealous probably. Hahaha!

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

Evening Carer’s just called. Another new gal, pleasant enough with me. I insisted she had some treats, a nibble and a drinkie for putting up with my constant moaning about life. Hehehe!

It’s late now; I’m ready for summat to eat and a kip. I’ve got some spuds baking, pod plead in the saucepan, and a veggie pastie to add to the potatoes if I don’t fall to sleep first. I’ll try to get this finished in the morning.

I’d like to stay awake long enough to get some sunset shots. If Colin Cramps visits again when I get down, I should at least get the sunset photo’d if no sleep. Har-Har!

As I was going to have a check on the fodder cooking, I heard a clattering noise from the room I’d just left. I went back to investigate…

The new giant faux-fur brown throw had somehow or other, slid off of the £300, c1968, second-hand, decrepit, rickety recliner, taking to the floor with it: my Wood-Waking-Stick-Walter, Picker-Upperer-Percival, Shoe-Horn-Horis,  a towel, two pairs of trousers, a pot of Cheeselets, two bottles of spring water, and two cushions! Harrumph!

I got things sorted things out again. And then went back to the kitchen to get the meal prepped and served up. No sunset as such, but the view was eerily misty, enough for me to take a snap.

photographicalisation. Served up the fodder. Two veggie pasties, two potatoes baked, halved and plant butter added. fresh garden peas and tomatoes. A banana and pot of dessert. Taste Rating: 7.8/10.

I got sorted and down to try and stay awake long enough to watch my first episode of Grimm. It started at 22:00hrs, which is too late for me normally. I remember checking the schedule, and it was 15 minutes before Grimm started on the same channel… and thinking at last I’ll get to watch it… Of course, Sweet Morpheus got me, and off to kip, I went before seeing the program start!

I woke a few hours later, a selling channel was on then. I rose for a wee-wee and needed the Porcelain Throne as I was on my way to the wet room.

Rock-solid again! A good hour I was in there, going through pain and having to make it worse by giving my best supportive efforts to constantly edge the concrete torpedo out from the rear end. Gawd it felt good afterwards, though!

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

Inchcocks Local News Snippets – Issue 31⅕th

/ Inchie / 29 Comments

Issue 31⅕th

I’m pleased to be able to report,
This issue has less violence of a sort,
Minor stuff, no murders, that’s a comfort,
Cause I may find one later, to import…
There’s no need to feel distraught,
There’ll soon be more, for me to flaunt!

Here we go…

Mental Health Act, I worry about it a bit…
Many members of my family have known it…
Malcolm, and others, they have seen fit…
Locked up, losing their citizenship…
One chap, they even gave him the snip?
He hurt no one, ever, but he still got zapped?
Now my family have gone off to the crypt!

Yet none of them had committed rape or murder,
If the mentally ill are considered a danger…
Could we not have discovered this much earlier?
Stop waging war, spend money wiser…
I’m getting confused, I’m not a scaremonger…
Drug gangs, Putin, murderers, muggers and pillagers,
Greed for cash… to show off and swagger!

Nor am I in my right mind, due to Doreen’s Dementia,
I’ve not led a life, with very much adventure…
But the mentally ill can be more of a danger…
Cause we rarely find out, before they become a killer!
That they have a problem, but a lawyer is a great deluder…
Claiming mental problems, voices hear, trickery here!

As with the parole board, that frees many a murderer,
To kill again… can justice really be absurderer?
So many innocents, now laying in their sepulture…
Because of the legal system, and its pathetic nomenclature!

Life imprisonment, they get out in ten?
This is not rare, it’s happened so often…
Judges pretending that the case is disproven…
Like backhander taking referees, the Government to please,
Keep the scum out of prison, the cost does displease…
It’s cheaper to make them into parolees…
So they can murder again, and with such f’ing ease!

Fair enough, put her in hospital, to play with frisbees,
She can be assessed regularly, by overpaid committees?
She’s better now, all the parole board might agree…
They may say no, either way, it doesn’t bother their fees!
Will mental murders ever start to decrease…
Is the legal system bothered at all? That’s the wheeze!
I’m sure we could find a way to help earlier, Please!
Before we have yet another innocent, deceased!

Humankind, seem to be losing the ability for conferring…
As well as bantering, bartering, and also, discussing…
Although some other qualities, they are practising,
Like moaning, complaining, thumping, mugging…
Battering, stabbing, lying, cheating, conning…
Grovelling, drinking, drugging, belching, killing…
Bedevilling, befuddling, begalling, belittling…
Caterwauling, shoplifting, fiddling, crime and spitting,
They have taken to with eagerness, and willingness.

This violence is getting a little close to home mate!
Like Putin, who validates it’s okay to annihilate!
Drink, drugs and sex, can easily overstimulate,
They put men on the moon, dead cells rejuvenate…
Shame the proletariats’ brains won’t recalibrate!
Mistakes my those in power, they just replicate…
Knowing their failings are worse than Watergate!

Oh, yes?

Even closer to my Woodthorpe Court, great!
Burglaries, break-ins, what a spate…
I think I’ll hibernate and vegetate?
Till Jesus returns, not long to wait!

Conditional bail? Sounds dodgy, to me?
What are the conditions? What do they be?
Why have they let this animal roam free?
Justice is farcical, in this country!

I’ll try to follow this one!

Local Postcode Crimes v National

The NG5 4DZ Crime Map. Been busy ain’t they?

A scumball like that does not deserve a lawyer for free! At least he got a prat of a lawyer, who could only tell the judge that he’d been a good boy, in mitigation. With his record, how he got off so lightly just proves my saying that the law is an ass!

This Below is really sad… Heartbreaking!

Everyone is a loser!

RIP Ray Dixon

ROGUES GALLERY

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Local News Snippets: With Ode Comments, Part 11⅛th

/ Inchie / 22 Comments

Local News Snippets
With Ode Comments Part 11⅛th

Nottinghamshire News

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

How many more people are the Government and Parole Boards going to get murdered? Why are the namby-pamby, battling for prisoners-rights, pathetic parole board members getting it wrong and freeing so many killers? Why do killers have so many rights? Other than to get to use the gallows, they should have none!

On March 9, 1950, a young Welshman living in London was sentenced to death for one of the worst crimes imaginable – the brutal murder of his wife and young child. After a whistle-stop trial lasting just three days, Timothy Evans was convicted and subsequently executed for the murder of his wife Beryl and 14-month-od daughter Geraldine. So, again, who was to blame?

And they do – REPEATEDLY!

Following the unmasking of Christie, a campaign led by many prominent journalists and newspapers sought to highlight what they said was a miscarriage of justice. Still, two official inquiries ordered by the Home Office found nothing wrong. The first, led by John Scott Henderson QC, upheld Evans’ conviction, concluding that Christie’s confession of murdering Beryl Evans was unreliable because it was made to support his defence that he was insane. The second, chaired by High Court judge Sir Daniel Brabin, found it was “more probable than not” that Evans murdered his wife and that he did not murder his daughter – contrary to the prosecution case in the original trial. Yet still, they get things wrong! Jailed ‘for life’ (Hahaha!), but freed to kill again: Shocking new data reveals that 149 criminals have joined the ranks of ‘double-lifers’ over the last ten years to kill again! Our legal systems gang of rich misfits are guilty themselves yet once more.

No wonder freed killers don’t target judges, lawyers or parole officers!

I wonder what would happen if they catch the scumball?
His lawyer will claim he’s going demential?
He took a pain pill once, and now he’s hooked on Ketamine Special?
His ten past convictions have only been financial?
He’s a Covid doctor and must keep his job; it’s essential?
An Auntie touched his knee; his emotions were conflictual?
He got raped by a male cat; unsure if he’s homosexual?
His teachers forced him to play football?
All he wanted was to be an intellectual?
Hit his head, twixt right and wrong are not recognisable?

Conning the judge? Easy, malleable, manageable, and manipulable!
The barrister tells him his clients’ past crimes are nullifiable…
He admits to this charge, for it is not deniable…
Really my client is the one who is pitiable…
He’s not stabbed or raped anyone for weeks; surely that’s praisable?
His motives were not malignant or questionable…
Although his actions he now finds regrettable…
Would a case of Glenfiddich 1937 be acceptable?

A potential trial in September?
Nothing about our legal system is certain,
Then October, maybe even November?
The judge has to break for tea and a frangipane,
Or not at all, unless the judge can keep sober…

And how long before this pair of shits is free again?
By the look of them, their dink must be high-octane…
They don’t look respectable or humane…
They ought to be stuck on top of a weathervane…
I’d sentence them both to an overdose of lidocaine…
I bet the soft judge sentencing, he’ll maintain…
While locked up, they cannot to innocents give pain…
They’ll be out, molesting, hurting and raping again!

An eighteen-year-old attacks five… Holy shit!
Hands and arms of officers and guards he bit?
Well, you can’t say he has no drive and spirit?
Every officer took some form of a kick or hit…
One guard thinks the lad broke a digit?
It took five of them to get him in the car, then the git…
Another officer got kicked on the chin; Gawdamit!
I hope the police carried a haematocrit!

Good heavens, what next! The Black Death?

A fifteen-year sentence?
With an 8-year extended licence?
Eh! What’s all this nonsense?
Chicanery or maybe ambivalence?
Hope it’s not the judges’ munificence?
I looked it up; it proves this judge has sentience!
The additional term in the nick… With I hope, quiescence!
To keep people safe from his concupiscence!
Fancy a judge showing some prospicience!

Looks decent to me?

Well, dang my eye, a conflicting report?
The changing figures seem a little distort…
One set gives fears, the other one comfort?
Still, I’m going to get myself all fraught…
I’ll chew on my bar of strawberry noughat!

What a dodgy looking set of villains!

Elizabeth Dodds, prosecuting, said the steroids, a class C drug, were worth between £90 and £120 on the outside, but in jail, the value increased tenfold up to £1,200. When questioned, Kirkland – who has 139 offences to her name, mainly for shoplifting – announced: “It was just tobacco.” Hahaha!

Alternative accommodation to be found?
Somewhere mayhaps snowbound or icebound?
Somewhere suitable six-foot underground?
Where food has to be begged for or scrounged?
Where freedom again will never be tasted or found!

Well, I’m back to my usual on the find three-houses competition,
Not that this encourages any mardiness or derision!
I never expected to win, although that would be a sensation!
If I was to win anything, I’d lose my identification…
As the unluckiest person in the world, in any Nation…
I’ve not won owt for donkey years; I’ve lost the motivation!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Late Snippet

13 and 12 months. Do they look like they’re bothered? No wonder I have no faith in the future. There will be more and more violence – and fewer and fewer deterrents.

The End Is Nigh!

Ah, well! I’d berra get summat to eat then.

Inchcock Today Diary – With Ode

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

Morning each!

Inchies Morning Ode

Wot a start to the day, confusion, logic had been abducted!
The Thought-Storms rampantness; I was abducted,
Fears and worries abounded, leaving me so abstracted…
I rose to worry more; I was totally distracted!

So many things flooded, but nothing with any merit!
Cataracts, Glaucoma, Saccades, fungal lesion, all did wherrit,
If common sense was a ballot, I’d lose my deposit!
These thoughts were unnice, not in friendship…

I got depression until Carer Richard came…
He was in a rush, he had a limited timeframe,
But listen to me moaning, all the same,
Lots in common, we both have an oversized wame!
Neither of us bothered about profit or gain…
Such a decent sort; I’m so glad he came!

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

INCHCOCK TODAY

Monday 4th April 2022

I sort of burst awake; the Thought Storms were straight at me, not relenting for hours. Shame, guilt, worries etc., flowed into my mind one after the other… Guilt was the predominant emotion, along with a close second for shame! Possibly my worst attack of them ever?

I rose within a minute from the second-hand c1966 recliner, and I took a weak unwilling wee-wee in the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket). Then took it into the wet room to empty and clean and refresh. While in there, I decided to get the ablutions done early.

I think I felt that a shave and shower might free me from the Dracula Depression that had me firmly in its grasp this morning. I fear I didn’t think about the time, so early in the morning and the shower’s noise, and just plodded on unthinkingly. Shame! I’ve never done that before?

I was still not fully engaged in the concentration stakes, taking the jammie bottoms off… I took a tumble backwards… but fear not! I took them off in the hallway (I’m so glad now that I did, too!). Cause I benefited from my back hitting a stack of clothes hanging on the hallway hooks! And took a slow cushioned ride down to the carpet. Hehehe! Although, I didn’t laugh then, until after I had succeeded in getting back up onto my feet.

The teggie-cleaning went fine. The cleaning of the final lesion was no more painful than usual. Then the showering… I realised what time it was as soon I heard noise from the shower unit and felt somewhat culpable. So, I decided a swift shower was in order…

With the rushing about, I hit my head on the power box and carried out a most painful toe-stubbing on the trolley wheel. But I didn’t dwell on these things, for I was in such haste to turn of the power and noise it was making. Then I got around to doing the shaving…

Which turned out to be a rather colourful event… blood red!

There were no nasty nicks… but countless tiny ones all over the double-chin and neck! Unless there are more that I can’t see. Hehe!

But I knew the solution and had a bottle located nearby. But I managed to drop it, and it landed on the floor via the right foot! Also, the bottle did not break! The Brut aftershave was liberally used to stop the bleeding a little. It’s suitable for this job, it stings a bit, but it works!

Then, I turned my attention to medicationalisationings. Little Inchies fungal lesion… I got that out of the way first cause there was never any doubt it would be the most painful. And it was!

After cleaning, Harold’s Haemorrhoids were given an expensive but oh, so cooling covering of Germoloid ointment.

Then the eye drops were carefully and meticulously put in the Saccades suffering right eye. I missed, and the brown liquid ran down the cheek through the moustache and into the mouth. Tsk!

Put the olive oil into the ear canals. And fought to get the socks on, waiting to put a second lot of oil in. I’m supposed to wait for ten minutes in between each application. I didn’t use Sock-Glide-Glenda today. Not that I’m afraid of injury or sick of getting bruises and welts from the damned plastic covered, metal monstrosity of a sock glide, of course.

Did the second oiling of the ear holes. Nae, bother there.

Then did the nasal clearing.

Then I got the manufactured by ZDEAC Daguan Electrical Appliance (Zhongshan Company Ltd) in Guangdong, Sphygmomanometer, to do the Blood Pressure. It had gone down a lot, but a smidge high still, in the red zone, but not by a lot. The body temperature was pleasing at 34.6°c. I think the pulse was 71 bpm. I can’t read it in this photo. Not one of the betterer efforts.

Went to make a brew of Glengettie. The rain was still coming down in torrents.

Carer Richard arrived, in a bit of a hurry, as he had an extra call to make. While he was sorting the medications out, stock wise, I got a message on the phone from Iceland, telling me the delivery was on its way…

It seems I’ve done it again… made a right cock-up. I was sure I’d ordered this for the following Monday? I got a bit hot under the collar with myself about getting things wrong again! I told Richard quickly about m morning so far, and he said he could see the blood on my neck from the shaving farce. He had to fly, taking the waste bags to the chute with him on the way for me. Bless him.

After he’d gone, I seemed to calm down and went into ‘Just accept things’ mode. Sort of que sera, sera. Got on the computer and found the photo of the nosh last night that I could not get to load was with those the reader let me this morning, I think.

Two out of date (only just) desserts, a banana (going soft), bacon two days out of date, tomatoes and some Harry Ramsdens chips that were delightful. Rating: 702/10.

Then, the Iceland delivery arrived. No substitutes either! Hurrah! Some more of the excellent chips, a big bag too. Gastro fishcakes that were on offer if one bought three boxes and mug here did, three with smoked haddock in them and three with mushy peas in them – as the same price? Noughat flavoured iced lollies and a box of beef and black bean sauce in this top picture.

Mushrooms, microwave veg sausages, and some pasties here. I used some mushrooms to go in today’s potato and leek, erm er… whatchamacallit? Stew, I suppose, or thick soup?

Getting things to fit in the fridge was a work of art and meant a lot of hard work and throwing out some items to make room for the new stuff. I doubt I could get a matchbox in there now, not that I want to, of course. It is fuller than it’s ever been! I even took the fishcakes out of their box to get them in the freezer and other things, as you can see.

On the other hand, the fridge, after storing everything away, seems to be able to accommodate more foodstuffs, still?

Back to the wet room, hoping for an easy evacuation like yesterday was, it was almost a pleasure… But no! A reversal of fortunes, I’m afraid. Tough as nuts, firm but not rock-hard, plenty of plasma-like liquid and a smidgeon of blood. You can’t win ’em all! Washed and off to the kitchenette.

Where I got the leeks and potatoes cut up and in the pan. Then to the computer to finish off yesterday’s blog. Which I did and posted to WP. Then answered and made some comments on WordPress. Replied to Lovely HRH Lisa’s Email. I Managed to get some more photos loaded.

Facebooking for a while, then went to season the leeks & spuds. 

Diced some mushrooms, water chestnuts, and tomatoes, and into the pan they went. Adding and tasting after each addition; basil, tom puree, light soy sauce, Henderson’s relish, spirit vinegar, liquid sea salt and veg seasoning cubes. On a low light, and I kept going in to stir it.

Made a start on this blog; it’s getting late now. Compared to this morning, I’m rather chirpy… not happy, not content, yet glad to be free of the dark gloom of depression.

♫ Oh, Susana ♫ rang from the door chime. It was Josie returning the things from her Sunday lunch. She said she enjoyed the leek and potato chilli.

I got the veg chill served up. Settled to watch some TV while I ate the delightfully tasty meal. I ate it all, which bodes of Porcelain Throne action in the morning… Oh, dearie me, yes! Taste: 8/10.

I then proceeded to fall asleep with the tray with emptied dish, spoon, jelly pot and a few slices of uneaten bread on my knee.

An hour or so later, I woke without the tray with the emptied dish, spoon, jelly pot, and a few slices of uneaten bread on my knee. They had fallen on the floor, creating a piece of modern art. Sorry I didn’t photo it now!

It took me a while to get it cleaned up. I made two bottles of flavoured spring water and then got down in the recliner again to try to watch the TV once more.

♫ Oh, Susana ♫ rang from the door chime. It was the evening, Carer. Who got the medications sorted post haste. The gal took the waste bags with her as she departed. Bless her. Bade a farewell, and I got back down in the c1968 recliner.

I thought I may struggle to get back to sleep after nodding off earlier. Bearing in mind that it took me hours to nod off for the last two nights. No problem! Zzz! But it was a short session.

Inchcock Today: Monday 28th March 2022

/ Inchie / 3 Comments

MONDAY 28th MARCH 2022

In Brief & Ode

Problems a few, well, really quite a load…
Accifauxpas, bleeding, no real Smug-Mode…
Noisy Herbert, getting on my goad…
Memory blanks, mistakes made? A shitload!
I had to look up my own postcode!
The Thought-Storms constantly flowed…
Wee-weeing? The bucket nearly overflowed!
Stabbed myself with a toothbrush up my nose,
Will it get worse, discommode? Nobody knows…
What evils and stupidity Satan may bestow?
I’ll have a mug of tea and a marshmallow!

Haveth a great day!

05:30hrs, the usual jumping awake, with a verbal “Uhrge!” arrived. I pondered a few seconds to check on the time, day and need to activate the brain to join the body into some form of starting.

My hazy and befuddled brain sorted itself out in a fashion, and I decided to get the sphygmomanometerisationing done first thing. The grey plastic was half-filled before I started this slash. By the time I’d escaped the c1966 recliner, the need for a wee-wee had developed. And the urine flowed and splashed at a rate and pace never known before! How I held onto the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), I don’t know. But obviously, I had been wee-weeing throughout the night.

I still can’t work out how someone in my condition can free themselves from the recliner, take the few paces to the bucket, pass water (ferociously!) and get back down again… even once, and yet, not know he’s done it; when he wakes up? Someone must understand this. A psychologist or somebody? Which followed nearly every one of the wee-wees that followed today, and there were dozens of them! No wonder I can feel the dampness in the protection pants of the damned PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling).

There was much handling of things in washing and cleaning; poor Little Inchies’ fungal lesion started bleeding again later on. Humph!

I finally got around to taking the Blood Pressure. A fine set of figures they were too! SIA 144, DIA 48 and Pulse at 72… No, hang on. The DIA’s a good bit low… I’ll check it out.

No, that’s not too bad, only just in the red area anyway. For some reason, the low DIA brought it up overall a smidgeon. I’ve had it a lot worse than that. Last week one day, it was Sys 171, so I’m not fretting.

I used my Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer. The result was a bit higher this time, almost on the target figure of 35!

All went well, apart from the teeth cleaning, which was bloody. Thanks to ailment number eleven, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley. As it did two days ago when she made me drop the mug of Glengettie, her timing was cruelly well-timed. I was about to put the brush in my mouth, and she struck! Despite it being the brush end than entered my nasal channel, it was so fierce that it brought blood. However, it could have been worse, and I soon dried it up. A bit sore now, though, Hehehe!

I started updating yesterday’s blog, and Carer Richard arrived. The poor lad didn’t look too good; he was obviously weary, worn out, tired at the end of his shift. I brought him around a smidgeon with some nattering and a laugh or two, as much as was possible. I think his blood count was low. He said on leaving, he’s going to take his own medicines and get his head down as soon as he gets home. He still had a chinwag, though; I appreciated that from the man. Bade him good luck and health as he left, taking the taste bags with him for me to the chute.

I then spent hours trying to get the Card Reader to work to get the photos on the computer. I was at the limit of my patience and know-how of what else I could try… and wallah! The card suddenly returned to working mode? Although there have been odd, weird times when it tells me the reader is not recognised. So frustrating, I lost hours on the day messing about, turning everything off and back on, the card in and out of the slot… swearing, and at one point, I almost cried!

Eventually, I got the blog finished and posted it off to WordPress. Thank heavens for that!

Time for a mug of Glengettie!

I took these photographs of the view from the kitchenette window. The first one to the left (South), the second down almost straight ahead (East), finally one to the right (North)

I pressed on with starting this blog going. It was concentrating mind…

My sociable, kind, understanding, compassionate, snotty-nosed neighbour above started his clunking, banging noises with some venom. I think he’s realised he was not so bad yesterday and is making up for it?

I stopped to make a brew of Glengettie, wrapping the tea bag up and placing it in the small waste bag; this is what I saw (on the right here). My initial reaction was… Argh! Another Boll Weevil! Oh dearie me! Out came the sprays, and the kitchen got a good covering in all corners and every hidey-hole or corner that I could get at!

I got what I thought was the offending animal out of the bag – but I could not see if it was a weevil or something else, thanks to Cataracts Kathleen, Glaucoma Gladys and Saccades Sandra.

Well, well, well! Another cock-up made yesterday, discovered! Tsk! I looked at the watch, then the clock. A difference in time showing? I’d forgotten to put the clock forwards with all the others, but a true Masterstroke-Whoopsiedangleplop with the new square, easier-to-see wristwatch! I’d put that backwards instead of forwards!!! Humph! It took me a while to work out what time it was now! So, I now have no idea when I got up this morning.

The sky turned into a bright blue; I’m glad I caught it with the Canon cause minutes later, it had turned back into a bright pale blue shade. It turned out to be a decent effort, I thought for once.

I took a photograph of the Chestnut Way end car park. It appears that the Red Van Man has not used his vehicle since yesterday. Hope he’s not poorly. Time to get some fodder organised.

The evening carer arrived and soon had the medicationalisationing sorted out. Took the waste bag with her to the chute for me on her way out.

I took an easy option tonight. Cooked some mushrooms with balsamic vinegar, squid sauce and chillies powder. (Not as ad as it sounds as it turned out, Hehe!) I sliced some lovely yellow tomatoes and forced myself to cut up some of the sickeningly bitter, foul-tasting Moroccan red tomatoes. Added the last of the ‘Batter bits’, a small apple and a banana. A Lemon and Lime M&S yoghourt that needed a mortgage to buy. And tucked into the feast… Oh, and of course, with the two hot dogs with BBQ sauce added. Flavour rating 7.2/10.

I went to Washed the pots, then me, Putting the trousers back on afterwards by mistake for the jammie bottoms! Tsk! Then settled to watch my favourite TV show, ‘Heartbeat’.

I couldn’t enjoy the programme properly, cause Colin Cramps visited my left hand and fingers. Never known him to be so painful and persistent!

Unbelievably, Colin Cramps stopped tormenting me the very moment that the end credits rolled for ‘Heartbeat’. Ah, well!

I rose for a wee-wee, and boy, had I taken some over the day! On the bright side, Little Inchies lesion was not bleeding. Check the taps (faucets) and electrics, and I got down in the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working recliner.

The Thought-Storms kicked off straight away. They dragged things from over sixty-plus years ago; my errors, bad choices, failures… on and on, they kept coming! Some I had actually forgotten about altogether… they had to be mused over. I’ve no idea why; it only made me more depressed.

Out of desperation for sleep and to escape the storming, I turned the TV back on. Which worked… but at the same time, Colin Cramps attacked again in the same hand!

I think it was gone midnight again before I managed to nod off. Well, that’s not exactly right. I realised I’d not taken the Hemp capsule again! I nodded off many times, but only for a minute, then I’d shoot awake again.

At least the Thought Storms had given up on me, only to be replaced with Self-Hating-Harvey. I suppose that Dementia Doreen is at the route of things…