Inchy Today: Sunday 20th July 2025

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ODE TO CONCENTRATION KONRAD
One of my ailments is Konrad Concentration…
Not to be confused with Conrad Constipation,
Although both are ace at obstruction and prohibition,
Konrad, in control of memory blocking & recollection,
Conrad, in charge of my back passage obstruction,
Causing pain, and Haemorrhoid Harold’s bleeding,
Conrad swaps with Trotsky Terence often…
Trotsky guarantees a liquid, pongy evacuation,
It reverses the next day, rock hard, tarnation!
Concentration Konrad does not bring physical trusion.
The hassles that come from Konrad Concentration
Are mental, cognitively, unending, in perpetuation,
My responses can vary, sometimes an epiphenomenon,
A byproduct, physiological, needing explication…
Often bringing on self-expostulation,
I think that Konrad’s affects need explaining,
I see the neurosurgeon re. my upcoming trefination…
Not until November; I’ve no trepidation,
Until then, my brain is forgetting & fragmenting…
Frustrated, self-hating, waiting, with some aggression,
There are times that I’m 100% certain,
That something was done right, then became uncertain,
Change my mind again – mental vociferation,
Did I know, then, how if so? Flashforwarding…
These instances can involve anything,
Appointments, dates, and times – do I get fussbudgeting?
Not knowing leads to self-vilification and condemnation,
I am mentally challenged, FND, or maybe a vaurien?
Three years ago, a psychiatrist mentioned verbigeration,
What does it mean? I looked it up, but I’ve forgotten,
I must do it again. Will I? Here’s hoping,
Last night, I gazed out at the gloaming…
Something weird was beginning,
I left my body and floated up to look back down at me…
I was there, but I looked to be about three,
No more memory of what happened, you see,
Suddenly, I was in the hospital having an angiography,
Then back in the wet room, emptying my pouch of pee!
The door chime chimed, rudely waking me,

I wish an oneirocritic would analyse this for me!

BONUS ODE
If a politician lied, can it be called insinuated?
Or, claim it’s proposed, suggested, even adumbrated, 
Can Starmer’s lies by omission be shrouded? 

I think he should be hanged or guillotined,
He’s a reprobate, immoral, degenerated,
SpecSavers, Arsenal, Sausages & hostagers,
To taking backhanders, he is not averse, 
Robbing, fiddling, killing pensioners, & farmers
,
Backhanders? Arsenal, glasses, 
For his wife, designer outfits,
Lord Alli gave £500,000+ to Labour over 20 years,
Corporate box: by Arsenal valued at 8,950 pounds,
40 sets of free tickets during his time as leader,
£698 of Coldplay tickets in Manchester,
£4,000 of hospitality at a Taylor Swift concert,
Accommodation valued at more than 20,000 pounds, Glasses valued at £2,485 pounds,
£4,475 of discounted personal training sessions,
A free £4,500 holiday to Welsh beauty spots,
£5000+ from various gastronomers,
A suggestion of hidden gifts of beverages!

Wouldn’t surprise me to see MP abscotchalaters,
Keir’s not exactly surrounded by MP artificers,
Or honest, reliable HMG inspectrices,
I hope Starmer doesn’t miss any Arsenal fixtures,
Hope the git doesn’t get any snottier,
I hope he gets even more unpopular,
And meets his own assasinator,
If not, he dies of gonorrhoea.
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Catching up.
That’s that done.

Well, look at this…
YEE-HAA!
Mind you, DDDDD took over again
around teatime. Humph!

05:20hrs: I reluctantly dragged myself, still feeling tired out, from the bed.

Got the nocturnal pouch emptied. I took a sample first, so the Carer could grade it later.

I took this snap above of the misty,
but tickling with rain, morning.

Carer Ejaz arrived. Sorted the medications and issued them. Then, the lad performed a body check, applying Cetraben cream to the areas that needed it.
He checked Lymphoreoa Leslie’s leg wound and said he would change it on Monday if it got any worse. I thought it was fine, apart from the neuropathy-driven electric shocks being more regular today. I put this down to the patch dropping off so regularly; Mizra had put tape on it to keep it in place. Ejaz changed his mind and applied a new patch, retaping it firmly in place. Seconds later, the body fluid could be seen leaking under the plaster. As expected, with the tape being tight, but it’s better than the plaster falling off. Don’t worry, the nurse is due on Monday or Tuesday. I’m dreading Wednesday’s medical day. I may have to miss blogs off. But not if I can help it.

Ejaz then creamed the hand injury, & took a photograph of it. It looks a lot worse than it really is in this snap. It’s drying up and scabbing now, which is a good sign, methinks. 

A few hours on the blog, and the food delivery arrived. I retrieved the bags from where they were left in the foyer, carried them to the kitchen, and put them away. Got some garden peas.

I’ll have a super choice tonight.

I did have a bit of an Accifaupas, though.
I caught the hand wound as I
was putting things in the fridge.
Nothing really, wiped it with a tissue,
and it stopped bleeding.

Carer Mizra called, or was it Carer
Akeyo? I’m going out of it again here.

I took another sky shot.

I’ll have to take a stand-up shave and wash now.
Still can’t have a shower cause of the leg.
Back in a bit. I’ll try to rush it (not the shaving
bit). To get it done before the next Carer call.

All done and eaten!

Carer Mizra did the last call. I performed safety checks in the kitchen and fitted the night catheter bag. The lad looked tired; I was his last call.

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Be Good, Be Well, & Bless You!
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Inchy Today: Monday 12th May 2025

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In this Ode, I’ll not mention Starmer,
See that? I’m already a proven liar!
I’m not an activator, actuator or advocator,
Believing once Labour got in power…
It would be a poor man’s financial alleviator,
Not a disabled and pensioner aggravator!
Nor a doom and gloom annunciator,
Our future has never been bleaker,
I don’t trust the HMG, MP, PM or speaker,
Labour: experts in taking a backhander,
I could kick him up his detrusor…
Jinx or hex him; it’d be my pleasure!
My loathing gets ever deeper,
Keir’s decisions get even creepier,
Voters crumbling-hopes get damneder,
His clever use of semi-lies & implicature…
Prevents prosecution… he is a barrister!
Who freed child killers & an axe murderer,
He’s responsible for killing off many a pensioner,
Bankrupting the family farmer…
Feathering his own nest, a meshuggener?
The man is a nihilist, self-profit-seeking,
His expense claims: do they need questioning?
No doubt about it, he’s a naysayer,
He’s likely suffering from peniaphobia,
Scared to death of becoming a pauper,
With brain cells ever working, reticular,
I noticed he’s also a slangwhanger,
He’s earned an early sepulchre,
The slower & more painful, the better!
I may sound like a hard-done-to squaller,
These odes prove I’m a schlepper…
With Starmer being a snollygoster,
He commits crimes, lies & sclaunder…
He gets away with it; that’s spectacular!
That’s because he was a high-class lawyer,
The perfect con man & thimblerigger,
As a PM, naturally, he’s titular,
He got elected because he’s a liar,
Two-faced, deceitful, a conniver,
A guilty promise-breaker
An oathed decision reverser,
A farmer & pensioner depriver,
One other thing in particular,
He also got, is, uranomania!
Divinity? He believes it! Hehehe!
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05:20hrs: I shot out of bed and leapt over the second-hand shop bought nine years ago for £300, c1966, discomfiting, alarmingly beige-coloured, crumb-containing, TV remote hiding, not working recliner. Doing a backward summersault, landing face down, and after doing a few hundred press-ups… 
It’s no good; I’m such a terrible fibber!
I inched my legs off of the bed. The catheter contraption straps were painful this morning. I detached the nocturnal catheter bag and rose rather too quickly to get the cream and rub some on the leg straps on the leg. I fell backwards on the corner of the bed and felt bleeding.
So, with the bum and top of the leg bleeding, I hobbled into the kitchen to check the taps and stove initially. But I got sidetracked when I saw the amazingly clear sky. I got Kodak Tim Two and took this snap of the clouds. Then, I took another wider shot. The Sun was already beginning to come through from behind and causing a mist on the horison.

I went to the wet room, where I decided to tend to the mess before applying the barrier cream. I cleaned the few teeth I had left and used the mouthwash. I then realised I had not put in the hearing aids. So, I went to fetch and fit them to see if anyone should call early. With the hearing aids in, I heard a strange noise from the kitchen—a tinkling sound.
Yee Gods! The fourth time in three days! Grrr!
Luckily, it had not been running too long, and the hot water was still reasonably hot enough for me to get the shaving done.
Get ready for this, folks… Dang dang, dang, Dang!
Not a single nick, let alone cut shaving!  
A fair bit of medicationings was needed. But I’ve had worse, so no complaints.
Cleaned the glasses. Did a hearing aid battery check. Olive oiled the earholes. Dry eye spray was used. Then, the Blepharitis gel. Phorpain gelled both of Arthur Itis’s knees. Both cartilages, Chloe & Carole, are at the back of the knees. I barrier creamed my armpits, underneath my man breasts and groin, paying careful attention to SOSTH (Spanish Onion Sized Testicle Henry). Below my bulging belly, my still bleeding rear-end sternum. Germolened both ankle ulcers. Then, I got new straps onto the catheter contraption. Barrier creamed them before fitting. Then I tackled .
I’m using the new-to-me Terbinafine hydrochloride cream. I’m also applying the new dropper before the much-feared pain of rubbing it in  Med Hydr I can assure you that it was thrown in the waste bin! I’ll never use that again! I shall stick with Betamethasone in the future, even if I have to buy it. Too Painful? YES! This session took a long time to complete. Of course, getting the Protection Pants on was the usual farce. Do they make anything similar to the ones on the right here? It’s suitable that I should put him on the right. Because he’s the most Tory-like Labour Prime Minister ever! Hahaha!

As I noticed the Prison alarm was flashing last night, I didn’t expect to see it again this morning. I got Kodak Tim x2 and took this very poor close as I could get to it to take a snap of the Alarm Flashing (Escaped Prisoner). But it had stopped by the time I’d prattled about to get the shot. Just my luck not to have taken it earlier. Tsk!
Carer Ejaz arrived. Bless him.
I told them of whatever they were last night, which left me in a time-lapse
, confused and nervous.
The lad listened. He then sorted out my NHS breakfast.
Then, Ejaz barrier-creamed where I could not reach, mainly my feet, ankles, and back. Next, he put my diabetic socks on my feet for me.
Then he did a quick hoovering around for me. Bless him.

I got tucked into creating today’s Anti-Starmer Ode.
I was about half an hour into it, and the intercom chimed out. It was Matron. She measured me up for the wheelchair setting up. Checked my BP returns, and I waffled on about last night’s time-warping and total confusion. She reminded me to make sure I got an appointment with the Doctor. I explained that only when the Carer is on a Wednesday and Joe is prepared to go with me. Joe will remember and explain things better than I could on my own.
I think other things were discussed. Yes, Matron Jackie will ask the Doctor if I can have an oxygen level monitor. I have no idea what that actually means. I’ll look it up on Mr. Google.

Back to the Ode writing.

A series of mini-seizures came over the next few hours. Kyboshed my creativity and concentration.

Carre Joe arrived. He thinks I may have been falling asleep, which is a possibility. However, I was getting many feelings of dizziness, and my eyes seemed foggy for a few minutes, which I usually put down to my coming out of a seizure. Who knows? Not me!

Carer Ejaz made the next call. Socks taken off. Medications were issued. We had a little natter, and he was in a rush but asked if he could take my photo with my sunglasses on. Well, ever the budding model, I agreed. A handsome-looking brute! Hahaha!

I showed my prepared-earlier nosh in the microwave pot. Ejaz took a photo of that as well! He shot off after that.

I got the Ode finished and into the blog.

I went to the kitchen to ensure I’d not left anything unsafe. I put the potatoes in the dish and put them into the microwave oven.

Boy, what a view I took in these snaps of the quickly disappearing Sun. Bootiful!

Amazing Night Glow!
Then, a closer shot.
I think the eyes of the Sun were
from some trees on the horizon.
GREAT!

It’s late now, and the spuds are in the oven. I’m giving up on the blog, but the meal tempts me!
The Morrisons bread rolls were tasteless and tough.
Everything else was gorgeous!

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Here’s a four-leaf clover
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Inchy’s Alphabet Ode

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Forgive the references to Starmer.
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ALPHABETICAL A
There was a time that I was awesomer,
Although in some traits, I was awlfuller,
Friday’s dances, the girls at the Astoria…
To them, I was an acroparesthesia,
That was before I got apraxia.

Famous for my ability to talk bilgewater,
A bumbling-babbling, foolish blooter,
Searching for something boshter,
But always something of a boondoggler,
Then came a new ailment, bradykinesia!

I had a mini-todger, questionable cisgender,
I’ve still got it attached to a catheter…
Bald, so no worries over my coiffure,
Accepted as a bypasser or circumventor.
Never a winner, a 3rd place I’d chanticleer!

I’ve become an expert, frequent dégringoler,
Never was a fraud, cheat or deceiver,
Now, I suffer from dementia & dysphoria,
Unlike Starmer, I’m no denunciator,
The wrong word to describe me? Debbonaire!

Coffin-waiting, yet things can still enrapture,
A natter, laugh with a friendly talker…
CBD, magic mushrooms with elderflower,
Of course, I no longer use the chest expander,
Finances dwindling; I must curb expenditure!

I’ve led my life candidly, honestly, foursquare,
Getting annoyed at things that are not fair,
Like Starmer, PM, who lied to win, fibber!
Who loves a backhander, the freeloader,
Guaranteed to cheat, lie & work a flanker!

I’ve never been a dynamo, hero or go-getter,
I got cataracts then and still have glaucoma,
My failing brain & body is getting me grumpier,
I’ve avoided being a grammaticaster…
Now I’ve become a graphomania!

I’m an expert on my haemodynamometer,
But the stomach & body is getting heavier,
Mentally, I anticipate getting habromania,
There’s not much in my brain for it to hinder…
Only dementia, my brain’s house-sitter!

We’ve Starmer, every day getting iffier,
Putin, who’s several countries inferior,
Hamas, Israel, peace inviting…
Amhara, Yemen, with Houthi insurgency,
Ethiopia, Myanma, Paraguay… insanity!

No wonder the world is getting jitterier,
Proletariats just want life to be joyfuller,
Leaders going for the citizens’ jugular,
Janitor, junior, juror, or justificator?
We have Starmer, the lying junketeer!

I find myself becoming more klutzier,
And unfortunately, more knaggier,
And maybe a snip more kludgier,
My ageing body, positively knurlier,
If only Starmer would act kindlier!

Can Starmer’s reign get any lousier?,
Can I get any more loonier?
If things go right, will I live any longer?
Do I want to? Can I get livelier?
Can I rid myself of this lacklustre?

Will Keir get even more of a miser?
£160,976 a year for Nottingham’s Mayor,
She is Councillor Carole McCulloch,
Why does the East Midlands have a Mayor?
Clare Ward, £93,000 a year, did I mishear?
A deputy Mayor on £46,500, Holy Mother!,

The end of the World is drawing near…
Maybe not caused by anything nuclear,
Possibly by a Green Peace neglecter,
Oligarchs, wars, or my Auntie Nora?
God, Allah or Jesus from Nigeria?

The end of the World is now less obscure!
Humankind will be the orchestrator,
A World leader on an overnighter…
To prove they are more affluent occulter?
The most efficient proletariat ostraciser?

I now get more confused with my photocopier,
Camera, computer, & getting to Jupiter,
Anything mechanical, & phantasmagoria,
Also, of course, my own psychasthenia,
Not to mention my bladder’s parasitemia!

My right testicle went all quadrangular,
Had I a disease, a bug, a queller?
This concerned my partner & querida,
She said I’ve seen things queerer!
She’s such a quick quipster!

Life may yet get rosier,
Contentment can reappear,
The logicality of this may not register…
Old Father-Time may be the reawaker?
I once tried to be a ropedancer!

My happiest job? A gas streetlight snuffer,
There was not much joy to share…
My contentment did scatter,
I tried to become a sketch-writer,
But had a life of being an own-goal scorer!

Keir is an addicted taxation tchotchke,
Pensioners Farmers, has he got theophobia?
He’s given the trichotillomania,
Although an excellent thimblerigger…
I’d love to be his gravedigger tomorrow!

I feel like a foreigner an uitlander,
I’d like to be a uranographer,
Last week, I had urinemia,
Sorry, we said adieu,
To the EU,

Starmer? I’d willingly do his vivisepulture!
He’s an untrustworthy liar & morals-violater,
To Labour promises he’s a vilifier,
They may be lies, but he’s a good verbalist,
Out only for selfprofit, a viveurist!

I was once fun, a wassailer,
Not like Starmer, the waghalter,
The profitmonger, liar, wiseacre,
He should go to hell or heaven, whichever…
My hatred for him will never wither!

Years ago, I’d kowtower, I was a yeasayer,
But now well aged, I’m not so yellow,
I admit to being a peace-loving yawper,
Unashamed of loving a good yatter,

Proud to be compassionate, a zoolater,
My ability to spot a zeitgeber,
I love clothes blue, purple and zaffre,

I love food, especially zakuska,
I’d love to shoot Keir with a police zapper!

It’s rubbish, I know, but a bit of fun?
Cheers, Each!
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Croaking Inchy: Wednesday 25th December 2024

Not Starmer, naturally!

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I’m not having any Christmas fare,
I’ll treat the Carers & Nurses, to be fair,
Mentally failing, but I still want to be a blogger
It now takes so much longer, it’s a bugger,
I feel I’m no longer a belonger…
I was happier when I was boozier,
I’ve grown burlier, burblier, & less brainier…
Living life like a boondoggler,
A fungal lesion & catheter in my todger,
Dementia is my brain’s orchestrater,
Mild now, worse as I get older…
Beyond eighty, one can become an obiter,
I don’t look, can’t read ‘em, Gladys Glaucoma,
Never wanted excess money or grandeur,
Others notice as you get gimpier,
You may suffer from graphomania,
Ending up a grammaticaster,
I’ll explain why, at the gates to St. Peter,
Ageing: one becomes thinner or paunchier,
No longer a philanderer, you begin to palter,
Concentration and memory will falter,
You become an easy target for any finagler…
Mugger, killer, blackmailer or freebooter,
My turn to become a contradicter…
It’s hard to explain Cacodemonomania,
When it comes to life’s final closure…
Things will be revealed by your claviger…
Be it a God, Planet, Money, whatever,
Inspect your lifestyle, traits whensoever,
To return to earth, you must be a groveller,
And bare-face liar, like Starmer!
And he’s a bound for Hell, Herr Charmer!
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Tim’s Cat’s Greenies Stand-off. I love this one!

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The result was I gave myself a bloody nose by losing my balance as I bent down to open the Catheter Valve yesterday.  Then, while wiping the flow from my nasal holes, I started my cracked lips bleeding. I rather hope that they do not start again today! (They did!)

I woke up very late, enjoying sleep and having a good dream. Hehe! I moved as Richard entered the room, and maybe a few of my ailments did not kick-off. Until I tried to move my bulk about in the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner. I’ve not felt so bad when waking up for years!

My lips cracked and bled as I tried to speak. Speaking was not easy at first; I was more mumbling, I think. 
Back-Pain-Brenda, Electric-Shocking-Sherida, Confusion Konrad, everything seemed blurred (Glaucoma Gladys?), and, for several minutes, I felt like I was in a permanent-seizure mode. Richard was getting a smidge annoyed with me, I think. Because he was talking to me, but I was not receptive and unable to. I all but went over when I finally got the nerve to stand up and take off the nocturnal pouch. I was keeping Richard from getting home with my faffing about, and I was aware of this. I emptied, disinfected and wrapped up the pouch, and by the time I got back in the room with Richard, I was a different person. As if by magic, I’d regained some perception. Richard issued the prescription medications, and my being more with it, we chatted a minute or two. 

As soon as Richard departed, I got the kettle on. Taking this photo from the kitchen window of morning view. Feeling more myself all the time.
I’d left the blood towels out last night, so I wrapped them up and put them in the yellow disposable hygiene bag after disinfecting it first. To my genuine amazement, after drinking the small mug of tea and getting the computer on, the day bag filled almost to the maximum. In fact, it was the backflow discomfort that made me aware of its need to be emptied again. Not only that but in the jug was nearly 800ml of waste water! I think this happened yesterday as well. It continued to fill up all day, but not as much as this one. In the middle of this emptying, no spillages!

Launched into activity. He’s not a frequent visitor, but he hung around on and off all day, then into the night. I feared, as does happen, that Ted often encourages to join in with him. But not this time. She assisted him while I was in bed later to ensure another nasty disrupted sleep for me.

I didn’t mention this but decided, as it had happened, I would. I had to scoot off to the wet room to use the Porcelain Throne when Richard was here. I was almost casually taking off my dressing gown, and the motion began of its own accord! SHAME AGAIN!
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It was a damned Trotsky Terence affair as well! I kept Richard longer and felt guilty, but the mess I’d splattered over the mats, floors and my legs had to be sorted out there and then.👎🏻

I collated the waste bags into one and placed it near the front door.  I opened the door cause I thought I heard a noise outside. But no one was there, which is my flat’s usual state. I closed the door… a simple enough everyday activity… Ha! 
I’d hit the catheter day bag, a decent wallop with the edge of the door. I laughed it off and returned to the main junk room to get the computer back on and update the blog. I would think it was about eight to ten minutes later that I realised that urine from the pouch was trickling down my leg! Once more, the sock, leg, foot and slipper had been self-unrinated on with great venom! The one saving grace was that I noticed it sooner this time and saved the carpet cleaning from needing to be done.

Such shame, disgrace, ignominy, humiliation, and indignity!
The Carers are aware of these things, and the Nurses are. But what can I do? It’s going to happen again, undoubtedly. This very fact alone is enough to get me into a depression. Then the seizures are getting worse, unquestionably. Carer Richard found this morning that I’d left the taps running again last night.
I’m sorry I mentioned it now.

When I zoomed in to take this picture from the kitchenette window, I got a sense that something was wrong or not right. Different somehow compared with yesterday’s viewing. I spent a ridiculous amount of time and kept returning to look with the naked eye. Was it just that the sun had sneaked through, lighting up the scene? I’d enough to worry about as it was, but this bugged me. I gave up and got on the computer. 

Carer Suen arrived. We laughed, and I gave her a choice of bottles to select from for Christmas. Painkillers were given, and my diabetic socks were put on.

I went to make a brew of Glengettie and took this snap of the sky on offer. Then, it dawned on me what the difference was in the previous photo.
It was all the cars parked on the pavements on Devonshire Avenue to the left in this repeated picture. Ah, yes, all those families at home enjoying Christmastime! 
Jealous? Me? Don’t be so ridiculous! Ahem!

I read on the web the list of meals that the prisoners were having in Nottingham jail over Christmas and the New Year.
Jealous? Me? Don’t be so ridiculous! Ahem!
I’d better get my Christmas meal started.
Not as good as the criminals’ meal,
But I’m not Jealous… oh, no!

Imitation fish sticks, potato chunks, sliced bread with a bit of Marmite. Followed by a pot of jelly with three small pieces of satsuma in it. Very nice! This year, for Christmas lunch, inmates at His Majesties Prison New Hall will get to choose from Moroccan vegan roast, Salmon & dill fishcake, Roast turkey with pigs in blankets, and sage and onion stuffing with complete trimmings. Christmas pudding  (vegan option), ice cream, Swiss Roll or banana & custard. For free, of course.
It makes me feel guilty about having my massive feast.
Jealous? Me? Don’t be so ridiculous! Ahem!

Carer Victor did the last call.

I got into bed and drifted off into a nagging, ever-waking sleep. I gave up and got up at 05:30 hrs.
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Sayonara

Inchy: Friday & Saturday 23-4th November 2024

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The memories recalled, but only just,
I think it may have been 1972, in August…
I met and was mauled by an anaesthesiologist,
Stabbed by an acupuncturist.
This year, I was robbed by an oligarchist,
Who goes by the name of Starmer!
Known as the proletariat’s financial amputator,
His first job as PM put pensioners asunder,
Raised taxes for every farmer,
Who accepted far too many a backhander…
He is still the Labour leader,
Money from anywhere he can acquire,
To his many wrongs, he’s not a conceder,
Because he is such an arrogant bleeder…
A perfect match to be a Tory Prime Minister,
He’s although blunt, he’s a clever circumventor…
Lies directly, by omission, a fibbing blatherer,
I bet he’s never been a TV renter,
Cause self-wealth is at his centre…
Working persons new tax inventor,
Bet he gets a free haircut from his barber!
His taxes put an end to improving agriculture,
He’s just like a greedy vulture!
His ruthlessness gives me acroparesthesia,
It’s like he got into power with tabula nasa,
Apart from filling his bank account whenever,
To morals & sympathy, he is a denyer,
I wonder if his stockings are 15 denier?
I doubt his calculations, cogitation, & dedication…
I wonder at times if he is just an apparition…
Sent by Putin, to do our economy in?
Or maybe a Right-Wing Martian?
He’s certainly caused political confusion,
Are, to Keir, old labour values an illusion?
Voters want action with anti-depression,
Not an HMG leader like an automaton!
It could all end with a revolution!
Maybe it can be stopped by a coalition,
But he doesn’t need my permission…
But he can have my commiseration,
HMG UK is leading to deterioration,
Sooner the better, for the voting disillusioned
That Starmer is toppled & decommissioned!
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Ah, a bit better colour!

Terrible photo!

Waste bags condensed.

Evening mug of Glengettie tea.

Blue evening views

Four big cob sarnies. But they were too big for me to manage. Waste not, want not; I bagged them, put them in the fridge, and ate them on Saturday. They were pork loin with robust cheddar cheese, no-butter butter, sliced tomatoes, and chestnuts. No finger cuts were sustained. 

Got more photos saved to go on tonight!
Smug-Mode-Adopted!

Note the deliberate spelling mistake? Ahem!

Gawd, I hate Starmer!
I don’t think I’m on my own.

A large rise in cases percentage-wise!

I did a bit of research later for the odd below above!

All was normal here.

Slightly darker this morning.

My morning shots are getting atrocious!

Yesterday, I, Sherlock Holmesianly, searched for the signs of which houses are growing Cannabis in their lofts.
Today, it became apparent. Hehehe!

I’m unsure how I did it, but I got the battery-powered can opener to work!

Snowgoinger! Haha!

No TV. No landline phone. No Panic Alarm Working.
NO INTERNET! For 5+ hours.
Still, as long as the owners of Virgin, Liberty-Global, keep paying their CEO a phenomenal salary. Indeed, they will remain the supreme, cunning, lying Oligarchs they are. Trying to cancel their service, with their clause making us pay £100s to do so, requires someone with the following skills and can afford a barrister, a mathematician, & Einsteinian genius.
If one does escape their financial and incapable service, one may try EE, 3, Vodafone, BT, UPC Broadband, 02, ITV plc, or  Sirius—all of which Liberty-Global either owns or has investments in! We can’t win!.
But Liberty-Global Always Do! (Spit!)

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TTFNski

Egressing Inchy: Friday 1st November 2024

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I think there must be someone high up there,
Who decided who would or would not have hair,
A sort of overlord, Tsar or Universal Emporer,
Who decided what would be unfair or fair…
Created humankind, including Pol Pot & 
Hitler,
Mugabe, Stalin, Putin, so many experts in tyranny,
Giving his creations free will was undoubtedly silly.
National leaders full of thimbleriggery,
Thus, we have wars, dictators and seigniory,
Nations ruled discretely by the oligarchy,
Dominated in the name of greed, sinfully,
I see the end of Earthlings… undoubtedly, 
Did he/she mean to create humankind’s ubiquity?
Was he/she mistaken in giving us free will? Maybe!
Why bother at all? Was it experimentally?
A challenge from the boss of the next galaxy?
Was Earth ever meant to be cruelly umpty?
Should it have been mankind-free?
If accurate, Adam & Eve are the ones guilty!
I was going to muse over Starmer, you see…
But I’ve got to go for another urinoscopy,
Not that I’ll ever again manually pee!
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So far behind. Going to be a cut-short version.

Morning views.

Ablutions carried out. 3 tiny cuts shaving. Little Inchie fungal lesion bleeding. Shaking Shoulder Shirley throughout the session. Porcelain Throne painful, bloody and yet messy as well? Beats me!

08:45: The caregiver arrived. He had been delayed somewhere and was in a rush to catch up. I forgot to ask him to put on the diabetic socks for me. I’m blooming cold! Hehe!

Computer on. Update from Windows, update from WordPress and update from CorelDraw.

The browser froze again.

I still hadn’t got the browser available. Carer Joanne did the midday call. (I gave her a gentle hug and a kiss) Joanne put on the new socks for me—bless her. THe hospital kept her in on her visit. The test showed various levels tested for to be too high or low. (Catheter-needing problems, so painful). Gladly, she is out again, obviously. Super news! XXX

I’m assuming here cause the timings etc., could well be all too cocked up, as I spent so long getting the computer to restart and work, I did not make any notes on the reminder pad.

Took these close-ups of the local residences.

The Browser played up again, and an update took a long time. So, I took some more Kodak photos.

The DVT Nurse Hristina rang. I think she said that she would be calling on Monday around 08:00hrs. The reason for my uncertainty is that a mammoth seizure, the longest I’ve ever had, came over me after I put the phone down.
When things clicked back in with me, I’d been working on the computer and making a hash of it. It took me hours to make things right. Then when I went on CorelDraw, I found I’d done the same there. I’d also saved some photos, not many, but they were saved all over the place, and again, a lot of time was lost searching for them to use, as the computer had stopped allowing me to save again. That needed me to use the Ccleaner; by the time I got the long-winded procedure over with, I’d forgotten where I was before!
Depressions Dawned!

These seizures are a fantastic thing to understand. They can come on for seconds without me even realising, or like this one did, for hours. I merrily press on, no idea what I’m doing or have done. A sort of… erm, I’m not sure how to describe it.
If the telephone rings, the door chimes, or anyone comes in the room, I’m instantly back in the running, aware, almost alert. But this is often reversed when I find the things I’d been doing that I’d forgotten about. One such instance today was when Chris left after the evening call. I found a paper dish with crumbs in it, and it was warm on the side of the sink. I must have heated it up in the microwave and eaten it; no food was in the bin. This morning, I realised the cornish pastie was not in the fridge… it must have been in my tummy? Hahaha!

This may be why I often go to the fridge to get something and find it is not there? Worralife!
I assume it could be linked to or spurred on by FND. Neuropathic Myoclonus: (sudden, brief involuntary twitching or jerking of a muscle or group of muscles. The twitching cannot be stopped or controlled by the person experiencing it.

All these are linked to Peripheral Neuropathy, which itself is caused by one’s Neurotransmitter’s dying. This causes problems for the brain to read the messages being sent to it, and often, the brain gets confused and responds with the wrong responses.

It’s challenging to master cooking in a microwave.

TTFNski, Each.

Creaky Inchy: Thursday 17th October 2024

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Another crap, waking up all the time all night. I shot awake so often that I believed it was late and forced myself out of bed, emptied the nocturnal catheter bag, and dragged myself miserably to the wet room. A quick clean-up: Cartilage tormentedly got the fresh PPs on and returned to the bed to tidy it up. All the time, I try not to think of the computer hassles and problems. It’s getting to me now! Then I had to go back to the wet room. Cor, what a messy job that was!

Here, depression & frustrations tested my already limited sanity.

I got the computer on, and of course, it was not letting me put photos or graphics on again. I joke not. Carer Chris arrived. I was too responsive. With my fingers crossed, I was using Norton and Ccleaner to make space on the computer. After they were done, I should have closed everything down and rebooted for the changes to take effect. I was trying to concentrate on what I’d done and what needed doing. Carer Chris took the laundry down for me on his way out, and I returned to the in-progress cock-up I was unknowingly in the middle of. I could not recall the things I’d done and not done. So, I had to close everything down, give it a minute, and then restart the whole kit & caboodle. Naturally, it would still not let me save any graphics or photographs to file or on WordPress!
I had to start the minimising and cleaning the memory all over again. It’s not as if I knew what I was doing; I winged it and prayed, knowing it would do the same thing again as I used more memory. Thunderclap?Turds!
To my amazement, it allowed me to get work on the blog!
As if I didn’t know this would happen, I tried to rush the job while the memory was available. I made so many errors I think I ended up using more memory!
Then I noticed the time on the clock was 09:00hrs! It had taken me hours to get things going! Grumble-Grunts!

I got these taken earlier shots of the few from the kitchen.

Then, as I was about to put the balcony shot of the end car park on, showing a resident cleaning his car, the card reader stopped working on me!
It took me about half an hour to get it to work. It was all a matter of blind faith, hope, and keeping my fingers crossed, jobbie.
All I did was push the connections in firmly. Nope! I took the SD card out and made sure the tab was in the read position. Nope! I disconnected the reader again and cleaned where I could get at it; nope! I shook it a bit. I was in a semi-panic-desperation mode then!
I took a break to think things through and see if I could figure out if I had done something wrong. I went into the kitchen and took some more sky shots, then back to the computer and inserted the SD card once more into the reader. And it loaded straight away? Phew!
Then, I had time to appreciate the incredible cloud formations I snapped.

I received a letter from the bank. I didn’t open it; I was ashamedly too scared to.
The photo refusing started again!
I keep thinking I can’t mentally get any lower than I am, any more depressed. But, this has proven to be untrue.

Carer Sham obliged with the midday call. I must have gotten up this morning around 05:00 hrs. Then I remembered taking a photo of the ancient clock using the other camera. I got the SD card, and it went through. The clock depicted 04:30 hrs when I pressed the day and date buttons. I realised I struggled with the computer’s memory for around five hours or more! Taking an hour of for the ablutionings and pant changes. Huh!

I keep hearing the gentleman in the flat above. He is an image of me, I think. Today, he is regularly dropping what sounds like his walking stick. I’m not bothered about this; after all, I keep doing it myself to the poor Mary in the flat below.

I’m depressed and am going to get a meal of some sort sorted. I got the oven, warming up and a tin of peas in the saucepan, then took some bread out of the freezer.
Now, I will at last get onto the WordPress reader.
Some cracking poetry and photographs on today!

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TTFNski!

Aquaphobic Inchy: Saturday 21st September 2024

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MY WAKENING OVERVIEW: Carer Chris woke me up. I was in a terrible condition. Confused, & Dizzy. Initially, I did not have the foggiest idea where I was… it took a while to glean who I was. I genuinely thought I’d kicked the bucket. Then I found I could not get up! I asked Chris to leave me where I was. I wanted to sleep, but I sat there for five more hours. Just think about things and my various sad conditions. Sweet Morpheus ignoring me.

Reality meant nothing for this period. 

I was suddenly feeling wide awake and brave enough to stand up – but Cather Chloe brought me back to semi-certitude as she gave way, and I clumped down on the left knee. Even more time was lost in getting back up. Thankfully, the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, and disease-fermenting second-hand, eyesorely horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, catheter tube yanking, recliner was feet away and utilised it to get me back up on my feet, albeit somewhat painfully and shakily. I thought about pressing the wristlet alarm. Something wasn’t right about how I felt. But what could I tell them? I didn’t press for help. I really think now I ought to have. The sudden semi-recovery in my awareness kept disappearing and returning for the rest of the day. 
We were having a heyday with me. These persisted from when I got up to when I settled in bed 18 hours later. ; As for him, he didn’t give me a break at all; he’d moved in permanently. 
I added a few notes to the other things concerning me for whenever I can get to see the Doctor.
However, the severity of these ailments did lessen as the day went on – well, apart from.
Sunday morning now, not a lot of details remain. But the waking-up routine has stayed with me. Recollections will be limited due to a lack of time during the day after getting up late. I’m in a state, mate.
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Too dark!

Not sure when this was taken. Not many photos were taken this morning.

Presumably, he took these before and after the ablutions. The old man got up so late that he had to do them late, around 17:00 hrs. But why did he? 

Evening snap.

Two ready-made meals in one large bowl!
A beef in rich stour gravy (cook in the pouch) and a Beef Casserole. Last of the Danish bread and a Lemon flavoured yoghourt to follow.

When I got into bed, I hoped for the best. I feared another night or morning like the last ones, with me out of it and incapable of standing up. Fingers crossed!

Then, the lightning started. I moved from the bed to the 
£300 second-hand shop purchased, c1966, welt-causing, uncomfortable, not-working, itch-inspirational, crumb-containing recliner, so I could see the distant lightning that covered the whole horizon, beautiful! 
Then, I decided (another stupid decision) to get the camera to try and catch a shot of the lighting.
Of course, I couldn’t; the lightning was gone when I hit the take-button, it had gone.

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TTFNski, each.
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Implicated Inchy: Tuesday 7th May 2024 – More Mayhem

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05:10hrs: I woke up in the 966, £300 Oxfam charity shop bought, second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy & dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping, recliner.
And released the catheter nocturnal bag from the day bag pouch. Again, a decent colour of urine had been passed overnight.
As the signs from the innards indicated a change in mode to a Trotsky Terence one, I decided to make my way to the wet room without delay. A good job I did, too. The motion started as I lowered my bottom onto the plastic Porcelain Throne cover!
The spray was almost spitting-like, out all over the WC furniture and my bum and bottom. Took me ages to get it all cleaned up.
My plump, short legs were holding up the catheter bag pouch well today. Then, the bag suddenly split open down one side. Being a cunning, if pathetic DIYer, I repaired it with some of the Elastoplast and Elephant tape I had to hand and refitted it.
I topped up the Nurse’s and Carer’s nibble boxes and went on the computer for a while. I can’t say precisely how long the computing went on as another darned Mind-Blank took me over. It might have been Carer Marie; she kept coming into my mind, and her suspicious smile was in there somewhere. I found this photo in the morning of where I’d left the diabetic socks in view to remind me to ask for them to be put on. They were on my legs alright, now. Back with it, I decided to make up some bottles of spring water, adding a little cordial to a few bottles. Off to the kitchenette, I poddled!
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After making the drinks, I decided that, as I had the funnels out, I’d make some spray with an antiseptic disinfectant that I used to sprinkle in the catheter urine jug and waste bins. I made the mix and poured it safely and freely into the sprayers.
One: As I turned away to take the filled bottles, I knocked the topless disinfectant bottle off the draining board. I made a barb for it and sprayed the liquid out of the spout. It landed on my dressing gown, which got soaked. Then I dropped the bottle on the floor, which swizzled around, distributing the rest of its contents over the kitchen floor. I did not burst into tears! I just cursed vigorously. But I did consider crying an option! I decided to take some shots from the window, as not many had been taken with all the seizures. I genuinely wish that I hadn’t bothered now.

TWO: Now, the photos themselves came out pretty decently. In fact, I was pleased with the results.
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As I closed the window yet again, my sleeve caught the kitchen knife box, knocking it to the floor. A degree of spitting was used in conjunction with foul language, self-insulating, and loathing outbursts that lasted for a good while. What the hell Mary in the flat below must think of me?
Well, it doesn’t take much imagination. Sorry, Mary! ♥

I set about cleaning the kitchenette floor again.
I used the Speed Mop this time to save time and bending down to wring out the big mop.
Things are looking better now in the kitchen.
But not with WordPress and or the computer I’m using.

I am having all sorts of failures. I’ll whip on what I’ve got and try to post it. Sorry about this. Google has given up on me. I’m Trying Firefox now.


Fingers crossed!

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TTFN

Ibuprofen Inchy: Sunday 28th April 2024

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Or it might have been Carer Victor or Israel. Erm, if I remember correctly, I’ll reveal it all on Monday.
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It was not an extraordinary sort of day, with a few intermittent happenings that were out of the ordinary. I can’t recall having a single , no, honestly! A carer failed to arrive for the midday checks, which was not all that unexpected; last Monday, a morning medication Carer failed to arrive. The ailments and injuries were, as usual, ever-present.
My , or of course it may have been  , added up to three. This seems to be the agreed count these last few days, with my brain taking over masters in conjunction.
For some unknown reason, the burn on the right hand of the oven rack is taking a while to stop being painful. Constipation Conrad is back in charge of the evacuations. My concentration is no worse than yesterday. Not that that’s saying much. I think Concentration Konrad is now a permanent fixture. He joins the other ailments as a part of the Mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind, which is losing its marbles?

It’s a busy week coming up, too. On Tuesday, the J Sainsbury order arrives – a big one, too! On Wednesday, the Pegasus Police form must be filled in and posted back – without any help from Caregiver Kara, who is on holiday for a fortnight. The results could be catastrophic if I get confused and fill it in wrongly, but a man of calibre should be able to cope. When I worked at Tesco, I had six tills to cash up, making sure the money was right, coupons were given and checked, and even the issue of Green Shield stamps had to be checked every day of the week.  
Of course, that was in 1966, a few years ago now. My brain had most of its functions working. All were pre my getting shot (twice), cancer, heart operation, duodenal ulcer operation, Cataract Katie, Glaucoma Gladys, Saccades Sandra, Dementia Doreen, falling in a lake, having the Stroke, getting Peripheral Neuropathy, Cancer of the bladder – Catheter Bag fitted… currently the most painful of the ailments! FND, Diabetes Insipidus, Diabetic Polyneuropathy – leading to Diabetes 2. Going deaf, a failed Cataract operation – currently awaiting a second one, a Glaucoma operation and having a permanent catheter fitted, Cartilage Chloe (left knee), Cartilage Carole (right knee), Onychovryptosis (Ingrowing toenails), None-Epileptic Seizure Disorder Dina, Cognitive Impairment Iris, Vasculitis Vanessa, Dental caries, which in turn assist my given ability for . I wear alert wristbands; if I wore one for each ailment, I’d run out of wrist and arm-room. Hahaha! I’m still searching for an ‘Allergic to Clopidogrel’ wristband. Not that I have room to wear it, Hehe!
They give Clopidogrel to everyone taken in after a stroke. But we didn’t know until it was too late that I was allergic to it. Thus, then I got Peripheral Neuropathy.
But it’s been fun and exciting.  
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I think I saw a speck of blood in the bag this morning when I photo’d it. Likely, it’s just a reflection from the flash, I assumed?
Much drizzle is out there from the balcony’s right window. The usual excellent parking is available from our senior citizens on the yellow chevrons, indicating, do not park here. I’m not jealous that the drivers can still afford to own one. Or that my licence had to be surrendered due to the ailments making me unsafe on the roads. Har, Har! The drugs would still have me nodding off; that’ll most likely be the s. Coming home from work one day from Rempstone, I stopped at some traffic lights in Clifton and dosed off for two hours. I woke up in an ambulance going to the hospital. I felt fine; I just have no memory of what happened. Apparently, other drivers couldn’t wake me up and thought I’d snuffed it and called an ambulance and police.
I decided that at that time, I’d hand in my licence. I realised that I could have killed someone. What if I’d been driving at the time? The RAC returned the car to my garage. I thanked them and cancelled my membership. Within two days, I’d given my beloved vehicle away. At least it helped a mate who was out of work. I never saw him again? 
Boy, I’ve waffled on here! Sorry.
Off to the wet room.
A rare return of .
Almost caught me out! I was expecting a battle with .
After the slushy evacuation, the stomach remained gurgling. I cleaned things up and started shaving.

Partway through doling, I hastily plonked down on the seat again for a repeat performance. Well, not so much, but what exited was even more watery this time. With a tinge of orange in the colour that was not there on the first session on the throne? By the time I finished shaving, washed, and did the medicationings for the delicate areas in need, then got the place cleaned up again, I’d been there for over two hours! It was a more painful-to-pass scenario, but I’d gladly welcome him back.
Pants and slippers on again, I meandered out onto the balcony. The rain was still pouring down.
I took the first two of the snaps. They were not very good, taken through the window glass. 
I hobbled into the kitchenette to do the same through the kitchen glass. All three show how much it was raining, though. We had a fair bit of it yesterday.
 
There followed an almost rapid selection of I caught the hand in the window closing it, right on the burn scar, which naturally made me jump away… ; I knocked the towel roll and holder off of the window ledge. : The stalk broke off from the base. : Bending down to retrieve those as mentioned earlier, I hit my forehead on the edge of the radiator. Turned and dropped the walking stick, which hit the fridge and fell right on my left foot’s ingrowing toenail! Did I swear? Yes! And I did again when I realised I’d sprayed the kitchen cleaner all over the dressing gown when cleaning things up. Humph!

I got out the new vacuum cleaner and hoovered up the mess I’d made when walking to the wet room in the hallway.
I took a snap of the new cleaner to show you the fancy headlights on the machine. Hehehe! The vacuum arrived in eleven pieces in a square box, with miniature writing on the instruction booklet. Luckily for me, Carer Chris came and assembled it within three minutes. Of course, I could have handled doing it quickly; I just wanted the lad Chris to think he’d done something worthwhile.
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The new Catheter Pouch Bag keeps slipping down the leg.
The new Tena Protection Pants keep slipping down.
I also seem to have misplaced my hearing aids. I’ve checked the wet room, kitchen, rubbish tip room, and front room without any success.
To the rescue again. He found the hearing aids within minutes. He’s a very good ferriter. While he was searching, he spotted some biscuits, and he had to have a packet. Hehehe! They had dropped behind the rickety 1962 G-Plan cabinet, and he retrieved them for me. Saved again! 
The evening sky kept changing hue. Well, I thought it did, anyway. Of course, what my eyes see and you may not do…

Or should that be the other way around? You can tell I’m getting tired, can’t you? My thoughts at this moment, remind me of vegetable dumpling stew… mixed, unclear and lumpy.
I took this last, catching the edge of the window frame and the sun on its way home. There’s an elegance to these sunset shots. They’re vivid yet semi-opaque – a bit like the cameraman. Har-Har!


A simple nosh for a simpleton.
Salt & vinegared chips, vegetarian sausages, a soft brown baguette with pickle-flavoured ketchup.
Followed by a pot of mandarins in jelly.
My hunger was pleasantly sated.

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TTFN