Geroff out for the day, the Obergruppenfureress Warden said to me,
“Yer not see wot they’re doing, and you’ll be noise free”,
She took her hand from around me neck, and so I did agree,
So, on the fitting-morning, off out I did merrily flee,
Duodenal Donald hurting, Arthur Itis painful on me knee,
Also a shame it was freezing and so icy!
I set off on my hobble, with determination,
A long day out ahead, luckily I had constipation,
Walked through Sherwood, and then Carrington,
Which way to walk to the Arboretum,
I took the shortest route, this took no persuasion.
Through the Nottingham Rock Cemetary, I rested,
Thought that death should not be detested,
But life should not be unattested,
Knowledge should be shared and reinvested,
Those in the know, shouldn’t be so tight-fisted,
By gum, been a long walk, my feet are getting blistered!
Arrived at the pond, bird and duck food in my carrier,
But this did not make me feel any cheerier,
Not a duck or bird in sight,
The water had frozen-over, surrounded by dying wisteria,
l looked on the bright side, at least I haven’t got diphtheria!
A Pavement Cyclist, came from behind, far too close!
I shouted out a sarcastic verbal ‘Thank you boss’!
His reply was naughty word ridden and gross,
I answered with meaningless verbose,
Walked the other way, and bade him Adios!
I went to tower and the cannons on show,
Nibbled an apple and ate a marshmallow,
They both tasted horrible though,
It was a long way for this old one to walk, though!
Eventually, I got home, back to the flat,
To find the electricians, one was wearing a hat,
But it doesn’t matter about that,
Why did I mention it? Don’t know, I am a pratt,
They laughed at me limping, and we had a chat,
Most of which I have since forgat,
They showed me the controls, not how to use them, not that,
I wish they had, I wanted to be a copy-cat,
I asked for information,
One big bloke called me a miniature wombat,
But we soon came to a concordat,
What with me being a scaredy-cat,
I thanked them and gave each one a two-bar Kit-Kat!
The spare room Radiator
The Living Room Radiator
The Hallway Radiator
The Kitchen Radiator was of interest,
Tried opening the cupboard-door and drawer too,
I really did try my best, get to retrieve my packets of Tyhpoo,
The carving knife stuck at the draw-back, will have to do!
But let me tell you…
Damn it, the memory has gone again, I’m going Cuckoo!
Woke up, in the recliner where I nightly sprawl,
Nae bother from the Trotsky’s, Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna, at all,
Duodenal Donald, Dizzy Dennis were all good too, I recall,
I’d been dreaming of having holidays, first in Nepal,
Then I met a gal, and we made love in Montreal,
Then we both went off to Senegal,
Had to rush off for a Porcelain Session, it was a close-call,
No bleeding or dizzies did I befall,
Didn’t even stub my toe on the shower stall.
Should I today, go do a bungee jump, or play baseball?
Do a marathon, climb a mountain or play volleyball?
Whatever made me even think of this, I don’t know at all,
I’b be lucky to find the energy to make a phone-call!
___ __________________________ ___
The Morrison man is delivering this morning,
The dentist appointment needs confirming!
The hearing aid batteries need changing,
The filters and tubes need cleaning,
A letter came regarding the operation and grafting,
The Clinic will need telephoning,
The chair needs a repair to it’s cushioning,
The anxiolytic medication needs taking,
Now the mind is doing its own thing,
Off on tangeants, uncontrollabley wandering,
My logicality and senses are now waning,
Maniacally meandering, leaving me wondering,
Why, where, when and how, I’m still pondering,
Shame, there’s no snow, I could go tobogganing,
See? The mind is off again, outgunning…
Destroying my logicality by it’s picarooning,
It may improve, perhaps the madness is just sojourning?
I realised he’s back and felt quite sick,
Diarrhorea Dick attacked me so quick,
No use, medications, praying or the walking stick,
Codeine, hearing aids or an analgesic,
The rumbling Throne Sessions, messy, not thick,
The evacuated innards are certainly not, non-stick,
Had to wash so often, with bleach and carbolic.
What had caused this? The chicken drumstick?
Was it a problem that is colonic?
A bug, bad food or summat bacteriologic?
No idea what it is, but was it Deoxyribonucleic?
The flat now cannot be described as aromatic,
Rather, as putrid, gut-wrenching and chronic!
Took the Diah-Limit capsules very quick,
Their failure has proved rather catastrophic,
Nowt I try taking can do the trick,
So, I wrote this silly limerick!
Composed in the hopes of something or other, and in Support of the Outer Peruvian Three-legged Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society.
You remember: the tune from ‘The Sound of Music’?
Warfarin, duodenal Ulcer and cuts that need knitting,
Omeprazole and Morphine and new dental fittings,
Enoxaparin injections and boy they don’t half sting,
These are a few of my favourite things.
Metal ticker valve, cataracts, hearing aids, glasses,
Simvastatin, Fixodent, false teeth in glasses,
Overdue rent and those romantic flings,
These are a few of my favourite things.
When the pipes leak,
When the bones creak,
I simply remember my favourite things,
And then I don’t feel so bad.
Hot tea and crumpets, and corn pads for bunions,
No spicy meals or food cooked with onions,
Social workers, the hot meals that they bring,
These are a few of my favourite things.
Back pains, confused brains and no fear of sinning,
Thin bones and fractures and hair beyond thinning,
More of the pleasures maturity brings-
When we remember our favourite things.
When the joints ache, when the hips break,
When the eyes grow dim,
I simply remember the great life I’ve had,
And then I don’t feel… so bad.
Macedonian: 20 четвртокот Април 2017 година
Woke at 0410hrs: Bits of a dream lingered for a while but departed my brain within seconds. These were replaced with the determination to get the washing done as soon as possible.
0420hrs: Out of the £300 second-hand recliner. No washing, medicationalisationing or kettle put on – I gathered the laundry bag, made sure the accoutrements were added to it and hobbled down to the laundry room. Still feeling bad in and about myself for the joke going wrong with the lovely hygiene gals being upset. Got the washer going and returned back up and got the computer going and started the diaries.
.0455hrs: Back down and moved the stuff from the washing machine to the dryer and got that started.Some notices had been moved on the board
Some notices had been moved on the board.
One about Repair Priorities. And the now classified list, with the new times, shown.
The other was just a reminder that repairs are now the Tenant’s Responsibility to report their own repairs.
I thought about the difficulty I had hearing the person on the other end of the line last time I did this and was prompted to remember that I have got to search for the hearing aid tubes and if I can find them, replace the broken one on the right-hand aid.
Up and did the Health Checks then started this blog off.
Looking good, even the weight is down a bit.
Down to collect the dried laundry – but oh dear… it was not dried fully at all! But the cycle back on and back up the lift.
Did some WordPressing then I returned back down to the laundry room, to find the clothing no drier than it was before?
Got it folded and cleaned the filter out.
Back up to the apartment and got both of the airers utilises as well as the airing cupboard. In an effort to get the things dry enough to wear later.
Made a brew and took the medications.
To the porcelain throne and only Haemorrhoid Harold was bleeding, The Senna’s had done their job.
Back on the computer and updated this diary.
Got an email about the Morrison delivery on its way. Delivery arrived.Got the Canadian
Got the Canadian Buckwood Maple Syrup in, I plan to use it in plain yoghourt, but I will ask some of the Canadian TFZers on Facebook if they have any suggestions for its use too.
Also, thought it wise to get some more of those horrendous safety knickers in stock.
Being as Little Inchy’s lesion has started bleeding again, better safe than sorry eh?
They sent large instead of extra large this time, I didn’t notice until I took the photograph.
I’ll use one today after the ablutions and see if they will fit, or if I will fit into them.
Embarrassing I know, but they can save an awful lot of cleaning up in the long run.
Got onto CorelDraw sorting again. Spent hours on it once more. The CorelPaint crashed on me at one time, but I think it might have been due to my getting the shakes just as I was selecting an option, and hit it twice?
Opened it up again and all worked.
Had to remember to keep moving the damp clothes around on the airers.
Eventually gave up on CorelDraw defaulting and finished off the diary and updated this one to here.
Did a poem to go with WordPress, I called it: The Nape of Existence. A bit of fun, even it was true. Haha!
Did this graphic to use as a header.
Link: The Nape of Existence
Posted it off.
Then I got around to catching up on Facebook. Hours and hours it took, but all in the name of depriving me of suffering from depression… Blimey, Did I say that?
Nipped in to have a wee-wee before setting off to the Tenants Meeting Social Hour, and, . The scar had opened badly on Little Inchy and the blood had flowed. Had a right mess to clean up and medicate! Took me that long the meeting was only ten minutes away from ending by the time I got there! Grumph! Hand time to pose with the others for a photo for the builders? Give the nibbles out and the raffle prizes to Obergruppenfureress Penny to use next week, and everyone was leaving.
I got myself back to the abode and checked Little Inchy and he was at it again. Tsk!
Made a cuppa, and saw that I had left the Strawberry flavoured vanilla filled suckers delivered earlier on the window ledge, instead of putting them in the freezer!
Another ! All eight were now liquid in bags that leaked!
I was not having a good day at all. I was already depressed with my humour cock-up, the laundry room farce and having things drying all over the place, virtually missed the Social Hour and the Virus scar bleeding again. Not good! I could not muster any enthusiasm or interest at all. Then I remembered I’ve got to do the Facebooking. But even that didn’t do much to cheer me up.
I moved the clothes around on the airers, getting some of the thicker ones out of the airing cupboard and putting the removed ones into it – but automatically as if I had resigned myself to everything going wrong, and had no idea how to stop them. Odd?
Made a mug of tea and got on Facebook.
Did some more CorelDraw 2017 updating.
Feeling morose, annoyed with me and thinking silly thoughts, although at the time they were perfectly logical thoughts.
A friend contacted me and suggested I tell the doctor everything. But this will not take away the stupid decisions and practical jokes gone wrong or self-loathing, will it? I appreciated so much his contacting me, but the shadow of hopelessness loomed. Never felt like this before.
I sat a while thinking about things, the negative thoughts mounted and soon the brain was in freefall – I had to stop myself getting into a rut of… well, I don’t know.
I’m going to the surgery on Monday for the INR blood test, and promised Lynton I’d book myself in, to see the Doctor Vindla. Musn’t let him or myself down after he’s taken the time, bother and shown such compassion for me. (Hope that’s the right word?).
Not been out, apart from on the site for days now.
Made a meal.
Threw away the hunters sausages after one bite, far too fatty.Didn’t eat the cheese.
Didn’t eat the cheese.
Thought I might start nibbling again later, but only had a bag of Marmite crisps, so depressed with things.
Foolish thoughts came and went, suddenly the balcony was tempting.
I might get this diary done, then stop doing them until something is sorted, I do not want to broadcast doom and gloom, I want to make people smile and laugh. Finding this hard myself limits the scope.
Got a shower shave and did the teeth, in sort of automatic mode?
More terrible thoughts permeated the brain as I settled down.
Hopefully, the inner torment will somehow ease.
I’ll start with just what is a Whoopsiedangleplop,
It’s when the accidents, mishaps and calamities don’t stop,
Inanimate things break, disappear & if breakable, these you’ll drop,
The surgeon takes poorly when doing your hernia op,
Your brain power is of 50cc in power, others have a turboprop,
Some go hang-gliding or skiing, you visit the bookshop,
For a self-treat some buy themselves a Jaguar or BMW soft-top,
A Whoopsiedangleplopper treats himself to an orange lollipop,
Other blokes may have a perm, but you’ve no hair on top,
Whoopsedangleplopper’s, too soft, you won’t even tread on a snowdrop,
Blokes work on their cars in the garage or workshop,
You polish your Pensioner’s bus pass as you wait at the bus stop,
Men give their partners Caviar, you make yours do with chips & a rollmop,
And Whoopsiedangleplopper’s, buy their clothes from the charity shop.
Common sense, confidence, social skills, Whoopsiedangleploppers? No ability!
Born, but unwelcomed into the world, a pity,
Whoopsiedangleplops followed him with great ubiquity,
He was surrounded my anger, hatred and mendacity,
But tried all his life to be kind, caring and witty,
Worked hard not to become a burden or a liability,
He soon learned to despise hatred, the selfish and nihility,
But to free himself of Whoopsiedangleplops he had no ability,
Dragged up in slums, he did not want nobility,
Thrown into the canal, that was no farcicality!
He yearned for a family and happiness in any quantity,
But he got just unintended iniquity,
Left school at fourteen, little education or capability,
Into a bed and breakfast dwelling, turned to alcohol, life was shitty.
Got a partner and lost her soon, then a new disability,
The ailments he accrued with great persistency,
Deafness, colour blindness, duodenal ulcer with rapidity,
New mechanical ticker valve, done my Dr Ivan Moskovsky,
Then his hernia, being shot, and Anne Gyna appeared,
As he anticipated more ailments came over the years,
Broke his leg, ankles and rheumatoid arthritis appears,
Then his reflux valve stuck to add to his fears.
Crushed his big toe, then he got colitis another disability,
Made redundant when turned 62, life was not very pretty,
Made redundant twice more, life now full of instability,
Eight years later, still full of gullibility,
Moves into the flat, feeling great inferiority,
Since which nothing has gone right much at all,
Not that life has ever been a ball…
I face each new day filled with trepidity.
Thinking, how today will show my stupidity,
I’m bound to once again display my ineffectivity,
I’d love to find and show some intrepidity.
In support of the Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society
Where once you enjoyed shaking it about on the dance floor,
You’ll grow arthritic, have angina and no cash left, so, therefore,
You’ll be incapable of jigging anything with the lassies anymore,
By definition far less and less will you manage to score,
For your bodily actions will become far too shrunken and sore,
Later you’ll become an excellent raconteur,
Telling others of your exploits, victories that once you saw,
Tell folks how you were once stung on the bum, by a Dumbledore.
From socialising, drinking and concerts you’ll have to withdraw,
Can’t pay you gas bill, get in trouble with the law for being poor,
With sadness, you’ll recall that in 1963, oh, the shows you saw,
Roy Orbison, Billy Fury, Adam Faith, even Sandie Shaw,
Stopped using your pipe; you can’t afford the Erinmore.
Your pension fund will decrease by at least fives-core,
Embarrassed, you’ll ask for help from the Salvation Army Corps.
Can’t afford to mend your shoes, windows or door,
You’ll not remember what your aftershave was used for!
Short of cash, you’ll have to sell your beloved vibrator,
To buy yourself instead, antiseptic creams and a respirator!
You’re getting up times will become much later,
Looking in the mirror, you’ll see your Pater,
See wrinkles and pot-marks you’ve not noticed, now feeling unsure,
Wake up throughout the night, for WC visits, like never before.
Your speech will be littered with many an error and metaphor,
To eat your meals, you’ll wear your teeth and a pinafore,
Your memory loss and confusion will become folklore,
Bending down to pick summat up, becomes a furore,
Getting utility bills, make you fret and sweat through every pore,
The kids of today, you’ll soon learn to deplore.
Ask why footballers get paid so much more?
Finding your health, mind, teeth and hair you cannot restore,
You get dressed shave shower and wonder what for?
Whence has hope desire and health have gone for sure,
Why, how do you keep up your spirit’s therefore?
Life becomes hard, embittered and a bit of a bore,
Time to browse the undertaker’s brochure?
Then you’ll meet a lovely Olive, ah, that’s the cure!
Forgive this little ditty; I know it’s not got class or erudition,
I know it’s a bit of an uneducated disquisition,
So this is the position of my exposition.
The fight to extract my mass from the chair each morning,
The £300 second-hand recliner, it dangerous take-warning,
It’s a bit of a gamble, will be dead or functioning,
Will I get out in time for my ablutionising?
Usually not, so follows medicationalising and sanitising!
Take the tablets, do the medical checks too,
Important this, when one’s decrepit and seventy-two,
BP, temperature, pulse, just a few you have to do,
Creams, lotions, pain gel and new aches for you,
Hospital, doctors, clinic and chiropodist appointment due?
Check what day it is, or you won’t have a clue!
There’ll be plenty of things for you to misconstrue,
Things to forget, not remember, it makes you feel blue,
Getting things wrong is easy like you’re on Autocue,
Leave the tap running, heater or lights, there’s more than a few!
From decision making, you will find you eschew,
The red Gas Bill demand will be overdue,
What day and time is your next health assessment interview?
Singing to yourself, ‘Jealousy’ and ‘A Boy named Sue’,
Knowing the words surprises you,
But you won’t remember, what’s needed next to do,
The name of your neighbour or grandnephew,
The number bus you need or when it is due,
Or, where you put the letter from the Inland Revenue.
Try to find your hearing aids, pen or glasses, but you cannot,
Get people’s names wrong and feel a right clot,
Forgetting where you were going, you’ll do that a lot,
Or getting there, no idea why and lose the plot,
Dropping things all the time like the teapot,
Bottles, coins, medicines and anything hot,
Arriving at the surgery, and wondering for what?
Repeatedly telling folks the same thing like a parrot,
Most of what you utter will be complete tommyrot.
Falling asleep anywhere or time without any fuss,
Often in a waiting room or on the bus,
Waking up at the depot, feeling ridiculous,
You’ll find your hands and fingers less dexterous,
Delicate parts of your body become fugacious,
Redundant, saggy and then none exitatious,
You’ll lose the urge to be flirtatious,
But gain the urge, to be grumpy and vexatious!