Here are some terrible crimes being committed, That will never be lessened or ameliorated, While issuing laughable, pathetic sentences… And obviously guilty scum, even get acquitted! Judges and Parole officers aren’t assassinated.
Prisons are losing many an inmate… Out on the run, not waiting for their release date… They’d be freed by the Parolees and only had to wait… Judges give them ten years… you’ll have to do two, mate… A policy of being kind, as they kill… I can’t explicate!
Part Two of Nottingham’s Animalistic Crime Snippets Plus, a rare bit of good news – I hope
I nearly got caught by these scamming swine!
At 03:40hrs the other morning, I was drinking wine…
The mobile phone tune flashed, did opine,
A text message tune. Had someone forgotten the timeline?
To me, this looked all genuine and fine,
With the NHS website on a lower line…
I got back to my alcohol-free wine,
No need to take any ranitidine!
But I fretted over it, oh, this worrying of mine… Dithering, vacillation and my mental decline… Carer Richard, fast becoming a mate of mine, Investigated, found the telephone number online, Do not use it! It was a Scammers mobile line! Richard’d saved me from another dwine!
Whoever took this photo is a braver person than me, Eight men fighting in front of your home are, ayee! I’d hide behind the curtain, likely needing a wee-wee, Full marks to the photographer, heroic of thee…
What going on with violence in this country?
I suppose it’s similar in Liverpool and Coventry?
Italy, France, Ireland, America or Germany?
Gangs, some worse than were the Mafia family!.
No peace for the lad’s family. Indeed, there will be no justice in the sentencing if they are found guilty.
Oh, the poor unfortunate little chickadee,
Sentenced to six years in prison… he’ll soon be free…
The Parole Board won’t let him serve more than three,
These overpaid do-gooders really wrangle me!
So are so many paedophiles walking free,
But we can’t cure them, you see?
Why are they let off so easily?
Bent judges? Or full of sympathy?
Do judges and parollers suffer from epicaricacy?
Don’t approach him; he’s dangerous?
Life imprisonment; in an open jail, Jesus!
Why, with such dangerous scum, be generous?
With his record, he’s not likely to be abstemious!
He wants, he takes, violently, certainly not adiaphorous!
He’s cleverer than they thought and stays anonymous…
Till he went on telly, sticking his finger up at us
A letter just arrived from the Doctor,
I know, it was a bit of a shocker…
I thought she’d died; bless her,
It’s been so long since I saw her… November?
I hope she’s not got any sneerier…
I’ve got to make an appointment without failure…
For a Severe Frailty Revue… what can I do?
Cataract ops that’ll make me blind are due?
One on the 15th, then the 18th, not one, but two,
Then the dentists are due around then too…
Dementia Doreen keeps putting me in a screw…
Neuropathy Pete, sending me in a mental stew,
Plans, thoughts, ideas, and intentions are all askew,
Ask for help, they tell me, and that I’d do…
Sounds logical, but to where and who?
Drunken rages; the man needs help, assistance… but he’s, had support before, but he gets more violent, his partner is in desperate need of help, but shows impressive residence and loyalty… why? I don’t know. Likely because she is so scared of the slob? So it’s heartwarming seeing the caring about the victim judge telling him, after issuing the pathetic sentencing, that he will only serve half of the prison term before being released?
Justice is all we want to see?
Something to make the victim worry-free!
I agree that there is no guarantee…
But slaps on the wrist are fiddle de dee…
The justice system has gone all namby-pamby!
The Sun Glasses arrived through the door,
Squashed through the letterbox, Cor!
But unbroken, what is more,
The price tag on them read £15.54!
But I paid £4.94, a bargain for sure…
Plastic tag keeping them closed, or…
I’d try them on, but I can’t open them anymore…
Kathleen’s Cataracts, eyesight so poor,
Now, even so cheap, they’ve lost their allure!
Sad as they come…
Ha, Ha, Ha!
Well, that’s no surprise!
I’m not saying I was not a bit of a tearaway, But, I see more crumbling of morals day by day, Manners, politeness, honesty… all in decay… Empathy, caring, and understanding float away…
Uneducated, unemployable youths today… Join gangs for self-protection, they say? Can’t get a job, to violence they stray… Yet they’re experts on scamming and eBay?
To a degree, it was the same back in my day? But we knew when to give way, not like today… Instead of a one-on-one fistfight, now it’s a machete… Gun, knife, anything to harm and kill nowadays!
If I asked to tell them to be kinder and pray… Then I would end up as one of their prey! They rely on drugs and their illegal distillery, As they age, those not yet killed move on to spivvery, Get too old for burglary and robbery… To become au faux with blackmail and bribery… Some will start wearing ladies’ hosiery… And, if there’s any justice, catch leprosy!
Apparently, he also had charges pending for arson,
Drug supplying, TWOC and mugging with aggression,
He resisted arrest in June, giving a PC an abrasion…
Which bled, and the PC needed a blood transfusion,
Some good news, although he was bitten by a police Alsatian!
Luke Riley was jailed for 18 years; what are the chances?
Guilty of 11 child sex offences… it brings hatred & tears!
Including two counts of rape of a child under 13 years!
The Parole board’ll free the swine after 10, sad dears,
To enable him to rape again, of course…
They’re as guilty as he is, but what is worse…
For another child, it’ll prove disastrous…
Parole namby-pambies deserve some adverse…
Black Magic, hexing, a witches curse,
Locking up, hanging, at least something mortiferous!
No mention of Brayan’s admission of getting 139 illegals into Nottingham last year. No doubt he runs ten properties in the Nott’m area, which is all owned on paper by his Sister back in the city of Kirkuk in south Kurdistanin, and them being room rented out… Ah, Gorrit! Bet he’s shopped on the bosses of the slave trade? That’ll be why they have been treated so lightly for the despicable crimes they have committed? Profiteering by getting the poor lost souls into the country hidden in vans, and making them pay through the nose for years! Gits!
His defence? Almighty God wanted me there! I wouldn’t have thought that Putin would be too bothered?
I bravely hung out of the window this morning…
To take this photo, it was cold, I was shaking…
I hurried it, all done in a twinkling,
But, getting back in, Glaucoma Gladys was itching…
The hospital told me there’s to be no scratching!
The Cataract left eye, not even any touching…
So, I stubbed my toe instead… Hello, the mobile’s ringing?
Who can this be a three o’clock in the morning?
The message above, you see, was somewhat confusing…
I thought the tune was a telephone ring…
But no, definitely someone was texting.
Was this genuine, or was someone hacking?
Mayhaps a cold-caller pestering?
A con-job, this’ll need careful handling?
Carer Richard’s due in two hours; I’m praying…
He’s the lad to help, no quibbling!
It was getting lighter later but not much brighter,
Shut the window, trapped finger… blood blister!
Dropped the ointment and trod on it in a fluster,
But my bravery, I did muster…
Proud, I felt like a boshter!
Three visits, over £2,500 worth of stock filtered…
Had they not caught him, he’d have made a fortune!
Luckily they got him as he faltered…
He’ll be out on parole by the end of June…
To carry on, and Wilko will be pilfered!…
He punctures a stranger’s lungs, fractured his sternum, stabbed him in his chest, he’s on drugs of course – and what do the good old protect the public Crown Court turnips give him for this unprovoked attack? 10 months in Young Offenders holiday camp!!! Then tell him he’ll only serve half of the sentence and be released on licence… I can help but remember the 30 murderers who were released early and all killed again! The 44 early release prisoners who raped again! The 9 who stabbed again… the 11 who raped again… And my biggest hatred, the overpaid yet inept Parole Board scumbags who allowed these to happen – they should be found guilty of the offences of their freed early prisoners!
Just thought I’d mention it.
Inchcock Meal Snippet News
Mushrooms: Nicely seasoned for once
Pickle Balls: Enjoyed them
Apple: Too hard for the teeth to cope
Strawberry dessert: Too sweet
Veggie Hot Dogs: Terrible binned them
SAD LATE NEWS
e-scooters: Eleven deaths and over 1000 injuries were reported across England, Scotland and Wales last year. The use of privately-owned e-scooters on public roads is illegal. The figures alone should be enough for the Government (sic) to act on this.
The poor woman’s family do not want any bother or attention, and they have asked to be left alone, to mourn.
What with these e-scooter killings and injuries, the repeated releasing of killers & rapists early by the Parole Board, who murder and rape again… It baffles me.
Being uneducated, I turned to intuitioning… To replace my lack of logic and reasoning, Judgements were instantaneous, with no conscious thinking! No abductiveness, abstracting or even reasoning… But I had a flair somehow for conceptual thinking?
I was prepared to tackle problems, if nonintimidating, Usually, I’d end up morbidly confused and panicking, Thought Storms, I found myself cathecting… Often ending with my fearing and self-blaming, Doreen Dementure started visiting; she’s beyond taming!
Finding you’ve missed or got something wrong; is excruciating! Yet still, when I stray of a topic to start witwantoning… Searching, no doubt, for comforting, consoling… To find someone who can help, and be approbating… A Doctor mayhaps, who is not so abrogating… But I’m still here alone… and waiting!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Due to my working well into the morning on yesterday’s blog, I didn’t wake up until 07:15hrs. A good job; the Carer didn’t come early cause I’d left the door locked. So, although still in a haze, I had to force my way free of the £300 second-hand, decrepit, c1968, rickety recliner, and get a wash and shave, then dressed. I remembered to unlock the door first.
Despite my rushing, I remembered that I had the J Sainsbury order arriving twixt 8> and 9:00hrs. I didn’t get a single cut shaving and no teeth bleeding (but that was because I forgot to clean the teeth, Hahaha!) I did manage a stubbed toe and a few dropsies.
I got the blood pressures etc., done quickly as I could. Great figures returned, bearing in mind I was hastily hobbling around after getting up so late, trying to get the Health Checks done before the Carer or Delivery arrived. My body temperature was well down, surprising as I was almost sweating with all the rushing about what I was doing? Hey-Ho!
Well gone 08:00hrs and Carer Richard arrived. He was obviously not going to be able to have a chinwag and check the medications in the drawer as he usually does on a Monday because the poor lad had got three extra calls given him for this morning! I slipped him a bottle and a nibble plonk & chocolates in a bag. I make up a bottle of spring water and ass some orange cordial to it and bang it in the fridge to cool for him each day if he comes; nice chap, but under pressure this morning. He still oversaw me as I took the medications; some didn’t even do that. Wishing him good luck, he took the waste bag on his way out. Bless his cotton socks.
At last, I got the kettle on and took some photographs from the balcony.
In the first photo, RVM (Red-Van-Man) in his favourite No Parking, yellow hatched markings. Raining a fair bit!
I noticed some activity, as a silver car arrived and went to park in between the grey and blue vehicles on Chestnut Ways car park. Then backed out again and went down to the end car park (RDM’s area).
And parked opposite RVM, a lot nearer to the entrance. I spotted the deluge of muddy rainwater in the car park as it hurled down the hill in Woodthorpe Grange Park. Can’t blame them as the rain seemed to be coming heavier now.
I went to wash the tea mug as I took this shot from the kitchenette window. Cunningly knocking over the kitchen tools stand as I did so! Another mess to sort out! I think it’s the first time I’ve handled the baster and quick as I picked them up with the picker-upperer since I bought the set. Hehehe! That was donkey’s years ago.
The intercom flashed, and I admitted the J Sainsbury delivery lad. Who threw the food into the boxes, with the bunch of roses going in at the bottom of the box! (I found out later). Tsk!I rescued the flowers and put them in the trolley walker basket to keep them from harm. Can you see the expression on the orange carrier bag handles? ‘The Scream?’ Hahaha!
I got the bows and bags emptied and sorted into various places. Starting with the fridge and freezer products. I’d made a cock-up with the battered Fish & Chips; I thought I’d just ordered chips? I’d also forgotten that I’d got the vegetarian ice cream ordered from JS and have ordered more now from Iceland for tomorrow; what a plonker! Humph! Glad to see they had some more of the Squid Sauce, which is actually liquid salt made from anchovies, and most tasty too! I’ll try to eat stuff from the freezer today to make room for new ones.
I’d got two boxes of four lemon curd bakes, one for Richard. The freshly podded garden peas had gone up in price by a whopping 30%. Boo! And no country of origin on the packet! So, I do not know what to expect tastewise. The Nicaraguan ones can be bitter and unpleasant. Like the last ones bought, they should be sweeter if they are from Peru. As were the Chilean ones last week.
Another of the instant, phooey, watery evacuations. I tried to take a photo of the much improved looking ankles and plates of meat… but as you can see by the image on the right, it was not a good one. That was due to Peripheral Pete and his neurotransmitter failure, creating another intentional leg flailing dance routine. Why, you ask? I hope… I actually took several photographs, but this one was the only one worth using.
What’s more, this dance went on for a long time, which is rare and worrying. I got a bruise or two hitting the porcelain and cabinets with the leg. I’ll have an investigation later to see what shape it’s left the poor old leg is in. I must have put them in the wrong setting. Maybe turned the selector too far of not enough?
Hehe! I got a bag on the trolley walker with the roses in, with some drinkies and phoned Deana to tell her they had arrived as treats in thanks. She said she’ll call later, but things can get hectic in a flash for the wardens, all of us old farts that need to keep an eye on.
I got the three small waste bags made up from the delivery rubbish, grabbed metal Micky and went to the door to go to the chute. Drilling noises permeated through the flat. I assumed the workmen were back doing the electrical repairs or updates in the lift lobby. So, I took the Canon camera with me. I could see the wiring hanging down from the ceiling tiles, and the fire door was wedged open; and made my way out of the flat lobby into the lift lobby. I greeted the workmen with a cheery “Morning, lads!” I think I might have just gone into invisible mode at that moment.
I hobbled around the tools, tiles and wires on the lobby floor, and I got to the waste chute room. Dropped the bags down the chute and was back out in no time. All without any trapped or knocked fingers, leg-dances, shakes or walking into anything.
Back in the lift lobby, all the rubbish on the floor had quickly been removed, and there were no signs of untalkative gentlemen anywhere.
Back in the flat, I decided to have an early meal. My aboulomania and pathological indecisiveness reigned. Of course, it took me ages dithering about what to have. Eventually, despite Dementia Doreen, I remembered I wanted to use up some frozen foods today to make room for the superb-tasting NoBull ice cream I’ve ordered from Iceland for tomorrow’s delivery.
I oven cooked a massive amount of chips (fries), to clear a bit of room in the freezer, as you can see. Hehe! I ate far too much. All my good work on the dieting over the last week meant nothing, as I feasted, licking my lips and feeling very guilty!
Taste-Report: The imitation fish sticks were tasty. The imitation smoked kippers in a vegetable sauce were super! The chips and tomatoes were excellent! The unknown origin shelled peas were disappointing. So, the plate of food gets an 8.2/10 Flavour-Rating!
The J Sainsbury cheese twist, and the sourdough bread, were both dry, bland and hard. So neither got eaten entirely. Eurgh! Shame! A score of 3/10 for them. I just thought I’d remind you of the new Sainsbury’s slogan they have adopted. Grangleturds!
Got the washing up done, and a Meridian supervisor came to do a Customer Satisfaction review. I had to be honest with her. Treated her to a choice of nibbles afterwards, though. Dean arrived at almost the same time to collect her treats. I think it’s three or four weeks now before her wedding. She said she particularly liked yellow roses. She took the bag of goodies, and I even remembered to add the strawberries from the fridge.
2: The moment the Meridian gal left… l had to make a swift as was possible hobble to the wet room! It was a close call again! No pushing required, down… splash-splurt; all done in seconds! Cleaned up and washed, then took another Dioctyl poo-softener… I’ll start taking them one a day henceforth until they run out, or Trotsky Terrence loses his winning streak over Constipation Konrad! I must remember to ask Carer Richard to read the use-by date on the pot in the morning. I think cataract Kathleen is making my sight a little worse each day.
I got the pot of vegetarian ice cream that I got from JS, and I had a few big spoonfuls. Compared to the No-Moo one from Iceland, it was whiter but too sweet (I’ll still eat it, though, Hehe!) Costlier too! The No-Moo one was yellower, not so well packed and tasted less sugary, which suited me more than the JS one. Especially as these ones coming tomorrow were on offer. From £2.50 down to £1.50! Definitely, a case of and a tasty treat discovered!
I nodded off, emptied bowl on my belly, in the second-hand, £300, charity shop-bought, gungy beige coloured, rickety, c1968 recliner. It was bliss while it lasted, but it only lasted for ten minutes, as the ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ tune burst forth from the door chime.
It was Sarah… or Samantha maybe? She got the medications sorted, but did not check as I took them for any dropped or regurgitated ones. So much for my mentioning this earlier. But she’s a good gal. No treats were accepted this time. Bless her!
I made up some Spring Water bottles, one with lime, one orange and the small one with lemon & lime. I do live well!
At 20:25hrs, I got restarted the WP and got back on Monday’s blog updating. Getting the latest photos uploaded first. So many were not useable, I had no idea I was shaking so much, and somehow a lot of them were lost. A
I got as far as here, and I went on the WordPress Comments. That took longer than I thought it would, nearly midnight now and the eyes are making things hard with the keyboard and screen.
I think of odd things, many sorts, some ulteriorly… Some thoughts are of electrical technicality… The TV stopped working, the DVD too… The computer does its own thing, getting me into a stew, The help pamphlet is all written metrically, But I was educated in inches and things imperially!
I write thoughts in an ode, mostly inferiorly… Cause my sleeping is now all somnambulistically, I went to the Porcelain Throne, and it came out like gooey glue! Concentration is hard, lack of kip I rue… But making these crap odes, I still pursue, I don’t think I love owt else I do…
But dreams and hopes, I had a few… Into the ether, they all got threw, Oh, dearie me, Throne time again, stinkaroo! What does the future hold? Do I want a preview? Whatever, if any, will not hold any bijou… I know! I’ll give myself a sanity interview?
Thursday 2nd June 2022
From my scribbled notes: 30% of which I couldn’t decipher or guesstimated.
04:40hrs: I gave up trying to stay asleep; the jumping awakes were endless again! Rose for a wee-wee. (Unreadable) Something to do with the Canon camera?
Put the kettle on, made a brew of JS Extra-Strong Brown Label tea, and tried to sort out the Canon camera’s problem. Gave up and went to make another brew. This time, using the rather delightful full-bodied Thompsons Signature tea.
Very tasty! Took a photo from the kitchen window, through the glass.
Took another photo of the view using the flash. I can’t remember why; maybe I could have been testing to see if the flash worked? I’ve still not remembered what the original fault was? I used the Fuji after this. So whatever it was (I’ll remember soon) had not been righted or mended yet. (I’m assuming here?)
The Boot’s Chinese made Blood Pressure machine’s sphygmomanometerisationing gave me a bit of a shock this morning! I checked on the NHS DVT site. SYS 174, DIA 67 and Pulse of 88.
Ah, well. I got the body temperature done. It’s a little low again, but it has been for weeks now; I don’t feel any worse for it… I’ve got the eyes, Doreen Dementia etc., to worry me more. It’ll be back down tomorrow, I expect.
A lot of squashed up scribbling on the notepad here. Tea, view (but I can’t find any photos of it?). Bogging, hard work, errors, mistakes… Finished blog, sent off, emailed link, Pinterested and Facebooking.
Window cleaning Joe arrived. Nice chap. He lets me waffle on without looking too bored at me. A good quality that is on a man. There is some more undecipherable squiggling here… no, I can’t make it out.
Ah, this I can… the swine!
It’s an exciting bit of writing here… Best I can make out; what it says is: Blu snaps Herb? WP Reader…
Ah, that’ll be Herbert, the contemptuous, hoity-toity, holier-than-thou, can’t-do-wrong chap living above me making noise again.
The tootsies and toes looked a smidge bedraggled when I came out of the wet room. It had not gone all that well in the ablutionary session either.
When I took a wee-wee, the product escaped in trickles, yet the after dribble lasted three times as long as the main event did! Then came a cropper on the trolley wheel… I’ve not done yet… Little Inchies had to be cleaned again and medicationalised… which means. Then as I was leaving through the door, there were no injuries this time. In fact, I went into a scenario! The lesion and toe were enough for me to cope with anyway.
Took a snap of RVD’s (Red Van Man’s) parking in the end car park. Someone had beaten him to his favourite, ‘I’m not bothered’, illegal no parking chevron spot.
Hehehe! I felt a little sorry for him, really.
I got the nosh sorted out and served up. I enjoyed it but fell asleep eating it, woke up, and finished off the cold meal without any bother or interest. I just accepted that Dementia Doreen will be with me forever now. Not a pleasant thought.
Carer Lisa arrived as I was about to take the tray through to get the things washed up. Nibbles and plonk offered in thanks. Nice gal.
I came over, all accepting again. There is nowt that can be done about Peripheral Neuropathy; I’ve accepted that from the off. But Doreen’s Dementia is the one ailment that’s getting to me. I leave taps running, cooking on and in, the stove… and I honestly can’t tell you what day or year it is… Yes, I can. (Just looked at the computer! A depression with a difference suddenly tonight. A smidge of morbidity with it… no, no, that’s not the right word… erm… a type of self-declaration, come of affirmation of any ability or interest from anyone, in trying to help me out. My mind is crumbling… well, the body is not doing much better. Hehe! Yet I accept the situation because, as I see it, there really is nothing to be done to help with the Dementia or dying peripheral neurotransmitter battles. I hope to live and love it long enough to get the teeth, eyes, and hearing treated.
I sat there for a couple of hours in utter silence – Yes! The Thought-Storms had abandoned me for the first time in months. Actually, this bothered me a bit! I was saved by the World-Wide-Hum, and both started being noisy in the extreme… but I think I welcomed it. I managed as blank a mind as must be possible. Still, the overriding view of acceptance, nothing to be done, lingered... I noted the time, 21:00hrs, as I tried to get some shut-eye. At 21:03hrs, the Thought Storms with apparently recharged batteries kicked off!
Sweet Morpheus didn’t stand a chance. I lay there fighting, talking to, and cursing the self-nit-picking, derogatory Thought Storms. Never had them as bad, and in the end, I got up around three o’clock for a most unwilling wee-wee, and again I suffered from the. Now I was feeling somewhat fed up in the extreme! So, I went through to put the kettle on… Continued below!
As if I wasn’t in a self-hating depressive, elegiacal, had-enough mood already: I got in the kitchen and realised I’d left the hot water tap running! Naturally, the water was stone cold. But it got worse!
I spotted that I’d also left the fridge door open! Self-denigration and a sense of fear or apprehension came over me. Which I was almost wallowing in? When the bowels demanded that I visit the wet room.
This case is entirely different to yesterday’s evacuation. Trotsky Terence was in charge. Gooey, messy… and it took me ages to get things cleaned up. I must have dropped or knocked over the walking stick four times, yet my self-anger calmed down! I developed a new to me outlook! A semi, but weak determination not to let things get to me. Because things will not get any better, I can try to alter my responses? It’s not doing me any good getting all het-up! I tried to find last night’s ‘Acceptance Mode’, and sure enough, things calmed down.
I remembered the high BP of Thursday and went to finally make a brew of Thompsons’ Punjana, relaxed as much as I could, and got the sphygmomanometer going. And sure enough, the BP was lower. SYS 147 (from 174), DIA 70 (67), and Pulse at 81 (88). According to the NHS, today’s reading is acceptable; 60-85 bpm is suggested. According to my Chinese Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co, the body temperature. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, was 33.6°c, up a bit.
The feet still looked and felt a little sore.
But have often hurt me much more,
I must stop moaning anymore.
I can’t put it any blunter,
Accept things, as said thereinbefore
It’s the only way to perdure!
I spent many hours on the computer, updating blogs, correcting cock-ups, and eventually getting the blog done and posted. Then, Pinteresting, WP reading, and WordPress Comment making.
T’was an unexpected pleasure to see that Carer Richard called this morning. He didn’t have time for a good chinwag as he had another call to do, bless him. He listened to my tales a while, I offered nibble and drinkies of his choice, and off he went, we exchanged all-the-bests.
Back to the computer, but Mr Fries, the $23million a year salaried leader of shit Liberty-Global, let me down yet again. This week, about 12 times, the overpaid, number-juggler & cruncher has proved his inability to get a Virgin Media internet signal to stay on in Nottingham. Please don’t think this has created jealousy and hatred for the scum-bucket. Oh, no!
When Mr Fries managed to get a signal back, I spent many hours doing the top Ode for this blog and updating it. I was doing well… until…
The smoke & mirrors man, the fiddler of figures, and incapable of running an internet service without losing the signal, Mr Fries, the Mafia looking character, fails again! Humph!
While waiting on Mr Fries to get his minions to resupply Winwood Heights with his unreliable, pathetic, crap, overcharging, customer-hating enslaved people to get the signal back. I took a few photographs. Mayhaps I should send this to Mr Fries, so he knows where he is not sending, but overcharging for it, internet supply?
So, I took more photographs while waiting for Fries, the £23m salaried boss, to get the Liberty-Global signal again.
Only one vehicle was parked, snuggly on the no-parking yellow chevrons at the end of the car park on Chestnut Way. Only one vehicle in, RVD (Red-Van-Man).
The front car park opposite my beloved Woodthorpe Court.
The car park faces Winwood and Winchester Courts.
Hello, he’s off again. Clunk, clatter! Back to the photographicalisationing…
Then, a photo of the beautiful clouds in the sky.
Not many folks out there; I suppose they are watching the ER celebrations for the Queens?
The Queen was praised for “staying the course” as royals joined dignitaries at a thanksgiving service for the Platinum Jubilee at St Paul’s Cathedral. Referring to her love of horse racing, Archbishop of York Stephen Cottrell said she is “still in the saddle”, even though she could not attend. The Duke and Duchess of Sussex joined for their first royal event together since leaving the UK two years ago. Meanwhile, the Queen, 96, watched the service from Windsor Castle.
Well, the Royal Family members all look happy, don’t they? Charles has waiting so long to get the Throne I don’t think he’s up to it anymore. Hehehe!
I got some spuds boiling to make cheesy mash with.
Well done, Mr Fries! The internet’s back on again. Touch of well-deserved Sarcasm there…
Got the meal prepared and served up. Cheesy topped halved boiled potatoes, baked off to crisp the red Leicester cheese. Veggie sausages, baked beans with Henderson’s relish added, wholemeal cobs, tomatoes, and a banana.
Halfway through it and watching a Heartbeat episode on the box, I was in my element. The evening carer arrived. Chloe, nice gal. Got the meds sorted and had a little natter. She took the waste bag with her to the shoot for me. I locked the door and got back to finishing the not so hot meal. Dementia Doreen and number-cruncher Liberty Global’s Mr Fries are to blame for confusing me as to what time it was. Hehehe!
With its pink-tinged coloured streaky clouds, the sky looked absolutely amazing to me tonight. No doubt that Mother Nature is a beautiful beast! I can’t recall being so interested in the skies all my life.
We need to start straight away protecting this planet. We’ve polluted it uncaringly, not a thought for the future generations… if there is to be any. And all for gain and personal profit. So shadow-benders and number-crunchers like Mr Fries can earn $23 million a year, and Putin can do a Hitler in attacking other countries! Nowadays, he is doing it risk-free. No Americans to save the day for Ukraine, like they did for the UK, France, Poland etc., sad.
Got down in the £300 second-hand, decrepit, c1968, rickety recliner on a mission to get some sleep. Huh! Well, I did, but it was hours later!
END OF THE WORLD THOUGHTS in Ode…
All tellurians have something in common – caducity!
Humans have greed, jealousy, egocentricity & abstrucity,
The majority get cheered from money, not true felicity…
They destroy the planet with great feracity…
Believe me, mankind has this ability, fruitfully…
To gain their lucre, they’ll use violence and feracity…
Every one of our nation’s leaders leads with lubricity!
I suppose this Ode reads with a certain mordacity?
So, let’s save the earth with haste and pertinacity!
I wanted Mummy to love me for sure… But crime had caused her departure… Police caught her in a cottage on the river Nure, But that was years later, not really a cure…
I wanted to become a competent swimmer… But I soon discovered that I was scared of water, I soon got Inchcock as a new nomenclature… I fought to get into the footy team, the agony I did endure… But I was useless; I even thought of becoming a friar!
Things were depressing and getting dire… Then we had a nasty frying pan fire… Left me scalded, but to the pain, I am no stranger, The most used word to me was Shurrup! I was a chinwagger… I once poked myself in the eye with a penny banger!
I try dancing, the Twist and the Conger… Of course, I can’t do them any longer… In those days, I was younger and stronger, And, I was earning some serious wonga, All of which I’ve spent and have no longer…
Nowadays, my life is a little austerer… To socialisationing, I’ve become a sightseer, My ailments often mean that I feel a bit queer… So when someone relates to me, I hold it dear… But folks generally keep away, don’t come near!
I became a Headway volunteer… Tried to give the patients a little cheer We’d share Monopoly, darts and the odd root beer… I’ve never been any kind of profiteer… Eventually, they said I was becoming battier…
Why? was it some form of solastalgia? I found out it was due to Peripheral Neuralgia, I was definitely getting a little crochetier… And my body was getting heftier… fatter, I decided that this didn’t matter…
With my self-hatred, I felt evermore guiltier… My calling myself names got much nastier, If I just accept things, maybe life may come easier… I even went to speak with the local vicar… He touched what he shouldn’t. I’m now a nonbeliever!
I still press on, getting wobblier and clumsier, To avoid depression, I tried to keep myself busier, Each day I get crappier, creepier, and dizzier… Even the carers think that I’m getting barmier! I admit I’m getting poorlier, older and bolshier!
There’s no denying that I’m getting more Clishmaclaver… Numbers, figures calculation I can no longer figure, I muse over my fear, praying there may be a cure… Against the darkness of gloom, I cannot enure!
Even talking to myself, I’m getting more spitefuller… I can’t reason things sometimes; that makes me mardier… And my body is aching so, and getting lardier… My wee-weeing is more frequent and dribblier, My Haemorrhoids are bloodier and much itchier!
The short term memory is confused, vaguer, muddier… And used to be such an excellent rememberer! At this moment, I don’t know if it’s March or September? Have I put the oven on yet? I’ll have a gander… No, I’ve not; what else have I missed on my agenda? Well, I left the hot tap on… frustration and anger!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Diary Tuesday 1st June 2022
After perhaps twenty jump-awakes, I gave up on the 21st or so and rose onto my feet for a wee-wee at 04:10hrs. Grumph!
The leak was free of Pre and After Micturitional Dribbling. Well, that was something! It sort of got me in an up mood.
I trotted off to the wet room to empty and sanitize the wee-wee bucket, and I got the Ablutions done while I was in there. There was only one tiny nick shaving and two dropsies, none of which caused any bother. A good session as well this time.
Got the Blood Pressure and Temperature sorted out. Despite the lousy night’s limited sleep and unending damned shooting awake, I was not in a bad mood, with a jump almost! They are getting worse each night?
SIA 136. DIA 71 and the Pulse were at 77bpm, I think. Cataracts etc., making it hard for me to see. The body temperature was still slightly low at 33.6°c, but not a lot below the 35.0°c target. It might be more explicit when blogging.
I nipped off to make a waste bag-up and got some potatoes in the saucepan to marinate in the fish sauce before boiling later on. I was on form today!
Made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana tea, and the early morning sky caught my good eye. The cloud looked like it would turn into an alien spaceship and burst into view. I must have got the idea from a film that I’d seen? I’ll remember it! Got some photo’s from the SD card onto the computer. And started to do the Ode Tuesday blog.
I’d not gotten far with the odeing, and the call to the Porcelain Throne arrived from the innards. Trotsky Terence shared control; along with Constipation Konrad; I know it doesn’t make sense. But again, the movement took ages to get started and needed so much effort it was painful with it when it did begin, which wasn’t for a long time. I even got some answers in the crossword! But when things moved, they were cripplingly slow, and the final desperate push exited not rock hard as the first few but messy and gooey? What? I didn’t like that session at all!
Back to the odeing and got it finished at last. Getting ready to review the blog before posting, and ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ Chimed out. As soon as I heard it, I remembered I’d not yet unlocked the door. So, I did!
The look on Carer Richard’s face was with a place in the Tate Gallery! Worth a thousand words. Amongst them would be, “You pillock, you’ve forgotten again to unlock the door!” Hehe!
I was busy on the blogging, but due to a three-hour circumlocution of great vagueness, I can only use the scribbled notes to guess what took place. Here they are as best I can decipher them: Ode… rushing, emailed, Facebooking, WP Comments, WP Reader… Ode for today… Conrad Confusion, mind-blanks… rampant wee-wees…
I checked on the spuds to find that I’d not turned on the heat. Plonker!
Herbert was not so bad today, not as loud. But still persistent throughout.
Took Strawberries unwanted by Richard to Josie. Got the nosh sorted out. Beer battered chips were great, and new potatoes with BBQ sauce and a ketchup dip pot. Sourdough bread, veg sausages, and tomatoes. Baby banana to follow. 8.2/10.
Still vague-minded, no idea who came… yes, I have; it might have been Cheeky-Charley… Yes, I think it was. Bless her.
Grrreat!I nodded off within ten minutes and stayed that way for three solid hours! Then the jumping-awake started again… Grumph!
ThoughtStorms attack when I’m not at my best… Vulnerable, trying to sleep, or feeling undistressed, The brain, with guilt, and fear, brings self-disgust… I always get myself uptight and newly distressed… There are no faults or mistakes that can’t be accessed! Within minutes, I always become depressed!
The torrents of self-hate cannot be suppressed, Regurgitated mistakes, from the first to the latest… Minor, severe and the most pleasantest… They even dig-up long gone thoughts, the absurdest, Accepting the blame, taking it on the chin & chest… I find it often less painful and the wisest!
DEMENTIA DOREEN ODE
I’ve considered booking a visit with a Gerontologist… But I’d probably forget, and the appointment was missed! As I did the other month with the dentist, And every appointment with the chiropodist… Oh, and last appointment with the urologist, Can I get help from a witch doctor or voodooist?
Hot & cold water taps (faucets) left running, Food forgot about cooking, burnt… burning, Falls that leave me bruised and bleeding… As for my decision-making, I call it dithering! My concentration and memory constantly withering… Vascular Dementia Doreen can be most gruelling!
Thought-Storms, can be depressing and belittling, Falls on the sock glide, and I need disentangling… Cataracts: things often walked into and banging, Toe Stubbing daily; in fact, at this, I am excelling! Peripheral neurotransmitters unfortunately dying, Encouraging the odd right leg wobble and dancing… Shuddering Shoulder Shirley has the torso flailing…
Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, need overhauling, Mechanic ticker, my fungal lesion, need sorting… Arthur Itis, Cartilage Kathy, need medicationalisationing… Glaucoma Gladys, too, and my belching needs muzzling… Bladder cancer, which can cause havoc wee-weeing! The old hearing aids can be a little niggling, But most of all, I could do with my brain recycling!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
MONDAY 30th MAY 2022
03:15hrs: For the umpteenth time, I sprang into wakefulness. Pondered on getting up, I passed wind and belched, and then I nodded again.
Waking the next time, with the usual jerking and jumping, at 05:25hrs. My mind was confused before I got out of the £300 second-hand c1968 recliner to catch my balance; What day is it? Who’s calling today… is anyone. I think there is… As I rose, got dressed, and found myself in the kitchen, making up some waste bags?
I think I was talking aloud to myself as I suddenly decided to get the ablutions tended to. Off to the wet room with the towel from the airer…
I hit my shoulder on the way through the door; my spatial awareness was obviously impaired this morning. Even as Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley kicked off, I took this in my stride. Even started getting back interest and concentration. But the lackadaisicalness remained. I felt almost laid-back and unconcerned, accepted that things would happen, and saw no point worrying about something? (Not me, at all, what’s was going on here?) No shaving cuts, Dizzy Dennis or Shaking Shaun visits. As I was towelling off, I even remembered that my precious Hristina was on her way to take the DVT blood sample, and the Iceland order was coming twixt 8>10:00hrs.
I finished the waste bag I’d started earlier and got the computer on. The WordPress blogger was still not letting me open the comments from the editor. Again my outlook changed… I surprised myself at how annoyed I became?
Oh, dearie me, what a messy visit to the Throne it was! Again, it felt like it would be challenging to get the movement started, so I got the crossword book from the floor cabinet.
How wrong I was! After annoying myself further by failing to make progress with the crossword puzzle, the sloppy mess of an evacuation almost squirted out all over the place. It took me ages to get the area and myself cleaned up, and I was getting hotter under the collar all the time. I became fuming! I went from laid-back to apprehensive, insecure and somewhat pissed off with things?
I was now getting more flummoxed than angry! Changed my PPs (Protection Pants) Confusion Conrad was in charge.
I went back onto the computer and got some photographs loaded. The card reader working seemed to raise my up and down spirits a smidgeon when it let me get them on. This on the right is from last night; I got up at one of the spring awakes to take it.
What was going on with my mood swings? I didn’t understand. But I was whistling to myself as I took this snap of the end car park on Chestnut Way, just beyond Woodthorpe Court. I caught a moving vehicle today! Hehe!
I got the Blood-Pressure and temperature taken. Fair results on the Boot’s all Boot’s Sphygmomanometer, manufactured by ZDEAC (Zhongshan Daguan Electrical Appliance Company Ltd) in Guangdong, China.
My Chinese (Hong Kong) is made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, showed a very low reading this Monday morning (Well. it would do, it’s Monday – Hahaha!), at 34°c.
I went to make a brew of Thompson’s Punjana tea, and ♫ Oh, Susana.. ♫ rang from the door chime. It was my new pal and Carer, Richard. I got him a cold drink to help him cool down; the lad has Diabetes, and sweats all the time, Bless him. A right pair we are; Richard is sweating while I am shivering. Hehe! He looked tired and said he’d not gotten much sleep during his couple of days off. Poor lad! He wasn’t moaning, just answering when I asked him how he’s been sleeping. Rich got the medications sorted and watched me take them, so I didn’t drop any. Then made the wristlet alarm check call for me. I wanted to natter away with him, but I could see he was all in, so I resisted.
After the man had departed, I went on the Google calendar. To check for anything I might have forgotten about. Or put on the wrong day and or time. Haha! Hehehe! I’ve just seen how funny that must have sounded, me; forgetting something… there’s almost a guarantee that I will! I got onto the Sunday blog, updated it, and posted it to WordPress. My gumption seems to have been lifted somewhat by seeing Richard, my Lionheart Carer. If he’s feeling better tomorrow, we can have a better nattering session.
Hello, I think someone above it having some repairs done. A lot of drilling and hammering noises started. Had a wee-wee.
Off to the wet room, I hobbled. I was bending down to retrieve a pencil I’d dropped, and as I wobbled down towards it… a warm damp sensation emanated from Little Inchies Fungal Lesion’s location inside the PPs! Only a tiny spot of bleeding; I was most surprised that it registered with the brain…
An unexpected case of, I got myself washed yet again, freshened up the wee-wee-sprayed legs, and put the trousers in soak. On my removing the pants to put new ones on, what had happened became embarrassingly apparent. It’s a good life innit old age! However, I coped with it pretty calmly, especially compared to how things were earlier in the morning! In fact, I adopted a well deserved.
I was doing the top ode for this blog, and ♫ Oh, Susana.. ♫ rang from the door chime. This time it was heaven-sent Hristina. The DVT haematology nurse comes to take my blood sample for the Warfarin test. Now my spirits were at their peak for the day!
I’d let her down, though. I’d let Dementia Doreen allow me to throw away the wrong part of last week’s assessment and dosages record. She was so sweet about it, though. It caused her to be delayed a while, having to make up a new one. Selfishly, it gave my eyes a little longer to cast over her beauty… Getting carried away there, sorry!
The free Iceland delivery arrived. And the man out the carriers in the doorway for me. But, after getting them through to the kitchenette to sort out, I found a few things that I was not too happy about. I had ordered three 500g bags of small Jersey new potatoes… This above on the right is what they substituted them with: Three 2.5kg bags of potatoes! Is that not 25 times more spuds than I ordered? Hailing Professor Bill Ziegler, in Lab 28, at Manor Laboratories Time Machine Creation wing! (He has a slide rule, you see!), and Tim Price in New Mexico (He has a Mac computer!) for help. And neither of them suffers from Arithmophobia, like wot I do. Hehehe!
However, they also had no (6) sliced bread rolls (£1). But substituted rolls of four rolls that were 2 for £1, charging 85p! I think? Anyway, they also sent Moroccan tomatoes. That was my own fault (Doreen Dementia, perhaps?) for forgetting how foul they tasted last time I got some! I suppose I could put them out for the rats, but I’m not that cruel! The Strawberries, 3 for £5, two had a day’s life, the other today’s date! They had some beefburger cobs for Richard’s treats on the plus side.
The fridge was looking fuller now, at least. Some stuff is inedible, like the killer tomatoes from Morocco. You’d have laughed seeing me try to make room in the freezer for the potato chips to get in. I distinctly remember being dubious over which of the two packets above to buy, and at the time of my ordering, I realised that there would only be room for one. I thought I’d only ordered one of them… Dementia Doreen again?
After spending several hours writing and amending my mistakes on this blog, I decided it was time to get some nosh… Great balls of fire! It’s 17:00hrs already!!!! The evening carer will be here soon! Gotten Himmel, where did the day go?
Hehe! I took a picture of the evening sky before it started getting dark. Please tell me you can see an animal in the clouds… this was probably noticed with the help of Cataract Kathleen, with support from Glaucoma Gladys.
I made an order for Morrisons to save having it at the weekend. I hope I can get the chips into the fridge… that’s the real reason I ordered this: the fresh curry battered chips. They tasted fantabulous! Guilty!
Got the nosh sorted out. I halved the potatoes I boiled earlier and got them in the oven to crisp off. There are a few crappy, horrible halved Moroccan tomatoes (Eurgh!), the last veg burger, and the last honey yoghourt. It was not too good. Taste 3.3/10.
I was just finishing with the meal, and ♫ Oh. Susana ♫ chimed out, and in came Carer Valerie. Val got the medications sorted, and I took them. I’m glad it was Val cause O could give her one of the massive bags of potatoes that Iceland overloaded me with and know they will not go to waste. The other one is for Richard in the morning, that is, if he wants it, of course. (Well, it seemed a good idea? Hehe!) Thanked Valerie; she took the waste bag as she left; bless her.
Then, the most dubious mission of the day… Trying to get and stay asleep! Mission impossible? Yes, it was! I put the TV on, there was nothing to watch, but that didn’t matter. Usually, I nod off during the commercial breaks, which I did on just about every one of them for three hours, but I only slept for a few minutes, and I shot back awake all the time (of the three hours). Sweet Morpheus was in a proper cantankerous mood!
I looked in the mirror last night; a terrible sight! It was as if I’d been battered in a fistfight, Blotches, pale eyes, a depression, it did incite… How do I get into this mentally-inspired plight? The physical ailments, I’m coping with them alright… Although some of them can at times be a fight… Cataracts, neuropathy, deaf, etc. have ruined my rike, I’ve no confidence left; I feel like a troglodyte!
Was my being born an accident or oversight? Mother ran away, was the start of my many a fike… In social interactions, at 76, I’m still a neophyte… Which doesn’t explain why my eyes and skin are so white? The red patches remind me of the pox and bryophyte… But I’m going to stop worrying… well, I might… Things come to me, ailments, fears and many a blight… What future I’ve left is not looking too bright!
I need to do something, like mind-defragging, Free the tension, keep the tongues from wagging, Cause it’s no use hiding and camouflaging… My failures, incompetency and my not belonging! My faults in the future, I’ll be acknowledging, I’ll start with cutting out the foul language and effing… Cut down my time blogging and cybersurfing! From overeating, I’ll start abstaining, Why do all that, you may be asking? I can’t remember now, and that’s alarming!
YOU CAN TELL HE IS CHEERING UP A BIT, CAN’T YOU
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Friday 27th May
04:30hrs: I woke with the usual jump but soon regained all possible control (Which was not a lot) of my brain. And responded niftily to the call from Bladder Blair for a wee-wee.
Washed and made a brew of Thompsons’ Signature tea. Got on the computer and started to get the photos on.
These on the right are from last evening after I’d got the nosh consumed and settled down in the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner.
But I kept getting up again to photograph the sky.
Resettled but dozed for half an hour and shot wide awake again. Humph!
And the glow from the sky was coming through the curtain. I just had to, and I did, get up yet again to take these three pictures on the left of the evening late sunsetting.
These were a lot more colourful than the earlier ones.
The first one I took and made was while making a brew of Glengettie tea. By the time I’d made the mug, the rain had stopped, and the whole sky had changed colour with some interesting orange-hued puffer clouds near the horizon.
Mother nature never seems to stop amazing me.
I started to update the Wednesday/Thursday blog. Then within minutes, I had to return to the wet room, in need of the Porcelain Throne. So, I did!
A messy Trotsky Terence controlled evacuation again, but not as bad as yesterday. Not one of my better ones! I opted to get the ablutions done while I was in there.
The teeth bled; I dropped the razor and banged my shoulder on the sink, bending down to retrieve it. Then proceeded to give me several cuts shaving, under the chin, the ear-hole, and…wait for this… my left index finger! Then as I looked in the shaving mirror as I was cleaning it, I saw the blotches all over my face! Worra state! And the eye sockets looked proper pink?
Carer Valerie arrived. She got the medications sorted out, and we managed a little natter between us. And Val took the laundry with her and the waste bag, saying as Arni did… “I’ll be back!” Hehe!
I went back onto the blog and got it finished and posted off. Pinterested some photos and got on Facebook catch-up.
Then the Amazon Morrison order arrived. A lovely foreign lady, polite and sociable gal, bless her cotton socks. Three items were out of stock. And the onion chips were substituted with curry chips. Not sure that I will be keen on them, but, you never know, they might taste alright for me. At least I got the red potato fritters and one of the three battered chips I wanted.
Then, I got the things sorted and stored. There didn’t seem much to go in the freezer, which was just as well cause there was no room in the drawers anyway. I did get a loaf of bread in.
The fridge didn’t look anywhere as near full as usual after a delivery? Was I getting good and ordering less?
Well, no, not really. Why the heck I ordered a packet of Thompson’s Signature tea bags? I don’t know. I’ve got six packages of Thompson’s Punjana, two of J Sainsbury Red label extra strong, and a box of Glengettie in stock already? Oh, and a bix of Co-op 99 as well!
I got the flower treats that should have been coming on Monday for today. My EQ told me to. There will be something occurring on Monday medically, mayhaps, he tells me? I rang Warden and Desktop dancer Deana to tell her they were here, and when she came later, she kindly took a bunch to Francis for me. I can’t recall their names, but there were two different types. She had a choice of whichever she fancied.
I returned to finish off the Facebooking and then comments on WordPress. I got a call from my precious Hristina, the Warfarin DVT blood nurse; she will be calling twixt 10-1200hrs on Monday for the following test sample. I added it to the Google calendar. Got the Blood Pressure figured out. A bit high this morning. But this does happen now and then; it may have been with me hearing Hristina’s voice?
The body temperature was low, but nowt to worry about.
Carer Valerie returned the laundry for me. Thanked her, and off she went. I visited the junk room to hang the clothes. I was disappointed in the state of the jammie bottoms, all creased up, one leg inside out. One long-sleeved tee shirt was the same with the arms. The trousers were crunched up and creased. I must try to get Meridian to stop doing the washing for me… and paying them!
The tap tapping and noises that sounded like something metal-like being dropped kicked off. Still, he’s been quiet up till now.
Made an order for Iceland next week. Then got the nosh sorted. Oh, Boy, were those curried potato chips tasty! Yes, they were! Buttered mushroom pate sarnies, gherkins, red and orange tomatoes. A banana to follow and a worthy 8.3/10 for taste! Lovely!
I got settled to await the arrival of the evening carer, who was a smidge late, not that it mattered. I started to watch a Heartbeat episode, and every few minutes, I’d nod off for a couple of minutes, wake up, and off again. Most aggranoying, as I’d not seen this episode before. Tsk!
The evening carer arrived, medicated me, and asked if the laundry was ready to collect. I said that Valerie had done it this morning. A nibble and can of plonk were selected, and she took the waste bag with her.
Locked the door and got settled to watch the second episode of Heartbeat on the box. But, No! I kept nodding off again and shooting awake after a few minutes, only to drift off again and repeat the procedure?
Somehow I did manage to nod off, but it was hours later.
My much blotchy pot-marked face, A sign of age, rotting and decays? To be expected, I think nowadays… Like wee-weeing in spurts and sprays. Or losing memories that fade and stray… Along with confusing, baffling thought waves… Needing a kip each day, before midday… Recalling when one was alive, in one’s heyday, You’re looking towards the next pension day, Coping with Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley… Deaf, cataracts, depression Monday to Sunday…
My excrescences, give me haute couture, If that’s the word, I’m not really sure… I wonder if the Tate would make a sculpture? I’d like to be a giver, cheerer-upperer, enricher… Or an MP, maybe even a frontbencher? Perhaps best, if I stay as this demented old failure, Although I’m sadly an incompetent botcher… A harmless old fart who’s into pareidolia… Awaiting St Peter’s greeting as he says, ‘Gotcha!’ Possibly, my brain may have caught paranoia?
♫ Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain… ♫
♫ Telling me just what a fool I’ve been… ♫
My bad luck, or lack of good fortune, continues!
A simple nosh made for a simpleton, Who knows not what is a sextillion… Who passes wind, and creates a septon, Dementia has made his brain wanton… Yet had a dream, a hope and a premonition… One day he’ll write a daily newspaper’s feuilleton, But he’s too old now, this bald, retarded Briton… He still cooks, nowt fancy like venison or a wonton,
I’ve waffled again, then again, and so did Byron? I’ll try summat daring – like eating a persimmon! I’m mentally decaying, needing a psychosurgeon? Desperate to be seen by a neurosurgeon… To be honest, I’d take from any chirurgeon! Even if it helped just as smidgeon… To slow down my deteriorating condition!
Evening carer has been, all shattered, but mentally okay, Of course, there was no chance of it staying this way… Control of my grey-cells thinking seems so far away… No matter what I try, the confusion’s here to stay… Of course, I’ve tried for help; I often pray, But there’s no chance of improvement, I daresay… Just have to hope tomorrow is a better day…
Lost the plot on this Ode; I don’t need to be told, My mind refuses to be controlled… I’ve no virtues of being extolled… I’m not feeling very bold… Problems that need to be resolved? Why has my good-luck gland never evolved? Why have I never won a gold? No wonder my hopes have dissolved!
You may think this diary is so short on content and reckon I’d lost the reminder pad, and I spent hours searching for it and couldn’t find it anywhere? Panicked and faffed about, stubbing my toe and using naughty language as I built up my hatred for Vascular Dementia Doreen?
This guesstimate or thought would be Spot-On!
THURSDAY 26th MAY 2022
Cor blimey, and luv-a-duck! What a fantastic kip I had last night! I reckon I’d had about seven uninterrupted hours with Sweet Morpheus! I stirred back into pretending life around 0535hrs.
Of course, with not getting up repeatedly for a wee-wee, I was in a desperate need within seconds of waking up. The trip to the bucket was interrupted by a new requirement – the Porcelain Throne.
The lower back pain kicked off as I turned with metal Mickey in hand to divert to the wet room. In the hallway, dang it! Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters came back online, and the leg flailed… straight into the edge of the doorframe, acquiring a rather nasty toe-stubbing to add to my slowly increasing collections of morning pains!
And what a messy session it turned out to be! Despite waiting many minutes for the motion to start and having a failed attempt at getting any clues answered on the crossword that I’ve now been doing on the throne for over a week, there were no indications of any progress. So, I started counting the new veins that had come upon the leg. Having worked out that only two new ones had come up and felt for sure at least five had gone down, I was considering going into a Smug-Mode…
Then, the… well, an explosion is the only word to describe it – the evacuated product burst out in some haste, and I could feel the splashes rebounding back up to my bottom and gentleman’s tackle storage area. What a mess the Throne and I ended up in! So, I set to cleaning and freshening things and me up in the wet room. I was caught out, right and proper, by Trotsky Terence’s reappearance after a few days. Humph!
All spick and span again, and feeling a smidgeon proud of how I handled the unfortunate evacuation, I departed the wet room on my way to treat myself to a mug of tea. And clouted my shoulder on the doorframe, setting Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley off jigging all over the place in her effort to dislodge the shoulder bone, I think!
Needless to say, I was a little pee’d off now. I took a painkiller with the tea and rubbed some Phorpain Gel well into Shirley’s shoulder where I could reach. I felt sorry for myself, and I reflected on who was really to blame. Doreen’s Dementia, Nichodemuses Neurotransmitter, Neuropathy Pete, Cataract Kathleen, Glaucoma Gladys, and me! So many options came to mind that I decided all of these were at fault or the causes of my morning’s dilemmas.
I took a snap of the view from the kitchen window. Although it may have been from yesterday now, I think of it. Dementia Doreen is not easy to live with.
I got on the computer to finalise and post the local News Snippets blog. I pressed on regardless, and I lost a lot of time changing the central Ode. Why? I forget why I thought it was a good idea. The original and one I ended posting were both crap, anyway! But then, I’m good at crap. Consistently, I reliably churn it out.
I went to make another brew, determined to get this one drunk! The red sky reminded me of the old saying, “Red Sky at Night, Shepherds delight!” By the time I’d taken the pictures, the red sky had gone.
When I checked the photos on the camera, I was not impressed at all. But of course, with Cataract Kathleen, Glaucoma Gladys and Saccades Sandra lingering, what would I know. Hehehe!
Ah, when I got these on later, they looked so different in the Preview window than on this editor that I’m using.
♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chimed out, and in came two carers. They were not listening types; both were supervisory. It is my fault for talking to them when they sorted out the paperwork. I must stop doing that!
I went into the balcony, opened the end window, and took this shot of the Chestnut Way end car park… Trapping my finger in the spring lock as I close the window afterwards. Tsk!
I’d anticipated Richard coming today. My grasp on actuality had gone away. One of them had returned to the fold, and I was ready to listen to my tale of the potato husks that I’d left in the oven for eight hours overnight. I’d kept them to show to Richard, but they got a laugh out these gals when I showed them to them. Haha!
I got on with the updating and posted it to WordPress. Had a while on Facebook Catchup. Then made a start on the first Ode for this one.
Blimus! It was gone midday in no time!
I must get the WP comments to read and answer. Then I read the WordPress Reader new blogs and commented on them.
The Evening Carer will be due soon, Valerie, I hope. I’m going to get my wash and change into the night attire now, TTFNski. The ankles were a bit blotchy again? The INR being high?
A can of the veg chilli-con-carne, baked some chunked potatoes, last of the Milk Roll bread, and a pot of weak watery Morrison’s Honey flavoured yoghourt. I enjoyed it. Taste Rating: 7/10.
Arrived after I’d washed the pots up. Forget the Carer’s name again, nice gal.
I got down to kip, but the notable changes in the evening sky forced me to keep getting up to take photographs of the views. I’ll put them on Friday’s blog; hopefully, the SD reader will be working better then.
Sleep was a long time in coming. But that was my fault for me keeping getting up several times to photograph the changing sky.
Ode To Hope
Every time I think things may improve, I suffer a forfeiture,
For being foolish enough to be a self-deluder?
Of course, existence will just get crappier,
Anyway, if things went right, would I be happier?
Good fortune for me; it would be so unfamiliar…
No doubt it would make me feel guilty and peculiar?
I’d probably go into shock and have a stroke or seizure…
Not to worry, I’ll take my tablets and a gulp of tincture!
Will murderers ever are executed, slain,
Although hanging is looked upon with disdain,
Are all MPs against it? I can’t ascertain…
Convicted to life in prison, they should remain,
In prison, it’s easy for them to get cocaine!
Many have broken out again and again!
The injustice of the legal system drives me insane,
Execution will never return; is it concrete, certain…
Then again, in a few years, although by then inane…
People will realise life on earth we cannot sustain!
Too many people to feed will cause our destruction,
We have to urgently reduce the world’s population,
3 million murders a day, and we lock them away,
Feed them, medicate them… well, this is no way…
I suggest we use the skills of our local electrician,
To electrocute murderers or try decapitation?
Get rid of the scumbags that infest our Nation,
And remove their breeding stick; that’ll do the trick!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Local News Snippets – Part 23⅞ths
We’ll start off with a report on the Covid pox,
I imagine there’ll be more soon on the monkeypox…
Or maybe one on the return of chickenpox?
But first, we’ve Covid yet, outfox,
First, I’ve got to get my head around Firefox,
Then when time, I’ve got Germoloid my buttocks,
While Nottingham scum work out the new car locks,
I must order some new diabetic kneesocks…
Then get through the day full of shocks and shlocks,
I’m waffling again; sorry if I got you in a flummox!
Released on bail, it makes me wail…
So he can get more drugs and ale?
Didn’t know what it was, his conditional bale…
Tell him not to drive? That’s a fairytale…
Not to get drunk, on spirits or impale a female?
He mustn’t run away to Wensleydale?
I’m guessing, him responding to his bale? A dwale!
Blimey, reminds me of my mother. Regretfully!
Yet another one does a runner! Parole boards’ reputation gets murkier! Deterrents for crime get flimsier, Scumballs are getting treated kindlier? Escapees are getting more regular… None-returnees are getting cunninger… And I’m definitely getting portlier! That’s nowt to do with escaper… Who’s a naughty boy and a fibber!
One thought appeals. Best not say!
Despite my total lack of winning anything gambling-wise, for about 62-years now – I anticipate and expect a win of some sort shortly. Surely?
See his sneer? He’s got no fear…
He may well like it up the rear,
Will he settle in the nick? Or disappear?
Things happen, and he may even get leerier?
I’d sooner he dies slowly, contracts malaria,
He can be educated on how to be friendlier…
Be good if another prisoner went for his jugular!