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!
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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!
AILMENTS ODE
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!
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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
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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!
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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!
Learn summat new every day!
Gorrum!
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Proletariats from all around the land, Bless them…
Cheltenham, Birmingham, Nottingham or West Ham,
Wherever; realise that MPs & the law are a sham…
Anytime now, expects riots with a wham!
On his way home from the getting some cows heel and tripe for his Dad. As he was crossing the canal on the bridge on Wilford Street. A gang of teenage Herberts lifted him and unceremoniously threw him off the bridge into the canal! Being about six years of age, scared to death of water, and unable to swim (His fear was life-long, he still can’t). He struggled to grab hold of a barge rope hanging over the side of the boat but lost his grip, he got cold, and his fingers were not big enough to hold on… As he sank into the water, a pair of strong hands from a bloke in a rowing boat dragged him out and took him home. Where his father knocked the hell out of him for losing the tripe and cow heel, pointing out that the 2/6d (12.5p) cost would come out of his pocket money! Which baffled the lad a bit cause he never did get any pocket money from his Dad in his life?
SUNDAY 15th MAY 2022
05:15hrs, I begrudgingly woke and awaited the brain to join me. Which it did, with the message that I needed a wee-wee. I freed my cumbersomely large bellied body from the £300 second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable, unfit-for-use, not working recliner. NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) took me a while due to the vast amount of PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling).
Dizzy Dennis kept going at me all morning long in short bursts. I got the waste bag sorted out and started prepping the veg to go in with Josies Chilli meal. Chopped leeks, carrots and peas.
Opened the can of Chilli and started adding the cooked vegetables. Put them in the saucepan and add squid vinegar (liquid salt), chilli powder, Worcester sauce, and malt vinegar. After testing the flavour, I can add gravy salts and tomato puree with basil.
Herbert is noisy again. Bloody Sundays and weekends, he’s always the same!
I visited the Porcelain Throne. A good job that the carer was so late because I must have been in the half-an-hour at least. Most of the time was spent cleaning and clearing up. Trotsky Terence was in charge again. You wouldn’t believe the amount of loo roll used! Tsk!
Got a good wash and showering done, I felt a bit better then. Coming out of the wet room, I got through the door, and by the fairer without a knock, shoulder slamming or toe stubbing.
A new carer came in without ringing the buzzer-chime, and of course, I didn’t hear her coming. Sarah, she’s not been before. Nice gal, but she didn’t take the waste bag with her, no problem. I can do that later with the next one to go. No problemo! Well, as long as Vascular Dementia Doreen lets me remember. Hehehe!
The photos went on through the card reader!!!! So I got the old ones on. Yesterday one here first. The state of the ankles as I came out from the shower yesterday. Not painful nor itchy, although they did later.
These on the right are what they looked like after this morning’s session at ablutioning. Not any different, really. Or are they, and Cataract Kathleen has missed something?
A morning photographicalisation from the kitchenette next. The bright sunshine on my face made it impossible to take a good one.
My evening, well, was the only meal of the day. Potato slices baked, tomatoes, crap tasting sugar snap peas. And gorgeous mushroom pate on a couple of baps. Taste Rating: 8.8/10!
These two were taken with a sort of foggy haze in the air. After seeing them, I thought they had a kind of gentle quality to them. That’s not what I mean, but as close to what I can explain. Peaceful, tranquil, they made me feel free from strife… of course, that didn’t last for long. But a good sensation while it lasted… I’m now awaiting the arrival of the next Whoopsiedangleplop. I pressed on with updating and posting the Saturday bog to WordPress. The Facebooking, WP Reader, and some WP comments are to read and reply to.
Herbert’s cacophony of banging, clanging and grinding noises continues.
A wee-wee, and back to the photos. I took this shot from the balcony. RVD (Red-Van-Man) is back, but the small red car has taken up his beloved parking spot on the yellow no-parking lines. Hahaha!
Time to start checking on and serving up Josie’s nosh now. On my way to the kitchen, ♫Oh, Susan♫ chimed out from the doorbell? Josie came to tell me that she was going out to a restaurant with her sister and didn’t need the meal! Well, blow me, fancy letting me know half an hour before I deliver the meal! But let’s face it, it’s much better than five minutes. Hehehe!
She said she could collect it tonight on her way home. So, I said I’ll put it in a big jar to let it cool, then you can place the container into your fridge; that’ll be two chillies to use later on. Josie added, “She’s (Her sister) has only just called me to let me know”.
Herbert just dropped something this time; it sounded heavy. I gave him a gentle tap on the piping with my walking stick. Not that it will do anything to help me get some peace. He is the most equanimous, unforthcoming, stand-offish person I’ve ever met. Superior Shithouse!
“Clunk, thud, ratattattatat!” That serves me right for getting annoyed. Then I kept getting scratching-like and knocking noises. I’m so sorry, Sir Herbert!
Two chilli meals in the container and some treats for Josie when she gets back from the meal with her Sister at the restaurant. I’ll get mine (meal) started now, then see if owt is on the TV cause the computer problems are driving me mad! (Of course, there are many other reasons, Haha!)
I put the potatoes and vegetarian burger in the oven, peas in the pan, chopped some mini tomatoes and got the TV on for half an hour while the burger and spuds baked. And put the TV on. To find the Ladies Cup Final was showing, and I got deeply into it, so interested that I forgot all about the cooking!
I fumbled out of the £300 second-hand, decrepit, c1968 recliner, got Walter the Wooden Walking Stick, and into the kitchenette. I nervously opened the oven door… The ‘bake for 30 minutes’ food had been in for nearly an hour!
The breadcrumbed veggie burger did not look appealing at all. It felt very hard. As expected, the potatoes were overdone; some of them, the smaller ones, were inedible and had to be thrown. Yet I ate all of it! Enjoyed it too! The burgers left in the fridge will get overcooked; it was firm and delicious! The spuds were tough to eat, and no doubt damaged a few of my remaining teeth, but it all tasted grand! Flavour Rating: 8/10! I hope Duodenal Donald and Harold’s Haemmorhoids can cope with it, and I get no toothache! Hahaha!
Cara Sara arrived, again not ringing the chime and giving me a shock when she entered the room. But a lovely surprise, she is tall, young, beautiful and charming. (Dang to old age! Har-har!)
Sweet Morpheus was again resistant to my requests for shut-eye! But, when he permitted me to nod off, I slept through without any jolting awakes for just under six hours! Great!
Friends Comments when I got shot (First-Time)
“Oh, yer?” An old schoolmate by the name of Elgin, “Could ‘ave been anyone!” fellow security officer Kathryn, “Tell me another!” My neighbour in Sherwood, Glyn, “Shit!” I forget his name, Welsh lad from Abergynolwyn, “Serves yer right!” The supervisor at control called Kelvin, “Why?” An old passion of mine, a big gal named Roslyn, “I wunt du yoor job!” Traffic Warden, called Edwin, “Tommy rot, yer tit!” Richard, but we called him Dick Turpin, “Will yer be off work?” Manager, we all called him Fagin! From the hospital, they sent me back to the site again… “Can yer drive yersen there, course you can!”… Fagin! “You can’t claim off of us!” Site manager, on arriving…
Approached creating this ode quite guiltily… My ideas for it were whimsical, bonkers, delusionary… I pressed on all the same, but involuntarily… For Alto-Inchy was taking the piss at me, If it comes out passable, I’ll have to be lucky… So, I hope to avoid getting any vilipendency! Will it get boos? Or be received gladly? Here I go… I’ll have to wait and see…
Last night’s Porcelain Throne visit showed sanguinolency, I had to clean things quickly, with no time to dilly-dally. Cleaned, medicated the fungal lesion, piles, cuts, that’s three… Pain, medicating the lesion send me cranky, And Harold’s Haemorrhoids too, it took me a while, Good job that I’ve got many a mans-nappie!
It’s Alto Inchie writing this verse; Inchcock did insist!
But, things got nasty for Inchy, the lyricist…
Stubbed his toe and started to update his word list…
He spent many hours on it, needed a wee, but had to desist…
Went to hit the save icon, and I missed…
Lost the file, and he sank to his saddest…
He almost cried; it must have been hard to resist…
Then he sank further and got depressed!
I lost six hours trying to get back my lost writing… Couldn’t find it; I was confused, lost and dithering, My previous determination started withering… Duodenal Donald kicked off; it was appalling, The whole incident was depressing and galling! I believe that I was so low, beyond consoling… I wondered, what’s the next thing that’ll need bungling?
Alto Again: It was sad to see Inchy being nigglier,
His computer works are getting much messier…
He didn’t look well. He seemed to me pastier…
The outlook for him to finish this ode is murkier,
And even he’s not usually a shirker, but a worker…
I can see in his eyes that he’s getting lower…
No point in talking to him until he feels betterer,
Hello, his door chimes rang out, in came a Carer…
He turned sourly around to see who it was, looking peakier,
His face lit up, his smile radiated, for it was Carer Sarah!
I could tell that he’d immediately got feeling friskier!
It was Carer Sarah who came to do me today, This cheered me up, I have to say… I lost all signs of acting acidulously… Lovely gal, pretty and chatty, I began to feel once again, altruistically, I hope she comes again on Sunday!
Alto: Inchie knackered his computer and got in a shaking panic,
The idiot’s actions and bungled repairs were catastrophic,
He had trouble concentrating and was mnemic…
His moods all day were somewhat chameleonic.
Inchcock’s plans and thoughts were all semantic…
Yet he seemed to be taking it all phlegmatic…
In fact, he ended up feeling somewhat apathetic?
Then he found his legs had gone all phlebitic!
This is why some folks, quite rightly, consider him pilgarlic!.
Diary Saturday 14th May 2022
05:00hrs: I woke up with my bum half off of the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner. The right leg on the floor, the left one on the arm of the recliner? A position that I could not physically get into on my own, even if someone offered me a million pounds to do it? Painfully I got my bum back up on the cushion, then tackled the left leg retrieval task! Have you seen that programme on the telly Truck Hell, where they have to retrieve HGVs after a crash? That’s like the task I had on.
I got it freed and the foot down on terra firma. Hehehe! It took me half an hour to achieve it.
Then, I noticed the right leg only had suffered a vein explosion. The first photo is of the front of the leg. I had a good look at it. There were no pains from the veins. Then I wondered about the back of the right leg. Got the Canon camera again and took a blind picture.
Aha, more veins showing through? On a closer look at the photograph, later on, it looked to me that last time, the surgeon who did them had left his name tattooed on the leg? Hehe! I’ll put this one on more prominent than usual to see what you think. It’s on the top right of the picture. Wonder what it is?
Ah, well, better get up; the Carer may be calling soon… and…
As I stood up to catch my balance, I knocked the camera off of the ottoman. I went into the bathroom to ready things for the ablutioning later on, and took this snap of the new marks on the face, this time! Then tried to take another snapshot of the morning view, but the camera didn’t have it. Sob!
It seemed to take the photo, but nothing was getting put on the SD card to view, other than this one and the legs? Miffed off, now! Another blog without many pictures, Humph!
I made up some waste bags, mashed a brew and got on the computer. And the morning carer appeared without ringing the buzzer and made me jump. Haha! Carer Sara was a pretty young thing, and she was sociable. ♥
On with the blog. I finished the update two hours later and posted it on Facebook. Went on Facebooking. Then the WP Reader, and comment reading and replying to.
The usual for the weekend. An increase in Herbert’s noise level. On and off all day, at times, I thought he must have hurt himself with the clanging and banging. At times, I could hurt him myself!
Got on with the Ode template for Saturday’s blog. But a disaster befell me…
I used two pages of saved words on Notepad and got on with selected suitable or better options. And the Peripheral Pete’s Neurotransmitters failed, as Shuddering Shoulder Shirley kicked in simultaneously. There was controlling my movements at all.
The arm shot across the keyboard with the left clicker pressed firmly down, hitting various keys as it went to my left, knocked the SD reader flying as the connector broke off, and it was all over in seconds, but it did a lot of damage, and worst of all, I lost all my words in the two files!
I then spent the following hours of the day trying to understand what the warning messages that came up meant and trying everything within my limited knowledge to find the missing files. No such luck! Photos not going on again.
Made a large meal and ate it all. Wee-wee. Carer Valerie called. Head down, but foolishly tried to watch a Dirty Harry film on the box… I did, in a way, but in about 25 episodes, I watched one each time I woke up and nodded off again!
‘Tis not just the ending of civility and decency… Nor the gallantry, gentleness and long gone chivalry, That annoys and really seems to get to me, Why bother, you said; you’ll soon be just history…
Good question! My reading of mankind’s history… To me, human actions past and now… are a mystery! Not that I believe all I read, certainly! Nothing in the annuls is a certainty!
Human tellurians all lie and cheat to gain a better destiny… Mostly to gain power, be the top dog, with greed for money, Wanting to put nowt into the pie…but enjoying the honey, Smiling at the opportunity for profit via anything phoney!
They’ll pretend to be doing their helpful duty, But we know that it’s all on the QT… But knowing we also fail in our duty… Some even think that life is game and cutsie!
No rent to pay, they steal from their old Auntie, The wine and dine while she has chip buttie… The gals go the lads and the lads for tottie… I think I’m losing the point of this dittie?
You do that when you’ve got Doreen Dementia, a pity… Yet still, I try to create summat funny and witty… Well, not often, but I still have the edacity… If even a swell, the blooming audacity!
Recalling what I going to write is beyond doability! My memory pad notes show indecipherability… My nerve ends sends the brain messages… insufficiently, They get orders back and jerk, jump obediently…
The right leg and arm flail, I may fall, it’s all a farcicality, Gone on for ages now, so I have a familiarity… It all affects my confidence and fatiguability… The Doctors say any treatment is beyond feasibility!
Then there are other ailments, mental and rheumaticky, They can be as risky, painful and tricky… Like the fungal lesion bleeding on my dickie! But, I must not moan and be nitpicky… I just hope you find this ode a little bit witty!
Thursday 12th May 2022
Nocturnally, I shared the night with Colin Cramps again. His favourite targets were the right leg, left hand, right shoulder and side of the neck.
I lay a while, wondering if I could get back to sleep… but the need for a wee-wee arose, and I disentangled by my mastodonic-sized, wobbly epigastrium and torso’d body from the recliner.
As I was doing the balance exercises, I plopped backwards and ended up in the recliner again. I instantly felt the warm wet sensation from Little Inchies Fungal Lesions! Oh, Clump!
Grabbed metal Mickey and off to the wet room. Bit of a mess made of things, and the pain was pretty bad; cleaning things up and medicating them. On the bright side, (there always is one, you just have to find it, Hehe!). However, Harold’s Haemorrhoids were not bleeding from the fall. Had a wee-wee.
I washed and went to the kitchenette to make a tea brew but forgot to take it with me to the computer, which I found later. Tsk!
I booted the machine up and thought I’d try to get the photos on from yesterday. And after setting up today’s template, I tried my luck. At first, there was no usual response from the SD reader or computer. I spent a while swapping and moving the card in hope… then remembered the mug of Glengettie I’d left in the kitchen. Made another mugful.
Back to the computer, but the tea still did not get drunk. To my surprise, the card was recognised. So I got them in ASAP before the computer changed its mind.
I was nervously on tenterhooks all the time, trying to rush but not dislodge the card and get each photo onto CorelDraw to touch up. (I don’t so much of that nowadays, you know, touching up. Hehehe! This on the right is a photo of the Spirit vinegar delivered yesterday.
Sphygmomanometerisationing results in Blood Pressure. SYS 149. DIA 72, and the pulse was at 79bpm. Which looked fair enough to me.
The Chinese (Hong Kong) is made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, gave as good a reading as ever, at 34.8°c, another bit of good fortune there!
Later on last night, I had to get up from the recliner, rather grumpily (Yes, me grumpy, hard to believe, I know!) to get some more Phorpain gel to rub in the cramp ridden hands and legs.
I was glad that I did now. The ever later sunset was bootiful! What a hue!
Young Richard, the carer, arrived. He didn’t look too good. So I plied him with some of his favourite goodies. In a rush to get home, and I can’t blame him. Not sure if he’s due tomorrow or not. I think so.
A picture here from yesterday; I think so, anyway.
My favourite puffer clouds were out on display. I couldn’t see any figures or faces in them like we did yesterday, mind you.
An hour or two of doing the Ode for yesterday’s blog, the gurgling from within advised me to make my way to the Porcelain Throne. Which I did! I reckon the Trotsky Terence is about to take control in the rear-end evacuation department.
Pressed on with the blogging again, it’s taking all my time, but I like it! As Dick Emery used to say.
After the rain stopped, I nipped out on the balcony to take a photo of the end of the Chestnut Way car parking antics. The roadway on the corner at the end of the tower block was in a state! Mud had torrented down from Woodthorpe Grange Park and made a right mess for the poor old drivers to get through to get to their cars. Although the Red-Van-Man was okay, being parked on the yellow no parking chevrons, as usual.
.The right hand did a little finger manipulating on its own accord again this morning.
I go so far with the blog and am in a quandary about getting the ablutions done. I’ll explain; I think the Wilko order is due today. Deana might come with a Council lady with the spare key. So, if I go into the wet room, I’ll not hear the door chime. Even if I did, would I get to the door in time? I suppose this means I’ll have to stay dirty? Then be forced to stay up late to get the job done, then?
Still, he can’t get a signal to Nottingham to work!
Came good and early. Soon got me sorted. I did drop a beta-blocker… no, a Codeine when taking the medications, but I was lucky enough to spot it on the carpet. She took the waste bag with her on departing. I fang you!
Resigned to no internet availability from Fries again.
Got a nosh sorted out. Fishcakes with peas in them, potato lumps. Two mini cakes and a horrible lemon cheesecake. Taste: 6.5/10.
Went to do the washing up and tool this snap from the kitchen window. It looks like a microscope view of some bacteria. Hehe! Not one of my better efforts.
I phoned Jenny and Jillie for a natter about nothing. For once, Sweet Morpheus let me join him in slumber a little sooner than usual tonight. And only a few waking ups!
Whoever thought that we would end up batty? Or slowly, our body will end up so fatty? And for Sunday dinner, have a bacon buttie? Alone, we sit here, not too far from the portapotty… Fighting off the Thought Storms, recalcitrantly!
See a youngster injure, and enjoy our epicaricacy! Getting depressed as we realise life’s now an atrocity! Stuck in a three-roomed flat, full of self ethnocentricity! Wondering how you’re to pay for this month’s electricity! Can we blame it on Dementia or our quaint eccentricity?
Of course, misery holds no exclusivity, We won’t recognise our own depravity… Yet recall a time when we had debauchery… Whatever anyone says, we reply with dubiosity!
No fight left; what happened to our audacity? Now incapable of shoeing any voracity… And how we drank and ate: It was pure gluttony, Happy now, with two biscuits for a meal, no edacity… And, how come the peeing has lost all its velocity?
My adiposity, obesity, and rotundity, cause animosity! You try in the morning to be gritty… the day ends up shitty! Give folks a good morning, trying to be neighbourly… In return, you get dagger eyes with venom and toxicity! Still, it’ll happen; make the best of it… although it’s a pity!
DIARY OF WOE – FRIDAY
On around the eighth time of jumping awake, and sleep was only for four hours, the annoying tingling from the bladder forced me up and out of the c1968 recliner and over to the grey overnight bucket for a wee-wee. I don’t know why I bothered; I think I’ve got another infection in the waterworks, it took ages to evacuate, and then it was painful and barely a trickle!
I opted to get a stand-up wash at the sink, teggies, and shaving sorted. There was a degree of forcing myself, for a very rare urge to get my head down again had to be fought off!
Not an easy struggle, but I won it with a bit of help from stubbing my toe against the electric stand-up airer’s leg… again! I often wonder if there is a built-in foot attractor in the pipes?
I made a start on the graphic for the Crowell Manor blog. And, along came Carer Richard arrived. And after giving me the medications, he set about checking all the dates on the foods in the fridge. I think it was eight out-of-date items. Humph! Good on him! He will review the cupboards next Thursday when he returns from his holiday.
(I started this blog, but not until Saturday, so no memories to use) Many of my notes for this blog became unreadable due to my stupidity in a rush to record them. Squiggles are too small to read! I’ll skip any that I’m unsure about and just copy those I can understand, so it may be a short double-diary from here on in for both Friday and Saturday… Sorry.
Shit comes to mind as a suitable explanatory word of how I felt! Got some photo’s uploaded on the first try! YES! I thought it might have cured itself, but it was back to hit and miss, with many more misses than hits to the later ones! It got even worse later on…
Liberty-Global and Virgin Media went down several times. It was highly annoying and frustrating. But did I let it get to me? Yes, I did!
Crap Service, crap lying company, and it should be… never mind!
15:10hrs, I got the blog finished and posted off.
INR DVT nurse came.No, honestly! I think I may be in love here again… Hahaha! I should imagine that my being 62 years older than she is, a good foot shorter, I’m carrying a few stones more than I should – and wobbly at that, having Vascular Dementia, being deaf partially and blind, my hopes are not exactly optimistic. But somewhere in the ether lingers the tiniest bit of hope..!
Apparently, Liberty-Global Virgin Media went down three times in an hour! I read more on my memory pad cause I was so angry, I pressed on the pen harder!
CRAP!
I was struggling to get the photos onto CorelDraw, and while trying to sort it out, Neuropathy Pete kicked off, and Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters sent the right arm and leg all over the place. I ended up with an entirely changed screen layout and four different messages on screen that I had no idea what they meant! I could not access the controls! I was buggered! So, I stopped, turned everything off in the proper order, and prayed that the screen would come back right when I rebooted.
Couldn’t get any photos to load at all!
DIARY OF WOE – SATURDAY
HERE WE GO… TRY AGAIN
Up until the early morning hours, trying to get the photos on the system, no luck, so I got my head down. Bursting awake at 06:30hrs, after four hours of kip. Panicked a little, in case I had not heard the Carer coming; they sometimes call at 06:00hrs… then realised that if they had been, I would have heard the loud ♫Oh Susana♫ tune, even if I was sleep… or would I?
I was a bit of a mental wreck, worried about not being able to get the photos on the blog… had I missed the Carer, though? Wee-wee, a mug of Glengettie, and sorted through the potatoes to salvage any that could be able to be ‘desprouted’ enough to use. Not many passed the test, but enough for tonight’s meal. Hehe!
I took a few photos during the day, but I failed on all three tries to get them onto the computer. Things are looking bleak!
The evacuated product was a little on the firm side. Constipation Konrad taking control, I bet the next visit will either be a rock-solid, bloody, painful affair. Or, of course, it could catch me out with a reversal and be a smelly, semi-liquid, messy outcome. Tsk! This is one of one’s little pleasures in older life, not knowing what to expect!
Carer arrived. Carol was a sweetheart and always ready for a laugh and natter, even when, like today and she was busy. ♥ I did the Health Checks. Later, Carer Valerie came with some things she said had been found in the washing machine, only dish clothes, but none were mine. I’ll mention it to her when she calls again; nice of her to bring them anyway.
I got the Crowell Manor Laboratory blog finished and sent off to WordPress. Then started this one, hoping that the belated photos might get on the computer Sunday for another rescued photographs blog. Hahaha!
I seemed to get further and further behind with everything today. I did get Facebooking, WP comments replied to… all to the accompaniment of Herberts clunk-clunking, noises like dropped stuff, and an occasional tap-tap-thud.
.Mind-blanks, dizzies and no rest, as I kept on trying to get the blogging done. (I finished this one Sunday morning at about 11:00hrs. I needed to concentrate on getting Josie’s meal prepared and served up by then. So as I speak (well, type), 13:50hrs, the blog has still not been posted.) There’s no time to go one WordPress Reader; I’ll have to find time somehow on Sunday.
Worra Life, Innit?
As one ages; faculties fail… and you feel like a misfit, You can’t get out, remember owt, or get credit… Sex is barely a memory… and that’s dying. Dagnabbit! These are things you’ll live with, cohabit…
A teddy bear, embarrassment at your fleapit… Ailments galore, memories of once being fit, Summat else, bleeding when you go for a shit Names, using, thingamabob & whatchamacallit,
Your once handsome features, now so decrepit, Putting up with name-calling, like a half-wit, & nitwit, Desires dying, loins failing, I can’t be any more explicit, The advantages of Brexit… all a load of bullshit!
