A Little Chunter from Inchcock. In bad, nae, terrible rhyme!

1Mon05.jpg

A Little Chunter from Inchcock

In bad, nae, terrible rhyme!

It’s the day of the criminal, there is no more law,

Empathy, understanding have become just folklore,

I don’t see Police officers in Nottingham, anymore,

 Pavement Cyclists, beggars and shoplifters galore,

Street sleepers, who survive with skills of a detrivore,

Druggies, alcoholics, muggers, both old and mature,

While families dine, smoke cigars and drink their liquor,

All the time, making the poor, feel even sicker!

Disabled with Fit for Work Assessments, have to fight and bicker,

A blind chap got told he can work on a cherry-picker!

Jobseekers told to do psychometric tests, Glory Be!

But if you’re lucky, you’ll live to retire just like me,

But it isn’t what you thought, no rest and freedom, see,

Heart attack, Duodenal Ulcer, and I live on the twelfth-floor,

Peripheral Neuralgia, then a stroke and Arthritis, core!

What next I thought, and the lock broke on the door,

It was mended within three weeks, no need to be sore,

My hot water system went down, so I called help once more,

After nine days of being lied to, ‘We are coming today for sure,

Staying in and awake eight-until-ten, no chance of a bedsore!

But they mended it! It leaked, my clothes wet, the water did pour!

I slipped on the liquid, ending up injured on the floor,

Luckily, the stroke nurse called, so help came to the fore,

Depression and self-hating I began to explore,

I complained at the lack of help, this just caused a furore!

Now the haemorrhoids have returned, bloody and sore!

 

I fank You!

Inchcockski Today – Sat 3 August 2019: A communicationless day, ending badly. Humph! TTFNski.

2019 Aug 03

2019 Aug 03

Saturday 3rd August 2019

Scots Gaelic: Disathairne 3 Lùnastal 2019

23:30hrs; I woke in need of a wee-wee. The general performance in getting out of the £300, c1968, mind-blowingly crude beige-coloured, rickety recliner, was more comfortable than it has been for months. The ailments must have still been asleep! Haha! So good and pain-free was I, that I didn’t use the stick to get to the grey plastic wee-wee bucket at all!

WD 0.0.150 However, unfortunately, the passing was of the UWBUS (Ultra-Weak-But-Uncontrollable-Sprinkly) version. I think I prefer the power-blast type, at least I know when things are finished. Hence, the first job was to clean and sanitise the bucket and me and change my PP’s. (Disesteem-Mode-Engaged!)

It felt very nippy this morning. The new unwanted kitchen windows were steamed up inside and moist on the outside? I put the dressing gown on.

I moved the hanging handwashing to the stand-up airer.

WD 0.0.150 Then the need for another wee-wee arrived. Aha, I was cunning. I decided to use the sit-upon Throne this time. But things were not the same as the last wee-wee. (I should be so lucky!) This was an ELPSOA (Extra-Long-Powerful-Spraying-Out-Allover) wee-wee. The blast-back soaked things that should not have been soaked! I had to clean up the floor, cabinets, sink and myself! Such was the force of the spraying! How things can change like this, is beyond my understanding? Bending down did me no good, and started Anne Gyna off. Galumph! But, it did make me aware that the stomach had bloated a lot overnight, and had gained a few extra marks. There appear to be some new spots taking hold as well. At the bottom of the heart op scars. It could have been how I was laying in the gungy rusty-recliner, perhaps?

1Mon02

5Sat01I retrieved the hemadynamometer from the medical drawer and failed three times to get the machine to operate. Got it to go on the fourth attempt, though, and with fair results again too. Sia 142, Dia 72, Pulse 86.

However, the body temperature was still very low, I thought, at 34°c. I must mention this on Monday when I go to the surgery for the annual CHD test, the extra CBC and the Lipid assessment test. A Shame that Lipid can’t be quoted in an acronym form, I could have made a hat-trick there! Hahaha! 

That got me thinking, where the term hat-trick came from. So I looked it up on Google: The term originated in cricket during 1879, where it refers to three wickets taken by a bowler in three consecutive balls, traditionally rewarded with the presentation of a hat. No charge for this information! Financial Donations gladly accepted, though. Hehehe!

I made a start on the updating of the Friday post. It was a long slog, with the finger ends playing up and not recording anything they touched to the brain! Then…

Vir s 0.0.150

IMG_1212WD 0.0.150 Making progress decelerated even more! The damned operation of updating and getting it posted off to WordPress, took me over five hours! It was daylight by the time I’d completed it! Misty in the distance mind.

Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet then decided it would start to die occasionally on me! Progress fluctuated between a dead stop, and frustratingly sluggish! Ah, it’s weekend again! See how clever I was to spot that? Sad really!

I tried doing a defrag on Norton, they now call it a clean-up apparently. It performed this in about three seconds? Then I tried uploading another photo on WordPress. But no luck, it wouldn’t/didn’t have it. Oh, Globstagglefunk!

WD 0.0.150 I looked up how to do a defrag. Chose all three drive options, including the massive old external Passport drive I use, and it started defragging. The first two drives took all of three seconds to do. The Passport cleaning was about ten minutes. As I recall from years ago, the defragging took ages and yonks?

I tried uploading the photo again. It took it but struggled, and it cost about five minutes to go on.

Hello, the Porcelain Throne beckons. Back in a bit…

WD 0.0.150 Well, that was different, in the extreme! The first shock that tool some comprehending was the lack of pain. Then the softness. Then the flow stopping with what was obviously a lot more to come yet? I expect to be trotting back to the Throne again soon.

WD 0.0.150 Washing my hands after the evacuation of sorts, and the right arm had a mini-session of directing an orchestra! It was over within 30 seconds and back to normal as it can be. But I still had to dry the floor and my torso and legs of the splashed water from the sink. Ah, well!

I was doing alright, really. With the computer, Virgin Media Internet, no one to socialise with, the leg and arm playing up, and the Throne changes; I feel I’m doing satisfactorily in the megrims and endogenous depression departments. I hope the computer problems don’t get too much and beyond me, that would do me no good!

 I was doing well with the aberrancies, instabilities, Whoopsiedangleplops, annoyances and vagaries of the day, I thought.

WD 0.0.150 Then, out of the blue, came an alarming weariness and a general, but definite disequilibriumness. A vertiginousness, a wooziness, that took over the body and mind. I don’t mind telling you, it shook me up, coming on so suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye.

6Sat02aI sat still in the chair for ten minutes to recover, but this didn’t work. I assumed lack of food for so long might be part of the cause, and got the fodder cooked prepared and served up. (Bulimia?)

I made the easiest to cook meal that I could. The vegetarian chilli, and heated the last sourdough bread. Another worrying factor to consider, was, is my abstemiousness for food on the wane?

Half-way through the nosh, I had to go to the Porcelain Throne. A failure, though, all wind. Washed and returned to the meal, the, oh, so too big a bowl of, of Soulful pulled jackfruit, smokey BBQ chilli with beans. ‘A scrumptious chunky chilli with chipotle and pumpkin seeds’ – with the black bean sauce and orange tomatoes that I had added to it. Could this be comfort eating?

I finished the, to me, delectable, delicious, dinner. After I’d washed the pots and took the evening medications, I still felt unsteady, weak, and so tired now.

WD 0.0.150 But sleep refused to come. My mind, sort of went into a lull, pause, or respite mode. I put on the TV, but didn’t even watch it properly, it was just company of sorts, while the mind stewed in turmoil, and the stomach stung, and Anne Gyna stabbed away at me.

6Sat03aI gave up on sleeping. I’ve no idea why, but I got up and went to the balcony, and took a shot of the evening sky through the windows.

The odd tap-tapping noise started again. It might have been pipework perhaps?

Off I trudged to the Porcelain Throne once more. Aha! Movement. Sloppy and messy, a little bleeding, and not a lot of evacuated material this time.

A good wash then did the teggies, and back to the second-hand, £300, c1968, horrendous beige-coloured, tatty, rickety recliner, determined to get some sleep.

Huh! I lay there for over an hour or so before the blessed kip arrived. But during this time, the tummy and Anne Gyna both calmed down.

Zzzz!

Why Inchcock’s Confidence is at an all-time low. An Ode, laugh and a truth”

1Mon06

Thoughts that Inchcock considers as vital information to pass-on to the younger generation, in a bid to help them decide when to top themselves.

Knowing what is coming to them in old age.

Here starteth the THOUGHTS of WOE

My confidence is at an all-time low,
Things I need, disappear, memories don’t flow,
What’s right, wrong or real, where to go,
Sometimes frustrated, I’ve a wee-wee overflow,
I can’t play an instrument, trumpet or piano!

I fall asleep anytime, anywhere, stunts my workflow,
A bag-of-nerves, no confidence, I’m going loco,
Will I ever regain my sanity? I just don’t know,
Losing my mobility capabilities is a severe blow!

Just some of the programmes I miss watching, though,
Red Dwarf, The A-Team, Heartbeat, Boon & Columbo,
All on Freeview now, but I can’t watch them though,
I can’t stay awake long enough to watch a TV show!

I eat foods from Idaho, Sesotho, Mexico, Morocco,
Montenegro, and Puerto Rico, as my stomach, does grow!
I can’t see my feet when stood up, you know!
Lost Faith in Muslim, Christianity, Gnosticism & Shinto!
In Tellurians, politicians, banks, and Boll-Weevils, too!

Getting up in a morning is a pitiful, painful fiasco,
As are bending, stretching and lifting things is also,
But the mental side, the brain burst into a crescendo,
But no ideas, aims, plans, designs or manifesto,
Always, I use the feeble excuse, “I’ll get it done tomorrow!”

In depression, moroseness I will often wallow,
Meekly go along with others, revealing no bravado,
The only solution is a brain transplant to undergo,
Then I can take lessons, in Judo and Aikido,
Become a Champion, a success, make lots of dough!

Go on TV with Richard Attenborough,
Defeat my enemies, crush my foe!
Become admired, a local hero!
Get a job in Santa’s Grotto!
Or should I just get blotto?

Just a few of the daily ailments below that you can expect.

I didn’t put the Kidney stones, blood poisoning or Mental Decay on the list for fear of making it sound a tad too bleak for the ankle-snappers!

1Mon07

Inchcocks Thoughts & Views on this Sunday Morning: In sort of rhyme…

7Sun03

Also written in the hopes of sum clever psycologikal doctor mite be able to help Inchcock in his fite for sanitty, edukasion and luv. FanK you.

The morning sky was coloured a soft dark blue hue!

Will someone want to speak to me today, but who?

I could do with a chinwag or gossip, one’s overdue!

What are other folks out there today, got to do?

Will they wake up all mixed-up and confused too?

Will I keep my sanity, bladder control, empathy and virtue?

Will today be peaceful, or full of blunders and hullabaloo?

Will I get to clean the wetroom, of Weevils and mildew!

Will I be able to think clearly today, or will I misconstrue?

Will I have Faux Pas, Whoopsidangleplops, make a Boo-boo?

Fall-over, dizzy-spells, fall asleep, bleed… I have a deja vu…

But I’ll stay cheerful, well, I’ll do my bestest to try too!

If fit enough, have a game of squash, bungee-jump or kung fu!

Phone Mrs May, or my Vow of Celibacy, I could renew?

In the above two lines, I’m afraid that I fibbed to you!

I hope anyone reading this, has a better day, I really do!

The £300 second-hand recliner, needs oiling, too!

My nocturnal-nibbles cut down on, nothing to suck-on or chew!

My fungal lesion’s swollen, tender, bleeding and gone blue!

Just another lonely Sunday for me to get through!

Ah, I know what I can do…

No, I don’t… Yes, I do, I’m going to…

I’ll sing a song… but that will upset the neighbours too!

Well, they already rightly think that I’m a little cuckoo!

But that’s a fair assessment and point of view!

Oh, dearie me, I’ll have to discontinue!

Must hobble-off now for yet another poo-poo!

Inchcock’s Thoughts of the Week in Rhyme

1Mon01a

1Mon01b

AA01a

The ironclad-min-biting beetles, I’ve had to avoid,

They’re quick, and refuse to be destroyed,

Nowhere left that I’d not disinfected and scoured,

They move faster than flipping Concord!

6Sat04

Failed efforts to conker them, left me losing my sanfroid,

Fly spray, bleach and boiling water utilised and deployed,

The result? Next day, an even bigger-beetle hoard!

I ordered from Amazon, beetle-killing pads, effective I was assured,

When the van arrived it had none on board!

7Sun16

Soon I was hindered, and very annoyed,

Liberty Virgin Global, left my life in a void,

The internet connection was again destroyed.

7Sun06c

Curses and oaths emanated from my thyroid,

So often, I was frustratingly forced to be internet underemployed!

I wished I had in my prescriptions, something made from Opioid!


1Mon02

Inchcock Today – Tuesday 6th February 2018

Tuesday 6th February 2018

Samoan: Aso Lua 6 Fepuari 2018

0230hrs: Woke with the brain in a right fertummelt. Whatever it was that I’d been dreaming of, I sensed it contained frustrations and past failures within the theme. But nothing concrete memory-wise. I spent a good while trying to recall details, without any success.

As I began the process of detaching my lumbering wobbly compact body from the £300 second-hand recliner, I became aware that there were no signs of nocturnal-nibbling. However, there was an empty bottle of flavoured springwater and another with just a drop left in it. I must have had a thirst on last night.

Why had I got a kitchen knife, a pair of new Protection Pants and a full-packet of Bisoprolol Beta-blockers laying neatly-spaced out on the Ottoman? An enigmatical question.

I put the things away and went to make a mug of tea. During which, the innards burst into life, rumbling away. I made my way to the wet room and onto the Porcelain Throne.

A terribly saturnine Porcelain Throne session ensued.

  Leaving a rare-for-me, appetency, desirous of being freed from my ailments. But I soon lost attention on that thought, as I stood up from the throne and stubbed my toe against floor cupboard. No bad language, not even in my mind, just a deferential, submissive, self-effacing, unassertive acceptance of my spiritlessness, inabilities, futilities and liabilities. Huh!

Feeling just a little down now, I carried out the Health Checks.

Made a big mug of tea. I put this jar of black bean sauce next to it, to remind me to ask a question when I got around to putting it on the blog. “How am I supposed to use it with my pork shoulder steaks, which I intend to cook in the Crock-Pot”. Do I cook the meat in the sauce, or part-water and the sauce, or do I prepare the steak, as usual, drain it and then put it in a saucepan cover it with sauce to warm the sauce up? Any help would be appreciated by someone in the know. Might be best if I do it in the oven today, after all. Fank you!

Took the medications and took these photographs of the rain-free morning outside. Looked like a touch of frost was in the air.

Computer started, and this post began, then on to finishing off the Monday effort. This took a coup;e of hours

Went to make another brew, and how the scene outside had changed!

0545hrs: Put some TFZer graphics on my Pinterest pages. Gerald’s Pinterest Pages.

These are they:

WordPress comments replied-to. Visited the WordPress Reader.

0800hrs: Oh, dearie

Off back to the kitchen for another brew,

And blimey what a different view,

So I took these piccies to show to you,

I guess they said, the snow was due,

Through the clouds, the sky was red and blue,

From inside, the view cheered me, that was long overdue!

But going out in it? Too much of a hullabaloo!

Herbert is making a lot of noise this morning. Does he think it is a Sunday and not Monday? Oh, it’s Tuesday innit?

The workers of drilling away on the outside of the building. Can’t be too helpful for them out there in this weather.

0840hrs: I stopped updating this page and went on CorelDraw, to try and catch up with doing the last of the TFZer Transport Fun Graphics. If it will let me, of course. Back in a bit.

1420hrs: Shattered now, got the last of the TFZer series done.

A few of these I am proud of (Smug Mode Adopted).

Got the nosh prepared and served up.

The shoulder pork, I’d done in the oven. Tasted a little bland. So I hope to use the other two pieces done in the crock-pot and seasoned with some Black Bean Sauce. The curried beans were grand, tasty and morish in the extreme!

‘Herbert’ above was I think, working on some heavier modelling than usual. The clunks of whatever it is he keeps dropping sounded louder, more thuddish. This was no bother, as the workers were drilling and banging away outside and one just plodded on, hoping that in eight months or so, this noise (Not Herbert’s of course) will cease. Then I can hire workmen to put right the kitchen floor, holes in the wall, redecorate… I’m getting in a panic again! Haha!

Remembered to do a Wristlet Alarm Battery Check with the Nottingham City Homes team. All good.

Health Checks and medications were sorted.

I put on a DVD of Dr Who, got the headphones on and settled to watch it… two minutes later, disentangled myself from the cables and recliner then off to the Porcelain Throne. I’m getting fed-up with Little Inchies lesion bleeding. Or rather, having to clean up and medicate things down there. Painful and embarrassing job. I must ask the Doctor, (Not Dr Who, Doctor Vindla. Hehe!) if she can rush the appointment with the GUM clinic for me.

Back to the recliner, turned off the goggle-box and lay there for hours. Just fretting over everything and stewing in self-loathing and pity. I Drifted off eventually.

I woke as my bum hit the floor as I had somehow managed to slip out of the £300 second-hand recliner. I lay there back against the recliner, bum on the floor and legs up on the Ottoman. I did feel a right twit! Good job there are no CCTV cameras in the flat! I effected a nifty getting up again session, without too much trouble at all, surprised myself at how well I coped, and without any pain worth mentioning.

Had I been dreaming, a nightmare or what?

As I stood and turned to look for any clues on the chair, I trod on the TV remote control! Hope it still works later.

Confused, but no sooner had I returned my obese, short wobbly body onto the recliner, I drifted off into the land of Nod.

Oddities, mysteries, panics, fears and failures I need not,

But I get them regularly, so that’s my unlucky lot,

It’s no wonder I’m a nervous senile silly old clot!

My Failed Search for Sanity

Why does Inchcock need to find Sanity?

I’ll begin by going back to my tender years

It all started  around 1943,

Just born, Mid-Wife hands me bloodied to Mother, in comiti,

Mother tells the midwife, to throw it in the river, set it free,

I can’t afford it, I’m not a Charity!

Not an auspicious good start that, as  you can see,

Still, she took me, dropped fag ash on my head, and not surprisingly,

I grew up scared and the first few years were hard, combatively,

Owt not locked up or tied down she’s nick, with compulsivity,

The police caught her later, a brave man that local PC!

She was a great con-woman, but they did her. The trial was a calamity!

Fined £9, Dad paid, and she walked, laughing and free,

Tried to sell my Sister to a member of the family,

But years later, she ran away after more crimes, arbitrarily,

Dad and I accepted it with the general familiarity.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Twas not hard to harness the forgettability,

Dad got me up early to make the fire, his breakfast as well,

Then, got me a paper round, morning & night with Mr Bell,

Later, a Saturday job at Heason’s Hardware… pity,

For me, anyway, life seemed like an eviternity,

Rushing from school, on my homebound journey,

But this fed my evolvability,

And to get some pennies for the gas and electricity meter,

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sometimes I’d play-up with tantrums and hostility,

Dad would rearrange the shape, of my posterior vicinity,

His boots were leather, large and offered me lachrymosity, Hehe!

We shared all we had, although it seemed mostly paucity,

I had a new sense of upcoming insecurity,

Somehow I knew, Mother would return with her egocentricity.

The conning conceited ways and her dubiosity,

Sadly, I was right, back came the anguish and incongruity,

Dad accepted her presence, doing his duty, showing endurability!

 _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

She nicked conned and ran-away several more times, fatuity,

I’d like to mention Dad, this brave, honest loyal entity,

After so many years, I feel felicity,

And it is all thanks to him, his lack of hostility,

His patience and fungibility,

Love, care, and indefatigability,

I’ll see you soon, Dad…

Hopefully for infinity,

Then I can find my sanity

Forgive me, please.