Political Cartoon

Inchie: Sunday 28th September 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Inchy felt below par in mind & body, the fool has put the wrong Ode Intro graphic title on here. This is nothing unique; the plonker has done this before. But at least he got the colour of the lettering nearly right. He expects retribution to be exacted, as it was last night. Yes, from Thought-Storming-Steve. Serves the uninhibited twit right! He’s sorry!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Ah, the wind is blowing, as I try to get the car going…
Twas my old three-wheeled Reliant Robin,
She was aged when I bought her. She keeps stopping,
I thought it was the fuel filter, cause when I got her going,
The engine & plastic body were shuddering and shaking,
She stopped again, near a garage, so I pulled in…
Asked if I could give the RAC a ring…
Two hours later, I saw the RAC man arriving, 
Walked down to the roadway to greet him; it was raining, 
Both of us soaked, I asked the man who was serving…
If he minded if we used his WC to get dried in,
Which we did, a sociable man, we were joking…
As we left, we saw his motorbike & sidecar had been stolen,
No brooding or moaning; well, a little cursing,
I gave him a lift in my rain-soaked, now-working Robin,
To the RAC base, next to the pub, The Farmers Bobbin,
Then on to work, the rain was still coming…
I got to work late after all the kerfuffling,
What happened took some chymifying…
I told the boss what happened, but I was laughing…
I got the sack, he thought I was lying!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
More True Tales of Woe to follow,
That is, if the BP does not stay so low,
I’m running so far behind, I’ll have to go.
Not on holiday to Acapulco…
But to see my friend, Angelino…
He still owes me £150, you know,
No problem, just thought I’d let you know. 💟
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

One of those terrible, LESS days.
Everything was a problem, a handicap, mingled with annoying blanks, and I was mentally all over the place. Monday, when I eventually started this blog, although feeling calmer, and the much-appreciated, even if only temporarily, departure of Anne Gyne and Toothache Tiffany, I struggled to get things in order, and some photos I cannot recall taking, but the date on the SD card told me I had taken them on Sunday.
So, I’m already behind again with the blog. With all the extra diabetic blood tests, limping slowly around with the sticks, and my mind still floating from subject A to B, I found myself doing subject C, forgetting to go back to do A and B.
I often sense that I’ve got something wrong. I’m forever going back to the kitchen to see if I’ve left the oven on, fridge or freezer doors open, or my most common mistake, left the hot water to run cold. This often hinders the washing or hand-laundering that I’d planned to do, and I become more confused and further behind with things that need doing, but don’t get done. The frustration grows, the solution being so far out of reach, beyond me.
The ablutions are now taking me a lot longer to complete. Two hours, even without having a shower. Carer Ejaz gets annoyed with me when I try to rush things or bend down to pick anything up that I’ve dropped on the floor; bless him, he has the best of intentions. He fears me ending up back in the hospital, knowing what a nightmare it was last time. Bless him. Tells me to leave them if the picker-upper cannot get them, and he will check on his next call if anything has been dropped in a dangerous place.
So, I apologise if things get out of order, are missed, or are duplicated. It’s hard work today (Monday) concentrating without getting sidetracked of thoughts and tasks that disrupt my intended pattern of plans and intentions.
This paragraph flowed too easily for my liking.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Here I go, at last…
Bedded down at 00:10 hours, and into a broken, every now and then, sleep, forcing myself to dismount the bed at about 05:00hrs.
Carer Ejaz arrived a few minutes later as I was in the wet room battling to free the dark brown, solid, bobbly nuggets of the Constipation Konrad evacuation.
It was a long, arduous, painful task, needing a lot of urging.
Ejaz foamed the left lower leg lesions and issued the prescription medications. Gave me some extra Laxido to counteract the recent issues.
Did a body check, Porpain gelling Cartilage Chloe, and my lower back above the bottom, which he checked and reported as being bloodless. Then he barrier creamed under my flabby belly, the right arm, and the right testicle. Reminded me to take at least one stick with me whenever I moved to another room, and scolded me for bending down to pick things up. He was right, of course, he usually is, bless him. Within minutes of Ejaz’s departure, I was sitting on the Porcelain Throne again. I felt a little less resistant this time, but it did cause a bit of bleeding from Haemmorhoid Harold.

Made a start of Saturday’s blog, at the same time making several stupid errors that cost me hours to correct. Then, the return of the seizures. Then, the first one made things even worse, as it came in the middle of my trying to put right the earlier problems and foul-ups that I’d made. I’m not sure how long it lasted, but it felt like it was a long one. Because when I returned in incomprehensible confusion and disorientation, it cleared so quickly. I’ve noticed that the longer ones are so much easier and quicker to recover from. Luckily, I hadn’t continued working on the blog… when that happens, it is so time-consuming and annoying having to correct the errors I’d made in the seizure. For some unknown reason, I abandoned correcting of my earlier blogging mistakes on the blog and went to the kitchenette. I got the orange/brown nightshirt handwashed and hung it up to drip-dry on a hanger in the wet room shower rail. 
I took a snap of the kitchen window view. I’m not sure what I did wrong, but this photo had a hue that was nothing like the one in the camera’s eye-viewer when I took it.

Ejaz made a quick call, and I returned to the blog to correct so many errors that even I couldn’t believe that I’d made so many of them.

During Carer Ejaz’s teatime call, he checked, as I did, the PM Health Checks to ensure I had them right. Because the morning ones were so low, back in the danger zone.

I recall taking these cloud shots from the balcony, where I went to picture the end car park, but got carried away with the beauty of these clouds in the blue sky. I saw so many shapes within them… as any other addicted to pareidolia, like me, would.

I had to abandon blogging and finish it later; I’ll catch up in the morning. Suddenly attacked, this time including the foul, acrid taste coming up from the stomach; similar to the ones that come up after a nocturnal seizure. Concentration goes out of the window; concentration becomes a memory.
I think I rested in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner, and put the TV on. Fell asleep (or had a seizure) and woke up on top of the bed, the acidulous taste lingering, twixt my stomach and my mouth.
I urged my body off of the bed, and got the stick, off to the wet room to use some mouthwash & Peptac.
Within a few minutes, the acerbic taste dissipated, and my thoughts turned to food… I investigated what was available in the refrigerator and freezer.
I created rather than cooked up this little feast.
Country sausage (ready-cooked), cubed potatoes oven-baked, Water chestnuts, and roast chestnuts.
Very nice!

Out of the blue, a nurse arrived, apologising for calling on a Sunday. Someone is coming on Tuesday. Thinking I had been informed about her visit for today. (Naturally, I may well have been and I’d forgot about it – it could happen to anyone… but, odds are this is what happened). I am to have a home heart and blood monitor installed. She will return on the delivery day, letting me know the day before, and guide me and a Carer on how to use it. That was a nice gesture. She gave me a number to ring, should the BP be any lower than it was today. Advised me to pack a bag with things needed, just in case. Towel, pyjamas, razors, foam, prescription toothpaste & brush, slippers, etc. And not to forget my mobile, hearing aids & batteries, spectacles and a list of medications I take.

The Cardiac & DVT nurses, as well as the District Nurse, are also due to change or renew their long-overdue appointments . So, don’t fret if I’m unable to post a blog on Tuesday. As Arni said, “I’ll be back!” Hahaha! I might not even be going anywhere.

Another pretty view from the kitchenette window.

Ejaz made his last call, insisting that I get to bed early and try to get more sleep. Which gave me an inner excuse not to wash and shave, Hehe!

=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=
🤎 Please Taketh Care, Each! 🤎
 And have a good kip, if you can
=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=

Inchy Today: Sunday 20th July 2025

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

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

BONUS ODE
If a politician lied, can it be called insinuated?
Or, claim it’s proposed, suggested, even adumbrated, 
Can Starmer’s lies by omission be shrouded? 
I think he should be hanged or guillotined,
He’s a reprobate, immoral, degenerated,
SpecSavers, Arsenal, Sausages & hostagers,
To taking backhanders, he is not averse, 
Robbing, fiddling, killing pensioners, & farmers,
Backhanders? Arsenal, glasses, 
For his wife, designer outfits,
Lord Alli gave £500,000+ to Labour over 20 years,
Corporate box: by Arsenal valued at 8,950 pounds,
 40 sets of free tickets during his time as leader,
£698 of Coldplay tickets in Manchester,
£4,000 of hospitality at a Taylor Swift concert,
Accommodation valued at more than 20,000 pounds, Glasses valued at £2,485 pounds,
£4,475 of discounted personal training sessions,
A free £4,500 holiday to Welsh beauty spots,
£5000+ from various gastronomers,
A suggestion of hidden gifts of beverages!
Wouldn’t surprise me to see MP abscotchalaters,
Keir’s not exactly surrounded by MP artificers,
Or honest, reliable HMG inspectrices,
I hope Starmer doesn’t miss any Arsenal fixtures,
Hope the git doesn’t get any snottier,
I hope he gets even more unpopular,
And meets his own assasinator,
If not, he dies of gonorrhoea.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Catching up.
That’s that done.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll have a super choice tonight.

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

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

I took another sky shot.

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

All done and eaten!

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

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Be Good, Be Well, & Bless You!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy Today: Sunday 6th July 2025

/ Inchie / 14 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
TO HIS SERIES OF DREAMS LAST NIGHT
I hiked there in my warped realisation.
The result of a moment’s aberration,
Off for an afternoon spent riparian,
I enjoyed this on Bristol’s River Avon,
Ah, the peace, no altercation…
I saw my first coprophagan…
Missing the cow turds, with attention,
No visits from Agathodaemon…
I felt totally free of depression,
A gentle breeze, the sun my guerdon,
On the river, flotsam & hymenopteran,
So peaceful, no thoughts bacchanalian,
My mind wandered off on its own volition…
Viewing the world without condemnation,
I fell asleep, & found perfection…
Suddenly, no hatred, wars, crimes or derision!
Harmony, with Angels, each a protecting guardian,
All around me, people dressed Edwardian,
Azaleas, looking up at me, showing their apotropaism,
No scent of fear, or need of apogeotropism,
Then, I feared for this imaginary kingdom,
Knowing what lies ahead, I had the wisdom…
A man filling his pipe, his girlfriend paying attention,
Would she lose him in a war, perhaps the Crimean?
Senghenydd explosion, 439 men died while mining,
I woke up to find I had a problem,
A water-filled, leaking Wellington!
Maybe a seizure, I thought, after an interregnum,
This was all beyond my comprehension,
Yet the day felt real, in fact, so idyllian,
I even managed a little self-irrision,
I felt joyful, blithe, with exhilaration…
But riddled with suspicion…
Was today all but an illusion?
I’ll have to give this some consideration!
I certainly felt a strange abnormalisation…
I got there & back without transportation?
I searched but found no medication,
Ah… I’m at a different location!
Brookfield Place, under Arkwright St station,
All gone now, not in my memory & imagination,
It smells the same, soot & smoke from the train station,
The rag & bone man, horse & cart creating a ruction,
We try to get an increase in price, but get a reduction,
I saw myself poor & undesirable, a bezonian…
This dream is like a circumbilivagination,
The stable, the wood yard, folks in contradiction,
What I see may well be a conceptualisation…
But to me, it was a reassuring actualisation,
The smell of boiling bones for the gruel,
Not that I ever thought this was cruel,
Survival meant we had to be adaptable,
Cow heel, rabbit; if one were catchable,
Mother found cigarettes to be ascertainable,
Usually scrounged, stolen or pocketable,
As a small lad, others found me punchable,
Despite this, I remained compliable,
Although the neighbourhood was a little tribal,
Everyone had a go at me, it seemed logical,
I thought this was to be expected and normal,
I’ve always been easy to clobber & bumfuzzle,
Never knew why, but Mother called me her barnacle,
They pulled the old Meadows down… terrible!
It’d be a treasure to anyone archaeological!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

0535hrs: I think I woke just after having a seizure of some kind or other. Because I was so confused and wobbly on my feet when I dismounted the bed to sort out the nocturnal catheter. I felt the need for the Porcelain Throne brewing up in my innards.

Dizzy Dennis joined in the sensations as I slowly hobbled, with a degree of balancing difficulty, to the Porcelain Throne. It proved to be a messy and extremely long affair. The time spent cleaning up the limbs, bottom, and porcelain was worse because I kept getting dizzy each time I bent down. 
Another mystery from Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, & spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Dank Depressing Darius, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhoea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, or the Fata Morgana, hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, Whoopsiedangleplops that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, and logicality were already on the wane.

But as I hobbled back to the kitchen, I realised it was as if someone had corrected my balance, and the Dizzy Dennis had gone off into the ether?

As I thought about this gift, with her stabbing pains started in the neck this time. And spent three hours touring around my torso. Under the left arm, right chest, centre chest, back to the neck, almost up to the chin, right chest… etc.
When she suddenly stopped, I wasn’t surprised; she must have worn herself out. Hehehe!

I poddled out onto the balcony to take a couple of shots of the view in the rain, through the windows, of course.
I had to take a shot from the end of the balcony as the innards were gurgling and rumbling again. Once again, was in control. At least it wasn’t as messy as the first. But it was extremely gooey! Smelly-Phoo, too!

Back to the balcony to take a window end shot.
Although I am not very often pleased or confident about anything I do nowadays, this one I was happy with.
. Hehe!

Carer Ejaz rang the intercom. I fumbled my way to the box, pressed ‘receive,’ and the panel showed Ejaz on his phone. I then pressed the release button on the door. The intercom chimes started again, and the inner lobby door had not opened! I tried again, but no success. (No success? Could that go on my plaque at the crematorium? – Or, as someone suggested last year, would this be better: “He came, He failed, He Went?”  Got carried away again there. Sorry. So, I’d got my dressing gown on from when I went out onto the balcony to take the fantastic, wonderful, magnificent photo above left. Haha! So I went down to admit Ejaz.
How long will this visit last? I’m absolutely loving this mood! 👍🏾

Ejaz was wet from the rain, poor lad. He got the prescription medications sorted for me and reminded me to take the B12 supplement. No Peptac or Cetraben is needed. As Anne Gyna was on a break, the legs, ankles, and feet that had been fed to bursting point over the last three weeks are looking great, super-duper! Yee-Haa!

I made a determined effort to complete yesterday’s blog. Although, was, for some reason going blurring my sight, almost as bad as she does when I look at the sunshine.

A couple of hours later, the intercom rang again. It was the Iceland order arriving. I tried to tell him the door might not work and that I’d be down to open the lobby door manually for him. I’m not sure if he heard me, as the screen dies within a few seconds. So, I got dressed again, and as I was leaving to go down, the driver arrived. He put them in the kitchenette for me.
The first thing I noticed was the big bag of toilet paper. They were a bit more expensive than my usual ones, but it was the sale price, and it stated they were triple-ply. So, with getting frisky with me, I thought it best.
What a Mistaka to Maker!
👎🏼Just look at the size of this sheet that I photographed! Pathetic!
I swear that it will take a third of a roll to wipe my bottie after a evacuation!
As I photographed a selection to go into the fridge, I noticed that Iceland Foods had done it again. 👎🏼The steak slice had a must-be-used-by date of Today!
👎🏼And, disappointment number three from Iceland Foods, the baby potatoes. I had to throw away six of them. (see the photo on the right). They were either split or had black spots near the surface; some had both! 👎🏼When I opened a pack of the shortcake biscuits, they had been ready-pre-crushed for me. The company’s new slogan is Google tells me:
👎🏼“That’s why we go to Iceland” Huh!👎🏼
Free delivery, though, as long as you spend £40.
No mention of the fee for picking, packing and carrier bags. But one has to be fair. Asda often pre-crushes your bread to make it easier to digest; their dates are dodgy, too.
Even J Sainsbury sent Royal Farms Grown Anya potatoes last week with black spots, and they were to be used by the same day as the delivery. And cheesy cobs. But with Trump, Putin, Xi Jinping, and Sparkling Toolmaker’s Son Starmer doing their best to prompt World War Three, does this really matter enough to bother about? Maybe not!

A Little Quiz: There was an item in one of the photos that Carer Mizra pointed out had ingredients. Here they are; see if you can find out which product it was from them. Ingredients: Beef (1800P08 per 1g) of beef xxxxxxx. Seasoning: dextrose, caster sugar, salt, onion powder, yeast extract, tomato powder, garlic powder, smoked paprika, caramelised sugar. Natural flavouring: Citric acid, smoked maltodextrin, oregano, liquorice powder, paprika extract, salt, vinegar, potassium sorbate. The seven X’s replace the name of the product. The first comment winner will receive a Certificate Of Merit on the blog.

Carer Mizra arrived, also rather damp-looking.
He took a minute or two to examine the new mobile, trying to figure out how to change the ringtone and make it louder. No luck, but he tried. Thanks, Mizra. Ejaz tried without any luck the other day. I don’t think the option is on the phone at all. They both comprehend the workings of new phones. I think this one has no choice.

I persevered with this blog. And I got some of the photos uploaded and into the WordPress gallery… this is when, to the best of my knowledge, the first seizure occurred. This was a decent, lengthy one, nothing like the five-hour one I had earlier in the week, but again, I was all over the place mentally and physically when I emerged from it. It was replaced by confusion . 
I found that while in the seizure, I’d been working on the blog. I made a right mess of it, which took me ages to get right again.
It took me half an hour of just sitting here feeling sorry for myself, especially after the longest-ever unbroken visit from .

All the effects were lessening when Carer Mizra returned. During the time he was here, clarity returned, along with something that amazed me, but it was back in my head again. No rhyme or reason. Nothing had changed, apart from Carer Mizra calling and the head and dizzying clearing. Yet, I’m in a Sod-Them all mode again. Unbothered, unworried? How I wish I could summon Horis up when I need him! 🤸🏻‍♀️

Back on the balcony.
The rain had stopped. I got a decent shot of the famous end of the car park’s mudflow.

Then, the amazingly dull but still gorgeous sky. Then I’m afraid that things have changed slightly for the worse!
A dual attack coordinated by and hit me; this was not good.

The last Carer call was with Mizra. When he was here, joined in. Mizra had never seen (or heard) Roger in action before.
He seemed genuinely worried, asking if he should call an ambulance. No sooner had he gone than the rain came again. I took a snapshot of it from the closed kitchen window.

Back to the blogging. Thinking and praying for the return of . No luck! 

I continued with this lengthy blog. Suddenly, I realised it was 05:00hrs! No wonder I was feeling done in. I had no energy for food preparation, so I saved the things and closed the computer.

It took all the energy I had left just to climb into bed. For the first time ever, I ignored the panic-thoughts of Did I lock the door. Are the taps turned off, etc? I was not feeling too well and was too tired to be bothered. Well, that was a first!
Luckily, nothing was found amiss in the morning.

Apart from the fact that I was so far out of it.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
TTFNski.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy Today: Saturday 5th July 2025

/ Inchie / 18 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
STARMER
Starmer, the PM, is famous for his lies!
A man I could never ever heroise,
HMG? disloyalties, treacheries, perfidies…
Dishonesty, profligacy, untrustworthy,
Labour Party values adulterer.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Got to catch up, so a quickie today

Carers, Mizra & Ejaz today.
Three visits today to theall of a similar nature.

TTFN
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy’s Ode: Thursday 12th June 2025

/ Inchie / 13 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – TO THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE – –

My youth & teens were spent as a cycler,
A few years later, I became more adulter, 
Having a motorbike license, I bought a 3-wheeler,
Driving it inside, at first, felt weirder,
It was appreciated by Grizelda,
And driving it was far less colder,
Romantically, I got a bit bolder,
Our passions began to smoulder…
I got urges, I don’t mean in my shoulder,
But she was a big gal, my Grizelda,
Lack of room hampered our kissing and cuddling,
Needed a bigger car to get my Zipperdeedoda!
I bought a Skoda Estelle, which was bigger, 
Seat laid back flat: room to romp and jigger!
Satisfied each other’s needs, which was avuncular,
I was nimble, Gorgeous Grizelda was muscular,
We merged, entangled each other’s appendicular,
Blending, integrating our torsos together, 
In the car, no worry about the weather,
Then things got astronomically better!
She moved into my flat that winter,
I was existing surrounded by ambrosia,
Life seemed heaven-sent, never sublimer,
She girded my loins pleasantly harder,
No female before was ever so yummier,
No female before was ever hairier,
Solid, thick thighs would squash yer…
Gawd! How I miss Grizelda!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Crappy night’s sleep, broken again, but this time I had an idea what was causing the bursting awakes. I found myself with a sore throat and coughing after each awakening. Due to my cock-ups during the day, some of which will be admitted to and told of later, I’ve lost the time I made up a little yesterday.
Of course, I take all this in my stride.
There I go again, I’ve lied! 05:30hrs: 
I gave up on my sleep-seeking.
Night catheter pouch off.

05:45hrs: Kitchen view.

Medications.

More Medications.

And, some more Medicationalisationings.

Came across my Anticoagulation Card.
2004, I think. Hehe.

Ticker & Blood Tests.

NOT GOOD AT ALL!
But at least the blood oxygen has improved.

Several hours on the blogging.

Carer Ejaz arrived.
NOT GOOD AT ALL!
He handed me the medications, and I put them in my mouth and started to pour in some spring water.
Nothing would go down my throat, tablets or water.
I gagged a bit and had to spit everything out. Some of the tablets that had been in my mouth with the water had disintegrated as I tried to swallow for a while.

Ejaz thought I’d swallowed some because he couldn’t find the tablets in the bin. I examined the waste bin I’d just spewed up in. I recognised the beta-blocker, Codeine, and Ramipril; the others had either melted of dissolved. He was told not to give me anymore again, as I may overdose. How, when I didn’t swallow any in the first place, was puzzling. It’s not the lad’s fault. I waited until he had gone and just took those I knew were needed. Codeine, Ramipril and a Beta-blocker. Shook me up a smidge. No problems taking these? Or since?

Asda delivery arrived.
I explained my problem with bending down, as I do with any not-seen-before driver, and asked if he could put the stuff in the carriers I’d supplied.
Well, if nothing else, you’ve got to appreciate the way he crammed the crisps in; it might be a crisp-pre-crushing process they are trying out?

Peas Split bag,
Tomatoes, box ripped,
Tomato bruised.
These were from Ocado last week.
Morrisons sent me a pre-crushed loaf.

Went to make a small meal.
Washing the dishes, I dropped the bowl as I emptied it. All over the floor, and trod it all over.
Washed it and realised the potatoes were probably burnt now. Taking out the oven tray, I dropped that on the just-mopped kitchen floor and realised the bottom of the slippers was now leaving grotty black marks as well!
Took the slippers off and put them in the laundry bag. Getting the other pair on… Lost my balance and hit my shoulder and armpits on the £300 second-hand shop bought in c1966. Moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner.
Eventually, I got around to making a mug of Glengettie tea. Took the meal through to the recliner and fetched the tea through. The door chime chimed.
Carer Jyoti. The meal and tea were cold when I got back to them.
I went to throw the fodder away and make another brew. I decided to make some spring water bottles to meet the demands & needs of the catheter & bladder.
Yes, I dropped the bottle! I stood there watching as it spun around, spraying water all over the kitchen floor! Although I had to force myself not to cry… the self-cursing, terrible language, Depression Duncan, and general disbelieve at the last hour’s event… followed by more bad language… I cursed myself that much, and I was shaking with anger so much that I got a rare headache.

Must remember to tell Carer Joe about the phone call I had while Carer Jyoti was here from the Social Lady regarding the wheelchair. She asked questions about various things, but I lost the plot as confused as I got. Carer Jyoti spoke with her. Can’t recall the details. I did ask for her number to ring, though, for Joe to contact her.
07812 277786 Tues > Thursday. 08:00>16:00hrs.

The muslin cover bags that Social no longer supplies, which I have to buy from Amazon, arrived.

Taking this shot of the view.
The pains from the catheter tube pullling on Little Inchie and his lesion kicked in. Tried different positions for the straps, but the bugger was still hurting when I was trying to sleep later on and into the morning. Painful!

Carer Joe called, and I told him my woes, but I don’t recall (I do a lot of this) mentioning calling the Social lady or her name. Humph!

No meal, of course. I had crisps and an ice cream.
And soon nidded off. I woke up by the arrival of Carer Ejaz. I recall a little about this call.
Ejaz took the waste bags.

As tired as I felt, fretting over this, and that caused me problems getting to sleep.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
A bad day, needless to say!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy Today: Satur’Rotten’day 24th May 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
This is a sort of disclaimer.
Defending my brain’s abductor,
My cerebrum needs a new alternator,
Today, full of Whoopsiedangleploppery…
Has angered & confused me continually,
Hot tap left running twice – Good Glory!
Burnt my dinner, coughing & throaty,
Everything went more confusingly,
As I write this, it’s 16:00hrs, Sunday,
07:15, I mean on Saturday…
Has angered & confused me continually,
Hot tap left running twice – Thoughts gory!
Struggled with the Peripheral Neuropathy,
Arthritis and cartilage, bad in each knee,
Glaucoma was making things hard to see,
I cut my finger on the zester,
Porcelain Throne visits, never messier!
What people said would not register,
My catheter tap was left open, pathetically…
Slippers, socks, feet, carpet wet, you see?
Leg ulcers turned deep zaffre…
Burnt my dinner, coughing & throaty,
Everything went more confusingly,
No one had time for a chat or natter…
What bit of hope I had began to wither,
I didn’t know if I was here, there or whether…
It was pouring with rain, a change in the weather,
Dark Dank Depression Duncan dawned,
No visits from High Horis, I felt scorned,
I got confused with the dates on the calendar,
The computer has a blue screen, whatsoever,
Each caller had a different Carer,
Lost without Carer Joe, he’s on holiday,
Fought against dates, mathematically,
My thoughts sadly went argumentatively,
And I was only talking to myself, sadly,
Then, I think you may agree…
I suffered catastrophe after catastrophe,
I washed the pots and put them away,
A Carer from the ICC,
Which naturally distracted me,
She left, I discovered, agonistically,
I’d left the tap running again. Glory be!
No ablutioning today as well, I can see!
Cleaning my togs first, carefully…
Rarely for this year, it was still rainy,
Then I tackled a job most risky…
The bowl of disinfected hot water…
To the main room, I had to porter,
No Accifauxpas, with that water,
Stuck my feet in the bowl, with anti-fungal,
But I forgot to fetch the towel…
So I dried off with some kitchen towel,
Went to empty the bowl in the in the WC,
Dropping it as I poured it into the toilet bowl,
I stubbed my toe, boy, did I howl!
I wanted to throw in the towel…
Instead, I made a brew…but I couldn’t find it. Nor my mobile!
Give up, swear, curse and growl,
Depression Duncan was invincible,
High Horis was absent or invisible…
Most of this is immaterial,
Bad-luck? I’ve had jugful…
I sank into a mental jungle,
My mind was in a twisted muddle,
Too many problems to juggle,
Life seems no longer manageable,
Everyday, more mishaps & trouble,
My brain & soul are no longer mutual,
My joints & bones are no longer malleable,
Problems not hideable or mothballable,
Cognitive Impairment, sanity not recuperable,
I’ve no slippers left because I’ve pee’d in them all,
Proving that I’m ever more adorkable,
I still feel that life nowadays is not workable…
I also seem to be growing more sulkable,
My thoughts & ideas are now circumstantial,
I sense I’m becoming somewhat augural,
In High Horis’s absence, I’m apoplectical,
I was once perceptible, & palopable,
Will Horis ever return? I’m still hopeful,
Gawd, that entity made me so cheerful,
Does this read all agathokakological?
With problems neurological & physical,
Seemingly ignored by anyone medical,
What chance? Is logic salveable?
Unobtainable, unreasonable, or unworkable?
Sorry, this may sound morbid, apocryphal,
It’s just that I’ve had a belly full,
Dementia, Incogniscence… are they…
mendable, rectifiable or even explainable?
I made a meal that looked rather eatable,
Unfortunately, in the morning, at half-past two,
I’d only been in bed for a minute, too!
Off again to the Porcelain Throne, I flew,
I had another ,
The evacuation started before it was due!
Much foul language was used, I can tell you,
It was unstoppable, smelly and impromptu,
More time lost, much cleaning up to do,
Arithmetic, I nowadays misconstrue,
But, did I enjoy my meat & potato stew!.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Just had a short visit from!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –


Today felt like anything go-wrongable went wrongable. Repeatedly.
My mind took a holiday.

Scribbled notes on the pad and a few photos triggered some memories.

04:20hrs: Removed the nocturnal catheter bag.
I Put the kettle on. Then, I soaked the socks in disinfectant from the urine mishap—how many times has that happened this week? I made up three waste bags. I put them near the front door, where they remained for two days with the following added ones. Could I remember to ask the caregivers to take them to the shute? No!
I didn’t get around to doing this blog until Tuesday.
By then, I’d overwritten the pictures taken as I got them all mixed up with each other. I must have lost at least a dozen photos! Self-hatred, stupidity, and a smidge of anger with myself.

Yet again, Unbelievable!
I was emptying the day bag, and the intercom rang; it was the Carer. As it seems habitual nowadays, I did not fully close the bleed valve on the catheter pouch.
More foul, self-cursing emanated.
Another high-risk activity is carrying a bowl of disinfected water to remove the pong of urine on my feet. Mind you, I’ve done it three times (not closing the valve and carrying water from the kitchen to the front room and back). No, I’ve done it four times this week. I ran the hot water tap cold six times. And I swore (Estimated) 12,456 times this week thus far. Only one more day left to increase these figures. (Which I can you now, I did!)

All my slippers are already in the laundry bag.
And with the Carer not putting on the diabetic socks, I walked the stink all over the rooms. I was not up to mopping, but I sprayed all the carpeting with a fabric freshener and the rooms with air spray. I still can’t find the small blue towel. But give me time. I’ve only been looking for it for two weeks. Untidy is the kindest word to describe the flat.

I think this photo might be from another previous day. Cause I can’t recall any prescription medications being delivered. Mind you, later on, when I got a phone call, the lady asked me why I had not attended the meeting with the neurologist at The Ropewalk. I felt silly asking where the Ropewalk was.
After cringingly apologising and thanking her for setting up a new emergency date for the examination (August 28th), I checked my calendar. There was nothing on there. .

Not sure about this photo either.

Or when this one was taken.
What day was it taken?

I went to get the much-needed ablutions done, but I needed to use the porcelain Throne first.

Morrison order. The photos have been overwritten—all of them! No, hang on. I’ll check to see if I put them in the wrong folder. I’d be daft enough to have…
Well, after searching, I could not find them in any file. I went on CorelDraw to download Tuesday’s files and realised I’d left the photos on the CorelDraw page. So, I had to change all the names and save them again to use here. I sense big cock-ups in the offing!
I found some snaps.
I think these were the right ones.
But…
They are, I’m nearly certain.
Well…

I had better stop here if I’m getting deeper into a quagmire of confusion with three days of blog photos and notes and the wrong days of events shared between the three. I think duplicity is a possibility for these three blogs. Sorry if this is so.

Many photos in the preview are different from those in the editor. I’m sorry again; I can’t find out why. If this continues, I’ll have to give up. Anger-Making!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Cheers!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy Today: Monday 19th May 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Starmer cops for it again
I might say that life is an enigma,
With complications over which to ponder,
I try to understand, to be an analyser,
Will I ever be a true comprehendor?
I’m not a very good fact grasper,
My desire to know grows achier,
I make notes in my adversaria…
Hard to read them with my glaucoma,
HMG gets more and more austerer,
Will life ever again get boshter?
Starmer, the great circumventor…
Fibber, fabulist and fabricator,
A decent con man and storyteller,
His promises get ever zigzaggier,
He may prattle, babble or yatter…
Of things that don’t really matter,
To the ordinary shat-on voter,
A Labour core value nonbeliever,
A degenerate, a political gangster,
Moral derelict, deceptive fact-dodger,
A political delinquent, a dispiriter,
He’s double-crossing, a double-dealer,
Fabricator, killer and demoraliser,
He’s corrupt, immoral, & diabolic!
Rosey cheeks from his dipsomania?.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Depression Duncan and High-Mode-Horis shared the day again, visiting me so often, but neither had the upper hand. I lied. Duncan has just returned after a decent time with Horis, which gives Duncan the upper hand. I just can’t concentrate. At least they took a while, as they did yesterday, before toying with my mind. So I got a few photos and graphicalisations done to go on before I turned into a… never mind. 
The mistakes made today outnumbered yesterday, maybe two to one. But one of the Accifaupa’s had a distinct bit of humour attached to it. It’s about the only spot of fun all day. I was on a downer for the three Carer calls. But they went well, particularly on the first call. Which was well after the humourous incident of the day. I’m delaying telling you so I can make myself look a tad not so daft.
I’ll start as usual by waking up and somehow freeing myself, oh, so reluctantly, from the bed’s clutches. 

I forced myself to move my legs to get off of the bed.
And were not pleased with being moved. They both gave way together when I got my weight on the floor! I’m so glad they did it when they did, with me having the pleasure of the bed to fall on. It was almost a pleasure. Haha!
While emptying the catheter night pouch, I decided to get a shower, shave, and medicate where I could reach. I checked the kitchen in case I’d left something on or running and took a scarce photograph. In my wandering mind, only a precious few made it to the blog. I think I took several view photos later from different angles, only to find I’d left the card in the computer when I loaded this one.
It took ages for the sun to break through, well into the afternoon.
The tail end of this tale of woe contains the humorous Accifauxpas. I think you’ll laugh at it!

The first job before getting things ready for the task at hand was to remove the catheter muslin bag. I joke not; it took me half an hour, a lot of pain, loss of blood from Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, and the use of some, erm… shall I say, colourful cursing and swearing to get it off undamaged. I’ll ask the Carer later to put it back on for me.
As needed, I was off to the wet room with towels, etc. Plans went askew, and I got seated on the Porcelain Throne in reply to a burst of wind escaping from my rear end. I was actually rushing, thinking things may be starting and coming of their own volition again. But No!
This warped, mangled body, mind, and innards were fooled again. The anticipated near-liquid flushing did not happen. Trotsky Terence wasn’t in the running. 
Ruled the roost. 
After several failed, painful efforts to encourage the movement, I sat back with the crossword book and had a go at it. I’d not been doing well over the last few days on that puzzle, yet I got about ten clues answered!
Conrad releases his hold, and a little wind and a pong permeated out, followed by three massive torpedoes! One after the other. Glad they escaped!
I cleaned my teeth and might have gone into a seizure. I remember the toothbrush hitting something and bouncing down; I heard it fall, and then that was it for a few minutes. I came back and found that I was sitting on the WC again. I felt confused, but there was no pain, accifauxpas, or injuries. Great!

I got the shaving sorted out with almost ease this morning. No droppages, and just one tiny little nick. 
Time to get into the shower.
Oh, I did enjoy it. Cartilages Carole and Chloe were good to me; even Anne Gyna left me alone. (The funny bit is coming soon.)
I did have a bit of a wobble as I got the shower curtain closed. So I plopped my bottom on the shower chair, but the water was on hot and full power, and as the fluid fell on me, I was liberal with the carbolic soap wherever I could reach while sitting down. I left the water showering over me and really enjoyed it!
As usual, I reached for the grab bar from the chair to get up. The Cartilaged gals were again not pleased with being used, letting me know in their typical fashion, pain and threatening to give way. I got both hands on the grab bar just in case and hauled myself up onto my feet. That’s when it dawned on me… there’s only one way to tell you this… I felt something sharp sticking in my bum! Such a surprise that I forgot all about the Cartilage risks and groped to feel what the heck it was… do you want to guess? I’ll wait a bit if so…
It was my toothbrush!

I assume the noise I heard earlier was the toothbrush landing on the shower chair. I had to laugh!
I got on with the medicationings.
It took a while, but then, as I was told to, I dried off the catheter day bag with kitchen towels.

Carer Ejaz arrived. He did a full body check and barrier creamed my ankles and torso. Then, he issued the medications and moved on to getting my diabetic socks on. Bless him!

I’m unsure when, why or how, but I cleaned the fridge a bit. Well, I found this photo on Kodak Tim’s SD card.
Now, I recall this one.
In the red microwave bowl in the fridge, I made a mixture of Vegetable soup, pickled mushrooms, water chestnuts, garden peas, and some potatoes. I stored it for later use. 
Oh, and Korean BBQ sauce with peppers, etc.

Really out of it now, for a long time.
I had recovered a smidge and was back on the blog when Carer Manpreet arrived. I had not seen her before, but that might be wrong. She’s a nice gal.

This snap was on the SD card. I know when I took it, it would have been in the afternoon while I was out of it. I think.

I added some things to tomorrow’s Iceland order. They emailed me to let me know.

I heated the food and got Milk Roll sliced bread that Jenny had given me. Bless her cotton socks.
And tucked in while watching Heartbeat on channel ITV3. Lovely!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Another messy day.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Cheerioski!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy Today: Saturday 17th May 2025

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

MORE A REMINDER THAN CARTOON
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
STOP…
Stop, but don’t do nothing…
Think: Is humankind worth saving?
Who will do the adjudicating?
Whom can we trust for officiating?
Who will reveal the declaring?
Will we decide by voting?
The leaders we’ve been electing…
Oligarchs, criminals, always lying…
I find them greedy & mind-boggling,
He seems to enjoy pensioners dying?
<<<<>>>>>
When we bravely request a financial bequest,
We get a failed promise, a behest at best,
Do we vote for the least bloodthirstiest,
We settle for the best of the baddest,
We get Starmer, virtually, Labour’s baddest,
A right-winger, not a Socialist!
A taking backhanders specialist,
Who looks after his own spondulicks,
As lying PMs go, he’s the stealthiest,
Maybe he appeals to schizophrenics.
<<<<>>>>>
Compassion? He hasn’t got the remotest,
Wars, hostages? He’s not worth a sausage,
He’s got his nuclear shelter radiologist,
Is earth worth saving in retrospect,
To be honest, I’ve not got the remotest,
Did you hear of the upcoming protest?
Calls for a national strike from communists,
If it’s all peaceful, I won’t object,
I liked Boris, although the slaphappiest,
Starmer? The Unsincerest!
<<<<>>>>>
Can you believe Keir’s not even prosecutable?
He’s even not at all arrestable!
No chance of him being imprisonable,
He’s sacrosanct; after lying to get electable,
Takes backhanders; what a spectacle…
Clothes, cinema, tickets for Arsenal,
He’s made himself impregnable…
Other MPs’ crimes make them blackmailable,
Yet his crimes are irrefutable!
His greed & dishonesty are kenspeckle!
<<<<>>>>>
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
A minimal in the extreme blog today

LAST NIGHT….
Early yesterday evening, to add to the crazy seizure and Ann Gyna popping into the equation, I got the same as I did last Saturday night.
A deep tiredness, depression and, most annoyingly at the time, kicked off for the first time since last Saturday. I nodded off to sleep in the c1966, £300 charity shop bought second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner, even with and both giving me attention and waking me up every so often, I soon got back into bliss.
Carer Joe woke me up. 
I was so wee’d-off. I couldn’t help it.
Within minutes of his departure, I nodded off again.
Mysteriously, but it suited me; never twitched again. And eased off tremendously. And I fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of the old days. Two hours later, Carer Ejaz woke me. 
I WAILED WITH FRUSTRATION.
Poor Ejaz thought I was getting at him. It’s hard to explain how things can be with my conditions, and I felt guilty about the misunderstanding.
Once Ejaz departed, I felt tired and could not get back to sleep. I tried the usual: I put the TV on. Even that failed. After another fruitless hour of trying my best, I finished yesterday’s blog and started this one. 
Around 04:30hrs, I felt I could get some sleep. But needed to utilise the . 
As I got up, the pain from the catheter tube in Little Inchy, now leaning to the left, was agony!

I hobbled to the wet room and got myself seated. The nasal juices flowed, and it took me ages to painfully encourage the controlled evacuation to begin. A little bleeding from . I emptied the pouch into a jug for the Carer to evaluate. Then, I tackled moving the tubing and straps on the catheter in the vain hope of easing the pain. I decided to get the done, being as I was up.
Shaved first. It is not usually recommended when I feel so tired. But, foolishly, I carried on. I amassed four nicks and foolishly . 
Wish I’d taken Kodak Tim 2 with me now. The sink reminded me of, erm… Psycho, I think. Haha!

Orifices scrubbed up and dried.


All the usual. Eye drops & sprays Little Inchies Lesion, 
Another failed go at getting the catheter contraption tube & straps less painful. 
Barrier creamed where I could reach.

I was back on the computer, fell asleep, and crumpled to the floor, landing on my left knee—now the tube and straps are even more painful.
Clamboured up using the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. And thought I’d stay there and get some sleep at long, long last.

That lasted a minute or so, and the landline telephone chirped up. All I could hear was some music? No idea who it was.

Carer Ejaz came in. Well, after I’d unlocked the door, I forgot to do it with the ablutions and Meds performance. A good-looking lad, he was getting some medications out of the prescription drawer in the kitchen.

I’m so tired out. Continues her milder attackd. She’s getting around a bit today. I’m unsure what happened in detail, but the worn-outness and fatigue returned just like last weekend? 
Why only at weekends?
Fell asleep, Carer woke me up.
Put TV on to watch the highlight of the day.
Fantastic Result!
A WARM SMUGNESS FELT!
My hatred of Manchester City is only beaten by my Hatred of Chelsea. Naturally, my loathing of Herr Keir ‘Pensioner-Killer’ Starmer outdoes them both.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I then proceeded to fall asleep again.
Woken by the Carer. Mizra. Who, I recall, barrier-creamed both ankles. Painkillers were given to counter the almost persistent and graded the urine for me.

I then did some work catching up on this blog.
Before getting the meal, I prepared it earlier and put it in the fridge.
Delicious!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – Cheers! – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy Today: Friday 16th May 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
He’s getting senile and old,
His brain needs a remould,
Mind fogs, a sort of mind mould,
Problems not faced or unresolved,
No wins or successes to behold,
Frustrations make him frampold,
His health-ailments are manifold,
His thinking capacity is caracoled!
<<<<>>>>>
Things were as bad as last September,
Albeit they are mayhap a bit bleaker,
Medications similar, Warfarin, a Beta-blocker,
For his dodgy ticker and Anne Gyna,
Took Durvalumab for bladder cancer,
Cut out Morphine, for that I’m gladder,
New seizures? They make me sadder,
The ankle growths tend to blister.
<<<<>>>>>
As each day progresses, I feel browbeaten,
But thank heavens I’m not bed-ridden!
The seizures now come in a different combination,
Politics? No morals, just commercialisation,
Self-profit and wealth, greed, exploitation,
My legs & ankles have pustulation,
My mind’s full of fear & procrastination,
Political actions are mostly an abomination!
<<<<>>>>>
I loath oligarchs, politicians & the aristocratic,
Arithmophobia, now I fear arithmetic,
Although I’m also dyscalculic & diplegic,
Many folks are worse off; some blind, paraplegic…
I think this might be prophetic or pathetic,
I’ve invented a word, Whoopsiedangleplopic!
When having an electroencephalographic,
To describe my life, my biographic
<<<<>>>>>
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Today was an up-and-down mess.
He kicked off early, and I thought he may have been with me in my sleep. He seemed deeply ingrained.
I took an early morning shot with Kodak Tim 2.

Then took over.
Followed without any logical reason, by chirpy , all my worries floated away. Then, varying types and lengths of seizures.
This pattern went on for the rest of the day. Well, up until now, at least (15:00hrs).
My concentration suffered later when I started doing the Ode, and it worsened. Oh, heck!

The JS order arrived. Ejaz put on my socks, and medications were issued. I had changed the catheter contraption back to the left leg. Ejaz put on the fresh pouch and straps for me. He did a good job. The ankles were looking much calmer this morning. Ejaz still put some barrier cream on them for me.
The scars left on top of the left leg by the catheter day bag still needed attention.
Later in the day, I felt the right leg day pouch to assess if it was filling up. I was a smidge concerned at all the water I’d been drinking, and the bag didn’t feel as if anything had got through to it. I decided to investigate and pulled up a long Yaohuole. I did feel like an idiot!
I’d forgotten that I’d moved it back to the left leg!

Carer Joe did the early afternoon call. No meds were needed. But I took some Peptac later.

Now, Anne Gyna is playing me up. The mini-seizures have been uncountable, but I think most were short. The two extremes of and  continue to keep swapping control of my emotions. Scary, really!

Going to get something to eat now while I’m on a high. I bet you by the time I’ve cooked and readied it,
will be back.
I hate it when this happens.

Best Nosh All Month!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
👍🏻 Keep Well, & Happy! 👍🏻
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchy Today: Tuesday 13th May 2025

/ Inchie / 14 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
SMUG-MODE ENGAGED
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Thinking!
Thinking back, I began to hallucinate,
Here, giving me a cuddle, was Auntie Kate,
I guess I beginning, starting to levitate…
Floating back in time, young again, lanate,
Grizelda began to maxilate…
Fondle, hugging me, & to mussitate,
We did things considered misappropriate,
Guilt? I no longer felt, nor was I novitiate,
Freedom, my thoughts no longer obdurate,
Physical ailments began to obfuscate,
Gawd, this illusion is super-great!
Am I dead? A ghost, or maybe a wraith?

Am I being given a forecast or a prophecy?
Am I dead or alive? I viewed this whimsically,
May I be en route to see St. Peter?
I’ve paid my debts! Rent or electricity,
Why do I sense that I’m feeling guilty?
Is this a dream, a seizure or a Whoopsie?
Griselda is still toying pleasurably with me,
I no longer feel elderly, tired or weary!
Under my bed is now a guzzunder,
I’ve not seen one of these since 1953,
What year is it? I don’t feel at all distressingly?
The sky and globe have turned all yellowy…
Opaque, angels, pink clouds, worryingly…
St. Peter has not yet greeted me!

Am I getting sillier? I feel more cheerier!
Is this an end-of-life bamboozler?
Wherever I am, it feels cosier,
I suppose it should, being free of Starmer?
Yes, I must have died; I’ve never been happier,
Oh, here’s a transparent cheerleader…
Glittering eyes, big bust, much curvature,
Ah, she’s just been attacked by Grizelda,
Maybe because she gave me a sly twire?
Heaven or Hell, I feel much toeier…
No bother from Gladys Glaucoma,
Arthur Itis, Shaking Shoulder or Anne Gyna,
Grizelda’s back, with handcuffs and a tether…
Prompting movement in the tallywhacker!

Well, I’m interested and acquiescing,
A billion-long queue of souls is forming,
Grizelda & me at the end, that’s galling,
It’s for St. Peter’s gate, I’m assuming,
For questioning and allocating…
Heaven or Hell’s door selecting?
Grizzly said, there’s a third door we might be using!
I asked for what? This is so confusing,
That’s for souls picked to be returning…
The answer was more than terrifying,
Sent back to earth, that’ll be intimidating!
For those chosen, Starmer will be waiting,
Still be cheating, lying, stealing & killing…
I suddenly came out of my daydreaming,
Starmer is still in power; it’s heartbreaking!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
This morning, I kept waking up at 04:00hrs.
Repeated this action endless times before nodding off again into a deep sleep.
I was woken up at about 07:30hrs. By Carer Ejaz. Who told me it had taken him about ten minutes to wake me up! I swiftly fell asleep again. Ejaz was concerned when I sat up and grabbed my lower belly in response to aches and pains. None were awful, but they remained for a few hours after Ejaz had gone. 
As Ejaz was issuing the medications, apparently, I nodded off again! 
I did not move from the bed during Ejaz’s visit. He removed the nocturnal catheter bag and applied Barrier cream to the leg-strapping wounds. They were much less bothersome and painful this morning. Being in bed for such a long time made the base of my sternum far more sore than it was yesterday, but the wounds looked better. Ejaz took this photo of the catheter contraption for me. I got the diabetic socks put on for me. Ejaz lost some time with having to rouse me. And I had to shoot off; I’d not moved during his visit.

When Ejaz left, I fell asleep yet again! Hence, there was little time to catch up or much photographicalisation today.

When I finally gingerly got up on my feet, my stomach ache steadily improved. But my concentration was not good at all.

I got on the computer, and the catheter pouch filled shortly after. When I went to empty it, the tube on the release valve was not there, making many messy emptyings throughout the day. I searched the flat, thinking it must have come off when Ejaz emptied it. He usually does not take it off. Sometimes, he’ll put it on. After failing to find the tube, I thought he might have pulled it off when he removed the nocturnal bag. He then put it in the kitchen rubbish bag, which has since been put down the waste chute. So, I’ll struggle on. Let’s face it, I’m good at struggling. Hehehe!

I was prepping to get today’s Ode started. But feeling better in myself now. Then…
I found I’d left the damned hot water tap running again. How many times in two days? Three, I think!

A massive vagueness overcame me. It stayed visiting me until about 16:00hrs. It was in full flow when Carer Joe called around 13:15hrs. I’m unsure what we spoke about other than Joe’s plans to start sorting the clothes in the junk room tomorrow. So, maybe there will not be a blog for tomorrow, for the first time since I was in hospital in 2007. I think, but thinking is no longer a strong point for me. Hehe!

I took this snap on the left from the kitchenette window. I remembered to cause
I knocked a jar of mushroom ketchup off the window ledge, and it landed on my . 
Not that it bothered me at all. I merely laughed it off and started singing to myself.
Then, I took another memory, prompting a snap of my beloved tree copse. I may have used the wrong photo here, or the computer posted the wrong one? Anyway, taking this snap hurt me more than the toe incident.

Then I realised that the sun covering Khagoule had fallen into the water jug on the floor.
So, I had to hang it on the shower curtain in the wet room to help it dry out. I also turned on the heater to encourage it to dry.

I visited the Porcelain Throne as well. Trotsky Terence was in control.
It was a messy job that took a long time because there was no hot water. Did I mention I’d left the hot tap running earlier?

The sun died temporarily while I was fetching water from the kettle, and walking with the walking stick was a bit risky.

I got some potatoes into the slow cooker that I forgot to tell you about earlier. 08:00hrs approximately) There are no secrets on this WordPress blog, Inchy Today!

I’m back on this blog after checking, updating and posting yesterday’s post to WordPress. Then, I started on this post.

I’ll check the potatoes. This is going to be a long job. Turn them (if ready), put them in the basin, bash them up, add no-butter butter, sea salt, Worcestershire, and Soy sauce, and then the tricky bit: grate and mix in Leicester cheese. Put the mixture in the oven and cook until the top has crispened. Prep[ping took me 35 minutes, and the washing things up after took me over half an hour.
I pray I don’t let them burn… Please!

It took me hours to get the potatoes sorted and mashed with the shredded Leicester cheese and red onions. I found evidence in the morning, blood on the fridge door that indicated a cut thumb or fingernail) I washed the pots and put the dish into the oven to crisp it up nicely. This usually takes a good half-hour. Here it is before cooking.
Carer Joe arrived as I was putting it in.
Medications issued. Joe said we would start sorting out tomorrow in the junk room. He’ll take the laundry down to the washer, come back, and we can sort the clothes out. This will free up many coat hangers. Because there are so many trousers, jumpers, shirts, and coats that no longer fit me. They don’t call me Mr Blobby for no reason, you know. Haha! He should have time to nip down, get the laundry in the dryer, and dry it for once. Joe’s got it all organised beforehand, which is a great help.

The potatoes were removed from the oven and put on a tray with some bread. I added some cut tomatoes, and I settled into the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV to eat the meal.
It took me a while to eat it all, but I did!
Then, heaven… Zzz!
Carer Ejaz woke me up two hours later.
He removed my diabetic socks and mended the nocturnal catheter-damaged day bag. He also added a tube from another point to the current one. I checked the kitchen and bathroom and got my head down, but I forgot to put the nocturnal catheter pouch on. It’s hard to believe, I know.

So, when I was woken up by the pain from poor Little Inchie being tugged on with the weight as the pouch filled up, I had to get up to empty the pouch post-haste. Could I get back to sleep? No! 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
But it didn’t Bother Me, Hehe!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –