Political Ode

Inchy Today: Sunday 20th July 2025

/ Inchie / 7 Comments

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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.
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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.

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Be Good, Be Well, & Bless You!
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Inchy’s Ode: Wednesday 11th June 2025

/ Inchie / 15 Comments

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Not my best effort, but the beauty is still evident.
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I used to be an abstentionist,
Till Starmer arrived with his Tory habits,
Bringing Keir’s bureaucracy,
Ruling backhandedly, rigidly,
He lies so well and repeatedly,
As PMs go, he’s the most antihumanistic,
His waffles are unintelligible & anticlimactic,
Making voters most antagonistic,
Starmerishly: insincerely; obsequiously, Sycophantically, unscrupulously, & deviously,
Often proving his own sincerity,
A scamster, defalcator, backhander-taker,
It’s time to bring in the undertaker!
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Yet another night of ever-jumping-awake, despite my tiredness, which helped me get back to sleep after each jerking awake in a reasonably short time. But there were so many of them.  Dark Dank Depression Duncan came into the equation, and the periods of bliss were getting shorter every time. 
I gave up and clambered out of the £300 second-hand shop-bought in 1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner.
I noted that the catheter’s nocturnal drainage pouch urine was a lighter colour for a change this morning. Last night’s overtiredness had left some of its debris, and it took a while for me to gain semi-clarity, but I did.
I gathered the health-checking gear together and started doing the Ticker, Blood, temp’ & oxygen test. The results varied somewhat; the blood tests were an improvement in the last few days.
However, just look at the SYS and BP results above.
Not very encouraging, are they?
03:40hrs: I decided to get my ablutions & medications done early. The pot marks in the lower regions from the catheter contraption straps, tubes, and bits had started bleeding, so I’ll need to use the Porcelain Throne, shave, and shower, and all the creams, drops, sprays, and ointments will be tended to as well. It’s a good thing I got up early then. I removed the catheter’s muslin bag, but I couldn’t find the one that I’d washed yesterday. (Nothing unusual there). I’d like to concentrate on the ablution tasks, not wanting any more knocks or tumbles. Thank you very much.

I must admit, I got the muslin bag off of the leg with no bother at all! The cartilage pain seemed to be on holiday. Hehe!
Another bonus is that I didn’t leave the hot water tap dripping away overnight this time. Started on the throne, another long job. Still, minimal cleaning up is needed. Although, I did notice that the walking stick’s ferrules were leaving dark marks on the wetroom floor. I used the four-pronged Metal Mickey stick. I’ll have to give that a wash afterwards; it made a right mess.
Got the teggies done. The teeth are so rotten that pain from Toothache-Tiffany was inevitable.

The shaving went so well, just one teeny weeny nick on my neck. Next, the shower.

Again, I was amazed at the lack of Accidauxpas and or Whoopsiedangleplops! I thoroughly enjoyed that shower. It would have been even better, but when I went to sit on the shower chair after scrubbing my flabby body and skinny legs, Cartilage Choe snapped painfully. I would not risk bending the knee enough to sit on that low chair. Still, no moaning. It was a good session under the shower all the same. I was expecting a tumble, slip, a bruising knock or something of that ilk throughout. But I escaped the shower, turned the power off, got a towel from the heater ready to dry myself off, and realised how well things had really gone up to now. This put me in ‘Alert Mode’. I dried off, using paper towels for the catheter bag. Now for the medications.

I started with the medicationings. And again, things went well once more, well, obviously not the Ointmenting of Little Inchies fungal lesion. That is usually the major paingiver. Harold’s Haemorrhoids handle the Germoloid ointment well. My Spanish Onion-sized right testicle almost welcomed the Savlon creaming. I couldn’t reach all the barrier cream-needing areas. I’ll ask the Carer to do them later for me. Then, seeing the ferrule marks reminded me to wash the four-pronged Metal Micky, the walking stick.
I let him soak in the sink for a while with spirit vinegar, bleach and washing-up liquid mixed in.
But the towel and togs in the laundry basket, and got a khagoule on.
Then went back with a stiff brush to clean Wally’s ferrules in the wetroom.
It took a bit of effort, but I appreciated that I’d had no Whoopsies of any kind during the ablutions – this had not happened for months!
I remained on ‘Alert Mode.’

I filled bottles of spring water and a brew of 99 tea. Then, I got the computer on. But not for long. I got an unexpected rumbling-innards call back to the Porcelain Throne. How did things soften up so quickly? This is all a part of the mysteries of this block of flats, with the apparitions, phantoms, succubi and the paramnesias, who torment residents… well, me, anyway! Hahaha!

Carer Ejaz came. Full-body check and barrier cream were applied where I couldn’t reach the areas.

Blogging.
Only one recognised seizure. Up to now.
Carer Joe; laundry taken down. Letters opened. He rang the Audio place about the appointment I’d missed. Medications, Peptac given.

Got something to eat, bacon sarnies, and fell swiftly asleep. Zzzz!

Early Little Nosh

Late Little Nosh

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TTFNski Each
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Inchy Today: Friday 16th May 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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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!
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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.
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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!
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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
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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!
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👍🏻 Keep Well, & Happy! 👍🏻
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Inchy Today: Tuesday 13th May 2025

/ Inchie / 14 Comments

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SMUG-MODE ENGAGED
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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!
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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! 

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But it didn’t Bother Me, Hehe!
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Inchy: Sunday 11th May 2025

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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Into power Starmer did hurdle,
Now, we await his downward hurtle,
He looks mundane, boring and sensible,
Proved winning power was accomplishable,
At lying, he’s fluently forked-tongueable,
Truth to him is customisable,
Like his excuses, taking treats from Arsenal,
Despite his proving to be adorkable,
His stealing from pensioners was awful!
To him, greed & dishonesty is normal,
I’m in decrial; he has my disapproval…
Unfortunately, he’s unremovable,
Despite his dishonesty & being dubitable,
Despite proving to be adorkable,
Taking backhanders, & acquisitional,
I’m bald, but he makes my hair bristle!
I’d like to meet him, in a quiet twitchel…
To declare my feelings, which are emotional,
I stew in hatred, sink into a dwall,
All I can do is write anti-Starmer doggerel!
The scum-ball makes me so epithetical,
I’ve never known a PM so pathetical…
I hope his reign will be expediential,
This Labour party; can it be extirpable?
To socialism, he’s not endemical,
His policies seem enigmatical,
I can’t see a party that could be a rival.
Tories? Sunak turned them suicidal,
LibDems and Greens, both hopeful,
Reform, a far-right furuncle?
Starmer’s a bully, so says his uncle,
Words not to describe Keir? Affable & merciful,
Starmer’s end may be happenstantial!
Send a bottle of gin laced with weedkiller?
Naughty, but I’d like to see his funeral,
I’d love to be there at his beheadal,
Good heavens, I brought on a smile!
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Labour admits disability cuts will force 250,000 people (including 80,000 children & pensioners) into poverty.

Keir Starmer’s Labour Government are cutting almost £ 5 billion from the Welfare budget via targeted attacks on the sick and disabled. This will include excluding young disabled people (aged 18–21) from incapacity benefits. This “Spring Statement” has finally revealed the Labour Government’s impact statement. It says that more than 1,000,000 disabled people will lose their disability benefits.

The Labour attack on disability benefits will ultimately push 250,000 people (including 50,000 children) into poverty. It’s a sickening and frightening situation for hundreds of thousands of disabled Brits.

Awful. 
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04:14hrs: Sorted the catheter contraption bags.

Carer Ejaz appeared as I was starting the computer.
He did a good job. He medicated the catheter strap wounds and those on the left wrist and arm.
Then, I put on the diabetic socks. Ejaz graded the nocturnal catheter wee-wee. He quickly checked the torso for bruises and creamed a couple of them.
He checked the taps and stoves and reported that I’d left the hot water tap running. Tsk!

So, no ablutions were able to be done this morning! But the first call to the wetroom.

Took this snap…
Just as Cartilage Chloe gave way, I hit my elbow on the way down against the radiator.
Landing on Cartilage Carole’s right knee, the strap on the catheter contraption shot off, and the tube gave poor Little Inchie a hell of a tug! Naturally, I just laughed it off.
Getting into the other room on all fours was painful, as I was trying to hold onto the loose strap to prevent another tugging session!
Naturally, I just laughed it off.
After what felt like an hour or more, I had to leave the walking stick behind. I got to 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.
Naturally, I just laughed it off.
Hauling my flobby-wobbly body up onto the recliner, I twisted to get myself to sit down. I soon recovered enough, rose gingerly onto my feet, and hobbled back to the kitchen to get the walking stick. I pressed on… – right against the ingrowing toenail again!
Naturally, I just laughed it off.
After giving off a howl, growl, and a bit of swearing, I reclaimed the walking stick.
I caught the wristlet alarm and set it off!
Naturally, I just laughed it off.
A few fibs above, I believe!

I took this snap and sat down for some R&R.

Carer Joe woke me for the early afternoon call. Not that I could recall much about it.

I sat down again, nibbled some crisps, and returned to the computer.

I heard the intercom chiming and got up to find it was Carer Rosma. The watch told me it was eight o’clock. Which my befuddled brain thought was in the morning. (I now know it was evening), and I did not have the medications? I thought that Carer Rosma had got the time wrong.
I’m not sure what happened there, but I did post Saturday’s blog and started on this without recalling doing either!
Seizures? Effects of the tumble? Arithmaphobia? Did I fall asleep? Ménière’s disease? FND?

Very few photos were taken. Oh, dearie me

The notepad had a fair bit of scribble, with very little being decipherable. 

Community Nurse Rebbeca on her unexpected visit. She checked the cartilage strappings. She said, “If you have any trouble, call me.” What about? A total mystery to me. I didn’t get any Warfarin because I thought it was morning and had a vague recollection, which I put on the blog earlier, that Carer Joe had been. A worrying episode!
I must remember to ask Joe about it in the morning or whenever he calls. And add it to the Doctor problems to take with us during the appointment.

Honestly, I can’t recall taking these incredible clouds

I went to look for what to have for my meal and found I’d made a microwave meal and put it in the fridge. I’m a bit concerned now.

No wash or shave. Lost hours in the day. Took a tumble. Left the hot water tap running. Exceedingly weird seizures and loss of time & events. 

I’ll get the fodder from the fridge and hopefully catch up in the morning.

For the first time, I was uneasy about my new form of complete time confusion, and realising it was morning when it was night took me a long time. Time, clock, and numbers could indicate that my arithmaphobia is getting more severe. Sorting out the memory timewise almost hurt my brain. I kept skipping between the believed wrong time and returning to the present, inevitably suffering another trip out of the real-time zone repeatedly. And momentarily, if not for longer. I felt positive I was in the correct period. This made working things out even harder. Hopefully, a nurse or even the Doctor may read this, appreciate the severity and the worry it brings, and get me an earlier appointment to see the Doctor.

In the morning, I tried to explain the time discrepancies to Carer Ejaz as best I could.
I’m not convinced he cottoned onto what I was saying. No feedback.

Bean stew with added pickled water chestnuts and brown gungo beans.
TASTY!

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TTFNski!
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Inchy Today: Friday 25th April 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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– – – Another good week so far! – – –
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Do you usually take the bait?
Or do you weigh up the odds and wait?
Do you think life is hell or bittersweet?
Political Parties, who were bivariate,
Now, there’s Starmer’s shower, & he’s variate,
I wouldn’t say he was inadequate…
Mayhap a little ignorant and inquorate,
Despite his backhanders, he looks lanate,
The Tories, now powerless to negate…
Herr Starmer’s a political novitiate,
No politician can stop or obdurate…
Nobody to challenge him, to objurgate,
As Prime Minister, he’s illegitimate,
His lies got him in power to infuriate…
Kier should be easy to mock and humiliate,
He should not wait to hibernate…
He has no moral convictions to incapacitate,
No guilt, no shame, no loss of face to illustrate,
He loves to regulate but not reevaluate,
His robbing of pensioners will reverberate,
His own HMG rules he does violate,
If his lies continue, he’ll vermiculate,
His lies are ignored, as with Watergate,
I don’t think he’s anyone’s mate!
His dishonesty is too complex to mitigate,
Only gloom for the UK’s proletariat,
His underhandedness can only be profligate,
The proletariat, Keir does provocate…
His lies, he continues to replicate,
Lies by omission on autorepeat,
Before each move, they collectively machinate,
Thesaurus consulted for compassionate…
They all already know how to spell desperate,
Trying to avoid using misappropriate,
Grabbing everything that companies donate,
MP’s expenses are ignored; they do not noviciate,
Starmer continues to confuse & obfuscate,
He’s a clever con man, a tergiversator…
Cunning defrauder, liar, and defalcator,
Hustler, bustler, shyster, & backhand-taker,
A true Labour voter dissapointer & alienator,
One more thing about our new Prime Minister…
He’s a two-faced, double-dealing ambidexter!
I hope I don’t get a visit from his barrister?
To sue me for defamation of character…
He can come to see me, we can have a natter…
If he finds time amidst his backhanding colloquia,
Getting his lagniappes, donations & baksheeshes,
He stole my fuel allowance, but does it matter?
May I express my thoughts about him? A conspirator! 
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Contrails in the sky!

Not a very good one.

Contrails gone.

That’s a bit better now.

The clock belatedly changed.

FOOD!

Early evening.

Absolutely Lovely!

Late night; Mixed clouds?

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TTFN, Each! 
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Inchy Today: Tuesday 22nd April 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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– – POLITICAL – –
Tuesday, 22nd April 2025, 9:30. 0. 0.
What do I see today, politically?
Alcoholically, ablutionary, & apocalyptically!
Backhanders taken, greedily,
Compassion? Only adumbratively…
Questions answered deviantly,
<<<>>><<<>>>
Top of Starmer’s gaffes,
“Sausages” instead of “hostages”!
Showing his gaffe addictiveness,
He shows tendencies of being anorakish,
Some decisions made, are cartoonish!
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His gaffes can always be worked around,
His lies leave voters spellbound,
Not denied, just juxtapositioned,
He thinks everything he’s done is sound,
Price rises, are not propound!
<<<>>><<<>>>
The Tories are now but a bugaboo…
To come back, they must be true-blue!
Their defeat for me, was a blanscue,
I knew what Labour were going to do…
Win the election! More price rises are due!
<<<>>><<<>>>
Bet they’ve got gelt on some archipelago,
Fiddle expenses, take backhanders too,
More & more dosh they seem to accrue,
Gas, electricity cost rises for us though,
Food, bread, spuds, up, even cocoa!
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I unwillingly got up at 05:00hrs.
Removed the nocturnal catheter pouch.
Got up and nearly fell back down again.
Gave way on me.
She did this again a couple of hours later. But I was in the hallway at the time, taking the groceries, so the walls saved me that on that occasion.
Next, a rare prolonged visit from .
As far as I could tell, I’d had no seizures of any type or kind up to now.

I took a photo of the calendar clock to include here later, after resizing it to fit the page.
Took a blue-view photo from the kitchen.
Cloudless! But not for long.

Sorted the waste bags and got them to the waste chute, but stopped myself in time. It was too early to use it yet, for fear of waking somebody living below as the bags tumble the twelve floors to the bin. I returned to the flat, and made up three one litre drinks to satisfy the demands from the bladder & catheter. I used soda water ones. One with some lemon in to flavour it, one with orange cordial, and the last one with Tango orange. Each one also had a sprinkling of bicarbonate-of-soda added.

I downloaded the photos I had already taken to CorelDraw. It took me some time to get the computer to save the files, but I eventually managed to do so.

The intercom came to life. It was the Asda order arriving. The driver packed the lose goods into carrier bags for me. I insisted had picked a drink for himself before he left.
Plenty to pick from.

I started packing the things away, planning to take photos of the food as I emptied the bags.
I walked Carer Ejaz. He hurried me to get the things away, so no chance for many photos. I took two before he arrived. He fitted the diabetic socks, issued the prescription medications, checked the taps, and verified the food dates.

So, I opened the cupboard doors, the fridge, and so on, to take shots of them when he had gone.

First photo.

Second snap. Asda didn’t have two of the breads in stock, so it looks likely I’ll never buy a loaf of my favourite one, the sliced milk roll. Humph!
The fridge.

The freezer.

Top cupboard,

Bottom cupboard.

I got the stew of the day, a vegetarian started.
Doing it in the slow-cooker this time.
Onions, carrots, mushrooms, gravy pot, gungo beans, pickled black peas, pickled water chestnuts, & a tin of garden peas, with some Gung Po added. Left it on a low light for two hours, then turned it up.

Got the ode sorted out and posted it on the blog. 
Feeling tired now.

Carer Joe arrived at 13:15hrs. He rang British Gas again and got through this time, after a long wait, but he did say they were playing jazz music. Hehe! 
Not sure how much the call will cost me, but the lad was on it for a long time. He eventually got through the hoard of human messages, and spoke to someone. He said it has been sorted now. Thanks, Joe.

I went into the kitchenette to turn up the heat for the stew and added some tinned potatoes That I had sliced up. The juice was tasty.

Back in the main rubbish room, I emptied the catheter day pouch into the jug… and…
I was bent down released and kept hold of to shake the exit switch, and Lost Balance Brutus had me over.
The urine ended up on the carpet with me!
Cartilage Chloe, Arthur Itis Len on the left knee, and bashing my arm against the chair as I fought my way back onto my feet after the tumbled, offered as much pain as I ever want to handle again. The day was going so well, as well!
However, it worsened even further for the knees and back. All that bending to soak up the wee as fast as I could. It took me ages to get it anywhere near dry. 
Then, I sprayed the fabric conditioner and fresh air spray around, I on the corner of the ottoman. Aargh! Needless to say, !

Then, as I recovered from the incident and had cleaned it up as best I could, I returned to blogging. Shot up the leg, as far as my groin. Fair enough, they eased off a lot, and were barely reaching the knee. Then the shocks cut out, and cold tingling sensation took over.

Sister Jane rang. We had a natter. She has glaucoma now, bless her. We spoke about football and swapped tales from the past.

I went to put the thin dressing gown on the kitchen window, as the sun was blooming again. I rechecked the stew, nowhere near ready yet, might be an hour or two at least. I left it on high.

Went on the WR Reader, then the comments.

I’ll have to have the meal after the Carer has been. It’ll never be ready in time to eat it first. This leaves me with the pressure (not really) of remembering to put on the night catheter pouch. What am I saying. I am a fool! Somehow, I thought it was 20:45, and it isn’t. It’s 16:45! And it’s the third visit!

Bootiful Puffer Clouds.

I went to get some more cleaners to try again at removing the accidental urine Accifauxpa scent from the carpet.
And found the Rhodesian (as was, it’s now Zimbabwe) police officer truncheon. 1962 I got this.

Joe, then Ejaz made the last two calls.

Grammarly is not working properly; no spell checks are being made. 

NOSH

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TTFN, Each! 
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Inchy: Monday 14th April 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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THE HAZE/HASH OF OUR HMG!
I faced adversity catastrophes, indomitably,
Searching for success, I found extinction,
Been shot, heart attack & bankruptcy,
Recognised politicians showed prevarication,
They rule unreliably and lyingly…
Take backhanders with pretension,
Reliable? Each one is a proletariat’s liability,
Growing their wealth in HMG’s pantheon!
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Starmer lines his pockets, carefreely,
Lie, steal from pensioners, Scot-freely!
Prices are rising for food, gas & electricity,
Keir does it all so perfunctorily, blasély,
Surely, he’s an under-the-bed Tory?
His price rises show his peccability,
The voters he scoffs at dismissively,
Proletariats get poverty and penury!
>>>>><<<<<
Who voted for him, primarily plebian…
Realise now, it shouldn’t have been,
He’s mendacious, criminal, immoral & mean!
Keir’s term in office: a trial by ordalian,
Starmer got 3m votes, fewer than Corbyn,
Still enough to give him a win,
That was due to the Tory’s suiciding,
Citizens’ fears are accumulating!
>>>>><<<<<
His lies, there’s not been an investigation,
He shows no signs of any opprobrium,
A man of obfuscation and deception,
No prosecution, just mystification…
Civil Service & HMG are both crooked,
Their guilt, either hidden or resolved,
Most of what they’ve done, I anticipated,
Starmer should be sacked & becudgelled!
>>>>><<<<<
He claims to be a necessitarian,
I think that he’s Machiavellian!
Ill-conceived, ill-advised, & misbegotten,
There’s no hope, no pharma-conation,
As he strangles voters of the Nation,
I’m not saying he’s a pigwidgeon…
Nor a patrician, but a man on a mission,
To take backhanders & make commission!
>>>>><<<<<
He’s worthy of, and gets my derision,
Mayhap the Lord’s resurrection…
Along with our citizens quiritation…
Can bring about, Starmer’s retrogression,
Force him into his own rescission?
Free us of Keir, the self-rhetorician?
Give him a thorough scrutinisation,
But of course, this will not happen!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
CATCH UP
Owing to my plans to get a wash and sit-down when the fatigure-fell yesterday teatime, I got nowt done on the computer again for the rest of the night.
I thought I’d fall asleep and get a few hours in before the last Carer’s call, then restart doing the blog.

Instead, I had God knows how many mini-seizures but no actual sleep. Three hours later, Carer Ahmed arrived. Said I was, sitting there mumbling to myself and breathing heavily, with my eyes open. Once I got up, I felt so drained. I nearly fell back down again. But Ahmed was as quick as a flash and stopped me from plumping back into the 1966, £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.
He got my diabetic socks off my feet, issued the medications and checked the taps and oven for me. After the lad left, 
I went to the kitchen to make a meal. Boy, was I tired out and drained.
I took these fantastic puffer cloud shots.

Minced beef with black beans.
Some seasoned unskinned chips.
Lovely!
A cornet of ice cream afterwards. I’d made
too much again. Well, not much!
But at least I didn’t spill any.
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How can one be so drained and tired but not get to sleep? Horrible night. Forever jumping awake within minutes of the odd nodding off’s that I got.
I gave up and got up at 05:00hrs.
Sorted the waste bins. Then the big task began.
What a session. There is no other word for it. Great!
A cutless shave, absences of , , , & . I’ll add  because she did not kick off until later.

The medicationalising was not too bad, but no worse than of late. Until, of course, it came to the last task, ointmentating and rubbing it in poor suffering . I creamed where I could reach of the ribs & backs  . Again, I could not get those on my back. I’ll ask the Carer if he can help when he arrives. At least I have a good stock of new barrier cream in the drawer. 
I must have taken longer than I thought on these tasks. As I got the PPS on without much of a struggle, I’d like to add, and was getting the Kagoule on, the Carer Ahmed arrived.

Ahmed was on good form this morning. Medications were issued, and my diabetic socks were fitted. 
He then applied barrier cream to my back and ribs, using the last of the old tubes of Derma Cream. Achmed liked doing this job and was good at it. He then sprayed the glaucoma spray on my eyes for me. I’ll call him Dr. Ahmed from now on. Hehehe! He asked for another local accent word, and I gave him ‘Kip’ for a sleep or nap. I’ve given one a day for a few days. The first was ‘Tara” for cheerio. He said he had used it with other clients this morning, and they loved it. Hearing that cheered me up. Yesterday, it was ‘Aye-Up.’ I think the other one was ‘Midduck’. No, that one’s for tomorrow.

Ahmed took a photo of me with a Kodak-Tim-1.
He’d drawn the curtains, knowing how the sunlight affects Glaucoma Gladys.
He thought I looked like a Mafia Boss. Haha!

I grafted away on the Ode making and got it finished.
Then, I updated and posted the Sunday blog. During the morning, I took these snaps from the kitchen.
The shadows from the rising sun from the back of the flats made some of them enjoyable.
The painted houses. If not, I might not see them.
My block of flats’ shadow in this one.
Took later.

Carer “Joe” arrived. He did a grand job of helping again, bless him. He rang the surgery to see if I could get an appointment for any Wednesday, his more extended visit laundry day. 3rd on the waiting list. Got through and he tried his best, but the earliest Wednesday might be 4 weeks wait, and he wasn’t sure if the Doctor could fit it in for the times that Joe was here. Chances were getting dimmer. I suggested that perhaps she could give me a call at home. Yes, but not on a Wednesday. I ended up with her ringing on Monday the 28th between 10 & 11:45hrs. In 14 days. Going well for the NHS, innit? We had to agree; there was no other choice, had we?

Computing was going very slow today.

Carer “Joe” returned to the first evening call. Again, he helped out no end. He called the chemist and arranged for the medications to be sent to his company’s chemist for collection. I’m lost with all these changes. Thank heavens for Carer “Joe”!

It’s already 20:00hrs gone. I’ll make a meal and try to catch up in the morning.

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Fare Thee All Well!
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Inchy (Unwell) Today: Friday 21st March 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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I’ve never seen an elephant or a zony,
A giraffe, or been to Hungary…
Or why we all live xenophobically,
I know if Starmer gets his way…
Pensioner’s food will be xerophagy!
<<<>>>
Oh, last night’s kip, seizure after seizure!
Accompanied with agony from Anne Gyna,
I was a nocturnal cougher & sneezer,
Sleepless, confused, unwell, a sad geezer,
So bad, I was prepared for my sepulchre!
<<<>>>
Hard to breathe, a cough and an atchoo!
My moving and thinking was so adagio,
What I was or needed to do, I didn’t know!
Nocturnal seizures, I’ve only had two…
Both were in bed. Is it a bugaboo?
<<<>>>
My brain & body needed to be examined,
At first, I felt really succussed,
The carer came, this was discussed,
He reported to HQ, well, he must…
They didn’t mention my psychosis,
<<<>>>
I said no help was needed,
Though I may have been deluded,
Then, the carer departed,
I became far less bothered,
So quickly, I suddenly breathed!
<<<>>>
My dizziness, & balance improved,
With Anne Gyna, I was not affected,
It took a minute to feel jubilated,
Gone, I was, no longer seizured,
Sadly, later, Anne Gyna feasted!
<<<>>>
ADMISSIONS
I’ve blundered, blabbed & believed,
Got angry, annoyed, been aggrieved,
Begloomed, begrimed & becharmed,
Shoplifted, got shot twice, was sacked,
In 1950, I was abducted,
By a neighbour, I was snatched…
I believe her name was Winifred,
A Welsh lady who took me to her bed,
Her groping, I found unmatched,
Her house I frequently frequented,
I didn’t realise what we practised,
But I was sorely satisfied!
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After each Nocturnal Seizure, clearing my head and senses was a long job. Balancing was a farce. Anne Gyna was playing ball with me. From getting up, it was a confusing and worrying 4 hours before the Carer arrived. The Carer rang his HQ to report my condition. Eyesight blurred, coughing and sneezing, phlegm coming up, dizzy, and most things that I was suffering from cannot be remembered. I think I was finding it a job to talk as well. At one stage, I spoke with a lady from the Carer organisation. Can’t recall what was said.
Once the Carer departed, my head slowly cleared, and my vision improved after taking the medication. I took an extra Codeine & Paracetamal.
I’ve got photos on the SD card that I cannot recall taking. Maybe the seizures continued with the mini-ones. The day flashed by. I didn’t start this ode until around 15:00hrs when I started the odes.
After this, I may need to give WP a rest.
After three nights of broken sleep, then last night’s nocturnal Seizures, I must try to get some sleep. I realise my thousands of fans will be disappointed, and I apologise to both of you. Hehe!
I’m so far behind it hurts!

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I NEED SLEEP!
Dear Lord, I won’t bellyache.
At best, my life’s been bittersweet,
I don’t mean to moan & bleat…
Three days under the bedsheet,
Mostly in pain and wideawake,
And not a moment’s sleep,
Anne Gyna & Sandra’s Seizures compete,
I pray you to hear me speak,
I don’t intend to offer critique,
Sleep: or ensure I don’t reawake.

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Well, it’s time to get summat to eat. I originally decided to have two lamburgers on cheesy-topped rolls. My taste buds tingled at the thought.
I couldn’t have made a proper meal anyway because I forgot to tell the carer not to put the nocturnal bag on yet. I could have made the meal without the dangers of using the walking stick and cooking simultaneously. I got the burgers in the oven; they should take 35 minutes to cook.
Then I returned to the computer and did the Ode To Sleep. Forgetting all about the burgers.
I got a whiff of the burning food!

So, I ate some Cheez-it crackers and nuts as sustenance for tonight.

Photos of the day. In order as taken, I think.
First one.
My beloved tree copse.

Cavendish Vale

CorelDraw problems again.

This might be out of sync timewise?

Green skies, as well.
I’m colour-blind on red/greens, so you
may not see the colour I do.
Protanopia: This is a severe form of
red-green colour blindness where 
individuals are unable to perceive
red lights at all. 
I looked this up on my NHS list.
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After the last two nights of sleeping in bed, the nocturnal seizure stopped any silly thoughts of sleeping. So, after burning my lamburgers, don’t think that this pissed me off and got me all angry and annoyed with myself. I wet back to using 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, in hopes of nodding off.
Well, it was great! Five straight hours without interruption. Until and kicked off.
Five hours is more than I’ve had over the last three days.
No bother from , , or either of the Cartilages. !

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Flaunt a Fiesta Full of Funny Frivolity!
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Inchy Today: Thursday 13th March 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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– – TO THE WORLD – –
Affluence, finance, profit, I find anticlimactic,
Do I need help? Possibly neuropsychiatric?
The end of the world, although slightly dramatic,
Will it be wars or maybe something pathogenic?
It’s easy for us now to retrodict,
Did the end start with the launch of Sputnik?
Then the Cold War, the Berlin lift,
Leaders became warmongers, without a shamanic,
Of course, I write with the pen of a pedantic,
The need for alcohol and drugs to be romantic,
Humankind is to blame, clearly; it’s apodictic,
I can’t really say that this is pathetic…
Living life for pleasure, the pace is frenetic…
Citizens live or die, it’s all aleatoric,
Children crushed hiding in an attic…
No food, medications for the dying asthmatic,
Young, old, Anti-Muslim, anti-Semitic,
Terrorist Governments, Anders Breivik,
Warmongers reign, ruling more absolutistic,
Putin and Starmer are over bureaucratic…
Their compassion is theoretical, hypothetical,
Repeatedly, innocents slain, it’s almost archaic,
Families, babies, running, hiding, antidromic…
In fear, mayhap, of something atomic?
We don’t look the same; we’re not concentric…
Humans, surely we’re kindred, congeneric?
Oligarchs, weapon suppliers formed a clique,
I can see a link to things dinosauric…
The state of the world is almost phantasmagoric,
They don’t see the dangers; they’re altruistic,
We voted them into power, is it time to quetch?
Politicians self-empowering remain recidivistic,
If we all worked for peace, it would be soporific,
If this dream could come true, it’d be terrific!
We’ve no chance of ridding ourselves of the sadistic,
That makes me feel even more pessimistic…
I’ll have to stop here; I’ve got problems urologic!
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Up to the neck in it. Computer problems again.
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A seven onb the NHS Richter-Scale card. Hehe!

I went into the kitchen to make a brew and had to try again to take a decent moon shot. With such a dark sky, my hopes were high. Not really!
Ah, well!

Handwashed the thin dressing down.

Off to the wet room.
I started with the usual seated part of the session.

The saving brought only one cut worth mentioning.
The medicationing went fine! Really! Honest!
However, when getting the fresh PPs on;
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I took a selfie a few minutes later with Kodak Tim 2.

From the computer, many things go wrong after the Windows update was installed. I wasted hours & hours!

The Carer arrived, Akmad or Joe, Akmad I think. 

A late afternoon shot with Kodak Tim 2,
Can anyone see the creature’s face in these clouds that I can? The late Carer found it straight away. But not the other one. Nor did the nurse… I think that she thought I was pulling her leg. Until I pointed out the facial features.

I prepped the meal for later cooking.
It’s a bit of a mixture. I hope it will taste better than last night’s terrible, inedible effort. I sliced some water chestnuts with a can of beef stew with a microwave chilli con carne. I left it in the microwave cooking box in the fridge.

Then, I crossed my fingers and went on WP to start this blog. Will it let me put the early photos on, but several I took before the food snap would go on as some other file?

I have no idea what will happen. The preview is correct, but it’s all a frustrating mystery to me.

Calm looking evening.

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Guten Tag!
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