Inchcock Diary & Ode to Putin, Tuesday 7th June 2022

Tuesday 7th June 2022

07:30hrs: Woke wanting a wee-wee. I thought it would never come; it must have been 15hrs without one. It was hardly worth it, a painful sprinkle or two. At least the bladder is working again, so fingers crossed!

I set, too, giving myself a medical MOT. And taking ‘As needed’ non-prescription medications. There is no need for ointmentating this morning, No Little Inchies fungal lesion or Harold’s Haemorrhoids bleeding whatsoever! Excellent results on the blood pressure machine, best for ages!

The only thing not so good was the body temperature. That was way down low again. Been under the NHS’s recommended 35°c for a few days now. I don’t feel poorly; I am a lot chirpier in myself this morning. Although I felt so cold when it obviously isn’t?

I took some under-tongue CBS oil. And a Hemp capsule too.

Got the ears well saturated with the Olive oil. Let it sink in, and then I filled up the canals with more. This never seems to help, but I’ve got into the habit of doing it each morning now.

Then took a Dioctyl to help skid up the darned Porcelain Throne evacuations. Messy. Gooey, watery! Eurgh!

I got a few Warfarin tablets ready, so the carers will have some available for the evening doses.

Then, had a bash at syringing both ears. Not only a total waste of time; I failed to remove any wax at all, but I made such a mess I had

to clean up the water that had sprayed out off or missed the ears! Hehe!

Got the kettle on and sorted the laundry, not forgetting that talk-a-lot Esther would give me some hassle if it wasn’t ready and sorted when she arrived later this morning! Not that she scares me an anything like that, of course. Ahem!

I took this snap of the lovely morning sky with its ever-changing hues. Mother Nature, again shows us her beauty! The beauty we have been destroying for years.

Got the computer on and started on the WordPress reader and commenting, and the ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chime brought forth Carer Richard. I thought the lad was late coming; he’s had extra calls on again and was in a rush because he had a four-hour training session later when he finishes work with the Diabetes team to get through. No time for any good natterings today again. I think he felt guilty about it, so I tried to cheer him up, wished him all the best, and gave him a bag of treats. Then, I walked (well, hobbled) with Richard to the lift lobby and wished him well for the meeting.

Took this photo of the car park in front of Woodthorpe Court from the kitchenette window. Made a brew of Glengettie tea and was about to return to the computer with the nug of tea – but circumstances changed…

As usual with Neuropathy Pete, his timing caused the optimum amount of pain and hassle. An involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance made me drop the cup as I grabbed Metal-Micky and the side of the sink to keep from going over. Once more, it was over in seconds, but I still managed to clout my knee on the edge of a floor cupboard. Which awakened Cartilage Cathy in agony! Humph!

Sorted myself out and took an extra Codeine. And fond this photo of a meal from which I can’t work out? It was not a good photo in any way, shape or form, so it might be one that I meant to delete from the file?

Started on the Snippets blog, and the Iceland delivery arrived. I let him in through the intercom box in the hallway, and I cleared a path to put the bags into.

The driver took the bags through to the kitchen for me. Gave him a choice of plonk cans in thanks. He opted, I noticed, for the Rum and coke. Hehe! Good for him; I hope it cheered him up a smidge.

They sent the Rustlers for Richard, sugar snap peas, mushrooms and some new Pork & Pickle Bites. Three for a fiver, so they must be good. One for Josie, one for Richard and one for Esther. I got some small apples that, hopefully, my lesser-teethed mouth can manage to eat. Har-har! They had no small vine tomatoes in stock but have sent me a pack of large tomatoes, Dutch, that had a sell-by date for today. No charge!

The best thing they had sent was the No-Moo ice creams and No-Bull burgers. The best of any burgers I have tried! The ice cream is by far superior in taste to what one might call natural ice cream. Grrreat Flavour both! I’d have ordered more, but I dared not with Iceland’s record of crap unrelated substitutions!

I had another go at getting the Snippet Ode done. (I did get it finished, but not until I’d been grafting on it, on & off, for another nine hours!) Esther arrived and came talkingly into the room. She still wasn’t near enough for me to hear her, and I feared that she may have something vital as she went into the hall, front, and living rooms.

It’s not so bad when she’s face to face and not shouting at me rather than talking to me. Esther, bless her, has a habit of talking and carrying on. Esther keeps talking to me from the rear of my ear lobes as she turns away… the peace and quiet are nice. But there is always danger in this… She has a great memory and thinks because she’s told me something, I must have heard it and will remember it. (Both are impossible in my condition, Haha!)

Then, a week later, I get an ear-bashing from about 4 inches distance and am informed that “I told you that last week!” telling offs. Luckily I can rest assured that Esther will nip off into the other room to have a nosey around my boxes and occasionally iron a shirt… but talking to me all the time from the other room… still, I knew what to expect. Hehe! Obviously, I had forgotten something or not heard it. I’m glad I got the pork & pickle thingamabobs for her now. Giving her then assuaged her aggression. I joke, of course… Erm? She’s an angel, really.

I got the ready meal into the oven and had roughly 40 minutes before it was cooked. I must not fall asleep!

Back to doing the blog, I trudged. ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ rang out, and I wearily (Mentally) went to the door. It was Josie, returning the tray and things for me from the Sunday meal. Bless her cotton socks; she enthused over the taste of this Sunday’s chilli stew! That cheered me up a bit! She even asked if I used to be a chef? Oh dearie me! My EQ was nervous at this. Naturally, I had no idea why at the time. A feeling of foreboding matured…

I got on with the Snippet blogging again! So deep in concentration… still making errors after cock-ups, though. Then it dawned on me that the food was in the oven!!!

Grade A: It looked like this after I’d burnt my fingers getting the tray out of the oven post haste! Not good, is it? But I was so tired and weary that I still used it and made a meal of sorts out of it.

I added some BBQ sauce to the tray. Got some slices of Milk Roll bread, tomatoes and sugar snap peas onto the tray.

I was part mad at myself, well darned annoyed with myself, and so tired and drained, I didn’t get too agitated. Yet I still laughed at myself as I tried to dismantle the encrusted burnt meal to get at some edible bits of food. It helped in having some bread and sauce to soak some resuscitated bits to eat.

By the time I’d finished burnt food mining, which was tasty, believe it or not, bits of burnt food had been scattered far and wide on my stomach folds, down the pants, on the tray, and on the floor and recliner cushion. The carpet took on a new design; there were many black, ash-like bits of residue on it. I faced a long task in getting things sorted… and the kitchen and oven needed cleaning attention as well.

I was all in by the time I got things semi-put right. I made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana tea and ate a huge bowl full of veggie ice cream! I finished it and lay there as I dropped off to sleep – it was so good that I think I dreamed of sleeping…

♫Oh, Susana♫ Chimed out, and Carer Valerie came in. I’d been up and about for around 12 hours by then, and waking up after five minutes of sleeping was not what I wanted… Hehehe! I remembered to give Valerie her Pork & Pickle whatsits, though.

I felt awful but could not resist the urge to finish the blog. The internet went down… now I was getting annoyed!

I pressed on and got the Snippets blog finished at long last. It stayed that way; it was now gone midnight! I realised then that I had not done the ablutions today!

Humph!

ODE TO PUTIN

Is it true that hopes and expectancies are always there?
Putin’s are conspicuous, World Domination, I fear…
He’s somewhat of a Worldwide parcel courier?
Soon, bigger, dirtier packages will be sent, and nuclear…
Where will the scumball strike next? Europe and Asia, it’s unclear…
Anywhere, somewhere, possibly a country that’s weaker?

Is it true that he wears a lemon and pink brassier?
Shags Igor Sechin, his First Deputy Prime Minister?
He laughs at citizens dead or gathered for warmth around a brazier,
The man could not be any more selfish and crazier!

I insult the shithead cause there’s nothing else I can do…
But I would, if I could, send him a can of poisoned Irish stew,
I wonder if he likes it from his minions in his rear?
He’d like to make his competition dead or disappear?
What competition? He’s got more weapons & forces than we do…
He’s more soldiers in Moscow’s Red Square!

We cannot afford to send troops there…
We’ve not got enough, nor has anyone else, to be fair…
I wish we could send him Tony Blair…
Notice he’s not volunteered to do any damage repair?
Putin offers and hopes only for death and despair…
To the rest of the world, we can only die or forebear…
Unless you bribe him if you’re a financier?
Then he just might take a fancy to yer?

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

Local News Snippets: With Ode Comments, Part 11⅛th

Local News Snippets
With Ode Comments
Part 11⅛th

Nottinghamshire News

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

How many more people are the Government and Parole Boards going to get murdered? Why are the namby-pamby, battling for prisoners-rights, pathetic parole board members getting it wrong and freeing so many killers? Why do killers have so many rights? Other than to get to use the gallows, they should have none!

On March 9, 1950, a young Welshman living in London was sentenced to death for one of the worst crimes imaginable – the brutal murder of his wife and young child. After a whistle-stop trial lasting just three days, Timothy Evans was convicted and subsequently executed for the murder of his wife Beryl and 14-month-od daughter Geraldine. So, again, who was to blame?

And they do – REPEATEDLY!

Following the unmasking of Christie, a campaign led by many prominent journalists and newspapers sought to highlight what they said was a miscarriage of justice. Still, two official inquiries ordered by the Home Office found nothing wrong. The first, led by John Scott Henderson QC, upheld Evans’ conviction, concluding that Christie’s confession of murdering Beryl Evans was unreliable because it was made to support his defence that he was insane. The second, chaired by High Court judge Sir Daniel Brabin, found it was “more probable than not” that Evans murdered his wife and that he did not murder his daughter – contrary to the prosecution case in the original trial. Yet still, they get things wrong! Jailed ‘for life’ (Hahaha!), but freed to kill again: Shocking new data reveals that 149 criminals have joined the ranks of ‘double-lifers’ over the last ten years to kill again! Our legal systems gang of rich misfits are guilty themselves yet once more.

No wonder freed killers don’t target judges, lawyers or parole officers!

I wonder what would happen if they catch the scumball?
His lawyer will claim he’s going demential?
He took a pain pill once, and now he’s hooked on Ketamine Special?
His ten past convictions have only been financial?
He’s a Covid doctor and must keep his job; it’s essential?
An Auntie touched his knee; his emotions were conflictual?
He got raped by a male cat; unsure if he’s homosexual?
His teachers forced him to play football?
All he wanted was to be an intellectual?
Hit his head, twixt right and wrong are not recognisable?

Conning the judge? Easy, malleable, manageable, and manipulable!
The barrister tells him his clients’ past crimes are nullifiable…
He admits to this charge, for it is not deniable…
Really my client is the one who is pitiable…
He’s not stabbed or raped anyone for weeks; surely that’s praisable?
His motives were not malignant or questionable…
Although his actions he now finds regrettable…
Would a case of Glenfiddich 1937 be acceptable?

A potential trial in September?
Nothing about our legal system is certain,
Then October, maybe even November?
The judge has to break for tea and a frangipane,
Or not at all, unless the judge can keep sober…

And how long before this pair of shits is free again?
By the look of them, their dink must be high-octane…
They don’t look respectable or humane…
They ought to be stuck on top of a weathervane…
I’d sentence them both to an overdose of lidocaine…
I bet the soft judge sentencing, he’ll maintain…
While locked up, they cannot to innocents give pain…
They’ll be out, molesting, hurting and raping again!

An eighteen-year-old attacks five… Holy shit!
Hands and arms of officers and guards he bit?
Well, you can’t say he has no drive and spirit?
Every officer took some form of a kick or hit…
One guard thinks the lad broke a digit?
It took five of them to get him in the car, then the git…
Another officer got kicked on the chin; Gawdamit!
I hope the police carried a haematocrit!

Good heavens, what next! The Black Death?

A fifteen-year sentence?
With an 8-year extended licence?
Eh! What’s all this nonsense?
Chicanery or maybe ambivalence?
Hope it’s not the judges’ munificence?
I looked it up; it proves this judge has sentience!
The additional term in the nick… With I hope, quiescence!
To keep people safe from his concupiscence!
Fancy a judge showing some prospicience!

Looks decent to me?

Well, dang my eye, a conflicting report?
The changing figures seem a little distort…
One set gives fears, the other one comfort?
Still, I’m going to get myself all fraught…
I’ll chew on my bar of strawberry noughat!

What a dodgy looking set of villains!

Elizabeth Dodds, prosecuting, said the steroids, a class C drug, were worth between £90 and £120 on the outside, but in jail, the value increased tenfold up to £1,200. When questioned, Kirkland – who has 139 offences to her name, mainly for shoplifting – announced: “It was just tobacco.” Hahaha!

Alternative accommodation to be found?
Somewhere mayhaps snowbound or icebound?
Somewhere suitable six-foot underground?
Where food has to be begged for or scrounged?
Where freedom again will never be tasted or found!

Well, I’m back to my usual on the find three-houses competition,
Not that this encourages any mardiness or derision!
I never expected to win, although that would be a sensation!
If I was to win anything, I’d lose my identification…
As the unluckiest person in the world, in any Nation…
I’ve not won owt for donkey years; I’ve lost the motivation!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Late Snippet

13 and 12 months. Do they look like they’re bothered? No wonder I have no faith in the future. There will be more and more violence – and fewer and fewer deterrents.

The End Is Nigh!

Ah, well! I’d berra get summat to eat then.

Inchcock Today: Ode to Ageing Confusions – Part 1⅔rds Ending with Inchies Forecast for the World!

The Birthing of Inchcock

It had to come, he was welcomed unappreciatively,
By his Park Drive smoking mummy…
She dropped her fag ash all over Inchies tummy…
Sneered and told the Midwife, Emily…
“Don’t want it; throw it in the Trent straight away!”

Not the most pleasant welcoming lambing…
Midwife Emily, years later, fact confirming!
I asked Mother if it were true, her replying…
“Yea, but for a less than 3lb lump birthing…”
“You caused me a lot of hurting!”…
Then she started absconding… the police pursuing!

Schooling

The worst of all up then his schooling,
Him being so thick, no real educationing,
Each school day is dedicated to just surviving…
Avoiding teachers’ attention advancing,
Avoiding his touching and clutching…
And the gangs beating and bashings!

Working For a Living

Dad got him a job, morning newspaper delivering…
Then more rounds, Sundays and evenings…
Now he was more confused, earning a living,
At fourteen, he began his first proper working…
He did his best, never any shirking!

He wishes he’d been clever enough for apprenticing…
But he wasn’t, and this is no bullshitting…
16 now, interest grew in his ding-a-ling…
Joan, her name, a pretty little thing…
Who claimed she was about to be birthing…
At first, Inchcock thought of bragging…

He discovered that Joan did female wrestling…
While he wrote crap poems, wordsmithing…
T’was found that Joan had been lying…
She was not about to be multiplying!
For Inchy, there’ll be no betrothing!

Times, Depressing…

Memories of his failure, he keeps unearthing,
It’s himself his is mentally badmouthing,
He realised he was unlucky when around forty…
He’s grown old early, was getting more portly…
Depression grew worse shortly…

He needed mental stimulus strengthening…
He’s still not had any at seventysomething…
He’d hoped for better luck but didn’t win a farthing!
Did the lottery for many years, never won anything…
Won the pools one week, though, amazing!

Not a lot, hardly enough for bequeathing,
2/6d – (12½p) winnings he would be receiving,
His pools plan cost him 75p (15/-d), always losing!
And wrong choices and options choosing!
His life is forever error and mistakes replenishing!

Whoopsiedangleplops Acceptance!

Now, he sees that his life is like thirst-quenching,
Sanity-saving drinks have never been emerging!
Only his Thought-Storms will get any turbocharging…
His ever further ageing ailments, always twinging…
His mental stability… well, that’s beyond salvaging,
Sadly, due to his own misjudging and mismanaging!

Of course, he wished Dementia Doreen would go away…
But most clearly, she is with him every single day…
No matter Inchie, may hope, plead and may pray!
He’s bald nowadays, so worries not about going grey…
His memory and brain working more absentmindedly!

Physical Problems

Cataract Kathleen is his ailment most vexing…
The earholes are second, the wax is grid-locking,
The diminishing hearing is quite shocking!
Neuropathy Pete has his leg and handshaking!
Inchie still hits doors when through them he’s walking!

Things Wot Inchie Can No Longer do…

Here, he lists the things he’s never been found doing…
At least for a few years, there’s been no canoodling!
Surprisingly he misses doing his cobbling,
Resting, relaxing, unwinding, or chilling!
He can’t even manage to do the kettle descaling!

Incapable now, of drooling, duelling, hoping, driving…
Coping with problems or their abnegating…
Ballooning, javelining, footballing,
But: he’s excellent at frowning and bumfuzzling!
And bad odeing, and body-fattening!
And he’s the perfect mind & body for malfunctioning!

The Future?

Inchies Forecast for the World!

Ah, the future, to Inchie, it’s not very enticing…
For him, just the usual mistake-making and doddering!
More Thought-Storms, memorise of failings, so agonising,
He’d like to undergo a brain reinstalling…
Impossible, of course, that’s Dementia Doreen lurking?

After a life of ever belittling,
Now he’s ever bungling…
Tripping, stumbling or falling…
On a bad day, you’ll find him burbling…
A good day, he might be yodelling!

But good rays are rare…
Hardly ever, to be fair…
Maybe a decent minute or two here and there?
You can see why the old man’s in despair?
For company, he even welcomes the dentists’ chair!

He’s always on a downer; at least he’s consistent?
Yet a good chinwag and laugh, he is not resistant?
But he feels so sorry for those whose lives are distant…
The whippersnapping youngsters, not the convalescent…
What does the future hold for them? No contentment?
Wars, violent crime, people becoming intolerant…
Gangsters, politicians, getting more fiscally corpulent…
Fracking, rainforest destruction, morals corrodent!
Worries, price rises give fears, making folk crapulent,
Which uses up their funds quicker; it’s totipotent!
Putin may yet change God’s design, the rodent!
Proving the turd is untouchable, cunctipotent!

Why does Putin attack with impunity?
Proving to the world his inhumanity?
If also, his degree of egocentricity?
If we interfere, we’ll lose our power, electricity?
Proving our powerlessness and ignominy!

Putin

He does not look it; he’s showing serenity?
He claims to have compassion and benignity…
Or is that look, snottiness and solemnity?
Indeed no caring, just in hatred in the vicinity!
As he kills without care and utter impunity!

The West’s response shows no dignity…
Scared to death, showing nothing, of authenticity,
But what can we do with a man of such insanity?
His inhumanity is of outstanding durability…
Stop him? We do not have the ability!

From being attacked himself, he has autoimmunity…
Cause the West doesn’t have the guts or edacity…
We have our own failings, our own disunity…
This war has no opportunity of curability…
And that brings out amongst many detestability!

Ukrainian Spirit?

What a man, President and Ukrainian!

Once Putin wins, it will be more challenging than he thinks,
May the West challenge him to a game of tiddleywinks?
Volodymyr Zekenskyy, the man who doesn’t shrink!
Who compared to Pucking Putin, the far better man, I think!

Local News Snippets: Part 74⅛th

Local News Snippets: Part 74⅛th

However…

Things looked decidedly cheerier here!

To keep the upbeat tone: Here are some scumbags that have been taken to court. To collect the amusing, non-deterrent, laughable sentences from Magistrates and Judges

Hassan Ali, 25, Criminal Damage. £120 fine, £200 compensation and a £34 victim surcharge.
Nicolette Attenborough, 33, was fined £120 and was ordered to pay £85 costs and a £34 victim surcharge for assault.
Dylan Jackson, 26, was ordered to pay £85 costs, a £34 victim surcharge and was disqualified from driving for 16 months for drink-driving and for driving without insurance or a valid licence in
Darren Snowdon, 37, was jailed for 12 weeks and was ordered to pay a £125 victim surcharge for assault and criminal damage.
Dennis Nolan, 61, was jailed for eight weeks, suspended for a year and was ordered to pay £150 compensation for criminal damage of a glass windowpane and door.
Herroll Smith, 46, was jailed for 26 weeks and was ordered to pay £150 compensation for entering M Cuts & Shave Barbers, in Uttoxeter Old Road, Derby, with intent to steal a Stanley knife.
Tommy Maughan, 37, was fined £40 and was ordered to pay £20.60 compensation, £85 costs and a £34 victim surcharge for stealing £20.60 of items from Tesco.
Lee Goddard, 31, was jailed for 4 months and was ordered to pay a £128 victim surcharge for two counts of breaching a restraining order in Nottingham on November 8 and 23, 2021. The offences saw him breach a suspended sentence imposed on October 21, 2021, for five counts of breaching a restraining order.
Antony Bilson, 32, was fined £40 and was ordered to pay £85 costs and a £34 victim surcharge for breaching a criminal behaviour order.
Blaze White, 30, was fined £120 and was ordered to pay £85 costs, a £34 victim surcharge and was disqualified from driving for two years for driving without insurance or a valid licence.
Jordan Fearn, 22, was jailed for 12 weeks and was disqualified from driving for three years and was ordered to pay a £128 victim surcharge for driving while disqualified and without insurance.
Andrew Selwood, 55, was fined £40 and was ordered to pay £110 costs, a £34 victim surcharge and was disqualified from driving for six months and had his licence endorsed with nine penalty points for eleven counts of speeding.
Chloe Smallwood, 29, was fined £40 and was ordered to pay a £34 victim surcharge and had her licence endorsed with three penalty points for speeding at 36mph in a 30mph limit.
Tayyab Hussain, 24: Fined £91 and was ordered to pay £110 costs, a £34 victim surcharge and was disqualified from driving for six months, due to repeat offending, for speeding at 43mph in a 30mph.
James Rawson, 48, was fined £440 and was ordered to pay £110 costs, a £44 victim surcharge, a driving ban for six months,
James Bannister, 37, was jailed for 12 weeks, suspended for a year and was ordered to pay £85 costs and a £128 victim surcharge for stealing trainers and a swatch.
Michael Karim, 36, of Standard Hill, in Nottingham city centre, received the sentence as part of a group jailed for a combined total of 167 years for the role they played in a cocaine gang. Which equals an average of 6 years!
Orvil Brown was locked up for five years after he was linked to an international drugs ring that posted large and valuable amounts of cannabis and cocaine to flood the streets of Nottingham.
Reuben Woolley was jailed for three-and-a-half years after setting fire to his flat and hitting an emergency worker with a metal bar.
Kelly Williamson, 57, was jailed for five years and three months after being found guilty of conspiracy to supply cocaine.
Orvil Brown was linked to an international drugs ring that posted large and valuable amounts of cannabis and cocaine to flood the streets of Nottingham. He was jailed for five years.
Joanne Duke coaxed her way into an 81-year-old’s home before threatening him with a knife. She was jailed for seven years.
Robert Davies, 32, was sentenced to 26 months in prison and must sign the sex offenders’ register, be subject to a 10-year restraining order and a sexual harm prevention order.

We, I can assure Sam, that he couldn’t have been looking,
When I worked in Aspley, the criminals had me weakening!
I had difficulty finding anyone honest… folks were wrangling…
Mind you, the locals were all on an excellent nattering…
But they might pick yer pocket, then give yer a battering!

My shop was broken into, the Police didn’t seem to be bothering,
Gave me a crime number and didn’t bother returning…
The chap in the flat above got a bottling…
But cheap sex was always offering,
You’d get it free if you’d got any Methamphetamine!

Fights every night outside chip shop – bloodcurdling!
The Police would always attend… but not until the morning!
Ten-year-olds raided the chemist for Dextromethorphan…
That’s Night Nurse® or cough syrup, Triaminic™, or Coricidin™,
We had shopkeepers some get-together, meeting…
That usually ended up with us all pissed-off and drinking!

Two eighty-nine year-olds!

Sickening! I pray they can catch the culprits. This has got to me, I’ll not bother doing any more odes, not in the mood. Cheers.

Cheers.

Breaking News – Political Odes

Tuesday 11th January 2022

Politics today

Political farces, what a worrying thought,
Criminals abound, but not so many are getting caught!
But always motorists, cannabis users, end up in court?
Easier for the police… whose number is getting short…
Trying to understand why; I get bestaught!

The court’s sentencing seems unfair, unequal…
I thought judges were intellectual, but there’re ineffectual!
One lad had cannabis 2 ounces, got six months jail,
And armed robber, got tagged, no jail, another fail?
A shoplifter… charged 28 times, no jail; makes you wail!

If a citizen is violent, acts antisocially…
Or shoplifts, pickpockets occasionally…
Very few of them are dealt with properly,
But park in the City Centre, illegally…
Judges, magistrates, come over all schoolmasterly,
Massive fines, driving bans, even prison, arbitrarily!

With sentences for criminals, magistrates are miserly,
Youth beats up an 88-year-old, the youth could not get a job,
Magistrate ‘feels for him’ slaps his wrist, supposedly wisely…
Sent him home; on the way, he hit a woman in her gob!
The Magistrate should retire, obviously…

A Judge-parole-boarder, who frees murderers to kill again,
Are guilty of the crime repeated, for certain!
Their career in law should be slain, I wouldn’t complain…
If they were locked up until Jesus returns again!

Prisoners get the same healthcare and treatment as anyone outside of prison. Bollocks! I can’t get to see my Doctor. Would a prisoner have to wait for weeks to get a Dentist appointment? Just asking!

Prisoners can get Specialist support:

If they have drug or alcohol problems, Coronavirus, HIV or Aids. Are disabled or have a learning difficulty.
I get no help with my disabilities; I have to pay for Carers. Where’s my help with hearing, eyesight, Peripheral Neuropathy, Shaking Shaun, Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, Arthur Itis, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley, Back-Pain-Brenda, Walking, Vascular Dementia, Haemorrhoid Harold etc.? No!

♫ It was all over my jealousy ♫ Hehehe!

Inchcocks Future Fun Newspaper Headlines

.

Future Sports, Covidity, and Politics, unsung,
Including Boris, Cummings, even Cameron,
I threw myself into creating these, then the phone rung…
Told me the Bank is closing its branch… that’ll be fun!
A bill from the Council, Carers Fees, that stung!
Two weeks ago, Meridian arranged a direct debit…
About as reliable as Norman Tebbit!

Here they are; I hope you get a smile from;

Inchcocks Future Fun Newspaper Headlines

I fang You!

Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

December 2021: Local News – With Inchie comments

Local News

With Inchies comments in Ode.
Crap Ode, fair enough!

Here we go…

Inchy: I wrote upon this news, a comment what I thought,
Needed saying, about my views on this report,
About dangerous bike riders and Escooterists,
If I was young enough, I’d give them some fist!
Not that I’m a spoilsport…
Pavements are not there for their sport…
They should use the road, was my retort!
This will be perfect planning for those who snort,
Muggers, pickpockets shoplifters, should go to court!
But they rarely, some never get caught…
That’s the end of this verbal jaunt!

Not looking good, these figures, are they tommyrot?
I don’t know, but I do think not…
The anti-maskers, I disagree with this lot…
Being careful is best in the longshot…
Maybe each one of them is a barnpot?
They show aggression, wanting to form a protest riot?
Hah… I’ll just get me dinner made, chips and a carrot!

Well, the above new, will give normality a jerk though,,
Coronavirus has limited the number of people at work,
Working from home is back, I see,
Not that that is relative to me…
At last, from that pressure, I’m free…
I don’t miss it to any degree!

It’s the few who have to go to work, get my simpatico!
I know words can’t really help them; they seem shallow…
But in a few years, they will feel a warm glow…
Yes, retirement… it may be a shock, though?
There’ll be little rest; they should know…
So, I give advising a little go…

Things You May Find When Retired:
Of course, it depends if you’ve retired or been sacked…
Made redundant, nowadays that’s more of a fact,
70% of over 60’s get heart attacks…
80% will get cataracts,
Brittle limbs get broken or cracked,
If you did work, did you check your pension contract?
An area in which I sadly lacked…
The Government wants to know your finances; use tact…
People over 65 more often get hacked…
HM taxation will rarely use the word subtract…
It’ll help to see the Doctor, to get Prozacked…
Dementia, memory loss will ensure you get sidetracked…
HM Inspector of taxes checks, you are honest, in fact…
Oh, 90% of passengers were killed when getting highjacked…
Still, we’ll leave off that fact…

The truth is, you won’t be fit or rich enough to own a car,
Thus avoiding the floods, stay home using your camera…
Snap the poor devils, sell them photos later, from afar…
Then get ready for Arthur Itis, ulcers, and likely, oedema!

If they did ban them all, one day, to my amazement,
There’d be so many more unlicensed drivers prevalent!
Untaxed too, so what can we do?
What other form of punishment, a thumbscrew?
Too expensive to consider imprisonment,
The problem’s likely, beyond reconcilement!

I’ll tell yers while, Mr Magistrate,
He’s got you weighed up, straight!
Send him to prison, and you capitulate,
His laundry is done, free food, he can sleep in late,
No rent to pay, free medical care, to appreciate…
From the next peter, he’ll get his barbiturate…
Have time to read, watch telly, and cogitate,
To hand, will be a different way to cohabitate?
He can buy a knocked off phone to confabulate…
Oh, yes, he’s got it worked out, mate!.

A life sentence? Huh!, Rubbish!
No time for Odeing on this one…
Kenneth McDuff:
killed three teenagers, a life sentence, released after 11 years. Three days after his release, he killed again!
David Edward Maust:
While stationed in Germany, Maust killed a boy and was ultimately convicted of manslaughter. After being released, Maust stabbed a friend in his sleep, drowned a 15-year-old in a quarry, and slew three teens and attempted to bury them under his home.
Steven Pratt:
Two days after being released from prison for shooting and killing his next-door neighbour in 1984, Steven Pratt beat his mother to death during an argument.
Arthur J. Bomar Jr:
is a repeat offender who was in and out of the justice system multiple times. After being paroled from a Nevada prison in 1990, following a second-degree murder conviction, he may have been involved in three murders in Pennsylvania. Then, a few years later, he used a fake police badge to stop a female college athlete on the interstate and brutally murdered her. After he was finally caught in 1997, Bomar was charged with first-degree murder, kidnappings, aggravated assault, rape and abuse of corpses, and he was formally sentenced to death by legal injection. Hurrah! In the UK: Andrew Dawson, George Johnson, Ernest Wright, David Cook and Desmond Lee were all allowed out on licence despite getting life sentences; All killed again!

Another set too!

Why?
Gangs?
Fear… weapons…
Intimidation…
Drugs…
Booze…
Gambling?

Part of the Inchcock Local News in Ode Series

Inconversant Inchie, Tuesday 19th January 2021, diary

♥ Cinematical TFZers ♥

Tuesday 19th January 2021

Maori: Turei 19 o Hanuere 2021

00:30hrs: The demand for a wee-wee welcomed me as I woke up. I bravely forced my unfortunately ever-heavier stomached body from the comfort of the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, sickeningly-beige-coloured, rickety, uncomfortable, recliner. Up on to my feet. I caught my balance, visited the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket). I had an LPPP (Long-Powerful-Persistent-Peeing) session), followed by a period of CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribbling),  that surprisingly, lasting for minutes!

I made a brew and washed the pots from last night that I’d left to soak.

Took a photo of the morning view, not a good one, now the Nikon camera has conked-out, I have to use the Canon camera, which doesn’t take night shots well. And then started updating the Monday blog.

And got it completed in record time, I think. NN (Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters) and SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley), were the only ailments that gave me any problems, they were both only intermittent, and I coped amazingly well. To start with, thus, my Smug-Mode was engaged for a while. I do hope they still behave when I have to take the shave!

The six wee-wees taken during the updating were of the WUNT (Weak-Unwilling-Negligible-Trickling) style, and the CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribbling), but only a few drops and much weaker than the first one.

All done, I posted off the diary. Sent the Email links. Pinterested a couple of snaps. And delved into Facebook updating…

This was when the Smug-Mode died. NN, SSS and even Neuropthy Pete gave me a sat-down right leg dance! With the c1962 cabinet where I was seated on the computer, which still has some heavy wooden doors. I involuntarily tested their sturditity with my shin, ankle and knee a few times. Which set of CCP (Cathy’s Cartilage Protella) hurting somewhat. That bit of good luck didn’t last long! But at least I got the updating done with relative ease, so, I’m not moaning… much, anyway! Hehehe!

After the Facebooking was done, I went on the WP comments, then over to the WordPress Reader section.

Each of the four wee-wees taken during the Facebooking updating was of the WUNT (Weak-Unwilling-Negligible-Trickling) style again, but the CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribbling) was far less.

Ah, the joys and mysteries of an ageing bladder! Hehe!

The morning summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived, and I poddled to the wet-room. It was almost an exact repeat of yesterdays messy evacuation, but this time, with a decent amount of pain as the bale of straw looking torpedo gained its freedom. (It felt about the same size too!) Several manual refills of the tank were needed to clear the product, and some BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda) annoying bending to clean things up. After cleaning up the room and myself, I generously stayed a lot of air freshener in the wet room, before leaving. The silver-lining search: At least I didn’t walk into the door frame going in or out. No, Dizzy Dennis, Balance-Loss-Brian, or tumble visits. It could have a worse session!

I was now nothing like I was when I got up this morning! The ailments were gathering, giving me grief, and I decided to take an extra pain-killer, with the morning medications, and make a brew of Glengettie. Which, I did.

After taking the medications, I carried out the Health Checks. Starting with the BP on the Chinese manufactured Boot’s Sphygmomanometer. The SYS had come down from 184 to 170, and the Pulse from Sundays high of 91, yesterdays 66, now 75.

The Amazon bought, (for a very reasonable cost of £29), Chinese made Harpin Xian Di contactless thermometer reading was of 36.9°c. It was up a smidge, but it is still in the green on the reading, so nae bother there to fret about at all.

I tried to get a graphic or two done on CorelDraw before it was time for the ablutioning to be done.

Ablutionalisationing Report:

As I went into the hallway en route to the wet-room, some idiot had left the mop and bucket in the hallway. Ahem! There followed a toe-stubbing right on the metal clasp of the wringer-outerer, at the bottom! It was a singularly painful one! Of course, I didn’t swear, or anything like that, or call myself ‘a stupid, thick ♫%£+ing idiot, either! Ahuh! I had a little talking to and admonishing myself, and swore to be more careful in future. Don’t know why I bothered really!

I got on with the shaving, pretty pleased with timing for once. ‘The Goon Show’ was about to start, on Radio Four-Extra, Grrreat!

As I was getting the shaving tackle off of the trolley, I… wait for it… stubbed my toe against the wheel! Silver-lining: it was a different toe, and not so keen as the first one! My language was all calm, not self-depreciative, I did not spit, and there was none-cursing. Ahem! I just plodded on.

The shaving had only a few dropsies, and just the one, I say, One, tiny nick. I did a decent job with the new Bic razors, too. , then I thought it best to abandon it, with things seeming to be on a run of bad luck.

Moved into the shower, after cleaning another of the multitude of black spots off of the floor. (I do a little patch each time I shower, Gawd I’m a good lad, I am at times!) I had a super-shower, a good scrub-up, used the brush and loofah! No banging into the grab bars, Dizzy Dennis’s, Loss of Balance Bernards!

The pins, hooves and tootsies looked in fine form. I dried off and got the medicationing done. Olive-oiled the ear holes. Next, I creamed the furuncle and carefully Germoloided Harold’s Haemorrhoids. They did sting bit! Then Phorpain gelled Arthur Itis’s and Cathy Cartilage’s knees. Put the eye drops in. Nasal hygiene sprayed the nostrils. Cleaned the spectacles, decoked the hearing aids and checked the batteries… It’s a job and a half every day! There is another dollop of advice for the whippersnappers. About what they might expect when they are growing old! Hahaha!

I got the PP’s on and exited the wet room. To go and get some clothes on. As I was struggling into the trouser, I realised I had not done my teeth cleaning!

I returned to the wet room, giving myself a third toe-stubbing on the mop bucket, that I had failed to move on the first stubbing! Somehow, this had a relaxing effect on me. The third stubbing of the day, surely that’ll be it, they say things happen in threes?

Got the teeth cleaned without too much bother. Then I got some waste bags made up and, and along with the masses of recycling bags and carton, I filled up the trolley and box.

This could be dodgy, I thought, getting the trolley to the chute and then down the lift to the caretakers’ bins, with any spillage, dropsies or other calamities!

I had a bit of bother getting the badly-balanced three-wheeler trolley out of the door into the lift’s lobby, and even more, bother getting it through into the lift lobby.

But being the confident, young, strong, capable stalwart that I am, I pressed on and got to the waste chute-room without the slightest bit of bother Ahem! Alright then, I got in trapped a finger in the iron chute lid, dropped three bags, clouted my head against the wall, when going down to pick one of the bags up. And coming back out, the left-hand knuckle got a bash against the door frame.

I got in a lift, and as I exited on the ground floor, the route to the main lobby door was blocked by signed and cones from the workmen who were doing the upgrading work. Nae bother for me, I used the fire exit out to the bin area. Robert, the caretaker, was not there, he can’t always be, he’s other jobs all over the flats. I dropped the box’s and bags where the bins usually are, but not today.

I hobbled along Chestnut Way in the drizzle, to the ILC’s (Independent Living Coordinators) Interrogation and holding cell office.

As I got into the Winwood Court foyer, a sharp dizzy-spell nearly had me over! It left me a little confused and worried afterwards. It only lasted about 30 seconds, but I had to wait a while before moving on. What next! Took this snap of inside Winwood Court.

No lights were seen in the office, so I retreated, back out in the light drizzle, and made my way back towards Woodthorpe Court. I heard a voice, and I turned around, it was ILC, Desk Top Dancer, Warden Deana calling me from the Holding Cells window. I returned to the office. She asked if I knocked on the door, but I could not remember the dizzy coming on. We had a distanced natter, Deana, Warden and Ice-skating champion Warden Julie, and I.

I departed, and the drizzle had stopped as I limped along.

Welsh William passed on his way to the bus stop. Not seen him for about three months now, but I don’t go out on the bus nowadays, of course. Jealous? Me? Yes!

I got back inside the building via the caretaker fire door.

Not a soul in sight, I reckon the working lads must have been on their tea-break.

I got through the passage and into the lift lobby.

The way is still blocked off, no access to the front door. The chaps seem to be making some headway in the upgrading. No rush, we’ve had it for four years now, I think… definitely three. Finding a protected Pipistrelle bat, then the holidays, then the Coronavirus, it must have been a nightmare for Nottingham City Homes. Well, some of the residents ain’t too happy about it. But it can’t be helped. Hehe!

As I got up to the floor, I met Robert, the caretaker, with few words.

Got in the flat, I put the trolley away, and finished washing the Manufactured in Pakistan, long-sleeved shirt, all done, wrung and hung to dry.

I got the photos sorted and used then to update this blog. It dawned on me then, I haven’t had a wee-wee for over two hours? Confusing!

I was getting in a pickle with the food deliveries, and I made an order for next Monday from Iceland. 06:00 > 08:00hrs.

Then had a look at the latest Coronavirus figures I could find, for Nottingham. Which showed a slight bit of optimism at least, a drop in numbers I thought. Then I came across this report, about where I live in Sherwood. This was not good! Yet still, people go out every day on the buses.

I’d love to go out shopping, but it wouldn’t be fair to others.

I pressed on with the updating of this diary. It is hard work with Nicodemus and SSS, both giving me jerks and making me make so many errors repeatedly.

I made a brew… still no more wee-wees?

The rain had stopped all together now, but the view when I took these photographs, from the thick-framed, hard to get at to clean, light and view-blocking kitchen window, was looking decidedly somewhat threatening.

I was getting so tired now, and I thought about what to have for a nosh. Making my mind up can sometimes be an impossibility, so quisquous. I’ll check the use-by dates, then have the shortest, methinks.

The cooked smokey bacon had the shortest date on it. So I got a carton of chopped tomatoes, with some added basil oregano and sea salt. Warmed up the fruit and juice, and added the bacon. I think I may have put a little too much basil in, but I still enjoyed it—a flavour-rating of 7½/10. I had the last of the bread with it, but I hope some more will be delivered in the morning from Iceland.

I found some scribbled notes on the pad I was using to recall thing to put on here in the morning. But at this moment in writing, I’m blown if I can decipher it. Maybe, perchance a Doctor might read this, and can help me out? Hehehe!

I got the TV on and found a Sherlock Holmes episode showing. Ah, that’ll do me! I thought.

ZZZ!

Inchcock: Gloriouslly Inane – Saturday 5th December 2020

♥ TFZer Winner ♥

—————————————————————————————

Saturday 5th December 2020

Welsh: Dydd Sadwrn 5ed Rhagfyr 2020

02:20hrs: I stirred, dreary-eyed, and found in the folds of my tummy fat layers, a page from the notepad, and as I looked down, a pencil dropped from behind my earhole. The reading glasses were hanging on the very end of my nose and fell off to join some (I found as I began to move), biscuit crumbs as well. Nocturnal Nibbling Guilt!

The scrawl on the paper was hard to decipher. Bits I could make out were, ‘dreams put in the blog’ and ‘wee-weeing…’ But unfortunately memories of having the dreams I’d apparently had were lost into the ether. They must have been interesting, or I would not have made the regrettably unreadable comments on the pad. Shame!

I went through the routine of getting up, catching the balance easily enough this morning. Noticing that the ankle ulcer was clearing up so quickly (Not complaining). The papule underneath the left foot was still tender, even though it had grown back on the bottom of the foot.

I tended to the Health Checks first.

The Harpin Xian Di Thermometer gave a good reading of 36.7°c, a very fair, in the green range result. Then, I got the sphygmomanometerisationing machine out to use, wondering if it will take a few tries to get it to work today, and worked on the third effort: The SYS was still a little too high, but it’s been worse many a time.

As I took the medications, I thought I heard a noise coming from the hallway, I went to investigate. There was a letter on the floor at the door, but that must have been there from yesterday. No one would be posting letters at 03:25hrs of a morning, so that wasn’t the noise I heard. No signs of anything fallen was identified, so I returned, and got the medications taken.

Then I opened the letter. It was an eight paged A4 notification, from HMG (Her Majesties Government), Department of Health & Social Care. It consisted of the following: Guidance for the festive period – Shielding – Access to health & care – Important Information about Covid-19 – Access to Additional Support – Vitamin D supplements – Socialising -Care & Support – Tier 1, 2, and three rules to follow – Going to the shops and Pharmacy regulations. Whether or not I will live long enough to read and digest it all, is questionable.

But, Hatt Mancock’s… sorry, Matt Hancock’s end quote of “We will Continue To Support You in your efforts to keep yourself & others safe!” gave me a warm-glow of bile, that did.

I assume he may be talking about my not getting my prescriptions without a battle on the phone each month with the Chemist I must not visit, to get them delivered? Or being unable to get my toe-nails cut? Or the cancelled Oncologist – Cardiothoracic – Endocrinologist – Pulmonologist – Neurologist – Urologist and Audiologist cancellations?

Or maybe as is likely, he’s more working towards the next general election than actually bothered about us all. He feels a bit of creeping and ersatz care pretending now, belatedly shown will ensure the votes? Who knows? You can’t blame him! Hahaha! 

I remember the then New health secretary Matt Hancock receiving £32,000 in donations from the chairman of the think tank that wanted the NHS ‘abolished’! Matt Hancock received nine donations between £2,000 and £4,000 from the man who heads the board of the free-market group, the Institute of Economic Affairs.

I also remember him, defending his spending almost £50,000 on takeaways for his staff from just one London restaurant during the peak of the Covid crisis. The Department of Health and Social Care (DHSC) spent a total of £47,528 on takeaways from Bong Bong’s Manila Kanteen earlier this year, a Freedom of Information (FOI) request has revealed. Just nine orders costing £43,348 were placed at the fashionable “Filipino-inspired” eatery during April, then another £4,179-worth of orders placed in March! Just thought I’d mention it!

I got the updating of the Friday post done quickly. Sent it to WordPress. Did some Facebooking catch-up, then on the WordPress Reader section. Finally, got around to site comments.

Made the first mug of Glengettie tea of the day, and had a bag of Frazzles with it, well, no time for brekkers, I have to get on with making the templates up.

I took regular breaks over the.. wait for it… seven-hours I spent, getting the templates finished! The first being for some brekkers, of sorts. I had a pot noodle, and some nuts to nibble.

Back on the template slog.

Turned everything off computer-wise, to let it cool down, and got the ablutions done.

The ankle was looking much better now, but had still got the odd itching, with it? Feeling as if worms or maggots were underneath the skin?

The session went safely enough, dropsies of course, and just the one nick shaving.

The medicating went so easy as well!

I got the clothes all washed and sanitised afterwards and hung them on the dreaded, not used now if I can avoid it, doing so by not wearing any socks, Sock-Glide.

I must make an order for delivery soon, I’m low on disinfectants.

I got the unopened old but ere new when I bought them, trousers on. They were classed as brown, but only just. Hehe! 

They fitted perfectly. Well, what I mean is; The legs were far to narrow, my ever-growing, bulging, flabby-belly made it hard work to fasten the waistband clip, the pockets were too small, the cotton thread hung from the bottom of the legs, the belt buckle supplied with the trews broke. The bum fitted a little too snuggly. Other than that, they were fine. Oh, and the back pocket had a hole in it!

I hand-washed the old black trouser, all done, done, rung and hung above the sink to drip dry.

Back to the templating. I got the computer going again, and got a message telling me that the hard drive is running low in space. I’ve no idea where the message came from, Microsoft, Google or the computer. After a few moments of frowning and fretting – the message disappeared?

I took a breather, of sorts when it started to be a grind, rather than pleasure, in doing the CorelDrawing.

I made up the small waste bags, added them to the others in the box, and got them on the three-wheeler guide, and taken off to the waste-room and down the chute. As I got into the lift lobby, I used the Cannon (It’s far easier to use when on the move, cause it fits in the pocket, which the Nikon Bridge camera will not do, too big). The first one, the view as I entered the lobby straight ahead, the none along the length of the lift lobby, and one as I turned around and snapped the three flats lobby. Mine being the solitary single one on the right. It was eerily quiet out there! With no workers, no noise from Herbert, and even the blasted ‘Hum’ seemed quieter to me?

I got the bags down, in the process gaining a pretty deep blue bruise on the knuckles as I trapped the hand as the lid shot back closed.

Back to the apartment, and took these shots of the darkening day from the gallery.

Back to the templating again. I worked through uninterrupted for a few more hours. Got the templates finally finished and began thinking of what to have for my nosh. As I nosied around to see what was available, favouring doing the meatballs and potato shapes, to help clear the freezer, then I can free Jenny’s space up and fetch the meatballs she has kindly stored in her freezer for me.

Then it hit me, the usual late weariness, lack of concentration and feeling of being oh, so tired and worn out.

I decided against doing the meatballs, in case I fell asleep with them being in the oven for much longer. I got the potato shapes out of the freezer, and dropped the damned bag, catching it before it hit the floor, but a few of the shapes fell out. I noticed as I picked them up that the letters spelt ‘Thick’. (A link there somewhere?)  – Ah, clairvoyant potatoes? Hahaha!

The sky was changing as I farted-about making a right mess in preparing the cooking. Nicolas’ Neurotransmitter had been so kind all day. Still, it now was causing some dangerous situation with the oven and saucepan, like. I took a photo and another close-up of the picturesque peeping pink evening view.

Getting the pasties and potatoes out of the fridge, I caught my right arm on the oven. Puggleclumpdimwit! Ah, well!

I got the fodder l plated, and was amazed at the fact that I’d just made this meal! I was so, out-of-it, and drained? I must have engaged auto-pilot—a taste-rating of 7/10.

Too was tried to bother doing the washing up, and I required Sweet Morpheus.

But the Thought-Storms destroyed my hopes. Spurgledamnations!

Inchcock Today – Mon 25 Nov 2019: Mayhem and confusion, and a fair bit of disillusionment! Worra rotten day!

1 Nov 25

2019 Tnov 25

Monday 25th November 2019

Croatian: Ponedjeljak, 25. Studenog 2019. Godine

0Nov 25

WDP 08R02aWD 0.0.5 01:35hrs: I woke up, feeling instantly depressed at the thought of having to go to the After-Stroke Physio session, knowing how it always gets to me mentally, as well as physically. Then I pondered, have I got the right bus fare? Then it dawned on me; it’s Monday, not Tuesday! (I’m quick, you know. Tsk!)

The regular first thing in need of the Porcelain Throne soon arrived. So I disencumbered my onerously-overweight body from the £300, second-hand, c1968, sometimes working, horrendously tatty, beige-coloured, rickety recliner. The one that xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward. And he fitted new CCTC cameras, he erected a drone-landing platform outside and searched for my valuables, which he found and took (I still haven’t got them back yet six-months later).

I got my balance and the four-pronged walking stick and carefully wobbled off to the wet room. The evacuation, as it has been doing for a few days now, started on its own accord, was substantial and insalubrious, grungy, and messy again! I had a good clean up of the room, utilities, and myself, then made for the kitchen.

1Mon02

WDPT03LWD 0.0.5 The moment I turned on the hot water tap, hot water flowed from the tap (faucet) over the block and into the sink. Oh, dear! I’ll have to beg Brigadefuhreress and pole-dancer, ILC Warden Deana later, if she can inform the Nottingham City Homes repairs for me. I’ve already got to ask her to call the NHS Medicine team about the appointment they made clashing at the same time as the Podiatrist’s Sherwood Health Centre trip on Thursday. And the Police Pegasus Record people for me. I’m not going to be a very popular tenant again, bothering them! Mind you. That is if the gal is in today? If not, and she’s on holiday or working at another complex somewhere as holiday cover… I’m well-up the creek without a paddle! Confusion and depression were on the way, the EQ told me.

1Mon05I moved the handwashing onto the airers. I kept jiggling them about to get it to dry better as the morning went on.

I then got on the computer and started to get the Sunday post updated. But it was a slow and frustrating job today. The myasthenia gravis finger-ends were alternating between total and partial none-response. So, much time was lost in finding errors and correcting them repeatedly. This got to me, a bit, and my spirits sank somewhat. Having to go bothering people for help with the phones didn’t help much either. I always feel a hindrance to them. They seem so busy all the time. Which they are, of course.

1Mon 01WD 0.0.5 I’d nearly got the updating done when I realised that I had taken the morning medications yet! Tsk! So I made another brew and did so.

Back to blogging. Another hour or so, and I’d posted it off. Then put some pictures on to Pinterest.

Then I made a start on today’s post.

1Mon07The right arm, where I’d burnt it on the oven racks taking out Josie’s smoked haddock last night, began to itch, and I found it difficult not to keep scratching it. So I rubbed some Savlon cream on the little scars, this should ease off the itchiness! And it did, too! Any more medical help or advice you need, just call me! Hahaha!

I went on the WordPress Reader next. Then onto TFZer Facebooking.

WDP 11eLOff to the wet room for a wee-wee. And what a wee-wee it was! Of the MES (Marathon-Endless-Sprinkling) variety. I thought it must be time for dinner when it finally ended! It must have taken several minutes to trickle its way to a final conclusion. I think that maybe, had I used a receptacle to relieve things in, a teacup might have been too big! The pain, as well. Blimey!

I got the ablutions done, so I would have time to try and get down to the Oberuppehfureress’s Holding and Interrogation Cell office, and not be late in getting back for the Angel of Mercy Phlebotomy Nurse’s arrival. Which I didn’t want to be late or miss the beauty of!

1Mon06I got in and stripped off for the cleaning session, and boy oh boy, were the plates (feet) colourless! They were whiter and paler than I have ever seen them before! I could be dead here, and no one has bothered to tell me about it, you know. Hahaha!

WDP 02lb

WD 0.0.5 The day’s ablutions Whoopsiedangleplops are worth recording. Just for the sheer number of them! During my time in the wet room doing my ablutions, I considered giving up, moving to the Guinness home on Colville Court, Nottingham NG1 4HG. Where assistance is available 24/7, for just a few pounds more a week in rent… but realised there would be no point in moving again, I’d only take my bad luck with me. Suicide was not on the agenda. Just a pissed-offedness of 1Mon08mega-proportions. Anyway, how could one leave Jenny, Cindy, Penny, Mary, Gaynor, Margaret, Christine, Angela, Josie, Mo, Deana, Julie etc.. Not that I see them much, but when I do, it never fails to cheer me up. Back to the farcical wet-room session: Oh, the legs looked a little better today.

Ablutionalistic Whoopsies:

  • Dropped the toothpaste tube.
  • Clouted shoulder when bending down to pick it up.
  • Hit the other shoulder on the sink, getting back up.
  • Cut the inside of my mouth, when the autonomic nerves started the right hand shaking as I cleaned the teggies.
  • Dropped the toothbrush.
  • Dropped the razor, three times!
  • It broke on the third occasion, replaced it with the spare one.
  • Cuts on cheek, neck and the ear-hole acquired.
  • Dropped the carbolic soap twice in the shower.
  • Dropped the shower-head, it hit the knee on the way down.
  • Grabbed the towel from the hallway airer, and knocked over the machine.
  • The warmer gave out a little dull-sounding ‘Plump’ as it stopped working!
  • I hit my knee on the shower stool, fetching it back in.
  • Finally (I hoped at least!), I knocked the Sock Glide off of the chair as I lost the old balance a bit.

One of my more interesting, shall we say, shave & shower sessions that one was. (And saying that isn’t easy, Hehe!) Having got the spit and polishing up done, I hastened to get ready for the trip down in seeking assistance.

1Mon09 In the lift lobby, it looked as if the Mysteries of my beloved Woodthorpe Court. That lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of space & the universal continuum, illusion, delusion, & hallucination, had been busy again? Haha!

I poddled along, the three-wheeler in front of me, and my mind all over the place. I arrived at the ILC’s Kamp Kommander’s Interviewing and Correctionalisationing Office. The three sweethearts were all in the room, busy catching up with their Tenants Monday morning problems moans and gripes, I should think. 

  1. WDP 02aLI explained my problems, starting with the Pegasus form to be filled in, and the silly bit of paper with the return address on, in need of guidance on how it supposedly works. Oberstúrmbannfhreress Warden Deana (Just a cognomen), knuckled down and helped out straight away. She filled in the form from details held on the Nottingham City Homes computer record for me. Then supplied a safer envelope for me to use for posting back to the Nottingham Police Headquarters. Thanks, Deana!
  2. Then, she tackled the problem of the two appointments this Thursday at the same time. The lady who will be calling from the Medicines Team, Leoni will call back to me later when she returns to the office. Thanks, Deana!

I passed the nibbles around, and Deana gave me the envelope to post. Thanked her and walked out to near the bus stop, and posted the form. I went over to the bus stop, and a lady who thought I was going for the bus, stood up let me have her seat, bless her! I explained that I had just come over to offer a ‘Good Morning’ to everyone. No one answered! Haha!

1Mon09aWD 0.0.5 WDP 02LcRI made my way back to the flat, taking a snap of the windblown al-fresco seating area in the drizzle. I noticed that the door was ajar. I pressed the green open button, and a chap came along to tell that I must not push or force the door! I explained to him that I did have to if I wanted to get outside! He repeated that it was a fire door – I pointed out that it is not like the doors in the new Winwood Court, that is how come there, is a green button to press, it does not open automatically, you have to push the door! That is what I have been told. He was not impressed; he just repeated that I must not force the door, tutted and went off in a huff! Humph! I don’t know who he was.

1Mon09bWDP 02lbWD 0.0.5 I got inside the flat, (09:40hrs) and found a note from the Phlebotomy nurse, who wrote she could not get me to answer the door at 0930hrs. Talk about bad luck in the timing. If it hadn’t been for the know-all bloke, who was wrong in what he said anyway, I wouldn’t have missed the nurse! Globdollocks and Rumbustiousness! 

WDP 14LWD 0.0.5 Now I have to ring the Sherringham Medical Practise Surgery. It ended up that I have to go to the surgery for my Warfarin blood test. The only slot they have left is for Wednesday at 11:45hrs. Just can’t be helped, though. Not with my rotten, horrendous, continuos, lousy, soul-destroying, heart-attack-prompting, pathetic, suicidal-tempting, crap, horrible luck! But, it doesn’t bother me, mind. Lie01a!

The doorbells chimed-out, and it was Josie, returning the things from her Sunday nosh. Happily, she said she loved it! Which, despite the Whoopsies, cheered me up a tad!

WD 0.0.5 Then Leoni, from the Medicines Management Team rang. To change the Thursdays double-booking with the Podiatrist, at Sherwood Health Centre. Cancelled Thursdays, and made one for Wednesday 4th December for 09:30hrs. Bless her, she made it nice and early for me! ♥

WD 0.0.5 Then the phlebotomy nurse rang me, making an appointment with me, also for Wednesday 27th November, but did not know what time it would be for yet!

WDP 4RI was now in a state of utter confusionableitis!

WD 0.0.5 My head was spinning – My concentration shattered – My will-power was virtually none-existant! – It was gone passed my head-down time! It had gone dark and dank, and the rain is falling slowly again!

And the thought of going to the miserable, pettiness and sarcasm-ridden After-Stroke Physio session in the morning is already lingering ready to grow and develop into a new depression…

WDP 03RWD 0.0.5ARGH! I’ve just realised, with having to stay in all day. I’ve not got the money for the bus fare in change for the rotten, unwanted morning! I’ll have to walk to the bloody-physio work-out now!!! That means two and a bit hours, so I’ll have to leave by 06:00hrs at the latest, and knowing my sodding luck, and the British weather, it’ll probably be raining!

1Mon14WD 0.0.5 Oh, so fed-up! I went to make a brew and think about something to eat. And the door chimes rang out again! It was an Amazon delivery! The mood changed slightly, still not happy, and even depressed, but a twinkling of hope came into my mind – “Aha, is this the Rice-cooker replacement lead! Hahaha!

1Mon13WD 0.0.5 No such luck! It was the monthly Mannen Lemon cream wafers that were being delivered! Ah, well, I should expect something to go right? An absolute, Shlimazel like me? Don’t make me larf!

So, I’ll have some of the quick rice later. Not all that later, I hope. Cause I’m worn-out and mentally drained now.

WD 0.0.5 1Mon11Hello, a noise from the door again, I’ll investigate. Fancy that, a load of junk mail had been delivered for me to enjoy! Well, that cheered me up no-end that did! A good job I live on my own, for the mutterings coming from under my breath, that was not to be repeated in any civilised company! The Houses of Commons, perhaps?

I had another look at the Google Calendar. Now, what needs doing? Ah, the surgery must be contacted, about the phlebotomy, or have they already been in touch with the nurses?

1Mon12

I feel deficient now. I imagine that the electric lead will be delivered tomorrow while I’m out unhappily being glared at and spoken of behind my back, be read to from a book. Listen to crap “You are walking along the beach, the sun is warm, and to paddle along the water’s edge…” or some such so-called relaxing taped talking, and hearing of other’s holidays to Asia, America, Australia. Their latest new car. Their families Christmas arrangements. Going through agony with the exercises from Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna, Maria Myasthenia Gravis and so on, leaving the… oh, I got carried a bit there. Sorry. 

I had to close down the computer, through over-fatigue (Mental I think).

1Mon22I got the handwashing done, wrung and hung. Got into the night-attire, and once the meal cooked and served up, tucked into it!

Cooked Turkey, RRQ flavoured rice, with chopped tomatoes and onions added. Some wholemeal sliced cobs, but I only ate two of them. Flavour-Rating: 7.5/10.

I got the pots washed, and settled in the second-hand, c1968, recliner.

I lay for a while, pondering on the things, well, the cock-ups that had come my way today. But did not get around to actually thinking-out any solutions or damage limitation. For once sleep came quickly, defying the mind-blast in my head!

I’m not sure how I got through today’s mighty, mayhem of macabre, morose, mentally-testing mishaps.