MORE A REMINDER THAN CARTOON
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STOP…
Stop, but don’t do nothing…
Think: Is humankind worth saving?
Who will do the adjudicating?
Whom can we trust for officiating?
Who will reveal the declaring?
Will we decide by voting?
The leaders we’ve been electing…
Oligarchs, criminals, always lying…
I find them greedy & mind-boggling,
He seems to enjoy pensioners dying?
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When we bravely request a financial bequest,
We get a failed promise, a behest at best,
Do we vote for the least bloodthirstiest,
We settle for the best of the baddest,
We get Starmer, virtually, Labour’s baddest,
A right-winger, not a Socialist!
A taking backhanders specialist,
Who looks after his own spondulicks,
As lying PMs go, he’s the stealthiest,
Maybe he appeals to schizophrenics.
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Compassion? He hasn’t got the remotest,
Wars, hostages? He’s not worth a sausage,
He’s got his nuclear shelter radiologist,
Is earth worth saving in retrospect,
To be honest, I’ve not got the remotest,
Did you hear of the upcoming protest?
Calls for a national strike from communists,
If it’s all peaceful, I won’t object,
I liked Boris, although the slaphappiest,
Starmer? The Unsincerest!
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Can you believe Keir’s not even prosecutable?
He’s even not at all arrestable!
No chance of him being imprisonable,
He’s sacrosanct; after lying to get electable,
Takes backhanders; what a spectacle…
Clothes, cinema, tickets for Arsenal,
He’s made himself impregnable…
Other MPs’ crimes make them blackmailable,
Yet his crimes are irrefutable!
His greed & dishonesty are kenspeckle!
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A minimal in the extreme blog today
LAST NIGHT….
Early yesterday evening, to add to the crazy seizure and Ann Gyna popping into the equation, I got the same as I did last Saturday night.
A deep tiredness, depression and, most annoyingly at the time,
kicked off for the first time since last Saturday. I nodded off to sleep in the c1966, £300 charity shop bought second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner, even with
and
both giving me attention and waking me up every so often, I soon got back into bliss.
Carer Joe woke me up.
I was so wee’d-off. I couldn’t help it.
Within minutes of his departure, I nodded off again.
Mysteriously, but it suited me;
never twitched again. And
eased off tremendously. And I fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of the old days. Two hours later, Carer Ejaz woke me.
I WAILED WITH FRUSTRATION.
Poor Ejaz thought I was getting at him. It’s hard to explain how things can be with my conditions, and
I felt guilty about the misunderstanding.
Once Ejaz departed, I felt tired and could not get back to sleep. I tried the usual: I put the TV on. Even that failed. After another fruitless hour of trying my best, I finished yesterday’s blog and started this one.
Around 04:30hrs, I felt I could get some sleep. But needed to utilise the
.
As I got up, the pain from the catheter tube in
Little Inchy, now leaning to the left, was agony!
I hobbled to the wet room and got myself seated. The nasal juices flowed, and it took me ages to painfully encourage the
controlled evacuation to begin. A little bleeding
from
. I emptied the pouch into a jug for the Carer to evaluate. Then, I tackled moving the tubing and straps on the catheter in the vain hope of easing the pain. I decided to get the
done, being as I was up.
Shaved first. It is not usually recommended when I feel so tired. But, foolishly, I carried on. I amassed four nicks and foolishly
.
Wish I’d taken Kodak Tim 2 with me now. The sink reminded me of, erm… Psycho, I think. Haha!
Orifices scrubbed up and dried.
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All the usual. Eye drops & sprays ![]()
Little Inchies Lesion,
Another failed go at getting the catheter contraption tube & straps less painful.
Barrier creamed where I could reach.
I was back on the computer, fell asleep, and crumpled to the floor, landing on my left knee—now the tube and straps are even more painful.
Clamboured up using the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. And thought I’d stay there and get some sleep at long, long last.
That lasted a minute or so, and the landline telephone chirped up. All I could hear was some music? No idea who it was.
Carer Ejaz came in. Well, after I’d unlocked the door, I forgot to do it with the ablutions and Meds performance. A good-looking lad, he was getting some medications out of the prescription drawer in the kitchen.
I’m so tired out.
Continues her milder attackd. She’s getting around a bit today. I’m unsure what happened in detail, but the worn-outness and fatigue returned just like last weekend?
Why only at weekends?
Fell asleep, Carer woke me up.
Put TV on to watch the highlight of the day.
Fantastic Result!
A WARM SMUGNESS FELT!
My hatred of Manchester City is only beaten by my Hatred of Chelsea. Naturally, my loathing of Herr Keir ‘Pensioner-Killer’ Starmer outdoes them both.
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I then proceeded to fall asleep again.
Woken by the Carer. Mizra. Who, I recall, barrier-creamed both ankles. Painkillers were given to counter the almost persistent
and graded the urine for me.
I then did some work catching up on this blog.
Before getting the meal, I prepared it earlier and put it in the fridge.
Delicious!
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Just some of the clothing that no longer fits me. Taken in mid-clear-up.
This rack was chocker-block full. At least Joe saved some for me after checking if they should fit onto my chunky, whacking great, super-duper-sized, walloping, cyclopean, elephantine body. Not many!
The rail racking had even less that would fit!
Two 60-litre waste bags full of unfitting clothing were packed and ready to be picked up by Carer Joe later. Joe made a funny quip after we stopped to get the laundry sorted out. I think I said about the drier?
Roasted some potatoes in the oven.
Mixed then in the ready meal.
Ah, much better!
The part-mystery of this note has been solved.
Butter (by Flora). The only let-down was the so-called Mature Cheddar cheese.
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04:14hrs: Sorted the catheter contraption bags.

I took this snap and sat down for some R&R.
Honestly, I can’t recall taking these incredible clouds

Bean stew with added pickled water chestnuts and brown gungo beans.
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Carer Ejaz treated the catheter contraption
wounds and bruises.
Kitchen view.
Sweetcorn fritters were put in the oven.
A microwave meal is sorted.
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Amazing – the moon has a ghost?
Glengettie & Spring water, and Soda water.
Got back to the flat.
A few nibbles I bought.
Socks on the airer in the hallway.
Hallway airing cupboard doors.
And on the main room door.
Skin-on wedge chips, slightly-seasoned.
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Fresh foods
More fresh foods
When?
When? Could they be old or already used?
Aha, last night’s!
Can’t recall taking this one
To this scratchy-looking shot
Slurp!
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to leak again. I can’t win! Haha! Honestly, I do try!


to the wet room to visit the Porcelain Throne. Trosky’s comeback from yesterday was short-lived.
Ejaz took these two shots of feet and poot little and big toes. The big toes seem to have gotten larger overnight? Is that possible? Both hallux toes also seemed to be curling beneath the other toes? Does anyone else out there have or had this before? The smaller toes seem to be more bent? Hey-Ho! Ajaz checked the torso for scabs, bruises, or wounds but found none. Well, a few new red-spot growths on the right top thigh. They come and go at will. After the lad had gone,
I went to make a brew of Co-op 99 tea and took this snap on the right when I saw how the sky had reddened.
Baked potatoes in husks, frankfurters, and nothing else.
And a close-up to follow.
They had a dour beauty, do you think?


I lurched from the recliner, noticing the time was 06:20 hrs. I detached the nocturnal pouch from the day bag, and plans changed when I got up and started
the gentle morning balance exercises. The wind erupted from my hindquarters; long, loud, noisily, and aromatically contaminated the room. Off to the wet room, I trudged. By the time I got there and sat down on the Porcelain Throne, the agony from my toes was as painful as it had ever been!
ed me. My plan to catch up on the blog was in ruins.
’s breasts, arms, and in the crutch near the catheter tube. I reckon that the right Lymphorrhoea Leslie’s lower leg, which had been bleeding overnight, had dried up well enough and was reduced in size. But things with Leslie change day by day.
I went out on the balcony to take two shots. That rain we had earlier leaked onto the car park’s end
It’s unnatural that so little rain is falling
At long last, I got on the computer to update and post the Friday blog on WordPress. It took me hours, but still.
The top shot was to the left of the kitchenette window. The bottom one to the right.
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Whoops.
Whoops! Where did the bruised eye come from?
Ah, my ankles and legs are a bit better!
Finished in the wet room.
View from the kitchenette.
These, top & below…
Taken by Carer Ejaz.
After noon snaps.
Front car park.
An unknown mystery about these scratch bruises on my left arm. 
Sweet & Sour vegetable dish.