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

Inchcocks Selected Whoopsiedangleplops of the day

ONE

SOCK GLIDE-GLENDA

Absolutely!

This morning, I used Sock-Glide-Glenda, rather unwisely,
I felt confident and assured that I could use it injury-free!
I wanted to prove I’ve no need to be nervy…
Sure, that I had the ability, guts, and dexterity!
I thought this task to be just a formality…
Where I got this idea from also confused me!

It was going along pretty well, almost easy peasy!
But my confidence in my abilities turned into nihility…
Stepping out of frame, I lost my feelings of sensitivity,
And tumbled onto Glenda… tempting moribundity!
Scratches, bruises, welts… such a pity…
I soon lost my earlier orotundity!
I really am a liability!


Although the welt is morphing into putrefaction…
Add the bruised on the head for precision,
I came out in fair nick from this Accifauxpas action…
I’ve had no severe reaction…
It just spoils my good looks and beautification!

TWO

The Iceland Food Cometh!

No unavailable substitutes, things looked good,
The driver took the bags to the kitchen…
Thanked him, can of pop given, as I should…
The stomach wounds show no signs of blood…
I’d ordered some beef chunks, priced very good,
Went to get the fodder away as I would…
Then I saw the beef; some pieces looked like wood!
The rest were coloured red, as they should!

Above is the photo I took of one of the packs of need. Some pieces looked like cannabis colours blocks; the others looked fine. Opening up the pack, still in date, the texture of the CBD Hemp looking ones (about 30% of the contents!); was of an entirely different texture to the others? Things got me a little hot under the collar; when I checked the other two trays, they all had the Cannabis coloured chunks in them. I visited the Iceland site, and I checked the email that Iceland had sent…

I tried through the internet and found a page where they said I could email them… Fine, I thought, I’ll do that then… I’d got the details needed and went through a mammoth set of questions to finally get down to the email Iceland section at the bottom… But No! There was a list of reasons for the email, and one had to be selected. Otherwise, it didn’t let me get to the email page. Grumph!

So, I had to try the landline.

Dialled the number, and it was answered quickly… I waited… By a recorded message telling me they were experiencing a large number of calls and spent a few minutes telling me how I could contact them on the web, even recommending that I do that.

But not for long; the recorded message chappie interrupted the kip-the-sods-waiting music, which seemed like every minute. “If you want to know where your delivery is, phone…” Then next time something like – it was hard to hear him) “If you wish to question any charges… ring” – Followed by “A list on all new products re available at ……… .com” I had about ten of these interruptions.

Eventually, I got a real person to talk to. But hearing what she was saying was a nightmare! I answered all the details asked of me. I didn’t know how many pimples I had on my bottom, so I couldn’t answer that one… Hahaha! Only joking!

After only 20 minutes of the call being answered, I thanked her for her help. I’ve no idea why. I hadn’t got the foggiest notion of what was going to happen. But did catch ’email mentioned a minute before she rang off? So anticipate getting one (email) about a refund… or not, if I’ve got it wrong again…

I got this Email shortly after laundry and ironer Esther had gone. She kindly brought me the numbers to ring Amazon about the misleading information about my deliveries. Bless her.

And here we go…

Three

Amazing Amazon Cock Up

They told me as below on the tracker thingamajig. That the Galpharm Capsules would arrive on 20th – 21st April. They were delivered last Thursday 14th April). More of concern, they told me the Throw had been delivered last Saturday? I have not arrived yet! And was originally due on the 23rd of April. Confusion reigns?

–  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –

Four

Things started well; I oiled the ears to make them less waxy,
But they were still solid; the oiling failed dismally,
I syringed in water, which worked satisfactorily…
I waited for anything happening, cynically…
The noises from the canals became sort of crackly,
I viewed the treatment as failed – somewhat sceptically!

Nasal clearing, Germoloiding, Germolening… carefully…
All going okay; I Pain Gelled my knees and ankles easily…
Got the eye drops in… well, practically… but woefully…
Some got into the eyes, but with Shaking Shaun’s ability…
I got most of it down my cheek into my mouth, literally!

Then came the Blood Pressure taking…

Then onto the sphygmomanometerisationing,
In other words, the blood pressure taking…
The results lately have been astounding…
The last eight tests, all within a high rating…
But only just, nothing worth worrying about…

Flibbledonkackles! & Spurgledamnations!

Great Balls Of Fire!

Bloody Nora, what a shock!
This made me clench my buttock!
And my bladder wanted to unlock!
Hehehe!
I’ll have to ponder and take stock?
I checked the NHS site, like a shot!

Computer on, I entered details in the NHS, BP chart…
My result was off the scale; I passed an unintentional fart,
But I felt well pretty well, as best I could tell…
Leave it; check again later? Is that smart?
Listen to some music, perhaps some musical art?
Joannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart,
He was only 39 when from this earth he did depart!
I’ll go on the NHS helpline, well, it’s a start…

This message came on the screen after I pressed the ‘Go’ button to see the graph. Automatic response, mayhaps?

–  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –

A typical day for an old one like me… ruminations…
Frustrations, Whoopsiedangleplops, abominations,
Lack of socialisation and communications…
Accifauxpas, injury collecting, misread intonations,
The mind’s acute lack of clarity and precision!

Deafness, warping conversations,
Confirmation of hypertension…
Worries about the yobbo’s flat intrusion,
The brain is confused between reality and illusion…
A nasty, Thought-Storm invasion,

But odd things that baffled yet pleased me?
A movement in my loins, the first since 2003!
A yearning to have back my 4×4 Panda Sisley?
I wanted a pan of streaky smoked bacon, crispy…
Needing the dentist to repair my cavity…

Hate: Dementia Doreen, for causing such deficiency,
Denying my once held abilities, from logicality…
Ensuring my confidence less, and other disabilities…
My memories fade, but old ones remain: A malady?
Not knowing what time & day it is, is not an abnormality!

Failed & deferred appointments, like with the audiologist,
A Doctor who I’ve forgotten what she looks like?
The Ophthalmologist, no appointments were missed…
That’s cause I haven’t had one yet, about which I’m pissed!
Three cancellations from the phlebotomist…
Just the one from the immunopathologist,
Four from the Gerontologist, Two for the dentist…
The DVT clinic, four from the neuropathologist…
Could I get help from a psychiatrist or hypnotherapist?
A couple more to put on the cancelled list!
I must stop moaning… I must desist!

–  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –

.

Inchcocks Thoughts – In Odes Issue 13⅓rd

In Odes, not good ones… but Odes!

The number of humans on this earth is 7.87 billion at this time…
On the global internet, the users add up to 4,321,740 and 9!
So your chance of your blog going viral is fine…
But don’t expect it, as I did, then found a steady decline!
I hope you do much betterer with thine!
My last one got two likes and comments; one was mine!

It’s Doreen Dementia and Liberty-Global I blame,
It’s fun to me, but it’s all money… a shame!
Their service is as much off as on, and it’s a game…
Farcically, ownership Liberty-Global disclaim!
Telling the call agents not to ever mention their name!

Liberty-Global owns Virgin; the boss should resign!
For Mr Fries knows not what he is doing…
Or though maybe he does, he makes money fine?
It’s overpaying mugs like me that he’s screwing…
His bosses think that everything is fine…
With Fries shadowy, manipulative money moving,
All on paper, mist and mirrors… this profit maker-divine!

A gorgeous gal wanted me in the early hours of this morning…
Of course, I knew that I was probably dreaming,
This very fact, I found a little perturbing…
She insisted on closer, passionate probing,
To my delight, she was acquiescing…
We were soon manipulating and bouncing,
She was ready and asked for another trouncing,
No problem for me, and I began eagerly disrobing,
But my performance, I think, was unconvincing…
Surely she should have been rejoicing?
And as her knickers, she was replacing…
I attempted some more romantic seducing…
I found it embarrassing what she was saying…
“I’ll not call again; there was no pain – Where’s this leading?
I’m just glad I was only dreaming!

I thought the visit before was on the wet side…
But this evacuation was even more undignified
I failed to get there on time, my aim was wide…
I cleaned things up, taking it all in my stride,
In doing this, I felt an iota of pride!

Cleaned, refreshed, but I went from Jekyll to Hyde,
As I started to get things all antisepticised…
I dropped the Germoloid after it had been applied…
And trod on it, swore, and boy, how I did self deride!
The contents squirted all over, and my frustration intensified!

But this Throne visit had yet another downside to it…
Leaving the wet room, I misjudged the width a little bit,
Missed hitting into the frame; I gave myself a little merit!
Stubbed my toe on the airer; fell, hitting under my armpit!
All this cause I urgently needed a flipping sh__!

Thought Storms Erupted

The Thought-Storms erupted, irking, they attacked,
Insults, fears, and failures were lurking and squirted…
Self-loathing, diffidence, vacillation were not appreciated
New worries, old ones, insecureness… amalgamated!
It’s Thought-Storms like this that are most hated!

The cause of the forebodings could not be authenticated,
For reasons, causes, I waited and waited, breath abated…
Nothing was solved, understood or elucidated…
The logic-testing thoughts, endlessly circumlocuted,
My mind was failing, nervous and bloviated!

My resistance was worn down, crumbling, it wilted…
My own thoughts could not be filtered…
However, slowly the tormenting mind vegetated,
Which was good; the brain needed to be rested…
Along came a new wave of dichotomies to be wherrited!

Inchcock Thought Storms – In Ode

Inchcock Today: Decision-Making Ode

Decision-Making Ode

To give up and let whatever will be, be,
Inchcock needs help, an advisee…
His confidence is low, can’t hear nor see correctly,
Sorting timing and transport problems presently…
Memory and mind blanks are persistently…
Worryingly scary words, guilt at being so portly?
Can’t communicate… he’ll need help shortly…

He’d like assistance without condescension…
Problems with his hobbling obamulation,
Going out? His last two trips caused panic hortation,
He wee-weed himself, oh, vociferation!

Staying in now, he expects a call from the hospital,
Missing it could be fatal… to the depression, he’d hurtle!
His mind’s confused; it does justle and jostle …
Poor old sausage… he worries more than a little!

Before the stroke, he was no mathematician…
Now he needs the help of a physician…
What can he do? He struggles in making a decision!
Mind blanks and tumbling seem his new religion?

Appointment with the can’t test him yet, optician,
Cataract ops first to correct his vision.
Same with his local dentician…
Good job, he hasn’t got a cosmetician! (Haha!)

Small print from the NHS and bank in unison…
This means letters and texts have little comprehension,
Causing the lad even more worry and tension,
He really needs looking at by a diagnostician!

He drew his fretting to the attention of the warden,
Feeling embarrassed, to him begging, is alien…
Warden Deana arrived for a helping me out session,
Who arranged transport for me? My thanks and veneration!.

Then, he felt cared for and cheerier, no question!
So, time to fret over other things, like his fundoplication,
shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, Little Inchies Fungal lesion…
And the Cataracts forthcoming double operation…
Hid new rear-end boils, a painful conglomeration…
Also, Inchcock’s ear-holes blockage and tintinnabulation…
Worry about his glaucoma and banks documentation,
Not to mention his bank accounts dwindling emancipation!

Deana was his Carpathia, saving lives on the Titanic,
Although Inchie still looks like he’s going brassic…
Her help today was something of a tonic…
His life no longer seemed so chronic!

He even started whistling, although not acoustic,
It’s never been his most vital attribute, singing…
Then again, he’s always been gently altruistic,
Soft and daft as a brush from a yearling…

Inchcock’s Educationing

He missed out on schooling and educationing.
He’s never grasped algebra, geometry or arithmetic,
Yet he’s always had a yearning, desire for learning…
As a lad, he’d double pneumonia, constantly sick…
I don’t know how he ever made a living?
He was well-known as a bit of a schmendrick!
Always getting beaten up or something…
Mother ever being taken down to local nick…
He was spotty, with the littlest ever ding-a-ling…
He took a lot of verbal and physical stick,
So it didn’t bother him that he couldn’t sing.

He coped with thumps and insults from many a bully?
He was a whimp who never answered aggressively…
He plodded on, hiding from being treated abusively…
There was little he ever achieved, ruefully…
Scared of water, he played hooky every Thursday…

That was the swimming lesson day, nobody noticed…
For two years of playing hooky, he was not missed,
Dad took him to the fair and visited a hypnotist…
I think it should have been to a psychiatrist,
The 11-plus, Mummy was on the run, so that he missed,
In meaningless employment, he languished,
But he grew up the shabbiest; he became a motorcyclist!
When old enough, he became an alcoholic, always pissed!
Oddly enough, it’s similar now… he’s still not missed,
He wears protection pants; he’s pissed at always pissing!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Aha, got some photos uploaded!

I believe this was Wednesday’s nosh. Of microwave veggie sausages, disappointing Icelands crispy chips (That weren’t), and red and orange tomatoes. Not too bad a plateful. Taste: 6.6/10.

Wednesday’s sunset. I’m finding it hard to stay up for the later evenings now the clocks have been forwarded (I’ve even got all on mine done now… Haha!) Variations on a theme, I’m calling it.

Thursday morning rising.

Wen to make a brew of Glengettie. And I spotted from the kitchenette window the rather heavy rain that was raining down,

I took this shot through the narrow bottom pane of glass, camera up against the window. Gave it a different aspect… which reminded me of Grizelda (Slight movement in the lower regions).

Took the last two a few hours later on Thursday.

Incidentally, at this point, I took my eleventh wee-wee of the morning. Cor, blimey!

Three more wee-wees and an hour or so later, I went to mash the second mug (Thompsons’ Punjana this time) of tea. I snapped this one of the houses in front of the tower block.

I must say, it came out reasonably well. An accurate representation of the local dwelling at the front of Woodthorpe Court flats.

The rain was a lot lighter at last, as it shimmers on the roadway of what I think is Elmswood Gardens… a sort of modern-day Coronation Street… perhaps not!

Afternoon Chestnut Way ends car park investigation. The parkers, the red-van-man, continued with his fear of white guidelines for parking between, then I went to the kitchenette to assess the choice of vehicle colours.

The evening Carer arrived, treats were offered. Got ready to get my head down and took what I guesstimate as my 24th wee-wee of the day. Hope things calm down soon!

TTFN.

Inchcock Today: Diary with Tips in Ode

INCHCOCK TODAY

Morning Thoughts – In Ode

Tips & Advice for Whippersnappers

It’s not always good to be counterrevolutionary,
Or eat too many cakes, biscuits and confectionary,
Even when they are freebies, stolen or complimentary,
You can get CBD from an apothecary, but not for free!
Boots sell sugar-free cakes, chewing gum and toffee!

Don’t skimp on your health, even on dentistry…
It will hurt and cost, don’t be disillusionary…
You can get pain-killers, co-codamol from a dispensary,
You must obtain a job; this is elementary…
To avoid ending up broke and eleemosynary!

Avoid gangs, violence, and drugs, which seem customary…
For youths who end up injured or dead, sanguinarily…
Not that all young men think this is statutory…
Many, well, a few, the odd one, will live crime-free…
Sixty-five per cent or so will go to prison, you see!

This advice-ode is not meant to be a shockumentary,
Its advice is to avoid overuse of your Rosary…
Luckily for you, we have a cost-counting judiciary…
So drug-taking, muggings, don’t mean putting you away,
It costs too much to lock you up for more than a day!

The exception is murdering someone, to prison, you go away,
You’ll not worry about the cost of living, which is so inflationary…
A free Doctor inside, should you go into insanity!
Takes me weeks to get an appointment for the surgery!
A 20-year sentence, even if you’re a murdering mercenary!

You can get by the parole board with lies and trickery,
Being free within 6 years is not so extraordinary,
They’ll pay your rent, you’ll be probationary…
You can kill again, perhaps a mother and baby?
Get out again, sell your story for a documentary?

But let’s not be gloomy; think of the non-offenders,
Who cannot afford to go out on benders…
And don’t attack customers or bartenders,
They may be unemployed, clerks or builders…
Struggling to live and pay their bills, the poor bleeders!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Wednesday 6th April 2020

04:00hrs: I stirred to life without any jumping or jerking. Most importantly, mental-healthwise, not a sign of the Thought-Storms! I made my way to the wet room for ablutions and an urgent feeling for a wee-wee.

I took the half-full NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) with me for emptying, cleaning and disinfecting. Not an easy job, but I’m using Metal Mickey to get there. But no problems were encountered! Tipped out the contents, rinsed and washed the bucket, and put some Dettol disinfectant in it.

I started to get the nasal cleaning done and had to make a slight change of plans…

It was a close call! Despite there being no rumblings or squelching from the innards to warn me, the movement began before I’d got my bottom on the plastic! Messy! Watery, splashed all over me and the WC! Start to a sudden finish in less than 30-seconds, I reckon! The cleaning up afterwards took a lot longer. Tsk!.

Back to the wash and brush up sessioning. The teeth cleaning went okay. Then that danger zone, shaving, was started. I thought it had gone well. But when I was starting on Little Inchie and Harold’s Haemorrhoids, I caught a reflection in the shaving mirror. I wished I’d taken the camera in now. Tiny trickles of blood down from the neck and chin area, onto my chest and man-breasts. Hehehe!

I got the lesion, piles and neck sorted out rather quickly too! It took ages, and I had pieces of paper towel all over me, but they eventually stopped leaking. These tiny shaving cuts don’t seem to respond to the aftershave as much as the larger ones.

I got the day clothes on, and feeling refreshed, I hobbled back to the kitchen to get the kettle on…

Humph! I had to hasten back to the wet room to utilise the Throne again! This evacuation was, what’s the word? A sort of follow-through; far less content and almost entirely liquid. More cleaning up was required.

Whoops Trotsky Terence was now in complete charge of any rear-end passings from the innards. This called for a dose of the Galpharm to be taken with the brew of Glengettie! Which I took the next thing.

Whoops Another flipping wee-wee, short and sharp again. These came all day long, so much so that Little Inchies Fungal Lesion started bleeding later on. I don’t think I’ve wee-weed so much before. Bladder and Bowels have been upset somehow?

☑ I got the Sphygmomanometer out and took the Blood Pressure readings. Sys 144, DIA 71, which was in the High Blood Pressure red, only just. It was lower than it’s been for a few days now.

☑ The body temperature was so close to target again. It has been so good for the last 3-4 days. Why? Not complaining. I just wish I knew what I’d done right, so next time it drops, I can do it again.

I got the Tuesday blog updated and sent it off to WordPress. Emailed the link. Then, I Pinterested some photographs. Just starting the WP comments, and Carer Richard arrived. He was looking a bit better than yesterday. He gave me a few minutes of chinwagging, which I appreciated. Especially as I could see how tired the lad was.

After Richard had departed, I went back to the WP Comments. Next, onto Facebooking. Then…

Whoops Dizzy Dennis arrived, and so much so, my mind got fogged. I worked (I think), on this blog for several hours, having great difficulty getting the photos to upload again.

Whoops Concentrating was hard enough as it was, but the wee-wees increased in frequency in the afternoon, and this really got to me. I was struggling with all the breaks I had to take. Things were taking ages as I had at times to work out where I was before the weeing! Grrr!

I went through to get the oven on in readiness for the meal making, and the view was staggering. I do love those puffer clouds!

Night Carer. Food. Horrible sleep.

Whoops Can’t get photos to load at all.

Fed-Up!

Inchcock Today: Monday 28th March 2022

MONDAY 28th MARCH 2022

In Brief & Ode

Problems a few, well, really quite a load…
Accifauxpas, bleeding, no real Smug-Mode…
Noisy Herbert, getting on my goad…
Memory blanks, mistakes made? A shitload!
I had to look up my own postcode!
The Thought-Storms constantly flowed…
Wee-weeing? The bucket nearly overflowed!
Stabbed myself with a toothbrush up my nose,
Will it get worse, discommode? Nobody knows…
What evils and stupidity Satan may bestow?
I’ll have a mug of tea and a marshmallow!

Haveth a great day!

05:30hrs, the usual jumping awake, with a verbal “Uhrge!” arrived. I pondered a few seconds to check on the time, day and need to activate the brain to join the body into some form of starting.

My hazy and befuddled brain sorted itself out in a fashion, and I decided to get the sphygmomanometerisationing done first thing. The grey plastic was half-filled before I started this slash. By the time I’d escaped the c1966 recliner, the need for a wee-wee had developed. And the urine flowed and splashed at a rate and pace never known before! How I held onto the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), I don’t know. But obviously, I had been wee-weeing throughout the night.

I still can’t work out how someone in my condition can free themselves from the recliner, take the few paces to the bucket, pass water (ferociously!) and get back down again… even once, and yet, not know he’s done it; when he wakes up? Someone must understand this. A psychologist or somebody? Which followed nearly every one of the wee-wees that followed today, and there were dozens of them! No wonder I can feel the dampness in the protection pants of the damned PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling).

There was much handling of things in washing and cleaning; poor Little Inchies’ fungal lesion started bleeding again later on. Humph!

I finally got around to taking the Blood Pressure. A fine set of figures they were too! SIA 144, DIA 48 and Pulse at 72… No, hang on. The DIA’s a good bit low… I’ll check it out.

No, that’s not too bad, only just in the red area anyway. For some reason, the low DIA brought it up overall a smidgeon. I’ve had it a lot worse than that. Last week one day, it was Sys 171, so I’m not fretting.

I used my Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer. The result was a bit higher this time, almost on the target figure of 35!

All went well, apart from the teeth cleaning, which was bloody. Thanks to ailment number eleven, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley. As it did two days ago when she made me drop the mug of Glengettie, her timing was cruelly well-timed. I was about to put the brush in my mouth, and she struck! Despite it being the brush end than entered my nasal channel, it was so fierce that it brought blood. However, it could have been worse, and I soon dried it up. A bit sore now, though, Hehehe!

I started updating yesterday’s blog, and Carer Richard arrived. The poor lad didn’t look too good; he was obviously weary, worn out, tired at the end of his shift. I brought him around a smidgeon with some nattering and a laugh or two, as much as was possible. I think his blood count was low. He said on leaving, he’s going to take his own medicines and get his head down as soon as he gets home. He still had a chinwag, though; I appreciated that from the man. Bade him good luck and health as he left, taking the taste bags with him for me to the chute.

I then spent hours trying to get the Card Reader to work to get the photos on the computer. I was at the limit of my patience and know-how of what else I could try… and wallah! The card suddenly returned to working mode? Although there have been odd, weird times when it tells me the reader is not recognised. So frustrating, I lost hours on the day messing about, turning everything off and back on, the card in and out of the slot… swearing, and at one point, I almost cried!

Eventually, I got the blog finished and posted it off to WordPress. Thank heavens for that!

Time for a mug of Glengettie!

I took these photographs of the view from the kitchenette window. The first one to the left (South), the second down almost straight ahead (East), finally one to the right (North)

I pressed on with starting this blog going. It was concentrating mind…

My sociable, kind, understanding, compassionate, snotty-nosed neighbour above started his clunking, banging noises with some venom. I think he’s realised he was not so bad yesterday and is making up for it?

I stopped to make a brew of Glengettie, wrapping the tea bag up and placing it in the small waste bag; this is what I saw (on the right here). My initial reaction was… Argh! Another Boll Weevil! Oh dearie me! Out came the sprays, and the kitchen got a good covering in all corners and every hidey-hole or corner that I could get at!

I got what I thought was the offending animal out of the bag – but I could not see if it was a weevil or something else, thanks to Cataracts Kathleen, Glaucoma Gladys and Saccades Sandra.

Well, well, well! Another cock-up made yesterday, discovered! Tsk! I looked at the watch, then the clock. A difference in time showing? I’d forgotten to put the clock forwards with all the others, but a true Masterstroke-Whoopsiedangleplop with the new square, easier-to-see wristwatch! I’d put that backwards instead of forwards!!! Humph! It took me a while to work out what time it was now! So, I now have no idea when I got up this morning.

The sky turned into a bright blue; I’m glad I caught it with the Canon cause minutes later, it had turned back into a bright pale blue shade. It turned out to be a decent effort, I thought for once.

I took a photograph of the Chestnut Way end car park. It appears that the Red Van Man has not used his vehicle since yesterday. Hope he’s not poorly. Time to get some fodder organised.

The evening carer arrived and soon had the medicationalisationing sorted out. Took the waste bag with her to the chute for me on her way out.

I took an easy option tonight. Cooked some mushrooms with balsamic vinegar, squid sauce and chillies powder. (Not as ad as it sounds as it turned out, Hehe!) I sliced some lovely yellow tomatoes and forced myself to cut up some of the sickeningly bitter, foul-tasting Moroccan red tomatoes. Added the last of the ‘Batter bits’, a small apple and a banana. A Lemon and Lime M&S yoghourt that needed a mortgage to buy. And tucked into the feast… Oh, and of course, with the two hot dogs with BBQ sauce added. Flavour rating 7.2/10.

I went to Washed the pots, then me, Putting the trousers back on afterwards by mistake for the jammie bottoms! Tsk! Then settled to watch my favourite TV show, ‘Heartbeat’.

I couldn’t enjoy the programme properly, cause Colin Cramps visited my left hand and fingers. Never known him to be so painful and persistent!

Unbelievably, Colin Cramps stopped tormenting me the very moment that the end credits rolled for ‘Heartbeat’. Ah, well!

I rose for a wee-wee, and boy, had I taken some over the day! On the bright side, Little Inchies lesion was not bleeding. Check the taps (faucets) and electrics, and I got down in the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working recliner.

The Thought-Storms kicked off straight away. They dragged things from over sixty-plus years ago; my errors, bad choices, failures… on and on, they kept coming! Some I had actually forgotten about altogether… they had to be mused over. I’ve no idea why; it only made me more depressed.

Out of desperation for sleep and to escape the storming, I turned the TV back on. Which worked… but at the same time, Colin Cramps attacked again in the same hand!

I think it was gone midnight again before I managed to nod off. Well, that’s not exactly right. I realised I’d not taken the Hemp capsule again! I nodded off many times, but only for a minute, then I’d shoot awake again.

At least the Thought Storms had given up on me, only to be replaced with Self-Hating-Harvey. I suppose that Dementia Doreen is at the route of things…

Inchcock Today: Belated Photos, Comments quips and an Ode or two

Goodeth Morningski!

A nosh from earlier in’t week…

Odd sunsetting photographs.

Van Parking Expert!

White Van man’s excellent Parking!
Within the white lines marking!
No exit-ingress blocking!
No chance of any grid-locking,
Straight as a die, amazing…!
Very RVM (red-van-man) irking!

Blood pressure reading was more controlled,
Sys 150, Dia 71… But the pulse at 90, high-fold?
I’ll check on the web… NHS say 90 is Gold!
So today, BP returns deserve to be extolled!

The body temperature was not so good…
34.4°c, not as high as it should…
Little Inchies fungal-lesion is losing blood!
But things may get better; yes, they should…
But of that, there’s little likelihood!

Blood-Taking Dressing Removed

I thought the drops of blood on the cotton wool had created a humorous face pattern. I took this snap of it. Hehehe! There is rarely any bleeding after the magnificent, caring Nurse Hristina comes to do the blood-taking job, bless her. 💖

This is something that I look forward to!

I’m Beginning to Master the Whistling Kettle!

This morning, I even heard it!

I’ve located the inside of the fill-level marking…
Changing to reading glasses first…
If I use a torch, so I can see the etching…
So underfill it, so I can quench my thirst,
Then it gets louder… the whistling!
Trapping the finger closing the lid is worst!

Tuesday Evenings Meal

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A treat of healthy foods tickled many a tastebud!
Fishcakes and cheesy potato cakes went down a treat!
Smoked haddock in some, cheese too, t’was alreet!
Mushy pea topping in the cakes…
Fishless fish-sticks to complete…
But I didn’t have a pud!
The meal I ate and felt replete!

Changing the bag in the kitchen bin,
Gawd strewth… what was I seeing?
Argh! An Evil Ironclad boll weevil biting beetle?
Have they returned again – bringing their teeth so evil?

I went into a Sherlockian mode, sort of preautopsy…
I got the beast out of the bin, then had a wee-wee…
So glad it was all black, due to my achromatopsy,
It was a biting boll weevil – Whoopsiedangleplopski
Seeing just the one, enough to bring on catalepsy!
A good search around, I could see no more – Whoopee!

Evening Sunset Today

The sky went from grey to this colour within a couple of minutes.

But stayed that hue for only ten minutes?

Finally, a further tribute…

Puckin Chairing a Meeting

This photo really scares me! They’re his advisors too!

Inchcocks Local News Snippets – With Odes – Part 854⅐th

A surprising jump in numbers, innit?
If it keeps on rising, we could be in the shit!
I hope the old face-masks still fit…
I bet folks have lost their vaccination chit?
Again the NHS will reach its capacity limit!

Sorry, I’ve gone off subject cause I’m frit…
Putin’s taking our minds off of it?
Puckin’ Putin makes me want to vomit!
We can name-call, posture and discredit…
I fear it’s only Putin that will profit!

Could we not put these animals in the army again?
Sentence them, and send them to Ukraine?
Arm them with their own machetes and Dunblane?
Hopefully, there they will learn how to die immame!
Decency and empathy to them is impossible to train,
Violence, hatred, bullying… that’s their skills and game,
They deserve to be at the bottom of the food chain!

Why do violent attackers get freed so soon, just asking?
Considering the reoffending rate… it’s amazing?
If they are caught, sometimes culprits are escaping?
They laugh at the courts, a slapped wrist; Horrifying!

A 21-year-old accepted to become a student?
Do they not have some sort of appraisement,
Any checks to find mental dysfunctions impediments?
To protect real students from any imperilment?
The end of appeasement is needed, that’s evident!.

So much nasty violence now, I’m feeling so languescent,
At the shortages of any youths that are moral and decent!
Gangs, muggers, knives… are they scared or always temulent?
Or is it me who’s scared and judged things misdempt?.

Another woman and child basher, his name, Mark Place,
Looks like a natural bully, do you see his face?
I reckon he’ll get out and strike again, as always…
Domestic violence, I knew well in my younger days…
I suppose this is why this irks me more in some ways…
In clink, he can play pool for free on the green blaise…
If the cook serves him ketchup for mayonnaise,
He might try to strangle him, and put him in a daze?
Then his pathetic sentence, they’ll reappraise?.

♫A policeman’s lot is not a happy lot♫, they sangeth…
As more violent East European gangs approacheth…
The bobbies of today get little help from the judges…
Youths stealing cars, on drugs… it beginneth…
Lawlessness, can no one else seeth?
Bobbies being smashed in the teeth?
More and more roaming, violent gangs triumph!
Ten-year-old truants, on drugs and drinketh?
Murderers freed early, to kill again as they pleaseth?
Politicians lying, cheating as they requireth?
Teachers stabbed while trying to teacheth?
For the future of Britain… I do really feareth!

Desperate times for the countries diminishing law,
Parole boards are freeing killers to kill more!
We hear little nowadays from the House of Lords?
Cutting the cost of imprisoning, they applaud…
Well to save money… are they all blinkered?
Save victims! Send the violent away… with a chessboard!
A ludo game, and cut back on their food, you coward!
Luxuries, mobiles, cocaine they can get, but I can’t afford!
Can’t get to see my doctor, or mend my motherboard…
A convicted murderer can get both – and kill again afterwards!
Will we ever see proper justice? I’ll be beggared!

Andrious Sidlauskas: Lithuanian immigrant jailed.
Happening a lot innit?

Just thought I’d update you on how my luck is going…
Well, with excitement, I’m not exactly glowing…
3 houses to find… it must be easier going…
To find just one, than to miss them all as I keep doing…
I used to find this free game compelling,
Now, it’s just embarrassing! Hehehe!

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Sunset Thoughts In Odes

“Oy, Inchie…

“Wot?”

“Wot yer doin’ then?”

“Watchin’ the sunset!”

“Wot for? It ‘appens every night, yer burke?”

“I know it does, yer grumpy git! I photograph it most nights yer know…”

“I know that I am a part of yer ain’t I?”

“Then why ask me wot I’m doing then? You drive me to my homebrew, Ooh!”

“I dunno, just to piss you off, I suppose!”

“Sarcasm from you always flows…”

“Do you know, we’re talking in prose?”

“Go on then, let’s keep it up, see how it goes?

“The Carer will be here soon, let’s see who loses the odeing, you know?

“Just look at how the dying sun still glows..”

“I bet you’d get a better pattern as a Filipino?”

“I hear out there, they drink cappuccino?”.

“Do you like Pizzas from Domino?”

“What’s that got to do with the Ode, dumbo?

“Sod-all, you’ll soon be back on the Vino…”

“You’re in a barmy-mood? Why don’t you just go?

Cause I also want to see the sun’s dying glow!”

“I’m not having that; you a naturist? No, no, no!”

“That’s not nice, do yer want your blood to flow?”

“Ah, but you can’t hurt me physically, though!”

“Not my style, but I can send you loco!”

“Ha! I’m already bonkers; you’re too slow!”

“You are a saddo, fatso, and have no gusto!”

“Go on knob-end, tell me summat I didn’t know!”

“Well, the sun’s beginning to go…!

“I wish you would go; you damage my ego!”

“Why do you have to live on the 12th-floor in Council flats? Can’t you afford a bungalow?”

“Leave me alone. You’re always digging at me; you’re making my anger grow…”

“In the flat, it must be like the Alamo! Waiting for death, in agony, another coffin-seeking Bozo!”

“The Alamo? Well, my life seems to be connected like an imbroglio…”

That much, I understand and know…

“I don’t get out much, so?”

“With your luck, if you did, someone would stab you with a stiletto…”

“Or you stay-in, and old father time will soon say, time for you to go, cheerio!…”

“You being a defeatist would mumble, Righteo!”

“You may even ask him, is there time for one last bacon sarnie, with sourdough?”

“Have yer done? Taking the piss and having your fun?

“Aha! Pillock that didn’t rhyme. I’ve won again, I’ve won!

“Rollocks!”

Part of the Inchies Make Them Laugh-In Ode, Series

Inchcock Today: Ode to Sanity – Part11⅒th

ODE TO THE THOUGHT-STORMS
Inspired while Inchy was waiting for the action to start at his mornings’ Porcelain Throne visitation. It took a while!

The Thought-Storms on the Throne are getting nastier!
No respite, the evacuation stopped halfway, I got edgier…
The questions came at me; it couldn’t be crappier…
It’ll be a while before the pain stops, and I feel any happier!

Any logic in the Thoughts couldn’t have been scantier…
From the fear of loneliness, Putin, and questioning Santa!
Should I have a mug of tea or a can of Fanta?
The Thoughts mingled became silly and schleppier…

Hopes, then worries, self-pity, to pathetic fear!
Strangely, after so many years, I fancied a beer!
The brain was making me feel dizzy, oddly queer…
The nose began to run, and it got even leakier!

My confidence in coping died, I became even qualmier…
The Thought-Storm was driving me balmier…
I noticed that my stomach looked lardier…
And Little Inchies fungal lesion got itchier?

The Thought-Storms had me by the jugular…
I tried to fool them and acted jauntier…
Talking to myself, battling the brain,
I couldn’t move because of the evacuation pain!
The whole situation became worse again…
When Neuropathic Pete got me shaking, jitterier!

I knew that later on, things would calm down, likelier…
Suddenly the room felt cold, much parkier…
I even began to shake and shiver?
Gawd, things were getting nigglier!
I felt I was going even loonier!

The evacuation flowed again, which made me panickier,
Should I give a push, or leave it, which would be riskier?
Then the Thought Storms got even bolshier…
And the room felt like a fridge; it got so much chillier?
Was I still in the recliner dreaming? Or going crazier?

Then for once, I got luckier…
I stood up, feeling pluckier…
The evacuation ended alright,
As I pushed with all my might,
It had been a struggle and fight,
I’d won, no bleeding, I felt leerier…

For the Thought Storms stopped then…
As stubbed my toe on the tungsten…
I don’t usually appreciate the pain often…
But the Thought-Storms stopping was a gem!

Part of the Inchies True Make Them Laugh In Ode Series