Inchcocks 6th Lockdown Escape – To the Pharmacy

Offlymuch I went, I did,
To fetch my Fenbid-40 & MacroBid,
And a tube of Fenbid,
Although it cost me my health and a few quid!

The road was blocked by traffic parked on the pavement,
But I didn’t relent,
A passing car missed me,
To the floor, I nearly went!
Down Winchester Street,
It was a brave feat,
The brakes don’t work…
I carried on, my mission to complete!
More trouble on Hood Street,
Blocked pavement again,
But I an not to be beat!
Went on the road again, such a pain!
Got on Mansfield Road near Rhodes,
But where were the folks?
No muggers, bikers or Schaghticokes,
I think I’ll buy some Artichokes!
I stopped to look down Hadyn Road for a while,
Little traffic, few people that made me smile,
I moved on after a while,
Realised I’d forgot to take my mobile!
Started up the hills,
To fetch my pills,
To cure my ills,
Up ahead, the cottages and vills!
Aha, a Pavement Cyclist was seen!
He scowled at me, he didn’t seem too keen,
On my putting him in my camera screen,
His face looked a little adamantean!
Over down the hill to Carrington,
A place of muggings, violent action,
Blimey, my poetry is terribly bad…
What’s your reaction?
Got near the Chemist shop, a little late,
The retailer shops looking in a bad state,
I wonder, what is their fate,
Bankruptcy, for you mate!
I entered the Chemist shop straight away,
No welcoming smile, did they display,
I wished I was far away,
I tried to look happy, appear to be gay,
My emotions were in disarray,
Got the tablets, and I was away!
I called at Lidle, to get some food, spend my brass,
Noticed, the yobboes had smashed the window glass,
Coronavirus, made the yobboes mad and crass?
Did someone think the glass, a canvas?
Was it done by some drunken dumbass?
Done by a gang of anti-maskers, out to kickass?
Good job the window was made of plexiglass!

I must apologise for the patheticness of this rhyme,

But writing it, I was unwell at the time,

Anne Gyna, stopped me feeling sublime,

My future as a poet is not worth a dime,

But I’ll try to get it better next time!

Inchcock Reveals His Current Fears! – In Rhyme (Of sorts)

Believe it or not, Inchcock created this depiction of his Sock-Glide from memories of a nightmare, that the poor old fart suffered two nights ago. It’s so sad!

Inchcock Reveals His Current Fears!

Reading further may cause harm to your sanity!

Yes, he was young once… he still is, mentally!

Born, and got myself double-pneumonia,
Thrown in the canal, I nearly drowned in 1954,
I got rescued, only scared, wet and sore,
The medics said the boss is going to warn yer,
The Doctor said “You’ll never get brawnier”,
Next, I got shot, then the Duodenal Ulcer,
Top of the charts was ♫24hrs from Tulsa♫,
Then the hernia, and bladder cancer.
Had to have the ticker transplanted, years ago,
It doesn’t bother me now, though, 
Then I went and got shot again,
I knew my bad luck had to end, but when?
I stopped working in the Security industry, then!
I came off my motor-bike in the fog,
Out of hospital, had some police dialogue,
They fined me £20, speeding, I was agog!
Got a job driving a delivery van,
And became quite a Casanovan,
Got made redundant three times, lucky man!
Retired, well it was enforced of course,
But I had little remorse,
Got a part-time job, selling pickles and sauce,
When I reached 70, we had a discourse,
Then the Peripheral Neuropathy was diagnosed,
Got the tablets mixed-up, and overdosed,
They said stay indoor, well, I wasn’t opposed!

Then along came the stroke, of the ischaemic type,
Saccades, as well, of dear, this medical hype,
But I wasn’t one to moan and gripe,
I recovered, but physically, I’m a load of tripe,
They discovered I had diabetes,
Life became full of abstrusities,
My ailments seem to grow complexities.

Next, I’m using a walking stick,
Unbalanced, falling-over, it made me sick,
No choices then, at home I have to stick,
I fell, and gave my neck a crick,
I’m no longer the witty, clever-dick,
But I somehow cope, and that was fantastic.

Then along came to visit us,
The Corona Virus,
Isolation, no going out walking or on a bus,
Every day new instructions, what a fuss,
But at least I got rid of furuncle’s puss!
Until disabilities meant I couldn’t bend down,
And the worst, that really gets me down…
It’s bad enough doing your own syringes,
Is the bloody Sock-Glide, frame,
I gave it a go, I was really game,
But it keeps taking lumps out of my fingers,
And I don’t like these whinges,
Using the Sock-Glide means many cringes,
It’s not just the pain – mentally you’ll find it unhinges!

This claptrap was rit rote, written by Inchcock, with dedication and stupidity in support of the Peterborough & District Failed Philharmonic Orchestra Players, collection fund for the Bankers & Investors Roadkill Hospice Advocacy Society.

The tale in bad rhyme, of Inchies Escape from isolation, to Nottingham City Centre!

Monday, 7th September 2020, Inchcock escapes from captivity and cunningly flees his Woodthorpe Court. To investigate the Coronavirus affects in the City Centre, buy stuff he doesn’t need, cripple his poor feet, and a failed search for a chinwag!

Plans were laid,

For his escapade,

The Escape bid was made,

He was feeling fraught and afraid!

Arriving on Upper Parliament Street,

Alighted the bus, hobbles to Poundland,

Already pains from Relux Roger and his feet,

He spent on superfluous stuff, like crabmeat,

Then to the Bargain shop, wishing he could find a seat!

He bought three things, none of them needed,

His enthusiasm for his escape, now, receeded,

Little Inchies fungal lesion bleeding, succeeded,

His finances, he had further bleeded!

He hobbled along Milton Street then,

Down Clumber Street, he was saddened, when,

He saw the closed shop, there were over ten,

Including his camera shop, he nearly cried then!

Sadly, he made his way to the end,

Feeling lonely and down a bit,

What Coronavirus has created, can we mend?

Oh, dear, a penny he needed to spend!

The urge he had to suspend!

To the corner of Long Row, he did wend!

A photo of Pelham Street he did take,

Then one a shot backwards up Clinton he did make,

Long Row, too, where he took some more,

Off towards his bus stop in the Slab Square,

Paramedics, Security Guards, were there,

The people looked so full of despair!

The rain came down, he took shelter from it,

Under the shop eaves, but it didn’t last long,

He took this photo, he quite liked the resulting effect,

His bladder was full, to the bus stop direct!

En route, Slab Square was photographed,

He tripped on the wheeled trolley walker,

He even managed a little laughter,

When he passed wind and hiccoughed! 

He caught the bus back, a painful drive home,

Got off on Chestnut Walk, glad he finished his roam,

Damn it, he’d forgot to get his shaving foam!

He sheltered from the sudden rain,

Under the cover, and gloom was falling again,

He belched, it smelt like aminomethane,

He hobbled toward home; it was a strain!

He got in his flat,

He untangled his hearing aids from his mask,

It was a fiddley, difficult task!

Made himself a meal that,

Was too big, but not too much fat,

He fell asleep, and that was that!

Not a very good ode this time, uncertainty and confusion were visiting me. Sorry.

Inchcock’s Trip to Nottingham wiv his camera! Comments in bad rhyme!

2Tue28

Inchcock’s Trip to Nottingham

1Mon05

I started out on my trip to town today,

I got through to the lifts, to my dismay,

The elevators all 12-floors below,

I waited patiently before I could go,

I had the scenic view to peruse, though!

1Mon05a

Walking through the link-passage again,

Welcomed by the pouring rain,

Trapped my fingers in the swipe-door, the pain!

I chatted with Angela and Elaine,

Out to get wet, but didn’t complain,

T’was nice to get out of the flats again!

1Mon05b

Off the bus, greeted with a jogging student’s glare,

I just tossed him back, a similar stare,

The rain worked its way, through my jacket,

I wouldn’t mind, but it cost me a packet!

Nottingham City Centre, I wondered why I ever went there!

1Mon06

I remembered though, it was to buy food, starting at Aldi first,

 I hobbled my way down a rainy Glasshouse Street,

At the shop, I bought a lot of fodder, even some Bratwurst,

Then paid, wandered off, for my spending was incomplete,

To Bargain Buys, they’d no potato cakes, that made me curse!

1Mon07

Mansfield Road, rain and Pavement Cyclists abound!

Next a bloke on a Lambretta, I cursed, and moved on,

Nottinghamian’s serenity, smiles, were not to be found,

As to Trinity Square, I was soggily bound!

En route, this bit of Street Art below, I found,

1Mon06a

It lay there, wet, upon the ground,

On Old Street, it was found,

Broken bottles nearby, a battleground.

I moved away, like a limping greyhound!

1Mon08

I got through Trinity Square, left via Kings Walk.

Not many folks about at all?

No one to say hello to, or talk,

Then we had a little rain squall!

1Mon09

Parliament Street had a few more folks around, I have to say,

Unemployed, Students, shoplifters, muggers, no policemen though.

The rain started pouring heavier, not a nice day,

So many eateries in one place, how do they all make any dough? (Hahaha!)

1Mon09b

Down Market Street, I did wobble along,

The rain temporarily having stopped,

I think I sang a joyful song,

The tram gave out a melodic ‘Klong-Klong’,

I might use this photo later, as a ‘Thoughts’ backdrop!

1Mon10

A damp Slab Square, where did the people go?

Is it the rain, are Social Services Inspectors lurking?

Which department are they from, if so?

After illegal immigrants, or claimants working?

A mystery to me, I don’t know.

1Mon13

Nottingham’s cheerless Wheeler Gate, depression flowed,

My target, in Turquoise, the Poundland shop!

Competing coffee shops each side of the road,

Staff sneering at each other, as a goad!

I came out of Poundland, with a massive load,

Two bags on the trolley handles, it went all over the road,

I spent so much, I wondered how much I owed!

1Mon14

To the bus stop home, along South Parade,

Though the tatty, unkempt Slab Square,

A slight Accifauxpas, I’m afraid I made,

The rain started again there,

Got my brolly out, the one for which £10 I paid,

It fell to bits, and to be right and fair,

  I couldn’t bend down, so I left it there!

1Mon14a

Over the Slab Square, to the King Street/Long row junction,

Where the brain struggled to function,

I had a Dizzy Dennis cumulation,

1Mon14b

When the head cleared, and the brain regeared,

With admiration for architect Watson Fothergill grew,

Just looking at his work, my heart cheered.

1Mon14

On the way up Queen Street, the trolley-walker veered,

Very nearly tipping over, that’s something I feard,

It became so unruly, it understeered,

By gum, I thought, this is weird!

Ah, a big-clump of chewing gum from the wheel was cleared,

I must say, I was greatly cheered!

2Tue30

Thank You

WDP 003j2

Inchcockski: Searching for Sanity & Logicality – In bad Rhyme!

Gerald James Timothy Algernon Archibald Inchcock

The Nottinghamian lad knows he is losing it, big time.

Mentally and physically, getting help is hopeless,

 He gets uptight, but he’s completely harmless,

Depressed, untidy, ill and charmless,

He can’t commit suicide, he ain’t got the time,

Even his words don’t properly rhyme!

 

WDP 1Lda

Inchcock: Sadly searching for Sanity

Somewhere, in his tortured labyrinth of a brain,

Lies logic, intelligence, but he can’t find them today,

The brain is active but rarely reliable or decisive,

Also, hesitant, feeble, and the memory’s gone away,

 Some details it retains, and admires he does say,

Mostly about medications, Red Dwarf and Will Hay,

 But his desire, longing for sanity, will not go away!

 

WDP 1L

 However, his efforts, hopes and plans are derisive,

 The mentality-seeking strategies are not conducive,

At least not for 74 years… that’s including today,

He redoubled his spiritual side, and started to pray,

Again in hopes, he’d be semi-sane again, one day,

He talks to his EQ, that’s hyper-sensitive.

 

WDP 1Lcb

He wrote to an Agony Aunt, that was digressive,

 He revealed all, and thought that was impressive!

She said she couldn’t help, and she was sorry,

But why did she throw herself under a lorry?

Inchy thought that was a touch impulsive and excessive!

Regaining logicality, will he ever find a way?

Or remain an idiot, until his dying day?

Another thing, why do his wee-wees always over-spray?

 

This blog was produced without a warning disclaimer.

No claims made for any educationalistical prowess of the author.

Donations and mental assistance will be gladly accepted.

In the event of the writer snuffing it, kindly donate to the Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society, Nottingham Branch. 0115 999999.

Thank You

WDPT02L

A Whoopsiedangleplop Wet-Walk in Nottingham

01a

Amidst a Thought-Storm, an idea came,

For a little ode, a bad one, oh the shame!

But Inchie had to put pen to paper and write it,

Cause he got wet and went arse-over-tit!

But he knows he is to blame,

Still scribbled it, all the same!

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

0001

A volgivagant life brings on mental strife!

A volgivagant life brings on mental strife!

WDPT06R

Formulated by Inchcock, while he was medicationalising Little Inchies Fungal Lesion

5Fri02


Thought of the Day

2020 ttJan 11

Disclaimers:

No animal life was harmed in the production of these odes.

Allergies: They do contain a nut, & can cause laughter (Maybe)

These thoughts have been veganistically prepared.

The contents of this blog discourage suicidal tendencies.

Remainers & Leavers are encouraged to enjoy.

 

Befuddling Thoughts in bad poetry, from Inchcock! Part of the Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe series

6Sat05

WDP 2019B01

I had a thought, the other day,

It would not go away,

But here I am to write it down today,

Huh! I’ve forgotten what it was, Oh, lackaday!

———————————————————————

WDP 003f

I was caught laughing on Monday morning,

The Doctor was worried,

To the psychiatrist, I was hurried,

Now I’m no longer able-bodied,

I believe insanity is dawning!

I’ll have parsnip soup tonight, curried!

———————————————————————

WDP 003k

I worry a lot nowadays,

Through my mind’s confused haze,

Why am I not confident, there’s a trail to blaze?

I’m old, decrepit and stuck in my ways,

 Life’s a pain, it’s been wretched in recent days,

Freeing yourself of worrying can be done; the Doctor says

Watch an old DVD of Dawson’s ‘Say’s Les’,

Act like Tommy Cooper, and wear a fez,

I worry a lot nowadays!

———————————————————————

WDP 01 right

Doing the ablutions is not an easy task!

I’ll cut myself daily having a shave,

To ease the pain, I take my hip-flask,

Whoopsiedangleplops committed,

Dizzy Dennis calls, and blood is flittered,

Shaking Shaun, makes me feel all forlorn,

The dropsies fall, sometimes landing on my corn,

Then I droppeth the showerhead,

Though sometimes, the Sock-Glide instead,

The Sock-Glide removes chunks from my finger,

But in the shower, I become a singer,

An older Elvis, I’m a dead-ringer,

Apart from being short and having no hair,

And I can’t sing, to be fair,

Life can be so cruel and unfair, so there!

But there’s help out there somewhere,

I just don’t know where. But do I care?

———————————————————————

WDP 09aR

Nowadays, and I think it’s a real pity,

Life’s full of astucity, atrocity and a definite caducity,

It’s still easy enough, for me to be friendly and witty,

But sadly, only through a silly internet ditty,

Doing hoovering, hand-washing and other domesticity,

Brings pain, agony in all its ferocity,

Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna, neurotmesis axonotmesisity,

Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, with their tenacity,

All combine, to stop the housework,

Someone call saying; ‘Look at this filthy dust. You idle burke!’

———————————————————————

GCPram

But life’s always been depressing,

It started when I was born you know,

Worries were soon rampant, though,

But I had my health,

  Even if, no wealth,

Britain had its Commonwealth,

I got through using cunning and stealth!


This post was formulated while Inchcock was waiting in the Mary Potter Treatment Centre for his ankle-ulcer, and bruised thigh from his falling off of the L9 bus to be treated. During which he had his Peripheral Neuropathy diagnosed.

Just thought I’d mention it, like.

Part of: The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe Series

 

Inchcockski – Friday 6th December 2019: Such a good start – shame about the end of the day!

1 Dec 06

2019 ttDec 06

Friday 6th December 2019

Samoan: Aso Faraile 6 Tesema 2019

01Dec 06

Jobs in coal mines from 1,200,000 in 1920 to 2,015 in 2018

23:50hrs: I stirred into life, with a clarity of mind, that I had not had for years? Almost thoughtless! I extracted my ever-morphing body from the £300, second-hand, c1968, decaying recliner, stood up, caught my balance, and wobbled off to the kitchen, with, for me, great dexterity! Amazing this is, I thought!

5Fri01WDPh 01WD 0.0.50 As I was stepping over the door divider, the right leg gave the shortest ever Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance, ever. As it began, I grabbed the doorframe with he left hand, and clung on to the four-pronged walking stick with the right, ready to drop it if needed… and the leg started to flail, and it clouted against the corner of the cupboard, making me jump a little, and it was all over? I would think it lasted about ten-seconds or so, now everything is back to normal; apart from the bruise on my leg of course, Haha! Now that was something new, but I was well pleased with it being so short a dance, all the same. I fear I may have sworn out loud when the leg got caught on the cupboard corner. Oh dear! Sorry and my apologies to any of my neighbours who might have heard it!

WDPH01R6On a cheerier note, when I got the medications and medicines out to take, I was over-the-moon when I found I had not missed imbibing the evening dosages! At last, I’d gorrit right for once! Somewhat of a victory there for me, after going for about three or four nights and forgetting to take them every night! Smug-Mode-Adopted!

I moved the handwashing onto the airers, and off to have a wee-wee. This one was a catch-me-out mode of CMOUSTSTBOWV (Catching-Me-Out-Unwilling-Slow-To-Start-Then-Blasting-Out-With-Venom) style. You see how lucky I am really, any average person, with an uncancerous bladder, would miss all this variety and unexpectedness in urinational activities. Hehehe! 

I got on with updating the Thursday post, which, although a longish one, was not handicapped too much by the Neurotransmitter failing finger-ends this morning. I imagine the peripheral neuropathy was still planning on the way to get the involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler dancing going again. Haha! I got it finished though, witin a few hours and had posted it off.

I sent some pictures to Pinterest. Went on the TFZer Facebooking, then went on the WordPress Reader.

5Fri02The ablutions went well. With only four dropsies. Oh yes! Razor (2), Carbolic soap and the toothbrush!

The pins (legs) seemed to have lost the fluid retention, and the signs of the Clopidogrel effects were far less!

5Fri003I dressed in warm clothing and took the black bags to the waste-chute, returned to the flat and collected the large recycling bag, and took it down with me on the way out.

As I entered the Winwood Court through-passage, the lovely warmth greeted me. I took this shop as I got through the first swipe door. 5Fri004The drizzle was still falling lightly. I proceeded in an easterly direction (Haha!), and with no one in the ILC’s Holding and Interview room, I went to have a go at the crossword in the big Winwood Socialisational room. I greeted John ‘Herbert’ as I passed him, and ensconced myself on a snug corner and got the crossword book out. I was sat in a high chair, more comfortable to get out of you know! Neighbour young, fit, rich, good-looking Malcolm (I hate him, Hehehe!) spoke, I gave him his little Christmas treat, Jack Daniels & Coke. Many folks walked by me, but being in the corner, they did not spot me or hear my ‘Good Morning’s’. At least I hope it was that, and not my B.O. Haha!

After almost total failure with the crosswording, I rose up, and hobbled through the second link passage to Winchester Court and joined other residents, waiting in the dry of the lobby, for the bus. I spoke greetings a few. Eddie or Louie answered me, he was looking a little better this morning. I went out to the bus stop, which was overflowing with Winwoodonians. Cindy, Angela, Penny, Mary and many others were in the shelter, and when the bus arrived, other tenants flowed from the foyer out into the drizzle to catch the bus. A lady let me on ahead of her with my three-wheeler. Mercy beaucoup. So I managed to get a side-saddle seat. I screwed myself up in the corner, for I knew the battle to remain seated and not get tipped out of the chair, or trod on by the passing passengers getting on and off the bus, was ahead. Safet-First!

Another not too successful bash at the crossword en route, and we were soon in town. I dropped off at the bottom of Goosegate. I wanted to look for murals to photograph, I knew some were, at least used to be in the Lace Market area.

WDPh 01Up the hill, I wobbled and found myself passing the shop that used to be a Tesco that I worked at in 1962ish. The memories flooded back, it was most likely the happiest times for me, working and finding romance there. It had been a Sex Shop for a long time, but I noticed it was now a Charity shop.

7Sun10a

I could not help but walk in and have a look. Seeing nothing around me much, for I was living what was there so long ago, the memories flowed. A young Marrianne Faithful look-a-like volunteer assistant, (yes, the memories were dominant now), asked me if I was alright. I must have looked either a little pasty or in a dream world state. (Well, yes, I was having a few moments in a reminiscing and regretting mode). I mentioned my past experiences and this being a Tesco store. The eyes raise up, she needed to say no more. I 5Fri005told my farewells and continued up Goosegate to Stoney Street, and down in search of some Street Art to picture. I took this photo of the what was, Price Properties building, with the artwork on the gable end.

WD 0.0.50 As I started to walk along towards where I thought the murals were, I spotted some pretend policemen putting up tape, signs and cones. People were being turned back at the end of the road. Oh, dear, another stabbing or 5Fri006shooting perhaps? So, I turned around to go back to Goosegate. I spotted this Magpie on a mould covered window ledge. The sad bit, bing the sign relating the For Sale of the freehold property. I checked on the web later, out of no [particular interest, on the price. But it just said Sale By Tender. Bet the Magpie’s not bothered either! Hehehe!

1Mon03I called at the Oriental Mart store on Heathcoat Street, to get some more of the Sukang Puti vinegar and some of the salted peanut brittle nibbles. I found the peanuts quickly and spent a long time searching for the vinegar. After much wandering around and having to of different ways to get through. Because of a lack of room to get the walker through with me, I found a similar flavouring. Chinese Distilled vinegar, it had the same high-acidity of 5% as the Indonesian one does, so I bought it. And that was that, all my shopping for the day, two items! No cause for any smugness, though. Cause I’ve got an Ocado delivery coming on Sunday morning. With Thompson and Glengettie Gold teabags, I never want to run out of them again! And some green tomatoes as a treat for myself for Christmas!

5Fri007Up over the hill and down Pelham Street towards Clumber Street and the Slab Square. I noticed a distinct atmosphere from the Nottinghamians today. Finding the right words for it is not easy. An antsiness, nervousness, a sense that anything could explode or erupt at any time? And the Christmas rides, stalls and food outlets on the fayre, were not doing much 5Fri007ctrade at all, despite it being lunchtime.

Looking up one of the almost hidden alleyways of shops on Pelham Street, there was not s soul in sight! The leaseholders had done there best to drum up some trade, with the illegal, bards and advertising. Well, something else, a different danger from Pavement Cyclists, for sight-challenged people to walk into. I took three photographs of Clumber Street as I stopped at the junction.

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Down Long Row to the Slab Square.

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I limped up King Street on to Parliament Street. Where I took this selection of photos, that give a decent representation of what I found.

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5Fri019Then, down Queen Street, to the L9 bus stop.

The bus arrived on time, which caught a couple of regular riders out, who must have been anticipating the usual late arrival of the swap-over bus, and had to get a move on to catch it.

Eddie got on at the next stop, and I delved into the crossword book puzzles (Why do I bother!) It felt like just minutes later, I looked up, and the bus was pulling into the Winwood flats complex. There is, of course, the possibility that I had fallen to sleep en route. Humph!

I asked Eddie if I could carry his bag up to his flat for him, I could see it was heavy for him. But he said not.

I limped through the link-Winwood Lcorridor to the large Social area in Winwood Court, and to the ILC Warden’s holding and interrogation office. Handed out some nibbles and ha a mini-natter, then onwards through the Windwood to Woodthorpe Court link-corridor. Into the cold lift lobby, and up to the flat.

WDP 02lb5Fri21WD 0.0.50 Where I got the lamb chops in the oven and got the handwashing (only a long sleeve shirt and pair of bamboo socks) done, wrung and hung. The finger-end neurotransmitters failed to recognise touch or send the message to the brain again. However, at least they let me get the washing done before kicking-off! I was concerned about some uncomfortable tremblings in the right leg knee, which I thought might be the start of some interest from the Peripheral Neuralgia, in performing one of its Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance routines. But I was so wrong, it was as good as gold all night!

WDP 4GLWD 0.0.50 The intercom lit up and buzzed, it was a young lady from Carrington pharmacy, with this month’s Prescriptions for me. Unfortunately, as I was about to press the door release button, the neurotransmitters died a death once more, and I ended up pressing repeatedly, and this turned everything off on the control panel! Grumph! I got the walking stick and got down as fast as I could to be in time to catch her. Off course, both lifts were on the ground floor, so that made me slower than ever. Arthur Itis, who had been so good to me all day, started to play-up as well. I got down in a bit of a panic, and Cindy told me that Jenny had taken the medication off of the girl and will bring them to the flat for me. So good to me that Jenny is.

WDP 001 LbWD 0.0.50 So, I got back to the flat… to find that the lamb chops had burnt in the oven! After having such a good day, this knocked me back a bit! I turned off the stove and checked out the meat. It was not a good sight. But, I decided to risk them anyway. I put them in the saucepan with the tomatoes and passata to keep warm, and the doorbell chimed.

WDP 09LIt was Jenny, with the medications for me, bless her cotton socks. She brought them into the kitchen for me. I had a job handing her some wine as her Christmas treat, and thanked her profusely. I do appreciate all she does for me, she’s saved my bacon a few times, I can tell yer! ♥

5Fri22I got to sorting meal again. Got it in the bowl on the tray with the dessert and bread ready.

Got the pots washed-up, and settled to dine. To dine, did I say? Have you seen the chop on top of the dish? It was 80% bone! Boy was I annoyed! Still, I sucked what few bits of meat there was off of the bone. And yet, the packet before, had some lovely lamb in it? Far too much bread was eaten with soaking up the tomatoes and juice, to help stave off the hunger that lingered after the meal. Thank You, Mr Iceland!

I got settled down in the rickety recliner, and within minutes I thought I smelt something burning? I went on a search around

5Fri20WD 0.0.50 Aha! I’d left the oven on. I also noticed the state of the pins when I took this photographicalisation. I could tell that Arthur Itis was not in a good mood, too.

WD 0.0.50 I turned off the oven and got back down in hopes of some sleep. And Colin Cramps visited me, legs but mainly the left one, it was far much worse. Perhaps with the Peripheral neuralgia down my right side since the stroke, the damaged neurotransmitters may not be sending the pain messages to the brain? Suits me! Hehehe! Enough agony from the left leg and foot, thank you.

No sleep seemed imminent, so I put on another Bond film, ‘Thunderball’, and soon to sleep I did fall, I wasn’t bothered at all. Haha!

A Little Chunter from Inchcock. In bad, nae, terrible rhyme!

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A Little Chunter from Inchcock

In bad, nae, terrible rhyme!

It’s the day of the criminal, there is no more law,

Empathy, understanding have become just folklore,

I don’t see Police officers in Nottingham, anymore,

 Pavement Cyclists, beggars and shoplifters galore,

Street sleepers, who survive with skills of a detrivore,

Druggies, alcoholics, muggers, both old and mature,

While families dine, smoke cigars and drink their liquor,

All the time, making the poor, feel even sicker!

Disabled with Fit for Work Assessments, have to fight and bicker,

A blind chap got told he can work on a cherry-picker!

Jobseekers told to do psychometric tests, Glory Be!

But if you’re lucky, you’ll live to retire just like me,

But it isn’t what you thought, no rest and freedom, see,

Heart attack, Duodenal Ulcer, and I live on the twelfth-floor,

Peripheral Neuralgia, then a stroke and Arthritis, core!

What next I thought, and the lock broke on the door,

It was mended within three weeks, no need to be sore,

My hot water system went down, so I called help once more,

After nine days of being lied to, ‘We are coming today for sure,

Staying in and awake eight-until-ten, no chance of a bedsore!

But they mended it! It leaked, my clothes wet, the water did pour!

I slipped on the liquid, ending up injured on the floor,

Luckily, the stroke nurse called, so help came to the fore,

Depression and self-hating I began to explore,

I complained at the lack of help, this just caused a furore!

Now the haemorrhoids have returned, bloody and sore!

 

I fank You!