Inchcock Today: Monday 6th June 2022, Diary & Ode

Monday 6th June 2022

 Odes to Sanity Part 23⅛th

Being uneducated, I turned to intuitioning…
To replace my lack of logic and reasoning,
Judgements were instantaneous, with no conscious thinking!
No abductiveness, abstracting or even reasoning…
But I had a flair somehow for conceptual thinking?

I was prepared to tackle problems, if nonintimidating,
Usually, I’d end up morbidly confused and panicking,
Thought Storms, I found myself cathecting…
Often ending with my fearing and self-blaming,
Doreen Dementure started visiting; she’s beyond taming!

Finding you’ve missed or got something wrong; is excruciating!
Yet still, when I stray of a topic to start witwantoning…
Searching, no doubt, for comforting, consoling…
To find someone who can help, and be approbating…
A Doctor mayhaps, who is not so abrogating…
But I’m still here alone… and waiting!

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

MONDAY DIARY

Due to my working well into the morning on yesterday’s blog, I didn’t wake up until 07:15hrs. A good job; the Carer didn’t come early cause I’d left the door locked. So, although still in a haze, I had to force my way free of the £300 second-hand, decrepit, c1968, rickety recliner, and get a wash and shave, then dressed. I remembered to unlock the door first.

Despite my rushing, I remembered that I had the J Sainsbury order arriving twixt 8> and 9:00hrs. I didn’t get a single cut shaving and no teeth bleeding (but that was because I forgot to clean the teeth, Hahaha!) I did manage a stubbed toe and a few dropsies.

I got the blood pressures etc., done quickly as I could. Great figures returned, bearing in mind I was hastily hobbling around after getting up so late, trying to get the Health Checks done before the Carer or Delivery arrived. My body temperature was well down, surprising as I was almost sweating with all the rushing about what I was doing? Hey-Ho!

Well gone 08:00hrs and Carer Richard arrived. He was obviously not going to be able to have a chinwag and check the medications in the drawer as he usually does on a Monday because the poor lad had got three extra calls given him for this morning! I slipped him a bottle and a nibble plonk & chocolates in a bag. I make up a bottle of spring water and ass some orange cordial to it and bang it in the fridge to cool for him each day if he comes; nice chap, but under pressure this morning. He still oversaw me as I took the medications; some didn’t even do that. Wishing him good luck, he took the waste bag on his way out. Bless his cotton socks.

At last, I got the kettle on and took some photographs from the balcony.

In the first photo, RVM (Red-Van-Man) in his favourite No Parking, yellow hatched markings. Raining a fair bit!

I noticed some activity, as a silver car arrived and went to park in between the grey and blue vehicles on Chestnut Ways car park. Then backed out again and went down to the end car park (RDM’s area).

And parked opposite RVM, a lot nearer to the entrance. I spotted the deluge of muddy rainwater in the car park as it hurled down the hill in Woodthorpe Grange Park. Can’t blame them as the rain seemed to be coming heavier now.

I went to wash the tea mug as I took this shot from the kitchenette window. Cunningly knocking over the kitchen tools stand as I did so! Another mess to sort out! I think it’s the first time I’ve handled the baster and quick as I picked them up with the picker-upperer since I bought the set. Hehehe! That was donkey’s years ago.

The intercom flashed, and I admitted the J Sainsbury delivery lad. Who threw the food into the boxes, with the bunch of roses going in at the bottom of the box! (I found out later). Tsk! I rescued the flowers and put them in the trolley walker basket to keep them from harm. Can you see the expression on the orange carrier bag handles? ‘The Scream?’ Hahaha!

I got the bows and bags emptied and sorted into various places. Starting with the fridge and freezer products. I’d made a cock-up with the battered Fish & Chips; I thought I’d just ordered chips? I’d also forgotten that I’d got the vegetarian ice cream ordered from JS and have ordered more now from Iceland for tomorrow; what a plonker! Humph! Glad to see they had some more of the Squid Sauce, which is actually liquid salt made from anchovies, and most tasty too! I’ll try to eat stuff from the freezer today to make room for new ones.

I’d got two boxes of four lemon curd bakes, one for Richard. The freshly podded garden peas had gone up in price by a whopping 30%. Boo! And no country of origin on the packet! So, I do not know what to expect tastewise. The Nicaraguan ones can be bitter and unpleasant. Like the last ones bought, they should be sweeter if they are from Peru. As were the Chilean ones last week.

Another of the instant, phooey, watery evacuations. I tried to take a photo of the much improved looking ankles and plates of meat… but as you can see by the image on the right, it was not a good one. That was due to Peripheral Pete and his neurotransmitter failure, creating another intentional leg flailing dance routine. Why, you ask? I hope… I actually took several photographs, but this one was the only one worth using.
What’s more, this dance went on for a long time, which is rare and worrying. I got a bruise or two hitting the porcelain and cabinets with the leg. I’ll have an investigation later to see what shape it’s left the poor old leg is in.  I must have put them in the wrong setting. Maybe turned the selector too far of not enough?

Hehe! I got a bag on the trolley walker with the roses in, with some drinkies and phoned Deana to tell her they had arrived as treats in thanks. She said she’ll call later, but things can get hectic in a flash for the wardens, all of us old farts that need to keep an eye on.

I got the three small waste bags made up from the delivery rubbish, grabbed metal Micky and went to the door to go to the chute. Drilling noises permeated through the flat. I assumed the workmen were back doing the electrical repairs or updates in the lift lobby. So, I took the Canon camera with me. I could see the wiring hanging down from the ceiling tiles, and the fire door was wedged open; and made my way out of the flat lobby into the lift lobby. I greeted the workmen with a cheery “Morning, lads!” I think I might have just gone into invisible mode at that moment.

I hobbled around the tools, tiles and wires on the lobby floor, and I got to the waste chute room. Dropped the bags down the chute and was back out in no time. All without any trapped or knocked fingers, leg-dances, shakes or walking into anything.

Back in the lift lobby, all the rubbish on the floor had quickly been removed, and there were no signs of untalkative gentlemen anywhere.

Back in the flat, I decided to have an early meal. My aboulomania and pathological indecisiveness reigned. Of course, it took me ages dithering about what to have. Eventually, despite Dementia Doreen, I remembered I wanted to use up some frozen foods today to make room for the superb-tasting NoBull ice cream I’ve ordered from Iceland for tomorrow’s delivery.

I oven cooked a massive amount of chips (fries), to clear a bit of room in the freezer, as you can see. Hehe! I ate far too much. All my good work on the dieting over the last week meant nothing, as I feasted, licking my lips and feeling very guilty!

Taste-Report: The imitation fish sticks were tasty. The imitation smoked kippers in a vegetable sauce were super! The chips and tomatoes were excellent! The unknown origin shelled peas were disappointing. So, the plate of food gets an 8.2/10 Flavour-Rating!

The J Sainsbury cheese twist, and the sourdough bread, were both dry, bland and hard. So neither got eaten entirely. Eurgh! Shame! A score of 3/10 for them. I just thought I’d remind you of the new Sainsbury’s slogan they have adopted. Grangleturds!

Got the washing up done, and a Meridian supervisor came to do a Customer Satisfaction review. I had to be honest with her. Treated her to a choice of nibbles afterwards, though. Dean arrived at almost the same time to collect her treats. I think it’s three or four weeks now before her wedding. She said she particularly liked yellow roses. She took the bag of goodies, and I even remembered to add the strawberries from the fridge.

2: The moment the Meridian gal left… l had to make a swift as was possible hobble to the wet room! It was a close call again! No pushing required, down… splash-splurt; all done in seconds! Med Dioctyl ACleaned up and washed, then took another Dioctyl poo-softener… I’ll start taking them one a day henceforth until they run out, or Trotsky Terrence loses his winning streak over Constipation Konrad! I must remember to ask Carer Richard to read the use-by date on the pot in the morning. I think cataract Kathleen is making my sight a little worse each day.

I got the pot of vegetarian ice cream that I got from JS, and I had a few big spoonfuls. Compared to the No-Moo one from Iceland, it was whiter but too sweet (I’ll still eat it, though, Hehe!) Costlier too! The No-Moo one was yellower, not so well packed and tasted less sugary, which suited me more than the JS one. Especially as these ones coming tomorrow were on offer. From £2.50 down to £1.50! Definitely, a case of and a tasty treat discovered!

I nodded off, emptied bowl on my belly, in the second-hand, £300, charity shop-bought, gungy beige coloured, rickety, c1968 recliner. It was bliss while it lasted, but it only lasted for ten minutes, as the ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ tune burst forth from the door chime.

It was Sarah… or Samantha maybe? She got the medications sorted, but did not check as I took them for any dropped or regurgitated ones. So much for my mentioning this earlier. But she’s a good gal. No treats were accepted this time. Bless her!

I made up some Spring Water bottles, one with lime, one orange and the small one with lemon & lime. I do live well!

At 20:25hrs, I got restarted the WP and got back on Monday’s blog updating. Getting the latest photos uploaded first. So many were not useable, I had no idea I was shaking so much, and somehow a lot of them were lost. A

I got as far as here, and I went on the WordPress Comments. That took longer than I thought it would, nearly midnight now and the eyes are making things hard with the keyboard and screen.

00:15hrs now. No, I’ll have to stop.

TTFN each! 💜

Inchcocks Tuesday 31st May 2022 – With Ode

ODE to MEMORIES

♫ Memories are made of this… ♫

Memories I have of sweets costing a farthing!
Getting skin cancer through over-sunbathing,…
I had sex once when I was thirtysomething…
Being six, Mam ran away, and I learnt snogging,
Christine, her name, I was her plaything!

Skidmarks on my unwashed underclothing.
Trying my hand as a pugilist, boxing…
I never won a bout; I was constantly losing…
So tried the sports club amateur wrestling,
Just one fight, it left me frothing and bleeding,

Years later, I tried my hand at WordPressing,
Got dementia. It is very depressing…
Worked in security, tried a spot of sleuthing,
Caught a crook once; he was very scathing,
He was found not guilty; I was seething!

I went undercover pretending to be birdwatching…
Dressed in camouflage, green and brown clothing…
Binoculars to hand, RT and truncheon packing…
Fell out of the tree as I suspect, watching…
Lost my job; it was gutwrenching!

Realising how bad I was at odes & blogging,
When I was getting on a bit, seventysomething,
I had a period of deep thoughts and soulsearching,
Seeking whatever, a reason to carry on trying…
Now I’m approaching the time for dying…
Oddly enough, there’s no crying, just a bit of sighing!

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

TUESDAY 31st MAY 2022

05:10hrs: After yet another horrendous night of shooting awake, nodding off and bursting back into ersatz life, I gave up; I needed a wee-wee, anyway. But that in itself was a nightmare… well, morning mare!

The regular of late, trickling, waiting and whistling, was followed by an even more extended period of dribbling! At least by taking my time and making sure that things had stopped, I avoided any splashing of the furniture, carpet or my body parts.

I started the sphygmomanometerisationing. BP first, with satisfactory results, as you can see here on the left. A smidge high, but nothing compared to many of last week’s figures for the SYS, at 149, DIA 74, and Pulse 78bpm. Very good! The Chinese (Hong Kong) was built by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, was still showing low. Compared to the target set by the hospital, of 35°c, at 33.7°c. But no worries!

I made up a waste bag and then went to the wet room to check out the feet and ankles that I found affecting my balance and hurting me a smidgeon.

I dug out yesterday’s photo of the pins to compare it with today’s (top).

Quite a change? The DVT and old ankle blotch had gone all artistic and more pronounced. Which is what the pains did as the day developed. They have not been this bad for months? Then I got the kettle on but didn’t get to make a brew as the innards summoned me back to the wet room.

Once again, the motion was reluctant to start moving. So, I had a go at the crossword book, a different one, as the previous one had got me struggling. Got a couple of answers in, and the sludge started coming! I can’t recall ever having a more gooey sticky, pongy evacuation than this was! Half a new toilet roll later, I started the mammoth task of cleaning up. Had a wash, got dressed, and went back to the kitchenette.

Made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana, and got some photos uploaded to CorelDraw, then the computer. Got the Monday blog updated; it took me a long time. During which the feet started stinging even when I was sat down. What’s going off down there?

Carer Richard arrived. The lad didn’t look too good. So I launched some humour at him, to which he responded well. As he got the medications to me, the poor chap started sneezing and coughing, and he was sweating so much! Not that that stopped him for long, he even showed me how to get the Grammarly extension, not to give corrections for sentence building. Unfortunately, it stopped Grammarly from working at all! Hehehe! I laughed because we got it back on and laughed about it. (Phew!) Richard didn’t look any better when he departed, but I think he was a little happier. I hope he is not coming down with any illness. Fingers crossed that he’ll be back tomorrow and feeling better. I got the Monday blog post done last, and the Morrison delivery arrived.

The delivery person brought up the flowers first, so he didn’t damage them, and he went down to the other bags; that was kind of him. These are for the Wardens. He fetched the different parcels, and I got them into the kitchen.

Got the things stored away. There is no frozen today; the freezer would struggle to get a biro or single fruit gum in. At least I got some of the battered chips, not the ones I wanted, but the last ones tasted nice enough. They substituted for battered onions with a tray of mashed turnips? Still, they’ll do for me. The bananas almost made me feel guilty! They looked like a set of parents with their children. Alright, so I’m a little weird at times! It has to be admitted, I fear. My travel into loony-land is taking on a little speed lately. Hehehe!

Cleaner Esther arrived. Talking all the time, picking fault with me not getting out for some exercise… then she took the laundry down to get done. I missed most of what she said. But, I did pick up on my ordering too much food. I’ve long stopped bothering to explain things to her. Hehehe!

I took Morrison’s Amazon food delivery wrappers to the waste chute. The fire door was wedged open into and from the flat’s lobby area. Some work of some sort was taking place. The lighting of some sort, I believe.

I limped (the flipping feet are getting even more painful now?) down through the lift lobby and to the waste room door at the end to the left.

I partly trapped my knuckle in the cast iron lid as I shoved the bags into the chute. Nothing new; I’m becoming something of an expert in doing this!

Back to the flat lobby and through into 72 Woodthorpe Court single apartment. Well, I would; I live there. Hahaha! I may be losing it again here?

I got some Facebooking done and the WordPress reading. Later, got the oven warming up for the nosh, specifically the battered chips.

Esther returned with the washing, all done. Oh, the tongue lashing I suffered. I’ve no idea what they were about, mind you. But they flowed at me without relenting or relaxing for a good few minutes. Deafness can have its advantages. Hehe!

I’ll get the meal started, and then, if I don’t fall asleep, try to get the top Ode-making started. Got the beer-battered chips in the oven and got some WordPress comments answered, then went to check the ovens in the chips… or even the chips in the oven.

Enjoyed this plateful immensely. Especially the beer-battered chips. And soft bloomer sliced bread.

A Taste-rating of 8/10 was given. Then, as I had failed to get any desserts with the food order (my fault, Doreen Dementia’s), I guiltily had one of the baby bananas. You can see how small they were here. Tasty lovely. I’m not sure, but I might have heard it crying as I bit into it! Hahaha!

Washed the pots up. And then proceeded to drop the washing-up liquid bottle to the floor via my right toes. What a mess! Got it sorted out and just finished it.

♫ Oh, Susana ♫ rang out, and in came the Evening Carer. Well, Carers, mob-handed. Hehehe! They got the medications sorted, and we had a three-way natter for a couple of minutes, and off they went. Bless ’em.

I got the TV turned on, and there was no reception at all? Mayhaps the electricians, needed to turn off some connection to get done whatever they were doing? So, I put in a Heartbeat DVD to watch. The message came up No DVD inserted! Oh!

I reset the Freeview system. But only a third at most of the channels were loaded, and all West Midlands? So, reset again, picking the ‘All’ option. This time it came up and seemed to be working. But the DVD wasn’t having it! Humph!

I could see the sky’s colour changing through the paper-thin curtains. And nipped out to take a photo of the unique cloud and sky colouring. Not the brightest I’ve seen by a long shot, but I thought it was an awe-inspiring bit of nature.

Fifteen minutes later, the glow of the sun’s setting permeated the room, and I hobbled into the kitchenette. To take this picture. Another masterpiece of nature. I’m so glad I didn’t fall asleep now. But soo regretted thinking this.

The sixth night on the trot of being unable to get to sleep. Couldn’t read a book, thanks to cataracts, glaucoma and saccades. Put the TV on but could not hear it or read the subtitles easily. But kept springing awake again, seemingly every five minutes or so. After perhaps twenty jump-awakes on the 21st, I gave up and rose onto my feet for a wee-wee. It was hard work and well gone midnight before I drifted off…

Morning all!

Inchcock’s Monday, 30th May 2022

MORNING THOUGHT STORMS ODE

ThoughtStorms attack when I’m not at my best…
Vulnerable, trying to sleep, or feeling undistressed,
The brain, with guilt, and fear, brings self-disgust…
I always get myself uptight and newly distressed…
There are no faults or mistakes that can’t be accessed!
Within minutes, I always become depressed!

The torrents of self-hate cannot be suppressed,
Regurgitated mistakes, from the first to the latest…
Minor, severe and the most pleasantest…
They even dig-up long gone thoughts, the absurdest,
Accepting the blame, taking it on the chin & chest…
I find it often less painful and the wisest!

DEMENTIA DOREEN ODE

I’ve considered booking a visit with a Gerontologist…
But I’d probably forget, and the appointment was missed!
As I did the other month with the dentist,
And every appointment with the chiropodist…
Oh, and last appointment with the urologist,
Can I get help from a witch doctor or voodooist?

Hot & cold water taps (faucets) left running,
Food forgot about cooking, burnt… burning,
Falls that leave me bruised and bleeding…
As for my decision-making, I call it dithering!
My concentration and memory constantly withering…
Vascular Dementia Doreen can be most gruelling!

AILMENTS ODE

Thought-Storms, can be depressing and belittling,
Falls on the sock glide, and I need disentangling…
Cataracts: things often walked into and banging,
Toe Stubbing daily; in fact, at this, I am excelling!
Peripheral neurotransmitters unfortunately dying,
Encouraging the odd right leg wobble and dancing…
Shuddering Shoulder Shirley has the torso flailing…

Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, need overhauling,
Mechanic ticker, my fungal lesion, need sorting…
Arthur Itis, Cartilage Kathy, need medicationalisationing…
Glaucoma Gladys, too, and my belching needs muzzling…
Bladder cancer, which can cause havoc wee-weeing!
The old hearing aids can be a little niggling,
But most of all, I could do with my brain recycling!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

MONDAY 30th MAY 2022

03:15hrs: For the umpteenth time, I sprang into wakefulness. Pondered on getting up, I passed wind and belched, and then I nodded again.

Waking the next time, with the usual jerking and jumping, at 05:25hrs. My mind was confused before I got out of the £300 second-hand c1968 recliner to catch my balance; What day is it? Who’s calling today… is anyone. I think there is… As I rose, got dressed, and found myself in the kitchen, making up some waste bags?

I think I was talking aloud to myself as I suddenly decided to get the ablutions tended to. Off to the wet room with the towel from the airer…

I hit my shoulder on the way through the door; my spatial awareness was obviously impaired this morning. Even as Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley kicked off, I took this in my stride. Even started getting back interest and concentration. But the lackadaisicalness remained. I felt almost laid-back and unconcerned, accepted that things would happen, and saw no point worrying about something? (Not me, at all, what’s was going on here?) No shaving cuts, Dizzy Dennis or Shaking Shaun visits. As I was towelling off, I even remembered that my precious Hristina was on her way to take the DVT blood sample, and the Iceland order was coming twixt 8>10:00hrs.

I finished the waste bag  I’d started earlier and got the computer on. The WordPress blogger was still not letting me open the comments from the editor. Again my outlook changed… I surprised myself at how annoyed I became?

Oh, dearie me, what a messy visit to the Throne it was! Again, it felt like it would be challenging to get the movement started, so I  got the crossword book from the floor cabinet.

How wrong I was! After annoying myself further by failing to make progress with the crossword puzzle, the sloppy mess of an evacuation almost squirted out all over the place. It took me ages to get the area and myself cleaned up, and I was getting hotter under the collar all the time. I became fuming! I went from laid-back to apprehensive, insecure and somewhat pissed off with things?

I was now getting more flummoxed than angry! Changed my PPs (Protection Pants) Confusion Conrad was in charge.

I went back onto the computer and got some photographs loaded. The card reader working seemed to raise my up and down spirits a smidgeon when it let me get them on. This on the right is from last night; I got up at one of the spring awakes to take it.

What was going on with my mood swings? I didn’t understand. But I was whistling to myself as I took this snap of the end car park on Chestnut Way, just beyond Woodthorpe Court. I caught a moving vehicle today! Hehe!

I got the Blood-Pressure and temperature taken. Fair results on the Boot’s all Boot’s Sphygmomanometer, manufactured by ZDEAC (Zhongshan Daguan Electrical Appliance Company Ltd) in Guangdong, China.

My Chinese (Hong Kong) is made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, showed a very low reading this Monday morning (Well. it would do, it’s Monday – Hahaha!), at 34°c.

I went to make a brew of Thompson’s Punjana tea, and ♫ Oh, Susana.. ♫ rang from the door chime. It was my new pal and Carer, Richard. I got him a cold drink to help him cool down; the lad has Diabetes, and sweats all the time, Bless him. A right pair we are; Richard is sweating while I am shivering. Hehe! He looked tired and said he’d not gotten much sleep during his couple of days off. Poor lad! He wasn’t moaning, just answering when I asked him how he’s been sleeping. Rich got the medications sorted and watched me take them, so I didn’t drop any. Then made the wristlet alarm check call for me. I wanted to natter away with him, but I could see he was all in, so I resisted.

After the man had departed, I went on the Google calendar. To check for anything I might have forgotten about. Or put on the wrong day and or time. Haha! Hehehe! I’ve just seen how funny that must have sounded, me; forgetting something… there’s almost a guarantee that I will! I got onto the Sunday blog, updated it, and posted it to WordPress. My gumption seems to have been lifted somewhat by seeing Richard, my Lionheart Carer. If he’s feeling better tomorrow, we can have a better nattering session.

Hello, I think someone above it having some repairs done. A lot of drilling and hammering noises started. Had a wee-wee.

Off to the wet room, I hobbled. I was bending down to retrieve a pencil I’d dropped, and as I wobbled down towards it… a warm damp sensation emanated from Little Inchies Fungal Lesion’s location inside the PPs! Only a tiny spot of bleeding; I was most surprised that it registered with the brain…

An unexpected case of, I got myself washed yet again, freshened up the wee-wee-sprayed legs, and put the trousers in soak. On my removing the pants to put new ones on, what had happened became embarrassingly apparent. It’s a good life innit old age! However, I coped with it pretty calmly, especially compared to how things were earlier in the morning! In fact, I adopted a well deserved.

I was doing the top ode for this blog, and ♫ Oh, Susana.. ♫ rang from the door chime. This time it was heaven-sent Hristina. The DVT haematology nurse comes to take my blood sample for the Warfarin test. Now my spirits were at their peak for the day!

I’d let her down, though. I’d let Dementia Doreen allow me to throw away the wrong part of last week’s assessment and dosages record. She was so sweet about it, though. It caused her to be delayed a while, having to make up a new one. Selfishly, it gave my eyes a little longer to cast over her beauty… Getting carried away there, sorry!

The free Iceland delivery arrived. And the man out the carriers in the doorway for me. But, after getting them through to the kitchenette to sort out, I found a few things that I was not too happy about. I had ordered three 500g bags of small Jersey new potatoes… This above on the right is what they substituted them with: Three 2.5kg bags of potatoes! Is that not 25 times more spuds than I ordered? Hailing Professor Bill Ziegler, in Lab 28, at Manor Laboratories Time Machine Creation wing! (He has a slide rule, you see!), and Tim Price in New Mexico (He has a Mac computer!) for help. And neither of them suffers from Arithmophobia, like wot I do. Hehehe!

However, they also had no (6) sliced bread rolls (£1). But substituted rolls of four rolls that were 2 for £1, charging 85p! I think? Anyway,  they also sent Moroccan tomatoes. That was my own fault (Doreen Dementia, perhaps?) for forgetting how foul they tasted last time I got some! I suppose I could put them out for the rats, but I’m not that cruel! The Strawberries, 3 for £5, two had a day’s life, the other today’s date! They had some beefburger cobs for Richard’s treats on the plus side.

The fridge was looking fuller now, at least. Some stuff is inedible, like the killer tomatoes from Morocco. You’d have laughed seeing me try to make room in the freezer for the potato chips to get in. I distinctly remember being dubious over which of the two packets above to buy, and at the time of my ordering, I realised that there would only be room for one. I thought I’d only ordered one of them… Dementia Doreen again?

After spending several hours writing and amending my mistakes on this blog, I decided it was time to get some nosh… Great balls of fire! It’s 17:00hrs already!!!! The evening carer will be here soon! Gotten Himmel, where did the day go?

Hehe! I took a picture of the evening sky before it started getting dark. Please tell me you can see an animal in the clouds… this was probably noticed with the help of Cataract Kathleen, with support from Glaucoma Gladys.

I made an order for Morrisons to save having it at the weekend. I hope I can get the chips into the fridge… that’s the real reason I ordered this: the fresh curry battered chips. They tasted fantabulous! Guilty!

Got the nosh sorted out. I halved the potatoes I boiled earlier and got them in the oven to crisp off. There are a few crappy, horrible halved Moroccan tomatoes (Eurgh!), the last veg burger, and the last honey yoghourt. It was not too good. Taste 3.3/10.

I was just finishing with the meal, and ♫ Oh. Susana ♫ chimed out, and in came Carer Valerie. Val got the medications sorted, and I took them. I’m glad it was Val cause O could give her one of the massive bags of potatoes that Iceland overloaded me with and know they will not go to waste. The other one is for Richard in the morning, that is, if he wants it, of course. (Well, it seemed a good idea? Hehe!) Thanked Valerie; she took the waste bag as she left; bless her.

Then, the most dubious mission of the day… Trying to get and stay asleep! Mission impossible? Yes, it was! I put the TV on, there was nothing to watch, but that didn’t matter. Usually, I nod off during the commercial breaks, which I did on just about every one of them for three hours, but I only slept for a few minutes, and I shot back awake all the time (of the three hours). Sweet Morpheus was in a proper cantankerous mood!

Memo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit!

Inchcock: Diary & Ode Sat 28th May 2022

MEANDERING MORNING ODE

That should be befuddlement. Ahem!

Looking Back…
In my 20’s, I was known for my efficient fecundity…
Now due to Doreen’s Dementia, I fear discongruity,
I was fit, capable, popular, lit up a room fulgently…
The mind and body fail, leaving inefficacity,
I was praised for my willpower and social feracity!
Now, I am full of inconsequentiality, inferiority,
Decisions were made, taken almost nonchalantly…
Now my brain’s shared twixt dormancy, quiescently,
The few decisions I make now, I do negligently!

The Ailments…
The ailments increasing, I try to meet acceptingly.
When they first started, I reacted rather petulantly…
Some of the new ones give me hassle persistently,
Glaucoma Gladys, Cartilage Cathy & Cataract Kathy,
One that can be nasty is Peripheral Neuropathy…
Nicodemus’ Neurotransmitters can have me falling,
Deaf Duane in both ears, Duodenal Donald, appalling!
Saccades Sandra, makes me see blurry,
The ankle gives way after the Stroke every day.
Hard to keep my balance, but I recover gradually…
The jumping away can have me off of the settee!

On Reflection…
There’s no benefit in moaning and grumbling,
If you’re going to go over, it’s only tumbling…
How hard and where you fall can leave you bleeding…
But a scrape and a bruise is the likeliest thing…
Somehow, I get through them without hospitalising,
I must have had more luck without realising…
At five, I was thrown into the canal, nearly drowning,
I’ve been shot twice and got a battering…
How I’m still here is somewhat baffling…

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

SATURDAY 28TH MAY

04:20hrs: After so many jumping awakes, I had my last one. I was fed up with not sleeping for more than ten minutes or so and got up for a wee-wee. Which proved to be the reason I stayed up…

① Getting the jammie bottoms untied to whip them down, I got in a right mess. The waste cord knot was not to be unknotted!

There I was, fumbling to get the cord untied, and the pre-dribbling started! The embarrassment and panic of the warm wet sensation trickling down my inner legs and jammies made unlocking the knot even harder to get done… I gave up and forced things down… But there was worse to come…

③ I felt the pain as I got over the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), and the bladder was hurting. It felt, to me, like a torrent as if a fireman’s hosepipe was being released… But no! On closer inspection, it was barely trickling, and what bit was coming out sprayed all over the place! But there was worse to come…

④ I saw the blood on my hands as I manipulated things to avoid my having splashes on the carpet.

⑤ Yes, Little Inches Fungal Lesion was bleeding; I suppose all the rushing and pulling to get the cord freed. A little naughty language was uttered. But there was more to come…

⑥ Due to the mixture of waste liquid and blood, I wiggled more than walked with the bucket to get it emptied and sanitised. As I got in the kitchen, I stubbed my toe on the server trolley wheel. But there was still more to come…

⑦ After cleaning the bucket, and getting another one with Dettol disinfectant, to clean up the overspray and spillages in the front room, I turned and knocked the Dettol bottle off the side of the sink. I’ve known one of those plastic bottles to split open before! Cleaned it up, and as if a robot… a disheartened robot, went to clean the front room. Which I managed without any further bother… until…

⑧ I went to take the jammies off and soak them in disinfectant and washing powder. And the need to visit the Porcelain Throne arrived. I wasn’t done with cock-ups yet…

⑨ I knocked my toe against the clothes airer’s wheel, and it was possibly the most excruciating stub ever! I could feel the bile rising now!

⑩ I got in and down on the seat, watching the blood drip from Little Inchies lesion, but there was no pain coming from it? More confusion! The evacuation was reluctant to start, so O got the cream and washed and ointmentated the lesion as I waited for the action to start, back onto the Throne. A sudden spurt, and it was all over in seconds… But what a mess to clean up! Almost liquid! So, I got on with the job, rinsed the jammie bottoms and put them back in a fresh bucket of antiseptic. Then I cleaned my nether regions and got new PPs (Protection Pants).

The relief when I’d got everything sorted was phenomenal. I even think I started singing… Cliff Richard’s ♫’The Young Ones’♫. I believe it was the first one.

I’d come out of it well, really. Apart from the fungal lesion now starting to hurt and Harold’s Haemorrhoids stinging. The stubbed toe had died down, and I put the kettle on.

Self-Satisfied…

That was a rather nasty, severe start to the day,
Believe it or not, the memory is now far away…
I coped and managed, my recovery well underway,
In fact, I’m pleased with myself, I can honestly say!
I got through it all, my depression flewaway!
Mind you, I’m expecting the next coming malady…
There are bound to be more, as there is every day,
No signs of my moaning-mopes left or paranoia!
But the wee-wees stay, frequently with overspray…
I genuinely think this may be a better Saturday!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –.

I got on the computer and loaded the pictures for yesterday’s blog updating and got it done. Very late now, and no carer yet? Ah, it’s the weekend, I forgot. Usually late Sat and Sun.

I took some photos, but the SD reader has gone on strike again, Humph!

Aha! This morning’s Carer was Sara! I was already cheered up with the disasters of this morning finishing; this gave me an extra boost in spirits, Sarah coming. A lovely gal likes a natter, and she is responsive. ☻♥ Got the medications sorted; Sarah always watches me take them if I drop any or one comes back up. She knows I’d likely not see or notice if they did, Bless her. I wish they all did that.

I said my farewells, and my mood lowered a smidgeon when she left, but it was still higher than for ages. I had considered going into a Smug-Mode with getting through the early morning cacophony of cock-ups… but resisted,

I’d better go on the WordPress Reader and comment section now.

How disappointing… Makes me sick!

.

Can’t get on WordPress Comments or save owt! I gave up and got some nosh made. Battered red potato fritters, tomatoes, veg burger and banana to follow. The cakes were too sweet for my taste, but I ate them all. Rated: 7.2/10.

My luck really is changing from this morning. Went to get the ablutions tended to; better late than never. Just one cut shaving, nowt serious, and few dropsies (razor x 2, toothbrush, loofah, and short-picker-upperer), but I had the short picker-upperer to hand. No knocks, dizziness, headbangs, toe-stubbing, Shaking-Shauns, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, or shoulder charging the door frame!

Got dressed so I looked reasonably sane for when the Carer called. (I’ve made a vow not to be naked. Topless or bottomless again, when a nurse or Carer arrives! I’ve been caught with no trousers on by Nicola and no top on by Valerie up to now – Tsk!) I can lock the door and strip off after whoever comes has gone.

I tried the computer again, and it let me load some photographs to my delight. But VDD (Vascular Dementia Doreen) is making it hard for me to recall the time when I took them, although some are obvious. I got them into CorelDraw to resize. And…

♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chimed out, and in walked the evening Carer, Sarah (With an H). She soon sorted the medications, and I insisted she take a tipple and a nibble in; thanks to her. Which she did and took the waste bag out to the chute for me on her way

I locked the door and stripped off, feeling much easier now. Funny how all the cock-ups were got rid of in the early hours today; I’m pleased with that! Then got the photos; some I could remember were put on roughly chronologically. Others I’ll show here:

Rescued Photographs…

Obviously, I must have taken these two in the early hours, although I can’t remember taking them now?

VDD playing me up again. I suppose it is possible I got up during the night to take these? They cost me a lot of time tweaking to get them to be recognisable as what they are.

A mid-morning picture of the end car park on Chestnut Way, mayhaps, taken from the balcony, no doubt. I vaguely recall not being able to open the spring lock on the window and taking it through the glass pane.

I’m sure I had a paranoia moment with this one. I think I could see a face in the central cloud, but it seems to be hiding from me now. Such a shame. I could see a face and a monster in it on the right with this effort. At the time, I think another animal, but that too had been removed by VDD (Vascular Dementia Doreen). This last one of the trio on the left, which held several pairs of eyes and noses when I took it, still does, but somehow far fewer are found?

Ah, the expensive sweet potato battered fritters meal. I did eat it all. But the oversweetness of the potatoes took the edge off it. I already wrote about this, haven’t I? Humph!

Proof of my dedication to losing some fat from my midriff area. Where folds of fat, as it wobbles at the slightest movement. This on the left; was my last inside photograph taken today. It shows my bravely self-imposed limit; I’m allowing myself to nibble chocolate! With crumbs dropped from my nocturnal nibblings in the £300 second-hand, ageing, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working, recliner, cling in the channels of blubber.

No more supposedly well-intended, opening a bar of chocolate, working on the computer, thinking, “Ah, I’ll have another lump of that chocolate” – and finding it had all gone! No More – Never-Again! I have complete faith in my determination to lose weight from my substantively gross belly! Four pieces maximum from now on!

Sleep was stubborn and refused to allow me to nod off. Sweet Morpheus teased me as it got later, and would permit me to drift off, then minutes late startle into wakefulness with a jump! So, I got up and pottered about in the kitchen, taking photos of the changing evening view from the kitchenette window. I spotted some figures in clouds, particularly in the second photo. Not that I can see it now. Humph! Thanks, Doreen Dementia! The close up I took of the orange ribbon of light did not come out very well at all. But I’ve put it on anyway. To show the changing views on offer tonight. The last effort, about ten minutes after the one before, I did like it. Had more contrasting hues and colours, I thought. Back into the recliner, hoping to sleep…

But, Oh, No! Not a chance. So I looked at what was on the TV, and ‘Sudden Impact’, a Dirty Harry film with Clint Eastwood, was just starting. During the first set of commercials, I got some chip-sticks and a bottle of spring water to feast on, got back in the c1968 second-hand recliner, and settled to watch and enjoy the film. I love it when the goodies win! As the next set of adverts came on… Zzzz!

Inchcock Today: Thursday 12th May 2022: Diary with Ode

MORNING THOUGHTS

‘Tis not just the ending of civility and decency…
Nor the gallantry, gentleness and long gone chivalry,
That annoys and really seems to get to me,
Why bother, you said; you’ll soon be just history…

Good question! My reading of mankind’s history…
To me, human actions past and now… are a mystery!
Not that I believe all I read, certainly!
Nothing in the annuls is a certainty!

Human tellurians all lie and cheat to gain a better destiny…
Mostly to gain power, be the top dog, with greed for money,
Wanting to put nowt into the pie…but enjoying the honey,
Smiling at the opportunity for profit via anything phoney!

They’ll pretend to be doing their helpful duty,
But we know that it’s all on the QT…
But knowing we also fail in our duty…
Some even think that life is game and cutsie!

No rent to pay, they steal from their old Auntie,
The wine and dine while she has chip buttie…
The gals go the lads and the lads for tottie…
I think I’m losing the point of this dittie?

You do that when you’ve got Doreen Dementia, a pity…
Yet still, I try to create summat funny and witty…
Well, not often, but I still have the edacity…
If even a swell, the blooming audacity!

Recalling what I going to write is beyond doability!
My memory pad notes show indecipherability…
My nerve ends sends the brain messages… insufficiently,
They get orders back and jerk, jump obediently…

The right leg and arm flail, I may fall, it’s all a farcicality,
Gone on for ages now, so I have a familiarity…
It all affects my confidence and fatiguability…
The Doctors say any treatment is beyond feasibility!

Then there are other ailments, mental and rheumaticky,
They can be as risky, painful and tricky…
Like the fungal lesion bleeding on my dickie!
But, I must not moan and be nitpicky…
I just hope you find this ode a little bit witty!

Thursday 12th May 2022

Nocturnally, I shared the night with Colin Cramps again. His favourite targets were the right leg, left hand, right shoulder and side of the neck.

I lay a while, wondering if I could get back to sleep… but the need for a wee-wee arose, and I disentangled by my mastodonic-sized, wobbly epigastrium and torso’d body from the recliner.

As I was doing the balance exercises, I plopped backwards and ended up in the recliner again. I instantly felt the warm wet sensation from Little Inchies Fungal Lesions! Oh, Clump!

Grabbed metal Mickey and off to the wet room. Bit of a mess made of things, and the pain was pretty bad; cleaning things up and medicating them. On the bright side, (there always is one, you just have to find it, Hehe!). However, Harold’s Haemorrhoids were not bleeding from the fall. Had a wee-wee.

I washed and went to the kitchenette to make a tea brew but forgot to take it with me to the computer, which I found later. Tsk!

I booted the machine up and thought I’d try to get the photos on from yesterday. And after setting up today’s template, I tried my luck. At first, there was no usual response from the SD reader or computer. I spent a while swapping and moving the card in hope… then remembered the mug of Glengettie I’d left in the kitchen. Made another mugful.

Back to the computer, but the tea still did not get drunk. To my surprise, the card was recognised. So I got them in ASAP before the computer changed its mind. 

I was nervously on tenterhooks all the time, trying to rush but not dislodge the card and get each photo onto CorelDraw to touch up. (I don’t so much of that nowadays, you know, touching up. Hehehe! This on the right is a photo of the Spirit vinegar delivered yesterday.

Sphygmomanometerisationing results in Blood Pressure. SYS 149. DIA 72, and the pulse was at 79bpm. Which looked fair enough to me.

The Chinese (Hong Kong) is made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, gave as good a reading as ever, at 34.8°c, another bit of good fortune there!

Later on last night, I had to get up from the recliner, rather grumpily (Yes, me grumpy, hard to believe, I know!) to get some more Phorpain gel to rub in the cramp ridden hands and legs.

I was glad that I did now. The ever later sunset was bootiful! What a hue!

Young Richard, the carer, arrived. He didn’t look too good. So I plied him with some of his favourite goodies. In a rush to get home, and I can’t blame him. Not sure if he’s due tomorrow or not. I think so.

A picture here from yesterday; I think so, anyway.

My favourite puffer clouds were out on display. I couldn’t see any figures or faces in them like we did yesterday, mind you.

An hour or two of doing the Ode for yesterday’s blog, the gurgling from within advised me to make my way to the Porcelain Throne. Which I did! I reckon the Trotsky Terence is about to take control in the rear-end evacuation department.

Pressed on with the blogging again, it’s taking all my time, but I like it! As Dick Emery used to say.

After the rain stopped, I nipped out on the balcony to take a photo of the end of the Chestnut Way car parking antics. The roadway on the corner at the end of the tower block was in a state! Mud had torrented down from Woodthorpe Grange Park and made a right mess for the poor old drivers to get through to get to their cars. Although the Red-Van-Man was okay, being parked on the yellow no parking chevrons, as usual.

.The right hand did a little finger manipulating on its own accord again this morning.

I go so far with the blog and am in a quandary about getting the ablutions done. I’ll explain; I think the Wilko order is due today. Deana might come with a Council lady with the spare key. So, if I go into the wet room, I’ll not hear the door chime. Even if I did, would I get to the door in time? I suppose this means I’ll have to stay dirty? Then be forced to stay up late to get the job done, then?

Still, he can’t get a signal to Nottingham to work!

Came good and early. Soon got me sorted. I did drop a beta-blocker… no, a Codeine when taking the medications, but I was lucky enough to spot it on the carpet. She took the waste bag with her on departing. I fang you!

Resigned to no internet availability from Fries again.

Got a nosh sorted out. Fishcakes with peas in them, potato lumps. Two mini cakes and a horrible lemon cheesecake. Taste: 6.5/10.

Went to do the washing up and tool this snap from the kitchen window. It looks like a microscope view of some bacteria. Hehe! Not one of my better efforts.

I phoned Jenny and Jillie for a natter about nothing. For once, Sweet Morpheus let me join him in slumber a little sooner than usual tonight. And only a few waking ups!

Inchcock v Alto – The Suicide Discussion

“Oi, pay attention, Inchcock; it’s your devoted, friendly, happy-go-lucky Alto-Ego here. Bringing you news and a…

Eh, erum… Oh, Sod-Off!

That’s nice, innit! I’ve come to warn you of the explosions in the gut, and all yer do is get antisocial wiv me?

Well, that’s cause I’m sitting here on the Porcelain Throne for the ninth time today, coping with the eruptions mentioned above in my stomach! You’re a little late in telling me…

Don’t get nasty turd-face, no need for insults! Anyway, if you want to nit-pick, I said explosion, not eruption, so there! Haha! I got here as fast as I could…

For an Alto who claims to have been in existence for thousands of years, you are very childish at times, mate… What were you doing in the guts anyway?

Obvious innit?

No!

Why do they keep sending me to thicko-idiots to threaten and get depressed? If yer must know, I was checking yer body for any new signs of ailment, injuries or the likes…

What for… No, no, don’t tell me… It’s so you can worry, annoy and depress me, innit?

Oh, yes, clever clogs! An’ I did it too! See? Your Blood Pressure has shot up, spittle is building in yer throat, and you’re in agony with trots… I bet Haemorrhoid Harold is bleeding as well?

Yea, putting it that way, you’re nearly right...

Owd on… nearly right? How am I not spot-on then, freckle-balls?

It proved yer lied when you first disturbed me.

You coffin-seeker! Lied, ruggish! Everyfing I say is John-Bull and Cosher!…

Yer? Like, “It’s your devoted, friendly, happy-go-lucky Alto-Ego here? Devoted, friendly, you? You are an unwanted blight on me mentality!

Well, thank you very much; I appreciate that. It proves that I’m doing my job successfully and adequately: “Assure at all times that your client is DFF; Depressed, Frustrated, in Pain. For extra Alto points, you human having suicidal tendencies a minimum of once a day…” “Achieving an 80% success rate is required” – Now that’s in the Alto-Ego job description!

So?

I proved I have the credentials for promotion…

How can you get a promotion when I’m yours, and you are mine? What did you call it? Client or human? You’ve already said you’re stuck with me, so what kind of promotion can you get clever clogs?

Gawd, you’re thick as a pancake with hebetude! When you kick the bucket, snuff it, I might be moved on to a politician, bank director or even Putin. Then…

Putin?

Yer that’d be cushty. We had a bit of a drawback with Putin, never been known before, but his Alto-Ego went mad. He’s had to be delisted. No doubt he’ll be moved to some war immigrant in another country. Putin with me by his side could rule the planet… not that it’s got much time left, mind you…

 Has it not? I expected as much...

Crap! You’re too thick to work owt out, Inchcock; you’ve been reading Billum’s blog, ain’t yer…

Well, yes, and he’s dead right...

You’ll be the dead one, Fungle-Knob: although I’ve not worked out the best way to nobble yer yet. I’ve thought about getting into Putin’s brain; just think of it…

Hang on, I’m getting confused here…

Nothing new there, dog-breath…

Can we start again?

Oh, so now yer want to converse with me? You want to make your feeble, befuddled mini-mind up! Dumbo!

You said you can’t hurt your human?

Oh yer, right, but only physically, now mentally, is another matter. And being as you are already halfway to being bonkers, discussions like these will soon tip you over the edge, and hey-presto, you’ll be dead, and I can put my bid in to be sent to Mr Putin, see… easy!

How are you planning to top me then?

I’m glad yer asked me brain-dead. I see there are three possible options.

One: You’ll get a heart attack from hearing the truth from me…

Two: You’ll do the decent thing and swig a litre of chlorinated bleach and drink it with ten Beta-blockers, Warfarins, and a good swig of liquid Codeine. I know they are regulated, but if you can time it for when you just get the prescriptions delivered, I advise you to take the whole packet of Morphine sulfate to be safe. Then stick all the remaining Enoxaparin Injections into your belly. (Not that it will matter where now). Then open the balcony window, make sure no one is below… No, no! Better not dive out of the window; with your eyesight, there may be someone on the pavement to crush when you land, and that’s not fair. Just stick with the bleach, medications and injections; they should do the job efficiently.

Three: you will have one of your tumbles when the neurotransmitter nerve-ends fail, and you fall forwards, trip over yer walking stick on the way down, and crack yer head a good belt on the sharp corner of the end counter… you’ll basically bleed to death, and be found the following day by a Carer, who after clearing out any valuables, will call the paramedics, but you be declared dead in your kitchenette floor, probably around 08:33hrs tomorrow. Oddly enough, your prescription delivery day, Hehehe! Well, you asked, you gormless dunderhead, Hahaha!

Thanks, I did ask, didn’t I? Well, that’s honest enough, Alto. Although I’m a little concerned at your going into great detail on option two? Suicide. It sounds to me like this is your favoured route to my demise?

Well, it’s the least bother for me, and I can shoot off and go Putin-hunting straight away. I’ll make my report first, of course. Should you plump for committing Hari-Kari, I promise I’ll make a good praising report of you and your actions to the Alto-Ego Controller. They don’t get many of those; I think Florence Nightingale was the last human to get one. You could live in fame in your death, mate!

I could live in fame in my death?’ Somehow, that doesn’t sound very attractive to me at the moment…

Ah, that’s cause you are temporarily not frustrated or depressed. That’s thanks to me, see. Bringing good news and advice to you again… Giving you thoughts that grabbed your attention and shooed away destructive emotions. I really hope you go for the choice to autodarwinate. It makes the most sense all around…

 Maybe for you, but not for me…

Whyever not, Numbskull? I’m sure you are going to say that Altos can’t die, so have no idea what it’s like?

  No, but that’s a good point; what’s your answer to your own question then?

Oh, dearie me, my ugly duckling. Is it not so obvious what I was referring to? I shall miss you your ignorance, unknowingness, innocence, duality, absent-mindedness, scepticism, ambivalence, and lack of sophistication when I’ve moved on… thankfully!

No!

Oh, you dense creature! What power I have given you…

Wot power ‘ave you given me?

How many people have the knowledge of when they are going to die?

How do I know? You’re bamboozling me again…

No, Knuckle-Mouth! I’m empowering you. You can pick your timing to take the suicide route, lock the door to prevent any interruptions, and just resign yourself to the nothingness that will follow, a certainty within minutes… minutes of pain, yes. Still, you will be well prepared for that, having led a pain-ridden emotional and physical life, so what does a couple of minutes of further pain mean to you? Nothing! No ailments, no food orders to get wrong, substituted items, nothing to forget or learn, no crime, no emotional topsy-turvy; a state of utter bliss is death! Which is where you will be going, mate – into nothingness – no noisy neighbour above you, no rent, tax or fuel prices rising to fret over.

Inchcock & Alto-Ego, launch into Q&A Odeing Mode…

  You keep harking back to suicide.

That is for you, my Button-Willy, to decide!

But will life never be indemnified?

Not until your death is verified!

Suicide? All my hopes will be pulverised,

Which is better than being lobotomised!

My friends will miss me, far and wide…

Friends, you? Now your telling porky-pies!

This conversation is like Morecome and Wise!

Death can be a pleasure, do you realise?

I’m not so sure… it’s a sacrifice?

In death, there’ll be no one who vilifies?

My ailment, all gone, pain defies…

Freedom, nothing left to visualise!

So, Covid has gone; no need to immunise?

You must get your thoughts strategised!

The thought of nothing does tantalise…

Alto sensed Inchcocks resistance to suicide weakening…

That’s the spirit, Inchcock, my old fruit…

Hold a minute, just wait...

Indeed, my old cocker, you take your time…

Take me time? What in or at?

Choosing which way to die…

I’m not sure how we got into discussing suicide?

Well, you wanted to know the best way to do it.

I did?

Yes, plan B you went for…

Plan B?

Yes, you decided you’ll do the decent thing and swig a litre of chlorinated bleach and drink it with ten Beta-blockers, Warfarins, and a good swig of liquid Codeine. (I know they are regulated, but if you can time it for when you just get the prescriptions delivered, you to take the whole packet of Morphine sulfate to be safe.) Then stick all the remaining Enoxaparin Injections into your belly.

Are you sure I chose this way and agreed?

Course you did Snot-Head, and it makes common sense, my friend! And once you’ve succeeded in suiciding, there’ll be no more painful battles with Trotsky Terence or Constipation Konrad! Now, this must be worth topping yourself for?

You really thought I was going to do it, didn’t you?

Well, yes! Are you not going to?

Too bloody true I ain’t going to.

Gragnangles! But I’ll be back!

Inchcock on the Throne realised Alto had truly flit…
He finished his evacuation, messy, but just a bit,
Pondered over suicide, blaming Alt-Inchie, the shit!
Putting it into my mind, a disgusting gambit!

All a part of Alto & Inchies’ mutual brinksmanship…
A strange sort of unwanted mental partnership,
Full of insults, bullying and unsportsmanship,
Alto’s getting nasty, pretending to be a prophet?

If he expects Gerry to top himself, there’s a blip…
Even suggesting it shows Alto’s unsportsmanship,
Suicide? No, he’d instead favour the opposite,
Even living with ailments and a financial deficit!

More critical now, Harold’s Haemorrhoids do bleed,
He cleans things, ointmentates, & takes some hempseed,
It’ll be painful; he mustn’t hesitate and proceed…
Agonisingly he did, then he wee-wee’d…

He turned his attention to what to self-feed,
From his fridge and freezer, he took a swede…
Leeks, mushrooms, tomatoes and bread, just a snead,
Prepped and got them cooking; it smelt good indeed.

Off to the wet room. where he passed wind and pee’d,
Settled in his recliner, he nodded off; he was so pleased,
Woke two hours later, surprised yet frustrated…
At the smell of burnt food, he recognised!

All his vegetables had been pureed!
Burnt potatoes, uneatable, he had to concede…
A Whoopsiedangleplop, he just didn’t need…
He cleaned the mess to the bucket he pee’d!

The meal he ate for dinner was not one of his best…
A can of peas, an out-of-date vegetarian duck breast,
The whole meal went in the bin, top join the rest…
Which annoyed him, and he began to get stressed!

Thought-Storms stopped him from getting to sleep…
His life, he began to despise and threap…
Suicide? Not a failure living, even in this muckheap…
His life is not good, but living he wants to keep,

Though he passes evacuations, the liquid then concrete…
Has cataracts, is deaf, tumbles over, and has terrible feet…
There are times when he finds life semi-sweet,
Screw Alto; his life is not yet over or complete!

He vows to ignore Alto-Ego, on his next visit…
Alto’s intrusions, he’ll try his best to prohibit…
He belched; the extruding wind tasted like horseshit,
Inchcock pondered, is it me or Alto, that’s the eejit?

Dizzy Dennis called; his head felt as if it was in orbit…
Thoughts coming so fast, he can’t cope, dagnabit!
He thinks this is becoming a nightly habit…
And he had Alto to return, the nasty dipshit!

But this time, Inchcock was determined, not frit…
He decided to keep up his flagging spirit…
Amidst words like Grongletits and Gawdammit!
He got up and this Ode he writ…
Hoping Alto stays in his pit!

Part of Inchcocks Make Them Laugh Series

Inchcock & Alto-Ego Morning Spat

A cunning, underhand win for Alto!

I’d had a dream-ridden, ever-waking up, nodding off, back to kip, more nightmares, waking up… a terrible night. I even started to feel sorry for him, then realised it was me! As I reluctantly got my head together, I expected the horrendous Thought-Storms would arrive. But no! Alto-Ego Inchie was on at me like a shot…

Boy, were we both in a niggly mood!

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“Do you know that you were talking and farting in yer sleep last night?… Mind you, they both made about the same sounds and sense… Hehehe!

“Oh, sod-off Alto, I’m not up to coping with your claptrap yet…”

“Who the $%&+💣 are you talking to? Wot the hecks up wiv yer?”