Inchcockski – Wednesday 21st October 2020: I had a few Cacoethes urges, today. Mmm?

Wednesday 21st October 2020

Punjabi: ਬੁੱਧਵਾਰ 21 ਅਕਤੂਬਰ 2020

23:00hrs (Tuesday): I stirred after at least an hours sleep, (Humph!) needing a wee-wee. I forced my gargantuan-bellied body out of the c1968 recliner, stood to catch my balance, grabbed metal Mickey (the four-pronged walking stick) and made my way to the wet room. I keep a clear basin in their nowadays, to check the colour, against the NHS guide. It was still on code six colouring, so no progress gleaned whatsoever with using the Dioctyl® antibiotic capsules for nearly a week now. Humph! I had a good wash and antisepticating session and made my way to the kitchenette, to get the kettle on first, then get the Health-Checks done.

The new slow-motion, noisy tin-encased BP sphygmomanometer, showed a highish level for the SYS again, but the pulse was down a fair bit. (I checked later with Mr Google, about the Sys 164/Dia 167 level) He told me: Blood pressure 164/67 – what does it mean?: Your blood pressure reading of 164/67 indicates Hypertension Stage 2. It is the second stage of high blood pressure. Hypertension Stage 2 means that the heart has to work hard too to ensure a supply of the entire tissue in the body. Oh!

I used the non-contact thermometer and got a reading of 32.1°c, which I thought was a bit too low.

So I tried it again and got 33,9°c, I held it a little closer to the forehead this time. I’ll still get to find out how close it should be when using. I got the magnifying glass and had a look at the instructions, not easy; it was in such minuscule writing. But with my SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) shaking my about, it was hard to hold the paper steady, and being so magnified, every movement blurred. I found it was a recommended distance of 3-5cm. After some farting about with arithmophobia infected calculations, I think that 1.5748cm = 4 inches, which is about what I had the second reading of. I’m not sure if I have Numerophobia, mathematics-anxiety or arithmophobia, but 3 to 5 inches then? Hang, that’s where I started with centimetres! I’ve got a headache now!

I stopped to take a snap of the morning view, but it didn’t come out well.

I took the medications, but no requirement for any of the pathetic, pitiable, low, Peptac antacid medicine this morning, as Duodenal Donald is currently giving my only the slightest bit of pain? Bless him!

So, after discovering from Mr Google, that I was about to snuff it, through hypertension, or high-blood-pressure, I made a mug of Thompsons Punjana tea. It might not help the situation, but this. Extra Strong Assam, and the Glengettie teas, are all super-tasty! Hehe!

I got onto the computer, but only had time to boot it up, and the demand for a Porcelain-Throne visit arrived. The balance was right as I hobbled to the wet room, no walking into anything, this was good!

I got settled on the seat, and within a few seconds and a little encouraging pushing on my behalf, the action started – painful, yes, but no more than usual, all over fairly quickly, and tons of it! But no chance to do a turd examination for the hospital checking-log, the mass had disappeared from view! No mess, the tiniest specs of blood, and even Harold’s Haemorrhoids were relatively calm as well! But experience told me not to get into any hopeful or smug modes, yet! One flush and the TP vanished, surprises galore this Wednesday morning!

A good wash, medicationalisationing and disinfecting, and back to the computer. I concentrated on the updating of the Tuesday blog, photographs uploaded first. With Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters also being so kind to me, I achieved my goal quicker today. Now, I couldn’t help but get into a Smug-Mode! Hahaha! This luck can’t last, yer no!

I posted the blog off then Pinterested some snaps. Then did the Facebook catching-up. Then went on the WordPress Reader section.

Duodenal Donald started to warm up with his usual tightening in readiness for a full-blown ‘Let’s give Inchcock some agony’ attack. At the same time, the innards started rumbling, so I can expect to return to the Porcelain Throne again soon.

I made a pot of tatties and veg with cheese for brekkers, but as I was making it, I had to rush, hell-for-leather to the Porcelain Thrones second-visitation! However, I can safely report, this session was an emphatical improvement; on the previous few days! However (There’s always something to gum the works up!), the tank needed filling by hand, and three flushes to move things down the hole. I had an excellent wash-up session.

Back to the kitchen to try and rescue the pot of potatoes. I added a drop more freshly boiled was to the pot, mixed some vegetable stock and Squid vinegar to it and had an excellent bashing up with it. Ate it all, enjoyed it and was feeling okay in myself.

I returned to the kitchen to take these three shots on the right. Two of along Chestnut Walk in the drizzle and dank, dark surroundings, eerie eh? The last one, I took directly opposite the impossible to get to clean without being an olympian athlete. The light & view-blocking, rain letting in, with a ledge that sticks out so far, one cannot see down onto the roadway to take pictures of the incoming fire engines and paramedic ambulances. The layout, that was most likely created and designed by a person with gerontophobia. A confirmed inter-generational hater or who loves to hear of some old git tumbling off of his step ladder, each time he tries to reach up to get at his new windows to clean them. Just thought I’d mention it!

As I was putting the camera away, I saw that I’d left the hot water tap (faucet) running yet again! Boulderclumps! What an imbecilic nincompoop! I seem to be doing this every other day lately!

I made a mug of Glengettie tea and had a blast on the computerisationing for an hour or so, and then it was time for the ablutioning to get done. Dare not leave it any later, because I’ve no idea what time the vampire nurse will be calling to take my blood sample.

Doing the ablutions today is going to be either fun, a farce, or both, with no hot tap water to shave! The shower should have hot water, though.

I stripped and got the teggies cleaned, then reboiled the kettle and took it with me back to the wet room, to use taking a shave. It was not a comfortable, messy shave, and certainly not a good one, but I managed. My fault anyway. Humph!

Thank heaven, the shower water was nice and hot. But, lamentably, several dropsies. I had two hefty bangs against the grab rail, a toe-stubbing against the shower chair, spoilt the experience. Then, doing the medications, I knocked many items of of the floor cabinet. So things didn’t end up too well for me, but I’ve had much worse sessions, so no complaints. I can say, however, that the Morrison bought lemon shower gel, really was refreshing and smelt okay to me!.

All sorted out, and I returned to the computer room, and nipped out on the balcony, to take some photographs. The first one from the opened window to the right, weel, the left one as well. They both have the near-lethal, metal spring opening clips, that have caused a fitter to bleed, even after I’d warned him, and many a stranger to get blood-blisters opening it, both of them as well as myself on many occasions! I reported this fault to the Nottingham City Homes Repairs team, who about six weeks later, sent two men down to take an investigative look, one of them got the blood blister and cut. They agreed it was dangerous and should not have been put in old people residences and said they would report it as soon as they get back to base. That was encouraging. It was also many months ago, and I’ve heard nothing from them since. Still, yer doesn’t like to complain does yer.

The second photo was taken from the injury-causing, left end window. That was of a stretch of Chestnut Walk to towards the but turn-around island. A few red vehicles on site today, this will need reporting to the Ohio State, National Red Car Monitoring head-honcho, Billumski and his, Secretary Lisa!

I set about making a template for tomorrows blog. Got it finished… Hello, Herberts got his drill out again, flipping loud too! Still, as long as the flamboyant, happy-go-lucky, sociable chap is happy making his train sets. I could have said, “As long as the grumpy, sour, antisocial, snotty, stand-offish, aloof, eremetic old gentleman is happy…”

I got a landline call from Nottingham At Care HQ, to tell me that the INR vampire nurse was outside trying to get in, and the intercom was not working. Pickleglobknobs!

I told the lady that I’d get down as quickly as I could to let her in. Fumbled about getting the jammy-bottoms off and some trousers on. I dug out the keys and fob, put the mask on, and as I got to the door, the landline rang again. It was the same lady as before, to tell me that the Vampire Nurse had given up, she’ll try again tomorrow!

I bungled about getting the trousers back off, and the jammies back on. Put the keys and fob back, and hung the mask on the trolley bars. Life gets so very complicated, blustery and confusing, dunnit?

I turned off the computer, and started to put the potatoes from the crock-pot into the saucepan which held the Chilli-Con-Carne, with chopped tomatoes, onions and a can of baked beans added, put some Squid to the mix, and gave the food medley a jolly-good stirring.

Burning my right-hand index finger as I did so, but at least there was no pain, just the odd burning smell of the skin. Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters had failed to inform the brain again. (I still find it humorous when this happens, Hehehe!)

I phoned Jenny, and we had a marathon nattering session which I enjoyed. Top-quality grumping and chuntering took place, and we were in our element, we do this so well, I reckon. Hahaha! During the chinwagging, Jenny asked me what the noise in the background was. I explained that it was Herbert, drilling, doing his train sets. It must have been loud for Jen to hear it on the other end of the line? (Although it didn’t last much longer, thankfully)

I thought I could smell something burning, panicked a smidge, told Jenny I had to check things out with the cooking and would be back, and blustered my way to the kitchen… to find that nothing was burning at all, in fact; instead of turning down the heat on the saucepan when I’d left to phone Jenny, I’d turned it off! What a plonker! As I returned, I noticed a smell of fish coming from somewhere in the hallway, so that might have been what got me going, either Josie or Malcolm must have been cooking fish, Haha!

I got back to Jenny, who’d waited patiently for me, and we continued our conversationing. A few more chunter and laughs, I even heard Franks voice in the background wishing me well saying hello, and I’ve never heard him before – I think the Chilli is good for my earholes? I am a fool! We parted with a farewell, and I went back to doing the meal.

Fifteen minutes later, the Chilli-Con-Carni was all served up on the tray, with two Irish Potato Farls and a pot of lemon mousse on the tray. By, gum, I eat well for an old fart!

I took the evening medications with me, so I could take the new tablets as recommended, with food. And there was a right bucketload of that in the dish, by gum it was good—Flavour Rating: 8.4/10, highly acceptable. Hopefully, in the morning, the first visit to the Porcelain Throne might be more comfortable… or not. Haha! My EQ tells me it could well be, though!

 Annoyingly, Sweet Morpheus was a long time coming again, but when he did, I had an unbroken straight-through, four-and-a-half hours of sweet bliss! Ahh!

Inchcock – Tues 20 Oct 20: An incomprehensible, abstruse, recondite, discommoding day!

TFZers Going for a ride?

Tuesday 20th October 2020

Finnish: Tiistai 20 Lokakuuta 2020

00:00hrs: I awoke, with a medley of muffled and confusing thoughts hammering around the brain box. No wee-wee or Porcelain Throne needs to distract me this morning, meant a few minutes and headache gained by the time I pulled my concentration away from the malaise, of the muddled-melange of omnium-gatherum thoughts, fears, ambitions, and intentions, which did not stand a cat-in-hells chance of success, I’d nodded off again!

00:30hrs: The second-stirring: Suddenly wide awake, no Thought Storms either! I heaved, huffed and puffed, released my colossally-stomached with scrawny limbs attached, body and the bald-head, (No mean-feat at my weight, I can tell yer!), from the c1968 recliner. To find that Duodenal Donald was in a bad mood again, and giving me some stick. (It’s about time he gave me a break!) Still, there was no wee-wee wanted? Caught my balance easily enough this time, no falling back down on the recliner and bursting Harold’s Haemorrhoids… A tentative Smug-Mode was adopted! And I limped off to the kitchenette with Metal-Mickey. To get the Health Checks done.

I’ve got the hang of the new BP sphygmomanometer, but I must remember it takes three times as long to come to a result, as the old one did. If I remember, I’ll try the old one again in the morning, to see if it’s not the ‘New’ Duracell batteries that are the problem). The SYS was high again, Tsk!

The  No-Touch thermometer worked alright, but it turns itself off too quickly. I’ll try to make sure the camera is nearby in future; it read at first as 32.4°c – I retook it, and got 33.9°c? Another thing to remember, I must look it up on Mr Google, to find out how far away from the head to take the temperature from. I’m doing it about four inches? I hope any advice I get is in proper inches and not metric.

Took the medications and made a brew of Glengettie tea. Note in the picture, the Morrison skewer? These have a thick end and are easier for when I want a really strong cuppa, I can squash the bag against the cup. Difficult, nae, impossible when Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters are playing up.

I got a few potatoes in the crock-pot, plenty of Squid and distilled vinegar to flavour them. I added a bit of black pepper to them later on.  I’ll turn them on later. (Famous last words?)

I may not be a Chef de cuisine, but for a 44-year-old, failure, I keep trying. I’m getting betterer… Alright, alright, so I got the age a few months out! Hahaha!

I got onto the computer and answered some comments. Went on the WordPress Reader section. Then got on with updating the Monday blog, which seemed to take longer than ever. Mind you, a lot of photograph uploads, and doctoring was needed to the bad ones, so it looks like I took them right, the first time.

Nicodemus’ neurotransmitters were making it hard work, and Duodenal Donald was not helping my concentration at all. (Sodding useless Peptac!)

Aha, a sudden but non-urgent call to the Porcelain Throne arrived! So I saved all the work, turned of Computer Cameron, and decided to get the Ablutions done after the Throne Session. (Did yer see that? A cantlet of organisational-ability crept in, there! Oh, yes!)

Another stand-up job, too early to use the shower, with the Iceland delivery being expected early today.

Well, the Throne Session caught me out altogether. With being on the Dioctyl©, and taking the Macrogol, I anticipated a much easier session than the one I suffered! And with having eaten the Chilli-Con-Carne last night, I believed things would go a lot easier this time – But No! Constipaiton Konrad seems to be counter-attacking! After four days of lesseningly painful sessions, this one bounced back to Defcon Two standards! Agonyisticalisations! The Silver-Lining Search results: At least there was only a smidgeon of bleeding. I think the nurse is due to call me this week, to see how things are going with the wee-weeing, and pooping, she’s going to be happy with me, I don’t think!

However, looking through rose-coloured glasses, and being sanguine, the ablution session went not too bad at all… well, it could have been worse, maybe not one of my best ones, perhaps…

Alright, it was pandemonium Accifauxpa-wise! More dropsies than ever before. (Thank you, Nicodemus!) During the series of droppages, I broke the best razor, a bottle of aftershave slipped, and the spray-top cover burst open (Mind you, I smell nice now, Haha!) and I cannot get the cap off now! Cut my finger retrieving a plastic double-bladed replacement razor. Cracked my head against the sink when I dropped and bent down to get the body spray.

The Silver-Lining Search results: No toe-stubbing, no knocking anything off of anywhere, and only one incident of walking into the door frame, and that was a minor incident. And this cheered me up, the new haemorrhoid cream worked a treat! But then again, there was no bleeding when I used it. So it’ll need testing-out when applied as the blood is flowing. It could have been worse, really methinks!

As I came out of the wet-room, a series on unexpected, involuntary passings of wind shook me a bit, and the tummy began to ache instantly and has stayed that way for hours. I’m going downhill again. Tsk!

I did some more updating, and Duodenal Donald seemed to ease off considerably, but the innards were still aching badly. (Who can’t win? Humph!) I stopped computerisationing again, and put the kettle on, and popped out on the balcony to take a couple of photographicalisations.

The first one, to my right, was of the grave-hill path up into the park, from Chestnut Walk. Many months since I’ve been up[ there, and I remember struggling to get up it as well, Hey-Ho! Then, to my left and a slightly zoomed-in shot of Winchester Street. The building bottom left, shows the top-floor lights on, this is the National Laundry premises. Beneath them, are various rented garages, with a couple of Arthur Daley, “No problem you can have the MOT now…” type characters. Hehehe!

I got a message from Iceland informing me that I should be getting the delivery twixt 08:20 and 09:00hrs. Fair enough! I checked the email they mentioned. They have no frozen baked potatoes, so a refund had been arranged.

Shortly, the Intercom sounded, luckily Herbert was taking a break from his clattering and banging, so I heard it alright. I saw it was the Iceland deliveryman, pressed him in, and got a can of G&T for him. He came up and put the carriers inside the door for me in the hall, that was kind of him.

Slipped him the thank you can of plonk, and took the carrier bags through to the kitchen to sort out. As you can see, there was not a lot of stuff ordered today. Most of it was made up of plank for Christmas pressies, so I do not need to get any later. I’m all ready now, in case I’m kept in when the bowel op is done. See that as well? Forward-planning? Me? Oh, Yes!

This is all I had that was not for Christmas pressies. But I’m going to make up a Morrison order for next week. Here I go…

I got the Morrison order done, got confirmation, then realised I’d made it for this Thursday, not next Thursday. Doah!

But felt suddenly so bad, Duodenal Donald, Dizzy Dennis, and I’m swaying with hardly any control. I left it, got something to eat cooking. I rang Jenny to see if she had any details of the window cleaner arriving. All messy, truth we do not know if he is coming or not.

In the morning, the rest of today’s events are just a blur. No idea what I had to eat, no photo on the card, nothing recalled until I was stripped and in the c1968 recliner, and spent hours trying to get to sleep, it was as if I was drunk or something. It took me hours to nod off, then I sprang awake an hour later, at 23:00hrs, in need of a wee-wee… Tsk! 

Inchcockski – Monday 19th October 2020: Sleep? What’s that then!

TFZer Party, with a special guest!

Monday 19th October 2020

Welsh: Dydd Llun 19eg Hydref 2020

02:40hrs: I stirred back into mu usual confused semi alive state, and was immediately aware that something was wrong, not right or unusual. But what?

The World-Wide Hum was blasting away, as usual, I was still uncertain what it was, for a few moments, and then minutes. Aha! Gorrit! No demands were being made of me, to use the Porcelain Throne, or for a wee-wee! Now I was more puzzled than before I’d worked out what it was that was annoying me. I had a terribly dry and sore throat, tight chest, and breathing was a bit of an effort, with sharp intakes of breath all the time. It sounds like a chill or cold to me.

 The moment I began to encourage my colossal belly with a body attached to it out of the c1968 recliner, a call for a wee-wee was received from the bladder. What a sad picklement I got into.

Getting to Little Inchy in time, was hard work, a button torn off of the jammies, and the PPs were ripped… and what for? The equivalent of a couple of tablespoonsful of the deepest orange wee-wee I’ve ever seen before! Silver-Lining-Search-Result: At least there was no pain with this release or partial release, I should say. Humph!

I took the bucket for sanitising, had a good wash, but didn’t change the torn PPs, cause I’m going to have to change them when I get the ablutions done later. Off to the kitchenette, with a stirring, a scintilla of near excitement, at the thought of using the new tin BP sphygmomanometer instrument for measuring my arterial blood pressure, at least with this being the same operational procedure as the old one, I was pretty confident in using it.

But, I got sidetracked after putting on the kettle and having a look at the morning view. Out of the light & view-blocking, impossible to reach for cleaning, new window, and got the urge to try once again (current record 210 photos, Two decent ones taken), to attempt to get some good pictures!

Well, not as bad as usual, indeed not good though! I nosied down to Chestnut Walk and took a snap in Aperture Priority setting. When I viewed the screen, it did look like a space ship of some sort was landing near the flats (Top left). I was tickled pink with it, and later made a more significant copy, and used it for the second picture down the blog today. I think the dark unidentifiable trees had covered part of some houses, leaving the impression of an alien craft. Or is it just me?

Finally, I got around to doing the BP Checks, then took the medications with a guzzle or two of the bottled spring water. The SYS is even higher today. But, it was lower than the first one I took earlier – it was 171 on that one; but by the time I’d got the camera ready, the machine turned itself off. Which is a good function, saves on battery life. I must remember to get the Nikon or Canon ready beforehand in future.

I then got the new head-thermometer out. I’m not so certain about using this at all. The print on the instructions is ridiculously small. I’ve no idea what needs doing with the SET plus/Minus buttons, but being as it seems to be working, I was a smidge nervous of cocking things up by toying with the settings. Lack of confidence? Me? Yes!

It came out at 34.4°c, and that must be okay, cause the screen was coloured green? I felt a soupçon on satisfaction in getting it right, the first time. But I’d like to have known how I did it. Hehehe!

Made a delightful brew of Glengettie tea, and I gulped down a few mouthfuls of the inadequate, wishy-washy, ineffective Peptac crap antacid medicine that the Doctor thinks, and told me years ago, ‘It’ll work a treat for your duodenal ulcer!’ I’m still waiting for it to do anything, something, to ease the pain! Tsk!

As I was settling at the computer, I realised there was no tingling coming from the ankle ulcer, so I investigated, with the Nikon!

Frottleclamorious! It is looking like it’s definitely on the wain. Never looked so uninflamed ever! But, will it come back again? Offering me more pain! Driving me insane? Will I be back on the vervain? She may never come back to drive me insane! Or are my hopes all in vain? I got carried away there with the rhyming, sorry.

I remembered the Morrison order is coming twixt 06:00>07:00hrs, so pressed on getting the updating of the Sunday blog done, but no time to double-check it, post it or anything. The ablutions, a stand-up job with it being so early, had to be done, so I turned everything off to give the computer a little time to cool down, and off to the wet room, I trudged.

A second wee-wee was needed as I got in the room, another waste-of-time-trickle-only affair, but this time a smidgeon of pain with it, not that it lasted long.

Things went unbelievably smoothly, Toothache Thomas okay, no cuts shaving, oh yes there was, I nicked my right ear-hole. All was going so well; until the ablutions and medicationalisationing were complete, and it came to replacing the PPs and getting dressed… Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, launched without any hints or warnings, into one of his involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances, and I crumbled to the floor, via the sock-glide on the chair! I believe I may have muttered something along the lines of; ‘Well fancy that!’ And struggling to get back up, as I hit my right elbow on the edge of the floor cabinet, ‘Blow me down!’

I returned to post off the Sunday post. Spent hours sorting out the graphics, literally, I got in a right mess as the internet kept going slower and slower.

The Morrison delivery arrived, and I slipped the chap a can of G&T for his bother and in thanks.

I’d got the last of the Christmas giveaway plonk in, and some batteries. The regular stuff, such as washing up liquid, bleach, bleach, Surf, instant potatoes, toilet cleaner, Irish potato farls, tomatoes, a bag of potatoes, bread thins, lemon mousse, mini raspberry and vanilla rolls, haemorrhoid cream, and even a packet of wooden skewers. Iceland no longer stock them, Tsk!

Got the goods stored away, and decided that today’s meal would be Chilli-Con-Carni. (hope this doesn’t make the poo too soft and runny!)

I got the fodder into the saucepan, with a tin of Heinz sweet curried baked beans, and a selection of Jenny-supplied yellow and red tomatoes chopped into the mix. And some Squid vinegar, and left to marinate before heating up later on.

Four potatoes will be added later from the crock-pot, being done a low-setting.

I’ll do some Irish potato farls in the oven later on, and have them as a substitute for having bread. Stomach too large and flabby!

It was an odd feeling, not having to wee-wee so often all day.

I did some graphicalising on CorelDraw, which took an aeon to get sorted and finished.

Then closed down Computer Katie, and got on with making up the recycling and rubbish bags. And stacked them on the three-wheeler-walker. Put the glass recycling bag on the trolley handles. I put the small waste bags in the delivery box, with the recycling one on top. Quite an industrial mode was adopted? Haha!

I put the little Canon camera, and keys & door fob to get back in the flats, in my pocket. Got my mask on, too. (See? I don’t always forget to take them!)

To the waste-room and downed the small bags in the chute, without any injuries or hassle at all! Smug-Mode-Temporarily-Assumed!

Caught the lift down to the ground floor, and out into the sunshine on Chestnut Walk. Put the glass in the bin, left the bag of recycling materials by the big bin, it was full. Sherlock Holmesian Mode Engaged; The workmen had I imagine, been using it, judging by the concrete and sandbags in there. At least they looked like them to me.

A steady wobble along the road to Winwood Court and the ILC’s (Independent Living Coordinators) Interrogation Office. Had a natter and a laugh with Riechsführeress and Catwalk Model Warden Deana.

As I departed and was hobbling back to Woodthorpe Court, I espied Penny and Christine ahead on me, just off of the bus. They were having a chinwag on the pavement. Aha, a chance for another beloved nattering session, perhaps!

I waved and moved towards them, but they scarpered rather swiftly away from me. No way could I catch them up, although I tried, but, I soon started struggling for breath, and gave-up. Then, of course, I realised, I’d got the black mask on, that may have put them off. Hahaha!

All clear of life and residents when I got in the lobby, I took this photo as I got into the lift. The box on top of the trolley is the PP carton I use to transport things down to the chute or bins. Also, now that Sainsbury’s have stopped using carrier bags for their deliveries, I use it to put the groceries in.

I got in the flat, taking a wee-wee, and Josie rangeth the doorbell’s Dusty Springfield tune, ♫ I only want to be with you! ♫ . She was returning the Sunday lunch things for me. Josie gave me another packet of cheese-curls. Thanked her, and returned to finish off my wee-wee. Not that it was worth doing, a sprinkle, cough, and it was all finished. And deep orange again, Tsk!

As I started to prepare the meal, I had some NHS stuff posted through the door. Advice on how to poo! On hoe to wee! And directions for what not to eat and drink Which included the demand for me not to drink ordinary tea, only decaffeinated! Well, now I need a stool, to use, to pass my stools! Har-har-har!

By the time I’d read half of it, my head was spinning!

I took the evening medications, remembering the Dioctyl®, and the last of the Macrobid antibiotic capsules, (Also known as, brand names Nitrofurantoin, Aratoin, Macrodantin and Furadantin – nowt like getting confused is there). After ten days of taking this, my urine is still clour matched as No.6 – Very Dehydrated? That did a lot of good!

Mind you, Dioctyl® (Docusate Sodium) poo-softener isn’t exactly doing much good either! Admitted, it’s a smidge easier than it was to pass, though. But still so painful and as much bleeding as before going on them. I’m not the luckiest of people! Haha!

Finally, I got the fodder served up. Tim Price thinks this Chilli-Con-Carne will do me better, passing-wise. Hahaha! Some part-baked rolls found and still in date, were added. And it was so tasty. The Flavour-Rating given was 805/10! I nearly ate all of the stuff on the stray! Yummy in the extreme!

I took the tray with the well-scrapped dish and got them soaking in the sink.

I had a wash, a few gulps of the defeasible, ineffective, impotent, anandrious Peptac antacid medicine, as Duodenal Donald was kicking off again, and treated Harold’s Haemorrhoids to a treat of Germoloids, before settling down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, haemorrhoid-attacking, decaying, tatterdemalion, heavy yet tottery, rickety recliner, in search of some sleep. 

No chance of my nodding off, Duodenal Donald made sure of that! So, I got a New Tricks DVD to watch. And was soon off in the land of nod… Bliss!

The door chimes burst forth! Just what I wanted this was! I fumbled my way free of the recliner. Getting some clothes and slippers on…

I stubbed my right foot big toe! Grobbleknackerbangles! Then walked into the doorframe going out of the room to the hallway. (I was getting angrier and more uptight as the seconds passed!)

No one was there! Spurgledamnations!

  • Either they had lost patience waiting for me to get to the door?
  • Or it was one of the famous Woodthorpe Court aliens: ghosts, wraiths, spirits, spectres, apparitions, phantasms, eidola, or poltergeist?
  • Or, in my slumber, I’d imagined, or dreamed of the door-buzzers going off?

Even less chance than ever of getting back to sleep now, Donald was still stinging and stabbing at me. Hogglebogwash!

I went to get a drink of warm milk, thinking it might help me find Sweet Morpheus. But no! I hadn’t got any. I’d plenty of individual serving sachets of milk, mind. So, I opted to make a mug of Gelngettie Gold tea instead, with an extra sachet of milk in it.

I had a look at the big toe to see if it had bruised or gone black, but it was fine, stinging only the slightest bit.

The best thing I spotted was that the leg-ulcer was fading fast! Yahoo!

Inchcock – Saturday 17th October 2020: Unsettling, fraught, bewildering day, mind you, they all seem like this nowadays!

TFZer, Wowser!

Saturday 17th October 2020

Hungarian: 2020 Október 17, Szombat

01:35hrs: I was oh, so reluctant and against rising out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, unstable, pukingly-beige-coloured, most-uncomfortable, no-longer working, heavy yet tottery, rickety, rusty, rachitic, recliner. A stubborn dysania had me in its grip! A depressionalisticness hovered over me, and I couldn’t work out why? My EQ was telling me ‘You’ll just have to cope with it this morning, mate!’ My Thought-Storms were like bricolage, unstable, uncontrollable, not practical, bizarre!

  • As I was on the verge of accepting this insanity, the water-works began a little PMD (Pre-Micturition-Dribbling), which the PP’s contained efficiently.
  • I was forced to alter my priorities, and hasten out of the chair, catch my balance, failed at this, and plopped back down in the recliner. Doing Harold’s Haemorrhoids no good at all!
  • This caused a little extra escapage from Little Inchy!
  • I determinedly rose again, and caught my balance, this time, grabbed Metal Micky, and stepped to the EOGPB (Essential-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket). Where the wee-wee, weakly sprayed all over the place, and it was the least I’d ever passed in my life, before it closed shut sharply, no after dribble? I’ve put more milk in a mug of teas, than what came out of my bladder! Must be the MacroBid® medication?

Off to the wet room to clean and freshen up, sanitised and disinfected the bucket, changed the PPs, sparingly used the Germoloid, and off to the kitchenette. The brain remained in a fog of sorts.

Another by-pass and change of plans, I had to go back to the wet room to use the Porcelain Throne.

Aha! I think things in the Poo-Softening arena, are beginning to work at last! The Smug-Mode-Adoption was resisted – things go wrong too often for me lately!

The entire movement was quicker and smoother than in a long time. There was a bit of bleeding, but that I think, was from Harold’s Haemorrhoids, so is to be expected. The cistern had to be refilled from the sink and used twice to get the evacuated product to disappear from view.

I got the inspiration from somewhere, to make a strong-minded effort to try and get some photographs of the morning view, that would be better than my recent efforts and tries!

I used the Kodak, and toyed around with different option, hoping for at least some degree of improvement.

Another failure! Gangleboggleisations!

I was most disappointed with the pictures that I’d taken. These three on the right, believe it or not, were the best of them! And why did the last one come out in a different shape? They were so poor. I’d lost my interest altogether now! Humph!

I got the BP sphygmomanometer from the drawer, only to find that the last reading showed up when I turned it on? With nit much to fiddle with, I determined that it was either knackered, or needed new batteries, so I replaced the old ones with Duracell newbies. I tried to use it again, the same thing, just the old figures appeared, no blank start-up screen. I wanted to cry, but didn’t bother! I’ll see what Amazon have on offer later. A bit annoying, cause now I cannot keep my recording record up to date for the nurse to collect each month.

Ah-well, I’ll get the Thermometer going. But No! That was not working either! I thought it would be fun to create the little expression that I sometimes use, in fact, it was Tim Price from New Mexico who gave me the idea: The mysterious wonders of Woodthorpe Court: The Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, Hallucinations. Materialisations, Poltergeist, Lemures, Wairuas, Kehuas, Manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan mission; ‘To annoy and scare the bejesus, and scare the pants off of the old energumenist, Inchcock’. But this morning, I’m beginning to believe it could be true! 

I toyed with the ear-thermometer, but it didn’t have it. So, I got the stick-thermometer out and used that.  It worked, and I took this photograph of the result.

Then, as I was about to put it back in medical drawer number three, where it is usually stored: Peripheral Pete, launched one of his involuntary, instant, right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances, and I found myself doing some ballerina type dancing, as I fought not to go over, and lunged at the stove to steady my balance. At that second, I felt almost proud of myself for going over. The head swanked a bit sideways, and I think a smirk came across my face, as I realised this was only a short leg-dance, of a few seconds duration, and I had prevailed!

As soon as I’d caught my balance and turned back towards the stack of drawers… I felt it as I trod on the stick thermometer! Still not fully back to normal, I got the short picker-upperer to retrieve the obviously now bent, thermometer. I tried to straighten it up to try it out, to see if it was still working. Dead, deceased – not a cat-in-hells chance! Now I was on a downer of great proportions!

To add to this sudden nasty depression, I’ve got to get a new sphygmomanometer and thermometer! Frangleklops, Thunderglobberisations and Knackercraps! I was feeling morose, splenetic and crotchety! Worse than this, my EQ informed me that I had more let-down coming! I found I was monologuing with myself, Duodenal Donald started having a go at me, and hearing aid fell out?

But cunningly, it did not break, and it’s part of the mysterious wonders of Woodthorpe Court: The ghosts, hobgoblins, boll-weevils, aliens, gremlins, grotesqueries, urchins, karakia-cursing entities, hallucinations. Materialisations, poltergeist, lemures, wairuas, kehuas, manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan mission; ‘To destroy the sanity, and scare the hell out of Inchcock, thus assuring him a life of misery, worry and fear!’

Of course, it could be the Lord, making my life this unbearable unlucky hell, so that when the time comes for me to kick-the-bucket, I won’t mind so much? The day must be close then. That’s kind of him.

I took the much-belated medications and got on the computer to see what Amazon has on offer thermometers and hemadynamometers-wise at a bearable price.  First thing I found was an email, telling that the order, which was to have been arriving Wednesday, then Thursday, then Friday, then Saturday, is going to be late. Hahahaha!

I found some fancy medical gear and ordered it.

Of course, the ‘Arriving Tomorrow’ can be taken with a-pinch-of-salt.

I had a ‘Your Area’ email, with the latest Coronavirus locally.

I got the Friday post finished off and posted to WordPress. Pinterested some snaps. Replied to some comments. Went on the WordPress Reader section. And as I went on CorelDraw, three things dawned on me: 1) I had not been for a wee-wee for hours! 2) Herbert was not making much noise, and 3) I’d had much hassle, I’d not got the ablutions done yet! And it was gone midday!

I hobbled off to make a brew of Thompsons Punjana. I tried the Kodak for the last time, to take a photo of the clouds on view. It came to pout all wrong again, compared to how it looked to the eyes, but then again, it could be the eyes, not the lens at fault?

I tried the BP sphygmomanometer again, not that I expected anything to work – and sod-me, it did! And I’ve just ordered a new one! But, knowing my luck, I shall still get the Amazon one, you never know what the aliens and ghosts are up to and planning in these flats!

Made the brew, and did a template for tomorrow in advance. And about twelve emails all came in at once! One was about the late, late order from Amazon. So, five days late, a proper date received… We’ll see!

I’ll check it out now. Whoops, this is not the original order I thought, but the thermometer order. Int life, confusing?

Shattered mentally now, I’ll get the nosh sorted. I think I’d spent the last of my mental energy preparing this dish. My taste-buds seem to have dwindled, but it still got a Taste-Rating of 7/10.

I got the things from the meal to soak in the kitchen bowl. And went in search of sleep.

Two hours later; mostly of suffering irreverent Thought-Storms, I still awaited Sweet Morpheous.

What a day!

Inchcock Today – Friday 16th October 2020: The body and mind seemed to crepitate. Thunderisations!

SPECIAL GUEST – TFZers ♥

Friday 16th October 2020

Croatian: Petak, 16 Listopada 2020

04:30hrs: Getting my head down so late last night, caused a bit of good fortune – I slept, uninterrupted, dream-free (I think), for over five hours! Yee-Ha!

Of course, this meant instant panic and worry about my getting everything done today, with such a late start! A bi gezunt! No time to lay there, or uhtceare. Anyway, the need for a wee-wee encouraged me to free my body-mass from the c1968 recliner, and get my balance, and scuddle to the EOGPB (Essential-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket). I honestly think I only moved a few fluid ounces, and half of them sprayed all over me! Grumbleskins!

I got the bucket, and myself cleaned up and visited the kitchenette, to get a mug of Thompsons Punjana, take the medications and do the Health Checks, oh, and take some photos from the window, not necessarily in that order.

I collected the MacroBid and Dioctyl from the computer desk. I tried the new ear-thermometer this morning, pleased to see that it worked the first time and came up with a figure. 34.6°Cc. Which marries with the level shown on the stick thermometer. I’ll see on Google and convert it to Fahrenheit. It gave me 94.28°F, which is a fair-figure, methinks?

The BP sphygmomanometer results were also pleasing, SYS and DIA both down, as well as the Pulse, I’ll do a check on Google again… “normal rate 60 and 100 beats per minute (bpm), so, another good one. I wonder if this will last? Hahaha! I had a swig of the pathetically weak Pentac medicine, followed my gulps of the splendid tea, and Took the photographs, both in the Aperture Priority mode, with the Nikon camera.

These could be used if anyone was making a film-noir movie or commercial? Just a thought, here’s another, do you think that the Tate Gallery might be interested in buying them?

If they can “spent taxpayers’ money” for a load of bricks, in fact ‘they’ paid so-called artist Carl Andre, £2,297 for the pile of bricks, in 1976. Bear in mind that £2,300 in 1976 is worth £16,664.29 today. I’m imperseverant when it comes to an understanding such stupidity from the Tate, in accepting crap from someone so desperate for success, a Fame-Whore like Carl? They could have had both of my photos for a tenner!

But, of course, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Oy-oy, oy!

A most-urgent calling to the Porcelain Throne arrived!  I scuddled off to the wet room, arriving with seconds to spare. But the usual start then stopping occurred, and I reached for the crossword book.

But no time for puzzling, for the motion restarted much quick than of late, although still painful, it as over in seconds, leaving me with a mess to clean up. I had to use two flushes, refilling the tank by water, jugged from the sink, in between, then get myself sorted, cleaned and medicated. Poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids had gone through a rough time. Not much bleeding, though.

I reckon that the Dioctyl capsules are getting a grip on the situation at last. Says he, in hopes! However, the MacroBid UTI infection antibiotics, are taking their time in changing the colour of the urine, I checked with the card, and the colour is now between 6 + 7 on the scale, which is classed as Very and Severely dehydrated. No improvement at all, in fact, it is darker orange than before I went on the medication last Thursday? I increased my intake of spring water, as they recommended.

As I got on the computer, dear old Herbert started working on his models. Clunk, tap-tapping. But not for long.

I made a start on creating a template, then started to update the Thursday blog. I was in a zwodder, mentally, and jumping all over doing things out of order, and getting myself all irritated in doing so, but somehow kept on meandering and forgetting where I was and what I was doing and supposed to be doing. Jenny would know a name for this; she’s a clever gal. Next time we chat, I’ll ask her, then I can use the word to show off. Hehehe! Cheerio, sanity! Then…

Things seem to get worse when I went to get the ablutions done;

  • I suffered more dropsies than ever before!
  • Had a cracking cross between the Twist and a Waltz when Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, launched one of his involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances, and I ended up going over onto the floor!
  • Banged my right elbow on the corner of the floor cabinet, and knocked a few things off of it.
  • I couldn’t find the shaving foam, and I’m sure I had some, and another full one ready? No shave today, then!
  • I considered putting some socks on, as it was getting reet cold. But stood there looking at the scary, scowling Sock-Glide, and a moment of resistentialism came over me?
  • It seemed that Pareidolia had gripped me, as I started talking to the damned thing! But I chickened out of using it, not that I was scared or anything like that, of course. Cough, cough!
  • Getting some new PPs on, and they ripped as I pulled them up? Oh, heck!

I remembered a little late that it was time for the next Dioctyl capsule to be taken. Forced plenty of water down with it.

I got back on Computer Cameron, and carried on with the blog updating, but not for long! Good old Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet went off again. It’d been dead slow all day!

I think Herbert must have gone out. It’s tranquil around the place. Even the ‘Hum ‘ is not as bad as usual, mind you, I can hear the drone from the plant room on the roof.

It’s already gone my head-down time already. Still, I will give in to my tiredness and get something to eat. Then I’ll collapse in the recliner. The internet is so bad and slow now it’s back on, but I’ll have a look at the Coronavirus figures first, internet permitting. Well, it wasn’t!

I got the nosh made. Fell asleep eating it. I cleaned up the mess from the tray falling off of my knees. Had a wee-wee, for what it was worth, it was more like a quick spray of air freshener without the nice scent.

Settled in the recliner, and waited for sleep to come… and waited… and waited…

Inchcockski – Saturday 10th October 2020: I relinquished my grip on sanity. Lost the plot! Normal day, then!

Aha, what’s this TFZer up to, then? Hehe!

Saturday, 10th October 2020

Swedish: Lördag 10 Oktober 2020

01:15hrs: I stirred, thinking of what needed to be tackled today. The need for a visit to the Porcelain Throne made my mind up for me. And almost nimbly, (well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration) I clambered out of the ageing ancient recliner, (we are well-matched) up onto my unbalanced legs, and had to sit in the swivel chair for a few seconds when Dizzy Dennis attacked. Luckily the need for the Throne was not too urgent. Phew!

Wowzah, it’s blooming cold this morning! Brrr! But not once I was inside the wetroom – I’d left the convector heater on in there again! This is going to cheer up the bank manager! 

Now here this! Or, ‘Now hear this’, if you want it spelt right. Tsk! This session on the Throne was the easiest for many weeks! Yes, the Docusate sodium capsules, are working a treat! I shall not miss taking them, oh, no! I’d estimate that the pain was 40% less, far easier, and I had a modicum of control over the movement! Mega-Smug-Mode-Adopted!

Got a wash, fresh PPs on, and a dab of Germolid cream was applied. Off to the kitchenette, I wobbled. I took a photo of the morning view with the Canon camera, but I still don’t seem to able to get any decent shots lately, with any of the cameras? Fair enough, I know there are times when I’m shaking badly with the right hand and arm, maybe it is such small movements this morning, and I don’t realise it? But it’s so annoying! Ah, well, plenty of folks worse off than me. 

Made a brew of Glengettie Gold, and got the tablets ready for imbibing, then did the job of sphygmomanometering to get the BP readings. The Sys, and Dia though a bit high, were lower than yesterdays levels. Oh, and the pulse had come down, well.

The body temperature was well done, no idea why. Down to 32.7, or 32.1°c.

I’d got out a Macrogol sachet to make up, but when I read that one of the ingredients in the stool-softener capsules, is actually Macrogol? Now I’m a little confused. Do I take the Macrogol or not? I left it, to be on the safe side, I don’t want Trotsky Terence to come back.

I gt on the computer, well-determined, obsessed with getting some graphics and a template or two done today. But, as usual, I got sidetracked. I did the comment replying first, then along came Porcelain Throne demand, mark2!

Plenty of sneezing this morning.

To the Throne, but things didn’t start on there own this time. I got out the crossword book, tried a little pressure, and wallah! Things moved, and with such speed, I didn’t even get to read one clue in the crossword book, and it was all-over! Great! Marvellous! Wonderful!

I even found myself cleaning the porcelain when there was no need to! Old habits of the last three weeks or so of Constipation Conrad’s causing so much bleeding every visit to the Porcelain Throne was possibly the reason. Hahaha!

I made a fresh mug of my beloved Thompsons Punjana tea, and got back on the computer, updating the Saturday post, and scribbling note of what happened today as I went along. Eventually, many hours later, I got it finished. All between many wee-wees!

Then I made up two templates, which took a long time, thanks to Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters kept going offline, and so many corrections to be made. Cost me nigh-on three hours. Blurblecrups!

I went on the WordPress Reader section, then Facebook updating.

Then, the crap sad, overcharging sickening Liberty-Global, Virgin Media Internet went down!

I went to plan the meal for later. It will, I thought, be a Cannelloni Ragú. With tons of cheese on top, and some of Jenny’s yellow tomatoes as well. Ah, I’m out of bread again, with Iceland not sending any, so I had a dig in the freezer to get the packet of bread thins out to defrost. I could not believe it! What a Schmuck!

  • After taking everything to search for bread in the freezer, none there!
  • And then remembered I have to go to the chemist to pick up the antibiotic prescription.
  • And, I’ve not started on this blog yet.
  • It doesn’t matter about having any bread I can get some when the mobile shop arrives.
  • No, I can’t it’s Sunday today!
  • I must call Jane to see how they both are.
  • Did I take any Warfarin last night?
  • Will I get any graphics done before I fall asleep?

Yes, it was a Thought-Storm! Then the brain went on strike. It’s the only way to stop them sometimes, but reconnecting with reality and continuity afterwards, is no mean feat!

And it’s still damned cold! I’ll put the new warmer slippers on, that’s a good idea. Did I say a good idea?

Well, that wasn’t such a good idea, after all. I lost my balance getting the right slipper on the foot, then Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley had a go at me, and my grasp on the swivel chairs arm and I gave my right ankle a decent bang against the Ottoman on my way down to the carpet! Right near the ankle ulcer.

Of course, it didn’t bother me in the slightest. I merely laughed off the pain, jumped back up off of the floor, and went to check if the internet had come back on. Oy, Oy, Oy!

Alright then, I landed on my knees, which set off Arthur Itis, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, launched one of his involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances, that’s when I hit the ankle! I struggled to get back up, I considered calling Jenny and Frank, or pressing the wrist alarm, but was determined to get back up on my own. With the help of clinging on the recliner, the cushion came away, and I ended up on my bum again on the floor against the chair. With Harold’s Haemorrhoids in a right state, now. A second attempt, using the old fat chair, was successful, albeit a painful exercise. Now I’d had enough.

I got down in the computer chair and took the photo above of the leg, and the rain came heavier than ever. So I snapped that through the balcony windows as well.

I had to go to the wet room to clean up the blood; poor Harold had lost, washed up again, and applied generous proportions of the Germoloid ointment.

I was no longer interested if the internet was working or not, I turned off the machine and went to get something to eat, with an effort to get some sleep earmarked for afterwards, I can do the finishing of, hopeful in the morning or late tonight perhaps. I’ll how the sleep goes, but first, the meal must get prepared.

I rang Jane as I was getting the meal sorted and into the oven. I put a thick layer of strong cheese on top of the Cannelloni Ragú, along with many slices of Jenny-supplied home-grown yellow tomatoes. Got it in the oven.

Bad connection, lost her twice and had to ring back. Poor Jane has still lost the sight in her left eye. This week, they both have hospital visits. Pete for his cancer treatments, Jane for here vision and Cluster Headaches. We are a right-set between us. But they seem to be coping well with their problems, I do so hope things can get easier for them. We managed a bit of memory delving and a smile twixt ourselves.

I had to depart the long and enjoyable call, to get the fodder out of the oven.

It looked okay to me. I confirmed this when I ate it with a baked bean pastie. A worthy taste rating of 7.8/10 given.

I did no washing up, I was feeling low after the internet went down, but would have been worse if not for talking with Jane and Pete.

I got a Jonathan Creek DVD on, headphones on, and kept nodding, waking and rewinding for ages, then decided to give up. As I took off the headset, the door chimes rang out.

Being half asleep and in a confused state, my mind told me it was Josie returning the meal plate and things. (Not realising unitl I saw who it was, that it was Saturday and I’d not made her meal yet, Tsk!)

It was the Sainsbury order that I’d forgotten all about. What a dimwit!

The delivery lady was very patient with me. She put the goods in the box for me, bless her.

I got the stuff into the kitchen, and I was pleased to see that the chilli-con-carni and costly rediculusy overpriced, but tasty pickled eggs had arrived with the other things. No potato farls or bread, though. I left every thing laying about anywhere and got back in the c1968 recliner.

Zzzz!

.

.

 

Inchcockski – Sunday 4th October 2020: Worried

TFZer beauty, yeeha!

Sunday 4th October 2020

Welsh: Dydd Sul 4 Hydref 2020

0300hrs: By Jiminee, six-hours of Sweet Morpheousness! Good going that! If it wasn’t for the need of the Porcelain Throne, I might have had longer – cause the body and brain did not overly want or need to get up at all! Yes, dysania and clinomania (An excessive desire to remain in bed; morbid sleepiness) woke with me this morning!

But, as is usual, the urgency of a summoning calls to the Throne won the day. I rose hastily but carefully, from the c1968 recliner, caught my balance and with Duodenal Donald giving me some stabbing pains, I grabbed Metal Mickey (the four-pronged walking stick) and poddled stumblingly to the wet-room and the Throne.

I got down on the pew, and the actions started immediately, and stopped, and stuck seconds later! The handily placed crossword book and pen were reached for, (You can always tell a suffer from Constipation Konrad, by how close he or she keeps the crossword book, to the loo, Haha!). I believed there might be a possibility of my busting open in the rear quarters, and the painful pressure grew ever tighter, but no action yet. A few minutes later, when the innards controlled movement restarted, things moved that quickly, I hardly had time fo give an Argh! Or swear, before it was finished, with watery-thud.

It took a few seconds for me to recover my composure. Gawd, that was agony-at-speed! I investigated the evacuated product, as instructed by the hospital, and had to break things up a bit, to get it to down the hole. It took several hand-fillings of the tank and many flushes before it disappeared. Worra life!

Some bleeding, but I’m certain it was from the bashed up and squashed by the torpedo on its way out, Harold Haemorrhoids. I got a good clean up and medicated with the Germoloid ointment, I didn’t spare with it either. Got the things back on the toilet top, got the new PP’s on, and needed a wee-wee.

And what a wee-ee it was, another of the quixotic variety, of the OSUAD (Orange-Sprinkly-Unpainful-After-Dribble) type. And the AMD (After-Micturitional-Dribble) went on, and on, and… Washed the hands again, and off to the kitchenette.

I put the kettle on and got on with the Health Checks. The SYS was still a bit high, but it’s up and down all the time lately. I’d like to know how, every single time that any nurse or doctor takes my BP, it is always, it never changes, comes out as being within range! Humph!

The temperature on the stick thermometer had gone up a tad, which is a good thing, cause it had been too low for too long.

I’ve noticed that this morning, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters have been trying, sort of going online and off, quickly again. That’s my way of saying that Nicodemus is to blame for my dropping the stick thermometer on the floor. I thought, well that’s done it no good! Surprisingly after retrieving it with the use of the long picker-upperer, I tried it, and it was still working! See, a Silver Lining can usually be found, if one is prepared to lie and cheat a bit. Hahaha!

I took the medications, including the Macgrogol, and made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea. I use a long skewer stick, to stir the tea with, and extract the teabag. I grabbed the bamboo stick, at the wrong, pointed end. The blood looked a decent rich red, not as deep at the haemorrhoids, mind. Hehehe!

I got the computer going, and thus began a journey encapsulating mistakes, errors, getting so confused and doolallying. The first thing was to create two templates—one for today and the other for Monday.

I uploaded yesterdays photos not done yet and spent hours cocking things up, and generally missing things off, and drifting into doing something else altogether, and getting back into some mock-form of semi-organisation… then drifted off of the plan again. Back to the computer.

I got the Saturday blog finalised, and sent off the email link.

On one of my ‘I don’t know how got onto searching the web, or what I am searching it for’ moments, SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, joined Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, and Duodenal Donald, in making my life rather unpleasant, and uncomfortable. I decided I’d have a break, and look in the fridge and freezer to plan my lunch later, Josies was already sorted and written down. And I found that my plan to not bother with any chips, fries or potatoes, and use the Farls and potato cakes, had to be abandoned. Thanks to Morrison delivering short-dated products, like Farls and Potato cakes. Grrr! Grobbleskankles! 

I went through to make a brew, Glengettie Gold, this time, and take a sachet of Macrogol, I even took a swig of the Peptac. Not that I imagine anything would ease of Constipation Konrad or Duodenal Duncan until they departed of their own accord. The murky morning, still managed to look beautiful though.

The first shot, I took while hanging out of the kitchen window, while balancing on the step ladder! Such cunningly designed windows, obviously by window manufacturers and builders who suffer from gerascophobia, gerontophobia, or maybe gerascophobia? Anyway, I wouldn’t please them my falling out of the window! La-la-la- La-lala! Gits!

The second one, I took from the balcony, which also, plainly designed and fitted by window manufacturers and builders who suffer from gerascophobia, gerontophobia, or maybe gerascophobia? The finger trapping and cutting spring clip opener, where you have to push and pull at the same time to open or close the windows.

They have even been times when the newly fitted window fell off the fitments while a tenant in Winchester Court was opening her window – but that’s been kept quiet. So I won’t mention it… Whoops!

Back I trudged, to the computer work. Got the link emailed, went on the WordPress Reader, and did some Facebooking catch-up.

I checked on Amazon about the progress of the items ordered. A pair of slippers, some kitchen tools to make it easier to open bottles, ring-pull cans and jars (I’m not too sure they will work, but one has to try), and some yogourt covered cashew nuts. The delivery of the nuts and tools showed as being at the flats.

So, I took a look outside and saw a van arriving, it must be the delivery! I positioned myself close to the intercom, ready to answer and admit the driver. Sure enough, he came a couple of minutes later, I buzzed him in, thanked him, slipped him a can of G&T as a thank you, and opened the box to investigate.

I soon got into it and took a decker at the contents. Would they be acceptable, good and reliable, what I anticipated? No! The tools were worse than the ones I already have, no instructions, of course. Ah, well, they were cheap enough! The yoghourt covered cashew nuts, were 75% yoghourt, finding any bits of cashew, was a bonus. Hey-Ho!

I went on the Amazon tracker to check out the ETA of the slippers that I’d ordered might be arriving.

Judging by the time it took to get from when was dispatched, I’d guess about 18:00hrs they could get here. These are the same ones that I bought n August, well not the same ones, but the same type. They are so comfortable and cosy.

Back on the computer, Pinterested some snaps and started to update the Facebooking, and the landline burst into ringing and flashing. It was Sister Jane, she is not very well at the moment. She has, she thinks got, or suffering from cluster-headaches. Poor things, it was a case of one of use mentioning something and comparing it with the ills of the other of us. Hahaha! I’ll have a look-up on the web later for these headaches. Might ring her back in the morning if I fined owt that might help her cope better with them. I’ll send Jane all the bestest wishes possible! She’s not a woman who moans, bless her cotton socks! ♥♥♥ And Pete can do with a boost, the handsome beast him, with all his radiation treatments.

I had to hurry a tad, to get Josie’s dinner done in time, but yet again, I was on the button, at midday, at her door, ringing her bells!

I even wore the Chefs Hat that Jae bought me for Christmas last year! I took a selfie of the titfer, but somehow it came out in monochrome? Another camera cock-up from Inchcock!

Anyway, for the first time ever, I saw Josie laughing out loud when she opened the door and saw me! She had a feel of it (No, no, the Chefs Hat I mean!), and was amazed it was real, she thought it was a paper one. Hahaha!

I explained about the changes to her dinner plate to her. Smoked haddock, mackerel in sauce, and her cheesy mash being with different cheese cause I’d had any come from Morrisons this week. She retired to have her nibble, and I returned to have a wee-wee.

I washed, put the kettle on, and as the sunshine was coming through, I went on the balcony again, to take some photos of the grand, lucky-to-have views.

The top one was straight ahead, the bottom shot, I took from inside the pod. We’re luck really living here… I thought this as Herbert came to life above. Humph!

I’ll try to get another template made up now, with some busy days coming up next week, it can only help to get ahead if I can. Fingers crossed.

The Amazon slippers arrived, and I went down to meet the driver. Met Peggy, doing her laundry. Took the bag off of the deliveryman, and back up to the flat.

I went on Google and found an NHS site, covering cluster-headaches. A  place for advice, with Treatments and explanations, anyone who suffers with them would find it of some benefit, I hope. This is the link address: https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/cluster-headaches/ I sent the link to Jane and Pete and tried to phone them both to tell them, but got no answer.

I was worried about them, even more now. As I got the meal prepared, I tried several times to get through without any luck. In the kitchen, I got an answer, from Pete’s number; The line was terrible, and I could not understand most of what Pete said, he was only on for a minute or so. But the tone of his voice came through, something serious meant he could not talk to me at that moment. I’m scared stiff for them now. No concentration, Duodenal Donald kicked off again.

Got the nosh served up, I didn’t enjoy the meal, although I should have, it was one of my better efforts, but fretting over whatever Jane and Pete, I could not appreciate the food.

Got my bones in the recliner, and lay worrying, with Donald having a ball with the stomach. Until I can find out what’s happening, it will get no better. Sleep was impossible, tried until about 01:30hrs, and got up to do some cleaning-up, to try to calm down mentally.

Inchcocksi – Saturday 3rd October 2020: Porcelain Throne agony! Willy nilly wee-weeing. Computer problems. Argh!

TFZer Entertainment night? Hehe!

Just cause I love ’em!

Saturday 3rd October 2020

Azerbaijani: 3 Oktyabr 2020 şənbə

00:00hrs: My expergefactor, was Duodenal Donald, oh boy, was he giving me some stick! (I realised it must be due to my hassle with the computer yesterday, it really got to me, and must have encouraged Donald to kick-off); so some of the useless, inexpedient, weak, and wishy-washy, but better than nothing. Peptac antacid guzzling, is my first job – after the regulation wee-wee, of course.

When I got to the wet-room, I felt the need to utilise the Porcelain Throne. However, things in the innards department were rock solid and after an age sitting there, produced nothing but the odd spurt of wind. And after a lot of time spent cross-wording, I gave up!

At least this wee-wee was of the PBOAN (Painless-But-Orange-Almost-Normal) variety. I gave-up on the rear evacuation, washed the hands, sanitised the touch areas, and hobbled to the kitchenette, in search of the wretchedly-weak, ineffectual Peptac antacid.

Diverted for another wee-wee, and brought the EOGPB (Essential-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket) back into use. I didn’t need the EQ to tell me it will be required a lot today.

I downed a few swigs of the otiose, worthless, medicine, made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, and took the morning medications. Then, with fingers crossed and a prayer, I turned on the computer!

: The computer and CorelDraw seem to be working correctly again. SO I concentrated on making up an in-brief Friday blog to replace the one that got gobbled up in the ether yesterday. Cry? Me? Of course, I did! I pressed on full of concentration and determination (but not a lot of confidence) and got it finished and posted off. Needing four wee-wees while doing it! Oh, dearie me!

Then I Pinterested a few snaps. Sent the link off, and replied to the flourish of comments, both of them. Hehehe! I’d just started creating a template for today’s diary, and the need for the Porcelain Throne arose again. Hoping for more luck this time, of I trotted to the wet-room. (The carpet is getting a little threadbare twixt the computer and toilet now, feet and four-pronged walking stick impressions all over it!) Tsk!


You may wish to avoid this description, it was so bad, I went through so much, I thought I ought to include it. Please go under the line below to continue. Sorry.

Utter agony! The movement began of its own accord. Everything stretched to what must have been the limit, and it would go no further! I even tried to push things along, which obviously brought more pain, and I could feel the blood flowing without having to check.

I got the crossword book, and spent half an hour or so on it, without any movement from the evacuation. Embarrassingly, I was so desperate, I painfully upped the PPs, and went to the kitchen and took two sachets of Macrogol in warm water, and returned to the Thone. Continued with the crossword, it took my mind off of the uncomfortableness a little, especially as I was doing so well with the puzzle.

The action started again, no input from me, and it was so solid and felt massive, then suddenly moved really fast. I didn’t think it could hurt me anymore than it was doing, but this rush proved me wrong… Argh! Oh, dearie me!

Silver-Lining Search Result: At least it wasn’t messy.

Danged ginormous, stinky-poo, and of toilet-blocking-worthiness! I had to remove the radio and paper from the top of the WC, to refill the tank, several times to get the evacuated product flushed away, I even used a wooden stick to break things up, and the skewer broke, such was the solidity! I cleaned the place, got a good wash and sanitised the touch-areas, and gave it what must have been the tenth flushing, the water bubbled up to near the top of the porcelain this time? But, it was completely clear of any matter, thankfully.

Thank was a right morningmare to go through! I swore to remember to take another Macrogol later. Just in case, and shall take one when I wake in the morning too!

I gingerly turned my attentions to the medicalisationings. This was when I noticed the blood spatter on the floor. Poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids had been through the mill! I used the last of the tube of Germolid cream (not to fret, I’ve got another tube, but I ordered the wrong one, the new one, which I’ll have to use after the ablutionisationing, is an ointment, what the difference is I’m not sure, but I’ll find out later, Tsk!) A vestige of discomfort remained, but so much less now the barely endurable torpedo-from-hell has been passed. I hope things don’t get blocked up lower down the flats? A good clean up all around, and off to get a mug of tea. The fear of going through that again made me take a senna tablet as well.


I turned my attention to getting the Healthchecks done. The stick thermometer showed me that the body temperature was 34.7°c, which is not too low.

: Hit my head on the corner of the cupboard door. Blungletads!

After yesterdays drop to near normality, (135) the BP sphygmomanometer had my SYS back up high again. However, its been a lot higher over the past two weeks, so fingers crossed.

Back to the computer. I was making up a template for today’s post, and on CorelDraw, making up a graphic, and it froze and turned itself off! My heart sank! Again the damned thing! I turned it back on and had lost all the work I’d done, so had to redo it again, but at least the programme let me. Pickleglobknobs! Got the photos taken this morning in, and on WordPress.

Took a snap of the once again, blue morning.

Then got on TFZer Facebooking catch-up. Next, I went on the WordPress Reader, some smashing, making-Inchcock-jealous photos on there today. Hehehe!

Tea and biscuits were partaken of, and another Macrogol made up, then got the Ablutionalisationing tackled.

The ablutions all went so surprisingly, joy-makingly well. Yes!

For some unfathomable reason, Toothache Terence was not so bad this morning?

The shaving produced only two microscopical cuts; although the dropsies were more persistent than of late, I’d got the short picker-upperer to hand, and coped injury-less well with retrieving the razors (at least eight), shaving foam (2), and the after the shave (used to stop the bleeding). Not much left of the Brut now, I’ve dropped it so often! Hehe!

The showering, well, apart from a Dizzy Dizzy visit, that caused no Accifauxpas or injuries, went so smoothly, I was almost gobsmacked! The pins and plates were nae bother and other than still looking on the pale side, appeared practically normal! Even Arthur Itis’s knees were in the best state all week!

And the medicationalisationing of my battered and been through the mill this morning, rear-end with the new ointment style Germoloids, went without the furuncle being affected, and Harold’s Haemorrhoids calmed down within a few minutes!

I sure you’ll understand how and why I fostered a Smug-Mode, Class A, Grade One! Suddenly life and hope were returning, but knowing my luck, temporarily I’m sure. Humph!

I got dressed, and scribbled some notes top use on this blog later, and decided I could cope with another brew, and made a mug of Thompsons Punjana. As I bent to return the tea caddy back to the floor, I realised that my luck had not completely changed; for Duodenal Donald kicked off, and has not stopped since! (well, up to the time I got around to typing this update anyway) He seems to be making up for his absence over the last couple of days. Crikusdongungungs, he’s having a ball with me! This (I assume) is what has started Dizzy Dennis off! Most uncomfortable, now, Tsk! Up and down like yo-yo’s today, danged ailments!

I delayed the tea while Duncan was playing up, and had a good few swigs of the useless Peptac. Which incidentally, replaced the excellent Aludrox SA, which the Doctor told me years ago, had gone up in price five-fold overnight, and the NHS has barred the product. Cagnangles! I am on omeprazole for the ulcer, but it’s not doing anything at the moment to relieve my wayward innards! Still, yer don’t like to complain, does yer? Much!

The rain continues to fall, not too heavily at the moment. I took two photos from the kitchen window, one in Auto, the second one in Landscape mode. A little glum-looking!

Now, I just much find time to do some graphicalisationing, I’m right out of diary page, and Thought header graphics. Oh, Crappleness! Duodenal Duncan’s having a ball with me again!

Took the evening medications, and wondered if the Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, just up from the Lidl store, were going to let me down again with the delivery? My EQ said; “Just get your head down, there’s not the slightest chance of them delivering your prescriptions tonight, mate!”

Fingers crossed that CorelDraw doesn’t play up again.

Two graphics were done, and ‘Inchcock-Done-Innerer’ syndrome took over. And, the wash, bish-bash-bosh, and get made the nosh! Hehehe!

The meal was prepared, and after I burnt my finger getting the fish strips out of the oven, and applied some Germolene to the index digit, I served it up. At this stage, where I had to be alert enough not to fall asleep, just in case the EQ was wrong, and the medicines did arrive, nodding-off was not an option.

This plastic plateful of nosh certainly looked appealing enough. But the potato scones were not heated properly, everything else was okay, mind. Incidentally, I found the black pepper pot I’ve been searching for over the last few days. Tsk! That spiced up the pickled eggs! A flavour rating of 7/10 given. Shame about the potato scones, but Morrisons delivered them with only one day’s sell-by date on them. Humph! Did the pots.

I got stripped, washed and down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unstable, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, rickety, rachitic, recliner. Now to stay awake, in what turned out to be unfulfilled hopes of the prescriptions arriving. Which when I remembered this, I had to get some clothes on again, in foolish, vain, ridiculous ideas that the drugs may soon come. Hahaha!

I fought hard to stay awake, a couple of minutes or so long nods did happen, but I’m sure the door chimes would have woke me. After 19:00hrs, I realised what I already knew, that the prescriptions were not going to be delivered.

There I was, half-asleep, drowsy, pissed off, and in need of a wee-wee, and getting all het-up with life again. Stewing in sinful thoughts, and saddened by the failures, and the damned Thought-Storms arrived then, Huh!

I got the EOGPB (Emergency-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket) and used it.

:  And a new style of wee-wee launched itself at me, caught me out I can tell yer! I christened this one as an SVTP (Storming-Vicious-Torrential-Powerful) wee-wee. I can’t believe that my lasered bladder could hold so much urine, to belted out, splashed and sprayed, showered the carpet, and me. I nearly lost my balance at it bucketed into the bucket, and poured about everything around. It stopped abruptly, no after-trickling. I’m not surprised, there just couldn’t have been anything left inside to come! Thunderisations! Little Inchy must have felt like an inadequate mini-fire hose! Haha!

Cleaning up and sanitising the resulting overspill, and me, took yonks to get done. I have to admit, I was feeling sorry for myself again, bitter at the Chemist, and so in need of sleep, the thought storming stopped, and was replaced with a pathetic sort of sulky, had enough, why me? Depression.

By the time I put away the cleaning bucket, cloths, brush and disinfectants, I was out of the darkness, and back as me again. (No idea why or how?) I was laughing to myself, thinking of how others would have coped. Remembering my fellow patients in the poor devils in the Newell Acute Stroke Ward (Now renamed Unit C5 Acute Stroke Unit), and how I am so much better than many of the others in there, were. Guilt developed, at how I was handling life’s challenges.

A most peculiar mood came over me as I got down again in the c1968 recliner. I was passive, ashamed and yet with a certain contentedness. My not getting to sleep, no longer bothered me, and when the Thought-Storming started again, I wallowed in them? This must-have affected me, cause I found notes about it scribbled on the pad in the morning, in all clear readable lettering, and that’s a first time that has happened.

Mmm? Summat must be in the wind for me. EQ says so!

TTFNski.

Inchcock – Fri 2nd October 2020: (In Short) Computer problems lost me the post!

Hello, hello, hello, what’s all this then?

Friday 2nd October 2020

Mongolian: 2020 оны 10-р сарын 2-ны Баасан гараг

Created the Escape blog. Wee-wees were rampant all day. Took me over three hours.

Updated blog – Computer problems, lost everything.

Going again, no idea how I did it if I actually did it or it did!

All het up and frustrated. Checked on latest confusing Coronavirus figures.

Started to update again.

Duodenal Donald responded to the hassle, not good at all.

Ablutions – hand washing.

Mechanically retrieved Beef flavoured Chicken and calf lungs sausages! No idea why.

Belated Health checks.

Ablutions. Bad fall.

Duodenal Donald in a bad mood.

Mug Glengettie Gold. Dropped it after taking the photo.

Just not good, got down to rest.

Nodded off, medications Woke and got on blogging.

Lost everything again – Argh!!!

Despondent, got massive nosh made.

Ate the fish but not much else, worried about upsetting Duodenal Donald any more than was necessary.

Throne, bloody, solid, tough going.

Not feeling too good. Meds, wash, head-down.

Inchock’s 4th Escape from the lockdown – to town! Pictorially presented!

Inchock’s 4th Escape from the lockdown – to town!

This woz rote by Inchy’s alter ego – Hehehe!

The following, pictorials and odes, were created in support of the Depressed Nottinghamian At-Risk High-Rise Flat-Dwelling Prisoners Support Group. Donations gladly accepted.

Having made his escape bid plans again. He clandestinely crept to the lifts, falling over his three-wheeked walker-Guide, waited for the regulation Winwood Heights twenty minutes for a lift, and got down in time to miss the bus.

He waited patiently, for the next bus, but this proved something of a benefit for the old git. Not many folks about, but he still managed to corner one poor chap, and hastened to bore him to death verbally! The man wisely moved away.

And Inchcock, being instantly bored himself now, went into one his Sherlock Holmesian modes. Someone had been blowing their nose in the bus shelter, and stuffing the tissue under the seating?

He caught the bus and got out his crossword puzzles, but the driver, obviously a stock-car racing fan, nearly had Inchy out if his seat a few times en route to Nottingham City centre. Trying to hold onto his three wheeler, took some effort.

The old chap went itn the Pondland shop on Lower Parliament Street, and despite his painful and feet, enjoyed his hobble around the store, coming out with many items he didn’t need or want, Tsk!

He got to the checkout, and got himself in a right pickle and state of embarrassment at the self-serve checkout! The lady monitoring the tills, was greatly unimpressed with his continual dropping of things and farting about trying to retrieve them.

But did not offer to help, although she shared some sneerings, of hate, derision, scornfulness and causticness with him. He came out redfaced and £20 lighter. And took these three shots of the Milton Street junction.

Where he went into the Bargain Shop. A terrible experience! No one talking, empty shelves etc. But, he still spent over £21, mostly on Christmas treats for his family of friend in Woodthorpe Court.

He was struggling now, the three-wheeler trolley-bag full, and three carrier bags hanging on the handles, would make progress awkward for him. At least he remembered to but sone of the dar clothing cleaner. He set off on a limp towards the Slab Square.

On his hobble along Milton Street to Upper Parliament Street, he noticed the Nottionghamian pedestrians crossing the road against the lights again, but this is a usual, regular occurrence. He adjusted thos spectacles.

Which was a mistake, as he turned onto Upper Parliament Street, the old fart of a fool unthinkingly took the spectacles off to clean them.

They got caught in the facemask!

He crossed over the road, and down King Street. Near the bus stops, a chap dressed like the Beatles used to, with plaited hair hanging below his shoulders, stopped him and asked for ‘a couple of quid for a coffee’. As he eyed up the bags!

Inchy just said, ‘No!’ and carried in hobbling down the hill, turning to keep an aye on the youth as he did, to make sure he wasn’t following. Getting to the Slab Square, Inchy gor out his camera for a snapping away session.

He saw the little crowd and paparazzi outside the Council House steps, he went back into Sherlock Holmesian mode, and took a close up[ phot of whoever was on the steps. This person came by. Inchy got a decent shot of his/her head.

Inch repositioned himelf a bit closer, and waited for the right moment to get a view of what was going on. Nice zoomed-in photo for once. Asssumed to be the Sheriffess or Mayoress of Nottingham? Again, not single Policeman in sight today.

The tatterdemalion, dour, malagrugrous, weary, tellurian, dangerous populace of Nottingham, were showing a bit of itnerest, at least. Not many of them had face-masks on, but it isn’t law yet to wear them outsdoors yet, methinks.

The lad poddled his way wit hdifficulty up Queen Street to get to his bus stop, and caught a number 40 back home, to his never-restfull, beloved, always something to worry about, four years being upgraded and not finished yet, Winwood Heights.

He was the only passenger when the bus moved off from the terminus. Pondering on should he get out the crossword or not; one look at the mass of bags on the trolley, and the book being at the bottom, he decided against it!

The first passenger to get on the bus, was Face-Maskless.

The second one, had his mask under his chin.

A lady got on, and she had no mask on!

As the chin-mask wearing man got up tp get off, he gave Inchy a cautionary scowl, that was a bit threatening. As the bus progressed along St Anns Well Road, it passed the Health Centre where Inchy has to go for his bladder-scan.

This is St. Anns Valley Centre, 2 Livingstone Road, Nottingham NG3 3GG.

Events over his last two visits there, do not proffer the least bit of encouragement or confidence in Inchy.

The record, as Inchy explains:

  • February: Went to get the feet done, and they said come back later, we’ll have to lool at your health record.
  • March: They refused to do my feet, cause the Warfarin level was too high..
  • July: They refused to tend to my feet, because I’d just had the stroke.
  • August: Refused again, cause of my having been diagnosed with diabetes.
  • September: The did cut my nails, but said they will not be able to so in future. I have to go private in future.

Poor old sod!

He arrived back at his Woodthorpe Court, along with the mysterious wonders of, the Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, Hallucinations and Kehuas. Materialisations, Poltergeist, Lemures, Wairuas, Manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan mission; ‘To annoy and scare the bejesus out of, and the pants off of the old energumenist, Inchcock’.

Thank you.