Windows Update

Inchie Used Cartoons: Dedicated to pensioner robbing, liar Keir Starmer

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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Hope they raise a laugh!

Inchie: Monday 29th September 2025

/ Inchie / 2 Comments

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At times, we can all get a feeling of melancholy,
Though maybe not members of the oligarchy,
Leading to depression & Godforsakenly,
Depression Darius, brings thoughts sepulchrally, 
When one copes with life, so inadequately…
You’ll end up feeling dejected, inconsolably,
You accept failures almost consentingly,
Wrongs beyond being put right, lamentably,
Each day brings challenges, physically,
On the same par as those mentally,
Seizures arrive unexpectedly, episodically,
Changing your responses, mostly erratically,
Often dwelling on thoughts elegiacally,
Bringing on doubts of your own mentality,
But I doubt you’re good at it, it’s your speciality…
As with fears, worries, making many a Whoopsie,
Accifauxpas, unaware, incogniscent of reality… 
Yet aware of life’s impracticality,
Self-hatred, self-lambasting daily, invariably,
Seventy-eight, but still acting adolescently,
Lacking in life experiences, still awaiting maturity, 
My infected brain shows a lack of ambiguity,
I missed out on debauchery, immorality, & indecency,
I was fondled in my youth by the Vicar of St Trinity,
Doreen’s Dementia brought me mental otiosity,
In the name of wealth, I feel repugnancy
I feel repugnancy at the world’s hostility…
I see the coming of worldwide anarchy,
Surrounded by complexity, difficulty… little subtlety,
Nothing to get one feeling a little chirpy…
I believe that Starmer acted reprehensibly,
When stealing the pensioners’ fuel subsidy,
Ruining family farmers, scandalously,
Taking backhanders from the Oligarchy,
Lying to the WASPI women atrociously,
Turn-coating, lying; reprehensibly!
Proving that was so untrustworthy,
He lied professionally at the Old Bailey,
He got into power, dishonestly…
He lied to win the Labour leadership, honestly!
Backed Corbyn’s policies, lyingly…
Said he’d cut tuition fees, wrongly,
National water, energy & the railway…,
He’s handed over UK fishing rights, the EU say,
For another 12 years, he’s loony!
Finding an honest MP? Hard work, operosity,
Now I study things, like universal ontosophy…
Thanks to my much belated opsimathy,
I see Starmer & Putin seeking omnipotency,
While living my last years so obsequiously,
World leaders are full of self-greed and obstinacy,
Populations now adopting discord, oppugnancy,
Curiosity, AI, political mendacity, no Omniety,
Some Governments are showing signs of ochlocracy,
Less compassion, too much oppositionality,
Even those who are not a democracy,
Keirs ace at deceit, lying and knavery…
Swindling, double-dealing, repeatedly!
Ditched Labour core values, acrimoniously,
Sneeringly, derisively, nastily & offensively,
Just think, life was meant to go algorithmically,
Procedurally, systematically, methodologically,
Programmatically, formulaically, and undeniably…
If you study these tips, investigatively…
Other options, such as malodorously,
Then, mysteriously, musingly, then melancholy,
So back to Starmer, who is not deprecatory…
And is not a Socialist, more like a Tory,
But I come to the end of this Ode, or story,
Not depressed, but feeling a little effervescently,
As High-Mood-Horis paid another visit to Inchie!
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Here we go again! Thud!
I’m beginning to wonder what’s going on around me, lately. Problems, difficulties, farces, memory lapses, seizures, bad news, and a mind that didn’t really seem to be mine at all. It may not be!

25 minutes spent on the Porcelain Throne this morning. 

Carer Ejaz arrived and set about sorting me out. He dealt out the prescription medications. Performed a body check, resulting in some creaming of the ankle and legs, and pain in the back and both Cartilages, affecting Chloe and Carol. And barrier creamed my lower regions front and back. Then became my saviour for the first time today. I was searching earlier for the charging plug for the vacuum cleaner. Could I find it? No! I spent ages searching, eventually giving up, and hoped Carer Ejaz might know where it was. It (I thought at the time) was certainly not in the main room, after all, I’d been ferreting and searching for it for that long. I asked if he knew where it was, and he started looking around. Within three minutes, he was handing me the missing plug. I’d left it on the black side table, and with the plug being the same colour, I managed not to see it during my panicky search. Fool? Me? Yes!
Ejaz graded the urine in the nocturnal pouch, then emptied it for me. He’s a good lad. I’d be lost without him calling. Ejaz then helped me with the BP checks, ensuring the Arithmaphobia had allowed me to write the correct numbers for each item in the Excel list.

I popped out on the balcony to take a snap of the end car park on Citrus Way, through the window. It didn’t come out well.

Elaz filled a bowl of hot water and disinfectant for me to wash my tootsies in and departed on his way. I’m getting close to being capable of doing this task nowadays. I use large kitchen towels to dry the feet on, using the picker-upperer to dry them off.

The blotching on the left leg was far less than it had been. It still amazes me how these can change daily; they looked great on the left leg, but not so with the right one. You can see the difference in the photo on the left here. The Cartilages seemed less bothersome this morning as well. And the legs had lost all of their swelling. Amazing, back to chicken legs now.

I took a snap catching the shadows made as the sun rose from behind the flats. It reminded me of a castle casting its shadow. 

I started much belatedly on yesterday’s blog catch-up. I had the only recognised seizure of the morning, a mini-one, and you would not believe how Much I was disoriented when I came out of it. It lasted for hours and never really cleared up at all. My concentration was crippled for the rest of the day. 
Talk about cock-ups! As I recall, I uploaded the photos to the wrong page in CorelDraw, placing them on Mondays, not Sundays. Even more time lost, losing precious time again. That was eventually corrected, except for my mistake of putting the wrong cartoon on each. Grumph!
I made a Morrison order for Tuesday after next. Then I would start wandering about, taking on other jobs and not finishing them as I found another to do. I suspect I was afraid of making more mistakes on the blog, which is why I avoided doing the very thing I set out to do. I hope you’re following this, because I’m struggling, and not a bit.

The Nurse from Cardiac called about the blood and heart monitors being set up. Giving me a chance to avoid getting back on the blog.

Then, to avoid making of bigger mess on the blog, I phoned Sister Jane. As I rang off, depressing Darius arrived and has stayed with me all day, up to now. 

Then I thought it would be better than messing up the blog, so I’d Speed Mop the kitchen floor. Could I find the speedmop? No, of course not. 

Ejaz called. Always glad to see the lad, even on a ten-minute visit. For the second time today, the lad was a saviour. He found the mop, not only that, but I think he recognised my uptight mood; he mopped the floor for me, before leaving on his way to his next client.
A kind lad, indeed. Thanks, Ejaz!

I reluctantly got the computer booted to try and force myself of of this Depression Darius mood.
It did not work!
While making notes of things to go on the blog, I thought the computer must have gone into sleep mode. So, O tapped the enter key a few times… that didn’t do anything. So, as the depression deepened, and the self-lambasting started… the mobile burst forth. It was the Doctor’s surgery, where I was told to expect a call tomorrow about the prescription medications. I was feeling so down that I didn’t ask what it was about or at what time; I just thanked her, saying that was alright, I’d be in all day. I was going to add, night, week, month, unless I have another tumble of the heart gives out, or jump off the balcony and snuff it – but I didn’t.

Carer Ejaz arrived, and I felt obligated to thank the lad for his help and explain how and why I was not my usual cheery self today. Obviously, I am greatly missing .
He appeared out of nowhere three months ago. He solved nothing, but installed a marvellous never had before “Sod-Em-All” attitude in me, that was abso-bloody-lutely brilliant! He visited me once while I was in hospital… Great! However, I haven’t seen or heard of him since. I could spit!
If ever he was needed, he is now!

I may be feeling a tad sorry for Horis’s missing?

I got the bread out to defrost and set about making a vegetable stew, of sorts… or something of that nature. Casserole? Soup?

HEALTH & SAFETY TIP OF THE DAY
Scenario: You’ve opened a tin of peas & carrots.
Cleaned and trimmed some red spring onions, sliced them, and added them to the stewpot. Then, I opened a can of water chestnuts and sliced a few up to add to the faux stew. Slice the just-boiled potatoes and mix them in the dish. Lastly, you add some fresh sliced tomatoes and red peppers from a jar.
You place them in a microwave dish, and put them in the oven… Then… you get distracted by the sunshine coming out, and decide to go on the balcony to take a photo – this doesn’t happen, because, and this is the H&S Tip bit.
When going into the medical-equipment-filled balcony, don’t get carried away with the gorgeous sky. There is every chance (like tonight) that you will walk into the sticking-out metal footrests of the wheelchair. This is not recommended!
Result!

Then, after a quick wipe and Germolen applied, back to the overcooked stew thingamajig.
Nice, all the same.

🤞🏻TTFN, EACH! 🤞🏻

Inchie: Sunday 28th September 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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Inchy felt below par in mind & body, the fool has put the wrong Ode Intro graphic title on here. This is nothing unique; the plonker has done this before. But at least he got the colour of the lettering nearly right. He expects retribution to be exacted, as it was last night. Yes, from Thought-Storming-Steve. Serves the uninhibited twit right! He’s sorry!
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Ah, the wind is blowing, as I try to get the car going…
Twas my old three-wheeled Reliant Robin,
She was aged when I bought her. She keeps stopping,
I thought it was the fuel filter, cause when I got her going,
The engine & plastic body were shuddering and shaking,
She stopped again, near a garage, so I pulled in…
Asked if I could give the RAC a ring…
Two hours later, I saw the RAC man arriving, 
Walked down to the roadway to greet him; it was raining, 
Both of us soaked, I asked the man who was serving…
If he minded if we used his WC to get dried in,
Which we did, a sociable man, we were joking…
As we left, we saw his motorbike & sidecar had been stolen,
No brooding or moaning; well, a little cursing,
I gave him a lift in my rain-soaked, now-working Robin,
To the RAC base, next to the pub, The Farmers Bobbin,
Then on to work, the rain was still coming…
I got to work late after all the kerfuffling,
What happened took some chymifying…
I told the boss what happened, but I was laughing…
I got the sack, he thought I was lying!
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More True Tales of Woe to follow,
That is, if the BP does not stay so low,
I’m running so far behind, I’ll have to go.
Not on holiday to Acapulco…
But to see my friend, Angelino…
He still owes me £150, you know,
No problem, just thought I’d let you know. 💟
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One of those terrible, LESS days.
Everything was a problem, a handicap, mingled with annoying blanks, and I was mentally all over the place. Monday, when I eventually started this blog, although feeling calmer, and the much-appreciated, even if only temporarily, departure of Anne Gyne and Toothache Tiffany, I struggled to get things in order, and some photos I cannot recall taking, but the date on the SD card told me I had taken them on Sunday.
So, I’m already behind again with the blog. With all the extra diabetic blood tests, limping slowly around with the sticks, and my mind still floating from subject A to B, I found myself doing subject C, forgetting to go back to do A and B.
I often sense that I’ve got something wrong. I’m forever going back to the kitchen to see if I’ve left the oven on, fridge or freezer doors open, or my most common mistake, left the hot water to run cold. This often hinders the washing or hand-laundering that I’d planned to do, and I become more confused and further behind with things that need doing, but don’t get done. The frustration grows, the solution being so far out of reach, beyond me.
The ablutions are now taking me a lot longer to complete. Two hours, even without having a shower. Carer Ejaz gets annoyed with me when I try to rush things or bend down to pick anything up that I’ve dropped on the floor; bless him, he has the best of intentions. He fears me ending up back in the hospital, knowing what a nightmare it was last time. Bless him. Tells me to leave them if the picker-upper cannot get them, and he will check on his next call if anything has been dropped in a dangerous place.
So, I apologise if things get out of order, are missed, or are duplicated. It’s hard work today (Monday) concentrating without getting sidetracked of thoughts and tasks that disrupt my intended pattern of plans and intentions.
This paragraph flowed too easily for my liking.
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Here I go, at last…
Bedded down at 00:10 hours, and into a broken, every now and then, sleep, forcing myself to dismount the bed at about 05:00hrs.
Carer Ejaz arrived a few minutes later as I was in the wet room battling to free the dark brown, solid, bobbly nuggets of the Constipation Konrad evacuation.
It was a long, arduous, painful task, needing a lot of urging.
Ejaz foamed the left lower leg lesions and issued the prescription medications. Gave me some extra Laxido to counteract the recent issues.
Did a body check, Porpain gelling Cartilage Chloe, and my lower back above the bottom, which he checked and reported as being bloodless. Then he barrier creamed under my flabby belly, the right arm, and the right testicle. Reminded me to take at least one stick with me whenever I moved to another room, and scolded me for bending down to pick things up. He was right, of course, he usually is, bless him. Within minutes of Ejaz’s departure, I was sitting on the Porcelain Throne again. I felt a little less resistant this time, but it did cause a bit of bleeding from Haemmorhoid Harold.

Made a start of Saturday’s blog, at the same time making several stupid errors that cost me hours to correct. Then, the return of the seizures. Then, the first one made things even worse, as it came in the middle of my trying to put right the earlier problems and foul-ups that I’d made. I’m not sure how long it lasted, but it felt like it was a long one. Because when I returned in incomprehensible confusion and disorientation, it cleared so quickly. I’ve noticed that the longer ones are so much easier and quicker to recover from. Luckily, I hadn’t continued working on the blog… when that happens, it is so time-consuming and annoying having to correct the errors I’d made in the seizure. For some unknown reason, I abandoned correcting of my earlier blogging mistakes on the blog and went to the kitchenette. I got the orange/brown nightshirt handwashed and hung it up to drip-dry on a hanger in the wet room shower rail. 
I took a snap of the kitchen window view. I’m not sure what I did wrong, but this photo had a hue that was nothing like the one in the camera’s eye-viewer when I took it.

Ejaz made a quick call, and I returned to the blog to correct so many errors that even I couldn’t believe that I’d made so many of them.

During Carer Ejaz’s teatime call, he checked, as I did, the PM Health Checks to ensure I had them right. Because the morning ones were so low, back in the danger zone.

I recall taking these cloud shots from the balcony, where I went to picture the end car park, but got carried away with the beauty of these clouds in the blue sky. I saw so many shapes within them… as any other addicted to pareidolia, like me, would.

I had to abandon blogging and finish it later; I’ll catch up in the morning. Suddenly attacked, this time including the foul, acrid taste coming up from the stomach; similar to the ones that come up after a nocturnal seizure. Concentration goes out of the window; concentration becomes a memory.
I think I rested in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner, and put the TV on. Fell asleep (or had a seizure) and woke up on top of the bed, the acidulous taste lingering, twixt my stomach and my mouth.
I urged my body off of the bed, and got the stick, off to the wet room to use some mouthwash & Peptac.
Within a few minutes, the acerbic taste dissipated, and my thoughts turned to food… I investigated what was available in the refrigerator and freezer.
I created rather than cooked up this little feast.
Country sausage (ready-cooked), cubed potatoes oven-baked, Water chestnuts, and roast chestnuts.
Very nice!

Out of the blue, a nurse arrived, apologising for calling on a Sunday. Someone is coming on Tuesday. Thinking I had been informed about her visit for today. (Naturally, I may well have been and I’d forgot about it – it could happen to anyone… but, odds are this is what happened). I am to have a home heart and blood monitor installed. She will return on the delivery day, letting me know the day before, and guide me and a Carer on how to use it. That was a nice gesture. She gave me a number to ring, should the BP be any lower than it was today. Advised me to pack a bag with things needed, just in case. Towel, pyjamas, razors, foam, prescription toothpaste & brush, slippers, etc. And not to forget my mobile, hearing aids & batteries, spectacles and a list of medications I take.

The Cardiac & DVT nurses, as well as the District Nurse, are also due to change or renew their long-overdue appointments . So, don’t fret if I’m unable to post a blog on Tuesday. As Arni said, “I’ll be back!” Hahaha! I might not even be going anywhere.

Another pretty view from the kitchenette window.

Ejaz made his last call, insisting that I get to bed early and try to get more sleep. Which gave me an inner excuse not to wash and shave, Hehe!

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🤎 Please Taketh Care, Each! 🤎
 And have a good kip, if you can
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Inchie: Saturday 27th September 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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1 believe I came across a phenomenon,
A prognostication visiting the psychometrician,
The man was a bit of a pecksniffian…
He asked if I indulge in procreation…
He noticed my tackle was positively pygmean,
We didn’t get as far as any prognostication,
One trait I have plenty of is being plebeian,
His suggestion, for my next Odes pultrusion…
My ailments & failures, now in profusion,
Said my heart failure is down to poor perfusion,
I’m not sure if he was a Doctor, a homoeopath, or a surgeon…
A consultant, obstetrician, or a prison physician,
Was it I or he who was the pigwidgeon?
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Ejaz graded this dollop as a 7½ rating.

Carers desk.
Rubbish bags.

Washed nightshirt hanging to dry

A murder of crows.
Regaining their territory. Young ones searching for carrion in the end car park. All part of parent training.

A much-belated start on this blog.

Must call Sister Jane in the morning. And Jenny, too.

A day of without a single visit from, also perhaps the brain-foggiest one since I got back from the hospital.
The increased pain from the knee fractures was tolerable. However, they eased suddenly at night, and for hours I could walk about with relatively little pain. Naturally, in the morning, they were back again, but it was an unexpected experience that I enjoyed. But I would have preferred to have had a visit from . Anne Gyna and Toothache Tiffany were both far less painful, too.
It was my brain that worried me a smidgeon. Active, but wayward, and when I got to sleep, activated and ruined what otherwise would have been a decent 5-hour kip.
Constantly waking up, and getting back asleep, only to find that was waiting for me. I got to the point of trying not to nod off again, and lay there mind-blankly waiting fearfully for the inevitable dropping off again, and of course, he just would not leave me alone. Churning over past errors, options taken, guilt creating and multiple embarrassing memories… non-stop. Of course, I am aware that it is me, my warped brain. This was like a self-lambasting, everlasting nocturnal period of self-hatred. Despite the knee agony that had returned, I had to go through the pain of getting up to go to the Porcelain Throne… and that was still controlled by , and only wind was passed. But that was better than listening and arguing with myself mentally. Steve had not been bothering me for ages; even in the hospital, he was noticeable by his absence.
I suppose I’ll have to mention this to the Neurologist at the meeting. Here, on the blog, I just tell it as it is. But sitting face-to-face with someone to say to them is a different experience. Hey-ho!
You never know, I might wake up in the morning, somersault out of bed while yodelling and do a backflip… free of pain, vision and hearing repaired and working, or not.

And that was only a fleeting morning visit.


I believe my brain has lost its perception
logicality, discrimination & elucidation

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Inchie: Friday 26th September 2025 – Medical appointments flooding in

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Pondering his theme, for his Ode this Friday…
Sometimes an idea comes to him immediately,
But you know Inchies’ unreliable memory!
His themes get intermingled, like a musical medley,
Differing, wrong words creep in meddlesomely,
Guaranteeing the resulting ode is, at best, mediocrity,
Gets a phone call or visit, back to his odeing for Inchie,
His themes and ideas, now written nonsensically…
The chances of a Seizure will naturally…
Inspire a blank brain, ideas, inspirations go aborally,
He waits for the return of logicality, contemptibly,
Starts feeling sorry for himself, self-piteously,
Which leaves his creativity in assymmetry…
Dawns, distressingly,
does not show up; depressingly,
Inchie stops, can’t cope, has had enough… feels sleepy?
Inchie climbed into bed, but it was agony…
From the thrice-fractured left hand and knee,
Carer Ejaz assisted me, helpfully…
To get stood up back on my knee… 
Ah, that stirred a thought, for me personally, 
My Fracture Clinic appointment at the QMC!
I have to arrange transport for Friday, October 23,
Both ways, to be at the fracture clinic for 13:30,
Carer Ejaz called & spotted another Inchie whoopsie!
The appointment was for 22nd October, not for 23…
He’s aware of my problems physically & mentally…
Checked an online order, I’d ordered a Christmas Tree!
He did not act in any way risibly…
Just cancelled it, and had a laugh with me!
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I reluctantly woke up. Realised how late it was for me, gone 06:00hrs – and forced myself through the agony of the much-fractured left knee pains up on my feet.
In the midst of this suffering, I had a visit, the first in a week or so, from Anne Gyna.
She seemed to be concentrating on my mid-chest area, which at first made me a bit concerned that it might not be Anne, but rather another new ailment related to the ticker. But by the time I’d done my morning balance testing, she’d nipped around the right side and had a stab at the left side of the neck, then returned to concentrate on the chestbone area, so I knew it was Anne Gyna and had stopped fretting about the situation. A pain you know, is better than any new pains, methinks.

I saved some of the contents after emptying the nocturnal catheter pouch into the pot I keep for such matters, so Carer Ejaz could check the colour.

I hobbled into the wet room for a fruitless and movement-free evacuation. Still, there was nothing to clean up. Hehe!  The other three visits of the day were all the same. An extraordinary amount of wind escapage, but no movement from the innards, torpedo-wise. Mmm!

The much-fractured left knee seemed even more painful today. (And it got worse on Saturday!

I got stripped and ready to tackle the medicationing and have a good scrub-up, and Carer Ejaz came.
He found some out-of-date things in the fridge and removed them for me. He told me to remember to check them every day and to remind him to… We both laughed out loud as we realised what he’d just said; His telling-me-of-frown melted in a big grin, as he saw the look of credibility on my face, and he said, “Oh, I realise what I just said – I asked you to remind me!” The shared laughter had us both in a fun mood in seconds. We do have a laugh regularly, but this one was even funnier than ever. Hahaha!
Me, remind him? There would be a greater chance of Herr Starmer admitting he’s incapable, a liar, and then topping himself. (But we all need hope).

I think Ejaz and I both missed each other while I was incarcerated in the Cardiac, Geriatric and Fracture Wards in the Queens Medical Centre for so long. With dear, sweet Jenny welcoming me back and the joy on Ejaz’s face when I got home, those moments were precious for me. I am a big softy!

Ejaz got the diabetic sock on my feet. Did a body check and Porpained gelled the knees and cartilages. He spotted a red patch under my right arm and put some Barrier cream on for me. 
He read the letter from the fracture clinic and was dubious about their suggestion that if I stayed off my feet, things might improve without the need for surgical intervention, given my age.

Back to the wet room, and took another failed evacuation. Seems it is the turn of Conrad Constipation to rule things for a while.

I am now at the page, where I was writing things down while in a mini-seizure. Cause it appears a lot of things started happening, but most of them are unreadable scribbles and far too meaningless, with the odd line of clarity. A bit like Ex-Barrister and Pensioner-Robbing Starmer? The event that followed lasted for approximately five hours. About a quarter of the notes here were readable, so a lot was missing. Even Ejaz couldn’t make them out. The odd words that I was certain of have comments of a “take-it-with-a-pinch-of-salt” about them. 

A letter from the fracture clinic. I managed to get mixed up with it in classic “Inchie Style”. Saturday, Ejaz pointed out I’d recorded the appointment in the Google Calendar for the wrong day and time.
Hard to believe, I know! Well…

A District nurse called on me to ask a load of questions. I could not make out anything else I wrote about this, but it was a page & a bit long.

A phone call (Mobile) from the Neurosurgeon’s office arrived. After a few minutes, as I didn’t understand much of what was said, we lost the connection. This new mobile phone is rubbish!

Another call from the DVT Warfarin Unit came in (Landline). An appointment has been made for October 1st for the Warfarin Blood Test. I think they are responding to each of the blood tests taken in the hospital, I was having about eight a day, I reckon. I’ve got pretty bruise patterns on both arms and the back of each hand; they are fading now, just as I was getting used to them. Laugh? Yes?

The following three items were unreadable. Possibly, I was writing them while in a Seizure, the nurse said. How can that be? Beats me.

Rubbish bins tackled.

Can’t recall taking this.

Ejaz, on his teatime call, spotted that the burgers in the fridge had sell-by dates for today.
So, I’ll get them done with some chips for supper.

I tried to sort out how to take the wheelchair pads on and off. Hehe! Not the foggiest idea!

Bootifull!
For an unknown reason, I got chest pains after, even while eating this meal. Indigestion, I imagine. Taking Peptac didn’t ease it at all. I took a Codeine 30g.

An amazing sky tonight.

I got a late landline call from the DVT Warfarin lady. They will be calling on me on the 1st of October to take blood for testing. I feel I got a call like this yesterday. But who knows what’s going on? It’s indeed not me. My mind has always been confused over the last few days. I’ve been saved several times from making a blunder by Carer Ejaz (4), Sweet Jenny (2) and ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress Warden Deana (1).
I’m not exactly in a confident mood whatsoever at the moment. My mind seems to be changing from incompetent to… well, it’s not working correctly at all. High-Mood-Horis has abandoned me. My evacuations have gone from watery, not making it to the Porcelain Throne in time, to over the last two days, nothing but wind has passed from my rear end. I must ask Carer Ejaz to give me some Laxido. I dare not ask him until tomorrow, for fear of nocturnal torrents escaping while I’m in bed tonight. I suppose I’m morphing into a mental & physical wreck. Oh, I like that description, oh yes, spot on, and witty!

Which will go first, I wonder? The ticker’s obviously now an odds-on favourite. Maybe Duodenal Donald, or now that she’s back and in good form, maybe Anne Gyna will nobble me? 

Ideally, whichever ailment or body part that knobbles me… I might make a an odds list? Hehe!
Which ailment will have me over? Cartilage Chloe? The newly fractured left knee? Anne Gyna? Water on the brain? Will Little Inchies Fungal Lesion bleeding? No, the ticker failing is my favourite. If only High-Mood-Horis would visit with his gift of installing one of his amazingly satisfying “Sod-them-all” moods. Then it wouldn’t matter. Not that it matters much anyway. If High-Mood-Horis would only pay me a visit. Especially when Dark-Dank-Depressing Darius is dawning without warning, and his blessed “Sod-them-all” mood, would be so welcome.

There’s no question nor doubt about it…

As I was writing this, ♫Oh, Susana♫ burst from the door chime as Carer Ejaz made his last call. Glad to see him, I always am. But, unfortunatley, after he’d departed, I’d forgotten what I was going to write, and what there was no question nor doubt about!
But I’m there was no doubt… Sad,innit?

Humph! Thank heavens for Ejaz coming.

# = # = # = # = # = # = # = # = #
Have a Blessed Peaceful Day!
# = # = # = # = # = # = # = # = #

Inchie Today for: Sunday 7-24thSept 2025. Hospitalised Again

/ Inchie / 17 Comments

No photographs or graphics, I’m afraid. A cartoon.
Due to waking up at about 05:00 hours and foolishly not allowing myself time to do the balance exercises, as I was still a day behind on my blogging. And decided that getting washed, shaved, and medicated was a good idea, so I’d crack on with making this blog’s template nice and early. That was, if I remember rightly, the plan I had in mind. However…
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Sunday 7th Septsoddittember.
Dizzy Dennis sent me down in an instant, a painful, crumpled heap, in agony, but I still fell asleep, alert, alarm activated, waiting for the ambulance. Carer Ejaz arrived to wake me, then the ambulance collected me. I was taken first to the A&E. Then, I was off to the GAU (Geriatric Accident Unit) at the QMC. Bone fractures in my finger, wrist, and four in my left knee. Three weeks later, and the hip & back pains are still bothering me, ever since returning home yesterday. 24th Sept, Wednesday.
Monday 8th Septsoddittember.
Visits in the ward from Social Workers wanting to help me, nothing happened, naturally. A jolly-looking lady from Physical Therapy, a Doctor, chatted about Peripheral Neuropathy. Things may be out of order, chronologically… I almost guarantee.
Tuesday 9th Septsoddittember.
No paper left, the pen ran out of ink, sadly,
One cleaning teeth session for this internee.
Moved to Cardiac, more tests, you see!
Wednesday 10th Septsoddittember.
Shaveless, visionless, deaf, nurses emptying out my pee,
Rear-end evacuations repetitively…
Transitioning from concrete to wet and runny.
Thursday 11th Septsoddittember.
Sister Jane came to see me with Pete, her hubby,
More diagnostic imagery in Radiology,
The rest of the day was spent in painful reflexology.
Back for more tests and another X-ray.
On the hip & wrist this time, not on the knee,
Friday 12th Septsoddittember.
Friday’s fish and chip meal, I ate it voraciously…
The rear-end evacuations went uncontrollably,
A night of swearing, howling, and muttering,
Obviously, some patients were suffering…
Then they started shouting & arguing,
The nurses carried on blood taking…
Saturday 13th Septsoddittember.
My lowest to date BP reading…
Sys 93, Dys 33, Blood count 23!
Worried about this? Me?
Couldn’t give a toss at the time, actually.
Sunday 14th Septsoddittember.
Five minutes later, nurses from Cardiology
descended, and I was surrounded… lucky Inchy!
To take another reading, needles in, but I was not bleeding?
Eventually, they managed to get the blood trickling…
The colour was orange, the amount was piffling!
I was moved back to the cardiology Wing!
They gave me some of the blood sugar booster,
The medics seemed to be all in a flutter…
They said after that I’d asked for bread & butter,
Monday 15th Septsoddittember.
All drugged up, mind & thoughts unsure…
Stirred back to consciousness, aware,
The medic’s efforts had been sustentacular,
Blood count now showing 89 – 59, Spectacular!
Tuesday 16th Septsoddittember.
Back to the cardiac unit, the drugs soon had me sleeping,
I was quickly aware that I was dreaming,
Yet felt the mild ankle electric shocks shooting…
Up my leg, which was doing its own thing, trembling,
The nurse thought I was panicking & seizing.
Wednesday 17th Septsoddittember.,
There were fairies on the bed, tapdancing…
I could even see their eyes twinkling, faces smiling,
Realising then, I was having a bed-bath & towelling,
Somewhere in my mind I was tabogganing…
Then thought no, it was more like falling,
And nodded into peaceful sleeping,
I heard music, someone bag-piping?
His hand beckoning me… silently calling,
Thursday 18th Septsoddittember,
Woke up properly in Ward C54, red Zone,
A battleground with no time to cavort,
The atmosphere here had gone all wrought,
How we got through it, with staff & patients unhurt…
However, actual violence, we did thwart.
Friday 19th Septsoddittember,
Bedridden oldies, some naked, a few in a nightshirt,
Patience was beginning to run short,
Swearing, name-calling, had they been given drugs to snort?
Threats of violence, in which I was upcaught!
Saturday 20th Septsoddittember,
They kicked off again in the morning,
While I was undergoing my walking frame training,
Herbert, the worst one, started threatening…
A nurse who was calming him, well, trying…
He put his head down towards her, bullying, cursing,
This made my blood boil, I was fuming,
I launched at him,  was stopped by a Doctor & therapist,
Security arrived, taking him down with degust,
I’m usually a pacifist and altruist,
I approached the bully with his folded fist…
His intimidating a nurse made me subverst,
Was this a psychiatric ward? I was guilty, no pretence,
We all had neurological and or psychiatric psychosis,
I was spoken to by a neuropsychiatrist,
I went to the man to apologise, but he got in first…
Said he was so sorry,
We both acted shamefully!
When things blew up again later, I reacted more calmly,
Ensuring I was never again a haranguer.
Sunday 21st Septsoddittember,
Informed that tomorrow, I’d be leaving,
Informed the staff of Inchie Today, blogging,
Pleased, I was told by many doctors,
Of many upcoming appointments,
One with a neuropsychiatrist…
Rearrange missed appointments,
First, with the audiologist,
Then with the Sherwood Dentist,
Warfarin and Deep Vein Thrombosis,
Monday 22nd Septsoddittember,
My leaving was delayed today,
Perhaps it will be done on Tuesday?
Through three arterial blood gas (ABG) tests,
67 at its highest was the best,
Time for another session on the oxygen mask,
And rich foods to avoid cyanosis,
I’ll look this up when I get home, see what it is.
Monday 22nd Septsoddittember,
Early morning blood oxygen level is even lower, 
I can only hate & blame Starmer! 
To me, this doesn’t show adversity,
Fed ultra-sweet stuff, persistently, Sickeningly,
Misadventures, afflictions, never-ending calamity,
Mistakes, errors, life’s incompatibility…
Frustration, depression, apprehension… 
Surviving had been my vocation,
Until insanity found my location,
I’ve never been anything like a vaurian,
Look up what it’s like to suffer verbigeration,
Oligarchs see wealth as being Utopian, 
This waffling off subject, nears its conclusion…
I’m now tired, baffled and full of confusion…
At life’s cruel creeping transubstantiation,
I’m no philosopher, scholar or theoretician,
In fact, I’m bonkers, there’s an admission!
I’m a mentally affected phenomenon…
I’ll finish this Ode with some trepidation, 
Then take my tablets for constipation,
Things may improve after my trephination?
If considered necessary by my neurosurgeon,
Anyway, the QMC released Inchy…
On 24th Septsoddittember, Wednesday.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I had a lift home in an ambulance, had a joke or two with the ambulance men, and got them laughing en route.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Although it was a right mess that required cleaning up. 
No one had responded to my request to inform Blogger Paul of my incapacitation. In fact, the Warden did not even know I’d been in the hospital! But I was so glad to be home, and took some photographs of the kitchen sky views when I got in before doing anything else.

Oh, I missed these cloud formations,
Just love them.
Enough pleasuring for a moment, I 
had to check the dates of the food in
the fridge. Then remembered I called Deana
to tell her I was coming out, so as to speak,
Hehe, and she’d checked them earlier for me. 👍🏼❤

Then, Carer Ejaz arrived. We’d missed each other over the QMC holiday (sarcasm there, Hahaha!)
He did a grand job with the laundry and sorted all the medical paperwork I had been sent home with for me. Checked the catheter bag and body welts. I’d got a lot of them, with all that time I’d spent lying in the hospital bed.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I got a call from Jenny in a flat below, bless her.
She came up to see me and we had a natter. That was precious to me, a lovely lady, and it was she who rang Deana and Julie about my blog not being published. And since her back was so painful when she had to stand and walk, she made the effort to welcome me back.
❤❤❤❤❤
An Angel – Bless you, Jenny XXX

Then the phone calls started coming in, which only confused me further, but they were all about medical matters. ICC (Carers) had arranged a Carer (Ruby) to give me a lift to the Doctors for the blood samples to be taken on Thursday. Smashing!
The Lady rang, confusing me about the appointment with the Nuthall bonkers house assessment being cancelled, until after the Neuropathy Surgeon had interviewed me. Nurse Rebecca came to ask about what had happened at the hospital. She then checked my legs and ankles, and arranged for a much belated catheter contraption renewal, but I can’t recall when it is for.
Next, the DVT Warfarin clinic rang.
Carer Ruby ran me to the Doctors for the blood test, and my beautiful, desirable, caring Nurse Caroline took it, and passed on messages to Ruby about the Warfarin home visits being cancelled until the 1st of November. Then a new Warfarin dosage arrived. Still too high, with a change. By now, I was struggling to get a grip on the flood of changes coming in. 
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Ejaz had got a grip of the medication dosage changes, though.
Thankfully!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Got some nice evening shots.
From the kitchenette window.
It is now 02:25hrs! Tired out, I am, and 
must get something to eat.
Sweet & Sour vegetables with sausage, accompanied by Gung Po sauce, and cheesy bread rolls.
I think I’ve uploaded the wrong photo here.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Friday already, no sleep, all the hassles of the day, and now the damaged knee has been joined by pain from Anne Gyna, which worsens when standing, sitting, or walking. Humph!

Bedtime now, or is it worth it at 03:00hrs?
Better wash the pots first and do the safety checks.

Oh, Ejaz made a quick visit, Porpain gelled the knee and my back for me. I think he’s a grand lad.

Cheers Each
All The Bestest!

Oh, I forgot, I found this photo on the web of British cigarettes from the 1950s and 1960s. The equivalent of about 17½p a packet.
Did a check on today’s prices on Google.
A pack of 20 cigarettes in the UK currently costs between approximately £14.00 and £18.00, with the average price for January 2025 reported at £ 16.40.
Good job, I stopped years ago. Who can afford them at these prices?
Oh, yes, Oligarchs!

PEACE!

A Time-Travellers Tormentingly Troubled True Tales – Part One

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

– – – – – – – – PART ONE – – – – – – – –
In 1950, I went on holiday to Wales. I lodged in Tintern village. It was steeped in history, with stone pubs and the evocative ruins of Tintern Abbey, dating back to the 12th century.  With its Devil’s Pulpit legend, a local myth about the Devil tempting monks from a rocky outcrop above the abbey ruins, to sin, debauch & have a good time. 
This fable interested me, and on the first morning, instead of going fishing, I ventured up the rock-strewn precipice up to the Abbey Grounds and into a large wooded area. Where, the locals told me, many poachers had been found with their throats cut. With the Devil tempting monks from a rocky outcrop above the abbey ruins, to sin, debauch & have a good time… I wondered if he was still in there…

I came across a very old wishing well and casually threw in a penny, wishing I could see the Devil’s Pulpit. Well, you would have, wouldn’t you? As an afterthought, I lobbed in a threepenny bit, and asked to be given the power of time travel – I turned my head and all around me was devastation, no plants, animals or people. Then, right next to me, a sort of spaceship appeared from nowhere. Out of the ship came three men in uniforms with some kind of weapons, and they dragged me into their craft. 
No one spoke to me; they clouted me around the head and kicked me in the goolie occasionally, but no one spoke. I thought I must be dreaming. Then realised the blood coming from my newly acquired wounds was real. Within a couple of minutes, I was put in a large room and hung up on the wall. It looked very hygienic and clean, so I wouldn’t have been at the old Abbey. 
An hour passed, and I took a glance at the police officers of some sort, by looking at their uniforms. They cut me down. Then pointed to the open door, still not speaking to me. They had floating on air vehicles. I was put alone in one of the seats, and it took me through several walls, rooms, out over some turfing, and into what was obviously a court of some sort. Whatever they were in this massive room, they spoke to me in good English.
I can’t recall the exact words, but it went along these lines: James Timothy Gerald Algernoon Chambers, also known as Inchie, is charged with operating a time machine in a careless, uncontrolled fashion, causing damage to the flora and fungi in Sector 114/TT in the Republic of Wales this day, Thursday, 324th of Junnock 4025. How do you plead?
“I haven’t got a time machine!”
“Liar! His Lordship, the Devil’s Pulpit, issued you with one in 1951, that’s how you go here!”
“Well, I was the wishing well and…”
“Hold it, more evidence coming in…”
“It seems to have attempted to bribe the Wishing Well with extra funds to get time-travel, according to our records.” 
“You know full well that each time machine operates differently, I mean, you wouldn’t drive a Sinclair 5013688014956BEX the same as you would a TREX05, now would you? That’s obvious to anyone!”.
The man with three eyes interrupted the four-eyed judge: “Are you saying you are operating a Time-Machine without a Licence?”
“Well… yes!”
There was an aghast sound from the gallery, with the odd, “Hang-Him! Cut-of-his-goolies! Give him life!.
A spoke up in protest, “That’s not fair!”
“It’s the law, Inchie. You will be beheaded on the guillotine in…”
A bald man rose and pleaded for mercy for me.
“M’Lord, can we not show mercy? At least make an appeal to our barrister-minded Saviour, His Everythingness Head Wallah, for mercy – naturally throwing in a decent backhander for Starmer?

Hahaha!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
There’s more to come on this!

Inchie: Sunday 31st August 2025

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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I’m worried about the Grim Reaper,
Not visited in August, now it’s September!
Has something changed his agender?
Last we met, he spoke of a nymph named Rusalka,
A female creature who seeks souls not after…
death, but before, & ferry them to Purgatory,
Each is an illegal immigrant soul-gatherer,
They come in dreams, offering virgins for a fiver,
The Virgin Goddess of the Hunt, Dziewona,
I’ve missed my designated soul-collector,
He was straight-talking, no verbal garniture,
For my last day, he promised me fresh golonkowa…
With sourdough bread & pickled cucumber,
I thought a moment ago that I could smell vinegar,
He said he’d get me in a cell with souls of kvetchers,
He guaranteed to keep me safe from Herr Starmer,
And his lies, bullying and moratoria…
I couldn’t have asked for better…
Me, a mentally-challenged failed rhymester,
When I die, decease, perish, & meet St Peter,
I leave this mortal coil, led by my Grim Reaper,
He will try to become my permanent Carer,
It’s love, I think, though it sounds macabre,
Gawd, I hope he wasn’t a leg-puller!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

She was still shaking when I stirred at 06:15 hours. (Another late one). That might teach me not to shoulder-charge the wetroom door frame… at least, not so often. I had to laugh at myself when I reached down to retrieve the nocturnal catheter bag for emptying – it showed I was still on edge from yesterday’s mishaps. I used my left hand to hold the shoulder in case she had loosened the joint with her overnight rattling and shudderings. Haha! Now, a laugh upon waking may be a sign that things will go better today. Mind you, look what happened to Hitler when he attacked Russia.

Very few photos and news on the blog today. I must try to at least complete yesterday’s blog. If I have the time, I need to complete the 30 templates for September. I know, not a cat-in-hells chance. But I must at least try.
Oh, no, just remembered I can use Jetpack, like I did last month. I did it in half the usual time. Now, if only I could remember how I did it. Never mind, there are still unknown challenges to come. Do I sound a smidgeon pessimistic? 
First kitchenette shot

Evacuation Conrad Constipation Controlled.

Carer Nimra. Body Check. 
Some new blood-filled swelling was spotted.
They were not painful, but Nimta called the Community Nurses. They will send someone to inspect the area. Later decided Monday, not today. This will be no problem.

Amazingly, I completed the templates in record time, despite dealing with numbers.

Morning snap

Seizures are getting frequent. I spent ages in repeated recovery times, doing nothing.

Afternoon…
cloud…
photos.

Hours & hours doing blogs.

TTFN

Inchie: Sat 30 Aug: Yet another lousy day! Confusion Konrad, Depression Darius, Sandra Seizures, but little High-Mood-Horis!

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Where do I leave my words of perspicuity?
I’ll try to explain to you clearly,
Mayhap inside a time capsule,
Where do we bury it? In a school,
Perhaps a police station or hospital?
All three will be run by the Oligarchy,
Used by backhanergivers & the aristocracy,
If Herr Starmer gets his way,
What goes in our time capsule?
The lies of Herr Starmer, the fool?
His standards? Self-motivated & dual…
Kiers lies, barriserial & political?
I, like millions, look forward to his burial!
 – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

What a day! The agony started as soon as I woke up. I was in fact enjoying the peace of being in a seizure, unaware of that, of course, it seems the only way to get any sleep and stay in it nowadays, but the recovering after effects were pretty harmful, as per usual. The door chime rang, stirring me cruelly back to reality. But my confusion and balance were all over the place. Getting out of bed took that long; the chime stopped. I continued the battle to get on my feet and carried the nocturnal bag with me to save time, to reach the panel when they called back, and to unlock the door.
In the rush and confusion, I got the catheter bag caught on the corner shelf as I exited the room… Knocking off and breaking a small ornament I kept in memory of my wonderful Aunty Kath. Amidst all the panic, Depression Darius joined me, with Frustration Frank and a rare visitor, Fearful Fred. I was aware that the confusion and panic were coming from the seizure recovery, but that didn’t help.
When I unlocked the door,  and, daft as it sounds, I had no idea what day or time it was, which panicked me further. I’d had no rest & recovery time, do you see? I’ve no idea what happened, just a few odd bits, of which I’m not certain anyway.
When Carer Nimra came in, I was back sitting on the bed with my head in my hands. (The head hadn’t fallen off, Hehe!) No recollection of much of what took place. Lots did, cause there was a full page of scribbled notes about it. Undecipherable, so I must have written them while still recovering after Carer Nimra had departed. The last bit I could read… I went into another seizure as Nimra left. I recall her telling me to sit down, I’m going now… There was nothing the gal could do anyway. Bless her. I got back on the bed. I think it was minutes later, I came back to reality, and all the after-effect symptoms had, as expected, returned. I was not going to risk getting up too quickly or soon after being forced to; that was not a pleasant experience.

I rose carefully about 15 minutes later. Grabbed Willie the Wooden Walking Stick. Off to the kitchen to steep a Detox bag in water. I visited the Porcelain Throne. Feeling more comfortable and with it as time passed. A 100% turnaround in the evacuation. Hard work, painful and bloody session. Yet a nice change from the last eight sloppy, wet, spattery Trotsky Terence cleaning up-after trips.

Later, I found this shot of the trees & bushes on the front of the flat’s walkway and carpark. I can’t recall when, or even if, I took it.

There were numerous issues with CorelDraw and the SD reader; in fact, it completely crashed. Boy, was I struggling with fitting the new one. Yes, I was!
I got the new SD reader out of its box. The SD cards now have to be inserted upright, which my Cramp-ridden, arthritic, and Peripheral neuropathy-affected fingers were reluctant to let me do. The more I use it, the easier it might get. It features several additional benefits, including a turn-on/off button for each socket. Which will be no use to me if I can’t find out how to replug it in the back of the computer.  
I was leaning forward to plug in the one… and PN’s dying neurotransmitters, shot the wire from my grip… They often perform similar actions, such as preventing me from gripping something or not allowing me to release something. I’ve broken countless mugs and plates. You may have noticed I no longer use plates, only paper ones or metal ones. This can be a problem when removing a hot dish from the microwave or oven, and I’m unable to release the hot dish or tray. You may have noticed the number of burns I collect. Haha! 
I was nearing the point of accepting that forgetting the socket for us and losing the plug wire would cause a terminal issue here. Carer Nimra arrived at just the right moment. At my point of despair…
She knew which socket to use and inserted it for me.
WALLAH! And I then had a new SD reader that worked
YeeHaa! No, double, even treble YeeHaa! 
Bless her cotton socks!
But, more good news! I  know, you are not used to getting good news from Inchie Today.
I put the mousse and keyboard senders in the last two plugs, and the SD reader in the next one. There are on/off buttons for each connection! I then grilled Nimra, asking what had taken place this morning, saying I couldn’t recall. She calmly told me I was all over the place verbally and physically. But don’t worry, you coped well with it all. I realised she’d not put the diabetic socks on, but had given me the morning’s prescription medications. So I spent the day sockless, Herhehe! Undoubtedly, this saved the day for me and was what spurred a short, but pleasantly acceptable visit from ! Then… No chance to start yesterday’s blog update yet. Because the frustratingly unreliable CorelDraw started playing up, and after sorting out the failure to save the page was due to a lack of memory, I pondered what I could do about it.

Going into a seizure, the length of reading War & Peace, compared to the usual 2 to 15 minutes, did me no good at all. I cannot judge how long it lasted, but it must have been a long one, because the after-effects and recovery time are always easier after a lengthy seizure. Also, the mug of Glengettie tea that I’d made was now stone cold! And, getting the brain to concentrate was a lot easier than after one or a series of .
I summoned as much intellectualisation as Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Mavis could muster, to try and find a solution to my problem with CorelDraw. Graphic artists worldwide have to do this regularly, I’m sure. So, having pondered, the best I could come up with was to use CCleaner and hope it creates enough space in the process. So, I did.
I had closed Excel and Word, then Google, and after saving the work, I ran CCleaner. It allowed me to keep CorelDraw open. (Sadists! Haha!) CCleaner claimed it had removed 2500 KB from the hard drive and 967 KB from the drive. This looks good, I thought.
Back to CorelDraw to try to save the work again. I opened Google, was going to go back to CorelDraw…

That went well… I waited, and waited for the windows to update. Not sure if I fell asleep or not. What day is it? What was I doing?
I had confidence once back on CorelDraw that CCleaner must have removed enough to save the artwork. I tried – it didn’t work. I screamed, wailed, spat & cried. My language was a bit crude.
I lost all the photographs when CorelDraw froze again! I did cry this time!

Then, yet another cock-up was made! I seem to be becoming an expert on these.
Amazon sent me an email stating that the £149 wheelchair, which had received adverse reports, had been cancelled. I promptly placed an order for one of the £184 models with handbrakes on the handles for the Carer or pusher, but with self-propelling wheels. I was thrilled that I might be able to get out and about on my own.
I realised that I had not checked the comments on this model, so I did. They were a replica of the comments on the £149 model???
But it had been a terrible day for me, and I was getting more and more tired and sleepy now, after suffering enough problems, Whoopsiedangleplops and frustrations to last me over the last few days for the rest of my life. Well, maybe. I’m still far behind with blogging than I’ve ever been. I frustratedly gave up on the computer and got my overdue Ablutions done.
The seat marks under my arm had worsened significantly overnight. I’ll ask the Carer to use the barrier cream and remind them to remove all traces of the old cream, then clean the area with baby wipes. This is only if I remember to ask whoever comes. As ‘Forgetters go!’, I think I deserve an award for my sheer dogged persistence, regularity, & stupidity.
I almost had myself over when I washed my feet in disinfectant in the bowl while shaving, getting only one cut! It did bleed a bit, mind you.
I foolishly decided to get a short-sleeved black kagoule hand-washed and rinsed, then hung it up in the wet room to dry on the shower curtain rail. As I turned to leave the room… I shoulder-charged the door edge. Which set off on one of her vicious attempts to dislodge the ball from the socket! Not that this actually surprised or upset me, it was just another cog, pain and annoyance on my way to total insanity. I’m not ready for considering suicide yet, cause I still have dreams of someone assassinating Starmer; I’d hate to miss that, and it would give a little lift, and laugh. I’ve paid for my funeral. I told the Carer where the details are. Not that I’m in any rush. Oh no, but if things carry on as they are… well!

I’m assuming that I had a seizure. I came back and was mopping the kitchen floor with the speed mop. The storage trolley was out of position, I’d moved food from a cupboard onto the floor near the radiator, and opened both windows. I’d been busy during my ictus? No one has explained to me how this can be so. Impossible to happen, surely?
Now this had happened before. If I recall rightly, it was the same as last time. The recovery and confusion were far less than having had an ‘ordinary’ seizure when all I apparently did was say, according to the Carers who were with me at the time: Sometimes with open eyes, others with them closed, but always with jerks, shaking and a mumbling of incoherent short words. Joeonce wrote down what I was babbling about in short outbursts; Urghum, Worramum, ehereherehu and No, no. With different expressions for each so-called word?
But how can I do things like moving things, and mop a floor? Mind you, I made a mess of that and had to clean it again this time.

And what happened to my feeling of being so drained?
Why should I do it at this time of night, let alone during a seizure? How? Why? Thankfully, these don’t occur very often… Ah! Perhaps there is a connection to my feeling of being so tired? Nae!

I keep getting myself off track tonight. But the need of food arose. I looked in the fridge to see what was available for dining on. The photo above reveals two outdated food items that I had to discard. The pastie on the right was use-by 19th Aug. Whatever it was inside that had gone mouldy and showing through the pastry and bag was mysterious enough. But then, why did I buy them in the first place? My tiredness returned.

I decided, after seeing what was not available to eat, to opt for frozen chip shop chips, tomatoes, and two defrosted cheesy-topped no-butter buttered bread rolls, along with some cheap £1-a-packet ham slices, which were well within their use-by date, 8th September. Worryingly, the highest ingredient listed was water.
However, they were a success (Not the meat, but the tomatoes, bread and chips were lovely).

There’s a chance of a miracle having taken place here. I cannot remember seeing the moon while I was in bed. Sometimes I see the hue coming through the tatty, thin curtains. I’ve been known to scramble out of bed to take a shot of it. I’m sure I didn’t tonight… well, as sure of anything I can ever be sure of. But that’s not saying much, is it? This snap was so beautiful, I’d have thought I’d remember taking it.
It’s Sunday evening as I write this. I’m now over two blogs behind. I think. I’m waffling on, and still have Sundays to start, and 30 templates to make up.
I’ll do a quickie for Sunday. Just the top graphics, CorelDraw permitting.
An Ode, hopefully.
And a photo or two…
I should get it done by Christmasish. Haha!.

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MISSING HORIS!

🤎 CHEERY-BYE FOLKS 🤎

Inchie: Friday 29th August 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Random things that can yet, or did, make me happy…
From memory, diaries, and some even theoretically,
At 14, a Lady of forty took my cherry,
Which I loved, but why? It confused me,
Which life has done, ever since, diurnally,
Later, developing a natural negativity,
Cynicism, defeatism, and despondency,
This helped me cope with life’s adversity,
At birth, Mother said, ‘Throw it away’,
Life would have been a little shorter…
but have gone less problematically,
Am I losing the plot of the faux-poetry?
No, it’s just my affected memory…
In old age, my teeth are rotting away…
Diabetes Don, Anne Gyna, Cartalige Chloe,
Duodenal Donald, Toothache Tiffany,
Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Peggy,
Myoclonic-Seizures-Sid, Peripheral Neuropathy,
Inchy’s Fungal Lesion, & Lymphorrhea Leslie,
Méniere’s disease, Episodic-Ataxia-Ellie,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids, Eric’s Eczema,
Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, mentally,
Earache Eric, Whoopsiedangleploppery,
Herings aids, both needing a battery,
Ingrowing toenails; Unguis Incarnate Nelly,
Mechanic Ticker Trevor and Reflux Valve Rene,
Newly-diagnosed Hydrocephalus-Harry,
They don’t overbother me, individually,
For they are all a part of me, intrinsically…
Even when affecting me painfully or cripplingly,
Coping with a warped brain & disabled body,
Getting through each day makes me happy,
Another secret, to help you feel less crappy,
Concentrate on hexing Starmer (the Iffy),
His soundbites on isonomy prove his inanity,
He rules crappily, but has got inexpugnability,
Taking backhaners from the Oligarchy,
No one can deny his lies & criminality,
I pray for a political solution, philosophically,
We can do nothing legally curatively,
I’m only thinking this whimsically…
I’m hoping he dies painfully…
very slowly and in utter agony,
Tomorrow perhaps? Hopefully,
That’d make me overjoyedly happy!

TODAY’S COCK-UPS

I tell you now of my discontent,
Why is my life so abhorrent? 
Whoopsiedangleplops Accifauxpa torrent,
Unsolvable Problems & ailments,
The computer, now an inconvenience!
No help from anywhere,
Its memory is now bare,
Tonight, CorelDraw died,
My depression cannot be denied,
I managed to save some graphics & photos,
Got old ones, I’ll have to use those,
Struggling with this Odes prose,
Made an order by mistake on Amazon.
Tried to cancel it, reply waited on,
Already got my lowest ever bank balance,
Find a Solution? I haven’t had a chance!
Will it let me update this blog? I’m not yet sure,
All my problems, not one cure!
I feared being forced into an old folks’ home,
At this moment, I realise that I’d not be alone,
Financially, physically, and mentally sick!
In the morning, I woke up in a seizure,
And then came the morning Carer,
Of which there is little I can remember,
It may be the end of my blogging,
I don’t know yet if this blog will be saved,
But after all my work in creating…
If not, it’s going to be so gauling,
I’m hoping that CorelDraw will be loading,
Not confident, just hoping,
The wheelchair ordered is self-propelling,
The standard one, I got it four weeks ago,
But no Carer has taken out, though,
When I get paid for the self-propeller,
And get it inspected by a Carer,
I can get out and feel freer,
But what I do now fear,
By the time it’s checked & inspected,
I might be too old to use it, well dated!
Still no appointment made for the Audio Clinic,
No delivery of the Diabetic osenitic,
I’m feeling so depressed and sick!
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Up 05:55hrs. Urine was a 5 on the Richter scale. 

Views taken from the balcony
End car park.
Towards Mansfield Road
Towards the park
Left, front car park & flat balconies

Had a bit of a mini seizure that lasted seconds, I thought. That’s a guesstimate. After the seizure, a little out of it, I made a mug of Detox tea and tended to my ablutions. Then shelled some garden peas to nibble cold and add to the planned stew tonight.

To the intercom to let in Carer Ejaz. Who did a fair job for me this morning? Diabetic socks were put on.  
Medications were given.

I started to do the blog.
I noticed I’d not changed the date on the clock.
Got a mug of proper tea, and the peas to nibble. Seeing that I had still not changed the date on the clock. So, I did!

Started to update yesterday’s blog.
I got into it and felt the catheter bag drop; the urine pouch was full to the brim, and the weight of the bag tugged the tube in little Inchy. I believe I may just have used some naughty language.
Just look at the amount of urine that came out. The bag is a 200ml one, but the jug indicates it is 400ml. No wonder it felt down.

I got a call to say that an ambulance was on its way to see me. No idea why? 

Sister Jane rang me. It was hard work without the hearing aids. I’d been trying to book an appointment for 4 weeks with the Carers. But no joy. I moaned a little about things to her. And she moaned back about her problems. Hehehe! And told me off, of course.

The intercom chimed. The chap came in with an electric scooter. I thought at first it was a Red Cross man bribing it for me – what a clot! It was a Carer, Ahbul. I showed him the wheelchair on the balcony and moaned that no Carer had taken me out on it yet; in fact, it hadn’t been fully erected and checked for safety yet. The lad departed, and I’d been talking (I talk a lot nowadays, mainly to myself and my alter ego, Inchie) about the wheelchair. I went on the balcony and checked out the disabled machines.
The four-whelled walker.
The new wheelchair, unused to date. Fitted a cushion on it. Searched around with the aid of the impractical, worthless manual, which had such tiny printing that it was really of no value.
At least the cushion fitted. I found where the passenger brakes were and tried them. Crude tinny metal, but they worked.
Then had an in-depth, almost pointless perusal of the mwinenace/instruction manual. I think it might have been for the wrong model. As you can see in the photo I took, this is for a self-propelled model with large wheels.
This model has tiny wheels.
However, the thought of having a self-propelled one and the advantage of not needing an expensive Carer to push me means I perhaps could get to the Social Room in the other block of flats, Winwood Court, and have a chat with others. Maybe, perhaps, possibly. Or not. There’s bound ot be a difficulty in getting one on the NHS, but I felt one would benefit me.
So, I went to the Amazon site to investigate.
The prices ranged from £69 for a child. Up to £3,999 for a Sports Model. The ones that caught my eye were those with pad-cusions for the back of the legs, which was the first criterion I adopted. Many of them had a strap across the front of the frame. These pads claim to be better for people with diabetes. So, I went through all 44 pages of what I searched for: self-propelled wheelchairs with brakes at the front and back. (Leg pads in brackets)
Five at £184, one at £148. The £184 ones all looked the same model. The £148 did not have handbrakes for the pusher. This was the only difference that I could find. Then, I checked the comments about the £148. Not good. 2.5 rating overall. I was going to check the comments for the £184 one, but Carer Nizra arrived and I forgot all about checking. 

Then the mobile rang. The £35-a-bash toenail cutter was on its way up to me. 

When I got back on the computer, I found that I’d ordered the £148 wheelchair. Nobody told me… except Amazon, in an email. I went to Amazon to cancel the order. The message said, ‘We will try to cancel it, let you know, and advise you.

The gal got my nails cut, and we managed a little chat and a laugh.
Look at the time already!
A fantastic site, no, sight!

Off to the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence led the session, but not as dominantly this time.

When I got back in the front room, I was pretty ashamed of the mess in there.

I made up the meal for later on, one of my off-the-cuff stews, or whatever they should be called. Masses of garden peas, other vegetables, chopped some water chestnuts into it, and added Bovril. I had some bread left over that wasn’t too hard for dipping.

Turned off the computer and had only put on today’s cartoon. So far behind again.

CALAMIY, FEAR, MORE DEPRESSION DARIUS!
I couldn’t save the work I’d done in CorelDraw.
Not enough memory available!
I went to make a brew to help me think through my options available to rescue things.

Despite my morseness, I still took these snaps of the view from the kitchen window. Not even knowing if I can use them or not. Proof that I need help!
As if I didn’t know beforehand already!

The meal came out well.

I went to wash the pots, and yet again, possibly wasted my time taking this last snap.
Still, it’s worth it, a bit of nature.

Another day of Depression & Frustration,
Seizures, errors just never lessen,
This should teach me a lesson…
To get mental rest, do I need absolution?
Mistakes, lost words, or an anachronism…
Forgetfulness, confusion, an aphorism,
It’s months since my last cachinnation,
Life once livable is now a damnation,
Today I felt as if I was forsaken…
Of course, I could have been mistaken,
No help, hope, or satisfaction…
High Mood Horis was missing in action,
So many things, to curse or gurn in reaction,
I’m depressed, more than a fraction…
I find life & living, all a guesstimation!

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I REALLY HOPE I’LL BE BACK!
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Sorry, I’ve had so little time to get on the WP Reader & Comments. It’s been even busier than usual lately. And I’ve not started writing Saturday’s blog yet.