TUESDAY 25th AUGUST 2026
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06:35hrs: I stirred back into ersatz, pretend life. Wriggled and rolled a little to test out which ailments might be the most painful, in my effort to dismount the hospital bed and get my nocturnal Catheter pouch off. The outcome was rather less than expected. The new magic neck pain, the discomfort of the day Catheter tubing, and Anne Gyna were the only ones sensed.
Colin Cramps and a few seizure aftertastes, which had been waking me up so often overnight, had dissipated altogether. Nice!
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I managed to get up, sort the pouches out, and do a safety check of the flat for taps left running and fridge/freezer doors open. Then got the kettle on. Doing these little tasks, I had to make three visits to the Porcelain Throne in 15 minutes. Constipation Conrad in total charge.
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Carer Andy arrived in a perky but reluctant mood. Medications were issued, but we could not find any codeine tablets. We both searched through the medical prescription and Over-the-counter medicine drawers. Andrew said he had informed his head office about them. I got the waste bins into one large bag. It’s still there now (2040hrs).
Carer departed, and I had another dock-hard, Haemorrhoid-tearing visit to the Throne.
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I’d prefer to not mention them again, please. Thanks.
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The new Warfarin INR blood results came in the post; that was quick. New doses confirmed.
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Carer Mirza visited. Checked LV house content problem, and I called Complex Warden Deana and asked Mirza to talk with her about the lower cost of NCC insurance. Not sure what happened. Just had a seizure while writing this. Memory Mangling Malcolm? Mirza fitted a new Catheter on the right leg this time.
He then took the laundry down to the laundrette. Then he mopped the kitchen floor for me.
Then went down to put the clothes in the dryer. Did the safety checks and hoovered up. Checked the drawers to see if the missing Codeine tablets were there, but no.
Then he went down to collect the laundry.
While he was out, more food arrived, and I was having difficulty getting all the canned food on the top shelf of the double cupboard.
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At this point the self-cursing started, as Carer Mirza returned with the washing.
He cleaned up a 
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How did I take this photo with no camera?
Well, as soon as Mirza departed, Amazon delivered the camera. I can’t photograph it, but I’ll ask a Carer later to take one on his mobile and email it to me. Like any other childlike 81-year-old with a new toy, I decided to set up and use the new camera. As recommended by Carer Ejaz: “It would be a good idea to get the same model as before; otherwise you’ll get in a pickle with the new contraptions and workings of a different one” Very good suggestion, mate; a wise idea. Thanks!
So, after setting it up but entering the wrong date and not remembering how I set it in the first place, I gave up and got on with taking some sky-cloud shots.
Here is my first effort…
Then back to try and set a wider
view for the snaps.
I attempted to read the instructions…
Aha, I cracked it…
A smug mode developed.
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Well, me making this a great dollop come mound; this agglomeration, hodgepodge of a gigantic meal, is a perfect example of what can happen when something in my head tells me not to bother and to press on. Worrying.
It consisted of Mushroom pâté, chicken lumps, tomatoes, carrots, garden peas, soft cheese, curly fries, pork & pickle mini pies, cheese & onion bread, cooked beef, gherkins, and potatoes!
Needless to say, I could not eat it all, and must have binned two-thirds of it. I recall eating all of the mushroom pâté, the peas & carrots, the bread and the potatoes.
Then washed the dishes, etc., and moved on to an ice
cream cornet & lemon curd dessert?
Then put the TV on early to watch the Nottingham Forest match against Leeds Utd. (Sister Jane called to remind me it was on ITV). I stayed awake up to half-time, and the adverts came on. Zzz! Waking up in a seizure a couple of hours later, still TV on and the volume louder… Sorry, neighbours. I think going into a home might help me; I’m not coping well.
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Category: Winwood Heights
Inchie Today: Monday, 24th August 2026
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I got out of bed and guessed at the colour of the product inside. Read the amount on the pouch label chart: a good dollop again. 1600ml. I’d had a lot of cramps overnight. Fingers, hands, and lower legs. Still alright now.
Emptied the pouch, bagged it in the yellow bin, cleaned 
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The usual, but extended, session of cursing, swearing, and self-lambasting had its moments. I put the last of the bruise-ease ointment on the ribs.
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Carer arrived. Put some more cream on the chest. Issued the medications. Phorpained gel to both shoulders (the arthritis is spreading over to the left one now) and the oddly painful neck. The Doctor said it was arthritis, but I find the pain very different to the ankles, shoulders, back and knees affected. Sharper, and hurts when touched. Could it be something else? The gel has no relieving effect at all, and it stings when applied.
Not that it is too bad yet. Then I disturbed him on his mobile, asking him to make a mug of tea. He said, you didn’t ask! I said I just did. You know how we English love our tea and get bothered when we get a mug of light brown, unbrewed tea with a gallon of milk in it? Haha! I reminded him not to put too much milk in and to let it brew properly this time. Well, he made a darn good brew for me this morning, bless him.
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It opened alright, but was I brave enough to open CorelDraw? Not at first, and it was gone by midday, with all the kerfuffling I’d done. Hours later, after using MS Word, WordPress, and Notepad’s word lists to make the Ode of the day, I needed to Doctor a graphic and put a photo in the Ode header. I was on a late-in-the-day roll now, and without thinking of what happened earlier, I opened CorelDraw. Dang, dang dang Dang! I realised what I’d done, and got ready for the Blue Screen of Death to appear! Positive that it would show up!
As of this moment in time (13:20hrs), I’ve not had a moment’s bother from CorelDraw! I’ll hold back from going into a Smug-Mode for now, though.
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Carer Andrew came. Carer Andrew left.
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I went to make a mug of tea, and Carer Mirza arrived. I was so glad to see him again; I’d almost forgotten what he looked like. (Sarcasm for them not sending him to serve me for so long) Not his fault. A Caring lad.
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Dropped the Kodak 1 camera. Now not working, broken, no longer usable! Heartbroken… again!
I decided to buy another one, which means using Amazon. I’m nervous about this. The number of times they have left parcels down in the main lobby, and someone has nicked them, puts fear in me. Cause I can’t get through to tell them. Complaints: click here. The list of options you can select from is not what you want, so you pick “My parcel has not been delivered. Then they show you a photo of it as it was delivered to the correct address. A snap of the parcel outside what was supposed to be my flat doorway, which had a different flat number on it. “
It took Carer Ejaz three weeks to get an acknowledgement, and a month to get me money back.
Now, I think, did I order it properly? Did I order the right one? I’ll check the site out later.
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The blood-taker arrived to take some haemoglobin for testing my Warfarin INR level.
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Deleted some things I put in Monday’s blog. It was pointed out that it was risky prosecution-wise.
I reckon I’m doing risky things when I’m in a deep depression. Or could it be the TBI and/or dementia being a part of it? Laura told me afterwards, after the assessment, that I struggled with many parts much worse than on the last assessment.
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ACCIFAUXPAS
I got into the wet room to find I’d left the hot tap running, yet again. Needless to say, but I will: 
I realised I’d not boosted the British Gas meter.
WOT-A-PLONKER! So, B.O. alert put in place. Hehe
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Inchie Today: Saturday, 22nd August 2025 – With Memory Photos
Another chronically wasted day. No shower, no laundry done, no reply yet from email ot the Carer Company about the financial situation, and on top of that, I was all over the place, losing things, deleting things, making errors galore; and all with a confused outlook. Sorry about the little moan again, but that’s how it went.
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I deleted the photographs taken on the camera after downloading them to the computer. Then later, deleted them from the file, thinking I had already put them on the blog. I shan’t tell you of how angry I got! Especially when I broke and dropped and shattered the glass biscuit barrel. The language I came out with surprised even me. Boy, did I get Angina after this. It is likely that I lost, misplaced, or couldn’t find umpteen things: dates, letters, my mobile phone, the TV remote control, even the walking stick once! Losing patience with me, I got me so wound up.
So, a sad block. Or even blog!
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Afternoon skies.
Got me on my feet. (A tumble)
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In the evening, still not having made a start on this blog, I tried to calm down and make a concerted effort to begin working on Friday’s blog. Got the computer on. I just kept switching things off, back on and crossing my fingers.
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Dad & Brother Pete
Railway Houses, two up, two down
Brookfield Place, the Meadows
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Inchie: Friday Aug 21st: Nut Hospital Visit Two
NUTHALL HOSPITAL MEMORY TEST
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Just getting ready made me unsteady,
Getting washed, shaved & dressed,
My body ended up well battered,
The Carer arrival was estimated,
I got the time wrong; self-aggravated,
The plans became a little affected,
Called Ejaz; said he was on his way…
Worried about taxis, & what I’ll need to pay,
Intercom rang, t’was district nurses…
To check on my Catheter contraptions,
Ejaz arrived a minute later, messy,
They’ll return next week, Thursday,
Ejaz got me ready quickly, urgently…
Checked my money, rang for a taxi,
I again forgot to take the Kodak with me,
The taxi, going £18, derision…
Got to pay, there’s no tergiversation,
Coming back it was over £20, derision!
Fear of the test? Will it go badly,
It will be what it will be, surely,
I explained my problems, auditory,
Waiting for cataract lasering, visual,
Cognitive tests, MoCA, or ACE-III,
They already knew my history,
Hope my score doesn’t go too badly,
Figures needed to be added, subtracted,
Remembered, substituted, and divided,
The reading of a little convoluted story,
Recalling detail did not go marvellously,
Naming objects, one I think I failed on,
I muttered ice, Iceland, they waddle…
Beautiful things, they’re so adorable,
Felt a fool when she said it was a penguin,
The bird, I could not name, embarrassing,
Put in order? My efforts were anachronical,
Questions about time, place, & date…
Think some of my answers found comical,
Well, I’ve got other worries on my plate…
Why did I find this section problematical?
Ah, that’ll be another glitch, arithmetical,
Seems my result was much lower: disjoinable,
Than when I was last tested at Nuthall,
But I was not at all discontentful,
Results, assessed by a geriatrician,
Or Community Service Neurologist,
Then another visit to Nuthall,
But I’m not bothered at all,
Scared of BG, TSB; all Oligarchal,
I’m aware I’ve lost my sparkle…
My brain’s enthused with flapdoodle,
Well known for temporising,
Failing, falling, inturbidating,
Dithering and hypothesising,
Gluttonising, and aborting,
And need my life sorting!
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Inchie: Tuesday 18th Aug 2026
AN IOTA OF HUMOUR
Jumped out of bed and thumped my chest.
Did some press-ups, 200 at least…
Back somersaults, a hundred squats,
To the balcony, for an hour’s hopscotch.
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Tue 18th Aug 2026
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To-dos for tomorrow. Tomorrow… the worst day of the year. Not sure if there will be a blog. Embarrassed!
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Inchie: Monday’s Bank-Begging Report. I lost
Reminded of when the UK got far too much rain.
Not now though, sad innit.
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MONDAY 15th AUGUST 2026
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THE BANK FARCE – Truncated
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I did not cope well. I am not coping well.
Lousy, Wank… no Bank meeting; not fully understood.
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With the L9 and Community Easy Link bus company closing down, taxis were my only option. The Carer Company had not confirmed if a Carer I cannot afford was coming with me. Phoned them. Yes.
Caught the bus in the City Centre with Carer Ejaz; we were going to catch the Clifton bus to avoid taxi fares. He said he’d found a TSB Bank in Victoria Centre on Google Maps. So we searched for the bank in Victoria Centre. I asked a Victoria staff member; it was at the far end of the complex. I walked to it, found it, and discovered it was seating and advertising. No bank. By then it was too late to catch a bus, so we went out and caught a taxi. The £18.50 outward trip ended with me hitting my head on the roof and all but falling off as I got out. Ejaz saved me. Bless him!
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Paid the fare, walked over to the TSB bank, and to the end sign-in table. I was glared at and looked down on by the young gentleman sitting there. No smile, a distinctly snotty talking style, and instant hatred brewed.
After 10 minutes, he said; We’ll have to put you in a room for further questioning. He waved from the counter with his left hand as he commanded we take a seat. As we turned, I saw ‘Orange.’ I turned back and asked him, “Were you trying to scare me then? Threatening me just then? It didn’t work. Do you want me to show you how to scare someone?” It’ll be my pleasure! No response.
A young snotbag came to take me in for our “Interview”; she instantly reminded me of pictures of Eva Braun.
After endless questioning, I was getting more and more
confused as to why they did not want, indeed, refused to transfer the money I wanted from one account to my other. Constantly calling a Führer higher up in the bank’s oligarchic ranks. We need positive ID to go any further. You only have a bus pass, not good enough.
They allowed me less than the minimum I needed.
I got less than a 1/3rd. And the trip home cost even more, £ 19 or £20-something. Did I mind? Better not say. Especially now (Tuesday), when WP informed us of a (mysterious) spike in viewing numbers.
The Police? The Bank? Fraud Squad?
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We got back. We had to cut things a smidge short, cause Ejaz had to get to his next client. Same as at the Hospital, and that is on for next Friday again. (I think) And it will not we £6 both ways like last week, more like £44 both ways; now the EasyLink disabled people’s bus service has been closed down. We were children; now 80-year-olds are losing out all the way. Cheap transport gone. Going into the City or QMC NHS hospitals is a nightmare. So scary, as the staff have had enough. Especially in the A&E and Geriatric wards.
Lost track again there, Tsk!
Ejaz got me back to the flat and had to rush off.
I couldn’t find the note with the details Eva Braun provided at the Oligarchic Bank on how to access the TSB site. I’ll have a good search around in the morning.
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Despite the pains and particularly the one from my head-butting it and my knee on the ledge getting out of the taxi, and the cost of it all and having now less than £1000 in my account, and not knowing or even being able to know, how to check to see if the pittance they granted to move for me… An unexpected, unreasoned small visit 
Until I realised that I’d put far too much curry powder in the poor imitation curry I’d made. So another might of eating crisps followed by ice cream!
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It is now 2000hrs, on Tuesday. A very busy day again.
Here are the snaps I took
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That’s all there is. Tsk!
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Inchie Today Sunday16th August 2026
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I was a shadow of myself. Gloomy, depressed, and frustrated. I knew I had to get up; it was still early in the day, and I was sure I would have to get up soon to visit the 
I confirmed the reading on the bag, and the rear-end evacuation was coming on, so I hobbled to the wet room. It was a mass of long-winded farts for about two or three minutes. Constipation in control again, and just like the last two mornings, a good few splurts from Trotsky Terence as follow-up. Then a comical, the perfect word for it, too!
Not at the time, but later, I saw the humorous side of it. I seem to get these funny things happening to me at any time, but mostly within ten minutes of getting up?
It wasn’t me having them; I think I might doubt the veracity of my own writing.
Popeye had his spinach, Schwarzenegger had his muscles, Elvis had his hips, Hitler had Europe, for a short while. What do I get? Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas, PN, Angina, Cataracts, a TBI, Scary Carers, a wank Bank (TSB) that will not let me move my own money around and talks down to me on the phone. Duodenal Ulcer, got shot twice, had a stroke, went partially deaf at 40 years old, Carers who do not turn up but I still get charged full whack, and seem determined not to communicate with me. They are very good at that. Arthritis, Cramps, and depression, like… well, very deep lately. But this has been written wittily to try and bring some smiles around.
Cause really, I’d be lost without the greatest supporter, Jenny. She is not very well at the moment. I try not to ring or email her while she is so poorly. My Angel, she is.
So I must tell you the tale; that is true. I am not moaning. Flipping heck, I’ve not said about the tumble in the toilet yet. So here it is, every aspect, honestly spoken… Well, written. Hehehe!
Please wish Jenny the best. 🤞🏻💗🫶🏻
I’d just cleaned up after the evacuation and flushed the loo. Decided to have a wash & shave. I reached for the toothpaste, and as I did, my famous right side wobbled- shoulder, leg and foot – and this time it had me over. I leant towards the porcelain to grab the WC, missed it, and my shaking right arm went in the WC’s water up to its 
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BP was high. Carer looked at my chin, said nothing, and did nothing about it. Carer Prem washed it and put some ointment on it and a plaster. Phorpained my shoulder, back, Coccyx, and privates. He made three visits today. A nice, non-pushy Carer who listens.
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I’ve got no idea if a lift has been arranged, and with the L9 bus and the Easy-Lift buses both stopping work, I’ll have to go by taxi. That is, if a Carer turns up to go with me. The bank insists that I take a Carer; if one doesn’t turn up, I’m in a mess. If one does turn up, the taxi fare will break me. And will so please the bank. It’s the aforementioned lack of communication that gets to me most. Now I’m a bag of nerves. Can’t get dressed on my own. Or the walker, sort the timings out, ordering taxis, Humph!
The kitchen really needs cleaning. The Catheter bag has not been changed for over a month. I need to phone the Post Office; I had an email saying they are delivering my parcel tomorrow! Can I stop them in time?
Lots more happened today, but I’m going to have to stop. I’ve got to phone British Gas about their non-arrival! Call the Social Lady about the money situation. I am a nervous wreck. Ball of anxiety. Frazzled, Anxious, jittery, edgy, tensed up, a worrywart, a hand-wringer, a basket case, disconcerted, emotional cripple, fretful, overwrought, distraught, self-conscious, in a discountenanced, in a dither, distracted, a neurotic, a fussbudget.
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LATE NIGHT NOSH
Inchy Today: Saturday 15th August 2026
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SATURDAY 15th AUGUST 2026
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I WOKE WITH THE MISERY OF YESTERDAY
STILL RAMBLING THROUGH MY MIND.
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04:45: I stirred. Mused, remembered, moaned, complained, self-lambasted, and decided all was lost; thus, I accepted the hopeless situation.
Nowt can be done, thanks to my haughtily non-communicative inept, antisocial, oligarchal, customer-hating, vilifying, snotty, TSB Bank’s refusal to transfer my own money from one account to another. And the consequences of this unfair, typical bank-like decision.
I also pondered whether I should demand all my money on Monday and put it in another bank or building society. After trying to convince the snotty, superior-sounding, bad decision-making, uncaring, customer-hating customer service staff… I stopped myself from daydreaming. Maybe I was a little bête noire in my thoughts and apprehension of the problem?
Should I go in on Monday with the expensive Carer, by costly taxi, to speak with them; Put on a smile, and act super-pleasant with them?
Even have a wash before I go? Practice in the mirror how to put on a smile without showing the five-tooth gap at the front of my mouth? Try to charm them into giving me my own money? I’ve put my truncheon in the three-wheeled walker, just in case.
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Off to the WC, an appalling session this one was. About six chunky, hard, thick, separate greenish-coloured chunks were evacuated, immediately followed by a long, semi-liquid flow of what looked like Chilli con Carne, which was the same colour as Chilli.
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I started working on the blog, finishing and new template, and the Carer arrived. Ejaz: 1 call; Mirza: 0 this week. It was Carer (no listening because I’m on my phone), Edward. On his usual form. Left medication where he used it, not back on the medication table. I asked him to return the pill pot from the computer desk. Other Carers had to search to find them. Then, when he’d shot off, I found the barrier cream in the same place. Times & Carers like this make me lean toward finishing with help altogether. However, it would be risky. But the value of Mizra & Ejaz is much-needed and irreplaceable, as is my money – I’m simply spending a lot more than I have coming in. I heard not a word from the financial institution that the Social Lady signed me up for. I think I know why. She explained that they would aim to make sure I have money over the total of the bills and would give me cash to spend. That total means I have to go out and mug someone or rob a bank to get my cash.
There’s a thought… a TSB bank maybe?
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Inchie: Thu/Fri 13th/14th August 2026
THURSDAY 13th AUGUST 2O26
NOT VERY GOOD TODAY
Mentally struggling, and my Coccyx is bleeding.
Bit of a curt, catching-up job, Friday AM. Sorry.
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Sliced potatoes, Tiriyani’s,
Some sweet fish sticks,
Topless Pork Pies,
With on-top pickles.
In the morning I got the s_ _ts,
One giant torpedo, concretish!
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FRIDAY 14th AUGUST
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The most frustrating one for years!
Although it started with actual hope in my heart.
I am in low spirits. So another below-grade, humourless blog is in the offing. I’ll do my best. Doom & Gloom!
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0650: I woke and got the night Catheter bag removed; I actually felt a smidge perky. (Hahahaha! I didn’t know what was coming then!)
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I waddled off to the wet room to get a wash, shave, clean the teggies and, as seems to be the pattern lately, a session on the Porcelain Throne first. It took me even longer than yesterday. The thick, broad, single green-looking torpedo edged its way out. But it took a lot of pain and effort on my part to encourage it.
I imagine it must have been a full ten minutes before it fell into the water below. Oddly enough, the Coccyx was bleeding but not the haemorrhoids.
I set about getting the teeth cleaned. A simple task, you’d think? Not for Inchie, oh, no. I dropped the toothbrush, which hit the edge of the sink and dived almost gracefully into the centre of the WC bowl. I recovered it and left it soaking in a basin to sterilise it. I used an old one and carried on. The old brush was a lot harder than the new one. I was spitting out blood all the time while cleaning the teeth. To my surprise, I’d broken more bits of off a few teeth again. The gap in the top row is so much wider; the top of a water bottle stuck itself between the two teggies left at the front of the mouth later in the day. The lower two teeth around that gap was so loose I think I’ll lose one of them in the day. (I didn’t, though, yet)
I washed, then shaved with only one teeny-weeny cut,
I washed, dried, and applied Barrier cream to each area in need that I could find. Privates, belly-fold ones at the front, and under my man-breasts. On the last tube now, but I think Carer Mirza has ordered some.
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I got some potatoes in the crock-pot. The uninterested Carer arrived while I was finishing off and asked me to pass him a protection pad. No offer of any help in getting them on. He put the Barrier cream on but missed the Coccyx; no blood this morning. I had to remind him as he got on his mobile again. I took just one Oxycodone painkiller. Then put the Barrier cream he’d left near the computer and the skin cleanser he’d left where he was sitting, in my 1963-built, falling-to-pieces Hopewell’s E-Plan Sideboard, with the doors falling off. I asked him to order some night Catheter bags on his next visit.
No answer. He didn’t, of course.
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Today the toe-cutting lady is arriving in the afternoon. So I got out the £35, ready to pay her. I sorted a drawer out and made a tentative start on the daily doggerel.
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Thank heavens it was Ejaz who came to do the long call.
Ejaz did a body check and told me the Coccyx was clear of blood. Issued the medication. We spoke of the British Gas problem, and he asked how Jenny was.
He decided to call the bank early on. To transfer money from my savings account into my current account.
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THIS TURNED OUT TO BE A FARCE!
I) First call: The usual AI voice: “We are very busy, please be patient…” with some piffle added and repeated over the ten minutes we waited.
2) Then the inquisition started. I was expecting them to ask how many spots I’ve got on my bum! Ejaz kept cool, and persisted and was eventually put through to someone else. A full-of-himself, smarmy-speaking snotbag answered the call. Ejaz was repeating what the lady had asked earlier. The line went dead!
Ejaz kept his composure and rang back again.
Me? I was all churned up inside, Livid, shaking, and I thought I had a short seizure while Ejaz waited for the call to be answered. The acid taste pulled me out-of-it. I was not in a good place.
3) Ejaz went through the ID checks again. The poor lad was near the end of his visit time. He persisted. That lady spoke with me and asked if anyone could vouch for me. That got to me deeply, because I hadn’t!
The lady then transferred the call to someone else.
4) Another long wait to get through; AI messages got to Ejaz a bit. The whole incident had done me in.
5) The snotty-voiced one came on again. I’m looking forward to seeing him when we go to the bank on Monday. Ejaz was getting worried about the time.
I was handed the phone and asked him why he was refusing to move my own money between my own bank accounts. Security: cannot and will not do it unless you tell me why and call the bank. No appointment needed, just turn up, can’t you? That got me over the edge.
Why? Because I have to have Carers, and they cost me about £485 a week. So, £1700+ a month. My pensions are well short of that figure. That is why my bank account has suddenly gone from £18,000 to £3,000 since having the Carers… he just repeated his refusal and demand that I call the bank. “Me: Taxis will cost me £60, Carer will cost me a fortune, so I could run out of money for minor things like paying my rent, buying food, paying the dentist, optician, audio, Internet, Virgin, rates, Norton, Grammarly, window cleaners, toenail-cutter, or even the taxis that I’ve been told to use when the Catheter blocks to the hospital, & cost of the Carers rescort duties, and the £760 montly bill the them. But I don’t suppose you could give a toss!”
I got no response, of course.
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During the losing battle against the oligarchic, uncaring TSB Bank, which took so much longer to lose than I expected.
Here was Ejaz and me; me being naked but for the protection nappy and the Catheter Contraption, and in came the toenail cutter gal. So, in the middle of Ejaz being cut off on the phone by the objectionable antisocial and gerontophobic scum at the TSB Bank. Another person gets my banking details. Every Carer has them, the Warden has them, the NNC Social has them. And the repugnant TSB still won’t let me have my own money! ?!&🏴☠️#ers!
I could write a book! A biography, and give it the title of ‘Embarrassing Moments’.
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Inchie: Tuesday 11th August 2025
Ode Of Thoughts
Tuesday 11th August 2026
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Alright, I’ll start again, then…
I stirred, coughed, and the pains from my bruised coccyx forced out a little argh under my breath. Bent down to take off the night Catheter bag, and Dizzy Dennis and Arthure Itis joined in the assault. I decided a wash, teggie cleaning and shave was needed. As I hobbled to the wet room, the knees and long, toenail-nailed toes, which had curled under the toe and caught on the carpet, produced some bad language from me. Shaking-Shoulder-Shirlely kicked off, and Lost Balance Belinda almost had me over as I went into the wet room, nearly dropping my three-pronged walking stick. Preparing the shaving tackle, I was laughing off the pain, and an evacuation from the rear-end started of its own accord; this proved to be one 
I’d got the lather on, and blow-me-down, another evacuation started! Yet it was a rock-Hard torpedo job.
Three different performances. Hehehe!
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Iceland order arrived.
Afternoon, Carer Ejaz came. We caught the bus down to Mansfield Road, and it was agony! Each time the bus went around a corner or hit the rocks and cracks on the road, I had to lift myself up quickly to avoid pressurising the bruised coccyx, which brought on the arthritis in both knees! I’m rushing now, leaving a lot of stuff out, because it is so late; the last caller just arrived. You’ll understand, maybe, when I write with a fresher outlook to finish this blog. Sorry.
We walked to the ATM, and Ejaz helped by watching me to make sure I didn’t cock it up and lose my card (this has happened several times). Called at the Continental Foods Store; I’d have written the name, but I forgot what it was, but remembered what it was in the morning… well, afternoon. Ozen.
I forgot to take the Kodak Tim 2 with me, Grrr!
Ejaz got the last six bottles of Carter’s Soda Water and lemon wafers. Well, here’s a photo of the food I took later after getting home. Making a mess of this; I can’t spend much time (Wednesday), and I’ve got to get dressed and prepped for the trip to the hospital.
We got to the bus stop; Ejaz was worried about being late and overstaying his visit, and I felt guilty for not understanding what he told me earlier, letting him down, and I paid the price.
We’d just missed the bus. I felt terrible. Ejaz was getting annoyed and said we’d have to walk back up to the flats; I’m already late for my next client. I had to keep stopping repeatedly, for Anne Gyna was giving me Hell and breathing was so painful. Not to mention the back, the knees, the poor toes (had to wear slippers), and I got the dizzies a couple of times.
Got back to the flat, asked Ejaz to leave the bags on the bed. He gave me a painkiller. Off he went. No high fives.
Minutes later, the door chime went; it was Ejaz coming back. I let him in, and went back to the room, and saw he’d left his headphone thingamajig. I took it to the door and handed it to him. Swapped high fives.
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He’s so Caring & attentive, as is Mirza.
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I worked on this blog until Carer Prem came.
Hopefully his calling back about his music phone thingy was a good sign, and he’ll forgive me.
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Making a meal now; I hope to take a snap and find a way to add it to this blog. It took me hours to find the photo of the day’s meal. I’d taken it without the SD card in the camera. A regular failing of mine, mind you. Hehehe!
The blue cheese I purchased at the Continental Store was most disappointing. It cost me £4 for 120g. I expected it to taste like Roquefort cheese. A great, weak-flavoured cheese this was. The foreign name on it was- I’ll get the pack out of the bin… Gorrit! It reads: Turkish – Detected: ‘Yörem, Kars Küflü peynir.’ I put this into Google’s translator; it gave me “Yörem, Kars Mouldy Cheese”. That was a surprise. But not such a big one was how tasteless it was. Humph! £4 worth!
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TTFNski Each
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