I’d have loved to have written my verse cleverly… Be intelligent, superior, educated, and academically! Blend words in rhyme that folk view as appreciatory, But Doreen’s Dementia makes me do it clumsily… Not that the comments sound exactly derogatory… My viewers’ total is abysmal, or worse, evidently,
I try not to write this blog grouchily… Make it fun, folks, to read it happily… I may, at times, add things that sound grumpy, That’ll be of Doreen and Peripheral Neuropathy, Though sometimes, to me, the reality is illusory… And I’ve never ever won the lottery!
Like now, my plots and thoughts have gone hazy? This can happen for days at a time, not momentarily, Semi-logic can return, within a few days, ordinarily, But of course, please remember this is not obligatory, During my brain’s down-times, there’s still diversity… Trying to control it brings much lachrymosity!
I often dream of acquiring omnipotency… Of course, I can’t, so carry in my impecuniosity… It’s not just money & wealth, of which I have a scarcity! But also suasion, wisdom, rationality, logicality… Folks tell me, I have endless inconsequentiality? I think this is similar to insignificance or banality? No doubt, I need help mentally… and exigently!
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TUESDAY MORNING
04:35: Rose for a wee-wee. Kettle on, sorted waste bags. Had a rinse, got partly dressed, and got the kettle on.
Getting dressed, I thought it looked like the right leg’s foot was darker than the left leg? But mustn’t complain, cause the rest of the leg and ankle looked far better than yesterday!
Took off the pad from yesterday’s INR Warfarin blood test and could not help bus picture my beautiful, precious, and pretty beloved Haematology nurse Hristina in my mind! ♥
Sphygmomanometerisationing was done next. The SYS was up 26 points to 140, DIA up by 2 to 63, and the Pulse had fallen somewhat to 77. Checked on the NHS site; The Ideal is between 60 and 100 beats per minute (bpm). That means it must have been high spot on, indeed perfect, for several weeks. The body temperature was well down again, low for several days; according to the NHS, 35°c is the optimum?
I got on the computer, and my brain froze. What I was doing, I had no idea, really. This has happened now and then since the stroke. It can often last for a few hours, like waking up, but with no memory of the period of blankness. I named them Mind-Blanks. Then you worry about what you’ve been getting up to! It only lasted about an hour or so, I think. It seemed that I had started another blog template and been working on the wrong one. I really got annoyed when I discovered this! I swore at myself, and I wanted to give up!
Richard the Carer arrived, and it helped pull me around. Not that I wasn’t still a little miffed ant the Mind-Blank happening. Even though it hasn’t happened for a week or two. I think? Rich’ got the Alert Alarm battery checked and gave me my medications. As we had a much-missed chinwagging session, I went to put the mini-hoover back on its charger and…
As I was bent down to reach the socket, Neuropathy Pete instructed his neurotransmitters to give me a flailing leg dance! I dropped the mini-hoover (I hope I’ve not broken anything), and I clung dearly to the electric shelf. It was all over within a few minutes, and no rumblings or injuries. That was due to Carer Richard’s quick response in getting to me in time. I’m pretty sure (although it was a short affair, it was brutal while it lasted) that it would have had me over had I been on my own.
Two cameras, a remote, and the SDH card reader have given up on me in the last few days. Mind-Blanks, Leg Dances, Dizzies, Falls and tumbles are getting more frequent. Doreen’s Dementia, Cataracts Kathleen, and Glaucoma Gladys have all been having a go at me! Best if I say no more on the subject, methinks!
Took this snap of the rain, made a brew, and pressed on, trying to get the mess I’d made on WordPress understood and corrected; it was hard work that needed concentration. But, it went well for about two hours, progress-wise, and then Esther came bundling in to get the laundry. That shot my attention to pieces.
I began to make progress again. Esther returned with the laundry. Boy, can she talk? Hehe! Unfortunately, she does it when walking away from me and in the other room. Not the foggiest of what she’s saying half the time.
Well, I’ve got to get a rest. I’ll make some canned tomatoes and soya and use the old bread. After that, I can envisage myself just falling asleep until the evening carer wakes me up… there are about four hours in which I can make, eat the meal and some precious sleep… if that is possible.
Extra-chopped tomatoes with pieces of soya. And some slices of milk roll bread… well, half the loaf! Gobbled it up at my leisure slowly and enjoyed it. The Flavour rating for this one was 7.5/10! Washed the pots and was soon in the land of nod. Dream filled, though. No details are recalled, yet I still know that I had dreams?
An hour or so later, Evening Care Valerie arrived, and the shock of the chime bursting out and waking me shook me a bit… at first, I thought I was still in my dream. Hehehe! As I stirred and Valerie came, I realised that although I had got my jammie bottoms on, I was topless this time. Still, she didn’t mind my bulbous, adipose, abdominous, podgy paunch that bounced around in front of me when I stood up. Humph! Val got me sorted out, and I handed her some nibbles in thanks, and off she trotted, kindly taking the waste bag from the door with her for me.
I considered staying up to get on with this blog, but with all the cock-ups and mistakes I’d made earlier in the day, I decided to get back down in the c1968 second-hand recliner and get back to whatever the dream was about. And I did!
Ten minutes later, ♫Oh, Susana♫ rang from the door chime again. I whipped a jacket on quickly and went to open the door – It was Valerie back again.
She had gone back to the Meridian Office and found a letter from the DVT Anticoagulation Clinic changing the Warfarin dosages. Bless her, she realised she’d just given me the wrong dosage earlier and returned to give me more to agree with the new dosage roster. This should have been provided by whoever was in charge (surely?) to the night carer? But it had been left on the desk. Fortunately, the new dosages had increased, and Valerie gave me the extra tablet to put things right for me.
The thought was that had Val not found this new rota or the doses had gone down, not up, it would have been too late, and it meant I could be in a pickle medically if I had a bleed and an increased risk of a heart attack, blood-clot, and or stroke. Methinks Meridian, who has just put their prices up, has made a mistake. Be interesting to see if I get an apology this time. Valerie saved the day, anyway!
EMBARRASSMENT! As I was taking the Warfarin tablet, it dawned on me – I did not have my jammie bottoms on! I red-facedly thanked Val, and she shot off, Bless her cotton socks!
Vascular Dementia Doreen really got me yesterday. I got in a pickle trying to sort out whether or not I’d post these, or not. At the same time, I was trying to get the obstreperous Card Reader to accept newer photos… a delivery came.
While putting the food away, another delivery arrived. I was struggling to keep it together cause I was sure the Iceland delivery was for Friday, not Monday… No doubt my fault, error yet again, which doesn’t help my confidence one iota!
The kitchen was like Steptoe & Son’s was on the telly. Food was all around to be collated. Next, the INR Nurse arrived…
Not that I had any problems with the compassionate, beautiful, sweet-natured Hristina coming to deal with me. In fact, it was the only, I think, in the whole day that I was free of depression and frustrations – Gawd, I love her! (Also Jillie, Obergruppenfürheress Warden Deana, Carers Julie, Cheeky Charley, Sarah, Elena… Ah, so many!) Hristina always lifts me in spirit.
Leg check.
Herbert was not so bad during today, although there were a few mechanical concertos and some clangy Abbellimenti.
I’d ordered some Cathedral City cheese, red onion and focaccia baps on special offer… sorry I bothered now!
Luckily, the mushroom pate tasted great, and I filled both baps up with it! New potatoes, yellow and red halved tomatoes, and some ready roasted crispy onion bits (which went down well!). A pot of jelly & custard to round it off. I didn’t eat all of the focaccia baps, but I removed and ate all of the pates.
Took the things through to wash them up and copped for an Involuntary right leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance… The tray went to the floor, which is better than my doing so.
Crap! I spent around an hour cleaning things up. I had no choice but to keep bending down cause the small onions and breadcrumbs I couldn’t see and the picker-upper was no use. Getting back up on my feet took a while in itself. Then getting the mop and bucket out of the wet room and mopped the floor. Let it dry first, took the equipment to the throne room, then went back in and cleaned the pots, tray etc., and then myself.
The evening carer arrived. Dour is how I felt cause the backache had been brought on by all the bending. Medications taken. I took an extra Codeine after the Carer left with the waste bags. I only take extra if needed, but it was that night.
Took a late evening sunrise shot. No you fool! Sunset.
Got into the £300 second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, crumb-covered tatty recliner. I reckon that I must have dropped off for a few moments, then shot awake again, at least 20 times!
Gone midnight, I put the TV on, hoping it would help me sleep deeper. It sometimes does… but no. The rest of the night’s sleep was interrupted so many times!
Ah, the future of mankind, or an individual punter… I’m not bothered about myself neverthemore… My only claim for fame is being an ambidexter! What prospects are there for the uneducated poor? They can’t get a job as lamplighter… They’ve even closed HMP Dartmoor? Today’s youth will become even boozier,
Price rises will stir more violence and rancour, The future for proletariat ankle snappers is unsure, Innocents will be scared to leave their own front door, Putin, of course, can make a life but a blur… The Government’ll be worried about expenditure… It won’t matter if you’re an unclever, underachiever, In the shelter under No.10, they can still party and decanter?
Hospitals, police gone, what the hell can the poor sods do? How many have died could be Boris’s main issue… But it won’t be, I can assure you, The Stock Market they’ll review, Sell, sell, sell, or whatever they do… Claiming insurance on MPs destroyed homes, too… Scared stiff MPs… what will the stock market do?
Weapon selling will get very little revenue… Gunrunners flooded the market; it’s all ambrew! In nuclear fall-out, we’ll all be sodden through, Fear not of no toilet paper; worry about no loo! In need of help? There’ll be no one to go to… But no need to fret; I’m not trying to scare you… Bur, what if there is no nuclear pas-de-deux? Oh… I’ve just got a papercut in my pirclicue…
If Putin takes war off of the Moscow maniac’s to-do list… The proletariats could go back to getting pissed… Cause it’d be better not to die and go see a traumatologist, Train for a job in music? What about as a bassoonist? Or join a drug gang, and you could become the rowdiest? If you get caught, tell the Police all, get it off yer chest! Best spend drug money made on a barrister, honest!
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Sunday, 22nd May 2022
05:454hrs: I woke up and passed the wind. Then I thought about having a wee-wee, but the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived suddenly. I had to gather my thoughts on getting out of the recliner and getting the balance exercises done in time to get to the wet room.
Which I managed without skipping any of the sequences of moves. Damned good session for once.
Then, I needed an extra weewee after the main event was over. Oh, dear, I rushed about to get back in and went a little heavy-handedly on getting to Little Inchie, and I started off the Fungal Lesion bleeding. I cleared and washed things after the leak and had the job of applying the ointment. All I can say is,
I was sorting out waste bags and making a brew when Valerie arrived. After she gave me the medications and went through some questions.
Instant panic overcame me: “Had I left the hot water tap running?” The short answer is ‘YES, I had!
Not only that, in my lunge at the faucet to turn it off, I knocked the cold mug of tea over… one would have expected it to go into the sink… but, oh, no… This is me we are talking about, remember. The luckiest man in Nottingham. The mug bounced in the tap flow onto the edge of the sink, pouring the contents left in it down the front of my pyjamas; I had to clean the cupboard door, sink, floor and my rotund body with cold water! Luckily I now have an ever-increasing mass of flesh all around my midriff, which I pushed up against the sink to stop the mug from falling further – Which meant my protection pants and jammies got the worst water!
Despite my lousy language and wailing, Carer Valerie was oblivious to what had happened. After cleaning things up, she came into the kitchen (She’s not daft!) Off she trotted, taking the waste bag with her for me.
The tap water is now running cold, and it will do so until the heating comes back early tonight! No shaving or owt until then. Humph! I do hate myself at times! Doreen Dementia does it. If ever I get interrupted doing anything, there is always a high risk of a Faux pas, and I forget what the other thing I was doing was… Grunglenagwaggles! I think?
I double-checked the taps, lights, etc., and got the potatoes into the crockpot. There was another Throne visit and two more weewees, and I started prepping things for Josie’s meal.
I got the pork out and added it to the bowl with the sliced onions, mushrooms and leeks. And spotted some string within the edges of the rind of the meat? So, as if I’d not lost enough time already, I had to check over all the meat to see if there was any more string. Good job that I checked it; I found another small piece. (Photo)
It took me ages with cataracts, and I found closing the right eye gave me a slightly better view… But of course, it warped the peripheral view, and I knocked the boning knife off of the counter. It now has its pointed end dented around into a sharp point. What are the odds of another Accifauxpas?
I was washing a basin I’d used, and the landline chimed out. I had to get the basin safe and rushed to get to the phone in time; it took a while. It was Sister Jane. She was in line at the City Ground to collect her ticket for the play-off final for Forest.
Now, this is proof, if the Doctor wants any, that I have Vascular Dementia Doreen: I suddenly thought I might have left the tap running (Cold Water) and excused myself to go and check. I had to, no choice. I grabbed metal Micky and off to the kitchen… The tap was dribbling, and for some reason, I thought it was the hot water tap, and also totally forgot about my leaving the hot water one on earlier, and thought… well, I’m not sure, but I think I told Jane, when I got back to the landline, the hot water tap has run cold? Every time something takes my attention away from what I’m doing, there is a possibility of such farces happening!
However, I didn’t realise this at the time, and we had a chinwag about footy, family etc., for a good while. Colin Cramps was kicking off in the left hand, the bent arm holding the phone for so long; Jane had the same problem, Fatal! Hehehe! Fatal! I foolishly took a swig of nearly cold tea using my right.
Listening to Jane talk, I grabbed some kitchen towels to try to wipe things up. I spilt some tea on the desktop and memory notepad. What the hell next? A little later, Jane rang off as her cramps were getting painful. Bless her.
I cleared up the mess that left some indecipherable scribble on the pad; oh, dear! At long last, I got around to getting the Health Checks done.
At least these results were outstanding all around. SIS 132, DIA 62, Pulse at 79. And the body temperature was the highest it’s been all year. Not that my mind appreciated it at the time. All I could think of was getting yesterday’s blog updated and sent off, let alone thinking of getting this one started! I took some snaps of the car park on Chestnut Way. No RVM? (Red Van Man) I had a look around…
Aha, I found RVM. Parked in the front section. And… parked legally and properly too!
Down below on the right end, I spotted the regularly good parkers, having snuggled their vehicle in nice and tidily!
I updated the Saturday post and got it posted off, much belatedly than planned. Even I didn’t expect so much hassle, Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplop to emerge, even for a Sunday! Surely things have got to calm down? Fingers crossed.
Deciding to treat myself to a non-alcoholic, not a Cocktail, but Mocktail. I enjoyed it… until I remembered that it had pineapple in it. What a pillock! Hopefully, it will not affect the Warfarin INR level too much. I looked at the NHS DVT site about fruits to avoid when on Warfarin. In order of the highest in Vitamin K ones: Dates, Plantains, Kiwifruit, Rhubarb, Cranberries, Pineapple, Avocados, Blueberries, and Blackberries. They added; Certain drinks: Cranberry juice, and Alcohol, can increase the effect of Warfarin, leading to bleeding problems. Avoid or consume only teensy-weensy amounts of Cranberry juice and Alcohol. These drinks, when taking Warfarin, can prove fatal in the event of a bleed. Fair enough, I was aware of all of these.
Da-Daa! I hope she likes it again and that there are no more bits of string in the meat! I got Josie’s meal presented and delivered with a few treats and nibbles.
On the computer, WordPress Reader first. Then Facebooking. Finally, WP Comments. Then remembered to check on Amazon to see when the plates were due to arrive. The Amazon site said they were expected to arrive twixt 16:00 and 1800hrs. Fair enough!
They were: 25 Pcs Disposable Palm Leaf Plates – Organic Wooden Plates Biodegradable and Compostable Natural Eco-Friendly Square Party Plates 15×15 cm. I can’t say why I ordered them, but it seemed a good idea at the time. I think there was some specific use I had in mind? But with the mind being under the influence of Doreen’s Dementia, I don’t recall. Not that that is anything unusual. I like the idea of them being eco-friendly?
I pressed on with making this template, then got to record some actual facts and words. For the more discerning blogger to peruse, of course. Both of them! Hehe! The card reader accepted the photos taken today.
Then the plates arrived from Mr Amazon. By gum, they are so light! They have unevenness across the base. Which may cause me problems when moving or using them and the Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, Shuddering Shoulder-Shirley, or Dizzy Dennis kick-off when I’m eating off them? I wish I could remember what it was about them; they must have sounded attractive when I ordered them?
I’m so behind with this blog now; the Evening Carer will be here soon. I was obviously not going to get a shower today or a meal until very late. But despite the hassle, I do love creating my Inchcock Today… Ah, that reminds me, I’d better go and check on the state of the fungal lesion. Back in a bit…
Carer Sarah arrived. Got me sorted, and we had a laugh and natter for a couple of minutes, which I enjoyed.
Worked on the blog, but I was so far behind. Weariness won the battle, and I got down to get some kip. It was late, about midnight, and I was doing my health, mental and eyes no good staying up this late.
At least when I got down, I was soon in the arms of Sweet Morpheus. But had a weird dream; that seemed to go on and on all night?
First, a few words to explain why this blog is as pathetic as it is
❶ I’ve lost so much time with Liberty-Global Virgin Media going down, I lost count of how many times in the last two days!
❷ Then, today (Saturday), Facebook started doing the same thing!
❸ I took a tumble on Friday, which left me with the shakes.
❹ The eyes seem worse today; it’s a struggle.
❺ Shaking, Shaun returned.
❻ Eyesight still poor
FRIDAY 20th MAY
Good morning; I didn’t do this blog until Saturday evening. There are very few memory notes on the pad and not many photos to help the grey cells out. Facebook was going off again so often, and Liberty-Global – Virgin Media. So this is not going to be very erudite… not that it ever was. There will no doubt be some guesstimating and missed events.
Up at 01:30hrs to get the previous day’s blog completed. WP Reading. Comments, and I pressed on for hours to get the blog done and posted. Facebooked until it, and Liberty-Global Virgin was going down so often, I gave up. Try to catch up later.
Carer Valerie called, and I had the shakes at the time, which worried her a bit; bless her. I was still a bit unsteady when the Morrison delivery arrived, but when he left the packages in the doorway and had scooted, I started to come round nicely. I took some photos while I got the things away.
Still, the fridge didn’t look overfull to me? Could it be the eyes? Or a ghost coming into the flat and eating my stuff while I slept? I put it down to the Mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, or ectoplasms, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind? I sorted things out but could sense, no idea how, but this happens sometimes, a feeling that either an involuntary right-leg, Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was on the way and building up in preparation. It was a tingling sensation up and down my right side, where the stroke affected me. Huh! I decided to take as much care as possible to ensure there would be no ending up on the floor again today!
Herbert kicked off with the clattering, seemingly forever dropping things, drills, hammers, and meal boxes… Humph!
Arrived, I was not too good, and she noticed it. Said I was looking sweaty and pale, bless her.
Ablutions, then blogging away, making little progress. The computer went off again, so I made a meal; I can’t really remember if it was this one or not.
I recall going in the wet room, but I must have had a funny turn cause if I’d worked it out right, I was in there for an hour or maybe fell asleep on the Throne?
I had no idea who the evening caller was; I wasn’t even sure one had called… no… one did… I reckon. Shakes bad.
At it again. Clunk-thudding it.
Ah, I think it was Carer Cheeky Charlie who called on me, but… maybe not.
Got to sleep easier tonight, but the jumping awake was annoying.
SATURDAY 21st MAY
Gave up trying to sleep and rose around 01:30hrs.
Worked on blogging, no washing. Did my best.
Serene Sarah, I’m sure. Or Cheeky Charlie, was it? Both are lovely gals.
After she’d gone, I went to use the Throne. I was doing alright, had a wash while in the wet room, and as I turned towards the door, I had an involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance! I hit the wall and slid to the floor, and made a bruising contact with the floor in no time! It had to come; I expected this yesterday. Minutes afterwards, the lower back pain started and still has not stopped. I’ll see it goes, but I may call the NHS 111 number if I am forced to seek assistance. I won’t do it now cause the pain may ease off as time goes on. I’m such a hero… Hehehe! I’ve been a little wobbly on the legs since the Accifauxpas.
I’ve been a bit unlucky this week. The 40 bus did not stop to pick us up at the bus stop. The tumbles and knocks this week. Walked into doorframes, dropped a bowl of potatoes and cheese, burnt my hand, and slipped off of kerb hobbling up Winchester Street… so, everything is normal there then.
At it again. Clunk-thudding.
The Carer is due anytime now. Got a wash and got into the jammies. Then remembered the potatoes I’d put in the slow-cooker 13 hours ago… Mild Panic Mode Engaged, and shot off to check on things in the kitchen…
As I was getting them out of the pot with tongues, I got a hickey as I caught my little finger in the gripper. Oh, heckithump! Not only were they too soft, each one had blackies on the inside when I sliced them, So they are even looser now.
Carer Valerie arrived and asked me if I needed any help with the spuds. I declined her offer but thanked her. She got the tablets given to me and went on her way, taking the waste bags with her. ♥
I got back to the now lesser-blackeyed potatoes I’d sliced, and put them in the oven, to hopefully crisp them up a smidge. Got some tomatoes o the plate ready and two slices of imitation pork. But…
I cast my mind back to when I had to cook and clean for Dad. I’d got no bread, well I had, but it was in the freezer. So I got a few slices out, put them in an empty saucepan with the garden peas, and hoped they would thaw out before I needed them. No freeze, no fridge, no hot water other than what we boiled on the fire and stove, and no electricity (but we did get it later). Easy peasy when we got DC electricity fitted, gone were the candles… and damned good riddance! How the hell did I manage?
I checked on the potatoes, now sliced and in the oven. The sun was beginning to go down, and I took a few minutes pareidoliaing at the cloud formations. II thought I saw a mouth and lips or an imitation black hole that was white. Hehehe!
Got the fodder served up. The slow cooker and sliced and oven-baked potatoes were terrible, possibly my worst effort in years. But everything else was fine and tasty. Taste: 6.5/10.
Off for a wee-wee and had another figure-finding session at the kitchenette window’s clouds. Sadly, no pictures or visions were seen in the clouds this time. Although looking at them now (Sunday morning), I think I spot a monster in there flying?
As I searched for Sweet Morpheus, Herbert gave me a last short mechanical serenade with a whirling, whining sound to round off, decrescendo style. Possibly, an underpowered drill chugging? I mentally wished the aloof Laodicean a good night.
Seems to be a question over which part this is? Haha!
Breaking News – Deadly Caterpillars found in Nottingham!
What with swine fever & poisonous insecticide…
Covid, Putin, bird flu, which is worse? You decide!
Drunk drivers, murderers, and a shortage of cyanide…
We’d better sort out the best choice for suicide…
Jump off a high building, shoot yourself, or use Fungicide?
Easy for me, I’ll take 10 Warfarins and a few Furosemide
The kids would be heartbroken if their dog died…
But would self-immolation really be justified?
Maybe, cause Putin’s war will soon go worldwide!
I’ll try to catch the court case to see the sentence,
Unless the lily-livered judge decides on his innocence,
All he’ll have to do is show the mock judge reticence,
The judge will bring up some 1895 jurisprudence…
See that the lad didn’t mean to kill, using grandiloquence…
The beak congratulates the lawyer on his great defence…
Fines the lad £50 and pays his court cost expense!
I keep seeing in these reports; the word Sherwood…
Me living there midst of the violence and blood…
Means I don’t feel safe, as any innocent would!
I think I should have left, absquatulated…
Mayhaps the miscreants are misunderstood?
Whatever happened to an eye for an eye, blood for blood…
Christs, it’s dangerous living in Sherwood!
An Angel of Mercy came to the rescue,
Gave no name, a white van driver, too!
Would you think he was from Nottingham, do you?
Probably from Wales, Devon or Crewe?
According to the court records, (a chap here works there). This animal has had 91 convictions for 41 offences. He’s awaiting trial for four fraud charges, attempted robbery, carrying a knife in a public place, and demanding money from several taxi drivers! There are another 44 charges that were ‘dropped’ through lack of evidence (that seems a lot?) and domestic abuse. Five years and five months, with eight months for the eleven fraud charges. I need a mathematician here… how long did the scumbag get for each crime he committed, please?
Confusing?
We’ll trace the suspects earnestly!
No doubt, using their renowned synergy,
And cunningly concealed sagacity…
And scribble a note on the back of the hand!
By pure default.
This man’s a dolt!
Parole Board idiots let him leave clink early, They should be prosecuted and sued, clearly… They got it wrong yet again, then surely… There are not up to the job, pathetically! As Hughie Green said, ‘I mean this sincerely’… The Parollers should be sacked and fined, but severely!
Mayhaps in prison, Brown could train… The Parole Board idiots again… Tell them they are thick, nonsane! Freeing scumbags early is transmundane, They’ll commit crimes again, fly off in a plane… Laugh at them, call them names profane!
A murderer, drug dealer and a crackbrain… They have been freed this year, have they no brain? Everyone who was freed and committed a crime again! I’ve proved at catching runaways; you are inane… Parole Boarders have no morals to maintain, Freeing murderers to kill again is inhumane!
Parole Boarders are as guilty… of this, I am certain… Off the crimes committed by the freed-early lurdane! Are the idiots’ drug addicts, or do they use enflurane? Cause the arseholes free killers again and again?
We (UK) have 246 Parole Board members. It’s agreed, The highest-paid member gets £166,560 indeed! The Prime Ministers’ pay, this does exceed! Justice for the innocents killed by Murderers freed… The wife, husband or child victims’ families…
Guilty Parole members should be locked up or sauteed, On bread and water, with the occasional fried centipede, I wouldn’t say I hate or loath those that intercede… Indeed one or two must-have accurately refereed? Too many freed killers kill again! For revenge or greed!
Woke at 04:20, and I rose from the recliner at 05:00hrs. Why the time gap? Cause I was getting memories of a dream I’d had written on the memory pad to put on here. Wee-wee, and onto the computer.
THE DREAM…
Everyone in the flats got a text message; no more new tenants were allowed in the apartments. In five years, whoever is left will be transferred into wooden bungalows on the grounds of the City Hospital. I was looking forward to living long enough and moving.
The social room at Winwood Court was converted into a pool room with about twelve tables. We all had to compete, and those with the highest scores would get the first choice of wooden cabins to move into. I was told by a Nottingham City Homes manager, “So? I pointed out that I was colour-blind and had cataracts, glaucoma, and saccades. Roger’s only got one hand, and Ethel is as blind as a bat… anyone considered not social enough will be sent to live in the Salvation Army Hostel. So let’s see some willingness and effort!” I apologised.
Blurry memories then, involving a ski slope, toolboxes, and a day trip out on buses for all of us to Skegness. Ethel and I caught the train home after leaving us behind.
On the day of the move, we all set off walking the mile and a bit with guards and Carers. We advanced in single file and long line, all with suitcases, wheelies, etc. Most of us got lost on the City Grounds. Well, I did. Then after finding the others, I was sent to a Bed & Breakfast place in Newcastle. They booked me a train for midnight.
I was sleeping in a corridor, and someone woke me. Somehow or other, I was in the final of the pool competition, and I didn’t win a single game in the qualifying stages? I don’t recall playing this match at all?
Suddenly, many of us were walking back out of the City Hospital grounds, same again, guards, staff, single file. We walked through a Council House Estate, but I had no idea where we were going and why. But I ended up in a coal cellar… Then shot awake!
I went to make a brew of JS Extra Strong… and clouted my right knee against the cabinet corner. Made the brew and left it to stew. Then needed to use the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence was losing his grip a little on the evacuation. So, much less time was wasted on cleaning up.
I took an early morning shot of the view from the kitchen window.
I’m hoping that the JS food delivery will be early, and they will deliver the flowers for Jillie.
So, it will leave me plenty of time to get things ready to get down to Jillie’s house with the flowers, bank, and shopping at the Ozan store. I’m hoping they have some of the Herb veg pork in stock and have a nosey around for any other delights that may take my fancy. Hehehe! Apart from Jillie! 💙
Hello!
Richard arrived, handing me an SD card I could have, damned decent of him, bless him. He had another call, so again could not stay for a chinwag, but I appreciated his generosity. He should be back again the following Monday.
The Sainsbury delivery arrived. Thanks to tp the incompetency of Money-Mad Fries, the $23 million a year boss at Liberty Global, I had no distractions from the no-signal internet on the computer. So I got on with sorting the things delivered out to storage.
As you can see here on the left, fresh foods are topped up and a couple of treats. But they have sent pork pate with pork, not the vegetarian, so that will have to be found a home. There is plenty of date on it, so maybe Richard can have it on Monday. Also, and as well, and besides: Three items short out of stock, but to avoid getting substitutes, like shoe polish for waffles, I ticked the ‘Do Not Substitute’ Button… Cunning? After packing things away, the fridge didn’t look overfull? Had I missed something? Bags of room in the refrigerator still. Have I lost a load of nosh or something? I pondered… I have been known to do this several times a day! Then realised, no yoghourts, no cakes and no leeks, I’ll make an order for Morrisons later.
Not the same story with the freezer, mind you. Well, cram-packed, that is. In fact, I’ve got freeze burns and bruises on my fingers as I fumbled about taking stuff out and rearranging things to make more room for the new stuff squashed and levered and bashed food into the drawers. I felt a smidge smug after sorting it all out! Hehe!
I made the order for Morrisons for Sunday. By which time there should be a little more room. I called Jillie to see which flowers she would prefer, and the gal opted for the roses; nothing romantic was involved in that, I’m too old, and she is too beautiful. But I still love her.
Off to get ablutions. No rush; I think I can take my time and still catch the 10:30hr bus down the hill. I’m not joking here: Harolds’s Haemorrhoids and Little Inchies Fungal Lesion were not bleeding! No bleeding, shaving, nasal clearing or teeth cleaning! Honestly!
These are never pain-free, as you would expect. But nothing was extreme pain-wise; even ointmentating the lesion had an acceptable Argh-Level!
Fair enough, poor old right-knee Arthur Itis and Cathleen Cartilage came off painfully when I was leaving after doing the medicating when an involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about proper leg dance kicked off. I hit my knee on the door frame. I recall being even more annoyed than usual cause everything had gone so well in the session. Got dressed and checked the items needed, and I set off…
THE TRIP OUT!
I put the rebagged flowers in the trolley walker in carrier bags, with some plonk for the Wardens and Jillie. Out, locked the door, in the lift, along the link corridor into Winwood Court, to the Wardens Holding-Cell Offices. Haha! Dropped the Alstroemeria Bouquet for Generaloberstess, Ice skating champion, Warden Julie, and Desktop Dancer and Obersturmbannfuhreress Warden Dean this week. Wished the gals well and out to the bus stop… this was unbelievable!…
I arrived at the bus with almost perfect timing. Four other tenants, who I greeted, were at the bus shelter. I was standing near the kerbside with my bus pass in hand… The 40 Bus sped into and around the turning island… and ignored us all, didn’t slow down an iota, – and he sped back out again? The folks were livid! Shaking fists at the departing bus, shouting, swearing… I think this may have annoyed them somewhat!
I set off wobbling along with the walker-guide trolley. I couldn’t get annoyed with the bus driver until I found out why leaving us. He may well have just got a message on the RT about a family member taking ill? I set off down Winchester Street towards Jillie’s house at the bottom of the road on the left. The right knee caused me some discomfort en route, but knowing I was just about to meet Jillie eased things considerably. Hehe! ♥
I took my time and got to her door. It was a pleasure to see her smiling face as she helped me up the steps with the trolley. I handed her the roses, and I got a kiss for them and the plonk. She was working on and off in the other room. She made me comfy in a chair and put cushions around me – yer can’t ask for better treatment!
We had some chinwags, and later, she signed off work on her computer to go with me to the cashpoint and shop. What an angel!
As we were waiting to cross over to the bank, Jillie said: There’s a cashpoint at Ozan’s shop. Let’s go there. So we did! She helped me back down the steps, and we chinwagged on the short trip to the bank machine.
It was terrific shopping with Jillie. She looked after me like she would a grandfather; I thought of her as a daughter. She dealt with staff for me cause she knows my hearing problems, and I got some vegetarian and pork meats, amongst other items. We walked back up Winchester Street, where her house was, hugged, and departed. She left me at the bus stop, bless her cotton socks.
I’d just missed a bus, so I decided to walk carefully up the hill, taking some photographs en route.
Halfway up Winchester Street Hill, the clouds caught my eye again, and I took this snap on the right. It came out rather artistically? Well, maybe not, then. Getting towards where the road changes name. To the right, it becomes Mapperley Rise, and to the left, at the building you see, it continues as Winchester Street. I think years ago it led to the railway station, now gone! In fact, the flats were built on the site!
As I turned onto Chestnut Way, where Winwood Heights are, I noted on the verge the usual Nottingham collection of rubbish, and amidst the fag packets, sweet wrappers, empty bottles, chewing gum, thrown away cans and contraceptives, the flowers that always amaze me more than any other. The determined daisies. So pretty and yet simple. The blue can, maggots coming out of it? Hehehe! What’s this, alcoholic maggots and meat flies?
I crossed over Chestnut Way, passing the bus stop that people get abandoned at, Haha!). I knocked on the Warden’s office to report the bus, but I think they were on break, so I continued through the link corridor on my way. Not a soul in sight; it was oddly eerie until a man and woman came in the opposite direction, we exchanged pleasantries between us, and I went to the swipe door at the end.
The area built for mobile and disabled scooter storage is where the power points are located.
Then, on to the lifts in Woodthorpe Court.
Still nobody about. I pressed for the 12th-floor. (Well, it seemed a good idea as I live on the 12th, Haha! I can still be quick sometimes! Not physically, mind, my days of bungee jumping are over! I can’t see (Cataracts, Glaucoma and Saccades, Haha!) myself playing snooker, squash, or even the barrel organ again? I’ve not got a lot of hope of doing the Hokey Cokey!
I got through the inner lobby doors, wiping the blood off the wall after trapping my knuckle in the door as I fought to stop the wheelie-walker from going over.
Then whilst I was struggling through the apartment door with the wheelie-guide, I knocked the waste bags off the box, and one split open! Why do I bother?
Got it cleaned up and sorted. Put the trolley in the corner, brakes on, turned to go through to the kitchen with a little bag of nosh, and knocked nearly all of the clothes hanging on the hooks off onto the floor as Dizzy Dennis paid a visit!
I got the mock ham, sandwich fillers, and soft cheese portions. Ready to make the nosh later… Oh, and the bottle of Oyster sauce. I’ve never tried that before, and Jillie warned me not to use it a lot.
Then it was concentrating on getting this blog done. I spent four hours on it, and the evening carer arrived; it was Cheeky Charley, so pleased to see her; she’s not been for a week or two now.
Did some more blogging and then on to Facebooking catch-up.
Lovely day for me; seeing Jillie was the highlight. But walking down and up the hill had done me in. I’ll get some fodder and sleep, I hope. Finish this off in the morning… again, I hope. I wash, stripped off, and down to kip! Haha!
Friday AM, 01:30hrs. I’m back. Wee-wee and on the computer.
Uploaded the nosh picture and car park ones from yesterday. The first car park one showed a lack of RVM vans on the hatched no parking area and the small red car in RVM’s spot. RVM had parked at the back in a proper car parking space. Curious! Hehe!
The sourdough sarnies, veggie sausages and meat, cheese twist, yellow tomatoes, banana and mini vegan orange flavoured cake made up the evening meal. A Taste Rating of 7/10.
😴 Ode to Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit 😴
No Mortal is at all hours wise: to those giving generously, R.A.O.B., Military, Masonry, things like them, you see? GLE, GLC, folks who generally live life benevolently, And many others working for a charity, Does this ode verse lack a certain clarity?
This Ode, maybe a smidge short on facticity, I always wanted to join brainy clericity, But I was too thick and brain dead; that was a pity, No education for me; I survived using astucity, I shouldn’t be writing about this; I lack profundity!
Did my best in school but lacked the perspicuity… Never got near to showing any sagacity… Not guilty of showing financial rapacity… For being bullied, being a coward, I’d got the capacity… I’d have had a better life if I’d shown more pugnacity,
To others, I seem to confuse with abstrusity… I’ve tried to retain unquestionable veracity, honesty, Yet always a victim of con men and predacity… I also try to avoid showing spite or mordacity, I was born with certain appendages of great paucity!
I strove to avoid doing the devil’s work, infelicity… Unfortunately, with a high level of inefficacity! Always the victim, gullible, with incredible credulity, My brain showing sporadic moments of reality… But riddled throughout with psychoactivity!
This morning, my depression turned to contemplation, First, a few moments of deep retrospection, What ifs, maybes and with some reprehension… With mixed feelings, I recalled Thatcherisation, A spirit that shocked and scared the whole nation, Can’t keep his pants on John Major, constipation! Tony Blair, liar, self-advancer and chancer… revulsion! Gordon Brown, debt maker, indeed, no statistician, Runaway Etonian, smug, arrogant but shit… Cameron,
Theresa May, Grenfell Fire, Tory Council, on the next day, Lessons from the fire would be learned, she did say… Visited the aftermath and was chased away! Kensington & Chelsea London Borough Council, well they… … are responsible, but Tories: So, no prosecutions to this day!
Guilt, self-blame, and self-recrimination led to self-expostulation, Whatever came to mind led me to self-recrimination… Black depression, I’d lost control and rationalisation… I needed a bit of luck… to regain my motivation… Eventually, I settled for acceptance of insanity and self-irrision! It seems my life will never get any moments that are ambrosian, Then again, there’s is there ever any justification…
But no! I shall fight this darkness by being conciliatory, Apart from the ailment, deafness, and cataract, I can see… Most of the other problems are down to my past stupidity! The guilt should be expected and accepted, you see… Bad choices, and decisions, are coming back to haunt me! So how do I fight them off to get my mind guilt-free? I just have to sulk and take the blame compliantly!
I found when reading this that it flows with duplexity… My rambling thoughts get entangled, incipiently… Reviewing failures is a wise thing, necessitously… I’ve so many ailments and faults characteristically, And a stomach that bulges grows, excrescently! I struggle through each day rather incompetently, Thought storms and depressions are just an inevitability! This does not stop me from wanting happiness, such a pity!
Inchcock is now out of his Dracula Depression,
The main reason was his guilt; he now shows contrition…
The reasons for this, there’s a combination…
Well, several really, starting with his visit to the fridge,
He found some mushroom pate, just a smidge…
Not a common pate; this one had caramelisation!
With chips in his freezer, this eased his deprivation!
Chips, pate, tomatoes for his palettes delectation…
He loves his comfort food, and that’s no exaggeration,
He now accepts his loneliness and being Godforsaken…
First, though, this blog to do; he also loves his scriptitations!
Diary
Due to my taking so long to do the ode, a shortened version. Sorry!
After falling asleep early last night, I sprang awake at 01:30hrs. Wee-wee, wash, wee-wee.
Sorted out a waste bag or two, passed wind, and shot to the wet room to utilise the Porcelain Throne – Trotsky Terence controlled – Messy! Decided to get the ablutions done. A lot of cleaning was already needed after the almost liquid evacuations.
Got the computer on. I loaded pictures from yesterday.
Latest local Covid figures.
I’m assuming Tuesday night, a meal from earlier, not positive as to which day it was on. But Dementia Doreen is not letting me access the old memory easily at this moment. She is a bugger!
Getting back into the room after ablutionalisationing. The legs, ankles and feet were looking a little less battered about. But Arthur Itis and Cathy’s Cartilage were giving me some sticks.
Carer Richard arrived. Looking well done in after his shift. He said he had another call to make, so he could not stop for a decent natter. But still gave me a few minutes, bless him.
Herbert kept me company over the next couple of hours as I started updating yesterday’s blog. Got it finished as Herberts stopped his banging and clanging. Which was nice not to hear.
I took a break, and hobbled around the flat, did the belated balance exercises, and did a bit of bending, but this routine was restricted by Cathy and Arthur Itis. But no Dizzy Dennis visits yet. Yehaa!
Facebooked on TFZ and Winwood Heights pages. Did some WordPress Reading, then Comments reading and answered. Computing again, I Finished and posted the blog.
Made a start on the ode for this blog. The ideas were coming so fast I could hardly type them fast enough… thus it took me hours and hours to get it finished, and a multitude of errors had to be corrected.
Herbert gave me good hours of bangs, scraping noises, tap-tapping, and finishing his concert with a proper crunch-thud. Silence after that? I hope the haughty, snobby, pompous gentleman has not injured himself and is not lying up there, bleeding in agony.
I put the computer in sleep mode, rose from the swivel chair, and went into the balcony to have a moment’s peace. Took the Canon camera with me and shot the end car park
RVM, the Red-Van-Man van, had parked even further into the yellow chevron No Parking Zone. Still, it is not too important an issue with all the murders, prison escapes, stabbings, and children being mauled and killed by dogs.
I pressed on with the blog, but tiredness overcame me. It does that occasionally, I’ve noticed!
I called my Precious Jillie (Ex Carer) to see if she’ll be in tomorrow, and I can drop off the flowers for her. (Assuming that J Sainsbury’s delivers them and not a block of lard as one of their famous substitutes!) Luckily she agreed. So on the way down to get some cash from the hole in the wall.
I can pop them into Jill’s home, go to the bank, and then Ozan, the Continental Shop, for their delicious vegetarian beef, sausages and sourdough bread (Not on order from JS). No doubt some other bits that will catch my eye.
I turned off the computer, planning to get my meal, head down, and wake alter to complete the blog-finishing mission.
I got the nosh prepped and served up. Potato fries, finely crushed tomatoes, veggie bacon, and a pot of the delicious instant mash with veg sausage bits and a gravy flavour. Not a mixture one would usually have, but I was tired, confused, and a smidge fed-up at the time. But it tasted okay, and I ate most of it. Taste Rating: 7/10.
Stripped and washed, I got down in the £300 second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable, unfit-for-use, not working recliner, underneath a blanket. Determined to get to sleep…
On the verge of nodding off, I realised I was naked, and the Carer was due in about an hour… So, not wanting to make the mistake of greeting a Carer with no trousers on again, I got some jammie bottoms, and a t-shirt on, about to get back down in the chair, and needed a wee-wee rather urgently, and made my way to the bucket…
I stubbed my toe on the wheel of the recliner as I lost my balance… banged my already painful Arthur Itis and Cathy Cartilage patella on the arm of the chair, swore, nearly pee’d myself but got there in time… had a somewhat sad wee-wee, and emptied the now nearly-full NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), washed and disinfected it.
Eventually, I got resettled in the recliner. Once again, on the verge of drifting off to sleep… and ♫Oh, Susana♫ chimed from the doorbell, and Carer Valerie came in. I was not entirely with it, but she got me sorted, and unknown to me at the time, she washed meal things for me. Bless her!
Gave up, got up, and got back on the Computer. Sleep had been taken of of my agenda now. I turned the TV on to watch a Heartbeat episode, nodded, and missed the last ten minutes.
I cheered up a bit when the Card Reader started working again, and I got this photographicalisation that I took earlier of semi-puffer clouds. Tsk! I thought I saw a claw, but I can’t find it now.
It is now just gone midnight. And I’ll post this off and try again to get some sleep, Sweet Morpheus permitting, of course.
Ever since the death penalty was abolished in 1965, people in England and Wales who have committed murder have been given mandatory life sentences. However, there is usually a minimum tariff within those life sentences indicating how many years the prisoner should serve before being considered for parole. Across the country, only around 70 prisoners are serving ‘whole-life’ sentences where they will never be released.
Below is a list of some of the killers the Post has reported on who have been given life with a minimum of at least 20 years since 2007. We haven’t included anyone serving their time abroad, such as Neil Entwistle, the Worksop man doing life without parole in the US for killing his wife and daughter.
Peter Brown (below) of Main Street, Kimberley – 40 years for stabbing Darran Lancashire in Kimberley and stabbing Brian Flaherty in Lenton six days later. He was sentenced in 2010, and three years later, he confessed to a third murder of a fellow inmate at HMP Parkhurst on the Isle of Wight back in 1994.
Simon Palmer of Edwin Street, Daybrook – 33 years for the murder of Tony Fisher. The 43-year-old was part of a gang of four men who broke into Mr Fisher’s home in Carlton, before torturing and then murdering him to steal jewellery and between £10,000 and £14,000 in cash. See also Marcus Barton (below). (Sentenced in 2017)
Marcus Barton (right)and Simon Palmer
Michael Furniss of no fixed address – 32 years and 11 months for the murder of Andrew Dosiuk in Arnold. (2014)
Damien Fogo of Hungerhill Gardens, St Ann’s – 32 years for shooting Germaine Edwards in Bilborough. (2013)
Peter Smith (left) of West Hill, Skegby, 30 years for bludgeoning neighbour Hilda Owen in Skegby after writing her will and leaving everything to him. He was sentenced in 2008, and his conviction was later overturned, but in 2012 he was found guilty of her murder for the second time, this time receiving life with a minimum of 27 years.
Peter Jacques of Charlesworth Street, Bolsover – 28 years for stabbing Nigel Bacon near Clumber Park. He was sentenced in 2009, and a year later, the minimum term was reduced to 26 years on appeal.
Robert Marcinkiewicz-Szukowski (below) of Rossington Road, Sneinton – 27 years for the murder of Bogdan Nawrocki, whose body has never been found. (2015)
Robert Marcinkiewicz-Szukowski
Marcus Barton of Raymede Drive, Bestwood Estate -25 years for the murder of Tony Fisher in Carlton. (2017)
Paul Hutchinson (below) of Stockgill Close, Gamston – 25 years for the murder of Nott’s schoolgirl Colette Aram in 1983. He killed himself in prison nine months after being jailed for her murder. (2010)
Susan Edwards (below) of Dagenham, Essex – 25 years for the 1998 shooting of her parents, William and Patricia Wycherley in Forest Town. (2014)
Christopher Edwards (above) of Dagenham, Essex – 25 years for the 1998 shooting of his father-in-law and mother-in-law William and Patricia Wycherley in Forest Town. (2014)
Kathryn Smith of Sandfield Drive, Annesley – 24 years for murdering her 21-month-old daughter Ayeeshia. She has appealed against her 2016 conviction, with a decision due later this year.
Jonathan Jones of Barbury Drive, Clifton – 24 years for stabbing John Parker in St Ann’s. (2015)
Susan Bacon of Keeper’s Cottage, near Clumber Park – 24 years for the murder of her gamekeeper husband, Nigel Bacon. (2009)
Rene Sarpong (below) of Lamartine Street, St Ann’s – 22 years for the 2002 shooting of 16-year-old Brendon Lawrence in St Ann’s. (2010)
Michael Bacon of Wordsworth Avenue, Mansfield Woodhouse – 21 years for the murder of his mum’s husband, Nigel Bacon. (2009)
James McCarthy of Collyer Road, Calverton – 21 years for killing Julie Semper in Mapperley. (2015)
Jemelle Rodney of Mitcham, Surrey – 20 years for stabbing Nathan Somers in Newark. (2013)
Shane Guest (right) of Austin Close, Mansfield – 20 years for stabbing former school friend Thomas Alderson in Mansfield. (2010)
Of course, not all of the longest sentences have been handed out to people who have been guilty of murder. Bestwood crime lord Colin Gunn was given 35 years in 2006 for conspiracy to murder Joan and John Stirland in Lincolnshire. John Russell of Northcote Way, Bulwell, was jailed for a minimum of 30 years, and Michael McNee, of no fixed address, was jailed for at least 25 years after both were also found guilty of conspiring to murder the Stirlands. And Gary Hardy of the Copse, Mansfield, was given 20 years in 2008 for conspiracy to supply heroin and amphetamines, money laundering and possession of criminal property.
More Detail on Nottingham Prison…
16 NOTTINGHAM PRISON ESCAPEES!
ALFIE HINDS: Alfred – also known as Alfie-Hinds, was the most famous escapee. Hinds was jailed for 12 years following a £38,000 cash and jewellery robbery in London’s Tottenham Court Road in 1953. But in November 1955, he and another inmate, burglar Patrick Fleming, escaped from Nottingham Prison in Perry Road. The two men had obtained a duplicate key to the prison carpenter’s shop, and they hid there until it was time for their bid for freedom. They stacked wooden window frames and lengths of timber on top of each other, and scaled the pile to reach the top of the 20ft wall.
Once over the wall and into the prison playing field, they used the timber again to get over a lower wall on the other side of the fields. They then broke through a wire fence to escape to the nearby housing estate. The two men got clean away. For the next few months, Hinds was on the run, but he still found time to write letters to newspapers protesting his innocence of the robbery. Fleming was the first to be recaptured, but it was not until August 1956 that 38-year-old Hinds were found in Dublin – 245 days after escaping. (That, however, wasn’t the end of it.
During a High Court appearance in 1957, he escaped from the building and made it all the way to London Airport, where he was arrested on a plane about to take off for Dublin. He broke out of Chelmsford Prison and lived in Belfast for two years before being recaptured. He was released from prison in 1964 and died in 1991.)
Well, you’ve got to admire his determination?
FIVE PRISONERS (1963): Remember the film Porridge where the prisoners escaped during a football match? In August 1963, five prisoners escaped through the wire fence at Nottingham Prison – and the break-out happened during a cricket coaching session on the prison sports ground.
Three of the men escaped in an Austin Cambridge car waiting for them on the grounds of the City Hospital. Police drafted in extra men and tracker dogs to search for the five men, all serving sentences of between seven and eight years for burglary offences. Sadly, the Post archives do not readily indicate when or how they were found.
THREE PRISONERS 1963: It seems late 1963 was a prime time for escape – perhaps something to do with the Great Train Robbery capturing the imagination in August that year (incidentally, train robbers Gordon Goody, Thomas Wisbey and Roy James were held in Nottingham Prison before they were transferred to Parkhurst). In September of that year, three men escaped from Nottingham prison by scrambling over the prison wall.
Police believed that once free of the prison grounds, the men stole a Humber Super Snipe from the car park at Nottingham City Hospital. Again, police set up roadblocks around the city and tracker dogs were used in a bid to capture the trio, all in their mid-30s. They also checked pubs and cinemas around the city. But there is no news on what happened to the men, who served eight-year terms for various offences, including receiving stolen goods and breaking and entering.
20-year-old man (1965): This was an example of the classic ‘escape when they take you to hospital’ technique. On August 31, 1965, a 20-year-old man serving three years for theft and house-breaking was taken to Nottingham City Hospital for a routine X-ray examination. But at the hospital, he managed to get rid of his escort and escape through a bedroom window and onto the roof. He was recaptured and returned to Nottingham Prison after being seen on a rooftop in Old Radford. Police called out Nottingham Fire Brigade, who sent an engine with two ladders to block the escape routes on either side. Policemen shone torches on the man – who was said to be “running like a cat along the rooftops” – and he was recaptured.
Six prisoners (1982): This was such a serious breakout that questions were asked in the House of Commons about how it had been allowed to happen. It involved six men who Home Secretary Willie Whitelaw would later describe as ‘not dangerous’. However, one was serving a life sentence for murder, and the others were serving sentences of between three years and 30 months for a range of offences. However, because they were nearing release – with the convicted murderer about to be transferred to an open prison – they were accommodated in unlocked Nissen huts about 15ft from the perimeter wall.
Just before midnight on July 11, they bolted three-bed frames together to make a ladder, used sheeting to make a rope, and escaped over the wall. Three men were captured in Luton within a few hours, and two more on July 14.
But when Nottingham North MP William Whitlock raised the escape in the House of Commons on July 19, the murderer was still on the run. Mr Whitelaw told him that a report about the escape was being written but that all six men were eligible to be housed in the less-secure huts. Remarkably, the flight over the wall was actually witnessed by another prisoner in the middle of a rooftop protest and hunger strike when it happened. Martin Foran spent 47 days on the prison roof protesting that he was innocent of the charges of armed robbery he had been jailed for, having been convicted in 1978 following an investigation by the now-discredited West Midlands Serious Crime Squad. His wife, who said that he was being unfairly treated because he was Irish, reportedly scaled a nearby roof in a show of solidarity. Mr Foran said he had watched the escape of the six prisoners but had refused to join them. His conviction was quashed in 2014. Abbott later pleaded guilty to wounding concerning the bar attack and escaping custody, aggravated vehicle taking, driving while disqualified and driving without insurance. He was jailed for a total of four years and one month.
A FEW LOCAL NEWS SNIPPETS BONUS
A neighbour shot the rat after taking the photo.
I was dubious in inputting the above of poor Diana on the blog. But decided I felt so sorry for her. As if the lady had not gone through enough already, this had happened to her.
Things stirred back to reality at 05:25hrs, after 6 hours of sleep and various periods of jumping awake. Making a total time being awake of two hours. Does that make sense? Sorry if not.
According to the best I can make out from the scribbled memory notes, the next occurrence was; P.Tarone Enight? Beats me!
I rose like a tried elephant from the c1968 second-hand recliner, grabbed walking stick Metal Mickey, and went to the wet room to get the Ablutions done.
But my dithering nature interfered, and I took the waste bin out of the wet room, emptied the others and made up some waste bags. Took them to the flat door.
It was drizzling outside, and as I put the kettle on, I took a photo of the road to the left of the kitchenette window. Plenty of trees on it get fresh air.
It’s no wonder I’ve never seen a for sale sign on the beautiful looking Cavendish Vale.
The skies were, I thought, ripe for a few minutes of pareidolia. I’m keen on finding figures in the clouds. But on this occasion, I failed to find any. Humph!
Well, apophenia, finding figures in anything, creases, reflections, cracks in floor tiles, and bulging veins. I’m experienced in that one, having more bulging veins than most people.
I made the tea, went to put the milk in, but diverted back to getting the ablutioning done.
Well, once again, it was a fair session. Fair enough, a few teeny-weeny cuts shaving, but no knocks and bangs, dizzies, toe-stubbings or tumbles. I didn’t engage the Smug-Mode… it’s early yet.
I even got out through the door without any shoulder-charging of the frame… Yes, go on then;
Got the laundry bag sorted. Made another mug of tea for the one I let go cold, and Dizzy Dennis gave me a few moments of concern… only a short bout, maybe a minute at most. But it had me holding on to the stick and hastening to sit down. But Dennis disappeared, and I was fine when I stood up? There are no messages from EQ, but I think it may be another semi-harrowing day, somehow?
Sunday’s photograph of the messy mud-slide onto the end car park on Chestnut Way. It has been known for Cataract Kathleen to do this to me! I hope I’ve not put this one on before?
This is this morning’s shot of the same area. I found some more of the indecipherable scrawl on the memory pad here, not the foggiest of what it meant. Try as I did, it remains a mystery,
A sudden robust rumbling from the innards! I was all but too late, getting to the Throne in time in seconds. Trotsky Terence controlled the evacuation. Gawdawfull messy it was! Had to change the PPs (Protection Pants) I’d put on an hour ago! Ah, well, I got everything cleaned up.
Richard arrived late; he’d had a lousy shift, I think. The poor lad looked done in. He still had a look at the SD card for me. Putting it in and out to see if anything changed; and found that the card had split! He took the waste bags out with him for me, with my thanks.
I hope the new card works in the Canon and the reader accepts it. Praying here!I opened the card, full of hope and cut my finger on the plastic! Got it fitted in the camera (not the finger, the SD card), and I tried taking shots that I did yesterday to use here and test the system. Good heavens, it worked! So, I engaged in the use of the, with reservations. As you can see here, it worked.
Outside my Winwood Heights Independent Living block of flats, I hobbled out onto the balcony to look at what was. Conducted my Blood Pressure and temperature checks. SYS 154, DIA 68, Pulse 78, and the body temperature was a decent 34.1°c.
A couple of miles away, I took a zoomed-in shot of HMP, her Majesties Nottingham Prison. And thoughts and questions permeated through… “I bet they can see their prison Doctor or Dentist at any time?”, “They’ll get their cataracts done quicker than I get mine!” “They are not worried about the rent, electricity, food, transport, bus fares, etc. going up?” “Most likely, get their free computers mended for free!” They’ll not worry about forgetting to lock their doors either! Hahaha!
Gawd, he’s been at it again, almost one-stop since morning. Bang, tap-tap, scrape, thud, boing… I did not retaliate. After all, what is the point in haggling with the self-centred, impolite, insensitive, disrespectful, snobbish, haughty, pompous, pretentious, uppity, scoffing, contumelious, smart-alecky, and ineffable, cruel, unsympathetic, toffee-nosed, self-important, nyaff, noisy nasty man? As luck has it, I like him.
Far too ridiculously late, I made a start on this blog. Of course, something had to go wrong…
Am I the luckiest person on earth, I asked myself?
Of course not!
That honour must go to Steve Fries, the bigwig of Liberty Global, Whose inability to send an uninterrupted internet signal to Nottingham earns him $23 million a year!
Jealous? Me? Yes!
Miraculously, it was only down for a minute or so this time; I felt almost happy about it! Temporarily!
I thought I’d better check to see if any messages or missed calls had been received while I was so busy being mucked about my Herbert and Fries. Still, Herbert entertained me with some clattering-about sounds.
Could I find the phone? No! There was worry but no panic initially. All I had to do, was go through all of my jackets and trousers that I’d worn since I last used the mobile phone (whenever that was). I vaguely remember putting it in a pocket and saying, “Don’t forget that it’s in that pocket!”
Within about ten minutes, I settled for Thursday, when the foot lady texted me telling me I was late for my appointment again… that was in the brain box! I engaged my Sherlock Holmesian Methodology, and first, I worked out when I last went out. Now, what was I wearing? Maroon jacket? Blur jacket? Black trousers, or green trousers? Was I wearing my trousers – nobody said anything.
After a heated discussion with myself, I narrowed it down to the green or black trousers; and the red or blue jacket, all of which were in the laundry bag. Then thought, aha! (I do that sometimes), It might be in the pyjama bottoms, two pairs of them in the laundry. I almost felt confident as I went into the back room to search for the clothing in the bag… I should have known better at my age and after many years of failed memory training!
Well, now I was getting hot under the collar! I smugly checked through every pocket and the bag… not sausage in there. (Not that I was after one, of course, a figure of speech and all that).
A lengthy search in each room and all the clothes hanging up in the front room and the hallway proved a failure, with no mobile to be seen. Of course, if I knew my mobile number, I could ring it and hope I heard it to locate it. Although if it was in a pocket, as I still believed it was, I might not hear it anyway… I rang the desktop dancer and Warden Deana to ask if she could ring the mobile for me, but to was engaged… oh, that reminds me; she is six weeks away from getting married; bless her, and a lucky fellow too… I digress again, sorry. I do tend to do that a lot.
I rummaged, rooted and ferreted about, delving into the most unlikely of places, all to no avail. Then a spark in the brain suggested that it may have fallen and gone underneath the cabinet or recliner? Worth a look, so I did…
I got the torch and was leaning on the arm of the recliner to get low enough to check the sides, with my intentions bravely being, if no success, to get on my knees to look under the chair. But as I was leaning forward and on my left leg – perfect timing from the Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, who gave me a flailing right leg out of control dance… Which naturally had me on the floor in seconds. The spectacles are now in a precariously loose state of repair. Also, I’ve got two newly bruised knees and a red cheek from hitting the arm on the way down!
As I was recovering and considering how to get back up on my feet, Deana came in at just the perfect time! She got me up, made sure things still worked with the legs, and laughed at the (at the time unknown to me) red patch on the cheek that looked like a clown’s make-up! Hahaha! Not really, but she should have.
Deana rang my mobile. I couldn’t hear it. But she found it, under the cover on the back of the computer chair… in a jacket pocket! I am totally losing it, and a twit!
Well, worra day! Again! It’s nearly 1700hrs now, so sleep looks like being late tonight. This blog is not halfway through yet! I pressed on with it like a mini but fat hero, determined to get it up to date…
♫Oh, Susana♫ rang out. I hobbled to the door (It was a pronounced hobble, the right knee was in some pain, Tsk!) and found Josie returning the jar that held the two meals for yesterday. Bless her, I could not hear what she was saying, but plashed a smile, mentioning Betty Bunter, bless her.
Arrived, soon sorted. Then, I had a go at catching up on Facebooking. Then comments on WordPress.
Got the nosh started. It is now passed 21:00hrs. It’s been another gruelling day. I caught my hand on the oven dish as I took it out of the oven. I believe I said, “Bother!”
Veggie burger, fries, tomatoes and some sugar snap crap Ecuadorian peas. I realised a small stale cake and an out-of-date, but I could not see the date, and tasting it realised it was rancid. The banana was okay, though. However, despite these minor upsets, the flavour rating given was 6.5/10.
Had a wash, and when I came out to do the pot washing, the great sky looked to me just like an oil or water painting.
I took my time taking the last photo, as it was zoomed-in and getting the Canon camera to hold steady enough for a decent shot was not easy. I probably had to take six or seven tries to get this last one, which is not very good. But retains something about it that I like.
I deleted the old snaps on the new SD card. Thinking it would be less confusing for Kathleen’s Cataracts, Doreen’s Dementia and me. But no, I only deleted two that had not been put on the computer yet! Hehe!
Getting to sleep was nigh on impossible; well, it was. The Thought Storms rampaging through the brain, self-hatred, shame, fear… I was in the right state. It’d been a messy day, but why this? I put the TV on, but that didn’t send me off. Utter worn-outedness did it in the end, around about 02:30hrs!
Still, yers don’t like to complain, does yer?
Alto-Inchies Ode on Inchcock
I’ve been a bit worried about Inchcock for many a day, His brain has been loaded with worries & clamjamfry… Doreen’s Dementia is getting more and more on display! His memory is shot to pieces, bar some bits of scintillae, He’s had two falls, one on Sunday, another on Monday, His outlook, ideas and hopes become anachronistically… If they come at all, his writing is full of godwottery!
But it wouldn’t help if he won the lottery… He’s lost interest in anything financially… His nest egg dwindling, becoming almost eleemosynary, Worried over increases, rent, care, food, even his tea! Electricity, travel, all risen in price, becoming too costly… Will he get through it? There’s no guarantee… If he tops hissen, what’ll happen to me?
Alto-Egos don’t always have it this easy, Dominating Inchcock has been easy peasy! Where will they move me? What human will I accrue? Putin? His Alto-Ego could resign, but will he do? I’d like to get at a human that’s evil, bloodthirsty! For I fear I’ll get another docile twit like Inchie.
On his way home from the getting some cows heel and tripe for his Dad. As he was crossing the canal on the bridge on Wilford Street. A gang of teenage Herberts lifted him and unceremoniously threw him off the bridge into the canal! Being about six years of age, scared to death of water, and unable to swim (His fear was life-long, he still can’t). He struggled to grab hold of a barge rope hanging over the side of the boat but lost his grip, he got cold, and his fingers were not big enough to hold on… As he sank into the water, a pair of strong hands from a bloke in a rowing boat dragged him out and took him home. Where his father knocked the hell out of him for losing the tripe and cow heel, pointing out that the 2/6d (12.5p) cost would come out of his pocket money! Which baffled the lad a bit cause he never did get any pocket money from his Dad in his life?
SUNDAY 15th MAY 2022
05:15hrs, I begrudgingly woke and awaited the brain to join me. Which it did, with the message that I needed a wee-wee. I freed my cumbersomely large bellied body from the £300 second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable, unfit-for-use, not working recliner. NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) took me a while due to the vast amount of PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling).
Dizzy Dennis kept going at me all morning long in short bursts. I got the waste bag sorted out and started prepping the veg to go in with Josies Chilli meal. Chopped leeks, carrots and peas.
Opened the can of Chilli and started adding the cooked vegetables. Put them in the saucepan and add squid vinegar (liquid salt), chilli powder, Worcester sauce, and malt vinegar. After testing the flavour, I can add gravy salts and tomato puree with basil.
Herbert is noisy again. Bloody Sundays and weekends, he’s always the same!
I visited the Porcelain Throne. A good job that the carer was so late because I must have been in the half-an-hour at least. Most of the time was spent cleaning and clearing up. Trotsky Terence was in charge again. You wouldn’t believe the amount of loo roll used! Tsk!
Got a good wash and showering done, I felt a bit better then. Coming out of the wet room, I got through the door, and by the fairer without a knock, shoulder slamming or toe stubbing.
A new carer came in without ringing the buzzer-chime, and of course, I didn’t hear her coming. Sarah, she’s not been before. Nice gal, but she didn’t take the waste bag with her, no problem. I can do that later with the next one to go. No problemo! Well, as long as Vascular Dementia Doreen lets me remember. Hehehe!
The photos went on through the card reader!!!! So I got the old ones on. Yesterday one here first. The state of the ankles as I came out from the shower yesterday. Not painful nor itchy, although they did later.
These on the right are what they looked like after this morning’s session at ablutioning. Not any different, really. Or are they, and Cataract Kathleen has missed something?
A morning photographicalisation from the kitchenette next. The bright sunshine on my face made it impossible to take a good one.
My evening, well, was the only meal of the day. Potato slices baked, tomatoes, crap tasting sugar snap peas. And gorgeous mushroom pate on a couple of baps. Taste Rating: 8.8/10!
These two were taken with a sort of foggy haze in the air. After seeing them, I thought they had a kind of gentle quality to them. That’s not what I mean, but as close to what I can explain. Peaceful, tranquil, they made me feel free from strife… of course, that didn’t last for long. But a good sensation while it lasted… I’m now awaiting the arrival of the next Whoopsiedangleplop. I pressed on with updating and posting the Saturday bog to WordPress. The Facebooking, WP Reader, and some WP comments are to read and reply to.
Herbert’s cacophony of banging, clanging and grinding noises continues.
A wee-wee, and back to the photos. I took this shot from the balcony. RVD (Red-Van-Man) is back, but the small red car has taken up his beloved parking spot on the yellow no-parking lines. Hahaha!
Time to start checking on and serving up Josie’s nosh now. On my way to the kitchen, ♫Oh, Susan♫ chimed out from the doorbell? Josie came to tell me that she was going out to a restaurant with her sister and didn’t need the meal! Well, blow me, fancy letting me know half an hour before I deliver the meal! But let’s face it, it’s much better than five minutes. Hehehe!
She said she could collect it tonight on her way home. So, I said I’ll put it in a big jar to let it cool, then you can place the container into your fridge; that’ll be two chillies to use later on. Josie added, “She’s (Her sister) has only just called me to let me know”.
Herbert just dropped something this time; it sounded heavy. I gave him a gentle tap on the piping with my walking stick. Not that it will do anything to help me get some peace. He is the most equanimous, unforthcoming, stand-offish person I’ve ever met. Superior Shithouse!
“Clunk, thud, ratattattatat!” That serves me right for getting annoyed. Then I kept getting scratching-like and knocking noises. I’m so sorry, Sir Herbert!
Two chilli meals in the container and some treats for Josie when she gets back from the meal with her Sister at the restaurant. I’ll get mine (meal) started now, then see if owt is on the TV cause the computer problems are driving me mad! (Of course, there are many other reasons, Haha!)
I put the potatoes and vegetarian burger in the oven, peas in the pan, chopped some mini tomatoes and got the TV on for half an hour while the burger and spuds baked. And put the TV on. To find the Ladies Cup Final was showing, and I got deeply into it, so interested that I forgot all about the cooking!
I fumbled out of the £300 second-hand, decrepit, c1968 recliner, got Walter the Wooden Walking Stick, and into the kitchenette. I nervously opened the oven door… The ‘bake for 30 minutes’ food had been in for nearly an hour!
The breadcrumbed veggie burger did not look appealing at all. It felt very hard. As expected, the potatoes were overdone; some of them, the smaller ones, were inedible and had to be thrown. Yet I ate all of it! Enjoyed it too! The burgers left in the fridge will get overcooked; it was firm and delicious! The spuds were tough to eat, and no doubt damaged a few of my remaining teeth, but it all tasted grand! Flavour Rating: 8/10! I hope Duodenal Donald and Harold’s Haemmorhoids can cope with it, and I get no toothache! Hahaha!
Cara Sara arrived, again not ringing the chime and giving me a shock when she entered the room. But a lovely surprise, she is tall, young, beautiful and charming. (Dang to old age! Har-har!)
Sweet Morpheus was again resistant to my requests for shut-eye! But, when he permitted me to nod off, I slept through without any jolting awakes for just under six hours! Great!
Friends Comments when I got shot (First-Time)
“Oh, yer?” An old schoolmate by the name of Elgin, “Could ‘ave been anyone!” fellow security officer Kathryn, “Tell me another!” My neighbour in Sherwood, Glyn, “Shit!” I forget his name, Welsh lad from Abergynolwyn, “Serves yer right!” The supervisor at control called Kelvin, “Why?” An old passion of mine, a big gal named Roslyn, “I wunt du yoor job!” Traffic Warden, called Edwin, “Tommy rot, yer tit!” Richard, but we called him Dick Turpin, “Will yer be off work?” Manager, we all called him Fagin! From the hospital, they sent me back to the site again… “Can yer drive yersen there, course you can!”… Fagin! “You can’t claim off of us!” Site manager, on arriving…
