Local News Snippets: With Ode Comments, Part 11⅛th

Local News Snippets
With Ode Comments Part 11⅛th

Nottinghamshire News

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How many more people are the Government and Parole Boards going to get murdered? Why are the namby-pamby, battling for prisoners-rights, pathetic parole board members getting it wrong and freeing so many killers? Why do killers have so many rights? Other than to get to use the gallows, they should have none!

On March 9, 1950, a young Welshman living in London was sentenced to death for one of the worst crimes imaginable – the brutal murder of his wife and young child. After a whistle-stop trial lasting just three days, Timothy Evans was convicted and subsequently executed for the murder of his wife Beryl and 14-month-od daughter Geraldine. So, again, who was to blame?

And they do – REPEATEDLY!

Following the unmasking of Christie, a campaign led by many prominent journalists and newspapers sought to highlight what they said was a miscarriage of justice. Still, two official inquiries ordered by the Home Office found nothing wrong. The first, led by John Scott Henderson QC, upheld Evans’ conviction, concluding that Christie’s confession of murdering Beryl Evans was unreliable because it was made to support his defence that he was insane. The second, chaired by High Court judge Sir Daniel Brabin, found it was “more probable than not” that Evans murdered his wife and that he did not murder his daughter – contrary to the prosecution case in the original trial. Yet still, they get things wrong! Jailed ‘for life’ (Hahaha!), but freed to kill again: Shocking new data reveals that 149 criminals have joined the ranks of ‘double-lifers’ over the last ten years to kill again! Our legal systems gang of rich misfits are guilty themselves yet once more.

No wonder freed killers don’t target judges, lawyers or parole officers!

I wonder what would happen if they catch the scumball?
His lawyer will claim he’s going demential?
He took a pain pill once, and now he’s hooked on Ketamine Special?
His ten past convictions have only been financial?
He’s a Covid doctor and must keep his job; it’s essential?
An Auntie touched his knee; his emotions were conflictual?
He got raped by a male cat; unsure if he’s homosexual?
His teachers forced him to play football?
All he wanted was to be an intellectual?
Hit his head, twixt right and wrong are not recognisable?

Conning the judge? Easy, malleable, manageable, and manipulable!
The barrister tells him his clients’ past crimes are nullifiable…
He admits to this charge, for it is not deniable…
Really my client is the one who is pitiable…
He’s not stabbed or raped anyone for weeks; surely that’s praisable?
His motives were not malignant or questionable…
Although his actions he now finds regrettable…
Would a case of Glenfiddich 1937 be acceptable?

A potential trial in September?
Nothing about our legal system is certain,
Then October, maybe even November?
The judge has to break for tea and a frangipane,
Or not at all, unless the judge can keep sober…

And how long before this pair of shits is free again?
By the look of them, their dink must be high-octane…
They don’t look respectable or humane…
They ought to be stuck on top of a weathervane…
I’d sentence them both to an overdose of lidocaine…
I bet the soft judge sentencing, he’ll maintain…
While locked up, they cannot to innocents give pain…
They’ll be out, molesting, hurting and raping again!

An eighteen-year-old attacks five… Holy shit!
Hands and arms of officers and guards he bit?
Well, you can’t say he has no drive and spirit?
Every officer took some form of a kick or hit…
One guard thinks the lad broke a digit?
It took five of them to get him in the car, then the git…
Another officer got kicked on the chin; Gawdamit!
I hope the police carried a haematocrit!

Good heavens, what next! The Black Death?

A fifteen-year sentence?
With an 8-year extended licence?
Eh! What’s all this nonsense?
Chicanery or maybe ambivalence?
Hope it’s not the judges’ munificence?
I looked it up; it proves this judge has sentience!
The additional term in the nick… With I hope, quiescence!
To keep people safe from his concupiscence!
Fancy a judge showing some prospicience!

Looks decent to me?

Well, dang my eye, a conflicting report?
The changing figures seem a little distort…
One set gives fears, the other one comfort?
Still, I’m going to get myself all fraught…
I’ll chew on my bar of strawberry noughat!

What a dodgy looking set of villains!

Elizabeth Dodds, prosecuting, said the steroids, a class C drug, were worth between £90 and £120 on the outside, but in jail, the value increased tenfold up to £1,200. When questioned, Kirkland – who has 139 offences to her name, mainly for shoplifting – announced: “It was just tobacco.” Hahaha!

Alternative accommodation to be found?
Somewhere mayhaps snowbound or icebound?
Somewhere suitable six-foot underground?
Where food has to be begged for or scrounged?
Where freedom again will never be tasted or found!

Well, I’m back to my usual on the find three-houses competition,
Not that this encourages any mardiness or derision!
I never expected to win, although that would be a sensation!
If I was to win anything, I’d lose my identification…
As the unluckiest person in the world, in any Nation…
I’ve not won owt for donkey years; I’ve lost the motivation!

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Late Snippet

13 and 12 months. Do they look like they’re bothered? No wonder I have no faith in the future. There will be more and more violence – and fewer and fewer deterrents.

The End Is Nigh!

Ah, well! I’d berra get summat to eat then.

Advice For Whippersnappers – Part 26⅙th

Advice For Whippersnappers

Part 26⅙th

Oddities whippersnappers may encounter, like leprosy,
An honest politician (Joking!), or water on the knee,
Have ten children; some are yours, at most three!
Go to Scotland for the whisky and to find Nessie…
Soon realise your sanity is becoming an absentee!

Cuddle up to and grope a gal, all nice and cosey…
Sweet words are shared, things getting lovey-dovey!
Then find out her name is Arthur and not Rosie…
No need to feel embarrassed, daft, or dozy…
Fake an excuse, rush off, and send him a posey!

One day you may become an abductee!
The kidnapper demanding lots of money…
Before he’ll think of setting you free…
But no one will pay; you’re not famous, yer see?
He’ll likely keep you as an adoptee!

You’ll eat strange foods, & plain foods, like onion bhaji,
Liqueurs, cannabis cheesecake, and beetroot coffee?
Pickled walnuts, fingernails, and chocolate garibaldi…
Even if financially up a gumtree…
Try anything, as long as it’s free!

Will you be an owner, manager, or employee?
Mayhaps a hippy with long hair and a goatee?
Drugged up to eyeballs, living in a fantasy?
Marching against bombs and nuclear energy…
Just like your Mam and Dad did in 1953!

No need to use a snickersnee or machete…
Wounding or killing is plain bizarrerie…
It could be you’ll need a necropsy?
All through greed and your bellicosity,
Finish now, with hatred and animosity!

Keeping on the straight and narrow takes fortuity…
To hide your weaknesses and frangibility…
We’ve only one life each, not an eternity
Staying honest and non-aggressive shows dignity!
At St Peter’s gate, of wrongs, you’ll need deniability,
It’ll be no good pleading for mercy, circumstantially!

When it comes to things financially,
You must avoid showing credulity!
Moneylenders, Bank managers, show crudity…
But do it to start with using misleading civility!
Muggers and robbers take your cash with audacity!

As you get older, you’ll go much more often for a wee-wee!
With little warning, you’ll rush to the WC…
But, you won’t make it in time very often you see…
I know, cause every day this is happening to me!
It’ll dribble or torrent, with no controllability…

The protection pants offer little comfort to me…
But less protection, as I increase my bellies adiposity…
Struggling, Little Inchie gets stuck in the zip… agony!
I wet myself; wetter than if on a water-skiers jetty!
It bleeds, I cry… this is ageing – it’s not very pretty!

Inchcocks tries to Make Them Laugh in Odes Series

Inchcock Today: Decision-Making Ode

Decision-Making Ode

To give up and let whatever will be, be,
Inchcock needs help, an advisee…
His confidence is low, can’t hear nor see correctly,
Sorting timing and transport problems presently…
Memory and mind blanks are persistently…
Worryingly scary words, guilt at being so portly?
Can’t communicate… he’ll need help shortly…

He’d like assistance without condescension…
Problems with his hobbling obamulation,
Going out? His last two trips caused panic hortation,
He wee-weed himself, oh, vociferation!

Staying in now, he expects a call from the hospital,
Missing it could be fatal… to the depression, he’d hurtle!
His mind’s confused; it does justle and jostle …
Poor old sausage… he worries more than a little!

Before the stroke, he was no mathematician…
Now he needs the help of a physician…
What can he do? He struggles in making a decision!
Mind blanks and tumbling seem his new religion?

Appointment with the can’t test him yet, optician,
Cataract ops first to correct his vision.
Same with his local dentician…
Good job, he hasn’t got a cosmetician! (Haha!)

Small print from the NHS and bank in unison…
This means letters and texts have little comprehension,
Causing the lad even more worry and tension,
He really needs looking at by a diagnostician!

He drew his fretting to the attention of the warden,
Feeling embarrassed, to him begging, is alien…
Warden Deana arrived for a helping me out session,
Who arranged transport for me? My thanks and veneration!.

Then, he felt cared for and cheerier, no question!
So, time to fret over other things, like his fundoplication,
shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, Little Inchies Fungal lesion…
And the Cataracts forthcoming double operation…
Hid new rear-end boils, a painful conglomeration…
Also, Inchcock’s ear-holes blockage and tintinnabulation…
Worry about his glaucoma and banks documentation,
Not to mention his bank accounts dwindling emancipation!

Deana was his Carpathia, saving lives on the Titanic,
Although Inchie still looks like he’s going brassic…
Her help today was something of a tonic…
His life no longer seemed so chronic!

He even started whistling, although not acoustic,
It’s never been his most vital attribute, singing…
Then again, he’s always been gently altruistic,
Soft and daft as a brush from a yearling…

Inchcock’s Educationing

He missed out on schooling and educationing.
He’s never grasped algebra, geometry or arithmetic,
Yet he’s always had a yearning, desire for learning…
As a lad, he’d double pneumonia, constantly sick…
I don’t know how he ever made a living?
He was well-known as a bit of a schmendrick!
Always getting beaten up or something…
Mother ever being taken down to local nick…
He was spotty, with the littlest ever ding-a-ling…
He took a lot of verbal and physical stick,
So it didn’t bother him that he couldn’t sing.

He coped with thumps and insults from many a bully?
He was a whimp who never answered aggressively…
He plodded on, hiding from being treated abusively…
There was little he ever achieved, ruefully…
Scared of water, he played hooky every Thursday…

That was the swimming lesson day, nobody noticed…
For two years of playing hooky, he was not missed,
Dad took him to the fair and visited a hypnotist…
I think it should have been to a psychiatrist,
The 11-plus, Mummy was on the run, so that he missed,
In meaningless employment, he languished,
But he grew up the shabbiest; he became a motorcyclist!
When old enough, he became an alcoholic, always pissed!
Oddly enough, it’s similar now… he’s still not missed,
He wears protection pants; he’s pissed at always pissing!

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Aha, got some photos uploaded!

I believe this was Wednesday’s nosh. Of microwave veggie sausages, disappointing Icelands crispy chips (That weren’t), and red and orange tomatoes. Not too bad a plateful. Taste: 6.6/10.

Wednesday’s sunset. I’m finding it hard to stay up for the later evenings now the clocks have been forwarded (I’ve even got all on mine done now… Haha!) Variations on a theme, I’m calling it.

Thursday morning rising.

Wen to make a brew of Glengettie. And I spotted from the kitchenette window the rather heavy rain that was raining down,

I took this shot through the narrow bottom pane of glass, camera up against the window. Gave it a different aspect… which reminded me of Grizelda (Slight movement in the lower regions).

Took the last two a few hours later on Thursday.

Incidentally, at this point, I took my eleventh wee-wee of the morning. Cor, blimey!

Three more wee-wees and an hour or so later, I went to mash the second mug (Thompsons’ Punjana this time) of tea. I snapped this one of the houses in front of the tower block.

I must say, it came out reasonably well. An accurate representation of the local dwelling at the front of Woodthorpe Court flats.

The rain was a lot lighter at last, as it shimmers on the roadway of what I think is Elmswood Gardens… a sort of modern-day Coronation Street… perhaps not!

Afternoon Chestnut Way ends car park investigation. The parkers, the red-van-man, continued with his fear of white guidelines for parking between, then I went to the kitchenette to assess the choice of vehicle colours.

The evening Carer arrived, treats were offered. Got ready to get my head down and took what I guesstimate as my 24th wee-wee of the day. Hope things calm down soon!

TTFN.

Inchcock Today: Diary with Tips in Ode

INCHCOCK TODAY

Morning Thoughts – In Ode

Tips & Advice for Whippersnappers

It’s not always good to be counterrevolutionary,
Or eat too many cakes, biscuits and confectionary,
Even when they are freebies, stolen or complimentary,
You can get CBD from an apothecary, but not for free!
Boots sell sugar-free cakes, chewing gum and toffee!

Don’t skimp on your health, even on dentistry…
It will hurt and cost, don’t be disillusionary…
You can get pain-killers, co-codamol from a dispensary,
You must obtain a job; this is elementary…
To avoid ending up broke and eleemosynary!

Avoid gangs, violence, and drugs, which seem customary…
For youths who end up injured or dead, sanguinarily…
Not that all young men think this is statutory…
Many, well, a few, the odd one, will live crime-free…
Sixty-five per cent or so will go to prison, you see!

This advice-ode is not meant to be a shockumentary,
Its advice is to avoid overuse of your Rosary…
Luckily for you, we have a cost-counting judiciary…
So drug-taking, muggings, don’t mean putting you away,
It costs too much to lock you up for more than a day!

The exception is murdering someone, to prison, you go away,
You’ll not worry about the cost of living, which is so inflationary…
A free Doctor inside, should you go into insanity!
Takes me weeks to get an appointment for the surgery!
A 20-year sentence, even if you’re a murdering mercenary!

You can get by the parole board with lies and trickery,
Being free within 6 years is not so extraordinary,
They’ll pay your rent, you’ll be probationary…
You can kill again, perhaps a mother and baby?
Get out again, sell your story for a documentary?

But let’s not be gloomy; think of the non-offenders,
Who cannot afford to go out on benders…
And don’t attack customers or bartenders,
They may be unemployed, clerks or builders…
Struggling to live and pay their bills, the poor bleeders!

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Wednesday 6th April 2020

04:00hrs: I stirred to life without any jumping or jerking. Most importantly, mental-healthwise, not a sign of the Thought-Storms! I made my way to the wet room for ablutions and an urgent feeling for a wee-wee.

I took the half-full NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) with me for emptying, cleaning and disinfecting. Not an easy job, but I’m using Metal Mickey to get there. But no problems were encountered! Tipped out the contents, rinsed and washed the bucket, and put some Dettol disinfectant in it.

I started to get the nasal cleaning done and had to make a slight change of plans…

It was a close call! Despite there being no rumblings or squelching from the innards to warn me, the movement began before I’d got my bottom on the plastic! Messy! Watery, splashed all over me and the WC! Start to a sudden finish in less than 30-seconds, I reckon! The cleaning up afterwards took a lot longer. Tsk!.

Back to the wash and brush up sessioning. The teeth cleaning went okay. Then that danger zone, shaving, was started. I thought it had gone well. But when I was starting on Little Inchie and Harold’s Haemorrhoids, I caught a reflection in the shaving mirror. I wished I’d taken the camera in now. Tiny trickles of blood down from the neck and chin area, onto my chest and man-breasts. Hehehe!

I got the lesion, piles and neck sorted out rather quickly too! It took ages, and I had pieces of paper towel all over me, but they eventually stopped leaking. These tiny shaving cuts don’t seem to respond to the aftershave as much as the larger ones.

I got the day clothes on, and feeling refreshed, I hobbled back to the kitchen to get the kettle on…

Humph! I had to hasten back to the wet room to utilise the Throne again! This evacuation was, what’s the word? A sort of follow-through; far less content and almost entirely liquid. More cleaning up was required.

Trotsky Terence was now in complete charge of any rear-end passings from the innards. This called for a dose of the Galpharm to be taken with the brew of Glengettie! Which I took the next thing.

Another flipping wee-wee, short and sharp again. These came all day long, so much so that Little Inchies Fungal Lesion started bleeding later on. I don’t think I’ve wee-weed so much before. Bladder and Bowels have been upset somehow?

☑ I got the Sphygmomanometer out and took the Blood Pressure readings. Sys 144, DIA 71, which was in the High Blood Pressure red, only just. It was lower than it’s been for a few days now.

☑ The body temperature was so close to target again. It has been so good for the last 3-4 days. Why? Not complaining. I just wish I knew what I’d done right, so next time it drops, I can do it again.

I got the Tuesday blog updated and sent it off to WordPress. Emailed the link. Then, I Pinterested some photographs. Just starting the WP comments, and Carer Richard arrived. He was looking a bit better than yesterday. He gave me a few minutes of chinwagging, which I appreciated. Especially as I could see how tired the lad was.

After Richard had departed, I went back to the WP Comments. Next, onto Facebooking. Then…

Dizzy Dennis arrived, and so much so, my mind got fogged. I worked (I think), on this blog for several hours, having great difficulty getting the photos to upload again.

Concentrating was hard enough as it was, but the wee-wees increased in frequency in the afternoon, and this really got to me. I was struggling with all the breaks I had to take. Things were taking ages as I had at times to work out where I was before the weeing! Grrr!

I went through to get the oven on in readiness for the meal making, and the view was staggering. I do love those puffer clouds!

Night Carer. Food. Horrible sleep.

Can’t get photos to load at all.

Fed-Up!

Inchcock Today: Tues 5th April 2022 – Introductory Ode!

Inchcock Today

Introductory Ode!

All Inchies’ plans, hopes, desires get obliterable,
All of the wishes and prayers fade; it’s unfixable…
In a crowd, he’s always the one that’s unnoticeable,
Thought-Storms, wild ideas become pestilential…
His handwriting is now virtually untranslatable,
Voices, alarms, so many to Inchie are unhearable,
Problems are increasing… not many are solvable,
Friendships, chinwags are all uncultivatable,
As seeing lip-reading with Cataracts is not doable…
Vascular Dementia Doreen has ruined the potential…
To do anything that is enjoyable or cherishable!

Inchie should get a medal for being so confusable…
He’s given up socialising, he’s no longer compatible,
Inchies depressions are no longer confineable,
Hell, they are not even logical or describable…
He tries to talk seriously, his views are uninfluential,
Inchies common sense is turning surreal,
His neurotransmitters are no longer connectable…
To the brain; so too falls and shakes he is liable…
But hopes of a cure are almost non-existent… Sniffle!

Yet he can have hopes, some of them substantial,
But why he bothers is just unanswerable…
Will he feel better when his eyes are done; its arguable,
Cataracts, Glaucoma Saccades, are treatable…
But will Inchy love long enough? Life’s a raffle…
For 25 years now, he’s been totally tea-total,
He never thought he’d persist and be capable,
See? Summat he got right is detectable!

On past City & QMC visits, he became reflectable,
Hoping those he awaits will not be fatal…
He’s waiting on dates of five procedures at the hospital,
Will soon come about and be arrangeable,
But he’s not too hopeful and not getting flappable…
He’s more worried about the logistics; will he be able…
Which can do him no good and be detrimental…
That’s another thing he needs, treatment dental!

He fears arranging things transportational…
A carer to stay with him, which’d be pleasurable,
After the 3 procedures, stay for 24hrs – is this possible?
What’s the procedure: is it cost credible?
I don’t know why I wrote this; it’s grammatically unpublishable?

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

Tues 5th April 2022

03:30hrs: The now, usual for the last four mornings anyway, jumping awake to the tormenting sounds of the Thought-Storms, driving me into instant confusion, began.

I reckon the storm lasted for about three minutes, then faded fast. No idea why, but happy about it!

Even getting out of the c1966 recliner and up to catch my balance was easy-peasy! Three-limps with Metal Mickey to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket) and took another reluctant wee-wee. Without any PM (Pre-Micturitional) or CM (Cessational Micturitional) dribbling. Things looked hopeful to me for a better day in the offing? Until…

I soon learnt that Peripheral Neuropathy Pete had replaced the Thought-Storm as the primary ailment. Although, right Cartilage Cathy was assisting in making hobbling a smidge difficult. But I’m not complaining; this knee pain and wobbling leg were a pleasure to put up with compared to yesterday morning’s Dracula Depression. Yes, I was feeling much better already!

Emptied, cleaned and disinfected the bucket and had a wash of sorts. Then, returned the NWWB to its handily placed position. Just in case things change with the bladder, off to the kitchen.

The view from the kitchenette window was very similar to yesterday’s beautiful picture.

I took this photograph. Even if it looked like yesterday.

As I opened the window, the wind caught me out. I moved a little with the camera and knocked over the knife block! I managed to catch it without any harm or injury, and only one knife fell out of the block! I was trying not to get into a Smug-Mode, as history has taught me that doing that can prove almost fatal! At minimal a foretaster of something else going wrong, at least! I made up two waste bags and placed them near the door. Got the kettle on and made a brew of JS Extra Strong tea. And off to get the computer going.

I kept getting messages telling me to put a disc in the F: drive, which had been there all along. The SD card reader refused to react again. So I left the card in to see if it would later on. I occasionally responded by giving the SD card a soft jingle – but it made no difference. Hey-ho!

Carer Richard arrived. He soon got me sorted with the medications, alarm-alert battery checks and looked at the supply of drugs in the drawer. He had to shoot off. He gave me a bit of a natter, though, bless him. He didn’t look too good this morning. Hope he’s going to be alright.

After updating yesterday’s blog for a while, I made another brew. Glengettie this time, and I tried the new ‘Just Milk’ in it again.

I’ve no idea if anything in it is different to normal semi-skimmed milk; the writing is too tiny for Cataract Kathleen to make it out. But I have to say that it lets the flavour of the tea come through without masking it, better than any other milk I’ve tried. As I got back to updating the blog…

The need for the Porcelain Throne interrupted me. As I casually got up and grabbed Metal-Mickey, the urgency of the need snowballed, and it ended up with just making it in time, after a panic, rush and quick hobble! Hahaha!

Not exactly as smooth as silk, and it was accompanied by different pains areas this time, despite the evacuation being semi-soft. All over in about a minute! No bleeding, stinging or hurting from Harold’s Haemorrhoids either. As I was cleaning up after the event. I realised that it may well be my having a second vegetable meal in three days that made things uncomfortable and nearly caught me out? Back to chips and a pastie with tomatoes tonight!

Made another brew, Thompsons Punjana this time. Oh, I am spoilt for choices with great tasting teas! My best four are, from the top: Glengettie, Thompsons Punjana, Co-op 99 and JS Extra Strong Brown Label. But there is little between them. All great!

Made a restart on the updating of yesterday’s blog. At long last, I got it done and posted it off to WordPress.

Sphygmomanometerisationing began. The Boots machine returned slightly better figures this morning. The SYS has gone down from 169, 161, 159 and now to 157. My blood pressure is going in the right direction! And the body temperature is so very nearly on target again, at 34.8°c. Good!

Back to the wet room, no waiting this time, first songs and I was off. Hehe! Bubbly is one word to describe the evacuation this time. Almost frothy? Not a lot, no bleeding and no pain!

I replied to some Emails… well, the one. Hehe! I did some Facebooking catch-up. Starting the WP Reader viewing and…

Mr Nice, from the flat above, launched into some clanging about.

I spent a long time trying to get this post started. The concentration did a runner, and so many mistakes were made and had to be found and corrected. I imagine I’ve missed some; there were that many! The top Ode cost me a few hours of disheartening faffling about.

It was well into the afternoon when I got up to here with the scripturising. I like that word; I expected Grammarly to tell me it was spelt wrong. Oh, sod it, it just told me belatedly!

Better get some nosh sorted out then.

Took a photo of the Chestnut Way end car park. Just to see how red-van-man had parked.

Even with the Cataracts, it caught my eye that the popularity of car colours on the front spaces. Grey, black and white seems to be in fashion here at the towers. Disabled ones, perhaps?

I got the nosh all sorted out. Fishcakes with mushy peas in them, imitation fish sticks, tomatoes and some reasonably decent chips. Dessert and milk roll bread. Rating: 7/10.

Fell asleep watching something or other on the TV. Two hours or so later, ♫ Oh, Susan ♫ chirped from the door chime, and the evening carer arrived. An obviously experienced young chap, not seen him before. Good at the job, sorted the medications and came up with a solution to dropping the tablets and regurgitating without noticing. The Carer suggested taking them one at a time. Good idea, I’ll try that! Thanked him, and off he went.

As I checked around to make sure no taps or lights had been left on and all was safe – I saw the view from the kitchenette window. It was beautiful; I got the Canon and took this photo.

Then, a programme, well, two consecutive ones, were shown on the same channel. I fancied watching them both and got myself settled with a bottle of spring water, the wee-wee bucket nearby, feet up on the chair in readiness to enjoy them. I fell asleep at the first set of adverts and woke up two hours later to catch the finishing credits for the second documentary! Hey-Ho!

Inchcock Today Diary – With Ode

Morning each!

Inchies Morning Ode

Wot a start to the day, confusion, logic had been abducted!
The Thought-Storms rampantness; I was abducted,
Fears and worries abounded, leaving me so abstracted…
I rose to worry more; I was totally distracted!

So many things flooded, but nothing with any merit!
Cataracts, Glaucoma, Saccades, fungal lesion, all did wherrit,
If common sense was a ballot, I’d lose my deposit!
These thoughts were unnice, not in friendship…

I got depression until Carer Richard came…
He was in a rush, he had a limited timeframe,
But listen to me moaning, all the same,
Lots in common, we both have an oversized wame!
Neither of us bothered about profit or gain…
Such a decent sort; I’m so glad he came!

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

INCHCOCK TODAY

Monday 4th April 2022

I sort of burst awake; the Thought Storms were straight at me, not relenting for hours. Shame, guilt, worries etc., flowed into my mind one after the other… Guilt was the predominant emotion, along with a close second for shame! Possibly my worst attack of them ever?

I rose within a minute from the second-hand c1966 recliner, and I took a weak unwilling wee-wee in the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket). Then took it into the wet room to empty and clean and refresh. While in there, I decided to get the ablutions done early.

I think I felt that a shave and shower might free me from the Dracula Depression that had me firmly in its grasp this morning. I fear I didn’t think about the time, so early in the morning and the shower’s noise, and just plodded on unthinkingly. Shame! I’ve never done that before?

I was still not fully engaged in the concentration stakes, taking the jammie bottoms off… I took a tumble backwards… but fear not! I took them off in the hallway (I’m so glad now that I did, too!). Cause I benefited from my back hitting a stack of clothes hanging on the hallway hooks! And took a slow cushioned ride down to the carpet. Hehehe! Although, I didn’t laugh then, until after I had succeeded in getting back up onto my feet.

The teggie-cleaning went fine. The cleaning of the final lesion was no more painful than usual. Then the showering… I realised what time it was as soon I heard noise from the shower unit and felt somewhat culpable. So, I decided a swift shower was in order…

With the rushing about, I hit my head on the power box and carried out a most painful toe-stubbing on the trolley wheel. But I didn’t dwell on these things, for I was in such haste to turn of the power and noise it was making. Then I got around to doing the shaving…

Which turned out to be a rather colourful event… blood red!

There were no nasty nicks… but countless tiny ones all over the double-chin and neck! Unless there are more that I can’t see. Hehe!

But I knew the solution and had a bottle located nearby. But I managed to drop it, and it landed on the floor via the right foot! Also, the bottle did not break! The Brut aftershave was liberally used to stop the bleeding a little. It’s suitable for this job, it stings a bit, but it works!

Then, I turned my attention to medicationalisationings. Little Inchies fungal lesion… I got that out of the way first cause there was never any doubt it would be the most painful. And it was!

After cleaning, Harold’s Haemorrhoids were given an expensive but oh, so cooling covering of Germoloid ointment.

Then the eye drops were carefully and meticulously put in the Saccades suffering right eye. I missed, and the brown liquid ran down the cheek through the moustache and into the mouth. Tsk!

Put the olive oil into the ear canals. And fought to get the socks on, waiting to put a second lot of oil in. I’m supposed to wait for ten minutes in between each application. I didn’t use Sock-Glide-Glenda today. Not that I’m afraid of injury or sick of getting bruises and welts from the damned plastic covered, metal monstrosity of a sock glide, of course.

Did the second oiling of the ear holes. Nae, bother there.

Then did the nasal clearing.

Then I got the manufactured by ZDEAC Daguan Electrical Appliance (Zhongshan Company Ltd) in Guangdong, Sphygmomanometer, to do the Blood Pressure. It had gone down a lot, but a smidge high still, in the red zone, but not by a lot. The body temperature was pleasing at 34.6°c. I think the pulse was 71 bpm. I can’t read it in this photo. Not one of the betterer efforts.

Went to make a brew of Glengettie. The rain was still coming down in torrents.

Carer Richard arrived, in a bit of a hurry, as he had an extra call to make. While he was sorting the medications out, stock wise, I got a message on the phone from Iceland, telling me the delivery was on its way…

It seems I’ve done it again… made a right cock-up. I was sure I’d ordered this for the following Monday? I got a bit hot under the collar with myself about getting things wrong again! I told Richard quickly about m morning so far, and he said he could see the blood on my neck from the shaving farce. He had to fly, taking the waste bags to the chute with him on the way for me. Bless him.

After he’d gone, I seemed to calm down and went into ‘Just accept things’ mode. Sort of que sera, sera. Got on the computer and found the photo of the nosh last night that I could not get to load was with those the reader let me this morning, I think.

Two out of date (only just) desserts, a banana (going soft), bacon two days out of date, tomatoes and some Harry Ramsdens chips that were delightful. Rating: 702/10.

Then, the Iceland delivery arrived. No substitutes either! Hurrah! Some more of the excellent chips, a big bag too. Gastro fishcakes that were on offer if one bought three boxes and mug here did, three with smoked haddock in them and three with mushy peas in them – as the same price? Noughat flavoured iced lollies and a box of beef and black bean sauce in this top picture.

Mushrooms, microwave veg sausages, and some pasties here. I used some mushrooms to go in today’s potato and leek, erm er… whatchamacallit? Stew, I suppose, or thick soup?

Getting things to fit in the fridge was a work of art and meant a lot of hard work and throwing out some items to make room for the new stuff. I doubt I could get a matchbox in there now, not that I want to, of course. It is fuller than it’s ever been! I even took the fishcakes out of their box to get them in the freezer and other things, as you can see.

On the other hand, the fridge, after storing everything away, seems to be able to accommodate more foodstuffs, still?

Back to the wet room, hoping for an easy evacuation like yesterday was, it was almost a pleasure… But no! A reversal of fortunes, I’m afraid. Tough as nuts, firm but not rock-hard, plenty of plasma-like liquid and a smidgeon of blood. You can’t win ’em all! Washed and off to the kitchenette.

Where I got the leeks and potatoes cut up and in the pan. Then to the computer to finish off yesterday’s blog. Which I did and posted to WP. Then answered and made some comments on WordPress. Replied to Lovely HRH Lisa’s Email. I Managed to get some more photos loaded.

Facebooking for a while, then went to season the leeks & spuds. 

Diced some mushrooms, water chestnuts, and tomatoes, and into the pan they went. Adding and tasting after each addition; basil, tom puree, light soy sauce, Henderson’s relish, spirit vinegar, liquid sea salt and veg seasoning cubes. On a low light, and I kept going in to stir it.

Made a start on this blog; it’s getting late now. Compared to this morning, I’m rather chirpy… not happy, not content, yet glad to be free of the dark gloom of depression.

♫ Oh, Susana ♫ rang from the door chime. It was Josie returning the things from her Sunday lunch. She said she enjoyed the leek and potato chilli.

I got the veg chill served up. Settled to watch some TV while I ate the delightfully tasty meal. I ate it all, which bodes of Porcelain Throne action in the morning… Oh, dearie me, yes! Taste: 8/10.

I then proceeded to fall asleep with the tray with emptied dish, spoon, jelly pot and a few slices of uneaten bread on my knee.

An hour or so later, I woke without the tray with the emptied dish, spoon, jelly pot, and a few slices of uneaten bread on my knee. They had fallen on the floor, creating a piece of modern art. Sorry I didn’t photo it now!

It took me a while to get it cleaned up. I made two bottles of flavoured spring water and then got down in the recliner again to try to watch the TV once more.

♫ Oh, Susana ♫ rang from the door chime. It was the evening, Carer. Who got the medications sorted post haste. The gal took the waste bags with her as she departed. Bless her. Bade a farewell, and I got back down in the c1968 recliner.

I thought I may struggle to get back to sleep after nodding off earlier. Bearing in mind that it took me hours to nod off for the last two nights. No problem! Zzz! But it was a short session.

Inchcock Today: Diary Sunday 3rd April 2020

Sunday 3rd April 2020

Inchcock’s Morning Thoughts – In Ode

Hospitals say I’ve got deficiencies, to see an immunopathologist,
Although the second letter used the word, aetiologist…
I’m supposing there’s something here that I missed?
With the eye problems and my being deaf, words vanish…
Confusion, and muddleheadedness, are never vanquished!
Now, with life about to be ended, finally extinguished…

I can’t really say that life is about to be finished…
I’m still waiting for it to start; my hopes diminished…
I could do with my brain rebooted or refurbished…
So long ago now, my confidence vanished,
Never to return or to be re-established,
All through school, at the bottom, I languished…
My hopes and plans that I once so cherished…
Remain vaguely in memory, but they’ve been so malnourished!

——————————————–

03:30hrs: I jumped awake, thinking; I think out loud, “Huh, sod it!” Not a regular awakening tone at all. But I stirred in a mood that is hard to explain… I don’t believe that I was depressed as such. Resigned to loneliness, failure, and ready for whatever fate will befall me… nay, I was expecting it to! Yes, a resignation reigned… not with imperturbability, rather hang-dogged self-annoying deference, acquiescence, almost docility… submission to whatever fate is to bring to me…

Blimey, that read as a bit deep when I read it back? Did I write that?

As I was hauling my elephantine-stomached body from the c1966 recliner, I diverted to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket).

The evacuation was a reversal of those of the last three days. Gone were the torrents and splash-backing, to be replaced with pathetic, painful, having to be forced tinkling… and yet a wide spray was produced!

To my benefit, for the first time in a few days, Little Inchies Fungal Lesion had not been bleeding! Emptied, cleaned and disinfected the bucket. Made a brew of JS Extra Strong tea and got onto the computer.

Which initially prevented me from loading the photographs yet again. It must have cost me two hours to get it to accept them! Bet it’ll be a kerfuffle trying to get some on later! I just wish I knew how I’d done it.

I went to make a Glengettie brew, and I did my bestest to get some shots of the twinkling lights of the early morning view from the kitchenette. But none of the three images looked right to me.

I found this confusing. Bearing in mind my eyes cataracts, glaucoma and saccades, how come I saw the view better than the Canon camera did? Or am I missing something thanks to Doreen here?

This last one was so pretty with no clouds on the horizon, and the lights were not strong enough to bother Cataract Kathleen. Yet they didn’t show up well at all?

I got the photos on the computer, and I started prepping Josies’ meal. Got some potatoes cubed and opened the tin of peas ready in advance. Too early to put any heat on. Just in case I forget.

Back to the computer, and I got this from last night on here. It was much better tasting than I thought it might be for a vegetarian nosh. Taste Rating: 8/10! Better late than never.

Did some Faffling about on the computer for an hour or two. Went to make another brew, Thompsons Punjana; this time, I’ve not had any for a while.

I got Josie’s saucepan on low heat and stirred in the sliced water chestnuts. Got out more things that would be needed for the meal and put the teats all together in the fridge so I’d hopefully not forget anything when it came to putting my toque on. Haha! Cleaned the mess I’d made in the kitchen and went back to the computer…

It’s flabbergasting how little progress I’m made with the blog updating after several hours.

Herbert launched into his weekend symphony of clattering s and banging. And I was summoned to the wet room…

Blimus! It was easier than yesterday! No joking, although I did find it humorous what took place. The innards indicated that the evacuation was going to take a while, and the torpedo was going to be a hard one.

Got the crossword book out and got into it on puzzle 122. There were just two more clues to do… and I got one of them, and being as I’d been failing to finish this one. Huh!

I cheated on the last one, making cheats for this grid only two! Then it dawned on me that the evacuation was all done! I was so deep into the puzzling and didn’t realise! No pain, no blood either! Washed up, got a new jumper on, and felt boosted by that evacuations. I’m surprised, of course, but I think finishing crossword number 122 after several months helped. Hahaha!

The Carer arrived and got me sorted out. Finally, I got the Ode blog posted, then the Diary one.

Today the Blood Pressure SYS was still high, but far less than yesterday. The Pulse was okay. Also, the DIA was down too.

My body temperature was much higher at last, at 34.9°c. Good!

Did Facebooking, WP Comments. WP Reader. Then searched for copy & paste icons but found none I wanted.

Went to make Josie’s nosh served up and sorted on the tray. The kitchen clock told me I needed to get a move on to be done in time.

My wristwatch told me I had plenty of time. I checked on the computer. The kitchen clock had gained fifteen minutes?

Mr Pleasantness is giving it some hammer today.

The computer card reader is not working at all now. This could be the end of photographing for poor, sad, Inchcock on this computer?

Evening Carer arrived, Anne or Ann. Lovely lady.

Sweet Morpheus denied me nodding off for hours. Humph!

Darned Sundays!

Inchcock Today: Alto-Ego’s Confessions In Ode

Sunday 3rd April 2020

Inchcock’s Confessions In Ode

Written By Alto-Ego Inchie!

Ode to this blogger, he’s a harmless old bugger,
With an awareness of life that gets floppier,
A self-hatred that grows and gets klutzier,
And a body, getting ever fleshier and wobblier!
A memory that is no longer a memory…
A brain that adopts ideas much loonier!

A cancerous bladder, getting ever leakier!
A sex drive that gets measlier and measlier…
Dead as a dodo, really; even his memories are foggier!
Bending downs is not easy; now he’s got paunchier,
He could do with a hearing-aids amplifier…
Today, his many wee-wees were a lot splashier?

His sanity and logic are much less secure…
His cataract and glaucoma eyes, his to endure,
No signs yet of any operations, that’s for sure!
He doesn’t believe he’ll live long enough for a cure…
He’s searched to find someone he can nouriture…
But he’s given up now; why? He’s not sure…

Mind you, he’s not looking to arrive at his cloture…
That’ll have to wait a bit, his final sepulture!
For a while, at least, though, life gets squalider…
Inchcock’s never been tops or an orchestrator…
Although he was once a bus conductor…
There’s one thing that would give him pleasure!

This’s important to him… before his foreclosure,
He doesn’t want to be richer or shrewder…
But summat, that goes against his very being & culture…
Not experienced before, it will put him in rapture!
To get something right, just once – before his departure!

Part of the Inchies Make Them Laugh-In-Ode Series

Inchcock Today: Saturday 2nd April 2022

02:30hrs: I burst into wakefulness with one heck of a jump. Tired as I was, I could feel the shakes coming via the Peripheral Neuropathy in the feet and toes. There was no pain with them, just an odd, weird sensation of ultra-strong tingling. That would undoubtedly be the neurotransmitter’s nerve-ends trying to get a message to the brain but failing. There is a chance that of they succeed later, the pain will then be felt then. This had happened before many times. Hahaha! I nodded and woke repeatedly; it seemed like every ten minutes to me.

Hehe! 03:35hrs: I was reluctant to get up again… but the need for a wee-wee forced me into action. I disentangled my flobby-bellied body from the second-hand, c1966 recliner! I caught my balance and wobbled over to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) and got a surprise. The evacuation was short but relatively intense. What caught me out was the amount of PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling). I must have been standing there for some minutes, waiting for the PMAD to stop. It must have been three times the amount of that the wee-weeing passed? With the gentle encouragement, I was giving to urge things along. Unfortunately, Little Inchies Fungal Lesion started bleeding! You didn’t need to know that did you? Sorry!

Made a Brew of Glengettie, had another PMAD ridden wee-wee, washed and got on the computer. I found this shot of last night’s incredible short sunset. I tried to load the photos, and the reader let me!

Then, I went onto the WordPress comments section. Next, the WP Reader, not many new posts on?

05:15hrs: Off to the wet room. What a magical, smooth, almost pain-free, clean evacuation that was! I’ve not had such a pleasant movement for months! Grrreat! It may sound an odd thing to say, but it was a genuine relief and pleasure!

Celebrated with another mug of tea and went back to the computer. To update, post the Friday blog, which didn’t take long with no photos to use. Grumph! But a least I got a few on of today. Phew!

Made a start on this blog. Had to stop due to Dementia Doreen and me, forgetting we’d not done the health Checks – So we did them!

Started with the Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer. Try saying that when you’ve had a few! Hahaha! Even closer to the target figure of 35°c this time, Good!

Then the Boot’s Sphygmomanometer, which was made by ZDEAC (Zhongshan Daguan Electrical Appliance Company Ltd) in Guangdong, China.

This one was not such a good result; the blood pressure was a smidge high again. Well, a fair bit high, really, methinks.

The Pulse at 77 bpm wasn’t bad at all.

The site said mine should be 74 to 102 beats per minute, which was a good result.

Herbert kept me aware of his presence throughout the morning. I suppose the odd thud, clunk and tap-tapping, so I don’t get bored. Hehe! His better points are his being standoffish, antisocial, smarmy, and ignoring greetings when one says, Hello, or are you keeping well?

I took a shot of red-van-man’s parking on Chestnut Way, broom the balcony. Brr! I took it through the glass, as it was pretty nippy out there now.

I made a start on this blog, and within minutes the Morrison Delivery arrived. Left the parcels in the doorway for me, and off they trotted.

As I was about to take the parcels through to the kitchenette…

The morning carer arrived, the first time she’s been to do me. She helped me move the packages into the kitchen. A professional carer. Name of Ann, or Anne. She got the medicines’ doses sorted correctly, and although she was just starting her shift (I asked), Anne gave me a couple of minutes to chinwag. ♥.

I got the barfs opened and sorted out the many items I’d purchased. Two things were unavailable, the text message said, but I didn’t know what they were. Found out later it was drink treats and cakes, so no bother over that, then.

The Lacto-free whole milk, jelly and custard pots and mini ice-cream suckers were put away in the fridge and freezer. Note that they delivered some potatoes and leek stew packs – they will be consumed this evening, I hopeth. I cut up some more potatoes to be added then to the leeks. A drop of soy, Worcester sauce and some Bisto. I’m planning to add a can of peas later on. The bottled mineral water, orange jellies, liquid soap, bleach, crispy fried onions, and Germolene were put away. As for the tomatoes, they were found to be Spanish, so I’m not too hopeful about putting them in the leek and potatoes… they are bound to taste bitter. Then I took the waste from the delivery and prepping out to the rubbish shute in the lift lobby. No injuries to report!

Got back on with updating this blog, and Sister Jane rang me. We had a good chinwag, which I enjoyed muchly. Then I got the pots and leeks with seasoning into the large pan.

Back on the computer to work on this blog. Oh, I am good! Well, pretty fair… not too bad. Crap really!

Cleaned the kitchenette surfaces, and made a mug of Co-op 99 tea.

I looked up at the wonderfully fresh-looking clouds in the sky. And had a few minutes of pareidoliaing. I saw an animal head in the first shot, I forgot what I saw in the second, Tsk! And two animals in the third photographicalisation.

I can only find the top one at the moment, though.

An hour or so later, I checked on the potato & leeks concoction. Had a taste, and thought it was coming along nicely. Still got to add the peas later, and am doubtful about putting the Spanish tomatoes in… Ah, I’ll go and have a taste of one, then I’ll know if they are worth the bother tastewise. Back in a bit…

I’m back. They’ll do. I added the peas and sliced some tomatoes into the mix.

SD Reader not working again. But Herbert was, clank, thud, tap-tap, thud.

The evening carer arrived, I’d just fallen asleep watching some rubbish on the TV. There is a film on later, the odds of my staying awake are minimal. (I hope). A good job she came, cause I’d left the leek and potatoes on the heat, cooking.

Tablets, injections, and medicines were soon sorted. No treat accepted, and off the Carer went, taking the black bag to the chute for me, bless her.

Got the nosh sorted and consumed. Took a photo of the evening sunset such as it was. Can’t get them on the system yet, I’ll try again in the morning.

TTFN.

Inchcock Today: Diary Friday 1st April 2022

Friday 1st April 2022

Morning Ode

Mankind, indeed all tellurians are in a schemozzle…
Humans can kill if they’re overcharged for Chipotle,
Fish stocks are dwindling, mot in good fettle…
Putin attacks Ukraine… not very subtle…
Who can stop him? No one’s got the bottle,
Nor the capability, no military muscle…
This is not just an unneighbourly tussle!
On the brink of the final world war… hopes frizzle…
The outcome will have no one to dazzle…
Hell, for Putin, would be no one left to go shooting!

Except for his own countrymen, that was tried by Stalin!
It made the world scared of Russia, of even talking…
As Putin eyes up the world with its Nations tottering…
From Putin, there’s no schnorring or flimflamming…
Civilians in the Ukraine, Russia, Putin is killing…
For Europe he’ll is surely intent… he’s coming!
The West isn’t thinking, it’s farting about tinkering…
What Vodka should our politicians be drinking?
As our economies dwindle, rapidly shrinking…
When will it come? That’s what I’m thinking…
Can no one else see it? That’s staggering!

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

04:30hrs: Up for a wee-wee, a nasty sprinkling all over one. I had to get the jammies in soak afterwards, with liquid Dettol disinfectant. Got a wah and made a brew of Glengettie.

Onto the computer to finalise yesterday’s blog. It took me six hours to get it done! A hard mental slog, hindered, mainly by Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and Shaking Shaun. All in force with Dementia Doreen, the brain was a little lackadaisical, to say the least. I was getting angrier with myself every time a cock-up was made or missed.

Carer Richard arrived and sorted the medications and he took the washing and waste bags with him as he departed.

Mr Kind upstairs kicked of, but thankfully, not all day. After finishing the Wed-Thur blog, I did the ablutions and Porcelain Throne Rock hard again!, and made a brew of Glengettie…

Crap! The card reader had let me get the last posts’ pictures on. But now, it was now refusing to recognise the same car reader it had earlier in the morning! So, no point in me taking any more photos until I can use them! Gragnangles! I lost even more hours in failed attempts to get the bloody thing to work.

As of 16;20hrs, I’d had no luck at all.

Started again.

I gave up and started to make a meal. Boy was I pissed off! I turned everything off, to try again to get photos on later. Harrumph!

Carer Cheeky Charley arrived and got the medications sorted out.

Sweet Morpheus was very reluctant!

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