A bit of a laugh

Inchies News Snippets & Ode Selections – Part 2⅝

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Memories of Inchies Graphicalisationings

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Anti-Parole Boarders Snippet?

Anti-Crime Snippets?

Anti-Crime Snippets?

Anti-Crime Snippets?

Anti-Crime Snippets?

Anti-Crime Snippets?

My Postcode Crimes 2022, I think.

Oh, dearie me!

INCHIES OLD ODES & THOUGHTS

Total Waffle!

GP, in two days?
It took me six weeks to get the last appointment!

Doreen Dementia Ode

Inchies Most Hated – Parole Boarder Ode

Inchies Sad but True Ode

Inchies Other Hatred
LIBERTY-GLOBAL
VIRGIN MEDIA INTERNET FAILURES

ODE TO PUTIN

Inchies bit of this and some of that…
Balderdash,

We end with Inchies most hated group of murderers ODE!

TTFN

Inchcock’s Thought Storms

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

Introduction

His odes, in many ways, are like a zit…

An unwanted ailment, you have to squash it…

Full of pus, staph bacteria, that hurts a bit,

Lost words, replaced with whatchamacallits,

Rhyming is so bad that it can ruin friendships,

Dementia Doreen causing so many errors and blips,

Inchy’s not educated, so he struggles at penmanship…

Now lost his logicality, of which he once had a firm grip!

He dreams of his brain being men mended, maybe, reequipped.

Mental power, dreams, and memory have to the ether slipped…

He tries to battle against Doreen, for long he has schlepped…

But is losing the battle; thus, he is about ready for his crypt.

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His odes, in many ways, are like a zit; yes, I meant zit,

An unwanted ailment, you have to squash it…

Full of pus, staph bacteria, that hurts a bit,

Lost words, replaced with whatchamacallits,

Rhyming is so bad that it can ruin friendships,

Dementia Doreen causing so many errors and blips,

He’s not educated, so he struggles at penmanship…

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

Now lost his logicality, of which he once had a firm grip!

He dreams of his brain being men mended, maybe, reequipped.

Mental power, dreams, and memory have into the ether slipped…

He tries to battle against Doreen, for long he has schlepped…

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

But is losing the battle, thus ready for his crypt

But the business went bust,

And I started to lust…

For a gal with a big bust…

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

I’m prepared, but not too keen, on my upcoming sepulchre,

To be honest, I don’t see it fits into human culture…

Well, I used to be sociable, in fact, I was a campanologer,

Waking folks up Sunday morning… was my main pleasure,

Which I took my time with because it was a pleasure!

 The locals warned me off, bellringing, with a fervour,

So, to avoid a pasting, my bell rang no more…

Anyway, it hurt my arms, then I got a shoulder fracture…

So, I bought a barrow, and became a costermonger,

Giving me so much time watching the sky and pareidolia!?

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Mood Update:

While struggling to get the preceding crap ode done, I got increasingly confused. I may have just posted bits of a Snippet ode wot I did in between today’s efforts. I have to write this stuff on Word, and then I get a spell checker. Then cut and paste into Blogger, where the colour and font size usually changes, and I have to go through it all again, ever correcting! I got a little depressed with things, life etc… I gave up and transferred it to WordPress. It’s a true-life farcicalness with Doreen Dementia!

However, I had a bit of good fortune in taking a tumble while making a brew of Thompson Punjana tea. Cracking my left knee on a cabinet corner as I went down. Everything seemed to change then, outlook and contentment-wise.

 I suddenly gleaned a previously unthought series of thoughts:

① Why am I worrying? The end is nigh, and whatever I do, the Doctor will not accept Doreen Dementia’s existence, so there is no chance in hell of getting any help. ‘Fact!’

② As much as I miss my daily hobbles, walking to the shops, and in the tree copse. I no longer have the ability to take them. ‘Fact’ – You’ll just have to accept the inevitable, Chambers!

③ Walking into things may get less after I’ve had the eyes done. No point in fretting over it, the right eye cataract will take time to work, but there is a good chance I will again be able to do crosswords (not that I was any good at them, Hehe!), Not fret over the other eye being done afterwards. It’ll take a long time ‘Fact’.

④ Should I snuff it before they are done well? Would it matter? Apart from an unknown to me, a battle to get at my valuables from sudden relatives who care… I shall not be around to see it, and I can’t take them with me, (Or, can I?). So, good luck to them. ‘Fact!’

⑤ I tried thinking about happier times… that was not easy. Hehe! But Suzanne Jean Percival came to mind first and foremost, and they really were genuine happy memories. ‘Fact!’

⑥ That made me feel worse when I realised my current position… So quiet here today, even the noisy standoffish, antisocial, smarmy, reticent, toploftical git in the flat above was not making any noise! Loneliness is something that rarely affects me, but it did then. No one visiting. No phone calls, text messages… a sense of isolation. ‘Fact!’

⑦ After I’d cleared up the mess in the kitchen and Phorpain gelled the knee, I made another brew, of Glengettie tea this time, the mood rose… without any reason, nothing had changed, yet suddenly I was ashamed of myself – and self-loathing at my pathetic self-pitying took over.‘ Fact!’

⑧ There are so many others in a worse state than I am. Somehow, although it didn’t cheer me up, my acceptance of things grew. 

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So I got on with this blog’s making.

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

LATE THOUGHT-STORMS!

As a young man, I thought I was a brainiac…
But that was sixty-odd years ago, way back,
I’ve been through periods of wine and Prozac,
Lived in a tent, then moved up to a wooden shack…
Cost of livings to high got to cut back!

I used to believe in Old Moore’s Almanac!
Bought a Robin Reliant, but I wanted a Cadillac…
That had to go because I got the sack,
Others had briefcases, me? A haversack!
I’ve never won the lottery, Monopoly, or blackjack…
Amazon, Facebook, eBay my computer track,
Maybe it’s because I’m a senile maniac?

TTFNski!

Inchcock Today: Rescued Photos

/ Inchie / 16 Comments

Due to Trotsky Terence causing me hassle and pain,
The Porcelain Throne visits happened again & again…
Dementia Doreen made my concentration transmundane,
I couldn’t find the camera, my language became profane,
After hours, the location was successfully ascertained…

Some form of hope, I started to regain…
However, they soon went on the wane…
The camera’s SD card had disappeared again!
I searched for hours… no hopes remain…
Doreen Dementia… a permanent bane!.

On and off for a day, I was frantically searching…
Up and down, my emotions ever lurching…
From never-mind to self-hating…
At times, mentally self-fustigating,
My psychological state… was beyond interpreting!

Leaving no stone unturned, I again started SD card seeking,
No luck, so I sorted out the laundry tub to do the washing…
Found the card in my pyjama top’s pocket; amazing!
So turned my attention to sorting the grazing…

I rather enjoyed this vegetarian noshing,
I found myself doing an awful lot of belching?
Fell asleep, to wake up and extrapolating,
Sorting the world out… hypothesising,
Starting with how to stop the MP’s hornswoggling,
But soon found this was too mind-boggling!

Checked on the plates and pins state…
They looked a lot better today, mate!
Nice, when I find summat to appreciate!
One day, I hope to see a little less weight…
A dream, more than a thing to anticipate!.

Better tend to my mornings ablutioning,
Cleaned the teeth, then on to shaving,
Had an excellent slow, steady session of showering,
Then on to the uncomfortable medicationalisationing…

I dried off, oiled and rinsed each earhole first,
Little Inchies fungal lesion done, with a blood-thirst,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids… painfully the worst!
Eye drops, mainly missing, Tsk! A curse!

Accifaupas dressing, an accidental photographing…
Dropped the camera, no damage, so not too vexing,
So, I took another of me posing…
This one came out to my liking,
Smug-Mode developing!

Found a shot of Ice-cream that’s Vegan…

I added some sprinkles, to it…
It gave the bad tooth some jip!
Amongst the contents are turnip?
I’m not bothered, I loved it!

The Blood pressure was well high…
The Body temperature is nigh on perfect!

Morning Car Park Piccies!

This morning’s waking view,
The Porcelain Throne needed going to…
I hit my shoulder as I was going through…
On the doorframe, I think I said thank you,
To Shaking Shoulder Shirley, too!

The evening dawns, is that the right word?
Not that anyone will be bothered…,
Cause later on,
I took these that outshone…
Nicer coloured, better favoured!
Then this beauty, later on

FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD

And used it to make this super meal

The highlight was the vegan burgers, each eaten
twixt two slices of Milk Roll bread. The fresh
garden peas, tomatoes, and baby new
potatoes tasted excellent!
A pot of jelly & custard, and delightful
lemon mousse, to round it off!
GORGEOUS! Flavour Rating: 8.5/10

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My mentality is being steamrollered,
My aims and intentions are steered,
I lose control, it’s time that I surrendered,
Unless I can get help… my brain mended…
My dreams are black & white, yet multi-coloured.
Ideas, plans destroyed or embroidered…
At their conception, logic was avoided,
Minimal new memories are remembered
Dark thoughts are often harboured…
But shortly, into the ether, they are melted,
Intentions and aims cannot be deciphered…
And I made them, I’m just dumbfounded…
Over nothing, I can get easily flustered,
When aims and fears amass and get clustered…
Which reminds me, I must get some mustard!

Inchcock’s Make Them Laugh in Ode Series

Inchcock Today – Memories Evoked + Odes

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Looking at an old photograph can stir memories, even in some Doreen Dementia suffers, like I am. So here are my initial ruminations of looking at this picture… They may come over as a little out of sync, but one’s thought triggers another. I had to be adding them than before I wrote what I was doing… then I forgot what I had started typing. Sometimes remembering later, begin to correct things, and another unrelated memory pops up… to be forgotten about again. Later on, I got all confused but carried on anyway. Sorry about this.

This now embarrassing, brownie-camera photographicalisation shows the signs of authentic poverty in which I grew up. Although, at the time, I believed we were luckier than some of the residents of Brookfield Place. But not many.

Obviously, I was scrubbed up using carbolic soap. I was redressed into pants that didn’t fit; the crumbling walls on the 1899-built two-up, two-down terraced house make me cringe when I see it now. See that? I was nine house bricks high at the time. Not much taller now!

Having a photo taken was an event in those days. I believe Mr Wright, whose family lived at the end of the small terrace, number 10 (I might be wrong, of course). Mr Wright was the only person nearby who was well off enough to own a camera then and generously took pictures and got them developed and given to those in them. A wonderful man.

Christine. Mr Wright and Jane are on holiday in Mablethorpe! I recall feeding the family dog Rover (No pets were allowed on the caravan site in those days.) each time Mr, Mrs Wright, and daughter Christine went on holiday, taking Sister Jane with them; after Jane returned home, I’d better explain that while I think of it.

A better-off side of the family, with five boys, wanted to adopt Sister Jane. Dad opposed this, the fights started, and it was agreed that Jane would of out to Italy with the family. Which left me thinking, Jane was ‘out there’ having a ball, while I was left with Dad (Mother had done another runner from the police). Had to do the cooking and what cleaning I could family. Clean out and set the fire but did not start it until I saw Dad coming home. He thought it was overspending to make a fie for only one person. Give him his dinner, and get the things ready for the morning in the coal house ready for clearing out and resetting again in the morning. So, the crux of it was; that I was a smidge jealous, thinking that Jane was out there, in the sunshine, wanting for nothing, living the life of Riley… While Jane was ‘over there’ thinking that I was at home, living the life of Riley! Hahaha! In truth, poor Jane was miserable and had it a lot worse than me! She was molested, had to be a maid to the boys… When we found out we were both miserable, we had to laugh. As I understand it, each of the lads, who are now men, has been arrested and found guilty of various nefarious offences. Worra family!

Recollections of the folks living near my beloved Brookfield Place came to mind.

From the left, Sister Janet, Inchcock, Christine Wright, Mrs Wright and Walter. Can’t remember what we were doing or where we were when taking the snap. Either Mr Wright to son Brian would have taken it?

This picture, I do remember having being taken. A Door-knock photographer took it (2/3d a photo 11p in today’s money). Not cheap! The rather distinguished-looking (I don’t know how or why I remembered that?) cameraman said it’s usual to have a girl and boys toy in hand. I recall Jame going up to get her teddy from the bedroom, and I nipped next door to borrow a ball from my mate Jack. On my behalf, returning to have the picture taken. But putting on that forced smile was almost painful for me. Har-har!

A terrible picture of my blonde locks. This brings a scary memory back to me. Often I would be in the backyard. Our house was about eight-foot from a railway viaduct. On the left in the top photo) I would be playing or chopping wood in the backyard and the train; it was a busy line, with Arkwright Street Station, high above the houses. We got goods, commuter and the London Express’s all passing throughout the day and night. The houses shook, the windows rattled, the light swayed…

Yet, they never woke me up or bothered me because I grew up with it. Later, when we moved to Ipswich Circus, it was so quiet that I couldn’t sleep for months! True!

I lost my plot there, didn’t I? Sorry, where was I?…

Oh, yes! In the backyard, a neighbour usually would run at me and start to beat me around the head. This is all genuine! I had to wait until they had stopped, to find out why they were clouting me… had I done something naughty (not unknown), or as it usually was, the hot ashes falling from the trains had set my hair on fire again. (Which, more often than not, was the case)

It’s not surprising that I started losing my hair at 20-years of age?

Christine Wright, in front of her house in Brookfield Place.

Not that Inchcock is creeping out behind her? Hehe!

I’ve no memory of this photograph being taken.

I think this one was taken in Wilford or West Bridgford.

Christine and Janet got me to pretend to be knocked over and lay under the Morris Ten car. Haha!

The next one, I can vaguely remember.

The hosepipe was out in the backyard. Fed through the window from Chrissie’s kitchen tap. It’s the summertime, and someone will get soaked, methinks… I vaguely remember grabbing the hosepipe in the cause of self-protection. When those two got together, there was always a danger of me being injured, embarrassed or molested! In this case, all three. And I got a good soaking, to boot!

♫ Memories are made of these… ♫

My family, as such, were Methodists, Wesleyan,
Dad rarely went to church; Mother was an Aryan…
We soon split up, first off to Sicily, went sister Jane,
Brother Pete joined the army to help keep sane…
Mother ran from the police, again and again…
So it was just Dad and me in the main!

Education and affluence, to me, were strange…
No class, I never heard of a counterpane…
Then, I had no bad habits from which to refrain.
As you’ll read above, I got set on fire by many a train,
I’d never dined out or been on holiday or on a jet plane…
I used to get bad headaches, not a posh migraine…
But life was never dull or mundane!

I soon learned that nothing in life is free or certain!
An outside toilet, in winter it froze up, even the chain!
The only interest in sex came from the Chaplain…
I never went abroad, to Italy, France or Bahrain,
Shopped at jumble sales in search of a bargain…
I was considered weird cause I didn’t like John Wayne!
My searches for romance were all in vain!

My hopes for my future were low and uncertain,
I’d sit in my flat, glumly looking out through the curtain,
Plans and designs were ruined cause of my scatterbrain,
At least I’ll never become part of Britain’s brain drain!
My sanity was fluctuateable and hard to retain…
Timourousness, trepidation, and a cruel self-disdain…
My confidence and self-esteem had been mislain!
Don’t suppose I’ll ever find them again?

Is my Alto-Ego me, or am I?
Why do I even wonder why?
Would I be happier as a troglodyte?
Would I still like Marmite?
I think I’m losing this brain fight…
My last driblets of sanity are taking flight…

I’ve tried to do moral things and not to be profane,
Up to now, I’ve avoided trying out cocaine,
From alcohol, greed and bullying, I abstain,
Yet feel my life is almost transmundane…
Are my thoughts really mine or nongermane?
Shit!… I’ve forgotten what I was going to write!

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Inchcocks Selected Whoopsiedangleplops of the day

/ Inchie / 5 Comments

ONE

SOCK GLIDE-GLENDA

Absolutely!

This morning, I used Sock-Glide-Glenda, rather unwisely,
I felt confident and assured that I could use it injury-free!
I wanted to prove I’ve no need to be nervy…
Sure, that I had the ability, guts, and dexterity!
I thought this task to be just a formality…
Where I got this idea from also confused me!

It was going along pretty well, almost easy peasy!
But my confidence in my abilities turned into nihility…
Stepping out of frame, I lost my feelings of sensitivity,
And tumbled onto Glenda… tempting moribundity!
Scratches, bruises, welts… such a pity…
I soon lost my earlier orotundity!
I really am a liability!


Although the welt is morphing into putrefaction…
Add the bruised on the head for precision,
I came out in fair nick from this Accifauxpas action…
I’ve had no severe reaction…
It just spoils my good looks and beautification!

TWO

The Iceland Food Cometh!

No unavailable substitutes, things looked good,
The driver took the bags to the kitchen…
Thanked him, can of pop given, as I should…
The stomach wounds show no signs of blood…
I’d ordered some beef chunks, priced very good,
Went to get the fodder away as I would…
Then I saw the beef; some pieces looked like wood!
The rest were coloured red, as they should!

Above is the photo I took of one of the packs of need. Some pieces looked like cannabis colours blocks; the others looked fine. Opening up the pack, still in date, the texture of the CBD Hemp looking ones (about 30% of the contents!); was of an entirely different texture to the others? Things got me a little hot under the collar; when I checked the other two trays, they all had the Cannabis coloured chunks in them. I visited the Iceland site, and I checked the email that Iceland had sent…

I tried through the internet and found a page where they said I could email them… Fine, I thought, I’ll do that then… I’d got the details needed and went through a mammoth set of questions to finally get down to the email Iceland section at the bottom… But No! There was a list of reasons for the email, and one had to be selected. Otherwise, it didn’t let me get to the email page. Grumph!

So, I had to try the landline.

Dialled the number, and it was answered quickly… I waited… By a recorded message telling me they were experiencing a large number of calls and spent a few minutes telling me how I could contact them on the web, even recommending that I do that.

But not for long; the recorded message chappie interrupted the kip-the-sods-waiting music, which seemed like every minute. “If you want to know where your delivery is, phone…” Then next time something like – it was hard to hear him) “If you wish to question any charges… ring” – Followed by “A list on all new products re available at ……… .com” I had about ten of these interruptions.

Eventually, I got a real person to talk to. But hearing what she was saying was a nightmare! I answered all the details asked of me. I didn’t know how many pimples I had on my bottom, so I couldn’t answer that one… Hahaha! Only joking!

After only 20 minutes of the call being answered, I thanked her for her help. I’ve no idea why. I hadn’t got the foggiest notion of what was going to happen. But did catch ’email mentioned a minute before she rang off? So anticipate getting one (email) about a refund… or not, if I’ve got it wrong again…

I got this Email shortly after laundry and ironer Esther had gone. She kindly brought me the numbers to ring Amazon about the misleading information about my deliveries. Bless her.

And here we go…

Three

Amazing Amazon Cock Up

They told me as below on the tracker thingamajig. That the Galpharm Capsules would arrive on 20th – 21st April. They were delivered last Thursday 14th April). More of concern, they told me the Throw had been delivered last Saturday? I have not arrived yet! And was originally due on the 23rd of April. Confusion reigns?

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Four

Things started well; I oiled the ears to make them less waxy,
But they were still solid; the oiling failed dismally,
I syringed in water, which worked satisfactorily…
I waited for anything happening, cynically…
The noises from the canals became sort of crackly,
I viewed the treatment as failed – somewhat sceptically!

Nasal clearing, Germoloiding, Germolening… carefully…
All going okay; I Pain Gelled my knees and ankles easily…
Got the eye drops in… well, practically… but woefully…
Some got into the eyes, but with Shaking Shaun’s ability…
I got most of it down my cheek into my mouth, literally!

Then came the Blood Pressure taking…

Then onto the sphygmomanometerisationing,
In other words, the blood pressure taking…
The results lately have been astounding…
The last eight tests, all within a high rating…
But only just, nothing worth worrying about…

Flibbledonkackles! & Spurgledamnations!

Great Balls Of Fire!

Bloody Nora, what a shock!
This made me clench my buttock!
And my bladder wanted to unlock!
Hehehe!
I’ll have to ponder and take stock?
I checked the NHS site, like a shot!

Computer on, I entered details in the NHS, BP chart…
My result was off the scale; I passed an unintentional fart,
But I felt well pretty well, as best I could tell…
Leave it; check again later? Is that smart?
Listen to some music, perhaps some musical art?
Joannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart,
He was only 39 when from this earth he did depart!
I’ll go on the NHS helpline, well, it’s a start…

This message came on the screen after I pressed the ‘Go’ button to see the graph. Automatic response, mayhaps?

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A typical day for an old one like me… ruminations…
Frustrations, Whoopsiedangleplops, abominations,
Lack of socialisation and communications…
Accifauxpas, injury collecting, misread intonations,
The mind’s acute lack of clarity and precision!

Deafness, warping conversations,
Confirmation of hypertension…
Worries about the yobbo’s flat intrusion,
The brain is confused between reality and illusion…
A nasty, Thought-Storm invasion,

But odd things that baffled yet pleased me?
A movement in my loins, the first since 2003!
A yearning to have back my 4×4 Panda Sisley?
I wanted a pan of streaky smoked bacon, crispy…
Needing the dentist to repair my cavity…

Hate: Dementia Doreen, for causing such deficiency,
Denying my once held abilities, from logicality…
Ensuring my confidence less, and other disabilities…
My memories fade, but old ones remain: A malady?
Not knowing what time & day it is, is not an abnormality!

Failed & deferred appointments, like with the audiologist,
A Doctor who I’ve forgotten what she looks like?
The Ophthalmologist, no appointments were missed…
That’s cause I haven’t had one yet, about which I’m pissed!
Three cancellations from the phlebotomist…
Just the one from the immunopathologist,
Four from the Gerontologist, Two for the dentist…
The DVT clinic, four from the neuropathologist…
Could I get help from a psychiatrist or hypnotherapist?
A couple more to put on the cancelled list!
I must stop moaning… I must desist!

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Inchcock; a bad day!

/ Inchie / 12 Comments

Regretfully, today I have got myself in a tangle with the computer, CorelDraw (What a mess I’ve got there!); and the card reader on the computer has still not been mastered to find out a way to get it to recognise the SD cards.

Add these to the ailments Duodenal Donald and Shaking Shoulder Shirley, and they have me beaten. Not to mention Cataract-Kathleen, making things nigh-on impossible for me with the CorelDraw problems. I’m depressed smidge now.

Yesterday I started a graphic for HRH Lisa and Billum. Not as detailed as I wanted it to be, but I hope they get a smile out of it! So I fumbled my way to finishing it, so I had something to blog.

I’ll keep trying to get the photos sorted; a weak effort, sorry.

Inchcock v Alto Inchie – Verbal Battle

/ Inchie / 25 Comments

I was woken with the sounds of Alto blasting in my brain, boy, was he in a pig-of-a-mood! Spurred on by an overnight lack of sleep that had got me in a foul mood, as well! Resolutely, I tried to give him some suitable magniloquence and verbiage back.

Did I succeed? What do you think?

Oy! Dog breath… yer ignorant git…

Erm… er… what?

You’ve not talked to me for days now! Why? Yo losing interest or summat? Can’t argue or question owt? Gerrin’ old? You ought to…

Hang on, hang on… What are you ranting abarght?

You, yer fubuckler, just cause your scared to death, fear of me and I always win the verbalisationing arguments? You’re a lily-livered chicken when it comes to confrontations…

Zzz!

You plastic spastic! You’ve fallen asleep on me?

Alto’s only physical damage he can cause to me came into play. He sent his famously ear-cringing gurgling sound through my head; it is loud, irritating and even painful at times… It worked, and I stirred back into imitation life…

Oh, you gurgling git! Shithead! Can’t you see how tired I am? I got had very little sleep last night…

Good! I’m considering reporting you to the Alto & ID disciplinary committee; falling asleep on an Alto? Anyway, I know you’re knackered and have bad earholes; that’s why I gurgled you! Dumbo!

Oh, dearie me… can’t we have a standard argument without the insults and nastiness? I’m sure other humans who have Altos in attendance are not always getting hassle from them…

Hahaha! No! You don’t understand the intentions of the Alto duties. The opposite of IDs. Being as much bother and bringing as much misery to your allotted human is the basic instructions given to us…

Do you actually know any other Alto’s then?

Yer… we meet up sometimes, usually, when our humans are ill in hospital or summat like that – we ain’t allowed to hassle them then, for some unknown reason…

Ah! So you don’t know it all then? Not so clever after all?

I’m clever enough to know that you have lost interest in your Alto! I must know why…

As I said, you’re not so clever then? It’s simple enough, Alto; I’m so worn out with the physical ailments and no sleep… and admit I had lost interest and was pleased when you gave me a two-day break from your bickering last week…

Rest? You think I wanted you to rest! Oh, no, it was a ploy to regain your awareness of our superiority and dominance; we have to perpetuate and spread the news of our leaders of the significant anthropomorphism, thus confusing our humans even more… diminishing the likes of you, in confidence and…

Hold your horses, you’re not going to confuse me with using big words; I am known as a bit of a sesquipedalian missen... although on this occasion you did beat me… Carry on…

It boils down to me having to keep you on tenterhooks permanently. But if yer going to find wasteful time for sleep, you are not paying me enough attention… now that’s logical innit?

Erm… Do humans need sleep, though? Surely?

Yes, yes, yes… But you are greedy! You’ve had to my knowledge, at least two hours kip last night! Wasteful, mate! You must allow your Alto to address your mind detrimentally at all times…

Oh, great! Nowt to with wot, we were on about, but how do you get nourishment to have survived so long?

Eh?

You know, like we humans need food and sleep. Don’t Altos then?

Oh, no! We get gratification and nourishment each time we get a human going, excited, angry or sobbing their hearts out. Occasionally we may take a sip of your blood… but that’s just so we can locate you in the rare event of you escaping your Alto… I’ve never lost one in over 2000 years…

Did you ever get a famous human allotted to you then?

Oh, aye! I got a chap called Hitler recently. Easy meat, I had him going mad with two years! I almost got Puking Putin; I was down to get him, but you lived too long, and I missed my chance… not that I hold anything against you for that… you overaged, decrepit, uneducated, unsocial sick-loner, ugly, stupid, little-willied, ass fetus! Still, in the land of the witless, you would be King. You’re a ninnyhammer of the highest order, a git with an iron-cross. And you, a guttersnipe, has the nerve to fall asleep when I’m working? You ought to have your testicles torn-off, hung drawn and quartered. You are not worth…

Boy’s, boys… I can stand by no longer… my sweet Angels… Such hatred and so many insults are being bandied about… Is this right? Great ID leader in the ether! Why so, my dearest children?

Erm…

Who the hell are you to get involved, ID? It’s me that’s been insulted…

Indeed, what did you, a self-proclaimed Alto of Alto’s do? Gave back insults and put-downs ten-fold, just because an ignorant human misunderstands?

Wot yo gonna do abarght it then Inchies Id? There’s nowt what you can do to change an Alto you know…

Indeed, there are several things I could actually do to create remorsefulness in you both… but that would bring me down to your level Alto and even lower if I was to lambast a pathetic human.

Erm… what er…

You’re right, Inchcock; who do you think you are to tell us what to do?

Undoubtedly, just by your two’s behaviour, I am a better, kinder, more understanding ID than you are Alto or Inchcock. I intend to have words with you to guide you along the path of righteousness, kindness and compassion… I have to teach as a female form of a spectre, gnomai, phantasm, succubae or plain ID, whichever you chose to brand me with! Through psychoanalysis, educate the part of the mind in which innate instinctive impulses and primary processes are manifest, thus releasing stress… Bear with me, pay attention, and a new opening will appear – full of pleasure and indubitably, a solution to your naughty, unnice, unpleasant ways of communicating within the shared human form will be found. And happiness will replace the bitterness and jealousy you have shared since the human was born… Now listen…

Inchies ID launched into a sleep-inducing marathon lecture for the next three hours. After that, I could no longer contact Alto-Inchy, and I fell asleep.

I hope that Alto-Inchie comes back to see me in the morning – blimey I do!

Inchcock: Diary-Belated Photographicalisations 1.2

/ Inchie / 17 Comments

Including revelations from Inchcock’s past!

Oh, yes! and an Ode, too!

A mixed bag of Moon pictures from the kitchenette window.

I tried both cameras as well. Only the last one was any good. Hehehe! There were plenty of absolute failures taken, though.

Peripheral Neuropathy Pete struck at just the wrong time again! He’s clever at doing that, a cunning ailment indeed! Haha! I was just pouring the boiled water into the mug to make my Glengettie brew!

Memory Prompting old snap!

revelations

If I recall correctly (I sometimes do), this was taken in the back yard of Co-op Grocery store number 118. Arleston Drive, in Wollaton. I started there as Greengrocery Manager. During the happiest working days of my life! Boss, store Manager, Mr Morris. Got up to Assistant Manager of the store… and made a terrible choice, in accepting a job in Beeston, as the Greenfruit – Wet Fish shop manager. I often wondered over the years what would or could have happened career-wise if I’d stayed in Grocery as Mr Morris’ second man. Cause the Greater Nottingham Co-op got a new chairman, who unfortunately oversaw the retail foods departments. He closed the bakery, the cobblers (shoe repairers), and opened Superstores, the first being in Trowel, a couple of miles away from Lily Grove, where my shop was situated. Of course, they had lower prices, and my sales went down 33% the week the store opened! So… they closed it, along with many more small retail outlets.

The real sadness was that when I first saw him at the next shop, I was put in, another one due for closure, on Nuthall Road. I’d increased sales at that shop, mainly the wet fish sales, they were up 45%. But meeting him brought out the hatred for him in me. He was a smug know-all. I made it worse when he asked where I got catfish from. I picked up what he thought was catfish, told him I get it from Rossfish in the market – and told him, “It’s not catfish, it’s called Dogfish!” With all his conies and bum-lickers with him, this did not go down too well with his ego! Me laughing might have made things worse. After that, the hatred was mutual.

Until the new Superstore opened, a Bulwell Superstore, half a mile away! I was trying to sell cod fillets at 3/6d a pound, and the Superstore was retailing at 2/- lb! I was doomed!

He made my life a misery for years! When I moved to Tesco, I prayed he’d call in to laugh me off, but he didn’t. Probably just as well; it may have saved him from a few broken teeth and me from a prison sentence! Gawd, I was livid at the man!

But all came good years later, the Greater Nottingham Cooperative Society went bust! Hahahahahahahaha! The Co-operative Wholesale Society bought them out, and the first thing they did was close his miracle superstores! But I’d like to have seen him once more, just to laugh in his fat superior face! Still, that’s enough of that!

♫ Food, Glorious Food ♫

Just look at the healthy foodstuffs I had delivered! Bananas, Baked bean & cheese pasties, Cheese twists, fresh garden peas from Nicaragua. Potato and leek pie! Only one packet of smoked bacon this week. Apple pies instead of cream cakes? I did overdo the lemon & lime possets, I admit. Well, they were half-price!

Getting the fodder into the fridge, a minor calamity took place. As I took this photo above, the possets fell off the shelf, one hitting the corner of the drawer below and chipping some plastic off of it… I hastened to make sure that the other jars were safe from falling further…

I trod on the splinter of plastic! Well, the blood flowed! It messed my socks, feet, slippers and the freshly mopped floor. But did I swear and curse? Of course, I did!

I was in the middle of sorting things out. I’d done the floor, and I was in the wet room, tending to the feet and socks and a change of clothes. I thought I’d heard a bell or chime from somewhere? I limped naked into the front room and had missed a call on the mobile, so I rang the number back. The Hairdressers in Winwood Court also do chiropody, telling me my appointment to have the plates done; it was in 20 minutes!

I was a little flummoxed as I rushed to get the dressing done, got the trousers on, left the socks for Sarah to put on for me after doing my feet, checked things for safety, no taps running, owt on the stove etc. and fell chuffed as I left the flat, thinking I can just make it in time…

As I got to the lift, a chap from the other end smiled at me… and said, “You know you’ve got your pyjama bottoms on?” Der!!! I replied that I do now, thanks!

Scrambled back into the apartment, changed into the trousers, and legged it to the hair salon as fast as possible. I may have been a minute or two late. Judging by the glaring look that I got when I entered, possibly a little longer. Oh dearie me! But it got worse… I had the feet done, then slipped her a can of G&T in thanks, and started to wheel the walker trolley out of the door.

I again got the same threatening look as she said: “Are you going to pay then?” No trace of a smile involved! Oh, things are not going well; Dementia Doreen is having a ball with me!

I got back up to the flat and cautiously made a brew of Thompsons Punjana. I say cautiously, cause the kettle is kaputt, and I have to use a saucepan of water – high-risk that, if Peripheral Pete, Shaking Shaun, or Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley should kick-off!

I checked on the order for a kettle on Amazon. Says it is coming tomorrow… It says tomorrow, by 22:00hrs, the tracker says it has not even near to arrived for despatch yet? Hmm! I was hoping it would come sooner; I’m risking s good scalding using the saucepan.

Nosh: Bean and cheese pastie. Two cheese twirls, yellow tomatoes and tons of fresh garden peas. Haha! Flavour: 8.2/10.

Moon from a distance.

Ah, that’s better!

Another decent effort, I’ll try again… I did. I’m too ashamed to show three smudged shaky efforts and this one below…

When I got back and worked on the blog for a good while, I suddenly panicked that I may have left the tap running when I had to dash out to the foot-lady… I shot like lighting to check on the wet room… Well, that’s a lie, but I hobbled as hastily as I could. I am glad to report that I had not left the faucet running at all…

However… I still nearly fainted when I got in the wet room? I’d left the convertor heater on full blast! What a wally!

A sunset from which day, I’ve no idea. But it’s pretty?

If the SD card does not fall apart again and the card reader on the computer is behaving, I’ll have a look later to see if there are any more pictures on there I’ve not put on. Ah, got some!

Forgot about them, me? Yes!

Well pleased with these figures… again!

Body temperature up a bit; it reminds me of the quiz show on the telly years ago, the Golden Shot with Bob Monkhouse. Do you remember it? It was not a brilliant show, but it was so good when Mr Monkhouse compared it. Poor Charlie Williams, who took over when Bob left, was lost. He was a great comedian all the same.

Hello, I got one more sunset photo in tonight! Bootiful!

Ode To My Photographicalisationings

Why is the quality of my photos varying?
Well, there are several reasons, some being…
Firstly, there’s Shirley’s-Shoulder-Shuddering…
Dizzy Dennis is always ready and lurking…

Peripheral Neuropathy Pete… now theres’ a thing!
He can make me wobble, things go dropping…
My right leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dancing!
Nasty, if I’m Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucketing!
Even taking a Weak-Unwilling-Negligible-Trickling,
Throughout the room, the wee-wee goes sprinkling!

Vascular Dementia Doreen, the one I’m fearing…
She gives my memory and brain a pommeling!
Reflux Roger, thankfully now rarely troubling…
Duodenal Donald can be bad, he’s not piffling!

Next, the latest big three ailments arriving…
Cataracts Kathleen, the most serious warning…
48 weeks to wait, before a consultants scheduling,
Right eye worse, with Saccades Sandra troubling…
Glaucoma Gladys, the eyesight is now failing…

The oldest ailments, that are still surviving?
Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, Phimosis, can he sting!
Mechanical Heart Valve, no need for alleviating…
Especially as it is thankfully working!

Another ailment that doesn’t affect picture taking…
The ear holes have long been handicapping…
Now, the ear wax in them is tightly congealing,
I can’t hear the telephone ringing,
Hear the radio or television playing…
Hardly hear the chap upstairs banging and knocking…
But of course, the last line is an advantage!

Try to make them Laugh Series

Inchcock: Thoughts on Imbecilities – In Odes

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

Thoughts on Imbecilities

Vascular Dementia Doreen and the Thought-Storming,
Memory-loss, mind blanks, can be mentally disturbing,
At times depressing, troubling, often gruelling…
Alto-Ego and Inchies brain, arguing, duelling…
Sometimes the mind needs a rest for refuelling,
Here are some of the traits revealed, comedic and appalling!

Arguing with Alto-Inchy…

Conflict often starts when in the wet room, ablutioning,
I’ve only one mirror; I use it for shaving in the morning…
Or with mind-blanks, sometimes, it will be in the evening,
I hate him; he’s superior, nasty and criticising!
This Alto Inchie… the other me… can be baffling…

Mayhaps I need a neurologist or Psychologist visiting?
I hear sounds from the past, traffic, songs, bugling…
Although usually, we are deep in mental brawling…
Me, the one who ends up depressed and caterwauling…
Yet occasionally, Alto-Ego, becomes less insulting?

I suppose I need some form of help, some counselling?
Yet I don’t believe anything can stop my mind from crumbling!
Physically Peripheral Neuropathy Pete can be disabling,
The Stroke ensured I shall forever be struggling…
The Cataracts, Glaucoma and ears are much more worrying…

Yet some days, incredibly, I seem to be coping?
I find that I am actually optimistic and hoping,
I can sort out bits of concern by disentangling…
The feeling guilty for my self-pity, by realising,
Others are worse off and alone too… Humbling!

Stop and Ponder…

The Thought storms may suddenly go into mothballing…
I stop in the front room – it needs cleaning and sorting…
The brain tells me I require mollycoddling…
My fears and depressions certainly need muzzling!
Priorities need arranging and some actioning!

But it’s not easy for me, detail classifying, pigeonholing,
Forgetting, misplacing, quarrelling amidst the schemozzling…
Fears, worries, flash into mind… like anchovies shoaling,
I feel my sanity at times is stumbling on its way to failing,
Do you think the NHS will do mind-surveilling?

Mentally Distorted

I see the view via photographing,
What do you see? Well, according to me…
Somewhere out there; Some folk will be contradicting,
Or a poor sod in the middle of a bankrupting…
A family, communally banqueting?
A Monopoly player cheating?
Someone undoubtedly shoplifting…
A lamb in a field might be bleating?
Or emergency workers, fire-fighting,
Drug gangs, selling, abusing…bloodletting?
A politician… bloviating!
A news reporter, reporting?
An illegal immigrant deporting?
A lucky sod having sex… luxuriating!
Someone up an alleyway, urinating?
First-time home-owners, decorating,
An old age pensioner… constipating!

A Dour Sunsetting

A hard-up family, regretting Brexiting?
A hustler, planning, hornswoggling!
A fiddling bank manager… calculating?
A mugged pensioner, capitulating…
A murderer being freed to kill again – Sickening!
A baby going through the pain of castrating?
A young couple learning about cavorting!
Another freed murderer, celebrating?
A Hari Krishna member chanting,
A water worker, chlorinating?
A Nottingham pick-pocket circulating,
A Politician: World war circumventing?
A pair of gents, cockfighting,
A Policeman, machete and gun confiscating?
Jews and Arabs coexisting?
Ah! Now I’m getting into the land of dreaming…

Bad Parking!

.The Red Van Man – lousy parking…
Parking properly, he’s not contemplating…
Maybe he has not got the ability?
If so, parking without conformity…
Blocking fire engines in an emergency?
He should get a cautioning?
Ah, now I’m remembering…
Private land! So no legal prosecuting…
I’m not surprised; at the laws failing…
They free murderers to do more killing!

Dangerous!

Look at these perfect results above, contrasting…
To yesterday, when the SYS was rising…

Oh, dearie me!

The temperature was ever more declining…
34.1°c, but I’m only witwantoning!

Angel Julia

.American Carer Julia, her kindness is unremitting,
She had another call to do, so not much nattering…
Whenever Julia calls, I find it thrilling…
When Julia leaves, it is somewhat saddening…
For she cheers me so, she’s pleasant, patient and Caring ♥

Lip Smackingly Good!

Do you like the look of the meal above, my dining?
No meat as such, but fish-sticks, without fish in?
The taste of them was breathtaking…
Not too sweet, oven chips, no frying…
And I’m not lying, the most satisfying…
Truly tasty, there’s no denying…
A treat to the taste buds… gobsmacking!
Harry Ramsdens Chip Shop style, well-worth trying!

I find things today are moral-contaminating,
Not that I’ve done much in the improving things contributing!
I’ve drifted along, weak-willed and no consolidating…
Done my bestest to be kind and temper-moderating…
Welcomed, greeted folks, by my bridge building…
Do no harm, I did to help for others, aid-orchestrating…

Now disabilities, old age, vascular dementia I’m getting…
I keep falling over, but not fainting,
Struggle with my ablutioning,
Tried not for others to be abnegating…
The eyes and ears problems get no alleviating,
Let alone actually obtain any treating!

I’m aware of Dementia Doreen; I need sanity-auditing,
My thoughts and intentions… are not completing…
Use of the brain is nowadays complicating,
My decisions, fears, desires are self-conflicting…
I do little to deserve any respect or congratulating,
The Thought-Storms are ever congregating…

The mind seems to be mentally contorting,
The physical side doesn’t stand reporting…
Even taking a wee-wee needs coercing!
From logicalness, I think I’m distancing…
Any paperwork is confusing and inconveniencing!

Memory, or lack of, mind blanks, have me cursing…
I need help, mayhaps a little nursing?…
No, perhaps some rejoicing, romancing?
I may get by with some reminiscing?
The brain has little left for downloading!

Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series – In Odes

Sunset Thoughts In Odes

/ Inchie / 13 Comments

“Oy, Inchie…

“Wot?”

“Wot yer doin’ then?”

“Watchin’ the sunset!”

“Wot for? It ‘appens every night, yer burke?”

“I know it does, yer grumpy git! I photograph it most nights yer know…”

“I know that I am a part of yer ain’t I?”

“Then why ask me wot I’m doing then? You drive me to my homebrew, Ooh!”

“I dunno, just to piss you off, I suppose!”

“Sarcasm from you always flows…”

“Do you know, we’re talking in prose?”

“Go on then, let’s keep it up, see how it goes?

“The Carer will be here soon, let’s see who loses the odeing, you know?

“Just look at how the dying sun still glows..”

“I bet you’d get a better pattern as a Filipino?”

“I hear out there, they drink cappuccino?”.

“Do you like Pizzas from Domino?”

“What’s that got to do with the Ode, dumbo?

“Sod-all, you’ll soon be back on the Vino…”

“You’re in a barmy-mood? Why don’t you just go?

Cause I also want to see the sun’s dying glow!”

“I’m not having that; you a naturist? No, no, no!”

“That’s not nice, do yer want your blood to flow?”

“Ah, but you can’t hurt me physically, though!”

“Not my style, but I can send you loco!”

“Ha! I’m already bonkers; you’re too slow!”

“You are a saddo, fatso, and have no gusto!”

“Go on knob-end, tell me summat I didn’t know!”

“Well, the sun’s beginning to go…!

“I wish you would go; you damage my ego!”

“Why do you have to live on the 12th-floor in Council flats? Can’t you afford a bungalow?”

“Leave me alone. You’re always digging at me; you’re making my anger grow…”

“In the flat, it must be like the Alamo! Waiting for death, in agony, another coffin-seeking Bozo!”

“The Alamo? Well, my life seems to be connected like an imbroglio…”

That much, I understand and know…

“I don’t get out much, so?”

“With your luck, if you did, someone would stab you with a stiletto…”

“Or you stay-in, and old father time will soon say, time for you to go, cheerio!…”

“You being a defeatist would mumble, Righteo!”

“You may even ask him, is there time for one last bacon sarnie, with sourdough?”

“Have yer done? Taking the piss and having your fun?

“Aha! Pillock that didn’t rhyme. I’ve won again, I’ve won!

“Rollocks!”

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