Crowell Manor Laboratory Visit

CROWELL MANOR LABORATORY 102-Optical Solutioning

Crowell Manor Laboratories

The scientist & owner of the 46 laboratories, Billum; Master of Computational Finance, Master of Science in Teaching now retired. Has put his developments in his underground laboratories of a Time-Machine and Automatic Pickled Walnuts Slicer developments, experiments and creation on hold, all in the name of empathy and care of blogger Inchcock. Why? I’ll tell yer…

Billum invited Inchcock to come to his scientifically outstanding latest additional laboratory, dedicated to Medicationalistical ailments in the elderly. Having read the news about the Nottingham pensioner was having with his Cataracts, Glaucoma and Saccades in the sad old twits blog. He’s got plenty of his own, yet magnanimously and with great beneficence, Billum offered Inchcock to visit and “Have your Eyes Checked” in Laboratory 102, dedicated to Optical Solutioning! A marvellous offer and gesture, which the old Nottinghamian jumped at the eleemosynary offer. (Not literally, of course, jumping awake, yes, he can and does do… I’m waffling off of topic here again; sorry!)

Someone so far away, with his own ailments to cope with, and cares for others… That’s Billum! On arrival, they fed me, washed me, and we were soon going down to Laboratory-102. A fantastic, amazingly dazzling reception area… I think that his son Alan is the one who deals with the building side of things.

Billum’s other half, HRH Lisa, came in and gave me a sexy, pulse-prompting dance routine to the sounds of 1970s music. While Billum checked on Google, I assume to refresh his memory on cataracts, glaucoma and saccades?

It seemed like no time; it does when you are enjoying yourself. Before Billum took me through to his newest Laboratory-102.

He started his examination of my eyes…

Amid so many tests, prodding, probes and the usage of, to me, unidentifiable optical machines, some that played music, others that hummed, I smelt the perfume of my beloved (but don’t tell Billum) Sweet Petal, HRH Lisa… it was tantalising and moved my loins. Or maybe the painkiller that Petal Lisa gave me caused hallucinations? It contained Codeine, CBD and Cáñamo Hashish, whatever they are, but I felt no pain; they worked a treat!

I was spoilt rotten afterwards!

ODE TO THE VISIT

They sat me on a luxurious settee,
That was warming; they were lovely…
Served biscuits and a mug of Glengettie tea,
Petal Lisa came in and sat with me…
Billum was typing his assessment, you see…
The cats jumped up on my knee,
Petal Lisa, gemtly kissed me… ♥
I realised the tests done by Billum, for free!
I asked Petal Lisa if she wanted an adoptee?
Billum came in his report in hand and calmly…
Said, “It’s’ alright, you’ve got two eyes, not three!

That sort of puzzled and confused me…
Billum gave me a large bottle of CBD…
I went to take a wee-wee…
It didn’t flow very freely…
I said I know I’ve two eyes anyway…
Billum added, rather pleasantly,
Well spotted, and sent me away!

I make these blogs for Billum and Lisa, my Petal,
Not for anything that is epithetical…
But to raise a laugh, which to me is congenital,
For Billum, Alan and my precious Lisa Angelical!
I believe a laugh is as effective as hexobarbital,

Enough of this waffle,
I need another pittle,
Usually a painful trickle…
But releasing it is vital…
But having a laugh, trying to be comical…
To me, is worthy and commonsensical!
Even in this ode, that’s pathetical!

 Part of Inchcocks Make Them Laugh Series

The Fort Thomas Mystery?

THE FORT THOMAS MYSTERY

And, why is the Inchcock News Snippets reporter there?

Who is Billum? He is the once unspotted, then much-spotted, lesser-spotted, and now spot-free, Humira-taking, emeritus professor of algebraic, arithmetical, numerical, and statistics.

He, and his assistant, the lovely Petal Lisa, are referred to as HRH (Her Royal Highness) locally, around Crowell Manor, their home. She is always there, and always ready to support Billum, on his inventioning-habit. Billum is a clever lad. In fact, at the interviews I’ve had with him, I gleaned little – I was spending so much time on the Thesaurus and Dictionary.

After my last interview, I picked my way through the unwritten, intelligently and clandestinely formulated sagacious words in his replies. This is still a job in progress!

The Short Interview: Scientist, Lecturer, PhD, Astrophysics Master-Technician was working in his cellar basement laboratory, a sort of manufacturing complex, with a nuclear fall-out shelter, DVDs of the entire Grimm series, and enough supplies of cat food for 6-months was working on a new invention at the time.

I inquired what it was he was working on:

Billum: After explaining to me about his work, everything bar what it was he was inventing, said; That mutually inconsistent theory must not be ignored completely. Unless you want to… but if you do, you may miss a vital link that could prove that spaghettification is a natural phenomenon that we will meet. Thus, accepting that this is part of the process needed to be understood bBill andHRHefore the creation of any viable, workable model can be achieved, naturally…

Thankfully, Angel Lisa arrived as Billum got on with something in the other lab room (by gum, he must be working on two inventions simultaneously? Clever chap, you know!), and I was given a mug of Glengettie tea.

When he returned, I had a wee-wee, washed and returned. The interview resumed: I tried to think of a way, without sounding too stupid or upsetting Mr Billum, that he had not yet told me what the invention was yet… I mumbled and hesitated a bit; you would when talking to a genius!

Inchcock: Would you mind mentioning what your project is, Sir?

Billum: Not at all, transtemporal travel.

Inchcock: Sorry?

Billum: No need to be sorry, my lad… A way is bound to be discovered; I intend to be the man to do it… I’m close now; the lad Alan and HRH are getting excited at the prospect…

Inchcock: Erm, I’m not sorry you are doing it, Sir; I’m just sorry I didn’t understand what transtemporal travel means.

Billum: Well, what do you think it might be?

Inchcock: Er…, transport, maybe a cheaper way to power trains or aeroplanes? No, perhaps an unpunctureable air balloon… or…

Billum: No, no, no… Time-Travel! It’s taken me two weeks to get this far, but I’m sure I shall have it cracked by the end of today!

Inchcock: Er, So, you think it will work and be controllable, Billum?

Billum: Right now, at the particular place you are sitting, at the time when you are sitting there, one of two things is true: Either there is a closed timelike curve passing through that point in spacetime, or there is not. And that situation will never change — no matter what clever engineers may do in the future if they create closed timelike curves, they cannot pass through events in spacetime through which closed timelike curves did not pass. Simple!

Inchcock: Er… Is it?

Billum: Oh, aye! A time-travel paradox is a paradox, an apparent contradiction, or a logical contradiction associated with the idea of time and time travel. Time travel is one of the most popular and most exciting topics in science fiction. In psychology, mental time travel is the capacity to mentally reconstruct personal events from the past. We all do that. The motivation for a character to travel in time, provided that it is intentional, is either to rectify events in the past or to explore the past or future. However, there seems to be a danger of causing a paradox in the timeline, especially when going to the past. The best-known dilemma occurs if the time traveller goes back something like 70 years to the past and inadvertently kills his grandfather before grandpa has met grandma. He is extinguishing his own existence at the very exact moment. If he will never exist in the future, there is no one to go back to the past to cause the change in the timeline in the first place. As a result, the timeline is ambiguous since that time was in the past, and the person exists and does not exist at the same time from a logical viewpoint, at least in one possible interpretation.

Inchcock: Er…,

Billum: Oh, yes, easy-peasy! Time travel via speed, or the reverse… This is the easiest and most practical way to time travel into the far future – go really fast. According to Einstein’s theory of special relativity, when you travel at speeds approaching the speed of light, time slows down for you relative to the outside world…

Inchcock: So you’ve made an actual time machine then, Billum?

Billum: Of sorts, yes. The stronger the gravity you feel, the slower time moves. So my time bubble is super magnetic and will move at the slowest pace ever, so time travelling backwards is so easy! Which us what we will be doing.

Inchcock: Is it? Err, We?

Billum: Yes! Of course, it has to be large enough to carry food, water etc., for a good few years. And I was looking for someone who is not entirely with it. Preferably bald, so he’ll have no haircutting to worry about, will be needed; to be my first man to time travel in my bubble-magnet… Have another mug of Glengettie, mate…

Lock the doors, Alan!

Ode To The Outcome…

I enjoyed the tutoring for my journey…
By HRH, a joyous beauty,
You’ll have to see and agree…
But facts and numbers only confuse me…
Still, we had a cuddle and mug of Glengettie!

Time to go, lacking fear, and HRH was kissed…
I went slowly into the ether, the space mist…
I wrote of the nothing I saw and all I missed…
In time, I became a pretty fair anecdotalist,
Throughout, I kept at a level of my cheerfullest…

At no time did I become worried or distressed…
With Bill’s magnet-time-machine, I was impressed,
It was cold, and I was glad I wore my woolly vest…
Although, with my pencil breaking, I was stressed…
I’d a spare pencil stuck with a plaster on my chest.
Inchcock at his cunning best!

I saw Spike Mulligan, Aneurin Bevan, Yes, Siree!
I looked around to see if I could see Suzie…
Then I sensed starting, a Thought Storm, spree…
And then it all became vividly clear to me…

Huh, it was all a dream, Alto Ego laughed heartily…
At his mocking, I did disagree,
We had a verbal argy-bargy…
I started the battle off with “Pardon me?”,
We ended up drinking mugs of Glengettie tea…

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Part of Inchcocks Make Them Laugh Series

The Basement Laboratory at Crowell Towers

Designed & Created to be funny & get a smile or two!

With this morning’s (Wed) bleeding problems…

and the computer ones, too, by the time I got around to making time to think of what to do with today’s blog; the day had almost gone. However, I was determined to get summat sorted out to publish.

So I got a graphic that I’d started long ago, of HRH Lisa and Lesser Red-Spotted Professor Billum, in their basement laboratory, and titivated it, adding some, that I think amusing bits.

I hope you like it.

The Basement Laboratory at Crowell Towers

I added myself visiting.

Hope it goes down well! 💚

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: Diary with Odes

I’d like to start with my family, friends and flatmates here at Woodthorpe Court, in Sherwood, Nottingham

Roger Rabbit, waving to Lisa & Bill ♥

Their Mother & Father are my cyber-buddies, HRH Lisa, Billum and Alan, of Fort Thomas in the US of A. Lovely Gift; A smashing clan who sent them to me out of the blue, and I have a natter with them every morning! I made a family portrait this morning…


Inchcock Today

Whoops I woke up with a whopping great jump and jerk. It was of such magnitude it moved my body mass a few inches towards the edge of the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly-sickeningly beige coloured, tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly-recliner. A few more inches would have had me on the carpet, cursing and nursing Harold’s Haemorrhoids! Hehehe!

Of course, that was the end of any sleeping, so I lay a few seconds to work out what day and time it was and any actions or activities required… But here was the watch? No longer on my wrist?

I soon found out what I’d done with it – fourteen hours later, I found it on the floor, behind the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner.

During the ablutionalisationing, I realised I had not got my watch on. “Ah, well,” I thought, “It’ll be on the ottoman!” Finished off and made a brew of Glengettie. But…

Refilling the kettle, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley kicked off. Talk about bad timing! Harrumph! The water went all over the previously washed and dried cutlery and crockery, down the front cabinet of the sink and down my trousers, socks and slippers, and onto the kitchen floor…

It took me ages to get it sorted and dressed again. I seem to be doing this a lot more often lately. Dementia Doreen? SSS? Peripheral Pete? Cataract Kathleen? Haha! Who knows which will get the blame.

Made a fresh mug of tea and got on the computer, rather pleased to be making an early start on the blog. Ha!

I had to do other jobs and kept nipping back to see if Liberty-Global, the company with a Revenue of: 12.98 billion USD (2021), who bought out Virgin Media Internet, are even worse than the scumball BT internet was… Not that Herr Fries is bothered. Don’t I pick them!

Did the health checks, and the internet was back on. But to for long, ten minutes maybe…

Pee’d off with this already! The Iceland delivery arrived. They had substitutes plain sausages again for the unavailable microwave ones! That’s the fourth time this year, I’ve sent them back each time, but they keep subbing them.

The strawberries and tomatoes were from Morocco. The strawberries had some slime on a few, which I threw away. The mini-cherry tomatoes were substituted for vine ones and tested for taste… Bloody Hell! I’ve tasted a tomato so foul and bitter in my life! Eurgh! They hadn’t any brown cobs in stock either! All in all, a bad do! I put the crap away.

Tried the computer again. It had come back on at last. For around a half-hour, then…

Well, obviously not that much… Git!

My morning Carer called and sorted me out. It was her first call. She came in without ringing the door chime and gave me a nervous tick! Even if she shouts out when she walks in, I can’t hear her with my hearing. Still, I wasn’t using the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) when she came in. Hehehe!

Aha! The internet came back on… Thank you, Mr Fries. Got the post finished and sent off. Facebooking, and it happened again:

Liberty-Global has disassociated itself with Virgin Media; they do not mention that they own and fail to run it, hoping that Richard Branson will get the blame, I think?

One more effort once it came back on. Most anger-making and revenge prompting! But this time, I had to close everything down and off and reboot the box and computer.

I’ll have to give up on this; Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet has gone off again! My language is crude at the moment. I am willing and wishing that Fries drops dead immediately. It won’t matter to me cause he can’t run the service anyway. He’s a number-cruncher, accountant, actuary, bean-counter, bookkeeper, calculator, con-man. His use of smoke and mirrors, off-shore account movements etc., are his strengths. A wanker of a banker! Indeed, he has no people-care or customer sensitivity.

I’ve lost all my heart in blogging now. I’ll get something to eat, give up until morning, and then try again to use LIBERTY-GLOBAL Virgin Media Internet. But I’m not confident… well, I am in a way – I feel sure that Fries will let things get worse… there’ll be a financial fiddle of some sort involved in the situation, I’m sure. But he is obviously trying to destroy a company, his company, that paid around $2.4 billion to buy out… why? Back-handers? Mafia? Money Shuffling & Juggling? Banking fiddle? You scratch mine – I’ll scratch yours?

Bribery and manipulation? Or just money-making savviness via greedy, devious, underhand means? Just a thought! Why is he shoving all the much-travelled money of Liberty-Global into telecom and internet companies the world over? When he obviously is incapable of providing a reliable service? A money-predatory and manipulative Con-Man supreme!

Today’s end car park inspection photograph.

Carer Valerie arrived. Just after I’d realised that I had no hot water from the taps (faucets). She was kind enough to find and write ht telephone number of the Nottingham City Homes Repairs in large letters so I could read it. I was a little nervous to ring yet if I had made a cock-up leaving a tap running or something. (The hot water was back on in the morning, Phew!) Off went Valerie taking the bags o the waste for me on her way. Thank you!

Herbert was giving it some hammer tonight; I wonder what he’s making this time. I found a picture that I’d taken last week, possibly from Thursday when I visited the foot lady at the hair salon appointment farce.

Washed and changed into the night attire, and I made up a bottle of spring water and lime juice. I did a couple for Carer Richard, who may come on Monday, and stored them in the fridge, so they will be nice and cold for him.

Hot much of a sunset again tonight, but still beautiful to me, even with the muted hue and colours.

I used the Canon camera. As for some reason, the Fuji developed a thick white line down the centre of the screen, and I could not remove it? Turned it off and then back on, but no luck; still there?

As I got down on the recliner to watch some TV, I took this snap of my legs. Not a pretty sight!

The fattiness in both legs was returning, or it might be water-retention, but I think not. I wish I knew why I felt that, but I cannot remember why now, Tsk! (Sunday morning)

Cartilage Cathy on the right and Arthur Itis on the left knee, can you see? The veins are shallower tonight, and the hairs have suddenly turned grey? The funny side of this shot was the feet not showing. Hahaha!

An Ode to an ‘Orrible Day

My signing with Virgin Media was happenstantial,
The computer… to be precise, Liberty-Global,
Ran by Mike Fries, money-mad and ignoble!
Who bought out Virgin Media, most controversial,
Liberty-Global is crap; blame is cunningly deflectable…
They keep shtum about owning Virgin Media – detestable!
So Richard Branson gets the blame, a sort of Guilt-Burial!
My hatred for Mike Fries is substantial…
Well, his hatred of customers is evidential…
His lousy internet seems to him inconsequential,
He still gets paid a fortune, and management are reverential?
The sickening signs of fiddling figures are torrential!
Although my evidence is only circumstantial…
And comes from a customer who is uninfluential,
Liberty-Global’s ever failing service makes me demential!

Morning all!

Inchcock; a bad day!

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

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!

Rube Goldberg – Bill Ziegler: The Connection

A Rube Goldberg machine, named after American cartoonist Rube Goldberg (born July 4, 1883, San Francisco, California, U.S.—died December 7, 1970, New York, New York), is a chain reaction-type machine or a contraption intentionally designed to perform a simple task in an indirect and overly complicated way. Brilliant!.

My cyber buddy, Bill Ziegler, put me onto Rube’s work, and I found it hilarious. What a brain to turn these out! I decided to make a graphic of Bill and partner HRH Lisa, a fantastic pair of people. ♥

I decided to try and make a graphicalisation of Billum. Billum is a clever chap, scientist, scholar with mathematical tendencies, and is jolly good-natured. Cause his sense of humour is similar to mine, and I hope he likes them.

With a mock Rube Goldberg machine and added the difficult to create one, below. Adding HRH Lisa in there, of course. ♥

The one below took me several days to do cause of my cataracts. I shall have to stop making them soon; it’s too painful. But I was determined to get this one completed for Bill.

I wonder what Bill will think he’s making? Hehehe!

I love to make folks smile or laugh, as do Bill and Lisa 💙

Hope you like it, mate!

Inchcock: Ode to Old Nottingham Memories

Inchcock Loses the plot in this ode to Old Nottingham Memories

But he does his bestest, honest!

Nottingham has many virtues, good, bad and chronic…
Its history, of being Saxonic,
It’s people grand, pleb’s, murderers, some moronic,
Nowadays, we’ve bred more that are demonic…
Muggers, gangsters, shop lifter, a lot, schizophrenic…
A few have car insurance, and not many have a driving licence…
Younger Nottinghamians music is cacophonic…
Thousands of students, so some scientific…
We’ve had many arrested for being terroristic.

Many of them you’d think were telluric,
The job-shy, call having a cold being sick!
Many old uns like me, who remember Sputnik…
Using lard to make their spotted dick!
We’re snided out with those sarcastic…
Even more of them are vandalistic!
Gone are the days of the workaholic…
But also gone, getting polio, scabies and colic!
Hopes for our citizenry? Like a trip on the Titanic!

The tin bath dragged inside from the wall, metallic…
No bath salts, we made do with soap, carbolic!
Hot water, Ha! Boil it on the stove or fire; unhygienic!
The toilet outside at the end of the yard is unproblematic!
Mind you, in winter, I was a smidgeon unenthusiastic…
Coal-house out there, fetching wood could be traumatic,
In the dark, you could kill a rat or cat hidden – tragic!
But lazing in front of the coal fire was magic!
Until the burning ashes shot out, and the carpet got lit!

Anything to be written was in pencil or pen and ink!
We knew nowt about an uplink, hard-drive or weblink,
Mobile, cell phone, wristwatch, dentist or permalink,?
Our pleasures limited, Monopoly, maybe tiddlywink…
Swearing was minimal then, ratfink, burke or gink!
Getting the belt for devilry made us wince and squint!
I got a few lashes once, a day out…for not looking perjink!
I recall once, the lads writing on my leg splint…
Not a lot of it was spelt right; they put sinnt for sent…
But thickness and ignorance permeated wherever I went!

I tried to join a club once, ended up getting a blackballing!
My education, manners, and appearance were appalling!
My approach to girls, looking back… was bloodcurdling!
9 times out of 10, her admirers would end up brawling!
With me, the littlest, the one that kept falling & failing!
On this embarrassing subject, I’ll stop burbling!

Amongst the unknown to us was Methamphetamine,
Mind you, we’d a neighbour who’d supply whisky and gin…
I got IPA, Mackeson, Guinness, thus started drinking…
My intake, for many years, there was no curtailing…
But my love of beer was never really disabling,
Until cancer arrived, there was only one way of controlling…
I singularly went from a happy drinker to totally abstaining!
It was hard, so hard to do, I still find it appealing…
But without any help, encouragement or counselling,
I turned tea-total… smug-mode developing!

I became a keen lover of food and masticator,
My weight ballooned, and furthermore…
Got myself a duodenal ulcer…
Cancer of the bladder…
Then diabetes and nasty hernia…
Peripheral neuropathy, oh, bother!
A stroke, which left me a confused procrastinator…
Disabled, what next? Cataracts, Saccades and Glaucoma!
I was already going deaf, then bother with an incisor!

And to think, I used to be a blood-doner..,
Also, now, I do tend to stutter…
Still struggle with the wee-weeing bother,
Then I was confirmed to have Vascular Dementia…
This life has been terrible… yet also an adventure!
Oh, and the back’s developing a curvature…
I think its best to try and stay demure,
About there is no chance of a cure,
The failing eyesight is worrying me more…

Did I deserve all these ailments? That’s up for conjecture,
Is that the right word? I’ll check… Yes, no error!
Things seemed better in the days of yore, thereinbefore,
The Carers’ cost a lot, that’s for sure…
A little good luck, I could do with some more?
Dementia Doreen’s in control, I’m sure, that I can assure…
Yet at times, she rests, releases the memory-core…
If she returns and comes back to the fore,
She’s my ever-present concentration annihilator!

Sorry, I see my starting thoughts got juxtaposed…
Did my thought waves get overdiagnosed?
Is Dementia Doreen no longer comatose,
Or my incredulous logic, become indisposed?
Have I been overeating glucose,
I’ve just eaten a banana, and I’m adipose!
Would it be alright to have Marmite on toast?
The plot’s gone again – what a terrible host!.

Inchcock’s Abysmal Odeing – For Fun

Inchcock: Fun Graphics wot I Dun

Old and new graphics done for fun

TFZer = Troll Free Zone member

Older First

TFZer Marie ♥

TFZer Julie ♥

TFZers Winner Lillie ♥

TFZers Janet, Marie. Heather & Gladys ♥

TFZer Pattie ♥

TFZer Winner! ♥

TFZer Group Graphics

TFZers: Meritt canoeing, all the others in the background ♥

Newer Graphics

TFZer Janet BM ♥

TFZer Lona ♥

TFZers Janet A & Jillie ♥

TFZers Marie, Thomas & Gerry ♥

TFZer Pattie ♥

TFZer Thomas G

♥ TFZer Janet A, with pets! ♥

♥ TFZer Aussie Mary ♥

♥ TFZer Nancy ♥

♥ TFZer Gladys ♥ Meritt watching? Hehe!

♥ TFZer Lona ♥

Cyber-Buddies Lisa ♥ & Bill

♥ ♥ ♥

Footnote:

It’s taking longer and longer to get these graphics done. The Cataracts seem to be getting worse all the time. So I put these on while I could and hope the operations are successful and get back to having the time to make them. I shall stubbornly continue to do my bestest and refuse to give up on them. Cause I love doing them on CorelDraw and Paint. But, there may be fewer produced, and for a while after each operation – which of course, have not even been arranged yet. Another wave of Coronavirus and they may never get done and sorted. Fingers crossed! TTFNski, each.