Inchcock Today: Life In Ode

Mind Control… or lack of…

What my mind is conjuring, and weirdly producing,
Has a new idiosyncratic strain that needs introducing…
A previously unknown worrying sense of doom-accepting?
You know, a sort of go with the flow, with no coercing,
This new deliberation of mental compliance is almost piercing!
It’s still a new thing, so I’m not going to start whingeing…
No moaning, cursing, complaining or penancing…
But, the control of my thoughts is indeed decreasing!

Kentucky Dream…

A dream only last night, I was in a house, tippytoeing…
Floating, searching, smiling, and happily singing!
It was where my cyber-friends Lisa & Billum were living…
Although they couldn’t hear me, to them, I started chatting…
I was aware this could just not be happening…
I cooked them a chilli stew and started the garnishing…
Left them a note with the meal, and started going…
Outside I was suddenly solid again and segueing…
Along a pathway… the dream started subsiding,
I found myself in my wet room… wee-weeing!

The justice system, I can’t help renouncing…
Criminals, murders freed early, to rob and kill again!
No thoughts of family members or victims; disgusting!
No realisation that they have given anguish and pain…
Pathetic parole board, free killers again, mind shuddering!
Is it the judges, parole board or murderers that are insane?

True Love Lost…

In 1964, I visited Grizelda, hoping she was in the mood for servicing,
She was very good to me, in fact, she was astounding!
For hours we were in heaven, sweating, exhilarating!
For the next session, I was already praying and waiting…
Then shattering news! Grizelda was departing…
But she gave me one last amazing trouncing…
Thus, the end of our fantastic romancing…
Gawd, how I loved our coupling and connecting!
She went home to München… bloody sickening!
One day I might find an affaire du Coeur again?

Confusions…

I ordered two-blade razors for shaving,
I used Morrisons. What should I have been expecting?
I got 5-blade razors for my shaving…
So, did my teeth, de-nasaling and washing…
Started shaving, I found it challenging…

The results were a smidge discouraging,
I’d already got bleeding molars from teeth-brushing,
The razor? I cut my finger on the plastic sheathing,
A tiny cut near the ear hole. Didn’t half sting…
Applying the aftershave to stop the bleeding,
Shuddering Shoulder Shirley started twitching…
Blood in the chest, floor and clothing…
As the Brute, I kept on sploshing…
I dropped the bottle on my foot; I was seething!
Farting about, I was very self-scathing…
But heroically carried on with my bathing!
Then walked into the doorframe, leaving…

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

Advice Received this Week

The Ophthalmologist: Take this leaflet and read it. The print was too small to read it!

The Ophthalmologist: Remember to phone the Doctor in two weeks to ensure that the Cataract operations application papers have gone through and the process started. No mention of what to do if they hadn’t – And does she really expect me to remember to do this?

Carer: (On me losing the TV remote control, I’ve never found it) You should put it in the same place every time! Well, I actually do try to, so good advice. It’s not clear cut, but falling asleep with the regular nocturnal somnambulant activity almost every night. I often find I wake and turn on the TV, get the crossword book, or, judging by the crumbs found in the folds of my stomach fat, indulge in nocturnal nibbling. But only discover this in the morning after waking. At first, I blamed the mysteries of Winwood Heights, the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodemons, apparitions, and other grotesqueries haunting the hallways and lobbies searching for Inchcock. To create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, scare, worry and confuse me! Sometimes, the furniture has been moved too. Shame! So, as sound as the advice was, it wasn’t practical for Vascular Dementia Doreen or me.

Carers – Warden Dean & the Nottingham City Council Commercial Debt and Revenue Recovery lady, and Bank Clerk: (Re the hundreds of pounds 3 months unpaid carer Bills to Meridian). “Don’t worry!”?

Dentist: (On being asked for the umpteenth time to take all my remaining teeth out) “I might be able to save the top front one…” After three have fallen out, the two previous ones she could save having been filled twice, then pulled. My confidence is low!

LookAfterYourEyes.org: The operation usually takes from 15 to 45 minutes. It is carried out under local anaesthetic, so you will be awake but not have any sensation in the area around your eye. Throughout surgery, you will hear the ophthalmologist explaining what they are doing, and you may see some vague movements around your eye. The ophthalmologist will make a tiny cut in your eye to remove the cataract and insert a plastic replacement lens. You will not usually need stitches, but your eyes will be covered to protect it from knocks after the operation.

You will be allowed to go home the same day, but you should have someone to go with you and look after you for 24 hours after surgery. Who?

If this means a Meridian carer, it would cost me a minimum of £440 for the 24 hours! Arghhh!

Just how does one go about declaring bankruptcy? Is it easy?

Part of the Inchies Make Them Laugh In Odes Series

Good Heavens! Good Luck!

A Tale In Ode; of Inchcock Having Good Luck!

I was sitting, doing the blog, Inchcock Today,
Got it nearly done, sorting out the scintillae…
When, crunch… much to my utter dismay…
The right patella plopped out of its socket!
Well, it shot out like a rocket!
Did it hurt, was I worried… Oh, nay!
Just don’t believe all I say, Hahaha!

After the shock, I tried to get it back in…
Too tender to do any banging…
After much-failed faffing…
I thought this needed help and medicating,
I had a bash at knee cap relocating,
To ease things and stop it stinging,
I could hobble, but Gawd, it was stinging!

The lady on 111 was very obliging,
Go to the hospital, she was saying…
So I did, bravely… I’m not bragging…
Finished the blog and was not cringing!
Set of to the QMC, without whinging.

By the time I got down to the ground floor,
Bearing in mind, I’m a bit of a procrastinator,
Should I be busing it there? Is this an error?
A taxi will be costly but will save some furore…
I’ll phone for one, but again a failure!
I’d left the mobile behind; what an adventure!

I shuffled painfully back into the elevator,
Up to the apartment, entered, and for sure…
Knocked my knee on the door furniture!
The pain turned to agony at the conjuncture…
I had a close look at the knee. Is it a fracture?

But luck, as you may know, is a fickle creature…
With swelling down to the fibula and tibia,
Gobsmackingly within minutes, the discomfiture…
The pain was showing signs of divestiture!
But the agony was still nowhere near miniature!

Now, amazingly, I was going far less squirming…
The knee cap to the socket I saw returning!
Which I thought was very easing and welcoming,
I hobbled far easier, for some more wee-weeing!

Of course, the thought ‘would it pop-out again?’…
I wasn’t too bothered if the bad luck came back again,
It’s bound to, assuredly, guaranteed, for certain…
But this knee-cap returning I can’t explain?

Good Luck? A stranger to my scatterbrain,
But I like getting it and hope to again…
Ayup! I walked into the doorframe…
Now I’ve got a new bruise and back pain!
That’s better, much more like my scene!
Was this whole escapade transpadane?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Colophon, by Alto-Ego Inchie

Inchcock is still not capable of kneeling or genuflection,
He’s not a technician… more a poor theoretician!
Inchcock leans towards visualisation rather than realisation…
He’s used to existence with trepidation and tribulations,
Throwing his poor hearing and sight into the equation…
The fool accepts all his failures, hassles and aggravations!
Yet throughout, the old fool has shown great determination…
Patiently waiting for some good lucks germination…

Well, he got some yesterday…
His knee returned to the socket, of its own orchestration,
And what does Inchcock have to say?
“It burst out like a fulmination…”
“I failed to get it back in by manipulation!”
“Going to the hospital, realised I left my communication…”
“Back to flat for the phone, due to my vacillation…”
“Clouted me knee, which caused me much confusing elision…”
“So, Vascular Dementia Doreen proved to be my salvation…”
“I’d have missed this miracle cure without memory erasion.”

Hence: Ailments mental and physical can cause depression…
Hypertension, apprehension, confusion, even tintinnabulation!
Procrastination; and indeed, physical and mental putrefaction
Infection, infestation, digression, marginalisation…
Occasionally like yesterday, it can cause jubilation!
Well, that’s my impression!
Time for some self-inebriation?

Part of the Inchies True Make Them Laugh Ode Series

Inchcock: Local News Snippets in Ode

This week the News Snippets are reported, recorded and commented on, by The Nottingham Pensioner Lad, Inchcock (89).

Alto-Ego Inchy: I apologise for the Odeing included in the comments. But the lad has had minimal education. Now, with him contracting Vascular Dementia, as well as various other ailments; Hearing aids, mechanical ticker fitted, Glaucoma, Saccades, Cataracts, Stroke, Peripheral Neuropathy. His tendency to either waffle on, lose the plot or regularly forgets what he was doing, where he is, or where he was going; does not make for readable poetry. But there’s no stopping him. He only sulks when I point out these and other failings to him. Sorry.

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

Well, this looks good,
Be happy surely we should?
Read the next one and chew the cud!
Your interpretation will go down with a thud!

I’m aware of how they feel, every patient,
I’m waiting on may a medical appointment,
Dentist, Chiropodist, Doctors yearly check…
That’s been a wait of three years, by, heck!
Audio, DVT and Cardiac…
Then the operation on the cataracts,
Glaucoma and Saccades and the Diabetes in fact…
Will I live long enough to get my treatments?

Sozzled, drugged up, and a man with a violent bent,
But will there be a return to prison requirement?
Easier for him to get drugs in there for his sustainment?
Maybe they’ll offer him some mental treatment?
Tell him sorry if this is inconvenient…
Give him some cocaine and pay his rent?

Run of the mill stuff, for the Nottingham creed,
I understand that he was a gynaecologist,
Nothing suspicious, the chap wasn’t a druggist…
Police won’t look too far into this…
With nine officers attacked and on the sick list!

The Police and I…
Have no idea why,
So sorry the lad had to die…
RIP son… It makes you cry!

No matter why – Animals!

All this violence, drugs, gangs, I comprehend?
Slave importers, youths will re-offend…
No deterrent do the courts send…
Viciousness threatens, it’s today trend…
And I think it will only worsen!
A judge was I thought the only person…
Who could, these crimes amend…
But no, so I’m scared and disheartened!.

Self-Centred Scum!

Well, this is interesting news for Sherwood…
A 48% increase in crime figures, should…
make my blood boil, make me angry and rude!
I’m not surprised, I’ve not seen a policeman since May!
Didn’t even see one on Tuesday…
Plenty of yobboes lurking…
Don’t suppose they are working?
I just pray they don’t mug me today!.


Raliegh, John Players, Debenhams, Topshop, Oasis, WH Smith, Burton & Dorothy Perkins, River Island, Banks closing down, Virgin Media sold to Liberty Global and has been ruined by them, Macintoshes, Rowntrees, Frys, Cadburys all sold to Nestles…

But fret not, we have 14 new takeaway shops opened… even though 12 went bankrupt in the last year?

Well, looking at my arm that’s encouraging.

So, basically, she’s got 25 days, what an hour a session? Going to some Community Centre; probably gets a free meal, and she can do some drug trading at the same time. I assume that courts will be providing her with a taxi both ways?

Inchcock’s Local News Snippets in Ode

Inchcock Today: Escape To Sherwood!

My EQ had already warned me, today would be different, special,
But I’ll have to be prepared for aggravation, be on my metal!
But explained things won’t be wrong, not an early burial…
But plans, like life, can be so decoctible…
Plans, well mine, are easily cock-uppable!
However, EQ’s warnings were mostly corrigible.

I thought that my will-power and contentment was indestructible,
Which, to say the least, was a rarity and unexplainable!
I got the blog created and sent off… although it was minimal,
The Carer was a smidge depressed, not very cheerful,
Gave him a can of Gin in thanks, told him to be safe, be careful,
Departing, the Carer definitely seemed a bit more gleeful,
Which made me feel better; did you know he was bilingual?

I only did a small blog, the eyes are getting worse, seeing less,
Still can’t get the photos on the computer – I’m at my pottiest!
Sorting out the paperwork needed for ophthalmologist,
The Bank Manager, whose visit I’d have gladly missed…
And added herb-slices to my little shopping list,
Readied things for the escape, shopping, bank and optometrist…

Here we go…

I got to the door, seeing I’d enacted my habit of being a noctambulist,
Boxes had been moved, stuff out on the trolley, can a hypnotist,…
Be consulted, for I do not recall getting from bed; was I pissed?
I think not; I stopped drinking years ago… mind you, it’s still missed!
Some bits of paper on the carpet as well, to be honest…
I don’t think my mind is at its mentally healthiest…
Hit my head picking stuff up… but this was not to be the painfullest,
Half an hour later, I felt at my poorliest…

I hobble out along to Winchester Street, limping down the hill,
A car parked on the pavement again, cruel and evil…
Not sliding in the wet leaves was taking all my skill…
I was soon swearing like the devil!
I tripped on the crack underneath the leaves, twisted my knee…
Bagged my leg falling on the soggy gravel,
It hurt, but so did me wanting to have a pee!
But more important was my desire to see Jillie!

My tumble meant nothing now; I hobbled like the devil,
My mission is to see Jillie, whatever the peril…
My fears and pain had disappeared – they were nihil!
We met, and in her arms I did cradle…
Nothing mattered then, even my wanting a piddle!.

The time shot by while I was Jillie, my lover… in my mind
She’s regal, beautiful, and so very kind…
I found her 60 years too late; it drives me out of my mind!
But she had partly adopted me, that was so very kind,
She is a gift, a pleasure, a desire, of all mankind ♥

Jillie walked with me to the opticians, beautifully coiffured,
She is even aware before I say so when something I’ve misheard!
A treasure-find for me, patient and so good-natured!
My confidence was boosted, hopes temporarily recaptured…
Into see the ophthalmologist room, to have the eyes inspected!
Prodding and eyes, the drops all done; 20 minutes, I waited…

The Oculist came out with the problem after I was examined,
The result was not unexpected… I’m overly cataracted!
She set the ball rolling for me to have two lenses fitted…
Paperwork to the Doctors’ was remitted…
She explained further to me of the operation…

Risky at my age, but without it, I’ll be blind within a year
As was expected and natural to me, worry, but no fear.

Gave me some leaflets to read. There is no point in prescribing the new glasses until after the operation. Because having two plastic lenses replacing the genuine lenses would alter the sight a lot, they will sort the spectacles out with another examination after the procedure.

Also, she can look into the Glaucoma and Saccades issues after my getting and trying the new spectacles. Which can’t be done until so many weeks after the operation has been completed. Ah, well! Only what I expected, really.

I had the pleasure of thanking them, and going with Jillie to the bank. Which took a lot of her time, but she was very patient. We went into a room with an advisor. I could not hear what he was saying, and the rapidly declining eyesight meant I could no longer see well enough to try lip-reading. But, Jillie did all the talking for me. ♥ She asked about the Carers Direct Debit situation, and the chap told her, as she explained afterwards, I had no idea what was going on, Hehe! that the transactions were set up, but nothing had gone out yet? Crumplemost Confusing!

After a long time, we left the bank, and Jillie had to help me with the cash machine to get some money out. Bless Her! I don’t know what I’m going to do when the gal is unavailable!

Got some bits from the local continental store, not a lot; I’ve got a food delivery coming in the morning.

We walked back to Jillie’s house, and I got a hug (Boy, that felt good!) as we parted. Despite the morning’s happenings, I felt up to walking up the hill back to the flats!

I got in and made a meal. Gobbled it up, and sat down; and fell right asleep! For about four hours! Got up, and I started to mop the kitchen floor as Carer Richard arrived. We had a little natter, but he was in a rush. So I gave him one of his favourites, a pink gin and tonic, thanked him as he departed. Then got on with the moping again.

I sat down with a mug of Glengettie tea to watch Heartbeat on the box… But only managed about ten minutes, and I drifted off again.

WHOOPSIEDANGLEPLOP!

After an hour, I sprang awake in absolute agony! The hobble (I imagine) had set off Colin Cramps, and boy was he giving me some pain! Worse, he went on all night until about 04:30 in the morning!

MedPhorpainI used up an entire tube of Phorpain overnight! But it did me no good. Even taking two co-codamol didn’t ease things at all! All in the left foot and leg. Knob-Gobs! I’ve never had cramps so bad in my life before?

The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe In Rhyme

Breaking News – Political Odes

Tuesday 11th January 2022

Politics today

Political farces, what a worrying thought,
Criminals abound, but not so many are getting caught!
But always motorists, cannabis users, end up in court?
Easier for the police… whose number is getting short…
Trying to understand why; I get bestaught!

The court’s sentencing seems unfair, unequal…
I thought judges were intellectual, but there’re ineffectual!
One lad had cannabis 2 ounces, got six months jail,
And armed robber, got tagged, no jail, another fail?
A shoplifter… charged 28 times, no jail; makes you wail!

If a citizen is violent, acts antisocially…
Or shoplifts, pickpockets occasionally…
Very few of them are dealt with properly,
But park in the City Centre, illegally…
Judges, magistrates, come over all schoolmasterly,
Massive fines, driving bans, even prison, arbitrarily!

With sentences for criminals, magistrates are miserly,
Youth beats up an 88-year-old, the youth could not get a job,
Magistrate ‘feels for him’ slaps his wrist, supposedly wisely…
Sent him home; on the way, he hit a woman in her gob!
The Magistrate should retire, obviously…

A Judge-parole-boarder, who frees murderers to kill again,
Are guilty of the crime repeated, for certain!
Their career in law should be slain, I wouldn’t complain…
If they were locked up until Jesus returns again!

Prisoners get the same healthcare and treatment as anyone outside of prison. Bollocks! I can’t get to see my Doctor. Would a prisoner have to wait for weeks to get a Dentist appointment? Just asking!

Prisoners can get Specialist support:

If they have drug or alcohol problems, Coronavirus, HIV or Aids. Are disabled or have a learning difficulty.
I get no help with my disabilities; I have to pay for Carers. Where’s my help with hearing, eyesight, Peripheral Neuropathy, Shaking Shaun, Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, Arthur Itis, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley, Back-Pain-Brenda, Walking, Vascular Dementia, Haemorrhoid Harold etc.? No!

♫ It was all over my jealousy ♫ Hehehe!

Alto-Inchie, on Inchcock Thoughts in Ode – Part 11⅔rds

Now, there’s no comparison twixt the above two,
Albert is dead; Inchcock is in the queue…
Both smoked a pipe, Erinmore honeydew,
Violence, they both tried to eschew,
Albert was very clever, too…
Inchie also had thoughts, but very few…
He can’t get them to do what he wants them to,
He still struggles with his toilet tissue issue!

Alto-Inchie on Inchcocks Waking & Rising

Once woken, he works out what time and day is dawning,
A wee-wee will be needed, while he’s still yawning,
Check what ailments are most perturbing…
If any clothes are on, he’ll start disrobing…
The fungal lesion will be bleeding or throbbing,
Arthur Itis, Reflux Roger and Ann Gyna may be stinging…
With doing the ablutions, he’ll start grappling,
Little Inchie, embarrassingly like a watercress sapling,
The constant wee-wees, flowing then ebbing…
Porcelain Throne time, so he starts the divebombing,

Having cleaned as best, he can,
Medicationalisationings is his plan,
He does so sometimes painfully, others with elan,
Gets his medications from off of the Ottoman…
Sprays, drops, creams, ointments, some vegetarian!


Stops any bleeding with Brute aftershave, and then began…
Little Inchies Fungal lesion cleaning, a delicate organ!
Tea made, he awaits his carer whichever, Julia or Megan,
Falls asleep and dreams of a two-headed Martian!

Alto-Inchie Observes

This morning’s ablutions got Inchcock to his bolshiest…
The Porcelain Throne did not clear; this did not please!
Five times the water in the tank was replaced…
Struggling to get the lid back on, his lesion began to bleed,
Eventually, the evacuated product blockage was freed,
But he banged his knee, and this he didn’t need!
And for some reason, he peed and peed and peed!

Alto-Inchie on Inchcocks Activities

Inchcock grabbed his Canon, camera,
Into the balcony, he did manoeuvre…

To his amazement… the rusty red van had parked almost between the lines in the proper place, and not on his beloved yellow chevrons! On closer inspection, Inchcock realised some else had parked in his illegal corner on the hatched area, forcing him to try and park his van in the car park – which he very nearly managed between the white guidelines. Haha!,

Mayhaps this time, he returned being sober?
Although he did park correctly last October!

Alto-Inchie: Inchcock Cooks!

Inchcock prepped the meal for Josie, and takes a wee,
Get the ingredient together properly,
Then he fell over majestically…
Well, at least acrobatically…
Now he has a freshly swollen knee…
Arthur Itis hurting, which is obligatory…
He got the chilli-stew cooking, not hassle-free!
Then his Sister rang he…
Then he fell over majestically…
Well, at least acrobatically…
Now he has a freshly swollen knee…
Arthur Itis hurting, which is obligatory…
He got the chilli-stew cooking, not hasslefree!.

Sister Jane and Inchcock, nattered away free…
Until he smelt something burning, to the kitchen he did flee…
Spilt over stew, it was as if the 1812 overture by Tchaikovsky,
Had entered his head, as he panicked, profusely!
He cleaned things up, started again; and felt glee…
He even swore at me!

Alto-Inchie: Handouts in Thanks

He sorted his freebies out, updated, some new,
Including the Mojito ones, he read as Cocktail,
Then found they were non-alcoholic… Wail!
He was fooled by the microscopic printing, that said Mocktail
Still, some of the Nurses and Carers don’t like ale…

Alto-Inchie:

He got Josie’s nosh done and tasted, luck did prevail,
An Accifauxpas delivery route did entail…
He stubbed his toe against the heater rail…
He arrived at Josie’s door feeling frail…
As it opened, he saw she looked hearty and hale!
So with a smile and some banter, he did regale…
Glad she looked so well, chattering he had to curtail…
Cheerily wished all the best, to his nightingale,
Off for another wee-wee he did bail!

Alto-Inchie: Inchcock Broods For A While – Then Brews

A memory shot into his brain, he was mortified,
The thought of The Meadows where he lived…
He supposes the old houses had to be sacrificed,
They were decrepit, with rats, fleas and mice…
Must seem bad to folks; he thought they were nice…
As having alopecia, chickenpox, pneumonia, polio and lice?
We were all poor, sickly, but not at all mystified,
When yet another child got ill and died…
We helped each other, we were unified…
A family of thousands, with fear, denied!

Brew

Inchcock made a Glengettie brew,
Feeling better now, well he would do…
Tea can be good for you…

Alto-Inchie: Inchcock’s Ablutionings

WHOOPSIEDANGLEPLOP!

Computer playing up – I think the end is nigh!

I’ll try to post this.

Inchcock’s Odes to Why?

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

WHY COVID?

Covid-19 and Sars-CoV-2, why they came, is what I’m thinking?
Government confused findings, need reabsorbing…
Pandemic and HMG hold a party, hobnobbing?
Annoyed me, so this Ode I’m now scribing…
Yet, to their rules, I’ve been acquiescing,
Two years now, since any Doctor interfacing,
Definites, the Government are sidestepping?
I feel like I’m permanently convalescing,
Anti-maskers are not exactly applauding…
Anti-vaccers protests showing no signs of concluding,
Jab or mask-wearing? Some are not deciding…
I follow the guidelines, but it can be confusing,
Doing what you can to protect others is frustrating,
Between the Do’s and the Don’ts, there’s bile offloading,
No give or understanding of others, compassion is subsiding,
Sarcasticness abounds, even where I am residing!

Coronavirus arrives, HMG problems beginning,
Changes meant more hassle, problems teething,
Proletariats, needing hopes strengthening,
Some vague chance of things improving…
New strains, deaths, started the mudslinging…
Ordinary voters started teeth-gnashing,
Anti-vaxxers and maskers began badmouthing,
But some uncaring folks just started shrugging,
Accusing HMG of ignorance and gross mismanaging,
The businesses set out to gain more profit – I’m seething!
Indeed, we should be encouraging, not rubbishing?

Official figures are baffling and misleading,
Dyscalculia makes it difficult in reading…
Have the Governments been Shanghaiing?
In favour of financing, from businesses and banking?
Are their advisors’ advising wrongly and failing?
Does their arriere-pensee to us need rethinking?
How do they stop the money-men from sabotaging?
The bankers, investors from profit-pocketing?
Indeed it’s impossible to stop them interfering and scavenging?

And, whatever’s happened to the political duelling?
No calls from Labour, as Kinnock would have been lambasting?
Lib-Dems are still about, are they? I’m just asking!
I think I worked it out; why is the silence blasting?
They both think, thank heavens, we are not ruling…
All this confusion, entangling… they’ve no idea of detangling,
So give Boris no bother, or at the subsequent voting…
The masses may vote for us, and we win… nonplussing!
The thought of us dealing with things is blood-curdling!
Labour in power, cause enough for frightful caterwauling!
Well, that’s enough of my HMG & Covid caterwauling,
Not such a good Ode, this one, it left me… Tsking!

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

WHY AM I SO UNLUCKY?

I’ll start with one event, the heart thing,
That was not unlucky; it did not leave me whining!
This operation saved my life… Else I’d have been missing…
The Hernia, Peripheral Neuropathy and Colin Cramping,
Cancer of the bladder, and stroke, and a lot of bemoaning. Hehe!

Being an unlucky sod can be so time-consuming,
Leaving very little time left for resting and vacuuming,
A Whoopsiedangleplop, maybe the Thought Storms brewing…
A memory loss, missed bus, lost keys or painful burping…
From near-deadly to a tap left running or finger burning,
Ailments, senility and old age means the end of by beep-bopping,
The worst is Vascular Dementia, the brain transitioning…

My diabetes and oedema cause much bother urinating,
Each morning, the feet will be either bloated or very thin,
It’s not so bad since I stopped doing my trampolining,
The tumbling or fallings is constantly threatening…

Neuropathy and Shaking Shoulder Shirley are disquietening!

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

I regularly get subconjunctival haemorrhaging,
Saccades and the new eye problems are definitely worrying,
Floaters, cataracts and glaucoma, almost frightening!
Everything taking longer to do, from the ablutioning…
Painful bending to retrieve dropped items can sting!
Oh, and evacuations on the Throne, and Wee-weeing!

I nearly always cut myself shaving,
Sometimes taking many minutes peeing…
Occasionally, taking only seconds at urine freeing!
The Porcelain Throne, often with evacuation misfunctioning.

Porcelain Throne options for me are; water-like spurting…
Which can be over like lighting!
Or resistant, rock-hard, and bloody,
Either or both are constantly hurting and agony!

Cleaning, me or the flat internally, is so burdening,
Seems nowadays to take an eternity, and much groaning,
Hardly any time for my beloved Word Pressing,
My confidence is egringolering…
My hearing is worsening…
Every task’s success is gimping!

The leaking blood through the plaster was bubbling!
But it was not at all troubling…
Cause actually, it made me do some laughing…
Which I found rather refreshing!

Inchcocks’ True Odes to Life Series

Inchcocks Future Fun Newspaper Headlines

.

Future Sports, Covidity, and Politics, unsung,
Including Boris, Cummings, even Cameron,
I threw myself into creating these, then the phone rung…
Told me the Bank is closing its branch… that’ll be fun!
A bill from the Council, Carers Fees, that stung!
Two weeks ago, Meridian arranged a direct debit…
About as reliable as Norman Tebbit!

Here they are; I hope you get a smile from;

Inchcocks Future Fun Newspaper Headlines

I fang You!

Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

Inchcock Today: A Dream Remembered

Inchcock’s Tuesday Diary & Dream Recollections

I woke around 04:20hrs: With some memories of the dream still prattling about in the brain. I lunged to get the notepad and pencil from the Ottoman; and realised they were lying between my legs, and well scribbled on, too! (Somnambulistic activity?) So I added the new bits to it and left the pages to be used later in my reminiscing of the ultra-weird dream.

Off into the kitchen, no taps, stove or lights had been left on. More amazingly, Shaking Shaun was not affecting the legs again! That’s been around eighteen hours of relief, now!

I took a photo of the clear dark morning sky. And decided not to make a brew of Glengettie, 99, or even the usual refreshing Thompsons Punjana tea; this bothered me!

Something was out of sync here this morning… most likely me! Summat up here! No shaking legs, no toothache, no desire for a mug of tea, not wanting a wee-wee…

However, I maintained my earlier om waking, almost gung-ho, hey-ho outlook, and just pressed on with updating the Facebook, catching up a bit with it anyway. I was humming the door chimes’ tune to myself, not in need of a cuppa, and as I thought I was also not in need of a wee-wee… the flow started. And continued approximately every fifteen minutes and was only taking the occasional swift swig of the spring water?

As I indicated earlier, things seem discrepant, incompatible, and incongruous today. Yet I am not put out by this… at the moment.

Working on Facebook, I came across last nights photograph of my meal. This brought back to me how tasty it was for once. Fresh garden raw peas from Nicaragua, tomatoes from Holland, sausages from Poland, chips from England, and part-baked oven cobs from Ireland. American BBQ sauce. An international feast! That I gave a Taste-Rating of 8.2/10!

I went on the WordPress reader, had a wee-wee, answered some comments, took a pee, readied this blog, had a slash, and the door chime chimed out its ♫Oh, Susana…♫ tune. It was the morning Carer came to sort out my medications. No messing with this gal, all done nada off in eight minutes, kindly taking the waste bags to the chute for me as she departed.

Minutes later, the ♫Oh, Susana…♫ tune chirped up again. This was the Sainsbury’s order arriving. Boy, had I ordered a lot or what? I’d got some cheapo eggs in. Ten for £1.10.

After taking in the items, I managed to get the chuckles into the fridge; first, there was only enough room, and I had to do a bit of jiggling around to get them into the fridge door.

They were mixed in sizes from diddly to small. Hehe! Not that it mattered to me. They were all a lovely deep brown colour.

I knew there was not much room in the freezer, so I only ordered some McCain flavour maker fries. Although I somehow managed to buy three packets of them… £9 spent there!

The first load of fresh stuff into the fridge were, Fresh peas and a milk roll loaf. Humph! Another cock up made, I’d obviously ordered three bags of potatoes, all of a different type.

Ready meal foods next. Five of the prepared meals; four Sausage in onion grainy and sweet potato mash, and one chilli and chips, all watchers, WW! Three packets of cooked bacon. (Guilty!)

Then the costly, naughty, wicked, and guilt-ridden things were put away. Oh, dearie me, yes! Three Lemon Cheesecakes. Mandarin pieces in orange jelly and two fresh cream eclairs… no, that should be doughnuts. Ahem! A substituted for lemon yoghourts. Lemon & Lime Possets. (Ahem!) I’ve never heard of these before, but on reading the ingredients: Double cream, whipping cream, lemon juice, lime juice, sugar, lemon zest, thickener, agar and cornflour – I realised how bad it was, and decided not to eat it, naturally.

I took the rubbish bags accrued by storing the fodder away to the rubbish chute room. Then it happened… The shaking and wobbling started again en route with the bags. Luckily I’d taken the stick with me; thus, I avoided having an Accifauxpa and tumble!

I can’t say the same thing for inside the chute room. Tsk! Nowt too lousy mind, just a trapped finger and back-Pain Brenda kicked off after I knocked the stick over and bent down to retrieve it. I’ve had a lot worse.

I got back in the flat and decided that if things were getting back to normal with the ailments, I’d take an extra painkiller now, have another wee-wee, and get the kitchen floor cleaned while I was still capable. So, I did!

BPB was not too happy with me, but she could have been a lot worse. Arthur Itis was almost nonexistent as I treadmilled mop bucket spinner. I did manage a toe-stubbing in the process, but only a mild effort, so I pressed on with the job, even humming a tune to myself?

Until I emptied the bucket down the lavatory; I gave myself a really good toe-stubbing then! It made me wince a little, and I just may have used a naughty word or two… perhaps, maybe.

That was bad enough, but then I dropped the bucket and got covered in the sweet smell of lemon disinfectanted but dirty water! I hit my knee with the mop stay and generally sank down from my previously almost cheerful state to a genuinely pissed-off with myself semi-depressed!

I was even angry with myself! I may well have growled and questioned my parentage! I’d gone from being practically flippant and almost uncaring, not concerned, to a deep depression instantly! My world had been turned on its head. I knew it had to happen! Back to the lucky bugger I am, that things being almost semi-content, just couldn’t last, and I knew it. Thinking this actually helped me to perk back up a smidgeon.

Go me and the place cleaned up, had a wee-wee, and got on the computer to start this blog. After five minutes, I was back at the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) with a lot of PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling). That needed shaking and wiping – and…

The door chime chimed again; I had to pack things away swiftly, as I saw a shadow had let itself in along the corridor, and I did not want to make whoever it was to laugh by displaying Little Inchy.

Esther, the cleaning lady, came in. Unfortunately, in my rush and haste to get Little Inchy undercover, his Fungal Lesion started bleeding! I couldn’t just leave her and get it medicated, but I don’t think she noticed anything she shouldn’t have. So, I had to grin and bear it.

The gal got straight on with gathering and taking the laundry for me. Esther returned after I’d cleaned and medicated Little Inchies problem. Now I had a little more pain to put up with!

But I coped well enough, back to the usual style of semi-coping and mild agony. Haha!

When Esther returned, I got the new ironing board unwrapped, and the gal got using it quickly. I was amazed at how fast she was doing the ironing for the first time on the new board.

She hung up the clothes in the hallway for me; bless her! After that, I got the chair covers back on and started to feel more my usual self.

Laundry down for me; bless her. A lot of what she said, a little too fast for me, and when I asked her what she said, the volume was too high, and her speed was the same. I hope I’ve not missed anything that was important? I thanked her, and she shot off. She’s a kind thing. ♥

So, I decided to get a mug of tea at last; as I stood up, shoeless, I trod on something hard, sharp and tiny. Can you believe it… I can, Hehehe! It was yet another escaped, dried like granite garden pea! How the heck do I not see or find them earlier? I’ve hoovered the carpet near the computer several times last and once this, and still, it gets missed! It must have been fled weeks ago, to be that hard? Ah, well!

It’s getting dark earlier than ever today. Took a snap of the end car park.

Then back to working on this blog. In between going for a leak, of course. Then fatigue dawned on me, so I stopped to get some nosh sorted.

As I was prepping the fodder, surprisingly, suddenly everything seemed to light up. The sun was having one last attempt at coming through, and I got the camera to snap it. Not a good effort, but still.

Sausages with a drop of onion gravy, carrot and leek potatoes, coiled potatoes finished off in the oven, fresh Nicaraguan garden peas, and a Lemon & Lime posset pot. Not as good as last night’s, but a score of 7/10 for flavour was given.

Washed the pots and back to the chair to eat the posset… Zzzz! Off into a deep sleep, I trundled and had the dream, as I had mentioned earlier…

.

I was in a shopping centre or big market. As I went along, it dawned on me that the three-wheel walker was behind me, and I was pushing a shopping cart ahead; I turned to look for a supermarket where I assumed I had taken the shopping trolley; from… Then noticed that the three-wheeler was following behind, under its own steam? Then as we came to an escalator, I hesitated, and other shoppers were getting annoyed, asking me what the problem was.

I said I can’t get on the escalator with two trolleys… and I got the oddest of looks, and people laughed at me. One woman asked if I’d escaped from somewhere?

“What’s its name?”

“Who’s?”

“The trolley you pillock!” “Tsk! are you poorly or what?”

“I call it my walker?” With which she snapped her fingers and commanded, “Walker… Fly! I thought, even in the dream, something’s not right here? But the three-wheeler raised up like a Darlek in Dr Who and flew gently down to the bottom of the escalator!!! Wait for me at the bottom!”

When I followed the others down, I realised that there were no moving steps, just a controlled cushion of air, that we were using?

And I could see down on the floor below, trolleys of all sorts waiting for their owners and running to their side when they got down. And mine did the same? seeing other folks sending the trolleys to get things from the shops, I tried it… “Walker, Boots, get a large tube of Germolene!” And of he waddled off to the Boots store…

A ganglet of young ladies surrounded me, asking for my signature, and would I sing them a song? Like pricking a bubble, instantly they were all gone?

I sat on a bench, trying to make sense of all this…

I was woken up by Carer Lisa. I didn’t mention the dream.

Lisa did the medications, and she shot off; she was busy tonight.

I got the computer back on and updated this blog.

It’s been an odd day… again!

The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe Series

 

An Alto Ego & Inchies Id Argument

I’m leaving it up to Alto-Ego and Inchie ID to do the blog today. I may add something afterwards, but I’m suffering the dreaded, loathed DD (Dracula Depression) this morning. As annoying as this is, trying to find out why is equally disconcerting. As far as I can tell, nothings changed from last night? Humph!

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

Well, ID, can you explain summat to me?

What? I thought you were Mr Perfect?

You’ve actually got an advantage over me with this problem, Pugface!

Oh, go on then barbed-wire tongue…. let’s hear it, more sarcasm or criticism, is it?

No, no, no. I’ll explain, mate…

Mate! You just called me, mate!

Are you going to answer me or what? Just cause you’re a thick knob-end of an Ego, doesn’t mean we can’t still be pals. Let’s face it, the more we learn, the more we can pester the life out of Inchcock, innit? So we should help each other learn even more things that will irritate our host… Yes?

Go on then, your taking my Inchcock aggravating time away…

No, I’ve just popped into his pathetic brain; he’ll not be up to or responsive to any joshing, bewildering, bamboozling, or distracting this morning…

Just a cotton-picking minute ID, that’s the things we love to do…

I know, but there are some things even more potent than wot we are, and he’s…

He’s got to live a few more years, at all costs, cause if he snuffs it too soon, or even if Inchcock finds some contentment… the IDAEC (Alto-Ego-Consortium) Guidelines, Rules and Cautionary Advice 112,145,23 will come into force. I’ll end up back in the Soul Bank Vaults, for God knows how many years again! So I…

Well, that’s your advantage. I was going to talk about it mush!

Yer, wot?

If you cock-it-up, a couple of hundred years in the Soul Bank Vaults, is nothing – If I gerrit wrong, that’s it, end of this Id, altogether. We don’t get transferred to another human-host yer know! Oh, no, it’s a harsh existence for us Ids.

So? Worrya saying like? I could be in there for thousands of years. You are aware that the only hosts there are cockroaches, ants and rats, are yer?

So what’s wrong with that, then?

I won’t be as easy as host Inchcock; the cockroaches are cleverer than he is!

Hahaha! I just listened to him, you know, a while ago. He was talking to his pets! No, honestly! He really was; I’m not jesting Alto, I even think he heard them answering him, too!

No harm… he loves them, it’s a human trait yer know, or do yer? He does that every morning… Unless he’s had trouble in the Porcelain Throne, that is. There’s no problem with that…

Hogglebogwash! How long can he be in the toilet, for heaven sake?

Well, if his evacuation is one of his rock-solid ones, up to about an hour, on occasions, he’s taken longer. When his fungal lesion bleeds, yer see, he has a grossly painful job on, stopping and medicating things…

Gangleboggleisations! Get yersen in the bog; you can pester him while he’s struggling. Give him hell! Bloody heck, a perfect opportunity for giving out some pilgarlic, pooh-pooing, heckling, vilification and raillery. Hahaha! He won’t be able to concentrate on his Porcelain Throne duties at all – Hehehe! Why we could…

Come off it, you know nothing about my host, does yer? You’ve been in this monstrous wobbly-bellied, old idiot for a week now, but yer not learning owt are yer?

Oh, you are, I suppose, yer gerrin’ as thick and decrepit as Inchcock is, pal… yer on the wane, mentally…

You thick swine, on the wane mentally? What else does yer expect? You might have noticed that neither of us is human. We are ethereal, diaphanous beings, or are you not aware of this?

Watch it pug-face, or I’ll report you to the IDAEC (ID-Alto-Ego-Consortium). You know full well what I meant! I was speaking figuratively, interpretatively, metaphorically, As you are fully aware of; Thunderglobberisations! I thought we’d agreed to be social wiv each other?

Who did? Not me! I’ve not got over you lying to me last week yet… You promised if I signed the IDAEC Guidelines & Cautionary Advice Procedure Adherence 112,145,23, you’d leave this host forever… but no, you are a snotty-nosed ID, aren’t you, so superior… But you being a defrauding, backstabbing, double-crossing, untrustworthy Id that you are, should be reported, not me! Git!

I think you’ve been with this host, Inchcock, for far too long, my old fruitcake! You should just report yourself to the IDAEC as a failure. You’re catching a human beings ailments, such as dementia… No, let me continue…Testicles! If I could, I’d like to tear your head off!.

We’ve already agreed that we are both emblematical, selectively apparitional beings. So tearing my head of would be pointless, don’t you think?

I’m not so sure, Meathead, having never tried to kill anyone before, and as far as I know, no other Id before me has. Perhaps some form of transubstantiating has taken place over the years, and we have acquired the ability to tear off an Alto-Ego’s head? Hehehe!

The same goes for tearing off the head of an Id, indeed?

Ah, I see what you mean. We could, in fact, make history, be the first Id and Alto-Ego to kill each other? Or at least give it a go?

There you go again; you’ve got no morals, have you? What about your Id Oath what you took in training, eh?

Erm, I can’t remember that; it was over three thousand years ago, Dumbo!

Ha! A whippersnapper! Well, for your information, I started off as an Id…

Oh, did you, my friend?

Shut-it! I took the Id oath myself over 5,000 years ago. I seem to remember it went something like, “I shall occupy the given human body as instructed, with the intent of making the host into a big-headed, greedy, parasitic personage within the given period as prescribed by the IDAECC (ID-Alto-Ego-Consortium-College) Trainer on this day (dated). Convincing the host mentioned above that England will win the world cup again, all Politicians will become trustworthy, and America will land a human-crewed rocket with 5000 paying passengers on board on Mars, at the cost of $3.” You remember that bit, Inchie-Id?

No, and I didn’t miss any lectures or training sessions.

Anyway, it’s time I checked on Inhchcock…

No problem, I can hear him talking to his Carers.

Anyway, what was this question you had for me then? Id my old flower?

Oh, yes… I was a little concerned about why the human hosts always get drunk, stabbing or running over other hosts in their tinned transport, each New Year? And why do they welcome getting older so merrily and fire off flaming fireworks into the sky?

Ah, well, it wasn’t always like that, you know…

Tell me what used to happen in the old days Inchie, I’m confused.

Well, in days of yore, the human hosts always get drunk on mead, stab someone, and run over other hosts with the horses and stagecoaches transport, each New Year? And why do they welcome getting older so merrily and fire flaming fireworks into the sky? Then they welcomed in the new year merrily and fire flaming fireworks into the sky?

Well, I never knew that!.

Hello… Inchcocks took a tumble in the shower…

Bags, I get to annoy him first!

Rollock’s!

Me first, being the youngest, Crab-Nose!

You got that arse-about-faced as well! The old ones should get priority!

Arse-about-faced… I like it!

We’ll go together, but I get first scoffing, sneering at, chastising Inchcock?

That’s fair enough, mate, as long as you leave the laughing at and humiliating comments in?.

Done, cocker!

Great mate!

The now two best pals floated through the wall into the wet room with this. But…

Oh, Sod-It! A lot of blood; I think he might be dead?

After all that planning, and arguing too!

Take a close look, see if he’s breathing…

How does yer do that then? I’ve never tried to help a host before?

I’m not sure… erm…

It’s your fault, all that being obstreperous with me!

Clackers!

Bog-Knobs!

Well, one of us must wait around until someone finds the body…

Why?

We’ve got to report it to the IDAEC (ID-Alto-Ego) Records Dep’t…

Why are they going to make a song about it?

Someone might make a song and dance about it, but me? I’ll be back in the IDAEC (ID-Alto-Ego-Consortium) Soul Bank Vaults.

Ain’t these human hosts heartless, dying just like that!

Pigs!

Baskets!

Does yer think the Carers will find him int morning then?

I suppose so… hang on, where’s he keep the cans of plonk for the Carers?

Oh, yes, what does yer fancy mate, Vodka and lime. G & T, Pimms, Mojito, Tequila beer, Strongbow, or Rum & Coke, Id?.

Yea!

Inchies Make Them Laugh Series

TTFN