Ageing humour

Inchie: Thursday 4th September 2025

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

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Dad thought Mother a bit of a load,
Cause I was confused between load and lode,
As I was with mowed and mode…
Also, concerning cold, code and chode,
Bathrobe, overload, overroad, and outmode,
Forward, forbade and forebode,
Clawed, clewed, conclude and concrewed,
Dad was more concerned with what we owed,
I never showered, nor was I empowered,
Mother didn’t smile, but she glowered…
Debt collectors; now those she feared,
Arguing, fighting is all I heard,
Then be warned not to say a word!
The violence, in my brain, was intaglioed,
Fear of their hatred was installed,
Life seemed to be ornimentalled,
Dad paid the bills, Mother would be bailed,
It’s no wonder I grew up befuddled,
Years later, I got Dementia installed,
Not surprisingly, I was mentally bepommelled,
As a lad, I was socially bethralled…
In adulthood, I’ve been shot, mugged & burgled,
Sacked, made bankrupt, and vitriolised,
Now, in old age, I finally realised…
My usage of language is unsyllabled,
Looking back at the choices made, I’m appalled
My Whoopsiedangling was unparalleled,
Chopping my own confidence, it was felled,
My cerebrum and I are unreconciled,
If we ever were a unit, thoroughly combined,
Now the seizures, these I don’t mind,
But the aftereffects can drive me wild,
They recovering can leave me unbeguiled,
Physically at the mildest, unbalanced,
Mentally, thoughts are hampered & impeded,
The filling catheter pouch may not be noted.
The flow-back pains can be noticed,
But bending too early to get it emptied,
It’s dangerous, & shouldn’t be preempted
You realise you shouldn’t have absquatulated,
Until back in control and reacclimated,
After recovering from a mini-seizured,
Can any more ailments be accommodated?
November; I’m due for an operation, to be trephined,
At least the procedure to be assessed & defined,
High-Mood Horis is currently in my mind…
I hope Depression Daruis leaves him unthwarted,
There’s one other thought that should be reported…
I’m hoping Starmer gets hung, drawn & quartered!
Can a thought like that ever be bettered?
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05:30hrs: I’d been lying here in bed for a few minutes trying to get back to sleep again. I pondered for a second or two on what or why I had shot awake with such violent vigour. Had I stayed there, it would have become apparent, but unfortunately, I almost hopped off of the bed, removed the nocturnal night pouch from the day bag, and rose on my feet and legs… I shouldn’t have done that, and should also have known what was about to happen. But I didn’t then; it all became apparent the moment I lost my balance and crumpled to the floor. Hitting my head on the way down was of little hindrance.

My self-lamabsting was. How I didn’t recognise that I was in a seizure when I burst back into grim wakefulness is beyond me. Then, to add idiocy to the dumbness, I even stood up so quickly. 
What a nitwit, doofus & idiot I am! 
So, being as I’d landed with my back against the back of the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner, and was not injured or in pain, I stayed down there for a few minutes until the brain rebooted on its own accord.

The best bit about this tumble was where I had it. Perfect place to use the recliner and bed in combination, to get myself upright again. And although a painful exercise, I was soon feeling a lot better, lost some of my inner temper, and greeted the welcome, but unexpected arrival of ! Who was more than a blessing in disguise. He helped me not worry about the Porcelain Throne pain. There was plenty of that in this morning’s lengthy battle to force things into action from the rear-end. Each of the four depth-charge-shaped clumps that evacuated took it in turn to escape.

I washed, then made a brew of Detox tea, which I left to steep for 20 minutes, before going to change the clock calendar dates. But didn’t. I opened CorelDraw, and the oddest things seemed to be happening. 
When I loaded last night’s photographs and attempted to save them, I received odd messages indicating that the system cannot save this file due to a link with a Swiss font being attached. I couldn’t understand the details that followed, but I chose option two, and they saved. After saving a bout eight, the message stopped coming up each time I saved. Then, on about the 14th, it came back on again. This time, I foolishly chose the left one. The warning came up, and I had to select the following ten final photographs. Later on, it saved without a screen for me to select saving options from. I hope this will not change the blog when it’s been published.

Now I am panicking a little. I’d forgot about the Detox tea with the CorelDraw problems. So into the kitchen to have it cold, and…
Muggins here had left the hot tap running. Another day without hot water, a shower, a shave… Grrr!

Then, of back to the wet room for Porcelain Throne visit number two. Another marathon job, but without the assistance of , proved to be more challenging work and seemed a lot more painful. The evacuating torpedo, a beast of a thing, clunked the porcelain loudly when it finally escaped the clutches of Constipation Conrad. So hard & noisily, I feared it might have cracked the basin!


Handsome, male-model-like Carer Ejaz arrived. Did a good job changing the catheter bag, issuing medications, and applying cream to the legs and feet. Graded the nighttime catheter pouches wee-wee as a 4½ on the NHS Richter scale. Ejaz checked the use-by dates in the refrigerator for me. None is out of date. A good lad.

I should have put this photo on the right in yesterday’s blog. I think that I didn’t. It is of a J Sainsbury pack of Triple Cook Chips, Taste the Difference 400g £3.25. It looks like a Special Offer of some free diseased chips has been added to the tray again.
The label says there is a Taste Difference within?
Well, you can’t argue with that, can you? Hehe!

My mind was wandering a little, but, of course, that’s perfectly normal for me.
I belatedly changed the clock-calendar thingies. Oh, and made another mug of Detox tea.

Started to update the Wednesday blog. But…
CORALDRAW FROZE.
I was drawn into a place distant, certainly nowhere near me now. But Darius was persistent and got a smidge deeper every time I made a mistake, or one of the Oh, so many computer problems occurred! I turned off CorelDraw, gave it a few minutes, and then rebooted. That was the plan. At this stage, Carer Nimra arrived. She tried ringing the Audio Centre for me, but couldn’t get through, just an AI recording. She called her ICC boss, and they agreed to make an appointment for me and let me know when it is. Then another mammoth asked to ring Easy Link to see if they could give me a lift on the day.

It went all dark… the rain poured and the thunder thundered. No lighting as far as I know.
I took three shots from the kitchen window.
To the right.
To the left.
Straight ahead. Seemed to change colour?

Then a shot of the end of the car park.
Did you notice something different?
Two cars were parked on the lines, and the red car had to park in a parking bay.
They’ll be annoyed!

Carer Nimra took the waste bag with her for me.

Meals Delivered.
The full selection.
Below is a closer view of each.
I tried an all-day breakfast this time.
Veg Korma, Cumberland Pie.
Vegetable Lenyil and Steak hotpots.
I just wish they were larger portions. Hehe!

Meal of the Day
Baked potatoes with no-butter butter & a pinch of salt. Five different types of tomato. Fish sticks, and a red spring onion sliced up.

As I did the washing up, I took this late view from the kitchen window.
A pareidolia’s delight with these clouds.

🤎 Best Wishes Sent to All 🤎

Inchie: Wed 3 Sept 25 Mini-Seizure Clusters

/ Inchie / 16 Comments

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I couldn’t help the first thing, being born, 
Getting thrown in the canal at Halthorn,
Mother and Joan of Arc for being a Capricorn,
I wish I could have avoided being earthborn,
Mother didn’t want me; she ran off to Eastbourne,
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My canoodling days, I spent happily in revelry,
Then a burglar decided to shoot me,
No praise for stopping the burglary 
I nearly got the sack, I was thirty-three,
I tried to share things, antediluvially,
Shot again, got the sack, started the despondency.
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I’ll have to stop doing this eventually,
In fact, due to seizures, each one is a shortie,
Cruel after-effects, taking longer in recovery,
If I ever get the blog started, midnight a departee,
So far behind, hours lost, Anne Gyna is having a party,
Today’s seizures are rampant, I’ve never had so many…
I’ll have to try again on Thursday morning.
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Not feeling too well this merry morning. After four hectic, go-wrongable days, I’d hoped things might improve for me today. In fact, they did, whoopsiedangleploppery-wise. But, a new one today. A series of short mini-seizures started just before midday. I’ve lost count of how many. Each time, the recovery was taking longer and longer. Mt concentration was so bad. I was not getting the time to fully recuperate each time, and it felt like the next seizure recovery time… I’m just saying, getting back to semi-normality was impossible. I found myself going off track, which meant I couldn’t catch up on the blog. No time for the WP reader or comments again. I shall call the District Nurse if this lasts much longer. As I recall, my wanderings took me off track for the day. I split some boxes, tore them up into bags, and then took them along with the waste bins to the rubbish chute.
And I could have left them for the Carer’s to do, and most importantly, in moments of clarity, I kept urging myself to get on with the Ode and blog. Then I started, and was hoovering the room and hallway… not that I can recall much of this incident. Because the seizure would not subside. Well, they did ease off from about 17:00 hours to 20:00 hours… at least I think they did.
I’d taken photos and got a few on CorelDraw, but not on the blog gallery. Some I cannot recall taking.
Yet I coped, unhappily and grumpily, I admit, with the previous hell-days problems. I’ve been mentally all over the place today. Yet, I still managed to jot down some notes on the pad.

I may phone Matron about this Mini-Seizure barrage in the morning, even if the seizures stop altogether – I cannot cope with repeated short seizures. Having said that, it is the first time I’ve had so many, so close to each other. During any longer breaks between the seizures, I was another person. I swear I can recall laughing and joking with Carers’ Ejas and Nimra. At times, just until the subsequent recovery was needed. And I experienced some great moments despite Sanda’s Mini-Seizures.

I’ll see how things go on Thursday.
(Thursday morning, now) I’ll have to cut down on detail, not that they were entertaining anyway. To save time. Giving myself a chance to catch up.

Health Check Monitoring this morning, Carer Ejaz double-checked the returning figures for me later on, gave out medications, diabetic socks were put on, and a body check was carried out.He checked prescription medications…
,
And no prescription ones in the wet room.

Cragnangles! Done it again!
Wrong week for the Ocado order!
,
At least I’ve got some bread now, hehe!
Mor favourites too!

Seizures kicked off, I’ll say no more!
Well, maybe just, ARRGH!

Late afternoon, teatime.
Carer Nimra, I think, pointed out the state of my right leg. Next call, Ejaz put some Cetraben cream on the area, and it was much calmer in the morning.

,
I took this while recovering from the last bout of Seizures; they did not return after this. The odd single one, but with plenty of time to recover. Nice!

Three snaps of the rain on the kitchen windows.
Straight ahead.
To the left.
To the right.

The shot below was taken after I’d made, eaten and pictured the feast. But could not find the food photo in the morning to use? Another of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, & spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Depressing Duncan, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, and logicality were already on the wane.

Now, I’m having to contend with Sandra’s Mini-Seizure-Stampede. Grrr, Kragnancles and Flipping-heck come to mind. But, of course, they didn’t bother me in the slightest; I just laughed them all off. There is a slight modicum of a chance here that.

Despite these Seizure stampedes, there is one thing that they could not stop me getting, HMH;
I think my estimate of the division between Evil & Heaven is accurate. I may not have been as high a percentage for HRH. However, the relief gained while he was here was priceless.
I think without these High-Mode-Horis moments, I could not go on. They are better than any of the medications I’m on. The ‘Sod-them-all’ sensation that accompanies Horis is so unlike me; I’ve always been a worrier. In fact, I’m now worrying how I will cope without them. They came from an uncontrollable, weird entity… my own brain. How, why, I know not?
The only Anti-Depression-Darius Succes, without it, I’d be in a right mess.
Sorry about that bit of self-analysis. I wish the Neurologist would read this blog.

Kitchen window view.

🤎 GENTLY GOES IT 🤎

Inchie: Tuesday 2nd September 2025

/ Inchie / 11 Comments

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I was never happier than when I was canoodling,
I recall when the urge was first brewing…
1952, Christine at school, and bikeshedding,
I was shy, and she was bodybuilding,
Things I’d not seen before, I found amazing.
These adventures I found benchmarking…
At that stage and age, it was only fondling,
In 1956, we were barbecuing,
She was learning typing & bookkeeping,
I was street gas lamp lighting & snuffing,
Our routine became more challenging,
Groping, sharing and mingling…
Pairing, discovering and ogling,
Sauciness skills accumulating…
Temporarily ego-boosting!
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MEMORABLE EVENTS FOR THIS DATE
Include World War II’s official end with the formal surrender of Japan in 1945, the 1966 Great Fire of London beginning, the UK’s adoption of the Gregorian calendar in 1752, and the observation of World Coconut Day in recent years. 
A little less known, was on this day in 1952, WP Blogger Inchie, a six-year-old back then, was thrown off of Wilford Street Canal bridge by a motley gang of yobboes. Ending up resurfacing and clinging on for dear life to a rope hanging from the British Waterways barge. His hand frowing colder the longer the time went. Needless to say, he was scared stiff. He was prepared to lose his grip and go down and drown. But strong hands grabbed him, lifted him up and put him into a boat. A policeman took him home.
He got belted by Father for coming home soaking wet and dripping all over the linoleum.

Today made me all behind again, Humph!
Carer Ejaz performed a body check, administered medications, put on diabetic socks, monitored Health Check, and checked the food dates in the fridge. Two items were dished.

Took a balcony shot of the end car park, which had a little mud slide from the overnight rain, but it’s now cleared up.
Asda Deliver
The driver put the things in Iceland carriers for me.
Selection of favourites.
A few more…
I now have a good stock of spring water and soda waters. These keep the bladder working.

Vyne Delivery. I expected to find the catheter contraption spares, but instead, I found a packet of Barrier Cream sachets and some catheter pouch bags.

Two minutes later, the Amazon-supplied self-propelling wheelchair arrived. I struggled to get it into the hallway, but managed to put the Cream and bags on top of the wheelchair box.
Carer Nimra arrived and checked the barrier and catheter pouch cover.
We got the wheelchair into the balcony for assembling later. ,
Not much room.
Showing the damage to the wheelchair box on arrival. Nimra counted a total of 22 holes, tears and/or crushed corners. 

Carer Ejaz called. He took down the laundry, returned, and then attempted to erect the wheelchair.
This is as far as we got, (he) got with it, and we ran out of time. In between, Ejaz went down to move the washing to the dryer, then returned and had another go at getting the leg pad and brakes fitted. He managed to get one on. 

Going to get vague from here on, no notes on the pad. And I had the worst response to coming out of a seizure than I’ve ever had. This toyed with my brain, balance and patience.

Carer Mizra had bought the prescription medications.

L made a meal of potatoes and peas. No bread,
I thought I’d taken a photo, but there is nothing on the SD card.

It was a Bad Night – Full of blanks, depression, and those short, silly seizures, which left me puzzled and confused.

What a puddling day. Still, I’ve had worse!

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Inchie: Monday 1st September 2025

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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My brain and I are not closely connected,
We used to be so well integrated…
But, Doreen Dementia & my brain affiliated,
Peripheral Neuropathy, as it was expected,
His neurotransmitters got disconnected…
The link twixt brain & limb was disassembled,
Messages sent, get all broken up, entangled,
Messages received are not easily deciphered,
At times, words can’t be spoken, expressed,
Limbs won’t go where told to or directed,
With confusion I regularly get encintured,
I find little problem when being seizured,
It’s the after-effects that get me fanted,
Wooziness and unsteadiness are guaranteed,
Rare problems peeing, now I’m cathetered,
The release valve has often leaked,
You pee on the floor, your slippers & feet,
It’s a problem if your hearing aids break…
An appointment? I waited five weeks, mate,
Nurses, Carers, they can’t accommodate,
Glaucoma, deaf, bonkers, what a state,
Loneliness, guilt, bring on my self-hate,
Daily actions are so easy not to complicate,
Yesterday I broke a mug and a plate,
Taps left on, fridge door open, continuate,
More often than not, my mind is perplexed,
I involuntarily pass gas, break wind, flatulate,
Get to the bog on time? Too often I’m too late,
Eventually, one realises they are too inadequate,
Little joy, happiness, you can’t cohabitate,
Slowly turning into a nursing home candidate!
I realised coping is not going to be too intricate,
At first, I thought we just had to invocate…
That doesn’t work, let me relate…
Each Nurse, Warden & Carer knows of my sad state,
How do I get my flu jab to my Neurosurgeon date?
But how to cope? No need to machinate…
These problems: how to alleviate?If you can get FND, PN, & many a seizure,
High-Mode-Horis will follow, I’m certainly sure,
HMH is a “Sod-em-all mood”, & such a pleasure!
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After taking an age to fall asleep, despite feeling so weary and tired, I kept jerking awake. Courtesy of , I’ve missed him lately, but he’s back again now. Other much unmissed ailments have been Duodenal Donald and Arthur Itis. The perennial Anne Gyna, the Sandra’s Mini-Seizures and Galucoma Gladys seem well-settled into their LNI (‘Let’s Nobble-Inchie mode). Earache Erasmus eased of this morning, but is back again now. Toothache-Tiffany only bothers me if I drink anything hot or cold, eat anything, cough, sneeze, clean my teeth (what few I’ve got left), or laugh out loud. (Of course, there’s not a whole lot of that about lately.)

05:30hrs: The nocturnal Urine was a 5 on the NHS scale. I was a little bit out of it when I got up, a smidge off-balance and confused. All signs of a nighttime seizure, but I’m guesstimating, of course. 
Yet, I remembered to make a mug of Dettol tea as I went to visit the Porcelain Throne. No, that’s not right; a mug of Detox tea. (Sausage & hostage?)

I settled into the disabled raised plastic seat and retrieved the crossword book. Given that all the signs suggested it would take time and effort to get the movement started. And it did!
However, I ignored the crossword book as an inspiration for a tale of woe blog came to me. I used the inside cover of the crossword book to make some memory notes. The ideas were coming at me at a rate of knots, thick and fast. For several minutes, I also ignored the non-moving rear-end evacuations blockage. Until the pain started. That caught my attention. It took another few minutes of urging, pushing, and tears coming down my cheek before the flow began… well, not a flow, it was like slow motion as the torpedo finally edged its way out.
Kerplonk! Thud, splash! I just stayed there, adding bits to the notes I’d written. Of course, most of them were unreadable. Hehehe!

Now, I was eager to create a storyline and a graphic of some sort as a header for the extra blog piece.
Onto the computer, no wash, no shave, no medicationings. As I was about to start the story, I remembered that Matron would call on me from Monday to Thursday, and the Social lady would visit sometime this week. So, I updated some things that I needed help with for both ladies, just in case they came today. (They didn’t).

I drank the Detox, made a proper mug of extra-strong Typhoo tea, and started on the story. Made a graphic to use as a header for the blog page (Left). I thought it best not to inform anyone of what I was doing when I conceived the idea for the tale. Haha! 

Then, in mid-creation, Carer Ejaz arrived. He issued the medications and spotted two possible mini oedemas on my right leg, which were no worse. Carer Nimra reported this to the District Nurses yesterday. A nurse is due to check them today, apparently. We spoke, well, I did, about the Audio Clinic appointment to get my hearing aids repaired, which was requested over five weeks ago, and nothing has been done yet. He will consult with his manager and get back to me regarding this matter. He then put the diabetic socks on for me and did a quick body check.

I returned to the story blog and, upon realising I hadn’t updated yesterday’s blog, rushed a bit, but then stopped myself upon noticing that, as I reread it, there were many more applicable words I could have used. So changed some of them to keep the humour side alive in the story. I’m hoping I got them right. Then I got on with updating the Inchie blog. Posted it off, and back to the story tale blog. By gum, I was determined today.
When I restarted the story, the most welcome visitor of the day developed in my brain.
His ability to create instant notions of a “Sod-Em-All” nature is so precious. Naturally, I knew it was not going to last long, and I seemed to appreciate the freedom from worry all the more! If only I could summon him whenever I needed him.
I imagine him being a bit like A young Spike Milligan, on form.

Back to the Time Traveller Tale. With still with me, things seemed to flow a lot more freely, and I changed a couple of sentences.

I took the photos for today’s blog using CorelDraw, and I had a slight fear of another infamous CorelDraw calamity. To be on the safe side, I ran CCleaner first.

After midday, Carer Nimra visited. I mentioned the Audio situation, and she called her manager. Later, I was asked if the Wednesday call could be rescheduled for a Thursday, so someone could ring the Audio Clinic. I agreed. I didn’t realise that the laundry room has always been very much busier on a Thursday. That is why we made the longer call for Wednesday. Too late now. No, it’s not! Although it leaves us with the same laundry problem. When Ejaz made the last call, he phoned his office and changed the longer call from a Thursday to a Tuesday, and it’s no longer on a Wednesday. I’ve lost the plot now!

Back to the plot.
I went out to look at the walker and wheelchair on the balcony. Still a smidge confused.
The thick clouds, now that the rain had stopped, looked so fresh and almost pretty to me. Then so do many traits in nature.

A shot of the local dwellings from the balcony, this proved painful for me. I had to lean out of the window to get the angle needed, and the catheter tube caught against the wheelchair and tugged at Little Inchie and his fungal lesion. The next shot was delayed while I stopped and cleaned up the blood from my testicles and legs! Tsk!
I’d like to take the opportunity to tell you how excellent these chip shop chips taste. If I ever get the time, I should be having some tonight. Well, it’ll be morning by then. Lovely!
Iceland sell them. £3 a bag.
But it’s worth it, I can assure any chip-loving reader!

Rain...
Rain…
Oh, it stopped!
Mudslide from the rain. Red car again.

Ah, a decent night shot with plenty of brown in there.
Just caught a bit of the sun on its way down.

Ejaz, on his last call, took this one. Kodak Tim 2.

Food!

CHEERIOski!

A Time-Travellers Tormentingly Troubled True Tales – Part One

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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In 1950, I went on holiday to Wales. I lodged in Tintern village. It was steeped in history, with stone pubs and the evocative ruins of Tintern Abbey, dating back to the 12th century.  With its Devil’s Pulpit legend, a local myth about the Devil tempting monks from a rocky outcrop above the abbey ruins, to sin, debauch & have a good time. 
This fable interested me, and on the first morning, instead of going fishing, I ventured up the rock-strewn precipice up to the Abbey Grounds and into a large wooded area. Where, the locals told me, many poachers had been found with their throats cut. With the Devil tempting monks from a rocky outcrop above the abbey ruins, to sin, debauch & have a good time… I wondered if he was still in there…

I came across a very old wishing well and casually threw in a penny, wishing I could see the Devil’s Pulpit. Well, you would have, wouldn’t you? As an afterthought, I lobbed in a threepenny bit, and asked to be given the power of time travel – I turned my head and all around me was devastation, no plants, animals or people. Then, right next to me, a sort of spaceship appeared from nowhere. Out of the ship came three men in uniforms with some kind of weapons, and they dragged me into their craft. 
No one spoke to me; they clouted me around the head and kicked me in the goolie occasionally, but no one spoke. I thought I must be dreaming. Then realised the blood coming from my newly acquired wounds was real. Within a couple of minutes, I was put in a large room and hung up on the wall. It looked very hygienic and clean, so I wouldn’t have been at the old Abbey. 
An hour passed, and I took a glance at the police officers of some sort, by looking at their uniforms. They cut me down. Then pointed to the open door, still not speaking to me. They had floating on air vehicles. I was put alone in one of the seats, and it took me through several walls, rooms, out over some turfing, and into what was obviously a court of some sort. Whatever they were in this massive room, they spoke to me in good English.
I can’t recall the exact words, but it went along these lines: James Timothy Gerald Algernoon Chambers, also known as Inchie, is charged with operating a time machine in a careless, uncontrolled fashion, causing damage to the flora and fungi in Sector 114/TT in the Republic of Wales this day, Thursday, 324th of Junnock 4025. How do you plead?
“I haven’t got a time machine!”
“Liar! His Lordship, the Devil’s Pulpit, issued you with one in 1951, that’s how you go here!”
“Well, I was the wishing well and…”
“Hold it, more evidence coming in…”
“It seems to have attempted to bribe the Wishing Well with extra funds to get time-travel, according to our records.” 
“You know full well that each time machine operates differently, I mean, you wouldn’t drive a Sinclair 5013688014956BEX the same as you would a TREX05, now would you? That’s obvious to anyone!”.
The man with three eyes interrupted the four-eyed judge: “Are you saying you are operating a Time-Machine without a Licence?”
“Well… yes!”
There was an aghast sound from the gallery, with the odd, “Hang-Him! Cut-of-his-goolies! Give him life!.
A spoke up in protest, “That’s not fair!”
“It’s the law, Inchie. You will be beheaded on the guillotine in…”
A bald man rose and pleaded for mercy for me.
“M’Lord, can we not show mercy? At least make an appeal to our barrister-minded Saviour, His Everythingness Head Wallah, for mercy – naturally throwing in a decent backhander for Starmer?

Hahaha!
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There’s more to come on this!

Inchie: Sunday 31st August 2025

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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I’m worried about the Grim Reaper,
Not visited in August, now it’s September!
Has something changed his agender?
Last we met, he spoke of a nymph named Rusalka,
A female creature who seeks souls not after…
death, but before, & ferry them to Purgatory,
Each is an illegal immigrant soul-gatherer,
They come in dreams, offering virgins for a fiver,
The Virgin Goddess of the Hunt, Dziewona,
I’ve missed my designated soul-collector,
He was straight-talking, no verbal garniture,
For my last day, he promised me fresh golonkowa…
With sourdough bread & pickled cucumber,
I thought a moment ago that I could smell vinegar,
He said he’d get me in a cell with souls of kvetchers,
He guaranteed to keep me safe from Herr Starmer,
And his lies, bullying and moratoria…
I couldn’t have asked for better…
Me, a mentally-challenged failed rhymester,
When I die, decease, perish, & meet St Peter,
I leave this mortal coil, led by my Grim Reaper,
He will try to become my permanent Carer,
It’s love, I think, though it sounds macabre,
Gawd, I hope he wasn’t a leg-puller!
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She was still shaking when I stirred at 06:15 hours. (Another late one). That might teach me not to shoulder-charge the wetroom door frame… at least, not so often. I had to laugh at myself when I reached down to retrieve the nocturnal catheter bag for emptying – it showed I was still on edge from yesterday’s mishaps. I used my left hand to hold the shoulder in case she had loosened the joint with her overnight rattling and shudderings. Haha! Now, a laugh upon waking may be a sign that things will go better today. Mind you, look what happened to Hitler when he attacked Russia.

Very few photos and news on the blog today. I must try to at least complete yesterday’s blog. If I have the time, I need to complete the 30 templates for September. I know, not a cat-in-hells chance. But I must at least try.
Oh, no, just remembered I can use Jetpack, like I did last month. I did it in half the usual time. Now, if only I could remember how I did it. Never mind, there are still unknown challenges to come. Do I sound a smidgeon pessimistic? 
First kitchenette shot

Evacuation Conrad Constipation Controlled.

Carer Nimra. Body Check. 
Some new blood-filled swelling was spotted.
They were not painful, but Nimta called the Community Nurses. They will send someone to inspect the area. Later decided Monday, not today. This will be no problem.

Amazingly, I completed the templates in record time, despite dealing with numbers.

Morning snap

Seizures are getting frequent. I spent ages in repeated recovery times, doing nothing.

Afternoon…
cloud…
photos.

Hours & hours doing blogs.

TTFN

Inchie: Sat 30 Aug: Yet another lousy day! Confusion Konrad, Depression Darius, Sandra Seizures, but little High-Mood-Horis!

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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Where do I leave my words of perspicuity?
I’ll try to explain to you clearly,
Mayhap inside a time capsule,
Where do we bury it? In a school,
Perhaps a police station or hospital?
All three will be run by the Oligarchy,
Used by backhanergivers & the aristocracy,
If Herr Starmer gets his way,
What goes in our time capsule?
The lies of Herr Starmer, the fool?
His standards? Self-motivated & dual…
Kiers lies, barriserial & political?
I, like millions, look forward to his burial!
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What a day! The agony started as soon as I woke up. I was in fact enjoying the peace of being in a seizure, unaware of that, of course, it seems the only way to get any sleep and stay in it nowadays, but the recovering after effects were pretty harmful, as per usual. The door chime rang, stirring me cruelly back to reality. But my confusion and balance were all over the place. Getting out of bed took that long; the chime stopped. I continued the battle to get on my feet and carried the nocturnal bag with me to save time, to reach the panel when they called back, and to unlock the door.
In the rush and confusion, I got the catheter bag caught on the corner shelf as I exited the room… Knocking off and breaking a small ornament I kept in memory of my wonderful Aunty Kath. Amidst all the panic, Depression Darius joined me, with Frustration Frank and a rare visitor, Fearful Fred. I was aware that the confusion and panic were coming from the seizure recovery, but that didn’t help.
When I unlocked the door,  and, daft as it sounds, I had no idea what day or time it was, which panicked me further. I’d had no rest & recovery time, do you see? I’ve no idea what happened, just a few odd bits, of which I’m not certain anyway.
When Carer Nimra came in, I was back sitting on the bed with my head in my hands. (The head hadn’t fallen off, Hehe!) No recollection of much of what took place. Lots did, cause there was a full page of scribbled notes about it. Undecipherable, so I must have written them while still recovering after Carer Nimra had departed. The last bit I could read… I went into another seizure as Nimra left. I recall her telling me to sit down, I’m going now… There was nothing the gal could do anyway. Bless her. I got back on the bed. I think it was minutes later, I came back to reality, and all the after-effect symptoms had, as expected, returned. I was not going to risk getting up too quickly or soon after being forced to; that was not a pleasant experience.

I rose carefully about 15 minutes later. Grabbed Willie the Wooden Walking Stick. Off to the kitchen to steep a Detox bag in water. I visited the Porcelain Throne. Feeling more comfortable and with it as time passed. A 100% turnaround in the evacuation. Hard work, painful and bloody session. Yet a nice change from the last eight sloppy, wet, spattery Trotsky Terence cleaning up-after trips.

Later, I found this shot of the trees & bushes on the front of the flat’s walkway and carpark. I can’t recall when, or even if, I took it.

There were numerous issues with CorelDraw and the SD reader; in fact, it completely crashed. Boy, was I struggling with fitting the new one. Yes, I was!
I got the new SD reader out of its box. The SD cards now have to be inserted upright, which my Cramp-ridden, arthritic, and Peripheral neuropathy-affected fingers were reluctant to let me do. The more I use it, the easier it might get. It features several additional benefits, including a turn-on/off button for each socket. Which will be no use to me if I can’t find out how to replug it in the back of the computer.  
I was leaning forward to plug in the one… and PN’s dying neurotransmitters, shot the wire from my grip… They often perform similar actions, such as preventing me from gripping something or not allowing me to release something. I’ve broken countless mugs and plates. You may have noticed I no longer use plates, only paper ones or metal ones. This can be a problem when removing a hot dish from the microwave or oven, and I’m unable to release the hot dish or tray. You may have noticed the number of burns I collect. Haha! 
I was nearing the point of accepting that forgetting the socket for us and losing the plug wire would cause a terminal issue here. Carer Nimra arrived at just the right moment. At my point of despair…
She knew which socket to use and inserted it for me.
WALLAH! And I then had a new SD reader that worked
YeeHaa! No, double, even treble YeeHaa! 
Bless her cotton socks!
But, more good news! I  know, you are not used to getting good news from Inchie Today.
I put the mousse and keyboard senders in the last two plugs, and the SD reader in the next one. There are on/off buttons for each connection! I then grilled Nimra, asking what had taken place this morning, saying I couldn’t recall. She calmly told me I was all over the place verbally and physically. But don’t worry, you coped well with it all. I realised she’d not put the diabetic socks on, but had given me the morning’s prescription medications. So I spent the day sockless, Herhehe! Undoubtedly, this saved the day for me and was what spurred a short, but pleasantly acceptable visit from ! Then… No chance to start yesterday’s blog update yet. Because the frustratingly unreliable CorelDraw started playing up, and after sorting out the failure to save the page was due to a lack of memory, I pondered what I could do about it.

Going into a seizure, the length of reading War & Peace, compared to the usual 2 to 15 minutes, did me no good at all. I cannot judge how long it lasted, but it must have been a long one, because the after-effects and recovery time are always easier after a lengthy seizure. Also, the mug of Glengettie tea that I’d made was now stone cold! And, getting the brain to concentrate was a lot easier than after one or a series of .
I summoned as much intellectualisation as Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Mavis could muster, to try and find a solution to my problem with CorelDraw. Graphic artists worldwide have to do this regularly, I’m sure. So, having pondered, the best I could come up with was to use CCleaner and hope it creates enough space in the process. So, I did.
I had closed Excel and Word, then Google, and after saving the work, I ran CCleaner. It allowed me to keep CorelDraw open. (Sadists! Haha!) CCleaner claimed it had removed 2500 KB from the hard drive and 967 KB from the drive. This looks good, I thought.
Back to CorelDraw to try to save the work again. I opened Google, was going to go back to CorelDraw…

That went well… I waited, and waited for the windows to update. Not sure if I fell asleep or not. What day is it? What was I doing?
I had confidence once back on CorelDraw that CCleaner must have removed enough to save the artwork. I tried – it didn’t work. I screamed, wailed, spat & cried. My language was a bit crude.
I lost all the photographs when CorelDraw froze again! I did cry this time!

Then, yet another cock-up was made! I seem to be becoming an expert on these.
Amazon sent me an email stating that the £149 wheelchair, which had received adverse reports, had been cancelled. I promptly placed an order for one of the £184 models with handbrakes on the handles for the Carer or pusher, but with self-propelling wheels. I was thrilled that I might be able to get out and about on my own.
I realised that I had not checked the comments on this model, so I did. They were a replica of the comments on the £149 model???
But it had been a terrible day for me, and I was getting more and more tired and sleepy now, after suffering enough problems, Whoopsiedangleplops and frustrations to last me over the last few days for the rest of my life. Well, maybe. I’m still far behind with blogging than I’ve ever been. I frustratedly gave up on the computer and got my overdue Ablutions done.
The seat marks under my arm had worsened significantly overnight. I’ll ask the Carer to use the barrier cream and remind them to remove all traces of the old cream, then clean the area with baby wipes. This is only if I remember to ask whoever comes. As ‘Forgetters go!’, I think I deserve an award for my sheer dogged persistence, regularity, & stupidity.
I almost had myself over when I washed my feet in disinfectant in the bowl while shaving, getting only one cut! It did bleed a bit, mind you.
I foolishly decided to get a short-sleeved black kagoule hand-washed and rinsed, then hung it up in the wet room to dry on the shower curtain rail. As I turned to leave the room… I shoulder-charged the door edge. Which set off on one of her vicious attempts to dislodge the ball from the socket! Not that this actually surprised or upset me, it was just another cog, pain and annoyance on my way to total insanity. I’m not ready for considering suicide yet, cause I still have dreams of someone assassinating Starmer; I’d hate to miss that, and it would give a little lift, and laugh. I’ve paid for my funeral. I told the Carer where the details are. Not that I’m in any rush. Oh no, but if things carry on as they are… well!

I’m assuming that I had a seizure. I came back and was mopping the kitchen floor with the speed mop. The storage trolley was out of position, I’d moved food from a cupboard onto the floor near the radiator, and opened both windows. I’d been busy during my ictus? No one has explained to me how this can be so. Impossible to happen, surely?
Now this had happened before. If I recall rightly, it was the same as last time. The recovery and confusion were far less than having had an ‘ordinary’ seizure when all I apparently did was say, according to the Carers who were with me at the time: Sometimes with open eyes, others with them closed, but always with jerks, shaking and a mumbling of incoherent short words. Joeonce wrote down what I was babbling about in short outbursts; Urghum, Worramum, ehereherehu and No, no. With different expressions for each so-called word?
But how can I do things like moving things, and mop a floor? Mind you, I made a mess of that and had to clean it again this time.

And what happened to my feeling of being so drained?
Why should I do it at this time of night, let alone during a seizure? How? Why? Thankfully, these don’t occur very often… Ah! Perhaps there is a connection to my feeling of being so tired? Nae!

I keep getting myself off track tonight. But the need of food arose. I looked in the fridge to see what was available for dining on. The photo above reveals two outdated food items that I had to discard. The pastie on the right was use-by 19th Aug. Whatever it was inside that had gone mouldy and showing through the pastry and bag was mysterious enough. But then, why did I buy them in the first place? My tiredness returned.

I decided, after seeing what was not available to eat, to opt for frozen chip shop chips, tomatoes, and two defrosted cheesy-topped no-butter buttered bread rolls, along with some cheap £1-a-packet ham slices, which were well within their use-by date, 8th September. Worryingly, the highest ingredient listed was water.
However, they were a success (Not the meat, but the tomatoes, bread and chips were lovely).

There’s a chance of a miracle having taken place here. I cannot remember seeing the moon while I was in bed. Sometimes I see the hue coming through the tatty, thin curtains. I’ve been known to scramble out of bed to take a shot of it. I’m sure I didn’t tonight… well, as sure of anything I can ever be sure of. But that’s not saying much, is it? This snap was so beautiful, I’d have thought I’d remember taking it.
It’s Sunday evening as I write this. I’m now over two blogs behind. I think. I’m waffling on, and still have Sundays to start, and 30 templates to make up.
I’ll do a quickie for Sunday. Just the top graphics, CorelDraw permitting.
An Ode, hopefully.
And a photo or two…
I should get it done by Christmasish. Haha!.

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MISSING HORIS!

🤎 CHEERY-BYE FOLKS 🤎

Inchie: Friday 29th August 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Random things that can yet, or did, make me happy…
From memory, diaries, and some even theoretically,
At 14, a Lady of forty took my cherry,
Which I loved, but why? It confused me,
Which life has done, ever since, diurnally,
Later, developing a natural negativity,
Cynicism, defeatism, and despondency,
This helped me cope with life’s adversity,
At birth, Mother said, ‘Throw it away’,
Life would have been a little shorter…
but have gone less problematically,
Am I losing the plot of the faux-poetry?
No, it’s just my affected memory…
In old age, my teeth are rotting away…
Diabetes Don, Anne Gyna, Cartalige Chloe,
Duodenal Donald, Toothache Tiffany,
Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Peggy,
Myoclonic-Seizures-Sid, Peripheral Neuropathy,
Inchy’s Fungal Lesion, & Lymphorrhea Leslie,
Méniere’s disease, Episodic-Ataxia-Ellie,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids, Eric’s Eczema,
Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, mentally,
Earache Eric, Whoopsiedangleploppery,
Herings aids, both needing a battery,
Ingrowing toenails; Unguis Incarnate Nelly,
Mechanic Ticker Trevor and Reflux Valve Rene,
Newly-diagnosed Hydrocephalus-Harry,
They don’t overbother me, individually,
For they are all a part of me, intrinsically…
Even when affecting me painfully or cripplingly,
Coping with a warped brain & disabled body,
Getting through each day makes me happy,
Another secret, to help you feel less crappy,
Concentrate on hexing Starmer (the Iffy),
His soundbites on isonomy prove his inanity,
He rules crappily, but has got inexpugnability,
Taking backhaners from the Oligarchy,
No one can deny his lies & criminality,
I pray for a political solution, philosophically,
We can do nothing legally curatively,
I’m only thinking this whimsically…
I’m hoping he dies painfully…
very slowly and in utter agony,
Tomorrow perhaps? Hopefully,
That’d make me overjoyedly happy!

TODAY’S COCK-UPS

I tell you now of my discontent,
Why is my life so abhorrent? 
Whoopsiedangleplops Accifauxpa torrent,
Unsolvable Problems & ailments,
The computer, now an inconvenience!
No help from anywhere,
Its memory is now bare,
Tonight, CorelDraw died,
My depression cannot be denied,
I managed to save some graphics & photos,
Got old ones, I’ll have to use those,
Struggling with this Odes prose,
Made an order by mistake on Amazon.
Tried to cancel it, reply waited on,
Already got my lowest ever bank balance,
Find a Solution? I haven’t had a chance!
Will it let me update this blog? I’m not yet sure,
All my problems, not one cure!
I feared being forced into an old folks’ home,
At this moment, I realise that I’d not be alone,
Financially, physically, and mentally sick!
In the morning, I woke up in a seizure,
And then came the morning Carer,
Of which there is little I can remember,
It may be the end of my blogging,
I don’t know yet if this blog will be saved,
But after all my work in creating…
If not, it’s going to be so gauling,
I’m hoping that CorelDraw will be loading,
Not confident, just hoping,
The wheelchair ordered is self-propelling,
The standard one, I got it four weeks ago,
But no Carer has taken out, though,
When I get paid for the self-propeller,
And get it inspected by a Carer,
I can get out and feel freer,
But what I do now fear,
By the time it’s checked & inspected,
I might be too old to use it, well dated!
Still no appointment made for the Audio Clinic,
No delivery of the Diabetic osenitic,
I’m feeling so depressed and sick!
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Up 05:55hrs. Urine was a 5 on the Richter scale. 

Views taken from the balcony
End car park.
Towards Mansfield Road
Towards the park
Left, front car park & flat balconies

Had a bit of a mini seizure that lasted seconds, I thought. That’s a guesstimate. After the seizure, a little out of it, I made a mug of Detox tea and tended to my ablutions. Then shelled some garden peas to nibble cold and add to the planned stew tonight.

To the intercom to let in Carer Ejaz. Who did a fair job for me this morning? Diabetic socks were put on.  
Medications were given.

I started to do the blog.
I noticed I’d not changed the date on the clock.
Got a mug of proper tea, and the peas to nibble. Seeing that I had still not changed the date on the clock. So, I did!

Started to update yesterday’s blog.
I got into it and felt the catheter bag drop; the urine pouch was full to the brim, and the weight of the bag tugged the tube in little Inchy. I believe I may just have used some naughty language.
Just look at the amount of urine that came out. The bag is a 200ml one, but the jug indicates it is 400ml. No wonder it felt down.

I got a call to say that an ambulance was on its way to see me. No idea why? 

Sister Jane rang me. It was hard work without the hearing aids. I’d been trying to book an appointment for 4 weeks with the Carers. But no joy. I moaned a little about things to her. And she moaned back about her problems. Hehehe! And told me off, of course.

The intercom chimed. The chap came in with an electric scooter. I thought at first it was a Red Cross man bribing it for me – what a clot! It was a Carer, Ahbul. I showed him the wheelchair on the balcony and moaned that no Carer had taken me out on it yet; in fact, it hadn’t been fully erected and checked for safety yet. The lad departed, and I’d been talking (I talk a lot nowadays, mainly to myself and my alter ego, Inchie) about the wheelchair. I went on the balcony and checked out the disabled machines.
The four-whelled walker.
The new wheelchair, unused to date. Fitted a cushion on it. Searched around with the aid of the impractical, worthless manual, which had such tiny printing that it was really of no value.
At least the cushion fitted. I found where the passenger brakes were and tried them. Crude tinny metal, but they worked.
Then had an in-depth, almost pointless perusal of the mwinenace/instruction manual. I think it might have been for the wrong model. As you can see in the photo I took, this is for a self-propelled model with large wheels.
This model has tiny wheels.
However, the thought of having a self-propelled one and the advantage of not needing an expensive Carer to push me means I perhaps could get to the Social Room in the other block of flats, Winwood Court, and have a chat with others. Maybe, perhaps, possibly. Or not. There’s bound ot be a difficulty in getting one on the NHS, but I felt one would benefit me.
So, I went to the Amazon site to investigate.
The prices ranged from £69 for a child. Up to £3,999 for a Sports Model. The ones that caught my eye were those with pad-cusions for the back of the legs, which was the first criterion I adopted. Many of them had a strap across the front of the frame. These pads claim to be better for people with diabetes. So, I went through all 44 pages of what I searched for: self-propelled wheelchairs with brakes at the front and back. (Leg pads in brackets)
Five at £184, one at £148. The £184 ones all looked the same model. The £148 did not have handbrakes for the pusher. This was the only difference that I could find. Then, I checked the comments about the £148. Not good. 2.5 rating overall. I was going to check the comments for the £184 one, but Carer Nizra arrived and I forgot all about checking. 

Then the mobile rang. The £35-a-bash toenail cutter was on its way up to me. 

When I got back on the computer, I found that I’d ordered the £148 wheelchair. Nobody told me… except Amazon, in an email. I went to Amazon to cancel the order. The message said, ‘We will try to cancel it, let you know, and advise you.

The gal got my nails cut, and we managed a little chat and a laugh.
Look at the time already!
A fantastic site, no, sight!

Off to the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence led the session, but not as dominantly this time.

When I got back in the front room, I was pretty ashamed of the mess in there.

I made up the meal for later on, one of my off-the-cuff stews, or whatever they should be called. Masses of garden peas, other vegetables, chopped some water chestnuts into it, and added Bovril. I had some bread left over that wasn’t too hard for dipping.

Turned off the computer and had only put on today’s cartoon. So far behind again.

CALAMIY, FEAR, MORE DEPRESSION DARIUS!
I couldn’t save the work I’d done in CorelDraw.
Not enough memory available!
I went to make a brew to help me think through my options available to rescue things.

Despite my morseness, I still took these snaps of the view from the kitchen window. Not even knowing if I can use them or not. Proof that I need help!
As if I didn’t know beforehand already!

The meal came out well.

I went to wash the pots, and yet again, possibly wasted my time taking this last snap.
Still, it’s worth it, a bit of nature.

Another day of Depression & Frustration,
Seizures, errors just never lessen,
This should teach me a lesson…
To get mental rest, do I need absolution?
Mistakes, lost words, or an anachronism…
Forgetfulness, confusion, an aphorism,
It’s months since my last cachinnation,
Life once livable is now a damnation,
Today I felt as if I was forsaken…
Of course, I could have been mistaken,
No help, hope, or satisfaction…
High Mood Horis was missing in action,
So many things, to curse or gurn in reaction,
I’m depressed, more than a fraction…
I find life & living, all a guesstimation!

#= # = # = # = # = # = # = # = #
I REALLY HOPE I’LL BE BACK!
#= # = # = # = # = # = # = # = #

Sorry, I’ve had so little time to get on the WP Reader & Comments. It’s been even busier than usual lately. And I’ve not started writing Saturday’s blog yet.

Birthday Boy Inchie: 28th August 2025

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I believe the Labour Party were blindsided,
Being out of power for so long, they became beclouded…
When Fibber Starmer was elected their leader,
They won, mainly because of the Tories’ failure,
Now the position of Prime Minister…
Has been bedarkened, cheapened and lessened,
By Starmer, the liar, the Tory, the Pensioner robber,
Each voter is becoming a revenge seeker,
Giving out sound bites about his plans from the ether,
He’s fibbed, turncoated, and been well back-handed,
In such a short time, the UK, Keir’s buggered,
He reckons he’s done no wrong as Prime Minister,
Reeves courted WASPI women, pretending to be a supporter,
After 14 ruinous years of austerity ruination… Keir, imposing more austerity and cutbacks, with the confidence of a madman,
Starmer’s dodgy donors bought him footy tickets & freebies,
Pretty dresses for his wife, Keir accepting free spectacles,
Lobbing cash at his cabinet of Labour-right ghouls,
Churn out legislation that’s favourable to his dodgy donors’,
It’s a quid pro quo, and he got caught red-handed,
No prosecution, his lying was not disrupted…
His bravado was not disrupted or interrupted,
Labour got in by default, as the Tories imploded,
Jeremy Corbyn now as a frothing Nazi shithead,
Doom-mongering, at the start of a five-year Labour mega-majority, was yet another whopping blunder,
He dented confidence; said things would get worser,
Was he a deceiver, hoodwinker? He was a Barrister!
A kind description would be a moral short-changer,
Or a deluder, deceiver, a fraud, cheater,
Letting right-wing Streeting run the NHS is a disaster,
Starmer’s seen both the Labour government’s, as his own personal approval ratings collapse through the floor, into the sewer,
He insists all he’s done is right, not wrong. What a plonker!
Keir is smug, complacent, and incapable of self-reflection,
Somehow, he avoids being assassinated, even prosecution?
So, why not lock away this illywacker?
In an asylum, to guarantee his own safekeeping?
There’s no Pensioners indoors for robbing…
Family farmers or parents for bankrupting,
It would, of course, be ideal for suiciding,
Taking that route, he’ll not be deciding…,
Give him a twice-daily cold shower,
In between, a daily testicle-tasering?
Hehehe! I bet that got you smiling?
A guillotine, hanging? But, maybe poisoning…
But killing anyone, I’m not recommending…
I’m just living in hope, suppositioning,
Finally, my last words on Keir in this Odeing…
I find him dishonest, smug, Tory-like & disconcerting…
Thinking of him while I’m Odeing is excruciating!
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04:00hrs: I stirred from my broken piecemeal slumber. The second I moved, Cartilage Chloe had my number, first pain, then it went numb, repeating this action until 4 hours later, when I finally got my pain killers, Codeine from Carer Ejaz. That saw off Catrtilage Chloe’s pain problem. Shame it didn’t stop her from threatening throughout the day and then collapsing. She had wobbled a few times, but I stayed on my feet despite her birthday ruining efforts. 

Once I dismounted from the bed, I started a few hours of unexpected industriousness. I whipped off the nocturnal catheter bag, leaving it on the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966 moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, dirty, blood-stains-covered, much dilapidated, crumb-containing from early evening nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, Harold Haemorrhoid annoying, not working recliner. For The Carer to colour-grade for me. 
There was no stopping me then… I was up for it, with occasions, for no reason made the odd, but short, early morning visit!
I put the kettle on to make my morning mug of Detox tea, and wobbled off to the wet room, nearly falling over my own walking stick as I entered the room. Without the usual self-lambasting and calling myself names. I believe I did not swear either. Yes! The evacuated product was a deep red, slushy substance. I think it may have been through me eating some vegetable pickle and a lot of beetroot yesterday.

I think I did well with the shaving and the scrubbing up this morning. Fair enough, there were three shaving cuts, but they were no bother. The Brut aftershave soon stemmed the bleeding. Obviously, the usual gums and teeth bled, but this new toothpaste does seem to be less painful to use overall. Olive oiled the earholes, eyedrops put in the eyes… well, some of it, about 50% of it ran down my cheek and into my mouth, to join the blood and Duraphat in there. Haha!
The lower regions’ medicalisationings was, as usual, painful. The removal of the barrier cream from last night, from my man breasts and hanging belly blob, was of little or no bother. However, I have now been instructed to use baby wipes to clean the area around the previous medications, as well as the before applying the barrier cream, and/or when trying to apply the hydrochloride cream to Little Inchies’ fungal lesion. 
So, you can see why I have to get up so early every day, with all the tasks that need to be done daily.
Worra-Life!

All done, struggled a tad with getting the PPs (protection pants) on. Dressing gown on, and I went back to the front room. Taking this shot from the balcony of the end car park. The dog walker’s two dogs couldn’t resist having a pee on the wheels of the little red car parked on the chevrons. (Police dogs? Haha!)

I then sorted the bags into a large one and drank the Detox tea, sipping it as instructed.
Then I was summoned back to the Porcelain Throne again. Just the same, watery and deep red. When it started to flow, I could hear it hitting the water below, even without my hearing aids. It honestly flowed for at least two minutes before turning into a dribble, followed by a slow, megafart. I laughed out loud!

I washed my hands and went to the kitchenette to get the kettle on for the first ‘proper’ brew of Typhoo Extra Strong tea, and nice it was, too.
 Then I took these two shots, through the glass, one to the left and the other to the right. Rain!

Carer Nimra did the next call. Then, at long last, I got started on catching up on the blog. Hahaha! And I have to say that never happened!

FED-UP? ME? YES!
CorelDraw, Memory problems, and I’ve just found out that the instruction/maintenance booklet for the wheelchair is for another model with self-propelling large wheels. 
FED-UP? ME? YES!

It’s already 15:00 hrs on Friday. I’ll have to skip the rest of the blog; I’ll add the photos if the computer allows me. Here goes…

Late night
The urban night

I think this may be the end.

 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
TTFNski, Each
I HOPE

Inchie Today: Wednesday 27th August 2025

/ Inchie / 20 Comments

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I read this with a certain ambivalence,
For my brain’s gained degree of avirulence,
My brain shows truculence in defiance…
My brain returns only ululants,
I believe he’s after aggrandisements,
Praise, thanks; hence his truculence?
But he can’t be blamed for being impercipient,
For his world is baron of jouissance,
Yet, he copes with my verbal-absonance!
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Straight into it, I’m so far behind with this blog: It is Thursday morning now, 08:054hrs, only just kicking off from here. Forgive any cock-ups chronologically or grammatically. I was so busy again. I may miss bits off to try and get caught up. Because Thursday (today) I’ve a nurse calling. Social Worker, Window cleaner, four Carer Visits, four deliveries, Vyne with catheter equipment, HRG with medicational aids, and I anticipate that hundreds of callers will wish me a Happy Birthday. Nurse Hristina has sent me a birthday card! It’s so precious… I hope to beat last year’s grand total of three cards. Hahaha! I didn’t. Which makes this one even more beloved.
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Up at 05:50hrs. Urine a 5.
Three trips to the Porcelain Throne in the first hour. All Trotsky Terence affairs. I blame my eating that vegetable pickle, you know. Chanfed the calendar and made a brew of Extra Strong Typhoo tea.

Ablutions sorted, waste bins sorted, and I moved the Catheter Contraption onto the right leg. Painful! New top strap needed.

Took a snap from the kitchenette window of the doom-looking sky. I found the cloud variations appealing. Great!

The JS food order arrived…
The deliveryman took the bags through to the kitchen for me. That was kind of him. Thanks!

Seeks that I must have ordered a Chinese chicken and red rice ready microwave meal. Or did I?
I’m not even keen on it?

I also must have ordered Vibe batter-coated potato slices. Fresh pod peas and shelled peas. Chessy-topped bread rolls, tomatoes, and beer-battered, thrice-fried chips?

Finally got onto the computer. Not that I got much done, so busy, as you will read below.

Carer Ejaz arrived. Body checks, barrier creaming, Phor[ain gelled Cartilage Chloe, & medications were given. We searched and eventually found a Catheter-Top band. Ejaz ordered some more for me. 

Matron Jackie arrived. Check up my rear-end. The goulies area was the only concern. The fungal lesion looked dodgy. She said  The ankles and legs. Suggested I ask the Carers to clean the lower regions. This didn’t go down well. The female carers would probably make me laugh too much!

11:00hrs: I made a belated mug of Detox tea. Steep in boiling water for 30 minutes. Two hours later…
I remembered it.
Balcony shot taken through the glass of the end car park. No red car on the chevrons.

Then a community nurse called on me. Many things were discussed, but I can’t recall what. No! I was puzzled, cause I’d not had a seizure as I knew of.

Carer Ejaz arrived for the longer visit. He took down the laundry to put it in the machine first.

Bit of fun here. When the sun came out, I took this shot from the computer chair. Later, when I got it from the SD card, I rotated it the wrong way, and this was photo A. The fun to me was that I didn’t realise until I came to put it in. Looking at them, both could have the one. Hehe!

Ejaz returned, and we discussed the problem that I had been trying to resolve for four weeks at the Audio Centre, but nothing had changed or happened. After he called the Carer’s office, he said they may ring for us, and he will let them know when it is.
We’ll see what happens on this one.

Ejaz went down to move the clothes into the dryer. He had to wait for one to be free. While he was out, I used CorelDraw to create the top graphics.

A Social Lady called on the Landline. I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, and I explained the problem with the hearing aids getting repaired.

Ejaz came back up and mopped the kitchen for me.

I got back to CorelDraw…
Oh, dearie me. More problems to make me even further behind than ever!
I waited for the control device to complete its task, whether checking or changing.

Ejaz checked the dates on the fresh foods. Two out-of-date. Then he went down to collect the washing from the dryer.

I was already shattered physically, and now mentally. The mental problems come when difficulties are recognised as not solvable with the amount of help I’m getting. Then the mind torments itself with thoughts of insurmountable worries.
Since Carer Joe left, no one has taken any action with the correspondence; letters are scattered all over the place. They open the odd one now and then, but the two big file boxes under the Carer’s table have not been added to since Joe left the job

The DVT Warfarin Lobotomy nurse arrived. She handed me a birthday card from Nurse Hristina, which was for the next day. 🤎 (Today). Lovely lady. Then took two samples of blood. Bless her! 🤎

Ten minutes later…

Carer Nimra gave me the evening medications, and then came right back up again. I managed to get to the waste bin in time.

I was so weary again, I made a meal with a lot of beetroots. I thought I’d taken a photo of it, but there were photos of it on the internal or SD card.

🤎TTFNski🤎