Ageing humour

Inchy Today: Tuesday 27th May 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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MR PHOOEY
One of Sister Jane & hubby Pete’s cats.
My personal favourite. The lad had all sorts of problems. I believe he would have been around 13 years old in this photo, taken at their mansion.
The poor mite went deaf and almost blind a couple of years later. Then, he had kidney problems and many others, and he became fragile. Finding this photo made me think of Tim Price and Doug, WordPress cat owners who have gone through the anguish of losing their loves. Mr Phooey was an amazingly calm, & friendly cat. When one picked him up. I could hear and feel his purrs when I got a chance, and it was an honour to be able to gently fuss him, along with Jane, as in this photo above. 
Thank heavens for memories! 
Soft? Me? Yes, I loved him!
Bless Him!
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Be suspicious of those who bootlick,
Making sure it’s your boots is the trick,
Avoid Inchy’s odes; they’re logorrhoeic,
Men avoid women who are logorrhoeic,
And Starmer, the anthropophobic,
And known to be an anthropophagic,
He’s also deceptive, false, demagogic…
I find time for this sort of epodic,
Guillotines, designed to be ergonomic,
I think this Ode is funkadelic?
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You’ll probably guess better what happened than I can remember occurred.
Scribble only, and few photos. Recorded well for the first few hours, then the multiple seizures confounded me; I was in and out from then on.
04:50hrs: Stripped, grabbed the necessary items, and headed to the wet room to perform the ablutions and medicationalisations.
Soaked my feet and stood in a bowl with disinfectant while I cut my face… I mean, shaved. Hehe!
Getting my feet out of the bowl, I spilt some water, slipped on it and cracked my head against the sink. I seem to be mastering this little exercise more regularly these days. Tsk!

06:25hrs: I got on the computer. 07:15hrs: Carer Ejaz arrived. He issued the medications. Then, I added mesh netting to the catheter contraption and got the diabetic socks fitted on my now dangly legs and feet.

On the computer, I came across an old photo of Sister Jane, Mr Phooey, and me. (above) I am as soft as grease, I know. But I thought of all my WordPress heroes who have cats and gone through the anguish of losing them. I am the same with my Cyril and Lady, and of course, Jane’s Mr Phooey! 💛

The computer needed a reset in the hope that this would correct its habit of sticking mousse.
So, I got the Hoover out and did a bit of cleaning up. The emphasis is on ’A bit of cleaning up!’ Haha! 

The food delivery from J Sainsbury’s arrived. I started to put away the foodstuff… I must have taken this photo.


A mega-seizure followed by a slowly dwindling series of mini-seizures.
How two Carer visits came and went with only glimpses of any memory of them amazes me.
Not as much as how I did work on CorelDraw during the long one. And what bit I did and no cock-ups in them… that I could find anyway. No taps were left on. No food doors were left open.
How? That’s what I’d like to know!
No signs of aches or new pains to indicate any tumbles being taken, either.
I meant to mention this to Carer Joe when he came, but I don’t think I did. I hope to remember to tell the Doctor when she calls on the Wednesday after next. There are so many little things, extra, different things I’d like to recall and relate to the Doctor. But they drift off into the ether. Carer Joe should be here when she comes, so I think it’s important to keep him updated. As he might jog my memory or tell the Doctor himself. Is it likely to be more reliable than I can be? It was so good of him to move things about on his busy schedule, to fit me in to be here when the Doctor arrives. Thank’s Joe!

Looking at this photo, I’d guess what I’d had for nosh tonight or whenever. Possibly a boiled potato cut into cubes? Orange, red and yellow tomatoes. Pickled water chestnuts. Pickled mushrooms. Beetroots, red onion, and Marmite cheese. Cheesy topped bread rolls. The dessert might be a jelly & custard pot? What is on top of the potatoes and what was in the bread rolls will have to remain one 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.
How the heck can I not recall this meal? It looks delightful to me in this photo?
Ah, yes. As I’m still two days behind with the blogs, confusion is to be expected. Especially when I get distracted from my intended actions.
These are perfect examples of this; while draining the catheter pouch (three times in three days), I got distracted and either did not turn the valve off or only partly, in my rush to answer the phone, the intercom and the door chime. Resulting in more agitation when I realised that each time I’d got urine on my leg, socks and part filled the slipper. I ran out of slippers when I did it today! They are all in the wash with the pouch netting and socks. Then, a master risk! I had to get water from the kitchen sink into a bowl, disinfect it, and bring it to the main room to soak the feet. Having to dry them with paper towels using the picker-upperer. Bending down to get to the feet is a no-go. Just too painful on the knees and back and causes me to have dizziness. Which is best avoided. I think I’ve had two tumbles in two days caused by bending down. Hitting my forehead on the wet room sink each time, but I stayed upright at least; that is a blessing. Otherwise, the long crawl on all fours to get to the recliner to haul my body back up onto the feet is such a painful struggle. Arthur Itis, Little Inchie, the catheter tube pulling and causing bleeding… I’m moaning again, aren’t I? Shut up!

The short Mini Seizures took over.
Coming out of these, the confusion seemed well out of proportion. More than when I escaped the mammoth one?

I may have got things out of sync or repeated. Sorry.

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All The Bestest!
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Inchy: Medically-Miserablest-Monday 26th May 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Shouldn’t you ask for permission?
Beg for guidance and facilitation,
Don’t do it if you are a drunken…
Or you are easily dumbstrucken,
Guillotine, hang or electrification?
If you have a choice, which option?
A final world war or a global eruption?
Covid, starve, or in an explosion?
Physical and mental erosion?.
No more floccinaucinihilipilification,
Write your last poem, or feuilleton?
Your PM is a dishonest futilitarian!
He causes fear, death & a fustilarian.
Starmer is like a modern Gwydion…
Ever-searching for freebies, a guerdon.
Not a practical joker, more a gluon,
He’s no guilt, disowns, refuses humiliation,
Undercover Tory? We need confirmation!
Investigation, examination, interrogation,
I’d love to see him commit self-jugulation!
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A few evil spells today.
But in the afternoon, Anne Gyna eased off. Mind you, she returned when I got into bed. Tsk!
Still, you can’t win them all!

For about 70% of the day. I kept praying he’d sod off, but, needless to say, it didn’t work. I can’t understand why, though. The situation overall was significantly better than it had been in the last few days. There was nothing to indicate why Duncan stayed with me for so long, and deeply too. Baffled!
Late on in the evening freed me for an hour or two. Enough for me to cheer a little before finding blessed sleep. As it was, the interruption occurred when Ann Gyna returned, the coughing started, or the neurotransmitters shook me with such violence. But each time, I soon drifted of into the world of sweet Morpheus again. In fact, despite the most jump-awakes ever in a night, I think I got 6 hours sleep in. I just wish it had been of a bit better quality. Again, you can’t win them all.
Notes were sparse. I think there were some seizures over the day. Another oddity is that some days, I put a tick on the notepad when I know I’ve had one. The next day, when it comes to counting them, I either can’t believe the ticks on the pad were so numerous, or I am amazed to see so many.

Another memory-testing blank-filled day. Luckily, I took a few photos; some prompted me, and some confused me. Not much contentwise. Although some flooded back to me.

Carer Ejaz was as surprised as I was at the colour of the nocturnal urine.

Rubbish bags are made ready to go.

Tidied up the vital for the bladder catheter stock of spring water.

 I’m not sure, but I think this arrived today. I’d made a mess of naming the photo files, so you may have seen these before—or not.
Ah, Worcester-flavoured crisps!

Got on the computer.
My brain didn’t work at all.

?

Early meal.

Took a tumble while doing the ablutions.
I head-butted the sink again.
I’m getting good at this lately!

Carer Ejaz was surprised again.
Hahaha!
He took off the diabetic day socks.
And took these photos of me in 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.
Then, the state of the legs while he put some
Phorpain gel on the lesions and barrier cream.
Do my legs look mishappen to you? Not complaining, though. They were far less aglow tonight.

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Doctor’s Next Thursday TTFNski
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I hope I can remember where it is?

Inchy Today: Satur’Rotten’day 24th May 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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This is a sort of disclaimer.
Defending my brain’s abductor,
My cerebrum needs a new alternator,
Today, full of Whoopsiedangleploppery…
Has angered & confused me continually,
Hot tap left running twice – Good Glory!
Burnt my dinner, coughing & throaty,
Everything went more confusingly,
As I write this, it’s 16:00hrs, Sunday,
07:15, I mean on Saturday…
Has angered & confused me continually,
Hot tap left running twice – Thoughts gory!
Struggled with the Peripheral Neuropathy,
Arthritis and cartilage, bad in each knee,
Glaucoma was making things hard to see,
I cut my finger on the zester,
Porcelain Throne visits, never messier!
What people said would not register,
My catheter tap was left open, pathetically…
Slippers, socks, feet, carpet wet, you see?
Leg ulcers turned deep zaffre…
Burnt my dinner, coughing & throaty,
Everything went more confusingly,
No one had time for a chat or natter…
What bit of hope I had began to wither,
I didn’t know if I was here, there or whether…
It was pouring with rain, a change in the weather,
Dark Dank Depression Duncan dawned,
No visits from High Horis, I felt scorned,
I got confused with the dates on the calendar,
The computer has a blue screen, whatsoever,
Each caller had a different Carer,
Lost without Carer Joe, he’s on holiday,
Fought against dates, mathematically,
My thoughts sadly went argumentatively,
And I was only talking to myself, sadly,
Then, I think you may agree…
I suffered catastrophe after catastrophe,
I washed the pots and put them away,
A Carer from the ICC,
Which naturally distracted me,
She left, I discovered, agonistically,
I’d left the tap running again. Glory be!
No ablutioning today as well, I can see!
Cleaning my togs first, carefully…
Rarely for this year, it was still rainy,
Then I tackled a job most risky…
The bowl of disinfected hot water…
To the main room, I had to porter,
No Accifauxpas, with that water,
Stuck my feet in the bowl, with anti-fungal,
But I forgot to fetch the towel…
So I dried off with some kitchen towel,
Went to empty the bowl in the in the WC,
Dropping it as I poured it into the toilet bowl,
I stubbed my toe, boy, did I howl!
I wanted to throw in the towel…
Instead, I made a brew…but I couldn’t find it. Nor my mobile!
Give up, swear, curse and growl,
Depression Duncan was invincible,
High Horis was absent or invisible…
Most of this is immaterial,
Bad-luck? I’ve had jugful…
I sank into a mental jungle,
My mind was in a twisted muddle,
Too many problems to juggle,
Life seems no longer manageable,
Everyday, more mishaps & trouble,
My brain & soul are no longer mutual,
My joints & bones are no longer malleable,
Problems not hideable or mothballable,
Cognitive Impairment, sanity not recuperable,
I’ve no slippers left because I’ve pee’d in them all,
Proving that I’m ever more adorkable,
I still feel that life nowadays is not workable…
I also seem to be growing more sulkable,
My thoughts & ideas are now circumstantial,
I sense I’m becoming somewhat augural,
In High Horis’s absence, I’m apoplectical,
I was once perceptible, & palopable,
Will Horis ever return? I’m still hopeful,
Gawd, that entity made me so cheerful,
Does this read all agathokakological?
With problems neurological & physical,
Seemingly ignored by anyone medical,
What chance? Is logic salveable?
Unobtainable, unreasonable, or unworkable?
Sorry, this may sound morbid, apocryphal,
It’s just that I’ve had a belly full,
Dementia, Incogniscence… are they…
mendable, rectifiable or even explainable?
I made a meal that looked rather eatable,
Unfortunately, in the morning, at half-past two,
I’d only been in bed for a minute, too!
Off again to the Porcelain Throne, I flew,
I had another ,
The evacuation started before it was due!
Much foul language was used, I can tell you,
It was unstoppable, smelly and impromptu,
More time lost, much cleaning up to do,
Arithmetic, I nowadays misconstrue,
But, did I enjoy my meat & potato stew!.

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Just had a short visit from!
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Today felt like anything go-wrongable went wrongable. Repeatedly.
My mind took a holiday.

Scribbled notes on the pad and a few photos triggered some memories.

04:20hrs: Removed the nocturnal catheter bag.
I Put the kettle on. Then, I soaked the socks in disinfectant from the urine mishap—how many times has that happened this week? I made up three waste bags. I put them near the front door, where they remained for two days with the following added ones. Could I remember to ask the caregivers to take them to the shute? No!
I didn’t get around to doing this blog until Tuesday.
By then, I’d overwritten the pictures taken as I got them all mixed up with each other. I must have lost at least a dozen photos! Self-hatred, stupidity, and a smidge of anger with myself.

Yet again, Unbelievable!
I was emptying the day bag, and the intercom rang; it was the Carer. As it seems habitual nowadays, I did not fully close the bleed valve on the catheter pouch.
More foul, self-cursing emanated.
Another high-risk activity is carrying a bowl of disinfected water to remove the pong of urine on my feet. Mind you, I’ve done it three times (not closing the valve and carrying water from the kitchen to the front room and back). No, I’ve done it four times this week. I ran the hot water tap cold six times. And I swore (Estimated) 12,456 times this week thus far. Only one more day left to increase these figures. (Which I can you now, I did!)

All my slippers are already in the laundry bag.
And with the Carer not putting on the diabetic socks, I walked the stink all over the rooms. I was not up to mopping, but I sprayed all the carpeting with a fabric freshener and the rooms with air spray. I still can’t find the small blue towel. But give me time. I’ve only been looking for it for two weeks. Untidy is the kindest word to describe the flat.

I think this photo might be from another previous day. Cause I can’t recall any prescription medications being delivered. Mind you, later on, when I got a phone call, the lady asked me why I had not attended the meeting with the neurologist at The Ropewalk. I felt silly asking where the Ropewalk was.
After cringingly apologising and thanking her for setting up a new emergency date for the examination (August 28th), I checked my calendar. There was nothing on there. .

Not sure about this photo either.

Or when this one was taken.
What day was it taken?

I went to get the much-needed ablutions done, but I needed to use the porcelain Throne first.

Morrison order. The photos have been overwritten—all of them! No, hang on. I’ll check to see if I put them in the wrong folder. I’d be daft enough to have…
Well, after searching, I could not find them in any file. I went on CorelDraw to download Tuesday’s files and realised I’d left the photos on the CorelDraw page. So, I had to change all the names and save them again to use here. I sense big cock-ups in the offing!
I found some snaps.
I think these were the right ones.
But…
They are, I’m nearly certain.
Well…

I had better stop here if I’m getting deeper into a quagmire of confusion with three days of blog photos and notes and the wrong days of events shared between the three. I think duplicity is a possibility for these three blogs. Sorry if this is so.

Many photos in the preview are different from those in the editor. I’m sorry again; I can’t find out why. If this continues, I’ll have to give up. Anger-Making!

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Cheers!
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Inchy Today: Friday 23rd May 2025

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

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I may have left these evening shots of yesterday’s blog. I’m sure I didn’t put on all four!

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The first 3 taken to the left. The 4th to the right.
I found at least eight images in these.

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17:00hrs before I got around to stating this bloke.

A proper quicky.

05:00hrs up, nocturnal pouch off.

Mopped kitchen floor.

Ablutions & Medicationing where I could reach.

3 cuts shaving

I all but lost my balance getting the fresh PPs on.

Carer Ejaz arrived. We decided not to change the catheter bag, as we did last week on Sunday; it’s best to wait until then. So I can try to remember Fridays. I think I got that wrong. Ejaz got the medications issued and then put the diabetic sock on my legs.
He did a body check for new injuries or bruises and embarrassingly found some bruises on my… erm, er…
Well, my left buttock. He took a snap of them.

Odd looking?
Then he took a snap of the ankles
and leg ulcers. They appear to be
less severe this morning. Each ulcer
seems to have adopted a different
colour? The right one is almost
painless. Not the left one, though.
But they change daily.
Not like Starmer at all.
He is a permanent backhander
taker, fibber, greedy bully-boy,
more Conservative than the Tories.
the Labour leader, faux-pas,
imitation Prime Minister, dishonest,
but makes a grand dictator!
I got carried away there again. Sorry!

One Massive Seizure followed as I returned to semi-reality with a Mini-Seizure that returned me to La-La land.

NOSHTIME
Two cheesy-topped bread rolls filled with Marmite cheese, mature cheese spread, red onions and NZ butter. On the tray: pickled mushrooms and beetroot & new season tomatoes.Excellent Taste!

DANGER: WARNING REMINDERGRIM REAPERS, FARMERS, MOTHERS, 
PENSIONERS (If not yet killed by the cold),
AWAIT HOPEFULLY FOR HIS ASSASSINATION
The PSAA, Pensioners Still-Alive Association, 
membership is dwindling thanks to Starmer
stopping the fuel assistance will be holding a
mass prayer meeting at the Dog & Snuff pub in
Nottingham on June 4th. Any assassin fancying
taking on a new target is invited to attend.
Spencer Perceval (1762-1812): Served as Prime 
Minister from 1809 until his assassination.
Keir’s assassin will guarantee you fame & 
fortune. You’ll not be hung for doing it.
Starmer being as popular as he is, the
sentence might be up to five years.
If successful, the assassin will get 5% from
each of our members’ pensions in payment when 
released. And make us so grateful! Thanking you.
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It is now 17:35hrs tomorrow (Saturday).
I have yet to finalise this blog and get it sent off.
Let alone start on Saturdays. That’s going to be a right mess of a blog, too.
Saturday was… well, horrendous.
I thought today was bad enough. Two Tumbles. Accifauxpas. Hot water tap left on to run cold (Twice!). The catheter valve leaked all over my socks, slippers, and the carpet.
The third time this week! I’ve run out of slippers!
I must have had dozens of mini-seizures.
LIKE BEVER BEFORE
I cut my finger opening and a can of soup.
Flooded the kitchen.
I’m scribbling this to forewarn you in case it may sound gruesome when I finish (or even start) today’s blog—which it was! The main reason is that I made only a few notes on the reminder pad, so I may forget bits of the daymare. I can refer back to this blog if tomorrow I remember I wrote this.
I’m hoping that appears real soon. I’ve noticed he’s been reluctant to visit. Saturday was my third day without one of these heavenly mind-easing visits. He’s never been scarcer. Going from one extreme to the other gave me a sort of pleasure for however short a period. It was an out-of-this-world freedom from worry, a blessed take-it-as-is attitude. They were a paradisal, blissful and almost celestial. I didn’t like them at first because they felt so unreal, knowing the DDDDD would return. I did not appreciate at the time how my doubt would turn to love. Now, it seems like a lost love.
I’m sorry, Shakespeare! Please be aware that tomorrow’s (today’s) Saturday blog may not be in sync or readable, methinks. I’m sorry if so. 
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Have a Great Day!
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Inchy Today: Thursday 22nd May 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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Yet another busy, busy day!
Today did it for me. I may miss some events, as there were many, some simultaneously. Community Nurse, Window cleaner, ICC Carer Company representatives, a welcome call from ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress, Warden and Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana. DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis) nurse. Then British Gas sent a chap to get me to sign up for a replacement electricity meter. I wouldn’t. After asking if they were sneaking in Smart-Meters on me, he said, “I don’t know!” It sounded to me like he’s been told not to tell us old farts about the replacement being a much-feared and most unwanted Smart-Meter! With the fortune they spend on advertising them on TV, customers still resist them three years after hearing about the problems that some poor devils are having and getting bills for thousands of pounds!
Still, I’d better press on, or I’ll never get it done by going off-track and waffling. After four glorious hours of sleep… (Yes, 01:00 > 05:00hrs!).
Sorted the catheter bags out.
I washed last night’s pots and mopped the kitchen floor. Then I turned on the kettle, responded to the churning innards, and went to the Porcelain Throne.
Trotsky Terence is back in charge. Cube-shaped soft turfs that were more green than Kharki this time. There was no pain and no blood. Which was good enough for me. I pondered whether I should shower and do the ablutions now or if a Carer would arrive while I was in there; I decided not to and went to make a brew of tea. !
I’d left the hot tap running, and all that time cleaning up after the soft cubes, the water was cold!

I thought it was a Carer who rang the intercom. But it was a chap from the chemist delivering the top-up prescription medications for me.

Carer Ejaz arrived. Issued the medications and put my socks on for me while I told him of the Blood machine thingy. He could see to read the instructions. I wish I could. Hehe! It seems that I’d done it correctly.

Made up some new templates for WordPress.

Window Cleaner. Costly!

Carer Mirza, nice lad.

Community Nurse checked my body for bruises.
Asked some questions. What about? Erm…

Physio Miguel arrived and stayed a good time with me. It was a helpful visit, with a Q&A and a full body check. Miguel checked my blood oxygen machine, and everything was in order. He’ll order me two none-pressure cushions, one for the 1968 tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, eyesore-horrendously grungy, disease-fermenting second-hand, beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, catheter tube yanking, recliner, the other for the computer chair. Bless him.
He’ll also arrange a physio to come and see what exercises I can do. (Argh! Hehehe!)

Carer Nagan did the next call.

Then, two staff from ICC Care arrived with a new swipe tab for the carers to use.

Blood pressure was high.

The overcharging and bullying BT, trying to get me to have a smart meter installed, sent a pleasant agent.
Leaving leaflets that are printed far too small for me to read. I asked if it was a smart meter they were trying to force on me. He said he didn’t know. Tommyrot! He just didn’t want to have to tell the truth that it would be a smart meter installed! Gnash!

I did an order with JS for next Tuesday. (I think).

Misra did the last call… no he didn’t… or did he?
I think it was Carer Rosma. Sorry.

Beautiful sunset caught just in time.

NOSHTIME!
Good enuf fer me!

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WORRA DAY!
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Inchy Today: Wednesday 21st May 2025

/ Inchie / 5 Comments

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I’m aware that my rhymes, each & all,
Make me a Poetaster, if not a McGonagall,
My brain works, But I struggle to recall,
Events a minute ago, not recoverable,
But not things archaic, retrogressional,
1950, my chips were stolen by a seagull!
1953, getting thrown into Nottingham Canal,
The longer the memory, the more salvageable,
My humour can be dry and satirical…
Not skilful, clever, spiteful or sinful,
Aiming to make them laughable,
Lately, I’ve been naughtily overcritical,
Aimed at a man without principle…
You may agree that he’s objectionable,
Backhander-taking, greedy Starmer…
Who lied to get to be our Prime Minister,
His actions have been nothing but sinister,
His ministers say nothing, each a yeasayer,
Each one is a goffer, a doormat, a kowtower,
Even Labour voters begin to wither…
But why should I bother?
Humankind is doomed, whensoever, whatsoever,
I’ve been a Starmer-hating vilifier,
Hating him became obsessional,
Keir does his best, but he’s not professional,
Refuses to go to the confessional,
His promises, pledges, reversible,
Too clever to be pigeonholeable,
No accusations, prosecutions, I feel…
Existence will turn omnicorporeal,
A Labour government that’s oligarchal,
Common sense, compassion, gone occidental,
My Keir-bashing odes were not nonsensical
But my hopes for him are untenable…
And I thought he was so guillotineable!.
But, no, it was me being gullible!
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I anticipated today might be busy and Carer Joe would not be calling; he’s on holiday. But I did get help from Carer Ejaz, who made all the calls today.
The morning, spent struggling with the computer playing up, a few seizures, with Anne Gyna visiting on and off, was a good start because the depression didn’t get a look-in. Come midday, it got a bit busier. So much so that notes were not taken. I got confused with so much going on, but I seemed to take it all relatively unbothered. I accepted the pandemonium because I could do nothing to slow down or cope with them. This is true; It is now 23:15hrs. And I’ve only just ten minutes ago, made a start on this blog. I did get yesterday’s updated, and posted earlier in the day, though. Chalk and cheese.
At least we—Carer Ejaz and me—got some photos taken. I think I’ve got them in order… or close to. A late problem with CorelDraw cost me an extra hour, and the Ode writing was not as easy as usual. Concentration tiredness time came as using the dual late afternoon. The new Blood count & oxygen machine was used. I think I was using it right, but I may not have been. It kept flashing low on every occasion that I used it this week. A shame that the DVT Warfarin INR Nurse Hristina did not call. She could have guided me.

I’ll try to recall the unwritten things on the pad. Early morning is well documented, so I can bore you first. Hahaha!

Morning view from the kitchen.

Got the laundry bag filled and ready for Ejaz.

First visit to the wet room.

Made up the waste bags to go to the chute.
I burnt an oven tray last night and tried to salvage it, but it was impossible. I’ll have to stop burning my food. Twice yesterday! Tsk!

Had a brew of Co-op 99 tea and enjoyed it. Took the mug to wash… Found I’d left the hot water tap running and the freezer door open, and water (melting food) had spilt out onto the floor…

2nd visit. Messy again!

Salvation arrived in the form of Carer Ejaz. His first task was cleaning the kitchen floor for me. Bless him.
Then he took the laundry bag and put it into the washer for me.

While he was down there, I could not go in the kitchen until the floor dried, so instead of fetching an ice cream cone—it would probably have been too soft anyway—I raided my pot of cashew and pistachio nuts. A bad decision, that! 
I broke yet another tooth.

When Ejaz got back up and started hoovering, I showed him the half-tooth. He took a photo of my short-on-teeth mush for me.
Hehehe!

Then, two people from the Care Company arrived. They left a swipe fob and got me to sign an agreement to fit it. I think monitoring to ensure the carers don’t stay too long is the angle. They have to swipe in and out—a Carer tracker of sorts.

Ejaz went down to put the laundry in the dryer. We still have only one. Someone told Ejaz it should be repaired within three weeks.
The lad then had a go at the oven for me.

I took my meal of the day from the not-freezing freezer. I’ll have it soon; I’m feeling peckish.

On Ejaz’s next call, he took off my diabetic socks for me and rubbed some barrier cream on the ankles and legs. They looked better than yesterday, but the new growths climbing up the right leg were more painful when he took the sock off—tender, I think the word is—more than sore.

I worked on the Ode for a long time. The seizures had eased of a lot but   had returned. She’s still with me five hours later as I type this. But I’ll not complain; she’s been a lot worse; I can cope with moving stabs, which were less sharp than they usually are. But they stayed longer.

When Ejaz arrived, I was making the microwave meal and a pot of instant potatoes with added Leicester cheese. Time-wise, I’d lost the plot. 
I got it served up so Ejaz could put the nocturnal pouch on, as I’ll not be moving anywhere now. Just grafting away on this blog. (20:15hrs)
I’ll be trying these again from Iceland.
Tasty! On a Special offer at two for £4, too!
I sat with a drawer open, put the tray in it, and ate it while watching Heartbeat on the TV.
Which didn’t work out well cause I was also still working again on the blog’s Ode!

ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress, Primo Ballerina, & Warden Deana popped in as passing to see how things are going. Naturally, she hadn’t time for me to explain how things were going. Hehe!

The weariness and tiredness hit me more late than usual, but I still had much to do. I pressed on because I wanted to see the WP Reader and view and answer any WordPress comments.

Well, it’s early morning now.
Sleep sounds good to me. Hehehe!

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Cheerio, Mon Amis!
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Inchy Today: Tuesday 20th May 2025

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>
Humankind leaves a lot of residue,
I’m not referring to their phoo,
Warmongers, murderers we can’t subdue,
The end of the world is well, overdo,
Remembering Twiggy, in knickers, see-through?
My mind and body can often go skew,
As can life, but what can we do?
Whatever happened to the segue?
Honest politicians? Gone, but whereunto?

Why the shortage of the drumbledrane?
Why do they free killers again and again,
Why does the NHS not use enflurane?
I waffle on, am I, or not inurbane?
Tablets issued for physical pain…
Codeine, Morphine and lidocaine,
Neuropathy and mental problems remain…
Making one live in the transmundane,
If it’s not a new pustule, boil, or blain…

No doubt about it, I’m an apologist,
Can’t remember, so I assumedly,
Did I say or do it? Memory, no access,
I stumble verbally, so awkwardly,
The seizures know no boundaries,
No wonder I act bizarrerie,
Still have glaucoma and blepharitis,
With whom do I argue and have a barney?
Mostly twixt my own brain and me!
I’m not the cleverest or blessedest,
Christened as a Primitive Methodist,
I have to go; I sense an incoming banshee!
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In and out again today.
No notes to use. I wrote the new Carer’s name and the Porcelain Throne performance and took photos of the food delivery.
Gawd, I live an exciting life.
I think I was out of it, more than with it today. Although fair does, around 17:00hrs, I got some visits from , and at last and then finally gave me a rest. Anne returned later on.
I think I’ve taken too many painkillers today. 
But I was in more pain than for ages.
Gawd, I live an exciting life.
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.
I woke up at about 0410 a.m. I changed the calendar clock and then turned on the kettle.


Took a morning view shot.

Then, I felt the innards rumbling. Hello, I thought this was going to be different. Convinced that Constipation-Conrad was preventing the wind from escaping. I poddled to the wet room. And a good job I did, too! Ruled the proceedings. The stinking, gooey evacuation was worse than ever today. Eurgh! Cleaning up took longer than passing the motion. I had a good wash and returned to the kitchen to make the brew of Glengettie. However, my attention strayed as I heard the sounds of fire engine klaxons. This is possibly one of the most extreme photos I’ve ever taken. So, different…
Yes, I got something wrong there, methinks!

I forgot about making the tea and started finishing yesterday’s blog. I was trying to get it done before the food delivery arrived. I was still doing it two hours later when the delivery arrived
I spent a while sorting the fodder out.
Blimey, how many carrier bags were here?.
I soon realised why. I’d ordered two weeks’ worth of spring water bottles (eight x 2-litre) and some crisps while they were on offer. (4 packs of five bags)

Nurses & Carers treats.
Bit of fresh kinds of stuff.
Naturally, Kung Po sauces.
Fridge
Freezer

CorelDraw was used for an hour or three.
I was making up blog date graphics. The new version will not let me save anything, so I’m on the last year. They usually use blackouts when a new one comes out to force us to buy the new one, and this happens every year.

Balnks for hours.
Total mystery what was going on.

Regretfully, as I thought I was returning to faux awareness as Carer Farone was here, I started the meal. I went back to the computer to find that CorelDraw had frozen. I had to turn it off by turning off the electricity. It took me ages to do it, and CorelDraw saved some of the changes, not others. I assumed I did them after the last save I made. Of course, with all this, I had to smell the burning meat in the oven to remember it was cooking in the oven. I had a few mini roast potatoes, so I popped some in the oven, which was already hot!
Please don’t think I was swearing, spitting, cursing, feeling sorry for myself, depressed, annoyed, self-loathing, sick of bothering, or frustrated.

Then Carer Ejaz arrived. I could not find the oven glove to turn the pots over, and he had little time to issue the medications for me. He had a mock look for the mysteriously missing oven glove. After the lad had gone, I had another every-room search for the missing glove of mystery.

Forgetting again about the food in the oven!
The potatoes joined the beef slices in the waste bin!
Please don’t think I was swearing, spitting, cursing, feeling sorry for myself, depressed, annoyed, self-loathing, sick of bothering, or frustrated. 

I had a bag of crisps and some nuts, followed by an iced sucker… I broke another tooth, ¾ of it! Seven missing teeth now, and just to add to the misery, & my gums were bleeding!
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Please don’t think I was swearing, spitting, cursing, feeling sorry for myself, depressed, annoyed, self-loathing, sick of bothering, or frustrated.
Mind you, I was!
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Why didn’t I get the nickname of ‘Lucky’?
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Inchy Today: Monday 19th May 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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Starmer cops for it again
I might say that life is an enigma,
With complications over which to ponder,
I try to understand, to be an analyser,
Will I ever be a true comprehendor?
I’m not a very good fact grasper,
My desire to know grows achier,
I make notes in my adversaria…
Hard to read them with my glaucoma,
HMG gets more and more austerer,
Will life ever again get boshter?
Starmer, the great circumventor…
Fibber, fabulist and fabricator,
A decent con man and storyteller,
His promises get ever zigzaggier,
He may prattle, babble or yatter…
Of things that don’t really matter,
To the ordinary shat-on voter,
A Labour core value nonbeliever,
A degenerate, a political gangster,
Moral derelict, deceptive fact-dodger,
A political delinquent, a dispiriter,
He’s double-crossing, a double-dealer,
Fabricator, killer and demoraliser,
He’s corrupt, immoral, & diabolic!
Rosey cheeks from his dipsomania?.
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Depression Duncan and High-Mode-Horis shared the day again, visiting me so often, but neither had the upper hand. I lied. Duncan has just returned after a decent time with Horis, which gives Duncan the upper hand. I just can’t concentrate. At least they took a while, as they did yesterday, before toying with my mind. So I got a few photos and graphicalisations done to go on before I turned into a… never mind. 
The mistakes made today outnumbered yesterday, maybe two to one. But one of the Accifaupa’s had a distinct bit of humour attached to it. It’s about the only spot of fun all day. I was on a downer for the three Carer calls. But they went well, particularly on the first call. Which was well after the humourous incident of the day. I’m delaying telling you so I can make myself look a tad not so daft.
I’ll start as usual by waking up and somehow freeing myself, oh, so reluctantly, from the bed’s clutches. 

I forced myself to move my legs to get off of the bed.
And were not pleased with being moved. They both gave way together when I got my weight on the floor! I’m so glad they did it when they did, with me having the pleasure of the bed to fall on. It was almost a pleasure. Haha!
While emptying the catheter night pouch, I decided to get a shower, shave, and medicate where I could reach. I checked the kitchen in case I’d left something on or running and took a scarce photograph. In my wandering mind, only a precious few made it to the blog. I think I took several view photos later from different angles, only to find I’d left the card in the computer when I loaded this one.
It took ages for the sun to break through, well into the afternoon.
The tail end of this tale of woe contains the humorous Accifauxpas. I think you’ll laugh at it!

The first job before getting things ready for the task at hand was to remove the catheter muslin bag. I joke not; it took me half an hour, a lot of pain, loss of blood from Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, and the use of some, erm… shall I say, colourful cursing and swearing to get it off undamaged. I’ll ask the Carer later to put it back on for me.
As needed, I was off to the wet room with towels, etc. Plans went askew, and I got seated on the Porcelain Throne in reply to a burst of wind escaping from my rear end. I was actually rushing, thinking things may be starting and coming of their own volition again. But No!
This warped, mangled body, mind, and innards were fooled again. The anticipated near-liquid flushing did not happen. Trotsky Terence wasn’t in the running. 
Ruled the roost. 
After several failed, painful efforts to encourage the movement, I sat back with the crossword book and had a go at it. I’d not been doing well over the last few days on that puzzle, yet I got about ten clues answered!
Conrad releases his hold, and a little wind and a pong permeated out, followed by three massive torpedoes! One after the other. Glad they escaped!
I cleaned my teeth and might have gone into a seizure. I remember the toothbrush hitting something and bouncing down; I heard it fall, and then that was it for a few minutes. I came back and found that I was sitting on the WC again. I felt confused, but there was no pain, accifauxpas, or injuries. Great!

I got the shaving sorted out with almost ease this morning. No droppages, and just one tiny little nick. 
Time to get into the shower.
Oh, I did enjoy it. Cartilages Carole and Chloe were good to me; even Anne Gyna left me alone. (The funny bit is coming soon.)
I did have a bit of a wobble as I got the shower curtain closed. So I plopped my bottom on the shower chair, but the water was on hot and full power, and as the fluid fell on me, I was liberal with the carbolic soap wherever I could reach while sitting down. I left the water showering over me and really enjoyed it!
As usual, I reached for the grab bar from the chair to get up. The Cartilaged gals were again not pleased with being used, letting me know in their typical fashion, pain and threatening to give way. I got both hands on the grab bar just in case and hauled myself up onto my feet. That’s when it dawned on me… there’s only one way to tell you this… I felt something sharp sticking in my bum! Such a surprise that I forgot all about the Cartilage risks and groped to feel what the heck it was… do you want to guess? I’ll wait a bit if so…
It was my toothbrush!

I assume the noise I heard earlier was the toothbrush landing on the shower chair. I had to laugh!
I got on with the medicationings.
It took a while, but then, as I was told to, I dried off the catheter day bag with kitchen towels.

Carer Ejaz arrived. He did a full body check and barrier creamed my ankles and torso. Then, he issued the medications and moved on to getting my diabetic socks on. Bless him!

I’m unsure when, why or how, but I cleaned the fridge a bit. Well, I found this photo on Kodak Tim’s SD card.
Now, I recall this one.
In the red microwave bowl in the fridge, I made a mixture of Vegetable soup, pickled mushrooms, water chestnuts, garden peas, and some potatoes. I stored it for later use. 
Oh, and Korean BBQ sauce with peppers, etc.

Really out of it now, for a long time.
I had recovered a smidge and was back on the blog when Carer Manpreet arrived. I had not seen her before, but that might be wrong. She’s a nice gal.

This snap was on the SD card. I know when I took it, it would have been in the afternoon while I was out of it. I think.

I added some things to tomorrow’s Iceland order. They emailed me to let me know.

I heated the food and got Milk Roll sliced bread that Jenny had given me. Bless her cotton socks.
And tucked in while watching Heartbeat on channel ITV3. Lovely!
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Another messy day.
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Cheerioski!
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Inchy Today: Sunday 18th May 2025

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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I know we have done wrong to be in prison
in the first place – but we are still human
beings. Those are the damning words of
an inmate at HMP Nottingham. He says,
the reality of living in this faculty.
The prisoner, who wished to remain
anonymous, sent a handwritten letter
to Nottinghamshire Live to make people
aware of what he alleges is happening
daily within He says the prison. He and
his fellow are stuck in their cells
almost daily.
“Drug addicts have ‘spice-attacks’, there
are prisoners who are mentally ill and walk
around, taking scraps out of the bins, and
eating them while wing staff watch & laugh. According to the prisoner, officers in each
wing must do a head count of all inmates
in cells before morning and afternoon.
Association times when they are allowed
out of their cells. Responding to the claims
of a lack of support. Inmates struggling with
their mental health & alleged knife fights.
The MoJ spokesperson added: “All those
continue to have full access to NHS
healthcare, and much quicker than most
of their victims & pensioners can.
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 STARMER BASHING AGAIN
Starmer’s shower seems to act qabalistically,
A new word to me means secretively,
They’ve quantity but no quality,
Living in hopes but with little reality,
Come think of it, it sounds like me!
The elections coming quadrennially,
Doing Keir’s wishes, all unpanicky!
Prices rise, fuel & food drastically,
Working on things quantificationally,
Keir’s chin sits squarely, quadratically,
On his head, doing owt he does fancy…
No MP’s object, question, or query…
Getting away with lies & puerility,
Confidently and with stunted quippery,
Voters, the King, all given piosity,
I’ve not seen any MP acting querulously!
Hiding his true aims with great perplexity,
He spits untruths without any penalty,
Changes rules & laws to suit his suitability,
Compassion? Well-insufficient, with exiguity,
Can’t even see Labour’s coming fissiparity,
I’m uneducated, but I see it with clarity,
I’d welcome back the Tory Party!
After Keirs gave the disabled, frailty.
Pensioner robbed, fears, and all financially!
Now, the voters must protest, & rally,
What’s the future for this Labour HMG?
Which other party can win convincingly?
I don’t fret too much, for this country,
It’s Armageddon that worries me!
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ANOTHER SHORT BLOG
I’ve been in and out of the extremes of moods!

He’d stay for a few minutes. Then…
would swap control of the brain for a while. During the morning, this swapping Agony-to-Joy was the routine they decided upon. These, being all short stays, were bearable.
In the afternoon, Duncan came on, and initially, it didn’t bother me too much, as I was convinced that he would soon be gone and replaced by Horis.
Oh, no! On this visit, Duncan was with me for about five hours solid! I felt awful! I was swearing and annoyed at every little thing that went wrong. I was lucky that no Carers arrived while I was feeling such emotions. (Well, Horis was nae bother, Hehe!) The next was, and still is, back to the swapping Agony-to-Joy routine. Thankfully, it returned to short episodes with more time between them calling. I was and am all over the place. Balance, Dizzies, and lousy Concentration. Made all the worse by the return of – .

At least the morning bore fruit with notes and photographs being available.
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Thanks to Grammarly, not too many cock-ups. Of course, there were plenty, but Grammarly kept picking them up for me. I hope.
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The blood was not in the urine.
It came from the wounds on the leg
when I was emptying the bag.

Huh!

I tried the same squares again. No win. I kept my average score of Zero for the week! Hehe!.

Carer Ejaz did the first call of the day.
Medications given. Diabetic socks fitted.
He also barrier-creamed the catheter tube and strap wounds on the right leg. Bless him.

Left leg on the left.
I think?
Right leg on the right.
I think?
They could have been the other way around, of course. A brief seizure while Ejaz was working on me. Come think of it, the photos might be of the same leg after all. Carer Ejaz took the clear one after seeing my bad effort; I may have accidentally deleted the good one of the other leg. I think.

The tree copse.
In the bottom field. Two boys and two girls were spread out, lying down and getting up to youngsters’ habits at 05:30hrs. I waited until later when they had gone. Jealousy!

I added some pickled lemons to the vegetable stew. The usual pickled onions, red onions, and chopped water chestnuts were added with a jar of Kung Po sauce. I grated part of the rind of a pickled lemon and added it to the mixture. I put it all in the biggest microwave bowl and fridge for later use. It was used 10 hours later.

The blood monitor was delivered. The instructions lettering was the smallest I’ve ever seen… like a row of dots. Must get help in reading them so I set it up correctly on the first try.

The longest-ever, deepest, and most massive,
,
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Anne Gyna joined in, and I lost five hours of the day.
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Carer Joe had made a call. We spoke about his going on holiday and that he should be back a week on Wednesday. What else we spoke of faded.

I recall thinking about having some alcoholic beverage drinks. No empties in the bins, so I must have been a good boy.

Carer Mizra came. And I was so confused at the time.
I may have shown her the blood monitor machine.
I was nearly confused when I thought she was doing the teatime call. It’s a good job I came around. So she took the diabetic socks off for me. I had dissolvable paracetamols and some Peptac.

Where did the day go? It was now nearly ten o’clock!
I got on with this blog ASAP. Had to rush it.

Then, I got the nosh sorted out and served it up.
Settled to watch the Match of the Day on BBC1 in 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.
Cheesey-chopped bread rolls dunked in the tasty Hung Po sauce. I could sense the tiny bit of pickled lemon skin in the background. Nice!

Returned as I was dining while watching the football.
Zzz!
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TTFNski!
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Inchy Today: Saturday 17th May 2025

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

MORE A REMINDER THAN CARTOON
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STOP…
Stop, but don’t do nothing…
Think: Is humankind worth saving?
Who will do the adjudicating?
Whom can we trust for officiating?
Who will reveal the declaring?
Will we decide by voting?
The leaders we’ve been electing…
Oligarchs, criminals, always lying…
I find them greedy & mind-boggling,
He seems to enjoy pensioners dying?
<<<<>>>>>
When we bravely request a financial bequest,
We get a failed promise, a behest at best,
Do we vote for the least bloodthirstiest,
We settle for the best of the baddest,
We get Starmer, virtually, Labour’s baddest,
A right-winger, not a Socialist!
A taking backhanders specialist,
Who looks after his own spondulicks,
As lying PMs go, he’s the stealthiest,
Maybe he appeals to schizophrenics.
<<<<>>>>>
Compassion? He hasn’t got the remotest,
Wars, hostages? He’s not worth a sausage,
He’s got his nuclear shelter radiologist,
Is earth worth saving in retrospect,
To be honest, I’ve not got the remotest,
Did you hear of the upcoming protest?
Calls for a national strike from communists,
If it’s all peaceful, I won’t object,
I liked Boris, although the slaphappiest,
Starmer? The Unsincerest!
<<<<>>>>>
Can you believe Keir’s not even prosecutable?
He’s even not at all arrestable!
No chance of him being imprisonable,
He’s sacrosanct; after lying to get electable,
Takes backhanders; what a spectacle…
Clothes, cinema, tickets for Arsenal,
He’s made himself impregnable…
Other MPs’ crimes make them blackmailable,
Yet his crimes are irrefutable!
His greed & dishonesty are kenspeckle!
<<<<>>>>>
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A minimal in the extreme blog today

LAST NIGHT….
Early yesterday evening, to add to the crazy seizure and Ann Gyna popping into the equation, I got the same as I did last Saturday night.
A deep tiredness, depression and, most annoyingly at the time, kicked off for the first time since last Saturday. I nodded off to sleep in the c1966, £300 charity shop bought second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner, even with and both giving me attention and waking me up every so often, I soon got back into bliss.
Carer Joe woke me up. 
I was so wee’d-off. I couldn’t help it.
Within minutes of his departure, I nodded off again.
Mysteriously, but it suited me; never twitched again. And eased off tremendously. And I fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of the old days. Two hours later, Carer Ejaz woke me. 
I WAILED WITH FRUSTRATION.
Poor Ejaz thought I was getting at him. It’s hard to explain how things can be with my conditions, and I felt guilty about the misunderstanding.
Once Ejaz departed, I felt tired and could not get back to sleep. I tried the usual: I put the TV on. Even that failed. After another fruitless hour of trying my best, I finished yesterday’s blog and started this one. 
Around 04:30hrs, I felt I could get some sleep. But needed to utilise the . 
As I got up, the pain from the catheter tube in Little Inchy, now leaning to the left, was agony!

I hobbled to the wet room and got myself seated. The nasal juices flowed, and it took me ages to painfully encourage the controlled evacuation to begin. A little bleeding from . I emptied the pouch into a jug for the Carer to evaluate. Then, I tackled moving the tubing and straps on the catheter in the vain hope of easing the pain. I decided to get the done, being as I was up.
Shaved first. It is not usually recommended when I feel so tired. But, foolishly, I carried on. I amassed four nicks and foolishly . 
Wish I’d taken Kodak Tim 2 with me now. The sink reminded me of, erm… Psycho, I think. Haha!

Orifices scrubbed up and dried.


All the usual. Eye drops & sprays Little Inchies Lesion, 
Another failed go at getting the catheter contraption tube & straps less painful. 
Barrier creamed where I could reach.

I was back on the computer, fell asleep, and crumpled to the floor, landing on my left knee—now the tube and straps are even more painful.
Clamboured up using the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. And thought I’d stay there and get some sleep at long, long last.

That lasted a minute or so, and the landline telephone chirped up. All I could hear was some music? No idea who it was.

Carer Ejaz came in. Well, after I’d unlocked the door, I forgot to do it with the ablutions and Meds performance. A good-looking lad, he was getting some medications out of the prescription drawer in the kitchen.

I’m so tired out. Continues her milder attackd. She’s getting around a bit today. I’m unsure what happened in detail, but the worn-outness and fatigue returned just like last weekend? 
Why only at weekends?
Fell asleep, Carer woke me up.
Put TV on to watch the highlight of the day.
Fantastic Result!
A WARM SMUGNESS FELT!
My hatred of Manchester City is only beaten by my Hatred of Chelsea. Naturally, my loathing of Herr Keir ‘Pensioner-Killer’ Starmer outdoes them both.
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I then proceeded to fall asleep again.
Woken by the Carer. Mizra. Who, I recall, barrier-creamed both ankles. Painkillers were given to counter the almost persistent and graded the urine for me.

I then did some work catching up on this blog.
Before getting the meal, I prepared it earlier and put it in the fridge.
Delicious!
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– – Cheers! – –
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