Inchcock’s Diary, with Memories and an Ode

What happened to Inchcock on this day, in 1953?

On his way home from the getting some cows heel and tripe for his Dad. As he was crossing the canal on the bridge on Wilford Street. A gang of teenage Herberts lifted him and unceremoniously threw him off the bridge into the canal! Being about six years of age, scared to death of water, and unable to swim (His fear was life-long, he still can’t). He struggled to grab hold of a barge rope hanging over the side of the boat but lost his grip, he got cold, and his fingers were not big enough to hold on… As he sank into the water, a pair of strong hands from a bloke in a rowing boat dragged him out and took him home. Where his father knocked the hell out of him for losing the tripe and cow heel, pointing out that the 2/6d (12.5p) cost would come out of his pocket money! Which baffled the lad a bit cause he never did get any pocket money from his Dad in his life?

SUNDAY 15th MAY 2022

05:15hrs, I begrudgingly woke and awaited the brain to join me. Which it did, with the message that I needed a wee-wee. I freed my cumbersomely large bellied body from the £300 second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable, unfit-for-use, not working recliner. NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) took me a while due to the vast amount of  PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling).

Dizzy Dennis kept going at me all morning long in short bursts. I got the waste bag sorted out and started prepping the veg to go in with Josies Chilli meal. Chopped leeks, carrots and peas.

Opened the can of Chilli and started adding the cooked vegetables. Put them in the saucepan and add squid vinegar (liquid salt), chilli powder, Worcester sauce, and malt vinegar. After testing the flavour, I can add gravy salts and tomato puree with basil.

Herbert is noisy again. Bloody Sundays and weekends, he’s always the same!

I visited the Porcelain Throne. A good job that the carer was so late because I must have been in the half-an-hour at least. Most of the time was spent cleaning and clearing up. Trotsky Terence was in charge again. You wouldn’t believe the amount of loo roll used! Tsk!

Got a good wash and showering done, I felt a bit better then. Coming out of the wet room, I got through the door, and by the fairer without a knock, shoulder slamming or toe stubbing.

A new carer came in without ringing the buzzer-chime, and of course, I didn’t hear her coming. Sarah, she’s not been before. Nice gal, but she didn’t take the waste bag with her, no problem. I can do that later with the next one to go. No problemo! Well, as long as Vascular Dementia Doreen lets me remember. Hehehe!

The photos went on through the card reader!!!! So I got the old ones on. Yesterday one here first. The state of the ankles as I came out from the shower yesterday. Not painful nor itchy, although they did later.

These on the right are what they looked like after this morning’s session at ablutioning. Not any different, really. Or are they, and Cataract Kathleen has missed something?

A morning photographicalisation from the kitchenette next. The bright sunshine on my face made it impossible to take a good one.

My evening, well, was the only meal of the day. Potato slices baked, tomatoes, crap tasting sugar snap peas. And gorgeous mushroom pate on a couple of baps. Taste Rating: 8.8/10!

These two were taken with a sort of foggy haze in the air. After seeing them, I thought they had a kind of gentle quality to them. That’s not what I mean, but as close to what I can explain. Peaceful, tranquil, they made me feel free from strife… of course, that didn’t last for long. But a good sensation while it lasted… I’m now awaiting the arrival of the next Whoopsiedangleplop. I pressed on with updating and posting the Saturday bog to WordPress. The Facebooking, WP Reader, and some WP comments are to read and reply to.

Herbert’s cacophony of banging, clanging and grinding noises continues.

A wee-wee, and back to the photos. I took this shot from the balcony. RVD (Red-Van-Man) is back, but the small red car has taken up his beloved parking spot on the yellow no-parking lines. Hahaha!

Time to start checking on and serving up Josie’s nosh now. On my way to the kitchen, ♫Oh, Susan♫ chimed out from the doorbell? Josie came to tell me that she was going out to a restaurant with her sister and didn’t need the meal! Well, blow me, fancy letting me know half an hour before I deliver the meal! But let’s face it, it’s much better than five minutes. Hehehe!

She said she could collect it tonight on her way home. So, I said I’ll put it in a big jar to let it cool, then you can place the container into your fridge; that’ll be two chillies to use later on. Josie added, “She’s (Her sister) has only just called me to let me know”.

Herbert just dropped something this time; it sounded heavy. I gave him a gentle tap on the piping with my walking stick. Not that it will do anything to help me get some peace. He is the most equanimous, unforthcoming, stand-offish person I’ve ever met. Superior Shithouse!

“Clunk, thud, ratattattatat!” That serves me right for getting annoyed. Then I kept getting scratching-like and knocking noises. I’m so sorry, Sir Herbert!

Two chilli meals in the container and some treats for Josie when she gets back from the meal with her Sister at the restaurant. I’ll get mine (meal) started now, then see if owt is on the TV cause the computer problems are driving me mad! (Of course, there are many other reasons, Haha!)

I put the potatoes and vegetarian burger in the oven, peas in the pan, chopped some mini tomatoes and got the TV on for half an hour while the burger and spuds baked. And put the TV on. To find the Ladies Cup Final was showing, and I got deeply into it, so interested that I forgot all about the cooking!

I fumbled out of the £300 second-hand, decrepit, c1968 recliner, got Walter the Wooden Walking Stick, and into the kitchenette. I nervously opened the oven door… The ‘bake for 30 minutes’ food had been in for nearly an hour!

The breadcrumbed veggie burger did not look appealing at all. It felt very hard. As expected, the potatoes were overdone; some of them, the smaller ones, were inedible and had to be thrown. Yet I ate all of it! Enjoyed it too! The burgers left in the fridge will get overcooked; it was firm and delicious! The spuds were tough to eat, and no doubt damaged a few of my remaining teeth, but it all tasted grand! Flavour Rating: 8/10! I hope Duodenal Donald and Harold’s Haemmorhoids can cope with it, and I get no toothache! Hahaha!

Cara Sara arrived, again not ringing the chime and giving me a shock when she entered the room. But a lovely surprise, she is tall, young, beautiful and charming. (Dang to old age! Har-har!)

Sweet Morpheus was again resistant to my requests for shut-eye! But, when he permitted me to nod off, I slept through without any jolting awakes for just under six hours! Great!

Friends Comments when I got shot (First-Time)

“Oh, yer?” An old schoolmate by the name of Elgin,
“Could ‘ave been anyone!” fellow security officer Kathryn,
“Tell me another!” My neighbour in Sherwood, Glyn,
“Shit!” I forget his name, Welsh lad from Abergynolwyn,
“Serves yer right!” The supervisor at control called Kelvin,
“Why?” An old passion of mine, a big gal named Roslyn,
“I wunt du yoor job!” Traffic Warden, called Edwin,
“Tommy rot, yer tit!” Richard, but we called him Dick Turpin,
“Will yer be off work?” Manager, we all called him Fagin!
From the hospital, they sent me back to the site again…
“Can yer drive yersen there, course you can!”… Fagin!
“You can’t claim off of us!” Site manager, on arriving…

Evening All!

Inchcock Today: Monday 14th February 2022: Confusionableitis!

Inchcock Today

Monday 14th February 2022

Jolly Good Morning!

I stirred back into pretend-life around 02:00hrs with a jump that left me in the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered, grotty, tatty recliner, as the Thought-Storms started. I’d had a few earlier bursting awake episodes, but I got back to sleep pretty quickly. This time, Thought-Storms made sure I gave up on any idea of going back to sleep… Humph!

After fretting about the eye-sight problems, then working out what day it was, an unexpected surge of interest in cleaning up overcame me. It didn’t last long, of course! I made up three bags of waste, refilled the washing fluid bottle, cleaned the kitchenette sink and considered the possibility of my mopping the floor! But I was saved from housework impulse by the sudden need to use the Porcelain Throne. 

Had I been asleep in the recliner, I would never have made it in time! Boris Bowels was in complete charge of the evacuation and timing. So, it might have been a good thing I did get up so soon? All over in seconds until the second wave of sloppy stuff followed on… Stinking, messy and a hell of a job cleaning up the wet room furniture and me, again! I cleaned the floor in the wet room a little… Oh, I am a good boy sometimes. Haha!,

I washed and made for the medical drawer and the Galpharm capsules, taking two of them! Well, things were very watery and gooey, so I thought it would be safe to take two. I just hope it isn’t going to be house-bricks on the next visit to the Throne… Please!

I got the kettle on for a brew, and looked out of the window, taking this sadly very poor, in fact terrible, effort at photographicalisationing.

Then, as I closed the window, I trapped my finger, no bother at all. I possibly may have uttered or mumbled something like, “Oh, flipping ‘eck!” or similar.

The body temperature was taken on the digital machine. All the 3’s showed up. I got a bit of a shock when I checked online with the NHS site… This is the result of my checking to see what 33.3°c indicated… I am not confident enough to call anyone. It may well be that the machine is not giving correct results? I do not feel poorly and have been below 35°c for the last seven days or more now? Ah, well, on to the sphygmomanometerisationing…

Another not so good one. Yet it’s only s little higher than it has been and far lower than many results this month? I don’t usually fret over these things, but I hope the haematology nurse comes to do the Warfarin blood test tomorrow, and I can have a word with her about things.

On to the computer, and the photo reader was playing up again. Then… Well, fancy that, it hasn’t let me down since yesterday, and Frid, Thursday, Wednesday… Grrr!

Turned everything and booted up again, still no signal. Humphers! Ten minutes or so and came back on at a crawling speed. But, I pressed on.

I spent a couple of hours finishing off yesterdays blog and posting, and Carer Richard arrived. Which caught me by surprise, as I thought he was on holiday this week? Although I was glad to see him, he was not too pleased to be here! I asked if he had been called in and got an incoherent muffled answer in reply, which told me not to push the issue. I’ve no idea what had gone on. But the lad was in a dour mood for him. I soon cheered him up with some treats and a joke or two. He slowly, nearly got to being back to his usual self. Hehehe! He took the three waste bags out with him, bless him.

I made a brew and back onto the computer… but…

You stand-need to get more involved with Three and Vodaphone, as you are doing when you can’t even supply even a half-decent internet service, Mr Fries? I suppose it’s all number-juggling, money on paper? You’re good at that, mist and mirrors with the profit, but crap in running an internet provider service. Just thought I’d let you know. I am one of the suckers using Virgin Media now that Liberty-Global has bought the company.

Got the service back on eventually. Went on WordPress Reader, then the Comment replying. The photo thingy started to work, so I got the pictures on post-haste.

Here’re the earlier shots taken from the kitchenette window. To all intents and purposes, the skyline looked as if it was a sunset, with the white stripe across it. Different if nothing else.

Things took a sudden turn for the worse around 10:00hrs. I was making another brew of Glengettie, dropped the teabag, lent on the stick and got down to retrieve it… Oh, dearie me! I sharp pain in the groin, just like the one in 1988, when I got a hernia! Ever since, it has been twanging at me whatever I’ve been doing, hobbling, sitting down,  looking out of the window… but especially when I bend or stretch for something.

I took an extra Codeine straight away. And I am prepared to take another if things don’t calm down in the nether regions. Grogglefrogs!

I decided to get the nosh done early, as I had a feeling things were going to get worse, as Dizzy Dennis and Shaking Shaun had joined in with Hernia Henry, giving me bother.

No cooking involved to be on the safe side… well, no, that’s not strictly true. I did some baked stone rolls in the oven for ten minutes. Then got them buttered, and sliced the last of the large Natoora black tomatoes, to have in the cobs. Chicken thighs and a banana to round off the meal. With not feeling up to much, I couldn’t eat anywhere near all of it, but I did gobble all the black tomatoes.

Got the pots washed, and I drifted off into a fitful, tossing and turning, waking every five minutes for an hour or so. When I woke and decided to get myself ready for the ablutionalisationing to be done, I thought I’d dreamt of cleaner Esther, she was raising her voice at me… again, but I couldn’t recall why.

Ablutioning Farces

  • I went to get the fresh jammies to put on after the session, but could I find them? No! So I got the ones I’d put in the laundry basket and sprayed them with freshener.
  • Went into the wet room and realised I’d put the fresh jammies in there ready. I feel such a fool!
  • Cleaning the teeth and another filling that the dentist but it fell out! They ought to be butchers, not Dentists!
  • Shaving, two almost symmetrical cuts, both tiny, one under each earhole. Work of art that was!
  • Showering; as I was bending down to wash the ankle ulcer, Dizzy Dennis had me over – even for me, and I was there, this was amazing… I clouted my head in the exact same spot against the same power box as I did two days ago! It didn’t bleed much, stopped on its own.
  • Drying off, I partly cleared the contents of the floor cabinet in one swoop. Now I was pee’d-off with myself!

On the plus side, there was no toe-stubbing, and the medicationings went much more straightforward than expected.

The legs looked to be in fine fettle; even Arthur Itis was in a good mood with me; bless his cotton socks! Talking of socks, I put some on… NOT using SGG (Sock-Glide-Glenda) Cost me a lot of pain, but surely less than using the dreaded metal monstrosity, Glenda!

The feet looked even better than the legs did. Well, apart from the feeling of worms under the skin on the old Ankle Ulcer area. Within a few hours of this itching starting, the pain usually follows. Hey-Ho!

Off into the kitchen to get the kettle on…

I was pulled up in tracks – The window was ajar? The server trolley was well out of its usual position, over near the fridge? And the bowl I’d left clothes soaking in was empty, no sign of the cloths anywhere… Had I lost it altogether here?

I stood musing for a second and let my grip on the walking stick relax while trying to engage with my brain and memory. I got the picker-upperer to get the stick back (Hernia Henry was still giving me jip). The head natural went down, and I noticed something even more puzzling! The oven door had been cleaned! What? Who? How? There is no way I could have handled that job the may the stomach is?

My thoughts began to blend into a possible reason for the oven door. Maybe I had not dreamt of Esther? Perhaps she actually came to the flat… that would explain the moved items and cleaned oven? My mind was half and half on the matter!

A-side brain: Thought, I know I’m getting senile, but indeed I’d have known if Esther had called, she scares the life out of me with her commands and demands… I must have been aware…
B-side brain: It’s obvious she has been…
A-side brain: But she left no note or message…
B-side brain: She wasn’t to know you’d have a funny turn, was she?
A-side brain: Who said I had a funny turn?
B-side brain: Well, let’s face it, you nodded of at a time you’ve never nodded off, dint yer?
A-side brain: Well, yea… suppose so.
B-side brain: You can’t rest now, can you? You’ve got to know…
A-side brain: I could give her a call… I’d look and sound like a pratt, though!
B-side brain: So what’s changed?
A-side brain: Bugger it, you’re right, I’ll ring her now…

Embarrassing as it was, I did call her and asked if she’d been to the flat. “Yes, you were not well, and I could not wake you up!” So I let you sleep, but you were shaking your right leg and shoulder all the time?

I didn’t bother explaining to her again about Peripheral Neuropathy, Pete; I just said it doesn’t hurt. (Of course, when it gets more active, it has been known to have me off of the recliner with a thud. But that’s another tale).

It was a kind of pleasant feeling to know that I wasn’t going proper crazy, anyway.

The door chime rang out. I feared it might be Esther, cause she was in another flat when I rang her! But it was Josie returning her Sunday lunch tray and dish. It cheered me up when she said how much she’d enjoyed it this week! Smug-Moded!

That reminds me, the lady who I took the Strawberries to, her name, which escaped me yesterday, is Frances! I think I may have a photo of the gal; I’ll have a look. That’s Francis on the left, with Penny in Woodthorpe Court lobby when it was being done up a few years ago.

I took a photographicalisation of Sherwood from the kitchenette window. The rain was falling at the time.

Then I made a bottle of orange juice.

The rain suddenly stopped, and darkness fell rapidly. I bet there will be some beautiful sunset views to take later in, give in about an hour and a half, and I’ll be back at the window David Baileying.

Oh, I’ve done Facebooking for yesterday yet. Tsk! Treated me to a mini-lemon meringue pie and got back to the blogging work…

I was feeling a little dodgy, weak, confused again. It could just be the bang on the head, I suppose.

Hahaha! I’m used to them, though. But there may be a limit…

Bad news on the weather front warning.

The Meteorological Office has issued a ‘Danger To Life’ warning for Wednesday & Thursday this week. With a possibility of snow gales in the North. They tell us that the last storm took three lives, and this one will be worse.

Six of the best kitchen window shots of the Sunset tonight

Bootiful”

The door-chime didn’t chime to wake me tonight. It was young Carer Kiya who came into the room, who came in to give me shock again as she woke me up. Such a pretty young thing stirring me back into imitation life was pleasant enough. It could be embarrassing if I am using the wee-wee bucket or making mad rampaging love to a female when she comes in unannounced. But I had to ask her to use the chime in future, then walk straight in.” Although the chances of the second scenario are nil!” With a broad smile on my face so as it would not sound as if I was ticking her off. She missed the funny side of it. But said she would use the chime in future. Bless her!

She sorted the medications out and watched me as I took them. I took one of the Hemp capsules separately. It went down okay this time.

Gave her her choice of nibbles, a Cadbury’s mini Easter egg, and a can of Fanta orange. Kiya pointed out that she is only seventeen, so no alcoholic drink was chosen. I thanked her, and she took the waste bags to the chute for me on her way out.

No messing then, I got down into the recliner in search of intended Sweet Morpheus, this time. But it took a couple of hours or so before I could nod off properly. Thought Storms that at times felt like dreams, but they couldn’t have been, I didn’t nod of for hours. All a part from the feeling rough and sleeping for a while this afternoon?

In desperation, I even put the TV on, thinking that the first set of adverts would send me off to meet Sweet Morpheus. Ha! They didn’t. However, it just boosted the rate of the Thought Storms. Humph!

Ode To The Day

This was a very different, confusing sort of Monday,
At times, I cried, laughed, self-hated, tried to pray,
One moment things were going along appealingly…
But ended up badly, going so appallingly!
All-day long, everything I did, was absentmindedly…

Momentarily, seemingly, things went merrily…
Often, sourly, frustratingly, alarmingly and acridly,
The tumble in the shower… was almost expectedly?
Thought-Storms raged, some viciously, others banally?
Fears and worries increased, most of them baselessly!

Vascular Dementia Doreen, ever more harrowingly slyly…
She allowed bits of memory and information today…
To be accessed, but all the part recollection ambiguously,
I didn’t need telling; I was going off my trolley…
What bits of logicality I had turned into banality!

Sadly, the above appraisal is close to reality…
Life is apathetic, virtually accidental, and agonistically…
Missing opportunities for joy, affectionately…
My mind wanders, as do bodily things, medically…
I await many appointments, clinicopathologically,
Mayhaps one day, I can report one going blithefully?

The Nottingham Lads Diary – with Odeing

Inchcock Today – Saturday 29th January 2022

Saturday 29th January 2022

After another ‘orrible night of ever waking up, and Thought-Storm attacks, with a few nocturnal hobbles to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), for painful, partly uncontrollable urinating; And having to clean and freshen up from the effects of the PMD (Pre-Micturition Dribbles), and CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribbling and splashes), all of varying nature.

One is like a torrent, belting out with no control over it and suffering from the splashback. The next, so painful and barely a trickle that somehow still managed to spray over my pyknic, wobbly, midriff more than found its way into the NWWB! Then I had to clean up, freshen up, and back down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, unfit-for-use, recliner.

I seemed to nod off again quickly enough each time, but sleep never lasted more than a few minutes – then it was shooting awake again, and back to the mess-making, to be cleaned up again, wee-weeing.

Around 04:10hrs, I gave up trying to prompt Sweet Morpheus. And decided to get the kettle on, take some photo’s of the dim view of the sky and end car park. I got the kettle on and required yet another wee-wee?

I took a photo with the Canon camera. It’s getting old and wrong now, just like me. (Hehe!) The spring on the SD card has gone, and Canon sometimes doesn’t recognise the card in the camera!

The shot I took of the end car park was far too dark to see much at all. So, I had to go on CorelDraw and adjust shadow, brightness, contrast and intensity to turn it into how it looks here on the right. Smug-Mode-Engaged!

This is the first time a car has not been parked on the yellow no parking zone! Well, while I’ve been taking the photos anyway.

It looks a little eerie if that’s the word I’m looking for. Nightmarish enough to be used as a ghost-themed book cover?

I couldn’t do enough work on the second shot of the view from the kitchen window. Sulk-Mode-Engaged

I made a belated brew of Glengettie, and I remembered that the Health Checks were supposed to be done again. So, I took a Cocodomal and Poo-Hardener, (Gooey last night, and messy! And tended to the Health Checks. I have the maximum SYS, Dia and Pulse figure safely put away; if they exceed them, I’ve got to call the paramedics. I put them safely away seems to have been lost to Vascular Dementia, Doris. Tsk! I started of with the checking. Took the BP and got these results, which I am confident, are well below the danger zones the nurse gave me.

All three readings were nuanced! It’s been a while since I was told I could stop doing the regular sphygmomanometerisationing. Since I started again, I’ve missed doing a few of them.

Then the temperature was taken. 34.9° c; I felt this was fine, but I checked on Dr Google anyway: “Mild +hypothermia (32–35 °C body temperature) is usually easy to treat. However, the risk of death increases as the core body temperature drops below 32 °c. Nae, bother methinks.

I made another brew and destroyed a banana. Made an Iceland order, then I took a stand-up shower at the sink.

A little early to use the noisy shower yet.

And it went jolly well… no, amazingly well! Fantastic, in fact! Here are a few things that pleased me greatly: Little Inchies fungal lesion had hardly bled at all! Shaving, one, I say ONE tiny nick only! Only two dropsies in the whole session! I had to use the Porcelain Throne while doing the ablutions… and it was smooth, bloodless, and not in the slightest bit messy or gooey! Double Smug-Mode Utilised! Only one walking into anything, the door as I left the wet room.

I had just one naughty that bothered me. A bad one; due to my hitting my ankle on the metal tray as I pulled my foot away. I stubbed my toe on the bucket that just had been cleaned and disinfected.

The state of the veins in the ankles and feet was not a pretty sight, but overall… Yippy!

I had a closer look at the vasculitis and venous thromboembolism veins on show. I think these are what the cancelled appointment at the QMC Anticoagulation and Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT) was about? However, at 3.5 last time, the Warfarin level was spot on!

The Carer arrived after I’d dressed and gone on the computer. The Carer was in a rush, missed checking my swallowing the tablets, and forgot to take the waste bag to the chute for me (again). But she was obviously in a hurry, bless her. Not an easy job for the gals to do, with different people having differing, altering needs.

I now find myself in a position to give you an updated taste report on the £3 mini box of the Marks & Spencers Marmite Dinky Cheese Pinwheels I got from Ocado. Tasteless, Crap! Having eaten some of them.

Made a start on this blog creating. During which, the wee-weeing has grown less frequent – Phew!

I came across last nights sunset photographs. Both from the kitchenette window. I’m not sure why I took two that were of the same area, basically? I should imagine that Peripheral Neuropathy Pete would be to blame, and the finger must have stuck unfeelingly to the button?

I went on the WordPress Reader to see what folk have posted. Then answered some WordPress comments. Then did some TFZer Facebooking until…

Time to get the fodder sorted out – Oh yea!

Got the Cornish Pastie into the fridge; set the times. Potatoes were already in the slow cooker, and peas were on a low light in the saucepan.

A sort of fumble-thud took place in the obese stomach area, making the flab wobble! A little belching and a few stabbing pains. On my way to the wet room, the rumbling began again. I tore off the trews and PP’s and unceremoniously plonked me botty on the Throne… the action started immediately!

All seemingly over and done, I had the sensation that it wasn’t yet. So, I had a go at the easy crossword puzzle book. And very nearly got four clues answered but made do with three. (Hehehe!)

After ten minutes or so, the backup evacuation came. I was so glad I stayed in situ for its possible arrival.

Then, having washed and cleaned things, I realised I could smell something like burning… I dropped the nail brush…

Panic, flap, heartbeat racing, I rushed out to get to the kitchenette to see what I’d done. Casually shoulder-charging the door frame again on my way – now having to contend with Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, I lunged my way into the kitchen, nose twitching and looking for signs of smoke from the oven… I did feel a dirty great Grade A, class one fool! It was the peas that had been burnt, as for the Cornish Pastie in the oven… I’d not even turned the thing on! So, Vascular Dementia Doris had got me bleeding, bruised, bashed about and going barmy. Left me with a right load of cleaning and sorting out; Trowing away the burnt peas, scrubbing the saucepan, getting some more on the boil, wet room to clean, PPs needed changing. I got the oven on again and reset the timer.

Then, as I was getting the tray and things out, I had another thud in the stomach – no, not the bowels or bladder this time – a sudden fear that I’d left the tap running in the wet room! I grabbed Metal Mickey and went with all haste to check. I believe I might have said something like, “You stupid fart of an old ♠ 6† f=ing idi⅛¬” Something along those lines! I could have cried with joy when I first found everything okay in the room… then I was coming out, I stubbed my toe against the stand-up drier radiator!

If There Is A Lord…

I’d like to ask him/her some questions; this’ll be awkward…
If there is a God, un he finds I don’t believe, I could be buggered?
Here goes: Why did you make me earthbound…
With the minuscule willie wot I found?
Girl or Boy problem? I’ll be bound!

My young life was cruel, but I was only semi-hard…
Mam and Dad fighting, she left… I ate bread and lard!
Or on the weekend sometimes an Oxo cube or a pilchard,
Fast forward, why take Suzie from me? It made me hard!
Memories, whatever you do, I’ll not discard!

My hair fell out at 20; others at 80 have plenty, tit!
I tried to be a good man, my hearing went, have you heard?
Then you stopped my heart, a mechanical one replaced it…
Ulcer, being shot, hernias, life was haphazard…
Even my already mini-willy further withered!

I pressed on, expecting things to improve, with disregard…
Got shot again, and you sent me Stroke… Flashforward…
Made me redundant at 62; you are a wizard!
I survived that; Vascular Dementia to me, you catapulted!
Rotten teeth, poverty causes that and being demented…
The hearing gets worse, things are going downward…
Now both eyes Cataract, Saccades and they’re Glaucoma’d…

The money is getting low,
But of course, you’ll know…
I’ll have to rob an apple orchard,
Keeping tabs on your scoreboard?
Now, black depressions on me, you bestow!
The ailments make me fat when I should be like a scarecrow!

Oh, and why, with all the other crap, did you give me hammertoe?
I really have tried to be a decent fellow…
But bad luck seems to constantly flow…
To the little-willied idiot that you know…
The one with ever-increasing ailments, now it’s lumbago!
And, from the fungal lesion, blood continues to flow,
You even teased me last year with impetigo!

The funeral’s all paid for when I have to go…
Sorry I cannot muster any faith or belief, though…
I don’t believe in Christmas or Mistletoe…
I’ll be leaving behind a few friends, but many more foe,
Slowly I’m getting ready, feeling more mellow…
I’d love to leave behind me an afterglow…
Reincarnation? Oh, no, no, no!
Is it yet time for me to go?
Please let me know…

………………………………………………

Finally got the meal sorted out, served up and feasted upon with great relish and satisfaction.

It took me no time at all to entirely consume this nosh.

The black tomatoes were as perfect as one can get, most beautiful tasting! Sob! Shame it’s the last of them.

Only the Cornish Pastie was below par, but not by a lot. The plate and tray were scrapped of crumbs as well, into my mouth! Hehe! A Flavour Rating of 8.4/10.

As I was doing the washing up, I took three snaps of the dying sunset in the darkness.

The first one was taken straight ahead from the kitchenette window.

The next one was taken to the left. Amazing sky colouring again, I thought.

As I was getting ready to take a shot of the car park on Chestnut Way…

I knocked over the kitchen towel holder, which took the clock, a tub of Citric Acid and my mirror with it, on the way down to the floor! Thundergrongles!

They made a clattering noise as they met with the floor. Which I didn’t mind, cause Herbert in the flat above has been banging away all day, on and off. I hope he heard it, but I felt bad for the folks below my flat. Fantastically, no breakages from the mirror; the acid did not break open either! Wondered if my prayer in ode above had worked? Hehehe!

I got the car park photo taken. Then I got the cleaning up sorted out from the Accifauxpa.

Carer Valerie arrived, which was nice and cheered me up. A Carer who cares is a Carer you want to manage for you. There are a few. Well, many, but one bad apple can upset the apple cart and start the depressions. Hahaha!

The Nottingham Lads Diary – with Odeing

Inchcock’s Ode: Talking with my ailments – Part Two

Talking with my ailments

Introduction:

Part Two – Shaking Shoulder Shirley

After Inchcock was diagnosed with Peripheral Neuropathy, he then got told he was a diabetic. Then had a stroke. (He’s a lucky lad… Not!) Next, a Subconjuntival Haemorrhage in his right eye.

Then while recovering in an NCH (Nottingham City Homes) Care Home, Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley introduced herself. He presumes this is due to the (Nicodemus’s) Nerve ends dying. But the occasional Neuropathy Pete’s shuddering, shaking and jerking of the right side of his body and limbs rarely last for more than a few minutes at max. Usually, Shirley is a lot more violent for some unknown reason and can wear the old man down when she’s persistent. Shaking and lashing about. Her efforts recently have increased somewhat, time-wise, and Inchcock says, “After a long hour or so session, I’m convinced she is trying to wrench my humeral head bone free of the socket” Oh, and Inchcock also needed three stitches in a shaving cut!

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

The Nocturnal Natter with Shirley

A mixture of awake, half-asleep, and dreamt discussions, wrote from notes and during the actual multiple chin-waggings…

Inchcock: I’m not sure why or how you came about… Shirley: Ha!, now you talk to me; I’m not as important as Bloody Boris bladder then, what’s that about?
Inchcock: Whaddya mean about?
Shirley: Yo started this ‘ere Talking to yer ailments series of blogs off wiv him… not me, who is far more painful indeed… innit, no doubt?
Inchcock: Well… it depends which ailment is worst at the time… giving me the severest clot…
Shirley: Argh, shurrup! You’ll know now why I’ve been giving the jerks and aches then? Cause yer doesn’t rate me was mean enough… yer, I’ll put yer in more pain than gout!
Inchcock: I wouldn’t and don’t doubt your pain-giving qualities at all; I’m already in pain, tired and worn-out!
Shirley: I suppose Bartholomew give it more to you?
Inchcock: Well, he has been lasered and still works,
Shirley: Cum on mush, look how yers treated me, bad or not!
Inchcock: I massage you twice a day with Phorpain gel
Shirley: Not like you, an old fart that still drinks bottled stout! Yer just an ungrateful old trout!
Inchcock: I…
Shirley: And another thing, I’ve never let the shoulder joint fall out!
Inchcock: Well, I doubt…
Shirley: I’ll tell yer to wot you done to me int past, Inured me you have, I remember the Colwick security stakeout!
Inchcock: Go one then, tell me all about it… it won’t make me freak out!
Shirley: Now yer makin’ me want to puke and pout!
Inchcock: Pout? Why? What about?
Shirley: Oh! Yer not bovvered about me puking then, yer an emotional wash-out!
Inchcock: I remember now, Shirley, Colwick, when we did an overnight lookout…
Shirley: Ah, year, that’s wot it was about!
Inchcock: When I was using the night goggles, from the back of the van… and from it, I fell out, giving you a good clout?
Shirley, you landed in a field, and blood did spout…
Inchcock: Blood? Who’s? No, surely not?
Shirley: It was me, and you bleeding.. have you no memory left or what?
Inchcock: Erm…
Shirley: The burglars arrived? You felt around in the dark for the R.T., went out of the van to take a nighttime photo, missed the step.., and fell on me! What an idiot!
Inchcock: Ah, yes… I fell on a broken tin pot…
Shirley: And it cut me! And you still never got the I.D. shot!

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

Notes made for later use…

In the afternoon, Inchcock: Fell asleep…

Shirley: Oi, you Inchie! Are you ready to have anuvver talk wiv me?
Inchcock: Well, I’d like for me…
Shirley: Don’t tell me, you’re back on the Drambuie?
Inchcock: No, no, no, I don’t drink anymore…
Shirley: Sounds like an oxymoron, yer fibbing, you see…
Inchcock: No, I’m not, you’ve been hanging around for over seventy-odd years, must have noticed, so you must indeed acquiesce, concede, and agree?
Shirley: Oh, trying to get clever with words, I see?
Inchcock: Why are you so nasty and sarkie?
Shirley: Me? I’ll tell yer why, dumbo! In left Shoulder Lilly, never, always me, that’s what causes my incongruity! Why is it always me the doctors stick the hypos in?
Inchcock: Now look, we’ve grown old together, Shirley…
Shirley: Yea!
Inchcock: We’ve been through some tough times, we all suffer, Duodenal Donald, Anne Gyna, Reflux Roger, Deaf Darren, Hemorrhoidal Harold, Saccades Sandra all of them, oh, and Toothache Tiffany…
Shirley: Enough of this claptrap mush! But I do wish you well with this little ditty!
Inchcock: She suddenly returned into the ether; what a pity!

Time To Get An Iceland Order Done, methinks

A bit bare, innit?

A Long Hobble to the Doctors – Guess who forgot to take his camera?

I had rather hoped that the last few days, nonsensical mishaps, clangers, errors, Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas, and the accompanying misery they brought; would be bound to lessen, and albeit an imitation joy would return to the Nottingham Lad. Peace would burst out, and joy would reign…

But, No! Although the morning started well, yes, really. Within minutes of waking up, the wee-weeing were on the move again, and that gave me confidence… well, the hope, that the Doctors Visit would go well, and bladder-bother-wise, there would be no embarrassing moments. The bit I was getting a smidgeon excited about was getting out and taking some photos on my hobble to the surgery. It’s been so long since I saw, I mean walked outside the flats.

My main concerns were forgetting to take the camera and not leaving anything on that should not be in the apartment. Cockily…

I thought it would be wise to get the camera into the coat pocket now, along with the bus pass for the return journey as soon as I got my ever-increasing in volume flabby flobby stomached body, from the c1968,  £300, second-hand, c1968, horrendously grungy coloured, eyesore of a haemorrhoid-testing, unfit-for-use, recliner.

Whistling to myself! Yes, I was feeling a little cocky!

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

I took a snap of the tootsies; they were not looking too bad at all this morning.

Rose up, caught my balance, and responded to the demand from Bladder-Boris, and took a wee-wee, a pain-free one too!. Things had started well!

Took the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket), emptied, cleaned and sanitised it, then went to the kitchenette and got some potatoes in the slow cooker. While the kettle was heating up, I took a snap of the view… the sky had an odd hue to it?

Made a mug of Glenettie, and started on updating yesterday’s blog for an hour or two, then went to make another brew, Thompsons Punjana this time, and got involved in washing the thick jumper in the sink.

Got it washed, rinsed, wrung and hung above the sink to drip dry.

The brain engaged, and I remembered to put the camera into the jacket pocket. I even remembered that I had to wear clothes that gave the nurse easy access to my arm… Yes, the letter from the surgery told me to! Humph! Anyway, my being nervous about intimidating Fog-Horn Nurse, I worked out how to oblige. When I get the ablutions done, I’ll wear my sleeveless jacket next to the skin and a thick cardigan over it, so I can easily give the Obergrüppenfureress nurse no delay. Not that I’m scared of her or anything like that… but I am. Hehe!

The Carer arrived a little late, not that it mattered, I have time to get everyone done for going out, the appointment isn’t until midday. It was Carer Richard who came; I was his last call. He’s been called in. Another carer didn’t turn up.

This suited me down to the ground cause being the final call, he had time for a natter with me. Mostly mutual moans over the NHS and Doctors in particular, with some fantastic tales Richard related. I thought at first that our laughing might disturb Herbert in the flat above… which made me even happier at the thought of the noisy, arrogant, taciturn, aloof Herbert being disturbed by my noise for once. Not that I have anything against the antisocial, evasive, uncongenial, phlegmatic, pococurante, gentleman, of course. (I lie well sometimes!)

After Richard left, taking some bags to the chute for me on his way, I got the blog updating finished, then did a little Facebooking. Time to get the ablutions done. Long gone are when I would make sure I’d got half-an-hour to get the ablutions done; it’s an hour nowadays needed. Everything went tremendously smoothly… well, all bar the shaving bit. I’m still confused over this hair-raising anomaly… Hehe!

How come the hair still grows behind my earholes and nowhere else? Hehehe!

I took the Canon camera from the coat pocket to record this little Accifauxpa, then rushed it back to the jacket, and I finished showering and medicationing. Got on the planned attire… Which must have made me look bloody awful. A well-stretched woolly jumper, with a multi-pocketed jacket and no shirt on underneath, which left part of my chest open to the elements, lumpy… but it was warm for me, once I got outside and on my journey. Which you will read, was delayed…

I got the bags checked, nibbles for the Doctors surgery staff, and Deana & Julie, off I went down in an elevator.

THE ELEVATOR SCARE!

It genuinely frit me when I got in the cage with the trolley, and the lift began to move, and loud creaking noises could be heard! And when the brake was applied at the ground floor, a screeching was heard! I thought maybe it was because I had the hearing aids in and new batteries? I was going to call on Deana’s office and would mention it to her. I hobbled through the link passage and through to the office – but no one was in! Natalie from the Care Team came in, and we had a minute chinwagging, and I forgot all about the lift! Hey-ho!

WHOOPSIEDANGLEPLOP!

As I reached the end of the road, to turn right down Winchester Street, so many photographicalisationing opportunities were on view. The new flats being built, cars parked right up on the pavement that I had to walk on the road to pass. The git in a BMW who papped at me… all were begging to be photographed… But No! Who had put the wrong multi-pocketed jacket on, with the camera now in the other jacket pocket? With the cash! Yes, it’s not a tricky question, is it! And I wanted to do some shopping at Lidl and Wilko as well. I calmly spat, swore venomously, stubbed my toe on the trolley wheel, spat and cursed again, and just carried on – hoping I could remember the pin number if I ever got to a shop. I may have cried a little too?

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

I’ll try to make the rest of the journey in Ode, but it might not be terrific…

Further down the street, I got almost angry,
Double glazers blocked the footpath again!
I felt bitter and almost insurrectionary,
Back into the road to pass, and then…
Another pap-pap from a driver, an obscenity!
I felt like going and having tea in the kitchen,
Where the hell’s the local Constabulary?

Down and onto Mansfield Road I did turn,
A bloke on a mobility scooter gave me a gurn,
Looked like he’s just left a pub or tavern!
Manners and respect he never learned?

Up towards Carrington, having lost my earlier swank,
I’d forgotten the tenners to swap at the bank!
An Escooter from behind with a clank,
My hopes and respect for humanity sank

Top of the hill, I was tired and feeling a bit queer,
The back was hurting, Anne Gyna too, oh, dear!
After a few minutes, I felt a little chirpier,
On to the surgery, my walking getting wonkier…
Ten minutes to go, not admitted any earlier,
Did a puzzle, thoughts of the nurse were scarier…

Got in to see the nurse, things got zanier,
She sounded as if she was a little friendlier,
“You’ve not bared your arm like we told yer!
She tore at the jumper, she felt uneasier,
When the bare flesh of my arm teased her!
Her bullying attitude got weaker…
But I was unhappier, a proved wrong nurse…
There is nothing much worse…
Embarrassed, I resisted a curse…
Turning to leave, I ricked Back Pain Brenda!
Although it hurt and was very tender…
I got out without any more verbals; things got rosier!
Off to the Lidl store, I did scamper!

Once in the store, I was happier here…
Food all around me cost no barrier…
Escaping the nurse, was summat to revere,
Food shopping, something I hold dear!
With the Carers costs, I should be austere?
But its food, I gave a silent chanticleer!

Although eating can make me podgier, please,
They had in stock of tomatoes, and garden peas,
I got yoghourt, and other things with these,
But I resisted getting any more Derby cheese…
Strong cheddar and apples together, please!

I got out shopping, what a wheeze!

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

BUSES BACK TO THE FLATS

I caught a 57 bus to Sherwood, and I rather sillily and expensively went into the Wiko store. They had got some 500ml Zoflora Lemon Zing disinfectant back in stock – Well, that did it! I got three bottles, I’m afraid they were £4 each, Ahem!

It is the only disinfectant strong enough for me to use in the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket). I also use it in the event of any Accifauxpas with the bladder or bowel movements. Really worth the extra. If I do have any leaks, the PPs Protection Pants can help, but on the odd occasion, splashes when wee-weeing have been known to spray back and over the carpet or floor. Again this product comes into its own. I leave any clothes soaking in Zoflora and washing soda, or even Citric Acid capsules if I have any in stock, overnight usually, before washing them. A little tip there. Haha!

I got the things bought put away. The Lidl smoked ham off-cuts were far superior to those I had to throw away from the Co-op: they were almost just pork crumbs. And they only had a one-day eat-before date on them. Their beef pasties only had two days of life! I intend to eat those tonight; that was the plan. But I’ve spent so long doing this blog update, it is already gone 01:30hrs! Harrumph!

The Carer came late again, Carole, no not Carole, I’ve forgotten her name now. Tsk! She was not talkative, although it was her last visit. She was so tired but sociable enough without actually proper talking if that makes sense. Still, a can of Gin later, and she was a bit cheerier, bless her. ♥

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

Took these shots of the evening sunset.

Then, I noticed a chap or woman down in the end car park area. To all intents and purposes, it looked like he/she had taken a body out of the back of the vehicle. And was hitting it with a stick. I hope not!

Ah, well, must get summat to eat and my head down.

Self-Angering Whoopsiedangleplop! In Ode

Puggleclumpdimwit!

Even for me, I made a Whoopsiedangleplop an hour ago that turned my stomach – Started Anne Gyna and Duodenal Donald off – and made me so angry with myself…

Inchcock is a Grangnanging Stupid Old Git!

No idea how I did it – but I lost Wednesday’s Ode I’d been working on for about four and a half hours! Nine verses! And, I thought, it was pretty decent… The hour-and-a-half above, I’ve been trying to find it or find out what the hell I’ve done to lose it… Got the Doctor’s in the morning, so have no choice other than to make it again.
I apologise in advance cause the frame of mind I’m in right now is not conducive to Funny Ode creating!
This means staying up late to get the Ode done… I’m not expecting it to have the usual humour or be any good, the mood I’m in, but I’ll try…

Inchcock is a Pathetic, Useless Pillock!

I told the Social Services lady how much I had in the bank,
Of course, they’ve raised the total allowed, but I was frank,
She offered me an hours help with shopping and laundry,
It’d cost me £280 a week… Holy Lordy!
I said no, I was referred to the Revenue & Benefits, thanks!
She asked if I had money in any other banks…

Inchcock is a Pickleglobknob Idiot!

Nottingham Revenue & Benefits man rang me on the phone,
A 2½hr interview followed I was in the ether-world zone,
My concentration dissipated, off it had flown,
I thanked him with a weary groan…

Inchcock is a Dolt!

He said he’d sent the paperwork to sign & return,
Of course, no help was given, I soon did learn…
Result in today, on a downer now, scowled and had a gurn!
Excuse me, to the Porcelain Throne, I’ll have to adjourn…

Inchcock is a Gnatwrangling Turd!

Unhappy at the elision of the actual cost, though,
Still a secret? Why do they not let me know?
They told me how to pay, and punishment if not…
Added fines if you miss a payment that cheered me a lot!

Schluberdubersnarl, Inchcock!

The limit for money, I thought I might be below, but no,
The figure has gone up; this is not good, you know!
The decision didn’t leave a warm afterglow…
I nearly cried; that could have ruined my eyeshadow,
Blimey, I made a funny! And not getting any Sympatico!

Inchcock is a Senile Old Git!

Ah, I’ll be making beef stew for later; my hunger does grow…
Hello, it’s already late, mate… Carer due, Doctors tomorrow,
I’m still angry with myself; there is a self-pitying sorrow,
Life at the moment is annoying, no zest… hollow!
It’s me that is annoying me… that what I’ll have to forego…
The hidden costs of the carers do rise… Oh, blow!

Inchcock is a Senile Old Git!

An ‘orrible Day Again!

Inchcock’s Ode: Talking with my ailments

Inchcock’s Ode: Talking with my ailments

Number One – The Bladder

I begin with Little Inchies Bladder; I think I used all my luck up for the rest of my life around 1989. I got a hernia from lifting the bins at Hero Drinks at Kegworth, went in to have the Hernia Repaired, which they did immediately, putting me in the Men’s Surgery in Ward 19.

When I woke up, and they told me how lucky I had been! And they were right! When they went in with the laser and camera (Yes, I know… how the heck did get all that down Little Inchy you were going to ask, weren’t you? Well, I don’t know, I was blissfully asleep all the way through the operations!) The Consultant carried on; they found cancer in the bladder, which showed up on the mini laser camera, and being as they had all the same tools needed for the hernia, they burnt it out straight away! But my bladder capacity is reduced by 50%. Fair enough, I thought, thank you!

That brought a smile to my face! But the man wouldn’t let me kiss him. Hahaha!

He added that they would remove the catheter and bag from Little Inchy for me in a short while.

An Auxhilary nurse on her own arrived to do it. The poor gal was a bag of nerves and started to pull it out without bleeding it enough first. I asked her to stop and bleed it a bit more… the gal was shaking, bless her.

Above my ward was Prince Charles come in to have his tennis elbow looked at. The staff earlier were disgusted; the hospital had emptied the ward above me. I could hear them moaning about patients being put into a corridor!!! And set two nurses and a Sister on duty, 24/7 for the duration of the Prince’s visit.

Back to the beside:

A sudden, unbelievably loud screech/scream burst out from a nurse. I think, “Look, look, it’s Princess Di coming in!” At this, everyone who could move did so over to the window to look down at Di and her (they told me later) the armed protection officers, as they got her in through a fire door to avoid the press waiting, with cameras at the main front door!

Most unfortunately for me, the young nurse was amongst the Royalists who stampeded to get a view of Lady Di – and pulled the catheter out, catching it with her foot, I assume, as she rushed for her Royal treat!

So, I was with blood spraying up like a fountain, and covering me the bed, clothes and floor… Which the nurse spotted a minute or two later, and she came to me in a panic and crying at what she’d done! Sobbing her heart out, she was! Other staff arrived, the poor young lass couldn’t stop crying, and eventually, things got sorted.

A ranking nurse joined us and started to tear a strip off of the Axhilary nurse; I don’t know why, (Well, I do, I felt terrible for her), but I said; “No, it wasn’t her fault, I turned to see what the fuss was and pulled it out…” I’m sorry I said that now, cause for the next two days, my name was mud with nurses!

The first wee I took with the catheter out, shot forth as if from a fireman’s hose, bounced back from the walls – and I kid you not, left an imprint of my body on the back wall, with blood around it!

I’ve wandered off the plot here, haven’t I?

Sorry, back to the chinwag with the bladder fun…

Inchcock Gerry: Why do you have days when you don’t want to wee-wee, then go bad at it, mate?

Bladder Inchock: Why? It’s obvious, innit? Anyway, I don’t want to confabulate!

Inchcock Gerry: But for two days, you’ve flowed freely, been considerate?

Bladder Inchock: Humph!

Inchcock Gerry: What’s up? I’ve been taking in the extra fluid. Now it must be gallons you hydrate?

Bladder Inchock: That bloody surgeon lasered me; no wonder I can’t concentrate and urinate!

Inchcock Gerry: You should be glad, freed of death! A bit of pain, indeed you can tolerate?

Bladder Inchock: Listen clever-clogs, weeing for me, is variable, strangulate, freeflow, then it may stagnate!

Inchcock Gerry: What? I make sure water does circulate…

Bladder Inchock: I have pain too, do you appreciate?

Inchcock Gerry: Well, I can only speculate!

Bladder Inchock: I send you messages beforehand, admittedly just a few seconds at times, but you also had cancer on my prostate!

Inchcock Gerry: Oh, that’s my fault too, is it? I did ruminate.

Bladder Inchock: I hate talking to a thicko like you – why didn’t you become a graduate?

Inchcock Gerry: Well, I was uneducated and got a job cleaning the sluicegate…

Bladder Inchock: Sod off! You were chasing girls on yer one rollerskate!

Inchcock Gerry: Times were bad back then…

Bladder Inchock: Other people Inchy, have a toilet inside, not going out into the backyard, and having to wait…

Inchcock Gerry: Trust you to be irritable as you postulate…

Bladder Inchock: Ha! So now you accuse me of having irritable bowel syndrome as you orate?

Inchcock Gerry: I’ve no idea what I’m doing talking to a bladder?

Bladder Inchock: You’d better shut up then cause you’re making me madder!

Inchies Frictional, Unfrivolved, Fricking Friday!

Things started pretty well for me, oh, yah!

I got the Halloween hand-outs on display…

For carers, nurses, come who may,

Anyone visiting me from today…

Then got the potatoes, boiled with balsamic vinegar,

And a spot of Worcester sauce, & a pinch of demerara sugar,

They’ll do for later if I remember the bugger,

With the chilli, and put on some more sauce, tartar?

Titivated the kitchenette, dropped a jam jar!

An excellent job that it wasn’t the caviar!

The jar didn’t break, and it missed my feet…

Things were going well, all seemed alreet,

Off to the computer with a mug of tea, took a seat,

I even nibbled some biscuits, wholewheat!

The landline rangeth, the Amazon man, a right pain!

T’was then that my good luck, nosedived again!

We couldn’t understand what each other said,

So I went down to meet and talk to him instead,

His English was better than my Afghanistani,

But he left me, in the lurch, there was no barny…

He abandoned the food with me in the lift foyer, the Git!

I had to get the parcels into the lift, and I wasn’t fit…

Back up to the 12th-floor, struggled to get the bags out,

Then had to get them into the lobby,

Then into the flats lobby,

Then into the flat,

Then the hallway…

Then the kitchen, my energy drained away!

Next, the swearing started, I have to say!

The Git had put bleach in, it leaked, had to throw my bananas away!

The baguette buggered, utter dismay!

Tomatoes crushed, and I was feeling bushed!

Honey yogourts pot fell apart; I was further crushed!

Got the salvaged food sorted,

I was pissed off; I felt like I’d been ambushed!

The cooked ham was crumbs and crushed!!!

I was feeling despondent, to say the least!

Can’t see myself enjoying tonight’s feast!

Got the fodder all sorted… What was eatable anyway!

I was determined to get the treats out today for those who have helped me out over the year. Jenny, Norah and Frank, and Obergruppenfürher Deana and Obersturmbannfuhreress Julie, the ILCs (Indeependent Living Coordinators) at the flats. I rang them both to tell them I’d be coming down later to see if it was alright, as they may have been busy. Recorded messages on both phones that told me they must be busy. So I’ll get the goodies sorted out and go to Jenny then to the office with them.

As I was going out of the door, struggling a little with the walker-trolley, the postman came into the foyer. Oh, dearie me! This sounds like it may be a con-job?

An official-looking brown envelope, a white one, and then he handed me an ‘insufficient postage bill for nearly £11 for something that has been sent to me?

He kindly offered to ask his boss if he could pay for it for me, get the ‘parcel’, and I can refund him, and he’ll bring it in the morning. I was dubious, as I don’t think ~I am expecting anything through the post? Anyway, I thanked him and took him up on his generous offer for me, with a certain feeling of doom.

The white envelope was from Meridian, three A4 pages, about my Christmas needs for carers, Logging-in, Shadowing & Spot Checks, McMillan Charity Ball, On Call Centre procedure, and a Service-User Forum Wednesday 8th December at Foxton Gardens.

I didn’t over concentrate on owt, but the dodgy sounding parcel postage cost thingy. Then thought I’d try ringing the Wardens again, let them know I was coming down to see them and ask if they could have a look at the Social Services letter for me.

Finally, I got back to the walker-trolley of goodies, of off down to Jenny’s. On the way down, I thought to myself… well, I felt sorry for myself, really. Everything suddenly going into panic mode; surely things must calm down now… Hahahahahaha! Crap!

I called at Jenny’s flat, rang the bell and knocked on the door, and returned to the lift.

Down and into the connecting corridor with Winwood Court.

Called at the Wardens Interrogation and Body Search Room and dropped off the nibbles. Dean checked the Attendance forms for me, and I signed them. At last, something was going right – Hey-Ho! Little did I know what Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops still awaited me yet!

Then realised I had not put the prescriptions list in the envelope.

Back up and down in the lift again, and down to Deana.

Gawd, it did! I thanked Deana and hobbled out of the Winwood Court foyer, the first time I’ve been in the fresh air for months now, I think… But it proved to be a hazard ridden journey to the post-box to mail the letter… Just when I stupidly thought things were getting better again…

Unbeknownst to me, the wind was howling out there, and it whipped the envelope and paperwork out of my hand, high up in the sky, swirling around and then seemed to turn back in my direction, falling down in the car park twixt the vehicles. So, if it had blown off again, I would not have seen it again… Semi-panic mode engaged. I pursued the envelope and had to search a bit to find it. Still, the relief when I saw it trapped in between the branches of a bush was welcomed, even more so when I managed to get at it in time before it flew off into the clouds again!

I limped hastily as I could to the mailbox, checked the envelope, and posted it; thank heavens for that. Although, my EQ told me it would not have mattered, because as the voice said: “You ain’t going to get no financial help, any and either way, cocker!” Which was a smidge disheartening, bearing in mind EQ has never been wrong with his forecasts… no, I tell a lie, sorry. He was once, just the one time.

I hobbled back inside and just had to tell Deana what had happened. At least she got to laugh out loud before going home for the weekend, bless her. Hehe!

I set off along the link corridor and got to the connecting door.

Boy, did I feel a fool!

I could feel the key fob in my jacket pocket, but could I find a way in to get it? No! I assumed it had gone through the lining of one of the pouches. Back through link passage and to Deana, thinking she may have some scissors for me to use, to cut through the pocket.

Within a few seconds of investigating the jacket pocket for me, Deana put on a broad grin – that I believe actually said, “What a pillock!” As she pointed out that the sleeveless coat had two pockets on either side, one behind the other!

I blushed, felt the pillock above, thanked her, and scurried away in embarrassment and fast as I could… back, yet again along the corridor.

The hobble back into Woodthorpe was masked by the deep and genuine worry about what the hell am I doing? Since retirement, nothing going right, or even things going wrong, has been a part of my life, but I am not coping so well with things nowadays.

The trip up in the lift left little recollections of anything. I should have guessed that Dizzy Dennis and Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley were about to erupt; the hassle for such a long time nearly always ends in a tumble or similar – this time was no different, I’m afraid; Well, it was actually.

The haze came over me as I began to push the trolley through to the lobby from the cage. I gave myself such a bash on the right shoulder; it knocked me sideways, I clouted my back on the other side of the lift, and I went down, almost in slow motion!

My Luck Changed!

I had no idea who it was, but a bloke came out of the end flats and got me up on my feet again. See, I am fortunate sometimes. I think he knew me cause he guided me back to the flat and helped get the trolley in for me. Not sure what we spoke about, but I think we did have a natter.

I made a brew of Glengettie Gold and sat down doing absolutely nothing, but fretting of course. Nodded off for ten minutes. Woke up in need of a wee-wee and felt so much better, then? Back-Pain-Brenda was the main pain-giver, but you can’t blame her after that little backwards tumble. Hahaha! I made another drink, and took a Cocodamal, then got on with updating this blog. I hadn’t really realised how late it was, although with all the palaver I should have expected it, the Evening Carer arrived.

It was Helen. After she’d done the medications, it was she who told me what a terrible day she’s been having. Bless her! When I related my day so far and showed Helen the photographs (I was still doing the blog updating when she arrived), She did laugh! Which was good cause it might have cheered her up a smidgeon, I hope.

I realised that I could not find the Warfarin card anywhere. Mmm? Mayhaps I dropped it when I collapsed on my rump? I went to check in the elevator cage. Nope!

Summat else to worry about now, Tsk! I got back in the front room and was going to do another search of the multi-pocketed jacket… when… I spotted it on the carpet underneath the computer cabinet.

I pressed on with this blog updating, and woe of woes, I got as far as I heard and realised it was almost midnight! I’d better get something to eat… ah, yes, the chilli and the crushed brochette, or whatever its name is, bread to me.

While doing the cooking, it was complicated for an old chap, like what I am. Some done in the crock-pot, chilli-con-carne on the saucepan on the hob, and wedges in the microwave, and as for all the cleaning up afterwards… Humph! Where was I?

Oh, yes, I took photographicalisations of the night sky.

Part Of The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woes – With Odes Series.

Maintaining One’s Sanity – Not easy you know!

With Thanks To Madge & Margo for the Memories

SANITY

Did I have it in the first place, though?
I started going loopy about 70 years ago,
Long before I attained the shape of a rhino,
My voice then would have been falsetto,
I ate ice cream, long before they made the Cornetto,
I lived in a terraced house, in the Meadows ghetto,
No hot water, inside loo, no electricity until 1952,
Mother was the pushy one, scared me stiff… a virtuoso,
But the police were after her, run away, she had to go,
In winter, ice on every cracked or broken window,
Twelve years of tripping over the warped lino.

Dad said, we need money; I’ve got some jobs for you!
Two paper rounds, a Saturday job, that’s just a few!
After school, I rush home; here’s what I’d do,
Clean and set the fire, and make Dad some stew,
He could be home six o’clock, or a quarter to two,
No time to play, but I did pray for a TV to view!
Never got one, of course, but one was always due,
Not that I had the time anyway, with the cleaning up to do!

Got a job, two guineas a week, got a flat, although…
I got impetigo, got thrown out, so off I had to go…
Playing solo Ludo… it wasn’t terrific, you know!
But I got into digs, full board… and found myself aglow,
The landladies daughters, things unknown to me they did show!
I was proud and macho, every night, with Madge and or Margo…
Showed me the best ways to keep from feeling low!
Lessons that even today, I’m glad I did undergo,
More later, time to take my medications now – Hoho!

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

Part of the Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe In Rhyme series

Impute-Inchy, Friday 5th March 2021, Diary

A Touch of Class, from TFZer Nancy!

22:40hrs: I shot awake, with the thoughts of getting at least some advance templates done: For some reason, it was my day’s commitment, mission and incumbency! A resolution, willpower or even a dedication that has been scarce these last few months. Somehow, and I know not how – I knew I was going to get them done. Equally worrying was that I knew it was not going to be easy!

I even lay there on the recliner a while, planning a different way of setting them up that might save me some time. Fair enough, it didn’t work and cost me even more time… But. the fact that I thought about it, and tried, is the genuinely galvanising part.

But, first things first, a visit to the Porcelain Throne was needed. I manoeuvered my way out of the recliner, bit by bit, with comparative ease as well, caught my balance, and off to the wet room.

Well, this was an unexpected ding-dong of an evacuation. But it made a change. And for some reason or other, I was in a bit of a good mood with things at the time. Yes, it worried me as well! The same as yesterday, things took their time to start, and I got the crossword book out – another improvement here, I got one clue answered. Sad innit? One solution in three days and five Throne sessions! Tsk!

Once the movement began, it was one of the slowest I’ve ever coped with. And with so little evacuating as well. But Constipation Konrad was continuing his comeback, I think. Still, it was far less messy to clean things up afterwards! Mind you, the flaming cistern wasn’t coping with even such a minimal part-wet deposit! Several refills of the tank and many flushes later, I’d got it cleaned up, though!

I took the missed evening medications, and I did the Health Checks. Still, with an absolute determination to get the Templates done, there seemed no wavering on my behalf (Hard to believe, even for me!) I did the body temperature first on the easy-to-use Chinese, made in Hong Kong, contactless thermometer. Best reading for a few days methinks at 37.1°c The Chinese made Boot’s sphygmomanometer proffered the best readings for a while as well! SYS 148, DIA 68, and the PULSE at 88 bpm! The chart is looking like it’s improving somewhat as well. Temperature back in the green at long last!

A made a drink of Glengettie tea. It’s so lovely that the taste-buds are beginning to work again. Dang-nabbed AstraSeneka vaccine side-effects! Grrr!

I dedicated my time to getting the templates done and persisted for many hours before needing another Porcelain Throne visit. It replicated the first trip, but the tank actually took everything evacuated away, with just two flushes! I noted that the wrist alert bans had been trying to strangle me again! Hehe!

I returned to the computer and updated the Thursday blog. Not a lot needed doing. Emailed the link, Pinterested a few snaps, passed wind violently and started coughing something awful, and kept on doing so for a long time? Visited the WordPress Reader section and then onto Facebooking catch-up. I read and replied to the WP comments. A good came in today; that was nice.

Just before eight o’clock (Ten hours of Computing!) I’d got the templates finished! Yee-Haa! But no time for self-praising. For the ablutions had to be done, he would help me with sorting out the newly fire-proofed cupboard if the worker chap returns. And I need to get the waste bags to the chute and medical bottles to the recycling bin downstairs.

As I got into the wet room, I noticed blood on the jumper in the chest area? Hello, what’s this then? I asked myself. Well, you would, wouldn’t you? I discovered a cold or on the lip had caused the problem. Makes a change, Hahaha!

  • I dried up the leak with a kitchen towel.
  • Did teeth, and the split tooth started bleeding, so I had to dry that up, too. Only the one dropsy, mind!
  • Only three dropsies shaving. Two little nicks bled a bit, but nothing serious.
  • The nasal clearing went well, one dropsy!
  • The showering was started. But it became a smidge farcical! There cameth a landline phone call, that at first, I thought was coming for the radio show, ‘The Men from the Ministry’ on Radio Four Extra. By the time I realised this was not the case, and got my cold, coughing body out and to the telephone – it had stopped ringing!
  • Back into the shower, clouting my right shoulder on the door frame. Wich started SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) off, as well as BPB (Back-P{ain-Brenda) too!
  • So, coughing, sneezing, and in pain, I resumed the showering.
  • Repeated dropsies of the shower-gel bottle later, the telephone rang again! Now, I was getting a smidge annoyed!
  • Out of the warm shower, the landline stopped again before I could get to it! Grangleplops!
  • Back yet again to the showering, at least I got around this time without any injuries!
  • But Expuslivications! Only Neopathic Pete launched into one of his adventitious right leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances! A short but brutal flailing performance and I just don’t know how I stayed upright, but I did!
  • I was cold again, coughing, and Cathy Cartilage joined in! Gadzooks, Crockledimdogs! and Gnatwrangles!
  • Guess What? The bloody landline rang again!
  • This time, with the pain, shivering, and in particular, the knee, I didn’t even get all the way out of the wet-room before the phone stopped!

The washed yesterday diabetic bamboo socks had definitely shrunk! Humph! Oh, and the fluid retention seemed to be getting worse today? Am I bovvered? Nope!

I should have been a physical and mental wreck by the time I got out of the wet-room. But, No! All the Accifauxpas, Whoopsidenagleplops and injuries, bad luck, etc. Still, I was singing away to myself as I shivered. The cold sore opened up again, the coughing started one more, and Cathy Cartilage was getting worse by the minute… But was I bothered? No! As I was getting soap powder and handwashing, I pondered why I felt so uncaring, take-it-as-it-comes? An atypical abnormality, even an illusoriness confused, baffled me. But I was not going to let anything to get me down. Why? Something like this would usually get me all hot & bothered, but not today, Josephine?

I simply pressed on with the hand washing and got the heavy long-sleeve jumper, the bamboo socks and pyjamas bottoms all washed, wrung, hung and done! I used Surf Soap powder this time, it smells as good as the liquid one, and things seemed to clean up alright.

Then, I got the waste bags made up, added them to the walker-guide trolley box, and put the recycling glass into a carrier bag to take down outside to the green bin after using the waste chute.

As I got to the door, a much-dreaded letter had been posted, so I investigated. Huh! The Water Rates going up again now! Another integral part of the Government and utilities claw-back campaign to pay for the Covid-19? So, if I remember right, suddenly starting last week, I’ve had notifications of increases in costs for; EE Mobile, Liberty-Global Virgin Media, Internet; the rent and service charges are going up. British Gas has gone through the roof, the Bank has reduced my interest from 3% down to 1.5%, and the free bus service has been removed. I’m sure there is something else that I can’t remember! Yet, even this news of more costs did not get me down??? I wonder if I’ve died and no one has told me?

I struggled but got the walker out of the door and went along the lift foyer to the waste-room.

Aha! A new poster on the side of the lifts. Water Supply Interruption, no sorry, disruption. It’s for Friday 19th 2021, between 08:00hrs > 17:00hrs. I’m assuming it is for March, as the 19th is a Friday?  Onwards I plodded, no longer singing now, to the chute, but I was coughing better… Haha! I got the six bags down the tube and returned and got a lift down the bin outside. It was a little dim and grim in the ground floor lobby?

Down in the elevator and out to the bin. Handed the bottles to caretaker Stephen… Whoops, I mean, Robert!

And back up in the lift. In the lift lobby on my twelfth-floor, I noticed that the Art Deco all at our end of the hall had now been painted over, the same as all the other ones! I’ve put a photo from last week under this mornings, to remind you of the how pretty it was, but not for long.

Do you agree that the patchy art deco was different? It was growing on me each time I saw it, but no longer, now we share a bare baron wall, along with all the other floors. Tsk!

I got in the three flats lobby, Horse-Betting Addicted Malcolm, near lets, Forgetful Josie far left, and demented Inchcock far right.

Got the trolley indoors, and it was getting late for me, and the weariness was dawning. But, I needed to start this diary and get it finished if possible, or mostly anyway.

So, I pressed on, but the zest was dwindling as time passed by.

Blimey, it was suddenly ten to five at night! Boy, oh, boy, that’s about 18 hours I’ve been up and about! As I checked with my watch, I found that whatever is causing it, the wrist bands, soap powder, I don’t know, the Clopidogrel returning, maybe? But the bits of whatever on the arm were bleeding again. Mayhaps the Warfarin has gone too high? That may account for the lip bleeding so badly earlier? Mmm!

I stayed awake long enough to make an order for Morrisons, on Amazon, for tomorrow A.M.

I gave up on computing and got some sarnies made up for the meal. A dagwood imitation on bread thins, with ham and tomatoes, with mini pork pies and chilli chicken and a bit of Marmite cheese.

Apart from the terribly tasteless bread thins, the disappointing Anchor butter, the dry pies, the wet bland chicken, soft tomatoes, the Marmite cheese disc was tasty! Oh, and the lemon yoghourt was curdling a bit. Overall flavour rating, a barely deserved 3⅜/10! Gawd, it was lousy! 

Of course, I settled far too late to watch the Tales of the Unexpected. I put on a Heartbeat DVD, but in my state, I didn’t even get through five minutes of it and drifted off into a terrible (well, there were some good bits) dream-filled, disturbed slumber. I seem to keep waking and remembering bits, some that involved activities I can no longer perform but used to enjoy… then nod off dream again, and wake to ponder over what I’d been dreaming of! For some reason, I did not write anything on the notepad?

Ah, well!