Inchcock: Monday 19th September 2022

POLITICAL CARTOON
♥ A THANK YOU TO THE NHS STAFF ♥
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GC sleepAInchcock woke up this morning at 04:25hrs. No change to usual, he wanted, well needed, a weewee! And as usual, by the time he’d struggled with his balance exercises, he also needed to utilise the Porcelain Throne. He seemed all calm compared to how he was during last night’s series of Accifauxpas. He made his way, on his painful right knee, to the wet room, still half asleep. He woke up a little more as he entered through the door Inchie walked into the door frame that had protesting violently, ensuring he was soon wide awake. He swore a little, gritted his teeth, and nearly spat in disgust at himself and Cataract Katie. Oh, that was in second-person style?

At least the evacuation was a lot easier and mushier, which I expected after taking the Galpharm by mistake for Co-Codamol last night. No bleeding or mess needed to be cleaned up. It took me a while to stop the shaving cuts from bleeding.
And I decided to get the ablutions done while I was in the wet room. Did you see that? I made a decision!
Then got some Phorpain rubbed into , and of course , no painkillers, cause with the problems these last few days, I’ve taken a few extras, and that is not good.
After all, me being a famously handsome, sought after by women, brave, heroic sort of super-stud and intellectual, it would look bad if I couldn’t take a bit of pain.

I came out of the wet room without any further injuries and made a mug of Thompson’s Signature Blend tea.
The sky’s colouration was so different this morning. Yesterday’s deep blues had been replaced with an odd mix of browns and blacks. Still beautiful all the same. Ah, Mother Nature! Now, take note if you please; It was approx’ 06:00hrs when I used the camera to take this delightful morning view.

I did the sphygmomanometerisationing and luckily: very luckily, wrote down the figures to go on the excel record.
And got the computer on to update and copy the graph, as shown here. Then put the figures onto the NHS DVT blood pressure assessment page on the web.

I was back up to the Hypertension 3 again! I did note that it was last Monday, the last time it was so high. I’m not sure if that means anything connected to my dislike of Sundays?
I then realised I had forgotten to take a photo of the monitor and body temperature thermometer. Which, in turn, got me thinking, where is the camera anyway? Ah… in the kitchen, of course, that’s where I took the photo of the morning’s view… obvious, innit? But, No!
I poddled into the kitchenette to get it. After about 15 minutes of failed searching, I was baffled, to say the least.
Dementia Doreen filtered the thought into my brain: “Did you drop the camera when closing the window?
Oh dearie me, surely not? This was enough to reinstate my Sherlockian investigations. But, still no success.
So, the Hallway next. Nope! The junk room. Nope! The airing cupboard? Nope! Well, the dang thing must be somewhere! Hopefully, not 12 storeys down smashed on the pavement!
Back into the computer room, another time-costing ferret around. But nope. if it was there, I could not find it.
So, as of 17:00hrs, as is now, when I finally got around to doing this blog – the Lumix camera’s location remains a mystery. Hence my often used phrase: Such are the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodemons, apparitions, and other grotesqueries that haunt the hallways and lobbies, searching for Inchcock; to curse with bad luck, create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare. worry, scare and confuse me!.
So, no photographs taken… apart from the morning skies one.

I was not feeling too good now and could have done without Herberts banging away. Still, it didn’t last for so long this time.

I got a call on the mobile and was impressed by the clarity of the new ring tone I’d chosen… But, could I find the mobile? Nope! Now my sanity was being questioned – worryingly by me!
Sherlockian Mode adopted again, and I searched for the mobile; it had to be in this room, or I’d never have heard it. That helped, not having to search the whole flat again.
Finding, after a lengthy hunt around, that it was in the coat hanging on the back of the chair I was sitting in at the computer created a smidgeon of ‘Feeling-Stupid’ in me. It was from Jenny, so I rang her back.
She asked if I would like some tomatoes, I thanked her, and she said she’d bring them up later and drop them at the door after ringing the bell. ♥

I’ve come across a single word on one line in the scribble memory pad; it say’s ‘Paper’? I wish I knew what it meant. Tsk!

Jane and Pete posing for me – 2018

Sister Jane called on the landline to see if I was watching the Queen’s funeral. I ended up feeling so guilty when I said no. Two sentences from her stern voice, and I put the TV on to ease my guilt! Hehehe! We had a nice chinwag for a while, but she got a call from hubby Pete, and she rang off.
Being as I’ve not taken any photos for hours and hours, mainly because I can’t without a camera – here is a photo I took earlier of Jane & Pete’s visit, behind the flats. August 2018, I believe.

At long last, I got the Sunday blog updated and as I was saving it ready to do a final grammar check. I got the shakes from i.e., , which are far more damaging than Shaking Shaun, cause they last so much longer each time, particularly when on the computer, as was the case here.
The hand shot the mousse all over the screen. I had no idea what buttons I’d hit, but the whole blog disappeared. No longer in Post listings! I don’t know how I managed to avoid bursting into tears; it was a close thing, though. After trying various things and confirming it was not in the unpublished or published lists, my heart sank. All those lost hours, gone like a puff of smoke! I was out of ideas; surely, if I’d deleted it, WordPress would have asked me for confirmation? I turned off the computer, no longer interested; I was in despair, grief and misery.

Walked into the doorframe, cuts shaving, the camera lost, and now, the blog lost.
As I felt myself sinking into a Dracula Depression, from somewhere deep within, I thought – hang-on mush, did you catch the delete button? So, without much hope, I got the computer back on and checked – There it was in the deleted file! I do believe I gave out a Whoop! Cause started his banging away, he must have heard me?

Thinking what a genius I am, I published the blog hastily and copied the web address to send by email to my multitude of followers, oh, yes, both of them! But: The address came up with ‘3-trashed’ in the title?
I remembered to restore the deleted post, but am not sure if it got through? No likes of messages have come through on it? Depression falls again!

The Evening Carer is due anytime now; I’ll get something to eat then.
Jodie rang and entered. The first thing she said was, “Oh, you’re topless!” I covered my man breasts with my hands, laughed and said, “Oh, sorry!” I put a jacket on straight away. Jodie did the medications, and we had a minute or two of nattering and laughing. I gave her Shepherd’s Pie meal that I forgot to give to Josie, and she seemed pleased with that. She took the waste bag with her on the way out. I locked the door, and I went into the wet room for a quick wash and do the .
: I found the Lumix Camera!!! It was in with the PPs in the bag… How and why I should put it there in the first place; will have to remain a secret with Dementia Doreen forever!

Boy, I was tickled-pink at finding it! Following making a meal, which I rated for Taste-Rating at 6/10. Mushrooms with a drop of liquid smoke and vinegar added while cooking (not bad!), veggie sausages (tasty!), sliced tomatoes (tangy), and some of the terribly tasteless McCain crinkle-cut microwave chips. (I’ll use up what I have left but not get these again). A pot of Del Monte mandarins in orange jelly, it was so bitter, irony-flavoured, my first and last time I try these as well.

.Washed the pots, and for the rest of the night, I kept nipping out to the kitchen to take shots of the sun setting, and I was relatively pleased with some of the shots.

My body and mind told me to get to sleep, and Sweet Morpheus refused the request! But this time, it didn’t matter so much; Being overjoyed but felt stupid for losing it and over the moon at finding the Lumix. I couldn’t stop myself from repeatedly getting up and taking the changing photos of the evening view from the kitchenette window.
Rather, unfortunately, I’d gone into a smug mode over finding the Lumix and taking a few decent shots with it. After taking the last picture, I got a , against the cabinet door corner as I moved away from the window.
Naturally, I just light-heartedly laughed it off… No, no swearing, cursing, spitting, moaning, self-disgust, or growling under my breath.

I spent far too long fling the flat checks tonight. Many things had to be checked several times to convince myself that they were done right; Both sink taps were well checked, numerically. And the oven not being left on checks were done twice. Tsk!

But, Sweet Morpheus denied my dropping off to sleep. Then the Thought Storms arrived, and they were so bad this time. But, a sort of salvation saved me from the anguish, worries and fears: Colin cramps attacked, and this took away my concerns over the Thought Storms – and replaced them with agony! Both hands, left-hand fingers, and the left leg took the brunt of his onslaught. It’s still sore now, nine hours later. The right knee feels a bit delicate too. Haha!

Huh! Who needs sleep?

Inchcock Today: Thursday 4th August 2022

Starting with this Humorous Ode
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Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

Last night I slept early, getting up around 12:40hrs, and got on with the day’s work. I’m nothing if dedicated.
After yesterday’s three false alarms, I was unsure of having a successful mission. However, the evacuation flowed in contact with the plastic throneand kept coming; at one stage, I thought my body might float into the air. Hehe! I’d passed that much. And comfortably, pain-free without any bleeding! A total reversal, I suspect that the different veggie burgers I had for dinner may have played a part in this scenario.

This photo I took of the plates and pins and forgot to put on yesterday’s blog. It could happen to anyone, Ahem! Don’t they look good? This and the excellent BP lately are worrying; I’m not used to this.

I had a wash and sorted out the waste bins. Got a cold drink from the fridge, finished yesterday’s blog, and posted it off to WordPress.

I made up the dry-humoured Ode to use and spent hours trying to sort out whatever I’d done wrong on Corel Draw, which lost me so many options. At one time, I gave up, turned it off, and got out the sphygmomanometer. 
Yet another great set of figures this morning. And I was only just inside the red zone. Amazes me how the BP has been so good this last month.
I tried CorelDraw again, and I lost the saved template. More time lost, searching without much hope… But, I found, retitled it to the original name, and all was well again. I thought

I’ve got a Morrison via Amazon order coming later shortly now. But will Carer Richard come late enough so he can have his Mushroom Pete treat? Will the delivery come in time? – Will they have any in stock? – Will they send crap substitutes? Can I freeze a fresh mushroom pate for Richard to have the following Monday? Did I remember to order some? What day is it?…

The wee-wees have eased off. The rear-end found new life. My legs, ankle ulcer and feet are looking virtually perfect. No Harold Haemorrhoid or Fungal Lesion bleeding. No stubbed toe, walking into anything, & no battle with Sock-Glide-Glenda (I didn’t put any socks on). 

Arrived when and we were both a little down, I think. What bit of chinwagging we got was not the most cheerful. And Richard broke his own record for the fastest visit today. He was soon off in haste, but still the pleasant chap he is.

I turned off the computer to ensure that when the Morrison Amazon delivery arrived, I could be in the kitchen with the door open and hear when the weak, timid, pathetic chime from the intercom was heard. When the intercom chimed out, I was taking the opportunity to titivate the mess on the draining board.
A beautiful young lady came to the door and handed me each bag I put in the hallway. She already had my address, Hehe! Took my date of birth.
I thanked her and set about taking each bag through to the kitchenette. Poor old thing! I know I’m getting old, senile and past it. It shook me that I needed a few minutes to rest after taking the bags through the hallway.
The frozen item was the Meatless Farm Burgers, as well; there’s not much free room in the freezer.
Got what might be the last of pod peas, they are near the end of the season now, and it shows.
The fridge, on the other hand (not that I actually had a fridge on the other hand), had a lot of fodder that had to be jungled and jiggled to make room to get the stuff in there. These included some Strawberries, one for the Wardens, and Carer Valerie’s weekly treat.
Bananas, and my favourite veg seasoning, Oxo. These cubes have a fantastic flavour with them. I got some rice in, as it has already shot up in price, and a lady on the TV last night said to expect a lot more increases.
I put the warden’s weekly flower treat in the hallway; it’s cooler in there and rang to say they could be collected anytime. And if the DVT nurse comes early, I’ll bring them down to the office for them.

I must remember to ask Deana if the lift for the Diabetes session is sorted cause with Nathanial staying late to go over my missed meeting course, I will not know when I will be leaving. So will have to get a tram to Nottingham, a bus to Sherwood, and another bus up to the flats on that Friday. Fingers crossed that the ailments give me a break, which they are doing now… but they’ll be back! Haha!

Minutes after typing the above, the wet warm glow started in the lower regions. Why did I have to open my mouth? At least today, I can patch things up with the invaluable help of the shower before medicating. I always dread this happening when I’m out and about. Pure luck that it doesn’t happen too often… come to think of it, I’m not out usually anyway.

I’ll turn everything off computer-wise now and get the ablutionalisationing done and medicating certain areas in need. Back in a while…

“Lambasting-to-Self: Oh, No, you great fool, the DVT nurse and Deana are coming, aren’t they, dumbo!… I wish you’d get it together… Idiot! You know you can’t hear the telephone, intercom or even the door chime when you’re in the shower… Pillock!”
Dementia Doreen dashes your plans! Did you see that? The vaguest iota of contentment or thought that things might about to be going well, and what happens?

11:10hrs: Checked the tracker on Amazon; 3 stops away; I’d nearly forgotten about this delivery coming as well! Tsk! All that hassle getting the shower repaired, and now I still can’t get a shower! Or much sleep, either.

Took these photographicalisations of magnificent puffer clouds on display. A tremendous deep shade of blue?

11:39hrs: Checked the tracker on Amazon; Still 3 stops away.

Got some chips in the oven, chip sarnies for a snack? Cooked it, took a photo of it (and it didn’t get on the SD card?), ate it (the chip sarnies), and fell asleep.

Zzz!
Amazon Red Leicester delivery arrived. I put them away.
Zzz!
Esther called to see how things were, off on holiday. Wished her all the bestest.
Zzz!
Wardens Dean and Julie arrived. To do the yearly fact updates, we did them, and I mentioned the lift to the Diabetes at Bulwell. The leading man, Nathanial, is staying behind on this session to help me catch up with the one I missed, thanks to Meridian Care lot not letting me know they had failed to arrange a lift for me after saying to me; “We’re sorting it, no need to worry!” Deana phoned the transport people and arranged for a ride for the Friday 12th, 2nd session. I had to join something, and Deana sorted it all for me on the phone. Lovely, ♥! Deana also gave a note with the relevant numbers on it… But can I find it? NO! But I did remember to provide them with their weekly treats, flowers, and strawberries. Searched for hours for the note… maybe she didn’t give me one, or… I’m getting muddled again. I emailed her the list of the meetings and mentioned the mystery note… I am a fool!
Zzz!
. Arrived, I was well deep into sleep again, a rude awakening. Haha! Got the medications sorted out for me. Treated to a choice of plonk/nibbles. Off he went, not taking the waste bags to the chute. Cause I didn’t remind him. However, I had all the waste made from the other deliveries to sort, so I got on with them and took them all to the waste chute.

Cathleen’s Cartilage was playing up after I twisted the knee getting into the chute room. Pain level, only 4/10. Easily bearable.

Onto the computer and sent the list of sessions to Warden Deana. Updated this blog up to here. Then started the template for Fridays.

I nipped into the wet room to check that the shower was not leaking again, and…
Gave myself a good toe stubbing against the dreaded, fearsome Sock-Glide-Glenda. Catching the ankle ulcer at the same time. When I took this photo, later on, the end of the toes of the affected foot was white, and the rest of the foot was glowing red; the leg above was ghostly white?

Just another of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. I just laughed it off, of course.

I got this blog finished. I’ll post it in the morning.

It’s been a busy day. But getting help from Deana, and Ethel checking on how I was going, meant so much to me. Bless ’em! ♥

Inchcock Today: Monday 1st August 2020

I’m sorry that I woke up!
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06:15hrs: I woke; I wouldn’t have bothered if I’d known what was coming to me…
I was partly forced out of the recliner, but the need for the Throne to be used. It went tremendously well, as it happens, but as I stood up to get the ablutions done, I realised there was water near the shower drain. I checked the power-point, and it was off. The showerhead was dripping water too? Flummoxed, I turned on the power, I turned on the shower, a little water dripped, an alarm sounded, and a red light flashed, so I turned everything off.
I’ll have to ring Deans at 09:00hrs and Meridian about the transport that didn’t come for the diabetes course on Friday.

Got the health checks done. SYS 142, DIA 56, Pulse 76, and the body temperature was 34°f.
The wee-wees were far too frequent for my liking, but there you are; Ageing and ailments, you know!
Put the figures into the NHS DVT check site and was pleased to see me barely in the red zone.

Richard arrived. With the kerfuffle of the shower Whoopsies, I’d forgotten to unlock the door. Tsk! The lad listened to my problems and filled in the booklet the Diabetes sent me with my details. He read something of the small printed advice note to me, but my hearing was not good, and he spoke a little quickly. Understandable, as he had another call to do, he did his best to set my mind at ease… but nothing less than getting the diabetes mess and shower repaired would ease my mind. On his way out, a lovely lad, Richard, took the waste bag to the chute.

I started this blog template, and soon it was gone 09:00hrs, and I could call Deana and Meridian for help. I rang Deana; first, the call was diverted. Then called Meridian, who was also redirected to their head office. I didn’t want them involved, so I rang off.

Made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana and tried to ring Natalie again. I did feel a fool – I’d intended to ring Natalie and was chattering away and realised I’d rang Deana! to blame. She resisted laughing and kindly said she would ‘pop in’ later to take a look at the shower. Has a lot to answer for, of course; in my younger days, she was referred to as ‘Going-Potty’, ‘Losing-it’, or Blind Bonkers. Hehehe!

The wee-wees were getting more often, and Little Inches Lesion is getting sore at all the handling he’s having – Please don’t start Bleeding, mate!” I think it could be worse, though. How? At least there is only a tiny bit of, very little .

Another bonus is that the fluid retention in the right leg and foot seems to be lessening this morning. Hobbling about is a lot easier than it was yesterday. Got a bit of colour in the plates as well? Good, or not?
Hello, he’s off again. Thuds, clangs, boings, and the usual tap-tapping concerto from the noise maestro above.

I went into the wet room to see if the floods had decreased. They had, but not by much. The water does not appear clearly in the photographs I took on the left. I must remember to ask the expert in photography if my little Canon camera has any settings I can try when picturing a wet view to see the water more. I must remember.
I took this one earlier when I tried putting the power on, then when the alarms and lights lit, I hastily shut it off. Better safe than sorry.
The amount of water on the floor seemed the same as earlier. I’m not sure the drain works without the power on. Then again, there is so much in life that I’m not sure about nowadays. Mainly due to the stroke and  .

Getting on a bit now; midday coming up. If Deana doesn’t arrive soon to phone for help with the shower, I may have to go without it until tomorrow. The shower is brilliant for cleaning the three daily areas that need doing before medicating. The Little Inches Fungal Lesion, and Harold’s Haemorrhoids.

I made another brew, Glengettie, this time. I espied these two dogs having a sniff around in the bottom field. Their tails did a lot of wagging, Hehe! I was well-pleased with this photo. I zoomed in from the 12th-floor kitchenette window.

Snapped this one of the horizons, seeing as far away as the M1 motorway, just out of view furthest away. Basford, Bulwell, City Hospital, Nottingham Prison, the Romanian slave building, and Sherwood. Within this view, there have been nine murders so far this year. There are flats available here if you’re interested, and over 60? Maybe not, though! The sky was almost cloudless but still beautiful. The clouds increased minutes later.
I tried again to contact Meridian Care (Care? Hehe!) Natalie. I got through and told her that the lift for the Dementia Meeting didn’t arrive. Reply: “Yes, I’ve been swamped and couldn’t get through to them!”  I inquired why I had not been informed. She did apologise, at least. But it’s putting me through a lot of anguish, not knowing! When I explained about my not getting help with phoning and reading, deafness, Dementia, and Cataract’s are making life complicated and busy for me. Natalie asked why the Carers were not helping during the extra hour on Fridays. I knew nothing about this. Again a lack of communication. I thought the charges had gone up steeply. Now I know why. If I want any phoning or reading done, I’m to leave it until Friday each week, with no one available on Saturdays and Sundays. And, the Carers can call at any time from 06:0hrs to 08:40hrs. So how can they phone anyone for me?

Good heavens, it’s bad enough being hard of hearing, having Cataracts, knackering my vision, panic attacks, and Doreen Dementia causing confusion and memory losses.

“How dare they say; “Don’t worry, we’re sorting it”. Naturally, I was so pleased and grateful to hear this. I did stop worrying! – then, not only do they not sort anything but put me in deeper poo with the Diabetic Session transport failure – And not advise me of their let-down? Now, I have got to beg Deana to help me out with the mess and the shower, and it’s gone 13:00hrs, and she has not got to me yet. So, I assume it will be too late to bring attention to the shower today and will have to wait another day at least… Or at best, get a late call which means my already deprived sleep will suffer even more by trying to stay awake; late! It’s not doing my health any good. I am not a happy chappy.

Deana departed, and she is a busy gal. Minutes later, I went to the Porcelain Throne and realised I had not mentioned the flood and shower not working to Deana! So I phoned her and told her. She said she’d call maintenance straight away. So if they do come today, it’s going to be late, and in case they do, I have to stay awake to hear the hardly audible intercom ring when they arrive. If they come tonight, or not, perhaps? I am not a happy chappy. Most likely, it will be in the morrow when they respond. What time is anyone’s guess? I shall remain showerless and stinky, then, I suppose. I am not a happy chappy.

Awaiting the arrival of Meridian’s Natalie, still. If she comes, as she told Deana, she would be doing. Will she be too busy, I think?

Well, I’m going to get some fodder sorted out. Not feeling too bright now, although after Deana’s attention, better than I did earlier. Just maybe some ♫ Food Glorious Food ♫ might help. Nothing fancy, tomatoes and veggie burger should do me. Back in a while… well…
Three wholemeal baps, chips, tomatoes with some ketchup dip, and a lemon mousse dessert.
I put the burgers in the oven, expecting them to be cooked by the time I’d spread the cobs, sliced the tomatoes, and got the plate ready on the tray. Then realised I’d turned the oven on, put the chips (fries) in, but forgot all about the vegan burgers! Idiot, fool, twit, dumbo!

So, ate most of it, scoring 7.2/10 for flavour. Put the food tray down and drifted off into a deep sleep. Until being woken up by ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ from the door chime two hours later. It was Sasha or Sarah… maybe Samantha, but call her Sam. Yes… Sam, I think. Soon got me sorted, slipped her a choice of treats, and did not go with her to lock the door. Why? Well, Deana had not let me know if the maintenance was coming today or tomorrow, or even at all, to mend the shower. So, I have to stay up in case they do call later on tonight.
Christ, he’s banging away upstairs again, at 22:25hrs, now! As inconsiderate scumballs go, he’s got to be one of the most effective! The  Turd!

In other words: Bad Luck Spreading

NOT A LOT OF PEOPLE KNOW THAT: They do now!

Droopy, eye-lidded, tired, and struggling to see, I pressed on with this blog and got it posted off to WordPress. Fighting heroically to stay awake just in case anyone arrives to sort the shower tonight. They didn’t.

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THOUGHTS ON THE LAST CRAP FOUR DAYS…


Could any Monday have gone any klutzier?
Mind you, Fri, Sat & Sunday were no cushier,
To get through these days of such mental torture…
I needed a stout heart, resilience and some tincture!
Let downs, failures, and cock-ups have been friskier!

I just want life to go easier and cushier,
The ears and eyes are worse… as is Doreen Dementia,
I don’t expect to get any healthier or fitter…
But why am I in a state of constant dysphoria?
I expect as I age to feel more poorlier…
Why have I contracted Arithmaphobia and phagomania?

I fear I may have also got habromania…
My brain and memory have both caught ecdemomania!
A Covid outbreak in the flat’s got folks in a fluster,
Anymore Whoopsiedangleplops, and I’ll go dafter,
I hope my insanity is only a temporary squatter.
On the bright side… there must summat for sure…
Ah, yes! I’m bald, so, no need to pay for a coiffeur?
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TTFNski!

Wednesday 27th July 2020

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WEDNESDAY 27th JULY 2022

At around 02:00hrs, I woke for the first time. In need of a wee-wee and got to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) in plenty of time for a change. But it must have been several minutes that I stood there waiting for the PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling) to complete its dribbling mission.
Back to the recliner, and I tried to reattain some sleep. Which, in a way, I repeatedly did. But it seemed like every five minutes, I was back to springing awake with a jump or jerk. Haha! The jerk is likely me.
During one of the sojourns to the grey plastic bucket, I realised how easier the ankle and foot felt. Several more wee-wees were needed, thankfully without the PMAD. So got the cannon, turned on the flash, and took a photo. That ointmentating last night has done me a lot of good!
I gave up on getting more sleep, and I got up around 06:00hrs and got the medical box out. Started. I got the readings and tool the usual photographicalisations of them, but they were not to be found on the camera card later? Nor last night’s nosh, either? A good job I wrote down the numbers; sometimes I don’t, just use the photo I’d taken. Input the results as above right. The BP was up a fair bit, the pulse a smidgeon, and the body temperature once again OK! Made the graph and waddled off into the kitchenette to get the first brew of the day going. I opted for Thompsons’ Punjana with semi-skimmed milk (that’s all I had in!). I saw a mass of smoke coming up from the far distance. In the Basford area, I think. But remembered abbot the card not taking photos. So took out the card to check the lock button, blew into the card holder slot, and reinserted it. Back to the window, and the smoke had got a lot less. I could see the blue lights flashing around the area. I went back to the computer and quickly checked the emails. Oh, dear! 
I found I’d got a J Sainsbury order that I thought was due on Friday. This is going to be fun getting the food in the already packed fridge… but I like a challenge.
Started on the WP comments; well, I got one anyway. And the JS order arrived nice and early.
The driver put the items into the two saved boxes and asked for a bag as well. Seems I got carried away again with the ordering; mind you, it’s good that I now have a lot of spring water in stock. If there is another heat wave, no doubt the panic buying will start again. The man out the stuff in the hallway for me.
Among the items purchased were mixed veg in water and whole free Jersey cow milk. Orange cordials, vegan seasonings, bleach. Tomatoes with basil and something else I can’t make out? More stuff; bananas, fresh pod peas, yellow tomatoes, and fish-free fish sticks. Strawberries and roses for the warden’s weekly treat. I’ll take them down later on to the Wardens holding cells for them.
Two first-time purchasers here; A different brand of burgers and some smokey cheese substitute. I’ll have to ask Richard to read the does & don’ts on the label in the morning. It feels very solid?
Back to the blogging, and just as I started getting somewhere: Smoke & Mirrors Man Mr Fries Liberty-Global, Virgin Media died a death again! More time lost! Still, it may be an integral part of one of his ambidextrousness, chicanery, and self-financial-defence mechanism?

He’s probably convinced his bosses that he is making such a cock-up of running Virgin Media on purpose. If enough of the fog boys are all driving the same f-up of service and ignoring customers and may go bust, take BT, for instance, just as bad. Then the value of those companies will fall, and Liberty-Global can either get more than the $23.3 billion they bought it for and sell it or pick up a few more internet companies for peanuts, and we can ruin them as well… It Doesn’t make sense, does it? But I can see in my minds-eye Fries conning his bosses like this. Smoke & Mirrors are his forte!
I don’t say these things lightly. And it is nothing to do with my being covetous of his manly looks, stubby-chin, masculine body. Nor jealously of his $23m a year salary, bonuses and expense account on top of it all, not to mention the grand back-handers and shares in the company he gets given. Or his gorgeous wife… Where was I?
Started getting a little persistent again. He must have a big order on for some school or church? He reminds me of Harold Shipman without his beard.
Finally got the ode added and finished yesterday’s blog. Doing this one will take ages with such a late start on it?
Put the computer to sleep, and I took the treats down to the Wardens holding cell in Winwood Court. Forgot to take the camera with me. Huh!
Got to the office, and I gave them a choice of plonk, the roses and strawberries, back up to the flat and carried on with this blog.

All I did was turn in the swivel chair to stand up, and an instant loss of balance hit me! Bounced off of the recliner, which was good, cause its well-padded. Rolled and gently plopped onto the floor, hitting my head on the table leg.
Going to turn it all off and sit quietly for a while, then hopefully get summat to eat. Not eating might have encouraged the Dizzy Dennis spell?

Back later. Well, I hope so. Hehehe!
I’m back…

Oddlimost Nosh for Ages…
Tons of pod peas, nothing but the best…
Black & yellow tomatoes with a tasty zest.
No-Fish Fish Sticks, on this plate, the sweetest,
Part-baked batch, the tastiest!
A banana, two pots of desserts,
Well, I was at my hungriest…
I hope it is easy to digest!

Checked on the Plates-of-meat…
The ulcer was looking a bit pink…
Water retention put the feet out of sync,
The bottom of the feet began to plink,
Will that ulcer ever shrink?
Involuntarily passed wind, what a stink!.
Caused the nosh, I think?.
When the carer’s been, I’ll wash and shave at the sink!

Evening Carer called, twas Valerie
Val handed two letters from the box to me,
She sorted the medications professionally,
Thanked her with a punnet of fruit, strawberry,
I felt a fart building, but I didn’t let it free,
Leaving, she took the waste bags to the chute for me!

Letters Investigated…
One letter was from the bank, the TSB…
A leaflet, ‘We are here to help, that’s contradictory,
Nottingham had 23 branches in 2003, now just one, sadly,
And that’s miles away, that’s due for closure shortly…
The other mail, from the Council, telling me…
To go on the internet for a details inventory,
Fill it in to be able to vote next January!

Late Ablutionalisation Session Thoughts In Ode
I look a little like I was growling?
The shower curtain shows its dolphin.
I’m stuck in the flat, not globetrotting,
Passing wind all the time, it needs fumigating,
Little Inchies fungal lesion exsanguinating,
The rear end began erupting…
My mind and concentration ever drifting,
Frequently self-condemning,
Inwardly waffling, bloviating,
Moments of lucidity were thin…
Two stubbed toes… so aggravating!
Moments of pure daydreaming,
Yet I was content, although inwardly waffling…
With the Thoughtstorms bludgeoning…
Battering my brain, but not concerning?
I finished off, the toes still twingeing,
But, no point in my minging or ologoaning…
Hello, can I hear someone phoning?

Watched the Football Match
I was overjoyed that it was won by Germany!
France winning would be Whoopsiedangleploppery,
If England had to face France, possible misery…
England can win a competition final, finally…
Although, it certainly won’t be easy…
The final is played next Sunday,
Huh, guess who’s kicked off; Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley!

That’s yer lot, can’t type in this condition. I’ll post this later.

I’m back: I nearly forgot Sister Jane rang me. The Police Pegasus has been in touch with her as a first-responder on the list. As soon as I heard this, I remembered the form they had sent for me to update my details. Carer Richard never got around to helping me fill it in, and I forgot all about it! What a twit! Jane rang them back and kindly called me back to say she had done it but had forgotten to tell them about the youths who came into the flat at 02:00hrs the other month. We are a pair for forgetting things! Hahaha!

Have a great day!

Carer Richard, Odes & Diary

CARER RICHARD

He goes the extra mile to care for me!

ODES

Richard goes the extra mile in looking after me, you see…

He’s called paramedics to the hospital he dispatched me.

Found me on the floor, lifted me up; and I’m heavy!

He’s reduced the effects of my Whoopsiedangleploppery!

After giving me my medications, if he’s the time, to which I agree…

We sometimes have a bit of mental verbal buffoonery,

Monday, checking the dates on medications, was he…

Richard saw on the stove my pan of Chilli,

He suggested a new way of cooking, which sounded good to me!

Told me with cheese on top, it would be very tasty,

So, I made some that way later and could not disagree,

It tasted better than a well-cooked sosatie.

Ate it, felt sated, down the chair – I’ve not got a settee…

But with my feet up, I settled to watch the footy on ITV…

Half-time, I went to make a brew of Glengettie tea…

Getting the cup and washing up the cutlery…

Oh, dear, the innards suddenly rumbled – but only weakly…

The rear end just started to emit things terribly…

I rushed to the Porcelain Throne in a hurry… but I was too late!

Banged my shoulder on the door frame going in, mate!

What a mess; I was in a right mucky state…

Cleaned things and me up, new aerated PP’s on, to alleviate…

Sad when one has an uncontrollable trip to defecate…

At least the shoulder I didn’t dislocate!

Out and back to the kitchenette for the brew,

And immediately another churning, another release was due!

Back to the Porcelain Throne, I almost flew!

A bigger mess this time, sticky goo!

Good job, I made it in time, I can tell you!

Cleaned and washed, and back on the flaming loo!

After five more Throne visits, each one causing ballyhoo…

Things settled at last; in future, Chilli, I’ll have to eschew!

I’ll have some home-made beef stew,

Oh, no beef, summat else will do…

Ah, the Vegan beefburger tonight; the risks should be few

Hoping there’ll be no trouble with the residue!

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

All fine that night, I woke up feeling refreshed and pert,

This morning as I stood up, the Haemorrhoids hurt,

The borborygmus rumbled, and to the Porcelain Throne I stumbled,

An hour later, I’d passed at least six times… my spirits crumbled…

Each evacuation was a close call, as I rushed and fumbled…

My poor piles were stinging and battered; they itched!

Uh-oh! The last one sneaked out early; I had to ventilate…

It seemed the pong was worse by a hundredfold,

Finally, I got the escapees under control…

That leaves Carer Richard this morning, who needs to be told…

A warning of his recipe given, especially to the thick & old…

That eating it, diarrhorea would be empowered!

Richard arrived, I told him of my Chilli agony, and he was unflustered!

Laughter flowed from the lad, totally unhindered…

No guilt, no shame… Never seen the lad so cheery…

He suggested I get a new nappy!

Hahaha!

Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

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

I’ve never ever seen Richard laugh out loud and so hard! I think his mood was as near to schadenfreude as one can get. Even amid my agonies and Trotsky Terence’s having a hay-day with my innards and the Protection Pant stocks running desperately low…, it cheered me up to have made him so happy and contented. It did as much good as any medications.

With a possible hint of epicaricacy creeping in there… Hahaha!

Last evening’s photographicalisations were, to me, some of the best I’ve managed to take. How the shaking and shuddering (apart from the right shoulder Shuddering Shoulder Shirley) had suddenly dried up was something of a minor miracle? However, as I was closing the windows after taking the pictures, they kicked off again, off course. But a nice two first-time shots? Ah, the rumbling innards have started off again, out of the blue. I made a speedy as I could lunge for the wet room, wary of Trotsky Terence’s grip on the innards. The evacuation was the smallest in days and more than capable of controlling. I remained sat where I was on the Throne and got the crossword book out. I was not going to get caught out like I have been so many times recently by needing another release minutes later. About five minutes later, the second lot came.
I had a shave and shower, and the ankle ulcer in this photo looked like a luminescent inner core? At least it did to my cataracted eyes. But it looked to the eyes as usual? If I remember, I’ll ask the evening carer to have a look. (I forgot to, Tsk!) . The body temperature was acceptable again. That’s several days on the trot, so things look good there. Shaking Shaun caused me to drop the thermometer, but it still works; phew! The Sys was still highish, the DIA lowish, and the Pulse was AOK! Overall, I was tempted to go into Smug-Mode, but I remembered last week… I declined! That was when the SYS went up to 174 for one day, then down to 123?

I had a look at the food situation in the fridge. There seemed plenty to do me over the weekend, and the freezer was pretty full, so I decided no food order was needed until next week! Yes! I made a decision…me! I made one in 1968 as well, you know. Then made another one! I had a long chinwag with the family. Gave each one a mini cuddle and had a few words with each of them. ♥ All donated by e-friends, Lisa, Pattie and Marie; thank and bless them!

I had a walk down to the ground floor, using the lift, of course. And started to have a hobble the length of the three blocks of flats, to come out from Winchester Court and hobble along Chestnut Way back to my beloved Woodthorpe Court… but… An urgent need suddenly needed! So I doubled back and got to the Throne in time to avoid any Accifauxpas or Whoopsiedangleploppery! Which was good!

Washed and got a snap of the end car park taken from the balcony. What happened with this terrible photo? I took it without thinking through the glass; I didn’t open the window. Wot a pillock! So I did a better shot from the other end of the balcony, of the view towards Nottingham City Centre, two miles away. Then got a late nosh sorted out. Veg & pickle balls, with added caramelised onion chutney, tomatoes, chips and my beloved raw, fresh pod peas. I had three little marshmallows for my make-do dessert. I would have had some yoghourt or lemon mousse, but Iceland and Sainsbury’s didn’t have any in stock – Grumph! 

So, there it is! A day of misery, defeatism, joy, laughter and utter confusion- just a typical day for Inchcock! Cheers!

Inchies Local New Snippets with Odes- Part Two

Inchies Local New Snippets Part Two

Here are some terrible crimes being committed,
That will never be lessened or ameliorated,
While issuing laughable, pathetic sentences…
And obviously guilty scum, even get acquitted!
Judges and Parole officers aren’t assassinated.

Prisons are losing many an inmate…
Out on the run, not waiting for their release date…
They’d be freed by the Parolees and only had to wait…
Judges give them ten years… you’ll have to do two, mate…
A policy of being kind, as they kill… I can’t explicate!

Part Two of Nottingham’s Animalistic Crime Snippets
Plus, a rare bit of good news – I hope

I nearly got caught by these scamming swine!
At 03:40hrs the other morning, I was drinking wine…
The mobile phone tune flashed, did opine,
A text message tune. Had someone forgotten the timeline?

To me, this looked all genuine and fine,
With the NHS website on a lower line…
I got back to my alcohol-free wine,
No need to take any ranitidine!

But I fretted over it, oh, this worrying of mine…
Dithering, vacillation and my mental decline…
Carer Richard, fast becoming a mate of mine,
Investigated, found the telephone number online,
Do not use it! It was a Scammers mobile line!
Richard’d saved me from another dwine!

Whoever took this photo is a braver person than me,
Eight men fighting in front of your home are, ayee!
I’d hide behind the curtain, likely needing a wee-wee,
Full marks to the photographer, heroic of thee…

What going on with violence in this country?
I suppose it’s similar in Liverpool and Coventry?
Italy, France, Ireland, America or Germany?
Gangs, some worse than were the Mafia family!.

No peace for the lad’s family. Indeed, there will be no justice in the sentencing if they are found guilty.

Oh, the poor unfortunate little chickadee,
Sentenced to six years in prison… he’ll soon be free…
The Parole Board won’t let him serve more than three,
These overpaid do-gooders really wrangle me!

So are so many paedophiles walking free,
But we can’t cure them, you see?
Why are they let off so easily?
Bent judges? Or full of sympathy?
Do judges and parollers suffer from epicaricacy?

Don’t approach him; he’s dangerous?
Life imprisonment; in an open jail, Jesus!
Why, with such dangerous scum, be generous?
With his record, he’s not likely to be abstemious!
He wants, he takes, violently, certainly not adiaphorous!
He’s cleverer than they thought and stays anonymous…
Till he went on telly, sticking his finger up at us


A letter just arrived from the Doctor,
I know, it was a bit of a shocker…
I thought she’d died; bless her,
It’s been so long since I saw her… November?
I hope she’s not got any sneerier…
I’ve got to make an appointment without failure…

For a Severe Frailty Revue… what can I do?
Cataract ops that’ll make me blind are due?
One on the 15th, then the 18th, not one, but two,
Then the dentists are due around then too…
Dementia Doreen keeps putting me in a screw…
Neuropathy Pete, sending me in a mental stew,
Plans, thoughts, ideas, and intentions are all askew,
Ask for help, they tell me, and that I’d do…
Sounds logical, but to where and who?

——————————————–

Drunken rages; the man needs help, assistance… but he’s, had support before, but he gets more violent, his partner is in desperate need of help, but shows impressive residence and loyalty… why? I don’t know. Likely because she is so scared of the slob? So it’s heartwarming seeing the caring about the victim judge telling him, after issuing the pathetic sentencing, that he will only serve half of the prison term before being released?

Justice is all we want to see?
Something to make the victim worry-free!
I agree that there is no guarantee…
But slaps on the wrist are fiddle de dee…
The justice system has gone all namby-pamby!

——————————————–

The Sun Glasses arrived through the door,
Squashed through the letterbox, Cor!
But unbroken, what is more,
The price tag on them read £15.54!
But I paid £4.94, a bargain for sure…
Plastic tag keeping them closed, or…
I’d try them on, but I can’t open them anymore…
Kathleen’s Cataracts, eyesight so poor,
Now, even so cheap, they’ve lost their allure!

——————————————–

Sad as they come…

——————————————–

Ha, Ha, Ha!

I’m confused?

Well, that’s no surprise!

I’m not saying I was not a bit of a tearaway,
But, I see more crumbling of morals day by day,
Manners, politeness, honesty… all in decay…
Empathy, caring, and understanding float away…

Uneducated, unemployable youths today…
Join gangs for self-protection, they say?
Can’t get a job, to violence they stray…
Yet they’re experts on scamming and eBay?

To a degree, it was the same back in my day?
But we knew when to give way, not like today…
Instead of a one-on-one fistfight, now it’s a machete…
Gun, knife, anything to harm and kill nowadays!

If I asked to tell them to be kinder and pray…
Then I would end up as one of their prey!
They rely on drugs and their illegal distillery,
As they age, those not yet killed move on to spivvery,
Get too old for burglary and robbery…
To become au faux with blackmail and bribery…
Some will start wearing ladies’ hosiery…
And, if there’s any justice, catch leprosy!

NEMO MORTALIUM OMNIBUS HORIS SAPIT

Inchcock Today: Ode & Diary – Saturday 15 May 2022

Approached creating this ode quite guiltily…
My ideas for it were whimsical, bonkers, delusionary…
I pressed on all the same, but involuntarily…
For Alto-Inchy was taking the piss at me,
If it comes out passable, I’ll have to be lucky…
So, I hope to avoid getting any vilipendency!
Will it get boos? Or be received gladly?
Here I go… I’ll have to wait and see…

Last night’s Porcelain Throne visit showed sanguinolency,
I had to clean things quickly, with no time to dilly-dally.
Cleaned, medicated the fungal lesion, piles, cuts, that’s three…
Pain, medicating the lesion send me cranky,
And Harold’s Haemorrhoids too, it took me a while,
Good job that I’ve got many a mans-nappie!

It’s Alto Inchie writing this verse; Inchcock did insist!
But, things got nasty for Inchy, the lyricist…
Stubbed his toe and started to update his word list…
He spent many hours on it, needed a wee, but had to desist…
Went to hit the save icon, and I missed…
Lost the file, and he sank to his saddest…
He almost cried; it must have been hard to resist…
Then he sank further and got depressed!

I lost six hours trying to get back my lost writing…
Couldn’t find it; I was confused, lost and dithering,
My previous determination started withering…
Duodenal Donald kicked off; it was appalling,
The whole incident was depressing and galling!
I believe that I was so low, beyond consoling…
I wondered, what’s the next thing that’ll need bungling?

Alto Again: It was sad to see Inchy being nigglier,
His computer works are getting much messier…
He didn’t look well. He seemed to me pastier…
The outlook for him to finish this ode is murkier,
And even he’s not usually a shirker, but a worker…
I can see in his eyes that he’s getting lower…
No point in talking to him until he feels betterer,
Hello, his door chimes rang out, in came a Carer…
He turned sourly around to see who it was, looking peakier,
His face lit up, his smile radiated, for it was Carer Sarah!
I could tell that he’d immediately got feeling friskier!

It was Carer Sarah who came to do me today,
This cheered me up, I have to say…
I lost all signs of acting acidulously…
Lovely gal, pretty and chatty,
I began to feel once again, altruistically,
I hope she comes again on Sunday!

Alto: Inchie knackered his computer and got in a shaking panic,
The idiot’s actions and bungled repairs were catastrophic,
He had trouble concentrating and was mnemic…
His moods all day were somewhat chameleonic.
Inchcock’s plans and thoughts were all semantic…
Yet he seemed to be taking it all phlegmatic…
In fact, he ended up feeling somewhat apathetic?
Then he found his legs had gone all phlebitic!
This is why some folks, quite rightly, consider him pilgarlic!.

Diary Saturday 14th May 2022

05:00hrs: I woke up with my bum half off of the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner. The right leg on the floor, the left one on the arm of the recliner? A position that I could not physically get into on my own, even if someone offered me a million pounds to do it? Painfully I got my bum back up on the cushion, then tackled the left leg retrieval task! Have you seen that programme on the telly Truck Hell, where they have to retrieve HGVs after a crash? That’s like the task I had on.

I got it freed and the foot down on terra firma. Hehehe! It took me half an hour to achieve it.

Then, I noticed the right leg only had suffered a vein explosion. The first photo is of the front of the leg. I had a good look at it. There were no pains from the veins. Then I wondered about the back of the right leg. Got the Canon camera again and took a blind picture.

Aha, more veins showing through? On a closer look at the photograph, later on, it looked to me that last time, the surgeon who did them had left his name tattooed on the leg? Hehe! I’ll put this one on more prominent than usual to see what you think. It’s on the top right of the picture. Wonder what it is?

Ah, well, better get up; the Carer may be calling soon… and…

As I stood up to catch my balance, I knocked the camera off of the ottoman. I went into the bathroom to ready things for the ablutioning later on, and took this snap of the new marks on the face, this time! Then tried to take another snapshot of the morning view, but the camera didn’t have it. Sob!

It seemed to take the photo, but nothing was getting put on the SD card to view, other than this one and the legs? Miffed off, now! Another blog without many pictures, Humph!

I made up some waste bags, mashed a brew and got on the computer. And the morning carer appeared without ringing the buzzer and made me jump. Haha! Carer Sara was a pretty young thing, and she was sociable. ♥

On with the blog. I finished the update two hours later and posted it on Facebook. Went on Facebooking. Then the WP Reader, and comment reading and replying to.

The usual for the weekend. An increase in Herbert’s noise level. On and off all day, at times, I thought he must have hurt himself with the clanging and banging. At times, I could hurt him myself!

Got on with the Ode template for Saturday’s blog. But a disaster befell me…

I used two pages of saved words on Notepad and got on with selected suitable or better options. And the Peripheral Pete’s Neurotransmitters failed, as Shuddering Shoulder Shirley kicked in simultaneously. There was controlling my movements at all.

The arm shot across the keyboard with the left clicker pressed firmly down, hitting various keys as it went to my left, knocked the SD reader flying as the connector broke off, and it was all over in seconds, but it did a lot of damage, and worst of all, I lost all my words in the two files!

I then spent the following hours of the day trying to understand what the warning messages that came up meant and trying everything within my limited knowledge to find the missing files. No such luck! Photos not going on again.

Made a large meal and ate it all. Wee-wee. Carer Valerie called. Head down, but foolishly tried to watch a Dirty Harry film on the box… I did, in a way, but in about 25 episodes, I watched one each time I woke up and nodded off again!

Cheers!

Inchcock v Alto – The Suicide Discussion

“Oi, pay attention, Inchcock; it’s your devoted, friendly, happy-go-lucky Alto-Ego here. Bringing you news and a…

Eh, erum… Oh, Sod-Off!

That’s nice, innit! I’ve come to warn you of the explosions in the gut, and all yer do is get antisocial wiv me?

Well, that’s cause I’m sitting here on the Porcelain Throne for the ninth time today, coping with the eruptions mentioned above in my stomach! You’re a little late in telling me…

Don’t get nasty turd-face, no need for insults! Anyway, if you want to nit-pick, I said explosion, not eruption, so there! Haha! I got here as fast as I could…

For an Alto who claims to have been in existence for thousands of years, you are very childish at times, mate… What were you doing in the guts anyway?

Obvious innit?

No!

Why do they keep sending me to thicko-idiots to threaten and get depressed? If yer must know, I was checking yer body for any new signs of ailment, injuries or the likes…

What for… No, no, don’t tell me… It’s so you can worry, annoy and depress me, innit?

Oh, yes, clever clogs! An’ I did it too! See? Your Blood Pressure has shot up, spittle is building in yer throat, and you’re in agony with trots… I bet Haemorrhoid Harold is bleeding as well?

Yea, putting it that way, you’re nearly right...

Owd on… nearly right? How am I not spot-on then, freckle-balls?

It proved yer lied when you first disturbed me.

You coffin-seeker! Lied, ruggish! Everyfing I say is John-Bull and Cosher!…

Yer? Like, “It’s your devoted, friendly, happy-go-lucky Alto-Ego here? Devoted, friendly, you? You are an unwanted blight on me mentality!

Well, thank you very much; I appreciate that. It proves that I’m doing my job successfully and adequately: “Assure at all times that your client is DFF; Depressed, Frustrated, in Pain. For extra Alto points, you human having suicidal tendencies a minimum of once a day…” “Achieving an 80% success rate is required” – Now that’s in the Alto-Ego job description!

So?

I proved I have the credentials for promotion…

How can you get a promotion when I’m yours, and you are mine? What did you call it? Client or human? You’ve already said you’re stuck with me, so what kind of promotion can you get clever clogs?

Gawd, you’re thick as a pancake with hebetude! When you kick the bucket, snuff it, I might be moved on to a politician, bank director or even Putin. Then…

Putin?

Yer that’d be cushty. We had a bit of a drawback with Putin, never been known before, but his Alto-Ego went mad. He’s had to be delisted. No doubt he’ll be moved to some war immigrant in another country. Putin with me by his side could rule the planet… not that it’s got much time left, mind you…

 Has it not? I expected as much...

Crap! You’re too thick to work owt out, Inchcock; you’ve been reading Billum’s blog, ain’t yer…

Well, yes, and he’s dead right...

You’ll be the dead one, Fungle-Knob: although I’ve not worked out the best way to nobble yer yet. I’ve thought about getting into Putin’s brain; just think of it…

Hang on, I’m getting confused here…

Nothing new there, dog-breath…

Can we start again?

Oh, so now yer want to converse with me? You want to make your feeble, befuddled mini-mind up! Dumbo!

You said you can’t hurt your human?

Oh yer, right, but only physically, now mentally, is another matter. And being as you are already halfway to being bonkers, discussions like these will soon tip you over the edge, and hey-presto, you’ll be dead, and I can put my bid in to be sent to Mr Putin, see… easy!

How are you planning to top me then?

I’m glad yer asked me brain-dead. I see there are three possible options.

One: You’ll get a heart attack from hearing the truth from me…

Two: You’ll do the decent thing and swig a litre of chlorinated bleach and drink it with ten Beta-blockers, Warfarins, and a good swig of liquid Codeine. I know they are regulated, but if you can time it for when you just get the prescriptions delivered, I advise you to take the whole packet of Morphine sulfate to be safe. Then stick all the remaining Enoxaparin Injections into your belly. (Not that it will matter where now). Then open the balcony window, make sure no one is below… No, no! Better not dive out of the window; with your eyesight, there may be someone on the pavement to crush when you land, and that’s not fair. Just stick with the bleach, medications and injections; they should do the job efficiently.

Three: you will have one of your tumbles when the neurotransmitter nerve-ends fail, and you fall forwards, trip over yer walking stick on the way down, and crack yer head a good belt on the sharp corner of the end counter… you’ll basically bleed to death, and be found the following day by a Carer, who after clearing out any valuables, will call the paramedics, but you be declared dead in your kitchenette floor, probably around 08:33hrs tomorrow. Oddly enough, your prescription delivery day, Hehehe! Well, you asked, you gormless dunderhead, Hahaha!

Thanks, I did ask, didn’t I? Well, that’s honest enough, Alto. Although I’m a little concerned at your going into great detail on option two? Suicide. It sounds to me like this is your favoured route to my demise?

Well, it’s the least bother for me, and I can shoot off and go Putin-hunting straight away. I’ll make my report first, of course. Should you plump for committing Hari-Kari, I promise I’ll make a good praising report of you and your actions to the Alto-Ego Controller. They don’t get many of those; I think Florence Nightingale was the last human to get one. You could live in fame in your death, mate!

I could live in fame in my death?’ Somehow, that doesn’t sound very attractive to me at the moment…

Ah, that’s cause you are temporarily not frustrated or depressed. That’s thanks to me, see. Bringing good news and advice to you again… Giving you thoughts that grabbed your attention and shooed away destructive emotions. I really hope you go for the choice to autodarwinate. It makes the most sense all around…

 Maybe for you, but not for me…

Whyever not, Numbskull? I’m sure you are going to say that Altos can’t die, so have no idea what it’s like?

  No, but that’s a good point; what’s your answer to your own question then?

Oh, dearie me, my ugly duckling. Is it not so obvious what I was referring to? I shall miss you your ignorance, unknowingness, innocence, duality, absent-mindedness, scepticism, ambivalence, and lack of sophistication when I’ve moved on… thankfully!

No!

Oh, you dense creature! What power I have given you…

Wot power ‘ave you given me?

How many people have the knowledge of when they are going to die?

How do I know? You’re bamboozling me again…

No, Knuckle-Mouth! I’m empowering you. You can pick your timing to take the suicide route, lock the door to prevent any interruptions, and just resign yourself to the nothingness that will follow, a certainty within minutes… minutes of pain, yes. Still, you will be well prepared for that, having led a pain-ridden emotional and physical life, so what does a couple of minutes of further pain mean to you? Nothing! No ailments, no food orders to get wrong, substituted items, nothing to forget or learn, no crime, no emotional topsy-turvy; a state of utter bliss is death! Which is where you will be going, mate – into nothingness – no noisy neighbour above you, no rent, tax or fuel prices rising to fret over.

Inchcock & Alto-Ego, launch into Q&A Odeing Mode…

  You keep harking back to suicide.

That is for you, my Button-Willy, to decide!

But will life never be indemnified?

Not until your death is verified!

Suicide? All my hopes will be pulverised,

Which is better than being lobotomised!

My friends will miss me, far and wide…

Friends, you? Now your telling porky-pies!

This conversation is like Morecome and Wise!

Death can be a pleasure, do you realise?

I’m not so sure… it’s a sacrifice?

In death, there’ll be no one who vilifies?

My ailment, all gone, pain defies…

Freedom, nothing left to visualise!

So, Covid has gone; no need to immunise?

You must get your thoughts strategised!

The thought of nothing does tantalise…

Alto sensed Inchcocks resistance to suicide weakening…

That’s the spirit, Inchcock, my old fruit…

Hold a minute, just wait...

Indeed, my old cocker, you take your time…

Take me time? What in or at?

Choosing which way to die…

I’m not sure how we got into discussing suicide?

Well, you wanted to know the best way to do it.

I did?

Yes, plan B you went for…

Plan B?

Yes, you decided you’ll do the decent thing and swig a litre of chlorinated bleach and drink it with ten Beta-blockers, Warfarins, and a good swig of liquid Codeine. (I know they are regulated, but if you can time it for when you just get the prescriptions delivered, you to take the whole packet of Morphine sulfate to be safe.) Then stick all the remaining Enoxaparin Injections into your belly.

Are you sure I chose this way and agreed?

Course you did Snot-Head, and it makes common sense, my friend! And once you’ve succeeded in suiciding, there’ll be no more painful battles with Trotsky Terence or Constipation Konrad! Now, this must be worth topping yourself for?

You really thought I was going to do it, didn’t you?

Well, yes! Are you not going to?

Too bloody true I ain’t going to.

Gragnangles! But I’ll be back!

Inchcock on the Throne realised Alto had truly flit…
He finished his evacuation, messy, but just a bit,
Pondered over suicide, blaming Alt-Inchie, the shit!
Putting it into my mind, a disgusting gambit!

All a part of Alto & Inchies’ mutual brinksmanship…
A strange sort of unwanted mental partnership,
Full of insults, bullying and unsportsmanship,
Alto’s getting nasty, pretending to be a prophet?

If he expects Gerry to top himself, there’s a blip…
Even suggesting it shows Alto’s unsportsmanship,
Suicide? No, he’d instead favour the opposite,
Even living with ailments and a financial deficit!

More critical now, Harold’s Haemorrhoids do bleed,
He cleans things, ointmentates, & takes some hempseed,
It’ll be painful; he mustn’t hesitate and proceed…
Agonisingly he did, then he wee-wee’d…

He turned his attention to what to self-feed,
From his fridge and freezer, he took a swede…
Leeks, mushrooms, tomatoes and bread, just a snead,
Prepped and got them cooking; it smelt good indeed.

Off to the wet room. where he passed wind and pee’d,
Settled in his recliner, he nodded off; he was so pleased,
Woke two hours later, surprised yet frustrated…
At the smell of burnt food, he recognised!

All his vegetables had been pureed!
Burnt potatoes, uneatable, he had to concede…
A Whoopsiedangleplop, he just didn’t need…
He cleaned the mess to the bucket he pee’d!

The meal he ate for dinner was not one of his best…
A can of peas, an out-of-date vegetarian duck breast,
The whole meal went in the bin, top join the rest…
Which annoyed him, and he began to get stressed!

Thought-Storms stopped him from getting to sleep…
His life, he began to despise and threap…
Suicide? Not a failure living, even in this muckheap…
His life is not good, but living he wants to keep,

Though he passes evacuations, the liquid then concrete…
Has cataracts, is deaf, tumbles over, and has terrible feet…
There are times when he finds life semi-sweet,
Screw Alto; his life is not yet over or complete!

He vows to ignore Alto-Ego, on his next visit…
Alto’s intrusions, he’ll try his best to prohibit…
He belched; the extruding wind tasted like horseshit,
Inchcock pondered, is it me or Alto, that’s the eejit?

Dizzy Dennis called; his head felt as if it was in orbit…
Thoughts coming so fast, he can’t cope, dagnabit!
He thinks this is becoming a nightly habit…
And he had Alto to return, the nasty dipshit!

But this time, Inchcock was determined, not frit…
He decided to keep up his flagging spirit…
Amidst words like Grongletits and Gawdammit!
He got up and this Ode he writ…
Hoping Alto stays in his pit!

Part of Inchcocks Make Them Laugh Series

Inchcocks Photographicalisations, Ode & Diary

Photographicalisations & Diary

♫Fings ain’t wot they used to be…♫

Little did I know the above-written ode would turn out!
I’m worried now; I think I had a memory blank or blackout?
Mistakes n everything I tried to create… a mental wipe-out!
It took me all day to get the blog done, a mind whirlabout…
Problems lasted hours… in fact all day, or thereabout?
Couldn’t get to grips with the day, time, everything, a doubt?
I had to keep stopping when the brain went on a gadabout…

Cataracts and glaucoma made things worse…
The noisy, clang-banging Herbert above made me curse…
Went to the Porcelain Throne; the evacuation was vicious,
Rock-solid: it took me half an hour; this is not fictitious!
It felt about the same size as a trolleybus!
One aspect was not painful or scary; quite the reverse…
Painful, yes, but no bleeding from the rear end, thus…
Washed and did the Germoloid creaming. Oh, that soothes!

From Grammarly, mistakes of all sorts, I was being told,
But I pressed on, which I thought was rather bold…
Dizzy Dennis joined me; Herberts’ noises could still be heard,
Why do I feel so bad could still not be answered,

So what I’m waffling on about…
I did my best, but without any doubt…
Faults mistakes you’ll quickly pick out…
Dates and times mostly, serious and nowt…
From start to finish, throughout…
I suppose this Ode is a criticism redoubt!

I can’t really put a date as such,
The photos, taken over 2½ days,
It may be mixed up datewise in a rush…
To get this blog done… with my mind in a haze,
I dun me bestest, please don’t underpraise…

I’m depressed and in pain, in many ways,
I really have had much betterer days and praise…
The coming of tomorrow and better days,
I’m hoping the confusion doesn’t overstay…
And depression finally breaks away!

Forgive any duplicated photos put in,
With wrong dates & times, I know it’s a sin!
The ailments are bothering me out and within,
My hopes for improvement are relatively thin…
Good job that I don’t drink, or I’d have a gin!.

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

Photographs & minimal Memories

By Jimminee, and jolly good heavens above, what an absolute improvement on yesterday’s sphygmomanometerisationing for the level of blood pressure! Comparing it to Thursdays, nerve-wracking 285 Sys!

It tumbled down to 148, and very welcome it was to see it!

The pulse had dropped as well.

 

Another good result from the thermometer.

It was a dead-on target at 35°c.

I think I was; I had a losing battle against Sock-Glide Glenda again in the wet room. SGG 3 – Inchie 0! It all happened so quickly. Having completed getting the socks on, I was, with only one tiny bruise on the foot, and as I stepped over the frame to grip Glenda to remove her… And seconds later, I was on the deck, entangled in her framework! With a bruise that anyone would be proud of on my shoulder. But then…

Getting up back to my feet (bear in mind I had not got any glasses on at the time). I lunged at the grab-rail to assist my getting up… and missed it entirely! I then had a new bruise to add to the shoulder and wrist ones on my flabby belly as I went back down again and made a painful connection with Sock-Glide-Glenda… again! A few scratches as well, but they are pretty. The Carer said so when she came. She was well impressed with the shoulder bruise. But her favourite was the blotch come bruise on my left man-breast nipple; she was very keen on the pinkness and swelling. Hahaha!

The Iceland food arrived. I’m sure I’ve put all these on before, but it won’t hurt for anyone who may order beef chunks from Iceland to see the photographs of the three packs I bought again. They were all within the sell-by date, too!

On Special offer, I just looked at this close up of the red and khaki coloured lumps they’d sent! It was the same or similar colouring? It reminded me of the only time I’ve seen horsemeat served.

The JS Sainsbury delivery. In the centre of this picture, on the right, you’ll see three tiny sourdough cobs that cost more than the milk roll bread. Talk about hard! Gawd, blimey, they were 80% crust. Did my teeth no good. But I ate what I could salvage from the concrete balls of sourdough later on? 

The ‘Best’ potatoes all had growths of bruises on them.

Can’t recall what night I made this meal. But I can remember enjoying it pretty well. The fishcakes with peas in them were tasty enough, the potato waffles were terrible, as were the fish fingers, all vegetarian. The tomatoes tasted excellent, cake and banana, but the vegan cakes cost more money. The potatoes and peas were disappointing. Taste Rating: 6.5/10.

I think I’ve shown this photo, but I am not sure. Sourdough bread, the Polish style one, mushroom pate and tomatoes, a soft imitation cheese portion, were almost as bad as the cakes. But that bread and pate. Was gorgeous.

.

Mike Fries: A good looking, Mafia-type, $23 million wage earner – no, I’ll take that back, he is not an earner to me.
But, I admire his cunningness in convincing his paymasters at Liberty-Global, to pay out $15 billion to buy out Mr Branson’s Virgin Media. Then instructing the UK telecom call-centre team, never to mention Liberty-Global to any customers? Thus, Mike Fries cannot get his $15b internet service to run for a day without going down several times – and Richard Branson gets all the name-calling and abuse. (He’s clever, you know!)

I imagine that if any proletariat call-centre person was caught mentioning the name Liberty-Global to any poor Virgin Media customers… The least they would come away with would be getting knee-capped & sacked?

He’s a Smoke & Mirrors expert. A figure-conjurer of the highest order. The bosses at the top get the complete treatment from his financial sleight of hand and legerdemain skills. They likely actually are being convinced by Fries of the competency of Virgin Media? Which, of course, does not exist.

There’ll be some financial hocus-pocus going on that convinces the top dogs of his profit-making for them, even if only on paper, so’s to speak. It’ll be out of my league!

I believe his flimflam, hanky-panky, and double-dealings will never be caught. So effective are his smoke & mirrors techniques.

This is a shame because despite wishing him a slow, excruciatingly painful death for his cheating ways and knackering me up every day with his Virgin internet repeatedly failing.

I like his style.

I’m jealous probably. Hahaha!

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

Evening Carer’s just called. Another new gal, pleasant enough with me. I insisted she had some treats, a nibble and a drinkie for putting up with my constant moaning about life. Hehehe!

It’s late now; I’m ready for summat to eat and a kip. I’ve got some spuds baking, pod plead in the saucepan, and a veggie pastie to add to the potatoes if I don’t fall to sleep first. I’ll try to get this finished in the morning.

I’d like to stay awake long enough to get some sunset shots. If Colin Cramps visits again when I get down, I should at least get the sunset photo’d if no sleep. Har-Har!

As I was going to have a check on the fodder cooking, I heard a clattering noise from the room I’d just left. I went back to investigate…

The new giant faux-fur brown throw had somehow or other, slid off of the £300, c1968, second-hand, decrepit, rickety recliner, taking to the floor with it: my Wood-Waking-Stick-Walter, Picker-Upperer-Percival, Shoe-Horn-Horis,  a towel, two pairs of trousers, a pot of Cheeselets, two bottles of spring water, and two cushions! Harrumph!

I got things sorted things out again. And then went back to the kitchen to get the meal prepped and served up. No sunset as such, but the view was eerily misty, enough for me to take a snap.

photographicalisation. Served up the fodder. Two veggie pasties, two potatoes baked, halved and plant butter added. fresh garden peas and tomatoes. A banana and pot of dessert. Taste Rating: 7.8/10.

I got sorted and down to try and stay awake long enough to watch my first episode of Grimm. It started at 22:00hrs, which is too late for me normally. I remember checking the schedule, and it was 15 minutes before Grimm started on the same channel… and thinking at last I’ll get to watch it… Of course, Sweet Morpheus got me, and off to kip, I went before seeing the program start!

I woke a few hours later, a selling channel was on then. I rose for a wee-wee and needed the Porcelain Throne as I was on my way to the wet room.

Rock-solid again! A good hour I was in there, going through pain and having to make it worse by giving my best supportive efforts to constantly edge the concrete torpedo out from the rear end. Gawd it felt good afterwards, though!

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit