The VAT Fiddle! Ode & Cartoons

It took seven years, to get sorted. How can the morons expect me to be in debt for VAT, with about 0.6% VATables of the total sales of £900 weekly, and demand £19k from me… well!

Gits!

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I woke with a new papule!

So, here are a few photos I managed to take miraculously… Boring noshes, one taken today… after which the Lumix decided to not let me take anymore, just when I was almost getting excited and thinking I’d cracked it! Frustration grows! What have I done it?

Sunday – Josies Nosh

Incidentally, after serving up Josie’s and eating my own lunch, I suddenly felt so tired. I was feeling fine before this. Then had a mind-blank and was incapable of doing virtually anything. Didn’t touch the computer for about 15 hours! Until this morning. Mind you, I woke up feeling back to normal. But decided I had to get to see the Doctor! And waited until Richard came in, hours late. He’d got in a pickle that delayed him. But the lad was really looking worn out and so tired, he did not offer to ring the surgery. He just wanted sleep, something the lad had problems with without having to do a 16hr shift. He’s done his best and asked their head office to ring me or let me know he’d be late.

 Bit of cock-up there on my behalf. I did get a phone call but thought it was the spammer man, he had the same Asian accent, and I thought he said he was ringing from Virgin, so rang off! Oh, dear, it must have been Meridian, he said! I felt terrible about that. But it’s no wonder I want someone to phone the surgery, is it? So when Richard had gone, I rang Deana. Explained the problem with last Friday’s mind-blank when I was at Bulwell and another today. Also quickly mentioned the cataract getting worse, as was the hearing. Also, I reminded her that she failed to turn up Friday. Poor gal was ultra-busy, s I expected from the tone of her voice on Freitag. Bless her, she only asked ME – to phone and remind her in the morning! Me! For her to call and ring the surgery for me. Hahaha! Worra life, innit? It never gets any easier. Oh, the photos…

My nosh, before the funny turn.

Jelly and once cream for afters. By gum, I’m gourmet… is that the right word to use?

Today’s lone photo! Of the CorelDraw screen, This was taken five minutes before CorelDraw crashed yet again! Humph! Mind-blanks, Little Inchies Fungal Lesion Bleeding, Cataract Cathy making things hard work, and a devil of a lob to get any help getting things done… that made me think. What am I having for a nosh? I wish I’d bought more of the roast vegetable cottage pie meals now. They were excellent tasting.

No stopping me I ordered some more from Morrison’s via Amazon. If I go on like this, it’ll be a struggle to pay the Carer’s costs. I blame Dementia Doreen, personally. I hate her and Cataract Cathy. Gragknagles! I know what I’ll have. I’ve two vegetable burgers left that I could not see the use-by date of. Richard looked this morning, and I think he said a day left on it, that and some sliced potatoes, mayhap?

Took me hours to get this blog done, but I did enjoy it, apart from CorelDraw letting me down again. Each time does that, it’s another half hour finding out where I saved the last one, then save the new rescued one in the same name.

I shall now start cooking the meal. Done that. Now to get this finished, titivated and posted.

Evening All!

Whoops, forgot the funnies. Here they are…

Accountants (Abdul) Joke.

TTFNski!

Inchcock’s Thought Storms

Introduction

His odes, in many ways, are like a zit…

An unwanted ailment, you have to squash it…

Full of pus, staph bacteria, that hurts a bit,

Lost words, replaced with whatchamacallits,

Rhyming is so bad that it can ruin friendships,

Dementia Doreen causing so many errors and blips,

Inchy’s not educated, so he struggles at penmanship…

Now lost his logicality, of which he once had a firm grip!

He dreams of his brain being men mended, maybe, reequipped.

Mental power, dreams, and memory have to the ether slipped…

He tries to battle against Doreen, for long he has schlepped…

But is losing the battle; thus, he is about ready for his crypt.

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His odes, in many ways, are like a zit; yes, I meant zit,

An unwanted ailment, you have to squash it…

Full of pus, staph bacteria, that hurts a bit,

Lost words, replaced with whatchamacallits,

Rhyming is so bad that it can ruin friendships,

Dementia Doreen causing so many errors and blips,

He’s not educated, so he struggles at penmanship…

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Now lost his logicality, of which he once had a firm grip!

He dreams of his brain being men mended, maybe, reequipped.

Mental power, dreams, and memory have into the ether slipped…

He tries to battle against Doreen, for long he has schlepped…

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But is losing the battle, thus ready for his crypt

But the business went bust,

And I started to lust…

For a gal with a big bust…

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I’m prepared, but not too keen, on my upcoming sepulchre,

To be honest, I don’t see it fits into human culture…

Well, I used to be sociable, in fact, I was a campanologer,

Waking folks up Sunday morning… was my main pleasure,

Which I took my time with because it was a pleasure!

 The locals warned me off, bellringing, with a fervour,

So, to avoid a pasting, my bell rang no more…

Anyway, it hurt my arms, then I got a shoulder fracture…

So, I bought a barrow, and became a costermonger,

Giving me so much time watching the sky and pareidolia!?

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Mood Update:

While struggling to get the preceding crap ode done, I got increasingly confused. I may have just posted bits of a Snippet ode wot I did in between today’s efforts. I have to write this stuff on Word, and then I get a spell checker. Then cut and paste into Blogger, where the colour and font size usually changes, and I have to go through it all again, ever correcting! I got a little depressed with things, life etc… I gave up and transferred it to WordPress. It’s a true-life farcicalness with Doreen Dementia!

However, I had a bit of good fortune in taking a tumble while making a brew of Thompson Punjana tea. Cracking my left knee on a cabinet corner as I went down. Everything seemed to change then, outlook and contentment-wise.

 I suddenly gleaned a previously unthought series of thoughts:

Why am I worrying? The end is nigh, and whatever I do, the Doctor will not accept Doreen Dementia’s existence, so there is no chance in hell of getting any help. ‘Fact!’

As much as I miss my daily hobbles, walking to the shops, and in the tree copse. I no longer have the ability to take them. ‘Fact’ You’ll just have to accept the inevitable, Chambers!

Walking into things may get less after I’ve had the eyes done. No point in fretting over it, the right eye cataract will take time to work, but there is a good chance I will again be able to do crosswords (not that I was any good at them, Hehe!), Not fret over the other eye being done afterwards. It’ll take a long time ‘Fact’.

Should I snuff it before they are done well? Would it matter? Apart from an unknown to me, a battle to get at my valuables from sudden relatives who care… I shall not be around to see it, and I can’t take them with me, (Or, can I?). So, good luck to them. ‘Fact!’

I tried thinking about happier times… that was not easy. Hehe! But Suzanne Jean Percival came to mind first and foremost, and they really were genuine happy memories. ‘Fact!’

That made me feel worse when I realised my current position… So quiet here today, even the noisy standoffish, antisocial, smarmy, reticent, toploftical git in the flat above was not making any noise! Loneliness is something that rarely affects me, but it did then. No one visiting. No phone calls, text messages… a sense of isolation. ‘Fact!’

After I’d cleared up the mess in the kitchen and Phorpain gelled the knee, I made another brew, of Glengettie tea this time, the mood rose… without any reason, nothing had changed, yet suddenly I was ashamed of myself – and self-loathing at my pathetic self-pitying took over.‘ Fact!’

There are so many others in a worse state than I am. Somehow, although it didn’t cheer me up, my acceptance of things grew. 

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So I got on with this blog’s making.

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

LATE THOUGHT-STORMS!

As a young man, I thought I was a brainiac…
But that was sixty-odd years ago, way back,
I’ve been through periods of wine and Prozac,
Lived in a tent, then moved up to a wooden shack…
Cost of livings to high got to cut back!

I used to believe in Old Moore’s Almanac!
Bought a Robin Reliant, but I wanted a Cadillac…
That had to go because I got the sack,
Others had briefcases, me? A haversack!
I’ve never won the lottery, Monopoly, or blackjack…
Amazon, Facebook, eBay my computer track,
Maybe it’s because I’m a senile maniac?

TTFNski!