Inchie: Tuesday 5th May 2026

06/05/2026 / Inchie / 6 Comments

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Carer Mizra called the chemist to cancel the COVID-19 inoculation. Then he called the Audio Centre and made a pro tem appointment for me. I’ll have to pay for the lost hearing aids, naturally. They were only ever on loan from the NHS in the first place (1982). Hoping that it’s not going to be too expensive. Mizra speed-mopped the kitchen for me. Thank you. The INR gal vampire came for the Warfarin & Renal blood taking.

COMPUTER PROBLEMS
I tried twice to get it to load, but nope! Sulked a while and made a brew of tea, and went back to try again. And it got this far…
Thought I’d wait a little longer.
Drank the n made another brew. Emptied and sorted the waste bin bags. Went to the toilet, a long, messy job. Then, I returned to see this screen appear.
Nothing changed, and after half an hour, I started looking for the computer man’s number. I could not find it, but Mizra has it, I’m sure. Turned everything off and got a text message from the bank about an important email they had sent.
Had to try once again to get the computer on.
Luv-a-ducks! It came on!?!?
I got into the email, but could not find any email from the bank, only old ones. The text had a link… part of a scam, mayhaps? I went on the text on the phone to read it again… Mystery! It was not there. Either I had deleted it… or it was a self-destruct con-job? Haha!
Do you remember the TV series?
“This tape will self-destruct in five (ten) seconds.
Good luck, [Dan/Jim].”
I wish they would show them again; they were the epitome of corny, but I liked them.
Love it when the good guys win.
Morning shot.
As the right leg gets better,
the left leg gets worse.
Morning snaps.
Meal. 7¼/10
Evening dawns.
FOOD ADVICE
For anyone purchasing Morrison’s ‘Sweet Vine-ripened Tomatoes’ in May. As long as you appreciate the utter tastelessness and lack of juice, they’re fine.
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Inchie: 16th February, 2016
George Street in Nottingham City Centre. He used to walk to here from his flat in Sherwood and back again after shopping. Of course, you have to remember that back then, he was still alive. Hehehe! He loved a long walk, and hobbled through his beloved Tree Copse on route there and back to his cell (flat).
The persistent rain kept so many others indoors. Now, it is Inchie that is stuck indoors. This year he has left his flat a good many times; Shopping with Carer (2), Computer shop for help with Carer (2), QMC hospital (6), City Hospital (1), Highbury (2) with Carer, Dentist with Carer (2), Opticians with Carer (1), Diabetes Program Meeting (2) 1 (alone), 1 with Carer, Audio (Hearing aid) Centre, with Carer (2), and the Neurologist (1) alone, the Carer nor lift were not available. He was lifted there, for only £9, but no lift available to get back. That was the day of disasters, if you recall. He had a seizure as he left the building, got lost and had to ask the way to the tram station. The tram had people squished like in a can of sardines when it arrived. It was getting dark. He got on the tram with his three-wheeled walker, condensed as far as he could. As the tram pulled away, he lost his balance and fell over.
Luckily, there was not enough room for him to fall flat on the floor. People around him helped him to his feet, and a passenger stood and offered him her seat. That was so kind and will always be remembered.
Got off in the City Centre, and was threatened jbed and tormented by a gang of youths, yobboes, when he asked them to let him through… and they would not, so he had to walk on the tram lines to get over the road.
Up Queen Street to the bus stop, and had another mini-seizure. He was confused to see that 40x buses were all that was on the timetable. Thinking, well, the same number, they must go to the flats. He got on and took a seat. All is going well now. He recalled working out a possible problem that may present itself as the bus turns down to Winchester Street; he could see nothing out of the windows, too dark. So thought as he felt the bus turning right, that would be the vehicle turning into where the flats are. Sure enough, he sensed the right turn motion and pressed the next stop bell.
It was another surprise to the lad when he realised that the bus had not stopped at his flats and had dropped him off in Sherwood, on Mansfield Road.
He crossed over the road with plans to catch another 40x bus up to near the flats and hobble down to them.
But this is Inchie we are talking about. Nothing ever goes right for him since 1966.
He realised he had no money for the bus trip right up the second-steepest hill in Nottingham, to get home.
No option left, he had to walk all the way up, which he did. Stopping at least a dozen times to let the Anne Gyna pains calm down and catch his breath.
Then, as he neared the top of the steep bit, his mobile chirrupped into life. No lights on this stretch of the road, cracked pavements, bits of branches, twigs, browned and green leaves, dog-poo, and even a used Durex. He knows this because it is where he dropped his mobile and had to dig into the ground to find it! Eventually finding it, still ringing. It was Carer Ejaz who was in his flat waiting for him.
This Tale Of Woe is Authentic.
Since moving into the flats, his life has taken a turn for the worse. A selection of new ailments since arriving includes Glaucoma, another cataract, Renal problems not yet clarified. Fractured Knee Frank, Heart Failure Felicity, Sandra’s Seizures, Little Inchies Fungal lesion bleeding, Earache Erasmus Lymphorrea Leslie, Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, Bladder Infection Iris, and Shoulder-Shuddering-Shirely
On the bright side… erm… er…
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Inchie: Tuesday 28th April 2026 = Computer Assessed, Not Good!

29/04/2026 / Inchie / 7 Comments

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Worra Night!
After eating the meal of the day and really enjoying it, washing the pots and visiting the Porcelain Throne, I unfortunately suffered an Accifauxpa and didn’t get there in time. But it could have been worse; it has been many times this year, and it only took me about 15 minutes to clean things up.
I decided sleep was next in line for my attention. I seemed to have fallen asleep quickly… I felt I had when waking at 02:00hrs, again in desperate need of the Porcelain Throne. Not wanting to risk another accident, I fumbled my way out of the bed and hobbled-hastily to the wet room.
A darned close call, I only just made it. Where all the evacuating little, short dollops kept coming from, I don’t know. I cast my mind back as the plop-plops kept coming. I only ate my favourite nosh, cheesy baked potato. I can’t recall such a reaction to these before. To be on the safe side, I got down in the £300 second-hand shop bought, c1966. moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, Catheter tube trapping, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner. To enable a swifter reply in case I need to go again.
0315:hrs, and I was off again to the Porcelain Throne. I got there more swiftly this time. No accidents.
When I got back to the recliner, I almost felt another follow-through trying to make its way down. I could not get to sleep again now. I sort of just waited for the next evacuation warning to arrive. It came at 06:00hrs. A lot less passed this time. Thankfully, I got there in plenty of time. I pondered, I do that sometimes, you know. Was the cheese in the baked potatoes out of date?
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The day brought forth some challenges, not of the rear-end evacuation type. Attilla the Carer, Rachid did the first two calls, so my low mood was set. The feet and toes seem to adapt much more easily at first. Three toe-stubbings in the first hour put an end to that bit of pleasure. I partially opened the balcony curtains, and when the sun comes out, I have to close them. Bright sun doesn’t suit Cataract Katie or Glaucoma Gladys. This snap came out as it looked. A medical delivery arrived. Concentration was bad when I got on the computer. But I reckon it was less bothersome than yesterday morning.
I did my best to get the Monday blog finished before the computer man arrives. I pressed on, making mistake after mistake, and I don’t know how long it took, but I got it sent off. Fearing that many cock-ups will be in the finished blog.

I took another shot through the balcony windows, dead excited about this blog, innit? Hahaha!

Carer Rashid did the next call. Nothing much happened; if he can ignore me, I can ignore him. Haha!
After he’d not too soon for me, gone, I got the kettle on.
And the intercom sounded. I was overjoyed!

The Computer Man Cameth
Less than a minute later, Carer Mizra came in behind the computer genius Andy. Who spent a long time asking questions and assessing the state of the computer for me. Mirza conducted the communications. After much effort from Andy, trying to install the two-terabyte external hard drive in the computer. At least I think it was a two-terabyte-sized one. The old computer would not let him transfer anything from the other drive to save space,
Mizra ran out of time, so no time for me to have an assisted shower or to get the laundry done again.

Andy ended up asking if I wanted to use this machine as it is, with slightly more memory, but not a lot, or do you want me to source a suitable used one with Asif, that will cope with CorelDraw, which has very little space left to do much. I said I’d go with his recommendation. The goal was to get a new computer. Fair enough for me. So, be it. Bank Balance considerations, of course. Andy will report the needs back to Asif. Closed the computer down.

As Andy left, I realised that the Catheter pouch was overdue for emptying. So, I emptied it. Haha!

I’m feeling a smidge more hopeful now that Andy’s been and sorted this computer out, and I agree with his decision that a new (second-hand, refurbished) machine would be the best option for me.

The legs, feet, and toes were all looking better when Ejaz took these snaps, which I put together, but not very well. Looks like a mangle of limbs, the way I did this, manipulating. Hehe!

Frank arrived with some treats that Jenny, my angel, had sent for me. I gave him a small box of stuff for the Charity or handing out. Had a little outing with Frank, a lovely couple of neighbours who I am very proud to have as Guardians & friends. Bless them both. So understanding and helpful. X I’d made a meal earlier, I’ll not eat all of it, after the feast from Jenny.

The computer went down, died!
The landline stopped working!
The TV stopped working!
My heart and interest in living went into hold mode. My first actions, apart from panicking, were to try to think about what I was doing or did wrong that caused the catastrophe in the first place. Or had Andy missed something earlier? The chances were that it was my error, a mistake, or that I accidentally caught a dangerous, fatal combination of keys. As I have one in the past. Causing all sorts of problems due to the dying neurotransmitters.
They warned me there was no treatment, saying they cannot mend damaged nerve ends, and it will slowly get worse. They were right.
I thought I’d give it some time before trying to restart the computer, in case it was doing something all technical in the background.
I picked up the landline thingy, put it down, and it made a tone. The mystery deepened.
I had no idea for certain of what I did with the TV to get it back on. Turned it on a few times, and it turned itself off. Got it to stay on, displaying a No. Connected sign. Then pressed the TV button on the remote control, and the TV closed down again. I pointed the remote at the scary, threatening Virgin box, and the red light turned yellow. Then tried again to start the TV, and dropped the control thingy. Got the picker-upper and retrieved it, to see that the TV had come on?
I prayed that getting the computer back would be as easy as that. (It wasn’t and didn’t!)
In the past, when launching the computer, I’d get a ‘DoS’ message telling me to press ESC for details. This would bring up a dreaded blue screen. Press Enter for options. Another blue screen says to press F1 to start the computer. This has happened each time I’ve opened it for about 3 years or more now.
But not now… The black screen opens, but pressing ESC does nothing. Also, I could not turn off the computer at the button, had to switch the power off. I kept repeating this pattern, so many times and for so long. Not knowing what else I could try. Each go was met with failure.

No sleep tonight. Mind on the verge of exploding. self-pity, futility, anger… Mostly, the sour, blood-draining effects of Deep, Dark, Dank, Depression Darius.
And to think, I had gone up into a high a few hours ago when the computer was sorted…
That didn’t last long, did it?

Heartlessly, I put the meal in the microwave. It looked okay, smelled okay, but after feartily enjoying Jenny’s treats, combined with the Computer problems, I just couldn’t eat more than a few spoonfuls. I couldn’t get to sleep either. I scribbled down the times I got up to try to restart the computer.

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Inchie Today: Monday 27th April 2026

28/04/2026 / Inchie / 3 Comments

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0625hrs: I leapt out of the bed, somersaulted over the aged, grotty-looking, c1966-made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. Landing and started doing some shadow boxing. A 100 press-ups, and got the weights out, 150 double curls, and burst into song, ‘I’ve got the Whole World in My Hands…’ Into the balcony, threw open the windows and burst forth with a few minutes of Tarzan wailing. I suppose you have doubts about the validity & truth of the above? Very wise!
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I took off the Catheter night bag and hobbled into the kitchen to do the pots and safety checks. Then the bins, and off to the wetroom initially for a poop. Trotsky is in charge this time. Messy! I decided to get a stand-up wash, teggies, shave, etc., while I was there. It all went fairly well, just one bad cut shaving.
Got the kettle on and opened the window to take this shot of the morning sky. Realising how much easier the swollen right leg & foot were today. Nice! I brewed the tea and got on the computer. Slowly, my earlier feeling of being overall in a better place faded. When the Carer called, it was Rachid.
I had another of those long active seizures after I’d got rid of the Carer. Don’t really know how long or what I had been up to. But I noticed the Hoover had been moved, and the mug of cold tea had been knocked or dropped onto the floor. It took me an age to recover from this seizure. I felt almost groggy.

The INR agency worker came to take the blood for the DVT Warfarin clinic testing. The result came back at about 17:50 hours: Mon 2, every other day, 1½.

I had long periods of feeling out-of-it, almost like being drunk. Confusion lasted all day.
And as the late afternoon, tea-time came, I honestly was an utter mental wreck.
The following might be out of sync again, because in the morning, when I read my memory notes, well, it looked nothing like my handwriting, and my memory was only prompted by some of the photographs I’d taken.
I can remember this one. I had two giant potatoes left and fancied my hand at making some of my beloved cheesy potatoes. I couldn’t decide which of the spuds to use, as they both came well battered about.
At least I could tell when I took this snap, of the battery calendar clock.
These shots of the clouds were a pareidolia’s delight.

The INR blood was taken.

I got a phone call that I could not hear any of the words. The Carer was here, so I asked him to take the call. He did, but said not a word to me; he just started looking around the Carer’s desk and on the floor. Then shot off out of the flat.
Returning to sit down and get back on his mobile.
I never found who or why they called me. Despite asking the Carer. Mysteriousnesses?

I got the potato into the oven and got on with the blogging. It was hard work, as per usual, with snaffles and Concentration Konrad not helping in the slightest. Carer style.
Taking this photo of the sky was when the ultra-drunken feeling and sensation deepened, along with genuine confusion.

The joy of seeing Caring Carer Ejaz make his only call of the day really perked me up. I felt much more like myself. Someone who cares, speaks, doesn’t grunt and ignores me when I say or ask for anything to be done or whatever. He did a full-body check, asked how the legs felt, and asked if I wanted a brew and some bikkies. Phorpain Gelled my painful Shaling Shoulder Shirely, rubbing it in until it was fully absorbed. Much better reaction when they spend a minute rubbing the gel in. 👍🏻
The hard work chap called. Still no body checking, not that I needed it after Ejaz had done it for me. I put the oven on to cook the large spud.

I hastened to fetch the camera from the junk room to take this amazing shot of the evening sky. Another pareidolia’s delight.

I got the spud out of the oven and got so annoyed when I had a feast of dropping stuff, spilling things, and losing my grip on things. Plus, difficulty in using the implements needed to make the meal. Unbelievable problem! What a mess I’d made in the kitchen. It was bad enough before, with no Carer cleaning it for three or four weeks now. Ejaz was the last one to do it. I’ll try to remember the sequence of droppages & spillages, etc. Oddly, I could recall these with ease. I think this is because I was all het up and angry at myself for repeatedly making such a mess that it stuck with me… maybe.
I took the monster potato out of the oven; the husk disintegrated on the outside, with flakes of skin all over the counter, tray, cooker, and floor… Grrr!
Belatedly, I got the chopping board out and used that to slice the spud in half. It took a long time to clean up, but it didn’t matter that the veg was cooling, as I was going to scoop it into a basin for mixing, then put it back in the oven to brown off.
I got the no-butter butter from the fridge to mix in, and picked up the large mixing bowl, this is where interfered again. I dropped the bowl, & no-butter butter. The bowl, hitting a large stack of Tupperware washed earlier and left to drain, with several different-sized bowls, fell to the floor, rolled around, and surrounded the No-butter butter! A bit of luck this time, the long picker-upper meant no bending and less pain and dizziness!
Still determined to have my favourite meal, I pressed on after a few minutes of recuperation.
I cut the mammoth potato in half lengthwise and began scooping the flesh into the mixing bowl. It was here, that kicked off.
I stood looking down the bowl at some of the potatoes on the floor. I’ll not say what I called myself.
But it was a smidge defamatory.
No choice, I could not avoid bending down, if I was going to clean this up with the little bits on the floor.
I’ve asked every Carer to find out where I can get a long-handled brush & dustpan set. And how! Being as I am now flat-bound again!
Irritation brewed in my mind, not self-pity this time, more like a semi-anger.
Back to cooking. I scooped the flesh into the bowl, added the last of the Leicester-grated cheese, and some No-butter butter and sea salt. Bashed it up for as long as I could, into t semi-smooth state, refilled the two halves of the husk, ran a fork over the top of each to ensure crispiness when cooked, and went for a sit-down without doing any clearing up, and fell asleep.
Not for long, but I could smell the potatoes when I woke up. So, off into the kitchen and they were just how I like ’em, well done. And they were red hot when I extracted them from the oven. So while they cooled a bit, I cleared and washed things up.

Then at last, and with great physical and emotional pains, I got the meals served up… After adding Chilli & Lemon Potato Curls. Great!
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Worth All The Hassle? You Decide! Hehehe!
Despite it all, it was lovely,
But I have to say, costly,
Pricewise, Physically & Mentally,
I say this enthusiastically,
I fare with life intolerantly,
But, voided living in xerophagy,
I need help neuropsychiatrically,
I can feel high, but hesitantly…
With the crap-luck that haunts me!
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Inchie: Monday 13th April 2026

14/04/2026 / Inchie / 12 Comments

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3:15hrs: I woke very reluctantly indeed, to be greeted by Mind-Mangling-Malcolm, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and Rib-Pains-Rupert were in angery moods.. As I was taking off the night Catheter, Grip-Loss-Gloria ensured I dropped the nocturnal pouch, and Dizzy Dennis nearly had me topple over as I retrieved the pouch. Made a dismal effort to straighten the bedclothes.
Off to the Porcelain Throne, Trotsky Terence fashion, sorted the bins and got the Health Checks done. With some poor results again, see the photo above. I searched for the Four-Pronged-Percy. Failed to, but I’ll find him later, of course, I may have left him in the kitchenette with the Wooden-Willy-Walking-Stick.
Got the computer on to record the HC results.
Google loaded second time, then had a right farcical eight attempts to get CorelDraw to load. I then ended it, which was loaded with missing pages, and it gave me a warning that my device’s memory was 96.5% full. You cannot save any changes made to this graphic. Try saving it with another name. ‘Save As’ in a different name. Remember to delete what you can to ensure there will be sufficient room to save. That cost me over an hour to sort out, and I think I may have deleted some unintended files. Cumudgeon-Mode-Adopted! Third visit, same mode, to the Porcelain Throne.
And found Wooden-Willy-Walking-Stick.

07:15hrs: The Carer arrived.
Jenny, my Angel, sent an email, and I responded. Hubby Frank is coming up to see me later. A nicer, kind pair of people and I could not ask for better. Always willing to help out, despite Jenny’s own problems. 🤎

In the morning, lateenalenal morning on Tuesday, (Another bad night & morning involving nurses visiting me and lots of hours of excruciating pain), I found this photographicalisation on the SD card. It took me a while to see what it was of, the reminder notepad on the desk, I think. Then I launched into ‘Wandering-Mind-Mode’ for a few hours. Concentration Konrad had me starting jobs, and at the first interruption to my thoughts, I found myself in another room doing something unrelated. I kept doing this so often today. But many tasks were never returned to, and that ‘Haze’ was in charge too often, too.

Rashid made his next call. I was pleased with his increased attention, and to me. Not a bad lad, and seems to be improving each call. He checked and loosened the Catheter straps and medicated the leg scars. After he’s gone, the bag fell down when the straps broke. After another Porcelain Throne visit (Trotsky Terence mode), I went to empty the Catheter bag… and there was nowt in it? I wasn’t too worried, with all the fuss and bother today, I hadn’t drunk so much water. So I got a few bottles out and started to gulp it down. After three litres had been swallowed, as I checked the pouch, I felt the bad backflow pains start. The pains were terrible and persistent. I decided to call the Community Nurses to ask for advice and help if needed. The AI robot kept repeating, ‘We are very busy. If you are calling in an emergency, please dial 111 for advice.’ After half an hour, another AI voice, female this time, said, “You are number 18 in the queue. I was walking around to take my mind off of the pain, and the door chime chimed. I had progressed to being 9th in the queue and went to the door.
It was the Falls Team, lady. As I was saying about the lack of urine flow, it started flowing again out of the blue. All good. Slowly, the pain eased, and the flow continued while the Fall’s Team lady was here. We did some Q&A’s. Kindly adjusted the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, eyesore-horrendously grungy, disease-fermenting second-hand, beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, Catheter tube yanking, recliner, for me. Thank you. Looks better now. Some no-sores cushions were arranged for me on my recliner and computer chair. Bless them. I was still in some pain and got the shakes and dizzies while she was with me. I lost a lot of what was agreed. But there was something else, I think. When she’s gone, I increased the water intake to be on the safe side.

I got back onto the blog and made so many mistakes again. I was doing reminders for Monday and using the Sunday blog to catch up, and got slightly confused between the two.
So, from here on, I realise there may be more errors between the days. I hope not, but it’s so late in the day now; my eyes are fading fast, and my cognitive attention and recognition are worse.
I, well, my EQ can sense that my conditions, physically and mentally, are getting to me more, and things will get worse in a short space of time. Along with the lack of a good painkiller, the computer and related problems were getting worse, and later on, scarily, I had to shut it down before I was ready, blue-screen, shortage of memory warnings, and the frustrations developed again to keep Dark Dank, Depression Darius company. My wandering mind does not help.
The Catheter problems are returning, no sleep at all tonight, and backflow agony, and my responses to the problems and failed corrections are that I think I’m getting a smidge more resigned to them. Accepting them… what else can I do? Then I think of the help I get from Angel Jenny, and feel ashamed. I’m getting all morbid and self-pitying, aren’t I? Writing this codswallop, and knowing now what was to come overnight, I should be ashamed, too.

Another mystery snap found on my Kodak-Tim-2 camera. Not a mystery of what it is of, but a mystery of why the heck I took it in the first place, possibly not meaning to? All part of the great mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, & spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Dank Depression Darius, Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD), Brain with TBI, Toothache Tiffany, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Cataract Katie, Fractured Knee Frank, Glaucoma Gladys, Anne Gyna, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, DVT, Diabetic Polyneuropathy, Reflux Roger, Mind Wandering Malcolm, Blood-Levels up & down, Duodenal Doanld, and the damned seizures. With Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited sanity of cerebrum and body. High Blood Pressure & Cholesterol. Did I mention getting shot twice and my mechanical aorta? My faith & hopes are on the wane. Not to mention my bank account, which is at its lowest it has ever been!
Just thought I’d mention it, like.

This photo, I’m not sure when I took it, but I think it was Monday, and I have no idea what it was of. A work of unintended art? No, a shaking Inchie. Haha!

Mizra made his only call of the day, following Ejaz’s.
WE hope to get the showring and laundry done on Tuesday. Fingers crossed there is no hassle to stick its nose in… There was, tell you next time. 🤐

Got the meal prepped and done. Mizra spread some bread and buttered it with no-butter butter and some soft cheese, to have with my nosh.
Smashing!

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Inchie: Sunday 12th April 2026

13/04/2026 / Inchie / 1 Comment

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Sorry, but today was a nightmare. I was so far behind on the blog and made such cock-ups with the graphics and photos; there are a few on here from when I was going through the blog and saved the snap graphics to the wrong date. What a pickle. All I can do is try to get them sorted, but I need the time. Busy day Monday, nurses called, Catheter problems, Carer unwilling. And the pain from the lower left chest came on again. With my arithmaphobia ever-present, more mistakes were made, and the quandary got even muddier and slipperier. Then, like a twit on Monday, I deleted the wrong day’s snaps. I did an Ode for Monday and carried on, forgetting I’d not done Sunday blog yet.s. The confusion is worse, with mt doing the day’s blog often two days later. I’m in a mess and have had to move the date to Sunday. Thinking I’d been getting somewhere, I then deleted loads of Sundays, thinking the date of the blof date… Now, Monday, trying to sort and save what I could… the chest is playing up, and no Morphine left, I got very angry with myself. I phoned the District nurses when the Catheter stopped working… I’ll explain this in Monday’s blog, if I ever get around to it and don’t find any more mistakes I’ve made with my ‘brilliant’ idea of deleting old graphics to save memory and keep the computer going… I’m waffling. A short Ode.
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Up at 0610hrs. Ejaz did a full-body check, medications, and creaming and foaming of areas in need.
I’m missing tons of, as per usual, my eyes are even worse now. The notes I made… maybe 10% are readable. Grumph, Moan, with a touch of pathetic self-pity in there somewhere. CorelDraw froze again.
Photos saved that I did not delete, not many and of the views from the windows.

Managed to save the meal show, but not sure from what day, I think it’s Sunday’s.
Now I see it, it could be for Saturday,
I’m fed up. Oh, it might be Sunday’s.

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TTFN
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Inchie: Sunday, 5th April 2026

06/04/2026 / Inchie / 2 Comments

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The first thing I recall on waking up was . Seconds later, I realised I was virtually shivering with cold. I knew something was wrong to feel this cold as I saw this morning’s sunshine blasting through my cotton-thin, tattered-edged curtains, their hooks missing from the balcony. I took off the nocturnal Catheter pouch, got a hold of and went over to investigate where the cold was coming from. Taking this snap of the view… through the wide open balcony door! No wonder I was shivering, I’d left the doors open and been sleeping in the nearby aged, grotty-looking, c1966-made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. I closed the door and found that I had somehow lost one of my night socks. I needed to get warm, and, conveniently, the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived. I limped into the wet room and put the heater on. Got sat on the raised plastic seat, and wallowed in the warmth from the convector heater on the wall. It took mages to get the evacuation underway, but as I was warming up, I didn’t mind it at all today. I was convinced after ten minutes of urging and pushing, the Constipation Conrad would be in control. But, no! Although the first torpedo clunked into the bowl, immediately followed of a Trotsky Terence-like performance of splattering, stinking, watery mass flowed. The torpedo was dark brown; the follow-up was orangey-light brown. It cost me half of a new toilet roll, and an awfully long time to clean things up after the event.

I tried to get back to sleep by adding an extra-heavy quilt to the other one. But Ejaz rang the intercom to get admission. We did my Health Checks with the sphygmomanometer, blood tests with the Pulse oximeter, and measured the temperature. I think they were slightly better than the previous few days, but still in the High Category. Medications provided. Teeth were tinctured. Earholes olive oiled. Then Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was Salved. Harold’s bleeding Haemorrhoids were Germoloided, and Little Inches bleeding Fungal Lesion was anticepticated. That was the only one that tested my pain level. Arthur Itis and Cartilages Kloe and Carole were Pornapain-gelled.

The back, amazingly, did not need any medicating… that’s a first this year. Then, while I was brushing my teeth, Ejaz made me a mug of tea; he’s getting better at it lately. Supplying me with some bikkies to dunk in the mug. Going through this every day can get a bit wearying. But thanks to Jenny’s help, I have longer visits on some days, which stops my blogging, but it is of great assistance when Mizra or Ejaz does it. They know what is needed and do not ask me what I want all the time. They, I think. appreciate my neurological problems and how they affect me, memory-wise, stuttering, and loss of balance. The others even leave me to bend down. Which is a bit galling when they do that, while they are on their mobiles doing reports, I assume.

After bidding Ejaz Cheerio and Tara, I took a decent snap of the view from the kitchenette window. Then had to pay another visit to the . This was almost a copy of the first effort of the day. More time lost. Glad that I’m well stocked up with toilet paper! For a treat, I’m using an Andrex roll between each of the terribly thin, cheap rolls.
I’d like to work out what’s happening with these dual activations of both Trotsky Terence and Conrad Consitpation-like evacuation on the same visit?

I hoovered the hallway and kitchen. Well, it’s not a Hoover, is it?
It is an Akitas cheapo version from Amazon. I can’t be accused of being high-class, educated, or a snob. Hehe!
Common as muck would be the best epitaph for me. When they bury my ashes or whatever they do, I’d like a plaque on the wall or put in the press. Perhaps something along the lines of:
“He came, He failed, and he went” Haha!

I think I saw some rain falling as I took this shot through the balcony windows. The door chime chimed, and in came Carer Ejaz, on his midday call. We checked the second Health Check figures were recorded correctly on the Excel log, and I was in so little pain, just took two Paracetamol. Good that!,
As Ejaz was getting ready for Porpain-Gelling Shaking- Shoulder-Shirley, he noticed that I must have been scratching away at the still showing scars on my lower left arm.
He put some Cetreben cream on it. Advising me not to scratch at them again, or they will never clear up or disappear.

Google’s opening was still hit-or-miss. I just kept trying a different icon for the same action until one worked. A different one responded to being pressed each time. WordPress was not so jerky today, well, at 02:45hrs, anyway.
This keyboard is getting harder and harder to see with its tiny letters on the keys, and faded off-white ones at that. I’m hoping for the best when the man calls to check the computer out, I think on Tuesday or Wednesday. Mizra made the arrangements for me when we went shopping on Saturday. I loved that, getting out to an actual shop and seeing what I was buying beforehand. I hope not to buy food online anymore. With all the mistakes I keep making, getting help shopping is invaluable now. I hope it continues weekly, please! Hehehe!

Cor blimey, the sun had dipped!
Then the rain came again.

Inchie Today: Wednesday 14th January 2026

15/01/2026 / Inchie / 9 Comments

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Woke late at 06:30hrs. Night pouch removed.
Balance, Toothache, Backache, my right Shoulder pains, and Dizzy Dennis… the ailments were gathering. I took a shot of the view from the kitchenette. All the same, I was in better knick than yesterday morning. I did have a rare early morning seizure, but the after-effects were minimal.
Porcelain Throne used, made up waste bins. The right shoulder is still painful. Toothache, Tiffany is playing up. Carer arrived. Med’s issued, shoulder, legs and ankles were foamed. Extra painkiller taken.
The mental pain that was to follow (Oligarchs British Gas) took over as my main worry for the day, when I tell you, I’d like to point out that I am not exaggerating.
I tried to get the blog done as much as possible before Elaz returned for the two-hour call.
But progress was stunted with my bad eye almost blind in the afternoon and evening. I made a ton of mistakes, and I got very little done. Went to make a brew of tea in the kitchen, I’d left the tap on and the hot water ran cold!
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CorelDraw, which had been okay up to now, shot into full-screen mode, with a message coming up on top.
As I mused over what the heck I’d done this time, a text and an email arrived simultaneously. British Gas, telling me they urgently need a meter reading. I knew about this, but no one knows how to get the figures up. The Wardens, or neighbours. I’ll ask Ejaz to ring them for me when he comes again.

Back to the problem with CorelDraw. I turned it off in the end, but had to close and save everything first. It would not let me click the cross. All off, then rebooted, and opened CorelDraw to see if it worked.
At first glance, it seemed to be okay… then I realised page eight, the one with all the tabs and clipart I’d done on it… Had disappeared. I took this pretty well, I thought. Just the usual swearing, spitting and hexing. All gone now, so I have to make new ones whenever I want one. And word lists that I’ve redone, not many of them, keep disappearing from the file? Now I was spitting blood!

Got a message or two telling me to do this and that if I want to keep my Cloud access. All beyond me.

Ejaz returned and had a few things on my list for him to help me with. He took the laundry down first. Came back and called the Dentist to ask if they could get me a Wednesday appointment, so the Carer can go with me. All good with this. Then he called the Doctors to book a Wednesday appointment. This was not so good, but not bad. He’s got one for me after a verbal tussle.

Then… He called the oligarch-owned British Gas to ask them how to get a reading on the meter. After ten minutes, I put my hearing aids in to talk to the lady on the line… I couldn’t hear or understand a word she was shouting. Ejaz put the speaker on the landline. I still could not make out what she was saying. She had an Asian sounding tone, but even Ejaz was struggling… Then, the phone kept cutting out on us.
On about the fifth time, contact was lost altogether. Ejaz rang back. You could hear the frustration: this time, they needed account numbers and passwords! Luckily, I had these nearby. He got connected after more queries of why are you calling? Who are you? etc. Poor Ejaz got reconnected to the same ever-increasing, losing-it, and irritated lady.
Ejaz was sent four times to get the meter reading. I went with him. What we were being told to do, I recall pressing the orange button, or any of the other things they told us to try, worked! The line kept cutting out for a few seconds at a time.
We looked at the three electricity boxes in the flats’ foyer; they were all different types of meters.
I came back to the phone and told the lady, who complained about not understanding ‘Your carers’ accent, (Not that either of us could make out what she was saying either); I told her my age, disabilities, and that I just want to give you a meter reading that British Gas have asked for for over 6 months now. I need someone to come and show me how to get them… Then her voice became crystal-clear, “Oh, I can arrange that for you!” I replied, “Yes, please, please do that. Thank you.”
Cor, Luvva Duck!
Poor Ejaz shot down to get the laundry back, because he was on a deadline that was almost up for the call.
He left the bag on the bed. Unfortunately, I forgot about getting them out until late in the evening. When I did, I had to sort out damp, tangled, clumped together clothes and slippers. The hat, which I put in the bag. should not have gone into a machine; it should be hand-washed only. I couldn’t even force it onto my head. Haha! I’ve only worn it once, so why did I wash it? That’ll be Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, or Doreen Dementia to blame. Maybe the British Gas farce broke my concentration? (That’s easy to do with me)
I’ll sue them for £4.99, Har-Har!
I got back onto blogging and made some progress, not a lot, mind you. Then the eyesight really got worse. Not that I was surprised, it does this every day when I get tired. I’m hoping to hear from the NHS EENT soon about the cataract lasering. Hopefully, before my 90th birthday. But I’m not too hopeful.

Bombay potatoes, with a good dollop of
Sharwood’s Gung Po sauce added. With extra water chestnuts, red onion, tomatoes, extra baked & chunked thick-skinned red potatoes, and mushrooms. Nice & tasty!
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TTFN

Inchie: Friday12th December 2025:

13/12/202514/12/2025 / Inchie / 4 Comments

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Each day brings new challenges: Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, Seizures, Errors, Mistakes, and of course, Failures and Depression.
This has to be coped with, I know this.
It’s possible to accept these daily trials, because I also know there is no way of changing things. Docile-Subserviency is my only defence, well, it’s not even that really. There is no protection, no shield from lousy luck. One option, I suppose, is to go crazy… mind you, I’m on my way there now.
You could not write a fictional diary with so much bad luck as I suffer diurnally in real life. There’s an element of humour within this tale of woe. I can’t find it yet, thought. But it’s there, maybe conjured from within my watered brain, Dementia Doreen, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, or my previously famed resistance to depression. But of course, I can ask them for guidance, but getting a reply is a bit hopeful. Hehe!
However, silly as it may sound, I think there is a better chance of getting an answer from these ailments than from Social Services. I was going to get help with the wheelchair problems, my computer problems, my financial problems, water on the brain problems and Neurological assessment and treatments… none have arrived yet. Still, I may live long enough for just the odd one to come? Which one would I like it to be?
Erm… well, perhaps, or not, maybe… anyone would be of help. Chances of getting any? Zilch comes to mind. But, you never know, I might get surprised?
On the other hand, my recent medical history says none, with a loud inner voice. Shame!
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Woke at 04:55hrs. Night bag removed, and into the wetroom for a stand-up body scrum, teggies, a shave, this did not take place, then some medicationalisationing of my inner and outer extremities. Totally, at that time, I got dressed and went into the kitchen to take some shots of the view on offer from the kitchenette window. Again, hoping to take a decent one at least.
The second was better.
Got on the computer, but ran into complications again. From MS Word, CorelDraw and Google. No idea why things were acting up like they were. So many aspects were misfiring. Space bar not working, then came on again. CorelDraw froze. I got a message from MS re: Excel, but could not grasp the technicalities, so closed the window and then all the others and left it for a while before trying to boot again. Went to make a brew, returned and reset the calendar clock, and gingerly, but hopefully, turned the computer on. Nothing happened? The lights were lit? I meandered back to the kitchen in the full grip of .
I took this snap of the slowly lightening sky. It was not a bad one this time. Compared to what my one eye saw and how the picture turned out. To say I was feeling so low and in a fair degree of depression, I noted this. I reckon I was convinced the computer had thrown in the towel, angry at all the failed promises of help that never arrived, and had resigned myself to it. Back to the computer and turned it on. This time, noticing the external drive thingamajig was flashing away at a fair pace. Took a snap of it, I’ve not got the foggiest idea why. The computer booted up, and the working light continued. I think it might be MS Excel and Word updating something? I waited 30 minutes for the flashing to stop, then opened Google and CorelDRAW. Ah, that’s better, things seem to be working correctly, well, as near to properly as one can expect from bug-ridden, overcharging CorelDraw. My attention was interrupted by a text message on my mobile phone. Ah, hopefully that will be the night catheters ordered by my Carer last Wednesday. (It was).
I was tickled pink when the computer came on again and had a visit from . Which proved enjoyable and rid me of worry. But also this rare but welcome ‘Sod-Em-All’ sensation that comes with Horis’s attendance, caused me to wander off the plot, and I spent over three hours plus, working on the much missed ‘lost-but-no-idea-how’ word-list recreating.
Was I bothered at the time? Nope! I regretted it in the morning when I realised I had done absolutely nothing on this blog and had to start from scratch. Yet I thought I had made a start? I suppose I can blame .

Then, I had the longest-ever seizure that I can remember. I estimate that it was for three hours, and the day had gone! The Carer was ringing as I was recovering from the effects of the visit into the unknown. My part-drunk mug of tea was stone cold, my body half hanging out of the chair; I reckon I was lucky not to fall off it. Yet the after effects, compared to a mini-seizure, were piffle; I was back near normal, within seconds, and the acrid taste coming up from the innards was barely noticeable.
Carer gave me my medications, rubbed some pain gel in the right knee and was off, bless him.

The District Nurse arrived. I’m always glad when this happens. She’d come to check on my right leg and but
saw the state of my left arm, and proceeded in a no-nonsense manner to pick out the dried blood and lymph blobules, clean it and put a plaster on. Telling me (with a smile), she had not come to do this, just your leg. Then she moved onto the leg; whipped off the diabetic strapping, pulled down the under-sock, and removed the blood-soaked plaster, cleaned it and put a new plaster over it. I thanked her and off she went on her rounds. I bade her farewell.
This is when abandoned me, and . And stayed for the rest of the night.

This Is Spunk
A New Mexico resident who dwells with a large clowder of cats. Don’t let the cute expression fool you. He is the leader of the group and his paperatzzi owner, Tim. No doubting it, he’s a handsome one. Although please don’t tell other furries that I said so. Hehe! 😹🤎

I overcooked my oven chips a little (a little? Hehehe!)
That was after going through the whole packet of chips, especially selecting the small ones that would cook faster, as hunger was starting to get the best of me. I knew I’d just got to run a sweep of the computer with CCleaner and thought they would be nearly ready by the time I finished, about 12 minutes.
But no, of course not.
Had me deciding to do a few minutes of the word-listings. Eventually, an hour later, the door chime chimed, and I smelt the burning!
I took the tray of, shall we say, singed chips out and photographed it. The Carer didn’t notice the smell, which amazed me. Medications were issued.
Then I made up a meal of crisps and opened a can of pork hock. It had a ring pull, which I pulled. The result was a cut finger, well, a cut thumb. I got a packet of Cheesy Curls, some cheese, and put the meat on a tray.
I missed the chips naturally, but was pleased that the makeshift meal tasted good.

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TTFN

Inchie. Mon/Tue/Wed 24/25/26th Nov 25

27/11/2025 / Inchie / 16 Comments

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I had a theme for my Ode to relate,
My body needs my brain to cooperate,
It talks to itself – rubbish, bletherskate,
My dream? In a cave, the walls began to corruscate,
I was with someone, a Carer, lover and old mate?
As he/she started on me, to lambaste & berate…
Its body faded, it began to loudly cachinate…
Folks from my past appeared, as a conglomerate,
Hands in hands, they issued me looks of hate,
Then howled out loud, they did not abate…
I cooked roast potatoes, one on each plate,
I wanted to talk, welcome them, hospitate…
The howling temporarily stopped, as they ate,
Telling me I was a terrible ingrate?
Dark Dank Depressing Darius began to inumbrate,
The cave grew cold, and I began to sudate,
Saying out loud, “What the Hell’s going on, mate?”
Dead relatives came, their intentions vulnerate,
They came towards me, starting to ululate,
I tried to stroke, touch them, to vellicate…
I think they may have escaped via St Peter’s gate,
Their bodies began to rapidly deteriorate…
They started to dissolve, one by one, demoniacal!
Is this real, happening, or maybe notional?
One went ashen, pasty, anaemic, demonical…
One shrank to nothing, all absorbable,
One cursed & swore at me, all abuseable!
Then exploded. Like a bursting bubble,
One blew me a kiss and said I was adorable.
I tried to hug her, but she was not touchable…
A ghostess, how can she be damageable?
She burst into flames, so she was destructible,
One turned to glass, she was vitrifiable…
Then found out she was also smashable,
An eerie hum all around started to bominate,
Then the nightmare… morningmare did vacate…
07:00hrs, by gum, I did sleep in late,
Fell off the bed, what’s next to tribulate?
The dream ending might compensate.
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But and however…
This blog was not started until Thursday evening. Wednesday & Thursday were not good for me, but Monday was not too bad at all.
Tuesday was troubled with many mini-seizures, each one with not good after-effects, which took a lot out of me, I’m afraid. Concentration was just not there, many accifauxpas, and
Dawned that regularly, each one seemed deeper than it really was. Tuesday is best forgotten anyway, so the lack of photos or memories of what happened explains the lack of detail in the scrawny Tuesday section.
Wednesday’s cock-ups ensured me that , bless him, he was again a frequent visitor. Many things will be out of sync and order, sorry. Last night’s lack of sleep, due to
And his ranting, perpetual criticisms of yours truly, made any proper sleep an impossibility. At least the seizures, only two, were lengthy. I judge from the ease and the incredibly short time it took me to recover each time.
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I gave up trying to sleep. Assuming it was about 04:00hrs, but soon found out, after taking of the night bag and going to the wet room to tackle the morning ablutionalisationings… as Carer Manpreet came in it to the flat, that it was actually gone 07:00hrs! WE got the Health Checks done & recorded, and the medications were issued.

Calendar changed, tea brewed.

Morrison order.
Moved them into the kitchen.
Treats!
Favourites.
Fridge loaded.

Afternoon seizures.

Evening shot.

Memory, Jet Black Blank
Seizures were having a heyday.

Morning shot, I think.

Evening shot, I think.

Just a guess at this rating.

Another stormy night’s sleep. If it wasn’t for my taking a bashing from , I may well have still been in bed when the Carer came again.
I decided to force my reluctant body from the bed, primarily, to get a painkiller, to counter the pain from Shirley’s worst-ever night-attack.
I didn’t make it. I’m not sure how long it lasted, but it wasn’t long. I could tell after it was all over by the acid reflux coming up in my chest, throat, mouth, and nose, and it was taking so long for me to recover fully. Although, to be honest, I don’t think I did get back to normal, if anything about me can be called normal, (Hehe!) Until 17:00hrs, or so.
My plan, formulated this morning, was to get things ready for when Ejaz arrives, go with me to the opticians, and then do as much as I could in the time left, working on the replacement word list.

Carer Manpreet arrived, and she checked that the HC return figures had been recorded correctly. Medications were given. A gaping blank spot in my memory. I assume I’d had a seizure, but Manpreet didn’t tell me… or I didn’t hear or remember her saying. The state I was in after each one today is no surprise. I got on with the word listings for an hour or two. To my utter amazement, an Asda delivery arrived. What? Another food delivery? Beats and worried me.
Cheesey cobs. cheesey wriggles, and some iced bread rolls. I tried to gain access to my vacant memory void, to work out when and why.
Come to think of it, I may have got the delivery days wrong, sort of back to way, on the wrong days. They may have been the other way around. Or, not.
Topped up with waters of various types. It’s costly having to keep swigging a minimum of three litres every day to keep the bladder working.
Meat pies with shortcrust and puff pastry tops. Polish cooked smoked ham, Nurses drinkies, and some bacon bits, erm… lardons they are called.
Blimus, I’ve got the fridge and freezer crammed full again. But of course, the social lady promised me help with this problem. Also, with the finances, when I get home from the hospital. Assured me of help with the ‘spent a fortune’ on wheelchairs… getting them appropriately fitted and safe to use.
Age Concern said… Oh, forget them. I’ve not heard anything from any of them! I’m disappointed and feeling a smidge uncared about, to say the least.

Carer Mizra, then Carer Ejaz, arrived. Mizra departed after medicating me and seeing that things were alright. Ejaz and I got down to the Opticians only to find that we had arrived too late and they could not test my eyes. Ejaz dealt with the receptionist, and they made another appointment for next Wednesday. How we got the wrong time beats me. Ejaz has always taken care of them for me. Sadly, my eyes are getting worse, and later I checked on the HHS site – bad news. It said that if you do not catch it in time, it cannot be repaired. Great! Now it will be another week before the test, and the optician can refer me to the EENT!
The eye is getting worse each day, and I’m struggling at times. Nothing new there then.
Ejaz and I returned to the flat, and he put the laundry in the washer. Mopped the kitchen for me, and went to get the laundry into the dryer, and realised it had not finished washing. So left it until his subsequent call to collect it for me. Off he went; he’d done the best he could on my behalf.

I pressed on with the word listings, and Ejaz returned to fetch the laundry for me, and he hung it up on hangers. Night medications given.

I started making a template up for this 3-day blog… and realised it was gone 23:00hrs!

Better get something to eat.

🤎 TTFNski! 🤎

Inchie Today: Saturday 22nd November 2025

21/11/202523/11/2025 / Inchie / 6 Comments

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I was sat-sitting in my broken recliner chair, Ftrali
And the community nurse did appear,
Took off the leg straps, checked Lymphoreoa Leslie,
Left leg fine, right leg was a little bloody,
The right leg was medicated with cream & a plaster,
Replace socks & straps, easy for her to master,
I like this retired nurse, the twinkling of her eyes…
A no-fuss gal, who seems very wise,
My adoration, I could not disguise,
Of course, I only imagined her thighs…
Or she’d laugh at my miniature size,
It would only end sadly with sighs,
Naturally, I could only apotheosise,
All I could do was to eulogise,
Whenever she calls, she beautifies…
Even though my pulse may rise,
With my disabilities, there’s no compromise,
Why I feel this way, I need to analyse,
At my age, this urge to harmonise…
With nothing below to energise,
I feel as if I should apologise,
My body can no longer mutually synchronise,
If I say I accept this, it would all be lies,
All I can do nowadays is to fantasise,
Been waiting to be trephinated for 102 days,
Glaucoma operation, I’ve lost count of the days!
Silence from the neurologist diagnosing my seizures,
Broken knee, catheter, hearing problems, arthritis,
Lymphorrhoea, colour-blind, and duodenal ulcers,
My left wrist, hand, and fingers had five fractures,
Tried veganism, vegetarianism, cereals and pulses,
A Labour Government, full of fakesters,
Begging for help, but getting no answers,
In the hospital, I had several unfulfilled promises,
From Neurology, Cardiac, & Social Services,
A surgeon will need good eyesight to circumcise
There were threats made against the nurses,
From a bloke face-to-face, emitting curses…
I was stick-walking with the physiotherapists,
I got involved when the man clenched his fist,
Told him, ‘Do that again, you’ll get my fist’,
He went quiet. I think he got my drift,
The nurse thanked me for my intrusion,
That patient is suffering ego-depletion,
Is this ward for those with damaged grey matter?
Anyway, the man gave the nurses no more bother,
Getting back from the hospital last month? Dystopian!
I’d been to see my neuropathy diagnostician,
I got lost trying to get to the tram,
Had to ask some “Where am I?’,
How to get to the tram station?,
I got there after some extravasation,
The ticket machine brought confusion into the equation,
Passengers were squashed in the tram so tightly…
Just getting into it was a Hell of a fight…
Will I ever get home tonight?
Then I suffered a heck of a fright!
The tram moved of and I took a tumble,
Help from others made me feel humble,
Two passengers helped me up without exhortation,
They caught me mid-fall, avoiding emasculation,
A lady gave me her seat without vacillation,
In the City Centre, yobboes were the danger,
Schoolkid gangs, I had to walk on tramlines, however…
I struggle up to the bus top, with great endeavour,
Checked the 40 bus times, none, only 40x?
This one did not call into the flats, oh boyee!
Dark outside, lit-up inside, I couldn’t see,
Which bus stop was the one for me?
Ended up in Sherwood, nine stops away,
Had to walk back up Windcheste Street, steep and hilly,
Help by using my four-wheeled walker trolley,
Many stops, as I went breathlessly…
Getting a cellphone call, and silly me…
Dropped in in the darkness, dearie me!
Got home to find Elaz waiting, worried!
Carer Ejaz by name, and Carer in reality!
I suppose I should mention my banality?
Dullness, unoriginality or predictability…
No, not predictability, that would be silly…
Certainly not descriptive of Inchie,
Seizure, tumbles, &, ailments with unpredictability,
Why can humankind not live with congruency?
A question of imbecility, verging on stupidity,
Each incident, occurrence, and contingency,
Can pop up suddenly, unexpectedly…
No one can be completely accident-free,
Politicians used to act collectivistically,
Is the coming Apocalypse be cataclysmically?
Societal collapse, to humankind, devastatingly?
I don’t view it as a catastrophe,
Politicians becoming deific…
They really do make me feel sick,
See the end, as being welcome and terrific!,
It’ll come soon, but I can’t be specific.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Sorry, but it’ll be short and sweet. Time is thy enemy.
Well, he is mine. Hehehe!

Morning shot from the kitchen

No visit to the Porcelain Throne until late evening. But I felt it brewing up in the afternoon.
Tiny escapages that stunk awful, putrid!
I’m expecting a Trotsky Terence affair later.

Carer Ejaz did the first two calls. Body checks, Phorpain gelling, Barrier creaming tended to.

Midday Darkness?

Oh, I nearly missed this one.
The end of the car park.
🎵Where have all the pappaps gone?🎵

NOSH
Faggots in gravy, & mashed potatoes.
I peeled & cooked a beetroot, then chopped it, added some of the gorgeous Krakus red beetroot, concentrated borstch, and some pork gravy, mixed it all up, and cooked it in the microwave for 6 minutes.
I’ve redeveloped a fancy for faggots lately. The Parsley Box ready meals have great tasting gaggots… no, I meant faggots, not maggots… I made a grammatical mess of typing that! I thought I’d just leave it in. Sad! Hehe!