Inchie Today: Thursday 30th October 2025

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I can reveal to you what lies ahead…
More wars, millions of innocents dead,
Millions born, who can’t afford to be fed,
Sheltering in the gutter, they have no bed,
Compassion will soon be exhausted,
Crooked leaders will be acquiesced,
Putin’s underwater nuclear weapon test,
Trump claims his will be the best…
Starmer issues teachers with a stab vest,
Victims remain alone, uncounseled, 
UK’s PM Starmer is so uncredentialled, 
But he got in power, the voters were fooled,
His lies have gone all unattributed,
His robbing of pensioners is unappreciated,
His future will be undiverted…
By truth, h
onesty, he’ll stay subverted,
His lies seem to be accommodated…
And still he’ll get backhanded!
His actions will not be totally whitewashed, 
In a
short time, humankind will be kyboshed,
The world will be aureoled…
The planet is destroyed; well, it is getting old,
Going to the moon to escape may be attempted,
But there’s no point, you may be annoyed…
But our Universe will also be destroyed,
Leaving a rather large void,
Could it be rebuilt by a Martian Zoid?
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Up at 05:00hrs, and hastily removed the night catherter bag, and even hastlier fumbled my way to the wet for a Canstipation Konrad evacuation, I’d managed to get a little cut on my finger somehow, so ran it under the tap and dried it off, then got down on the plastic seat of the Porcelain Throne.
It took me ages to force things out, and a couple of rock-hard follow-ups.

Friday morning: Got up, cleaned the mess in the kitchen, then opened WordPress.
ARRRGH! 

All the blog had partly disappeared, except for up to ‘rock-hard follow-ups’ on the page! ???
I’ve not got the heart to do it all again. Hours of work lost – along with the mini-disasters, which I will put on again, but not in so much detail.
I’ll start them here; the photos are out of sync.

Just a drop of urine overnight?

The mug of tea to see,
Ended up on the floor.
Via my dressing
Gown, knee & me!

No photo for this one —the second-most-annoying of the day. I was tired, it was late, and I’d still not done the ablutions due to my repugnant habit of leaving the hot tap running. I was making up some Catheter Cathy spring water, and picked up the grapefruit juice to add to it… I dropped the bottle, and I don’t think there was any part of the kitchen floor that didn’t get a taste of the fruit cordial as it spread.
No less than four kitchen rolls were dropped on the juice, in hopes of containing it.
I tried treading on it to help soak up the juice and collect some from the floor.
Paracetamol, Codeine and fizzy Paracetamol followed. And I had to cope with , from all the bending down. I almost, nearly, well, thought about going into a . But after I’d emptied the catheter pouch and returned to the kitchen, the floor was so sticky that it had to be mopped. After mopping, it was still sticky, and I almost lost a slipper as it stuck to the floor! I used a vinegar-based spray on the floor, and gently dropped some paper towels down. I left it to hopefully dry unstickily before making a meal.

Deciding the floor must be checked, I thought I’d make a brew of tea if the floor was dry and not sticky. It was tacky. I kept to the right of the kitchen—the less messy bit—to make the tea…
Joined in with , with affecting my right hand, I crushed and then dropped the packet on the floor. Genuflecting again to pick them all up, I’d got about 80% of them, then realised they could well have come into contact with the bleach, vinegar and floor cleaner that I’d been using
on the tiles! I threw them away, not wanting to risk using them.

I took a snap of the view from the window
as I prepped the meal of the day.

I fell asleep while eating the meal and was woken by Carer Mirza, who needed to be admitted.
A nice lad. I mentioned the visit to the Neurosurgeon and gave him my mobile. I asked Mirza if he could read it and tell me how I should respond. Which he did, and I followed, and a minute later, I got an email thanking me for replying. After Mirza had departed, with my thanks for helping, I received another message from Neurosurgery.
They will post me details and instructions along with an appointment number (needed if I am to use the Hospital Transport).

Carer Ejaz did the last call and read the message just received. Hopefully, the letter with the necessary details will arrive in time for me (Well, a Carer) to book a lift with Hospital transport.

Another Almost Typical Day, Humph!


MAY FORTUNE FAVOUR YOU!

Inchie: Friday 29th August 2025

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Random things that can yet, or did, make me happy…
From memory, diaries, and some even theoretically,
At 14, a Lady of forty took my cherry,
Which I loved, but why? It confused me,
Which life has done, ever since, diurnally,
Later, developing a natural negativity,
Cynicism, defeatism, and despondency,
This helped me cope with life’s adversity,
At birth, Mother said, ‘Throw it away’,
Life would have been a little shorter…
but have gone less
problematically,
Am I losing the plot of the faux-poetry?
No, it’s just my affected memory…
In old age, my teeth are rotting away…
Diabetes Don, Anne Gyna, Cartalige Chloe,
Duodenal Donald, Toothache Tiffany,
Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Peggy,
Myoclonic-Seizures-Sid, Peripheral Neuropathy,

Inchy’s
Fungal Lesion, & Lymphorrhea Leslie,
Méniere’s disease, Episodic-Ataxia-Ellie,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids, Eric’s Eczema,
Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, mentally,
Earache Eric, Whoopsiedangleploppery,
Herings aids, both needing a battery,
Ingrowing toenails; Unguis Incarnate Nelly,
Mechanic Ticker Trevor and Reflux Valve Rene,
Newly-diagnosed Hydrocephalus-Harry,
They don’t overbother me, individually,
For they are all a part of me, intrinsically…
Even when affecting me painfully or cripplingly,
Coping with a warped brain & disabled body,
Getting through each day makes me happy,
Another secret, to help you feel less crappy,
Concentrate on hexing Starmer (the Iffy),
His soundbites on isonomy prove his inanity,
He rules crappily, but has got inexpugnability,
Taking backhaners from the Oligarchy,
No one can deny his lies & criminality,
I pray for a political solution, philosophically,
We can do nothing legally curatively,
I’m only thinking this whimsically…
I’m hoping he dies painfully…
very slowly and in utter agony,
Tomorrow perhaps? Hopefully,
That’d make me overjoyedly happy!

TODAY’S COCK-UPS

I tell you now of my discontent,
Why is my life so abhorrent? 
Whoopsiedangleplops Accifauxpa torrent,
Unsolvable Problems & ailments,
The computer, now an inconvenience!
No help from anywhere,
Its memory is now bare,
Tonight, CorelDraw died,
My depression cannot be denied,
I managed to save some graphics & photos,
Got old ones, I’ll have to use those,
Struggling with this Odes prose,
Made an order by mistake on Amazon.
Tried to cancel it, reply waited on,
Already got my lowest ever bank balance,
Find a Solution? I haven’t had a chance!
Will it let me update this blog? I’m not yet sure,
All my problems, not one cure!
I feared being forced into an old folks’ home,
At this moment, I realise that I’d not be alone,

Financially, physically, and mentally sick!
In the morning, I woke up in a seizure,
And then came the morning Carer,
Of which ther
e is little I can remember,
It may be the end of my blogging,
I don’t know yet if this blog will be saved,
But after all my work in creating…
If not, it’s going to be so gauling,
I’m hoping that CorelDraw will be loading,
Not confident, just hoping,
The wheelchair ordered is self-propelling,
The standard one, I got it four weeks ago,
But no Carer has taken out, though,
When I get paid for the self-propeller,
And get it inspected by a Carer,
I can get out and feel freer,
But what I do now fear,
By the time it’s checked & inspected,
I might be too old to use it, well dated!
Still no appointment made for the Audio Clinic,
No delivery of the Diabetic osenitic,
I’m feeling so depressed and sick!
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Up 05:55hrs. Urine was a 5 on the Richter scale. 

Views taken from the balcony
End car park.
Towards Mansfield Road
Towards the park
Left, front car park & flat balconies

Had a bit of a mini seizure that lasted seconds, I thought. That’s a guesstimate. After the seizure, a little out of it, I made a mug of Detox tea and tended to my ablutions. Then shelled some garden peas to nibble cold and add to the planned stew tonight.

To the intercom to let in Carer Ejaz. Who did a fair job for me this morning? Diabetic socks were put on.  
Medications were given.

I started to do the blog.
I noticed I’d not changed the date on the clock.
Got a mug of proper tea, and the peas to nibble. Seeing that I had still not changed the date on the clock. So, I did!

Started to update yesterday’s blog.
I got into it and felt the catheter bag drop; the urine pouch was full to the brim, and the weight of the bag tugged the tube in little Inchy. I believe I may just have used some naughty language.
Just look at the amount of urine that came out. The bag is a 200ml one, but the jug indicates it is 400ml. No wonder it felt down.

I got a call to say that an ambulance was on its way to see me. No idea why? 

Sister Jane rang me. It was hard work without the hearing aids. I’d been trying to book an appointment for 4 weeks with the Carers. But no joy. I moaned a little about things to her. And she moaned back about her problems. Hehehe! And told me off, of course.

The intercom chimed. The chap came in with an electric scooter. I thought at first it was a Red Cross man bribing it for me – what a clot! It was a Carer, Ahbul. I showed him the wheelchair on the balcony and moaned that no Carer had taken me out on it yet; in fact, it hadn’t been fully erected and checked for safety yet. The lad departed, and I’d been talking (I talk a lot nowadays, mainly to myself and my alter ego, Inchie) about the wheelchair. I went on the balcony and checked out the disabled machines.
The four-whelled walker.
The new wheelchair, unused to date. Fitted a cushion on it. Searched around with the aid of the impractical, worthless manual, which had such tiny printing that it was really of no value.
At least the cushion fitted. I found where the passenger brakes were and tried them. Crude tinny metal, but they worked.
Then had an in-depth, almost pointless perusal of the mwinenace/instruction manual. I think it might have been for the wrong model. As you can see in the photo I took, this is for a self-propelled model with large wheels.
This model has tiny wheels.
However, the thought of having a self-propelled one and the advantage of not needing an expensive Carer to push me means I perhaps could get to the Social Room in the other block of flats, Winwood Court, and have a chat with others. Maybe, perhaps, possibly. Or not. There’s bound ot be a difficulty in getting one on the NHS, but I felt one would benefit me.
So, I went to the Amazon site to investigate.
The prices ranged from £69 for a child. Up to £3,999 for a Sports Model. The ones that caught my eye were those with pad-cusions for the back of the legs, which was the first criterion I adopted. Many of them had a strap across the front of the frame. These pads claim to be better for people with diabetes. So, I went through all 44 pages of what I searched for: self-propelled wheelchairs with brakes at the front and back. (Leg pads in brackets)
Five at £184, one at £148. The £184 ones all looked the same model. The £148 did not have handbrakes for the pusher. This was the only difference that I could find. Then, I checked the comments about the £148. Not good. 2.5 rating overall. I was going to check the comments for the £184 one, but Carer Nizra arrived and I forgot all about checking. 

Then the mobile rang. The £35-a-bash toenail cutter was on its way up to me. 

When I got back on the computer, I found that I’d ordered the £148 wheelchair. Nobody told me… except Amazon, in an email. I went to Amazon to cancel the order. The message said, ‘We will try to cancel it, let you know, and advise you.

The gal got my nails cut, and we managed a little chat and a laugh.
Look at the time already!
A fantastic site, no, sight!

Off to the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence led the session, but not as dominantly this time.

When I got back in the front room, I was pretty ashamed of the mess in there.

I made up the meal for later on, one of my off-the-cuff stews, or whatever they should be called. Masses of garden peas, other vegetables, chopped some water chestnuts into it, and added Bovril. I had some bread left over that wasn’t too hard for dipping.

Turned off the computer and had only put on today’s cartoon. So far behind again.

CALAMIY, FEAR, MORE DEPRESSION DARIUS!
I couldn’t save the work I’d done in CorelDraw.
Not enough memory available!
I went to make a brew to help me think through my options available to rescue things.

Despite my morseness, I still took these snaps of the view from the kitchen window. Not even knowing if I can use them or not. Proof that I need help!
As if I didn’t know beforehand already!

The meal came out well.

I went to wash the pots, and yet again, possibly wasted my time taking this last snap.
Still, it’s worth it, a bit of nature.

Another day of Depression & Frustration,
Seizures, errors just never lessen,
This should teach me a lesson…
To get mental rest, do I need absolution?
Mistakes, lost words, or an anachronism…
Forgetfulness, confusion, an aphorism,
It’s months since my last cachinnation,
Life once livable is now a damnation,
Today I felt as if I was forsaken…
Of course, I could have been mistaken,
No help, hope, or satisfaction…

High Mood Horis was missing in action,
So many things, to curse or gurn in reaction,
I’m depressed, more than a fraction…
I find life & living, all a guesstimation!

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I REALLY HOPE I’LL BE BACK!
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Sorry, I’ve had so little time to get on the WP Reader & Comments. It’s been even busier than usual lately. And I’ve not started writing Saturday’s blog yet.