Tuesday 13th September 2022: Inchcock Today

POLITICAL CARTOON
WHAT HAVE WE DONE?
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The normal nodding off and waking up in a semi-panic, what felt like every few minutes, went on for hours. Eventually, I woke up in a rather desperate and sudden need of a wee-wee!
I fumbled about to get to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) in time... Embarrassment and self-hatred all at the same time… I failed to make it! The main reason was the discomfiting . Which came on before I’d got the PPs down… so that was a good thing. Even better was the way with which the Comfort pants contained the leaking liquid. Had I got the PP’s down before it came, I would have been in an even bigger mess! I clasped the lower regions and somehow got to the wet room with the wooden walking stick, and I used the WC. Despite the bladder letting me down again, I found some appreciation in how the PPs coped with it. I was pleased that I changed to these Depend pants now, more than ever. While cleaning things after taking the tinkle and refreshing my body, the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived. As I sat, alternating between trying to do the crossword puzzle and counting the cracks on the ceiling, as I awaited the cement inside to move, I realised how late it was! 06:45hrs!
Bit of panic then. I’d got s Sainsbury order coming this morning, twixt 06:00 > 10:00hrs, so I may miss it if I’m stuck sat on the Throne when it comes!
I foolishly, mayhaps, tried to force things along with all my might. Once it did start to move, it was swiftly over but so painful. And poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids were bleeding badly, externally and internally. However, now having some Germoloid to hand, I could clean things up again and ease the stinging. Which I hastily did.
I tried the water taps again on the sink to see if the promised repair would provide me with hot water. Nope, just the tepidness once again.

By the time I’d sorted, washed and got dressed, leaving the door open in case the intercom rang, Richard, came in. He was in a rush again, but that did not stop the lad when he heard my tale of the hot water from calling the maintenance to get someone out yet again to look at it. Bless him.
Just before he left, the intercom rang, and I asked him if he wanted to wait to get the treats that were on the order. No, he had to go, up to the neck in it. Fair enough. Tanked him as the delivery was arriving.
I got the goods checked and returned some podded peas that had a sell by today tag on them. The brown sourdough loaf looked tasty – not to make sure there are no sliced fingers. Hehe!

The flowers for the wardens were what I’d call rustic yellow and red. Got some strawberries for them and chocolates, only need to add some cans of plonk. I rang Deana, but no answer; it might be a little early yet? Burgers for Richard.

Which I did.
Glad they had the Germoloids in stock. They didn’t have any of the Parmentier potatoes, Huh! I got stuff stored away, and I intended to get the Health Checks sorted out. Tried calling Deana again to tell her the nibbles had arrived, no reply.
Made my first brew of the day, a mug of Thompson’s Punjana. I forgot about doing the blood pressure and called Warden Julie, and I told her of the goodies ready to collect. Then, I got on the computer to update and post the Monday blog. The tea had gone cold. So I went to the kitchen to make another mashing.
In came Julie, quickly followed by Deana. I missed out on a natter cause they were talking between themselves, and I could not hear what about. Spit! I think I told them about the hot water.

Was busy making something mechanical, noisily.

It seems the hot water problem the Nottingham City Homes Maintenance could not solve has been passed on to a company called T&S.
Not that this chap could solve it for sure.
When I asked him what the problem was, he was honest enough to tell me he had no idea. all the tests he carried out showed it should be working properly. The only thing he’d changed was the thermostat, and he turned it up a smidgeon.
Well, three hours later, the water was indeed hotter. Nothing like as hot as it used to be, though, but I should be able to have a shave and shower in the morning.

What happened to the day? Nowt was done much, evening carer due shortly. Meal To get done. I’m going to make a chilli stew for myself. And will do my best not to cut any parts of my anatomy, slicing the sourdough bread to dip into the food. Hehe! I’ll it the meal prepared then… Oh, I’ve not done the Blood Pressure yet. I imagine it will be the opposite of yesterday’s panicking high? It does that a lot, up and downing.

Ah, much betterer indeed.
In fact, overall, one of the best for ages, methinks? ‘
I bet when I do the BP Graph site, it will be down low in the amber zone.

There, what did I tell yer? Two extremes in two days.
Ah, well, food preparation time for me.
I can’t help but think I’ve missed or forgotten something? Mmm!


ANOTHER INCHCOCK GASTRONOMIC DISASTER! What was I thinking about? How can even I; make so many cock-ups making just one meal?
Easily seems to be the answer! The good bit first, I didn’t cut any fingers slicing the sourdough bread… fair enough, I did drop the loaf, and did Back-Pain-Brenda no good at all, bending down to clear up the crumbs; then knocked the knife off of the counter. But it missed me. just blunted the tip of the knife.
It took me that long to clear up the crumbs; I lost more time trying to straighten the tip of the knife than I had to reheat the stew in the microwave.

The first spoonful indicated one of the reasons for the almost uneatable flavour I’d conjured up. (I looked in the waste bin later and realised this was true). I’d added a can of baked beans to the chilli stew, but think I put curry-flavoured beans in the pot, not plain ones!
I ate some of it, all the sourdough brown bread that was nice. I was soon back in the kitchen, putting the ¾s of the meal I’d not eaten into food bags to go to the chute in the black bags.
Where more causes of the calamity were discovered. The pot of BBQ seasoning I added was actually basil: the pot was still out on the top. Alongside it should have been a bottle of BBQ sauce from which I added a sludge or two to the meal… no, but there was a bottle of balsamic vinegar?
I shudder to give the taste rating any score at all it would have had to be a minus score. However, the sourdough bread was delightfully tasty. 1.2/10.

I washed the pots in the nearly hot water from the tap, and I got a packet of seaweed crisps to nibble and settled into the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige coloured, Harold Haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable from, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner, and went into a gloriously dream-filled sleep.

Jodie came in, not ringing the doorbell again. She hovered over my prostrate but crumpled adipocerous bellied body, giving out a loud but cheerful “How are you, okay?” I’m not sure if I answered or not! The visit was a blur, really.

I had planned to get up later and make a start on updating this blog… I meant later in the night. But I drifted off again, and I got another five hours of sleep in!
Waking at 03:35hrs, in need of a wee-wee.

Inchcock Today – Just a graphic wot I made

Billum treats Inchcocks Ailments!

Bill & HRH

Lobotomy Sorted Out The Problems

HRH Lisa, Problem Sorter Outer, Ether-Carer to Inchcock, Electrician & Nurse (and a cracking looker) was at hand throughout the operation. First Aid box at the ready. Backing up professor Billum all the way.
The electrics and life monitorings were handled by Alan.

Billum prepared for the removal of the brain. Amazingly, Inchcock felt not a single pain! He was put at rest, by HRH covering his head area in Phorpain, and giving him an iced lolly.
The kindness showed by Billum, was gobsmacking. (They actually had to smack his gob to bring him round later, when refitting the brain and reattaching his head; but that’s for part two to come later.) Billum had thought of everything beforehand, he’d been planning this procedure for over two days, in his glasshouse laboratory.
He explained that when the brain comes out, Inchcock may not notice any difference, but not to worry.

Because a false moustache, spectacles, hearing aids, a missing many teeth plastic mouth, and a BO spray would be adorned on the brain straight away; so that it would feel at home without Inchcocks mass of blubber and accoutrements surrounding it.
He even supplied mini-walking sticks, crutches, and had the foresight to keep giving the brain a clout now and then, so, as he named him, Brian the Brain would not miss Inchcocks pains from tumbles, walking into things ad the desperate pain from the overactive bladder, Brilliant!

I’m afraid this will have to be caught up with later, because Inchcock’s eyes are too bad to continue, sorry. He may have to skip a blog or two, or just put a few words on. The poor old git is not too good at the moment. The eyes and bladder are the two main reasons.

Professor Billum started with Inchcock’s worst affected area, naturally the brain, but Billum had to take it out first.

Cheers, each.