Inchcock Diary: Yesterday & Today

Inchcock Yesterday & Today Diary

Due to Doreen’s Dementia, my excellent ability to forget things and get more confused daily, my ailments, the computer card reader, and CorelDraw difficulties, I’m mentally in a state.

Not to mention Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet persistent going down. (Oh, I did say it!)

So this will not be as visually appealing as usual. And most likely, with happenings out of sync with each other and scarcity of photographs on offer. Also, my terrible memory-aid scribblings/writings on the notepad are somewhat unreadable. Messy, rushed… Tsk! Here I go…

MONDAY

Up at 04:00hrs: First sentence on pad undecipherable with these cataract eyes. Tried to upload photos, but no go. Wee-wee, a mug of tea… (Another unreadable few lines). Blogging, terrible internet connection again as Sunday was. Four hours to update the first part of the blog for Saturday & Sunday. Wee-wee.

Then Carer Richard arrived. Lifeline check. (Illegible) Wash and medicationalisationing. Stubbed toe.

Tea, another wee-wee. Got the ode finished at last. WP comments. WP Reader, Emailed blog link and Picts, then did Facebooking.

Tried to get photos on but failed again. But not surprising as Liberty-Global Virgin Media kept dying on and off!

Made a start on the News snippets blog. (Notes were as clear as mud)

Herbert started tapping and knocking with the odd crashing noises thrown in with all the problems.

I phoned Deana about the TV licence text. (Unfathomable writing for two paragraphs, Huh!) I hope she will call tomorrow to pick up the money.

CorelDraw problems. Josie returned the tray from Sunday, she did say she enjoyed the meal but did not mention the Woo-Woo, so it’s back to G&T for her next week. Hehe!

The Idaho pot potatoes were delivered. Late now. What to have for nosh later… couldn’t decide but I fancy trying one of the potatoes? Stored them with the others and noodles.

Back on the blogging, and…

(More indistinct squawl on the notepad). Net came back on, and I tried blogging again… so slow, I gave up.

Carer Valerie arrived. We got the medications taken and had a minute or so natter.

I made this odd-looking meal. A pot of noodles, a pot of potatoes and a cake. First time I’ve tried these pot spuds. They claim to have vegetarian sausage and gravy in them. Gravy? I could see nor taste any… not that I was bothered, cause they still tasted great to me! Flavour Rating: 6.8/10.

Head down, and was soon off in the arms of Sweet Morpheus, a nice change!

TUESDAY

A better night this time. Only woke up about five times and felt better than usual when I did!

I stirred back into ersatz life around bout 06:15hrs. Not feeling as bad as I usually do. Of course, I’d have at least six hours kip, which was why I felt perkier, I imagine? As I rose, I took this snap through the balcony window of the bottom field on Woodthorpe Grange Park.

Had a wee-wee. Maybe a cystitis infection, mayhaps. Regrettably, it was still reluctant and just a smidge painful, needing an effort on my behalf to force things along. But no problem with how I felt, which was livelier than for a while.

I checked the taps and heating as I went to get the kettle on. Made up a waste bag, and I was off to the wet room.

Got the Blood Pressure machine, the sphygmomanometer as its clever name is. Hehe!

SYS was a little high, 157, and DIA at 67. But the pulse seemed okay.

The NHS graph said it was only in the High zone, so it’s nowt new there. My Chinese (Hong Kong) by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, a contactless thermometer, gave a satisfactory result at 34.8°c.

What a great session that was! Did the nasals and eye drops. Some of the drops actually got into the eyes! Hehe! Cleaned the teggies. Then got in the shower… a potential high-risk area for me. But, no bother this morning! No dizzies, no banging into anything! No toe stubbing! No bleeding from shaving either!!! 

This may be hard for anyone to believe… but I assure you it is true.

I got the socks on via the deadly, injury-causing Sock-Glide-Glenda – only one tiny knick on the thumb… no bleeding, no bruising either!

So, no cuts, shaving, no falls, toe-stubbing… I felt that good; I could have crushed a grape!

I got fully dressed (Including trousers!) I’d just started on the computer, and Richard arrived very late. The lad looked done in, but he didn’t complain, nor did I. He sorted out the tablets first. Had a mini-natter, took his freebies on my insistence and shot off with my best wishes and thanks for being given him. Oh, and instructions to get himself to bed ASAP!

I made a brew of JS Extra Strong Tea and sorted the laundry out for when Esther comes. Back on the computer. But stopped when it went down yet again.

I took a snap of the end of Chestnut Way car park. Red Van Man is his usual, technically, illegal parking space on the chevrons; Little Red Car driver nearly got it right, as did Light-Blue Car Driver. I think Grey Car Driver got fed up with trying?

Then, the Iceland man cometh – with the order I was convinced was due on Thursday, but it wasn’t. This goes to show how convincing and positive Doreen’s Dementia can be! Tsk!

Iceland had sent the wrong potatoes, but that is nothing not done many times before. The brown rolls were squashed flat. The Guatemalan sugar snap peas had a few mouldy ones in the packet, but were two days in date? The box of lemon treats was also crushed. So, all normal, then!

The strawberries were okay. I got the things put away, bread in the freezer, cobs and other bits in the cupboards so I can forget where I put them into the fridge for most things this afternoon. Then I set about sorting the freebie nibbles. I got a good few cans of various plonks in, the special price ones, mostly. Laid them out on the top of the bookcase so they can help themselves to which they may fancy.

Then, the potatoes were ready to be morphed into cheesy baked potatoes. (This did not happen due to my being so worn out when it came to noshing time).

Esther arrived to do the washing. Had a chat of sorts as she got the stuff ready to go. The gal tends to talk when looking and walking away from me, and I miss a lot of what she says. Bless her.

I rang Deana to ask if she was coming to collect the money for the TV licence and mentioned the non-arrival of the door key replacement. She hopes to collect the money with ‘The Lady’? On Wednesday, she’ll check on the critical door key supply situation.

The Herbert symphony of tapping, clanging and buzzing kicked off. Only got a couple of hours. After that, it mainly was thudding as if something was being dropped on the floor.

Wash and medicating certain areas next. Little Inchies fungal lesion was the most painful, but it usually is. Argh!

Food! Tomatoes and two veg burgers in wholemeal cobs. I baked some of the small potatoes and halved them. I put some Ben’s Hickory Smoked Barbecue sauce in a small pot for dunking. A honey yoghourt followed. Taste: 7.6/10!

Put the wholly emptied food tray to one side and drifted off into a deep sleep. I’m sure I dreamed of something, but I can only remember it being enjoyable; I think Jillie was in there. And  ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chimed from the doorbell. It was Carer Valerie. Nice to see her, but disappointed in losing whatever I was up to in my dream. Hahaha!

After giving me the tablets, Valerie offered to wash the pots for me. I thanked her but declined the offer. Insisting, she took some nibbles, which she did, and she lifted the waste bag to the chute on her way, for me.

As I was washing the pots, the sky caught my little attention, and I took a picture with the canon on auto mode. I couldn’t load it; the SD card reader wasn’t working, but I tried again in the morning. I’ll put this photo on tomorrow’s blog cause when it did load, I thought it was amazing that I saw a fox’s face in the clouds.

Another decent, relatively pain-free session! Despite the torpedo’s mammoth dimensions and firm nature, no pain and no bleeding. I even got it out within a couple of minutes. Which was a rarity for me, most copacetic!

Got changed and settled down in the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, often crumb-covered tatty recliner. I pondered over should I try to watch some TV to help me drift off, and I turned on the telly. I was in the grasp of Sweet Morpheus within a minute! Insufflation!

The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe Series

Crowell Manor Laboratory Visit

CROWELL MANOR LABORATORY 102-Optical Solutioning

Crowell Manor Laboratories

The scientist & owner of the 46 laboratories, Billum; Master of Computational Finance, Master of Science in Teaching now retired. Has put his developments in his underground laboratories of a Time-Machine and Automatic Pickled Walnuts Slicer developments, experiments and creation on hold, all in the name of empathy and care of blogger Inchcock. Why? I’ll tell yer…

Billum invited Inchcock to come to his scientifically outstanding latest additional laboratory, dedicated to Medicationalistical ailments in the elderly. Having read the news about the Nottingham pensioner was having with his Cataracts, Glaucoma and Saccades in the sad old twits blog. He’s got plenty of his own, yet magnanimously and with great beneficence, Billum offered Inchcock to visit and “Have your Eyes Checked” in Laboratory 102, dedicated to Optical Solutioning! A marvellous offer and gesture, which the old Nottinghamian jumped at the eleemosynary offer. (Not literally, of course, jumping awake, yes, he can and does do… I’m waffling off of topic here again; sorry!)

Someone so far away, with his own ailments to cope with, and cares for others… That’s Billum! On arrival, they fed me, washed me, and we were soon going down to Laboratory-102. A fantastic, amazingly dazzling reception area… I think that his son Alan is the one who deals with the building side of things.

Billum’s other half, HRH Lisa, came in and gave me a sexy, pulse-prompting dance routine to the sounds of 1970s music. While Billum checked on Google, I assume to refresh his memory on cataracts, glaucoma and saccades?

It seemed like no time; it does when you are enjoying yourself. Before Billum took me through to his newest Laboratory-102.

He started his examination of my eyes…

Amid so many tests, prodding, probes and the usage of, to me, unidentifiable optical machines, some that played music, others that hummed, I smelt the perfume of my beloved (but don’t tell Billum) Sweet Petal, HRH Lisa… it was tantalising and moved my loins. Or maybe the painkiller that Petal Lisa gave me caused hallucinations? It contained Codeine, CBD and Cáñamo Hashish, whatever they are, but I felt no pain; they worked a treat!

I was spoilt rotten afterwards!

ODE TO THE VISIT

They sat me on a luxurious settee,
That was warming; they were lovely…
Served biscuits and a mug of Glengettie tea,
Petal Lisa came in and sat with me…
Billum was typing his assessment, you see…
The cats jumped up on my knee,
Petal Lisa, gemtly kissed me… ♥
I realised the tests done by Billum, for free!
I asked Petal Lisa if she wanted an adoptee?
Billum came in his report in hand and calmly…
Said, “It’s’ alright, you’ve got two eyes, not three!

That sort of puzzled and confused me…
Billum gave me a large bottle of CBD…
I went to take a wee-wee…
It didn’t flow very freely…
I said I know I’ve two eyes anyway…
Billum added, rather pleasantly,
Well spotted, and sent me away!

I make these blogs for Billum and Lisa, my Petal,
Not for anything that is epithetical…
But to raise a laugh, which to me is congenital,
For Billum, Alan and my precious Lisa Angelical!
I believe a laugh is as effective as hexobarbital,

Enough of this waffle,
I need another pittle,
Usually a painful trickle…
But releasing it is vital…
But having a laugh, trying to be comical…
To me, is worthy and commonsensical!
Even in this ode, that’s pathetical!

 Part of Inchcocks Make Them Laugh Series

Inchcock Today: A Dream Remembered

Inchcock’s Tuesday Diary & Dream Recollections

I woke around 04:20hrs: With some memories of the dream still prattling about in the brain. I lunged to get the notepad and pencil from the Ottoman; and realised they were lying between my legs, and well scribbled on, too! (Somnambulistic activity?) So I added the new bits to it and left the pages to be used later in my reminiscing of the ultra-weird dream.

Off into the kitchen, no taps, stove or lights had been left on. More amazingly, Shaking Shaun was not affecting the legs again! That’s been around eighteen hours of relief, now!

I took a photo of the clear dark morning sky. And decided not to make a brew of Glengettie, 99, or even the usual refreshing Thompsons Punjana tea; this bothered me!

Something was out of sync here this morning… most likely me! Summat up here! No shaking legs, no toothache, no desire for a mug of tea, not wanting a wee-wee…

However, I maintained my earlier om waking, almost gung-ho, hey-ho outlook, and just pressed on with updating the Facebook, catching up a bit with it anyway. I was humming the door chimes’ tune to myself, not in need of a cuppa, and as I thought I was also not in need of a wee-wee… the flow started. And continued approximately every fifteen minutes and was only taking the occasional swift swig of the spring water?

As I indicated earlier, things seem discrepant, incompatible, and incongruous today. Yet I am not put out by this… at the moment.

Working on Facebook, I came across last nights photograph of my meal. This brought back to me how tasty it was for once. Fresh garden raw peas from Nicaragua, tomatoes from Holland, sausages from Poland, chips from England, and part-baked oven cobs from Ireland. American BBQ sauce. An international feast! That I gave a Taste-Rating of 8.2/10!

I went on the WordPress reader, had a wee-wee, answered some comments, took a pee, readied this blog, had a slash, and the door chime chimed out its ♫Oh, Susana…♫ tune. It was the morning Carer came to sort out my medications. No messing with this gal, all done nada off in eight minutes, kindly taking the waste bags to the chute for me as she departed.

Minutes later, the ♫Oh, Susana…♫ tune chirped up again. This was the Sainsbury’s order arriving. Boy, had I ordered a lot or what? I’d got some cheapo eggs in. Ten for £1.10.

After taking in the items, I managed to get the chuckles into the fridge; first, there was only enough room, and I had to do a bit of jiggling around to get them into the fridge door.

They were mixed in sizes from diddly to small. Hehe! Not that it mattered to me. They were all a lovely deep brown colour.

I knew there was not much room in the freezer, so I only ordered some McCain flavour maker fries. Although I somehow managed to buy three packets of them… £9 spent there!

The first load of fresh stuff into the fridge were, Fresh peas and a milk roll loaf. Humph! Another cock up made, I’d obviously ordered three bags of potatoes, all of a different type.

Ready meal foods next. Five of the prepared meals; four Sausage in onion grainy and sweet potato mash, and one chilli and chips, all watchers, WW! Three packets of cooked bacon. (Guilty!)

Then the costly, naughty, wicked, and guilt-ridden things were put away. Oh, dearie me, yes! Three Lemon Cheesecakes. Mandarin pieces in orange jelly and two fresh cream eclairs… no, that should be doughnuts. Ahem! A substituted for lemon yoghourts. Lemon & Lime Possets. (Ahem!) I’ve never heard of these before, but on reading the ingredients: Double cream, whipping cream, lemon juice, lime juice, sugar, lemon zest, thickener, agar and cornflour – I realised how bad it was, and decided not to eat it, naturally.

I took the rubbish bags accrued by storing the fodder away to the rubbish chute room. Then it happened… The shaking and wobbling started again en route with the bags. Luckily I’d taken the stick with me; thus, I avoided having an Accifauxpa and tumble!

I can’t say the same thing for inside the chute room. Tsk! Nowt too lousy mind, just a trapped finger and back-Pain Brenda kicked off after I knocked the stick over and bent down to retrieve it. I’ve had a lot worse.

I got back in the flat and decided that if things were getting back to normal with the ailments, I’d take an extra painkiller now, have another wee-wee, and get the kitchen floor cleaned while I was still capable. So, I did!

BPB was not too happy with me, but she could have been a lot worse. Arthur Itis was almost nonexistent as I treadmilled mop bucket spinner. I did manage a toe-stubbing in the process, but only a mild effort, so I pressed on with the job, even humming a tune to myself?

Until I emptied the bucket down the lavatory; I gave myself a really good toe-stubbing then! It made me wince a little, and I just may have used a naughty word or two… perhaps, maybe.

That was bad enough, but then I dropped the bucket and got covered in the sweet smell of lemon disinfectanted but dirty water! I hit my knee with the mop stay and generally sank down from my previously almost cheerful state to a genuinely pissed-off with myself semi-depressed!

I was even angry with myself! I may well have growled and questioned my parentage! I’d gone from being practically flippant and almost uncaring, not concerned, to a deep depression instantly! My world had been turned on its head. I knew it had to happen! Back to the lucky bugger I am, that things being almost semi-content, just couldn’t last, and I knew it. Thinking this actually helped me to perk back up a smidgeon.

Go me and the place cleaned up, had a wee-wee, and got on the computer to start this blog. After five minutes, I was back at the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) with a lot of PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling). That needed shaking and wiping – and…

The door chime chimed again; I had to pack things away swiftly, as I saw a shadow had let itself in along the corridor, and I did not want to make whoever it was to laugh by displaying Little Inchy.

Esther, the cleaning lady, came in. Unfortunately, in my rush and haste to get Little Inchy undercover, his Fungal Lesion started bleeding! I couldn’t just leave her and get it medicated, but I don’t think she noticed anything she shouldn’t have. So, I had to grin and bear it.

The gal got straight on with gathering and taking the laundry for me. Esther returned after I’d cleaned and medicated Little Inchies problem. Now I had a little more pain to put up with!

But I coped well enough, back to the usual style of semi-coping and mild agony. Haha!

When Esther returned, I got the new ironing board unwrapped, and the gal got using it quickly. I was amazed at how fast she was doing the ironing for the first time on the new board.

She hung up the clothes in the hallway for me; bless her! After that, I got the chair covers back on and started to feel more my usual self.

Laundry down for me; bless her. A lot of what she said, a little too fast for me, and when I asked her what she said, the volume was too high, and her speed was the same. I hope I’ve not missed anything that was important? I thanked her, and she shot off. She’s a kind thing. ♥

So, I decided to get a mug of tea at last; as I stood up, shoeless, I trod on something hard, sharp and tiny. Can you believe it… I can, Hehehe! It was yet another escaped, dried like granite garden pea! How the heck do I not see or find them earlier? I’ve hoovered the carpet near the computer several times last and once this, and still, it gets missed! It must have been fled weeks ago, to be that hard? Ah, well!

It’s getting dark earlier than ever today. Took a snap of the end car park.

Then back to working on this blog. In between going for a leak, of course. Then fatigue dawned on me, so I stopped to get some nosh sorted.

As I was prepping the fodder, surprisingly, suddenly everything seemed to light up. The sun was having one last attempt at coming through, and I got the camera to snap it. Not a good effort, but still.

Sausages with a drop of onion gravy, carrot and leek potatoes, coiled potatoes finished off in the oven, fresh Nicaraguan garden peas, and a Lemon & Lime posset pot. Not as good as last night’s, but a score of 7/10 for flavour was given.

Washed the pots and back to the chair to eat the posset… Zzzz! Off into a deep sleep, I trundled and had the dream, as I had mentioned earlier…

.

I was in a shopping centre or big market. As I went along, it dawned on me that the three-wheel walker was behind me, and I was pushing a shopping cart ahead; I turned to look for a supermarket where I assumed I had taken the shopping trolley; from… Then noticed that the three-wheeler was following behind, under its own steam? Then as we came to an escalator, I hesitated, and other shoppers were getting annoyed, asking me what the problem was.

I said I can’t get on the escalator with two trolleys… and I got the oddest of looks, and people laughed at me. One woman asked if I’d escaped from somewhere?

“What’s its name?”

“Who’s?”

“The trolley you pillock!” “Tsk! are you poorly or what?”

“I call it my walker?” With which she snapped her fingers and commanded, “Walker… Fly! I thought, even in the dream, something’s not right here? But the three-wheeler raised up like a Darlek in Dr Who and flew gently down to the bottom of the escalator!!! Wait for me at the bottom!”

When I followed the others down, I realised that there were no moving steps, just a controlled cushion of air, that we were using?

And I could see down on the floor below, trolleys of all sorts waiting for their owners and running to their side when they got down. And mine did the same? seeing other folks sending the trolleys to get things from the shops, I tried it… “Walker, Boots, get a large tube of Germolene!” And of he waddled off to the Boots store…

A ganglet of young ladies surrounded me, asking for my signature, and would I sing them a song? Like pricking a bubble, instantly they were all gone?

I sat on a bench, trying to make sense of all this…

I was woken up by Carer Lisa. I didn’t mention the dream.

Lisa did the medications, and she shot off; she was busy tonight.

I got the computer back on and updated this blog.

It’s been an odd day… again!

The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe Series

 

Inchcock: Currently Up For Adoption

Inchcock: CURRENTLY UP FOR ADOPTION

Would You Adopt Someone Who Listens To Music by Ivor Novello?

A slightly sub-standard, bald, 75-year-old, born in a bordello,
A life-long Nottinghamian, with an IQ of barely above zero,
A recovering alcoholic, stroke and cardiac victim, and dipso,
A short chubby, well-bellied little thing has his own yo-yo,
Hoping that someone can show him how to use it, you know!
Inchcock has a thing for Marilyn Monroe, although…
His doing anything about this have long gone, thus his yo-yo!
He can cook, drop things, walk into them, oh, and he’s a Virgo!

He Falls over frequently, but with help, gets up, giving it another go,
In many ways, he plods on with his ailments; he’s a bit of a hero!
At least the last time we spoke at the hospital, he told me so,
He’ll tell you of when he climbed to the top of Kilimanjaro,
But in reality, it was a steep hill in Ludlow,
And, he drove up the mountain, in his Triumph Toledo!
Vascula Dementia confuses him; I think he still has some gusto…
For the ladies, but sadly, his desires have long been fallow,
But he does like a pot or slice of cake or a limoncello.

His momentary spells of reality sadden him; he feels low,
What’s happening to him in old age, he doesn’t want to know,
Back into his deep mental haze, he’s a semi-contented fellow,
Talk to him gently, and he’ll get the message, Roger-Wilko,
Owt you want him to do will usually follow,
Even if his words seem bewildering and hollow,
There will be times when he seems bright and tally-ho!
Don’t miss his medications whatever you do, though!

Ablutioning-wise, especially shaving, the blood will flow…
Neuropathy diagnosed, amazingly he can be a cheery bloke,
Occasionally, he thinks he’s Clint Eastwood or El Zorro,
His neuropathy has shaken his right side since the stroke,
He tries to stay calm and can start the day being mellow!

He still cooks, using black bean sauce and BBQ, even Tabasco,
Now he knows the firemen by name, Colin, Brian and Joe,
Please, don’t let him run-free in Aldi, Sainsbury’s or Tesco,
He’ll panic if he can’t find you and may freeze, ipso facto!
Please forgive any of his mishaps or unintended peccadillo.
If you do misplace him, just call the police or a medico.
But operating the TV remote control, he’s messy & ultraslow,

His confidence is getting low; of course, it will not regrow,
Like certain body parts that hang below…
At least he’s stopped wearing his bra and using eye shadow,
His new Protection Pants have saved many a fiasco!
He uses his picker-upper to retrieve things dropped below,
And is contented to on DVD, his 1960’s TV shows!

He’s harmless to anyone else, this I can guarantee,
Making others happy and smile is his forte,
He shows no signs of toxicity and has congeniality,
He can’t help forever going for a wee-wee…
And he would like someone to adopt him, desperately,
He realises this would not come for free…
But has a limited amount of money,
Which he doesn’t find very funny,
He is totally free of hate and is never sarkie!
So, if possible, can you help and make him your adoptee?
He makes a great mug of Glengettie tea!

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Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

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Coping with Old Age – Inchcock Style

Coping with Old Age – Inchcock Style

Wrote in SuPport of the fethaurus Users league

Like Corona Virus and wee-weeing, it comes to us all,

Like dizziness, madness and having many a fall,

You can’t prevent it, like a rainy squall,

It’ll come, Summer, Winter, Spring or Fall,

You might be having rumpy-pumpy, or playing beachball?

Football, tennis, baseball, trying to throw a curveball,

Or you could be summoned to the guildhall,

Nowt will stop ageing, for eternity, you may trawl,

But as I say, it doesn’t matter at all,

Ailments, disabilities, agony to recall,

Life is just a struggle and a brawl,

Unfairness, those who seem to have it all,

Money, good looks, who lives are a ball,

Even for them, live will stall,

Death is perfectly natural,

Mind you, them who live at Balmoral,

Though, lacking in some moral,

Live longer, that’s connatural,

It’s us commoner’s, with no collateral,

Who was accepting our being visceral,

But death, well, it’s gone viral,

For the underprivileged, hopes, are not transferable,

Though, commitment is not endurable,

Life is not so cheery, easy, or affable,

Things can get so bad, death is advisable,

But still, you must admit, it can be laughable!

I wish that humour was bequeathable,

And seeing the future was browsable,

Wouldn’t it nice, if death was cancellable!

Just a thought! – I had one in 1958 as well!