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My beloved Tree Copse: free of adversity,
I used to walk through it, daily,
Stopping to talk to a bush or tree…
Or a feral rat, a being-walked doggie,
Crows, insects, I once saw a garganey,
I loved these copse-walks initially,
But now I’m not up to it, even weekly,
I can see it from the flat’s balcony,
But it wrangles me intractably,
My health I consider detestationally,
I can’t even walk up the entrance pathway,
Cartilages, Arthur itis, Peripheral Neuropathy,
Glaucoma, Anne Gina, too much you see…
I adored getting out & about, naturally,
Maybe one day? I’m thinking miraculously…
But I won’t, I’ll never have the ability,
Bad enough being incapable physically,
Reality is harder to cope with mentally,
I wonder if the plant life & animals miss me?
Bird poo, that dropped on me seemed aimingly!
Those crows knew how to poo accurately,
Trips & tumbles, bites & stings for free,
I miss my daily walks so atrociously,
I can’t manage the uphill bit unaidedly,
The downhill bit would be just as risky,
This ode has brought on a feeling of inefficacy,
I still love my Tree Copse, albeit incongruously!
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I had a slightly better kip last night. Still broken up, but at least I know why this time. The guilty ailment was chiefly 
. She was persistent with it. I think I may have had a few nocturnal seizures as well. So many wake-ups, but my response was different for some of them, and it took me a lot longer to get back to sleep after a few of them. There were none of the 
episodes and a few of the 
. Did you see that? I was being diagnostic, investigative, and problem-solving, on the verge of being semi-logical in my assessment of the night’s kipping difficulties? 
I removed the night bag from the day bag, and bending down, I got a visit from 
… that was a bad one. In the late afternoon, while on the computer, he called again and was even more effective. I had a good few today.
I perked up a little, made a brew of Glengettie, and turned on the computer to finish Tuesday’s blog. It was a breeze! But it took me five hours due to basic errors a ten-year-old would be proud of.
It looked bleak outside, with a bit of drizzle.
I did some hoovering and sorted the waste bins. Then, I felt guilty about the mess in the wet room that still needed to be cleaned, so I went to the wet room.
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I only mixed up with the gear I just stacked up to make room to do the mopping! I landed on the pile of the shower chair, buckets, mops, bowls and towels, knocking them over and hitting the trolley and the cosmetics, gel, disinfectant, bleach, aftershave, toothbrush, scissors, and some medications. Now I’ve a bruised rib cage.
Miraculously, I didn’t go down to the floor and stayed on top of the rubbish. So, at least I didn’t have to crawl to the junk room on all fours to drag myself back onto my feet! Phew! Thanks lads! 🙏🏼
The Caregiver arrived, Ahram, I think. Or was it Joe? It was almost definitely one or the other. After I got the medications sorted and my socks on, the door chime rang out. It was the Asda delivery. While I was taking in the groceries, I had another of those danged dangerous Whoopsies!
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My carer Ahram was assisting me to get the groceries in the door, and 
, gave way and I dropped the walking stick. I slid down with my back against the wall and plumped on a pack of six (approx. 5-inches high) mini-mineral spring water bottles onto my bum. With both knees doubled up, Arthur Itis and the Cartilages were agony!
For more than one reason. Both knees, the cartilages and as I found out later, the bleeding haemorrhoids where I landed on the water bottles!
Both chaps set about getting me up again. I thanked them for being there at the right time to rescue me, get me on my feet, and get me into the chair! Carer
Ahram set to putting the fodder away, so there were no photographs of the food, as there usually would be. When I recovered, I took a snap of the fridge, freezer, and the bladder-demanding water.
The fridge.
The freezer.
The waters.
I took another kitchen window shot.
The day’s original Beloved Copse shot.
To the left of the window and down a bit.
(Do you recall ‘The Golden Shot’?)
The time has flashed by with little getting done other than the blog.
The wetroom is still in a mess.
The Haemorrhoids have stopped bleeding at last.
I think I’ve gained some more bruising on the ribs and back. And for some reason, my top and bottom lips are now bleeding. Huh!
Will I ever again get a decent injury-free day?
Or a night with some unbroken sleep?
Silly questions to ask!
A ready-made beef in gravy with colcannon mashed potatoes. I added the last can of minced beef in gravy, carrots, and peas. Added some Marmite to the mixture and stirred it all up. Just four minutes in the microwave & it was ready-to-eat. It tasted superb! It was so good that I didn’t eat any of the bread.
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Constipation, Anne Gyna & Seizures,
Two tumbles, Trouble w’ catheters,
Doreen Dementia, more Accifauxpas,
Arthur Itis, Peripheral Neuropathy,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids were oozing,
Glaucoma Gladys, things hard to see,
No time to start feeling lonely,
I was never truly alone today!
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TTFNski!
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Nocturnal pouch today.
Morning views.
Tea!
Kimberly
Afternoon Views
Seasonal colour changes.
Mother Nature!
Managed to get it in on Monday.
Potatoes, tomatoes & beef.
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hasten to the Porcelain Throne ASAP! 
plonked my bottie on the porcelain. The evacuation started before I got settled. I think it must be the liquidest evacuation I’ve ever suffered! And boy, did it reek! Yes, it did!
The evacuation lasted about thirty seconds. 
had burst open and spilt on the same spot on the carpet that I’d involuntarily wee-weeded on Saturday! 
An ailment that has been so kind to me these last few days has returned with a vengeance. This made things even more complicated to cope with on the computer. She must have visited me dozens of times, and after each one, I was lost as to what I was doing before she paid me each visit. 
reaction; it was, but desperately
The potatoes had boiled over and stained the cooker, floor, saucepan and counter! I was livid at myself! 
The story behind this miserable meal.
This week has undoubtedly proven that I need more help.
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Doesn’t yer know that today started so well that I was questioning my own insanity? What a start to this prospectively enlightening, trouble-
free, and confidence-returning day! 
The colour of the urine was classified by Carer Richard later, 
as a seven on the NHS rating colour card. That was a bit of a downer for me. Yet, I found myself whistling, well, I say whistling. I was trying to whistle; it was not easy with me losing another half-tooth to the land of rot and 
yesterday. Still, I laughed it off; even when Little Inchy’s fungal lesion started to bleed, I kept up my pecker… Honestly!
I put the Kodak Tim in my gown pocket and tried to take a selfie shot of how little the nick was.
chin was embarrassing as well!
I took a photo of the morning view from the kitchenette window and put the kettle on to make a brew of Thompson’s Punjana tea.
Then, I emptied all of the waste bins into one and placed it near the door for the Carer to pick up for me.
against the towel dryer. Now, I was beginning to feel a little riled, ruffled, ratty, almost to the point of getting hacked off.
‘s via 
.
! It was a man and woman (Amelia) 
from Specsavers checking the eyes. It was, I suppose, perfectly understandable that I forgot they were coming. 
, supported by 
it’s no surprise. They came in, barely hiding their disgust at the state of the room with the bed in it. Their superiority oozed from them as they went through the selling parts of their mission. Q & A’s. Sense of humourless. Prospective future Oligarchs, I think. Anyway, it seems I am cataract-free in both eyes. They think it must be the Glaucoma that’s causing the problems.
Arrived, full of beans. Gave her some nibbles and a drinkie for her kids. No medications were needed; I was too confused to take any after the WordPressing farce. Which is what I returned to after she rushed off on her duties.
or
or two.
Tired out now, but still messing about trying to sort out the changing font issue. Sod it, I made a brew of Glengettie tea and enjoyed it. Oh, I’ve just realised I’ve not had a Porcelain Evacuation all day!
If a need for food develops, then I might have an evacuation. I have more eyes and shoots to remove from the potatoes before putting them in the oven.
I took these pictures on the left earlier and forgot about them; it could happen to anyone, I say.
I’m drained and tired out, and I just smelt the burning potatoes in the oven! Another oven tray to throw away. More potatoes to de-scab and cook again. Which I did, smilingly, happily, contentedly… I speak LYINGLY Hehehe!
Nothing fancy, but I was hungry, so I enjoyed it.