Alto-Inchie, on Inchcock Thoughts in Ode – Part 11⅔rds

Now, there’s no comparison twixt the above two,
Albert is dead; Inchcock is in the queue…
Both smoked a pipe, Erinmore honeydew,
Violence, they both tried to eschew,
Albert was very clever, too…
Inchie also had thoughts, but very few…
He can’t get them to do what he wants them to,
He still struggles with his toilet tissue issue!

Alto-Inchie on Inchcocks Waking & Rising

Once woken, he works out what time and day is dawning,
A wee-wee will be needed, while he’s still yawning,
Check what ailments are most perturbing…
If any clothes are on, he’ll start disrobing…
The fungal lesion will be bleeding or throbbing,
Arthur Itis, Reflux Roger and Ann Gyna may be stinging…
With doing the ablutions, he’ll start grappling,
Little Inchie, embarrassingly like a watercress sapling,
The constant wee-wees, flowing then ebbing…
Porcelain Throne time, so he starts the divebombing,

Having cleaned as best, he can,
Medicationalisationings is his plan,
He does so sometimes painfully, others with elan,
Gets his medications from off of the Ottoman…
Sprays, drops, creams, ointments, some vegetarian!


Stops any bleeding with Brute aftershave, and then began…
Little Inchies Fungal lesion cleaning, a delicate organ!
Tea made, he awaits his carer whichever, Julia or Megan,
Falls asleep and dreams of a two-headed Martian!

Alto-Inchie Observes

This morning’s ablutions got Inchcock to his bolshiest…
The Porcelain Throne did not clear; this did not please!
Five times the water in the tank was replaced…
Struggling to get the lid back on, his lesion began to bleed,
Eventually, the evacuated product blockage was freed,
But he banged his knee, and this he didn’t need!
And for some reason, he peed and peed and peed!

Alto-Inchie on Inchcocks Activities

Inchcock grabbed his Canon, camera,
Into the balcony, he did manoeuvre…

To his amazement… the rusty red van had parked almost between the lines in the proper place, and not on his beloved yellow chevrons! On closer inspection, Inchcock realised some else had parked in his illegal corner on the hatched area, forcing him to try and park his van in the car park – which he very nearly managed between the white guidelines. Haha!,

Mayhaps this time, he returned being sober?
Although he did park correctly last October!

Alto-Inchie: Inchcock Cooks!

Inchcock prepped the meal for Josie, and takes a wee,
Get the ingredient together properly,
Then he fell over majestically…
Well, at least acrobatically…
Now he has a freshly swollen knee…
Arthur Itis hurting, which is obligatory…
He got the chilli-stew cooking, not hassle-free!
Then his Sister rang he…
Then he fell over majestically…
Well, at least acrobatically…
Now he has a freshly swollen knee…
Arthur Itis hurting, which is obligatory…
He got the chilli-stew cooking, not hasslefree!.

Sister Jane and Inchcock, nattered away free…
Until he smelt something burning, to the kitchen he did flee…
Spilt over stew, it was as if the 1812 overture by Tchaikovsky,
Had entered his head, as he panicked, profusely!
He cleaned things up, started again; and felt glee…
He even swore at me!

Alto-Inchie: Handouts in Thanks

He sorted his freebies out, updated, some new,
Including the Mojito ones, he read as Cocktail,
Then found they were non-alcoholic… Wail!
He was fooled by the microscopic printing, that said Mocktail
Still, some of the Nurses and Carers don’t like ale…

Alto-Inchie:

He got Josie’s nosh done and tasted, luck did prevail,
An Accifauxpas delivery route did entail…
He stubbed his toe against the heater rail…
He arrived at Josie’s door feeling frail…
As it opened, he saw she looked hearty and hale!
So with a smile and some banter, he did regale…
Glad she looked so well, chattering he had to curtail…
Cheerily wished all the best, to his nightingale,
Off for another wee-wee he did bail!

Alto-Inchie: Inchcock Broods For A While – Then Brews

A memory shot into his brain, he was mortified,
The thought of The Meadows where he lived…
He supposes the old houses had to be sacrificed,
They were decrepit, with rats, fleas and mice…
Must seem bad to folks; he thought they were nice…
As having alopecia, chickenpox, pneumonia, polio and lice?
We were all poor, sickly, but not at all mystified,
When yet another child got ill and died…
We helped each other, we were unified…
A family of thousands, with fear, denied!

Inchcock made a Glengettie brew,
Feeling better now, well he would do…
Tea can be good for you…

Alto-Inchie: Inchcock’s Ablutionings

WHOOPSIEDANGLEPLOP!

Computer playing up – I think the end is nigh!

I’ll try to post this.

Who is a Grobble Knumphchuckle?

So, who is worthy of the sarcastically Inchcock invented name of a Grobble Knumphchuckle?

A ‘Grobble Knumphchuckle’ title recipient has most of Anthony Charles Lynton Blair qualities and attributes. But the chosen few have the added ‘quality, ‘skill’, ‘trait’, ‘ability to have failed in their chosen sphere of financial skullduggery, hustling, or whatever position they have conned others out of to get employment and absolutely phenomenal salaries! (I’m not jealous at all). 

The hated few, selected band of natural, proper, worthy candidates that have been granted the name by both Inchcock and his Alto-Ego Inchie! We start today with the current Top Dog himself…

Mike Fries (Left)

Distraught UK Customer on the right!

Grobble Knumphchuckle? Yes!

A most deserving case. He has all the traits required. Plus, I am dead-jealous of his salary during the Coronavirus he’s paid himself, of… wait for it… $1 million a week! According to the internet, difficult to be sure if this is true as Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet keeps going down several times a day… and ever upwards in cost!

No wonder he’s smiling! I Can’t blame him!

Chief Executive Officer of Liberty Global

Who acquired British cable group Virgin Media for $24 billion!

Virgin Media’s new owner faces a shareholder revolt for paying its boss $1 million a week during the pandemic. The American chief executive of London-based Liberty Global pocketed $52 million (£36.7 million) last year, even as the broadband and TV provider was hit with a deluge of customer complaints.

A number cruncher? Conman? Mafia-backed?

Who knows. He appears hubristic, conceited, self-assured, smug, arrogant, daredevil, self-asserting, shameless, procacious, scoffing, impervious to failure, and a moralless bloke?

Then again, if I was getting away with conning my bosses, shitting on my Nottingham customers, and an excellent number-cruncher and bean-counter as Fries: And getting away with it, paid a fortune to fail… and cunningly hiding the actual figures so cleverly, I might be the same as he is?

Which does nothing to help me get the over-priced, ever going off-line Virgin Liberty-Global Virgin Media internet to work?

You try to sign off and try another company! Huh!

Fries Virgin-O2 Deal?

O2 and Virgin Media have confirmed plans to create a new company through merging. The deal establishes a quad-play (broadband, TV, phone and mobile) company that will rival BT. The combined business will have up to 40 million commercial and residential customers and be worth over £31 billion.

However, several issues, including regulatory, will need to be worked out as the ‘deal’ progresses.

Quote From Fries

Mike Fries, Chief Executive Officer of Liberty Global, said: “We couldn’t be more excited about this combination. Virgin Media has redefined broadband and entertainment in the UK with lightning fast speeds and the most innovative video platform. And O2 is widely recognized as the most reliable and admired mobile operator in the UK, always putting the customer first.

Putting the customer first?

Oh, my mistake, I thought for a minute that Fries was claiming that was what Liberty-Global Virgin Media were doing… even he is not brave enough to make that claim… is he? He was talking about 02.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Dear Mr Fries:

The figures and statements I’ve found on the internet, maybe pre-juggled or crunched, appear better to the investors. This searching the web and creating this blog is not accessible when Liberty-Global Virgin Media here in Nottingham, England, keeps going down several times, every day! I find it confusing.

Hehe! I am what used to be called a Silver-Surfer, although I am bald. I struggle with disabilities, stroke, heart-surgery recovery, and vascular dementia. Not that this would bother you in any way! Empathy is obviously not in your dictionary. Knowing how to run an internet service that is even close to being semi-reliable is also beyond your capabilities, but hey… we’re only customers!

Statement

 Liberty-Global businesses operate under some of the best-known consumer brands, including Virgin Media-O2 in the UK, VodafoneZiggo in The Netherlands, Telenet in Belgium, Sunrise UPC in Switzerland, Virgin Media in Ireland and UPC in Eastern Europe.

My Response:

Is your internet none-reliability the same everywhere, Mike? Or do you have something against the proletariat pensioners of Nottingham, on the tiny island, UK?

Statement

Our global investment arm, Liberty Global Ventures, has investments in more than 75 companies and funds in the fields of content, technology and infrastructure, including strategic stakes in companies such as Plume, ITV, Lions Gate, Univision, the Formula E racing series and several regional sports networks.

Reads impressively; At least to anyone who isn’t cursed with your destruction of Virgin Media reliability. Are there any vestiges of mock customer service and Liberty Global’s constant, Nottinghamian internet failures? Several other unhappy old silver-surfers are using Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet (when it’s not gone down, of course) in these blocks of old folks flats that would like to know. Why am I asking you? Proof of my senility here!

Statement

Liberty Global total number of employees in 2020 was 23,000, a 13.86% increase from 2019.

My Response:

Are the imitation customer services team, electronic or even the human variety occasionally gagged? Do they have scripts to read from? Have you told them never to mention Libert-Global when someone calls? That is if they can get through and the LG telephone is working. Thus, Mr Branson can be blamed for the abysmal service we are receiving?

Statement

Liberty Global is a cable company providing video, broadband internet, fixed-line telephony, mobile, and other communications services to residential customers and businesses.

My Response:

I think you’ve missed a word out of the above Liberty Global statement… Should it read, Liberty Global is a cable company providing video, broadband internet, fixed-line telephony, mobile, and other communications services to UNFORTUNATE residential customers and businesses?

Have a good day!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

..

Inchies Frictional, Unfrivolved, Fricking Friday!

Things started pretty well for me, oh, yah!

I got the Halloween hand-outs on display…

For carers, nurses, come who may,

Anyone visiting me from today…

Then got the potatoes, boiled with balsamic vinegar,

And a spot of Worcester sauce, & a pinch of demerara sugar,

They’ll do for later if I remember the bugger,

With the chilli, and put on some more sauce, tartar?

Titivated the kitchenette, dropped a jam jar!

An excellent job that it wasn’t the caviar!

The jar didn’t break, and it missed my feet…

Things were going well, all seemed alreet,

Off to the computer with a mug of tea, took a seat,

I even nibbled some biscuits, wholewheat!

The landline rangeth, the Amazon man, a right pain!

T’was then that my good luck, nosedived again!

We couldn’t understand what each other said,

So I went down to meet and talk to him instead,

His English was better than my Afghanistani,

But he left me, in the lurch, there was no barny…

He abandoned the food with me in the lift foyer, the Git!

I had to get the parcels into the lift, and I wasn’t fit…

Back up to the 12th-floor, struggled to get the bags out,

Then had to get them into the lobby,

Then into the flats lobby,

Then into the flat,

Then the hallway…

Then the kitchen, my energy drained away!

Next, the swearing started, I have to say!

The Git had put bleach in, it leaked, had to throw my bananas away!

The baguette buggered, utter dismay!

Tomatoes crushed, and I was feeling bushed!

Honey yogourts pot fell apart; I was further crushed!

Got the salvaged food sorted,

I was pissed off; I felt like I’d been ambushed!

The cooked ham was crumbs and crushed!!!

I was feeling despondent, to say the least!

Can’t see myself enjoying tonight’s feast!

Got the fodder all sorted… What was eatable anyway!

I was determined to get the treats out today for those who have helped me out over the year. Jenny, Norah and Frank, and Obergruppenfürher Deana and Obersturmbannfuhreress Julie, the ILCs (Indeependent Living Coordinators) at the flats. I rang them both to tell them I’d be coming down later to see if it was alright, as they may have been busy. Recorded messages on both phones that told me they must be busy. So I’ll get the goodies sorted out and go to Jenny then to the office with them.

As I was going out of the door, struggling a little with the walker-trolley, the postman came into the foyer. Oh, dearie me! This sounds like it may be a con-job?

An official-looking brown envelope, a white one, and then he handed me an ‘insufficient postage bill for nearly £11 for something that has been sent to me?

He kindly offered to ask his boss if he could pay for it for me, get the ‘parcel’, and I can refund him, and he’ll bring it in the morning. I was dubious, as I don’t think ~I am expecting anything through the post? Anyway, I thanked him and took him up on his generous offer for me, with a certain feeling of doom.

The white envelope was from Meridian, three A4 pages, about my Christmas needs for carers, Logging-in, Shadowing & Spot Checks, McMillan Charity Ball, On Call Centre procedure, and a Service-User Forum Wednesday 8th December at Foxton Gardens.

I didn’t over concentrate on owt, but the dodgy sounding parcel postage cost thingy. Then thought I’d try ringing the Wardens again, let them know I was coming down to see them and ask if they could have a look at the Social Services letter for me.

Finally, I got back to the walker-trolley of goodies, of off down to Jenny’s. On the way down, I thought to myself… well, I felt sorry for myself, really. Everything suddenly going into panic mode; surely things must calm down now… Hahahahahaha! Crap!

I called at Jenny’s flat, rang the bell and knocked on the door, and returned to the lift.

Down and into the connecting corridor with Winwood Court.

Called at the Wardens Interrogation and Body Search Room and dropped off the nibbles. Dean checked the Attendance forms for me, and I signed them. At last, something was going right – Hey-Ho! Little did I know what Accifauxpas and Whoopsiedangleplops still awaited me yet!

Then realised I had not put the prescriptions list in the envelope.

Back up and down in the lift again, and down to Deana.

Gawd, it did! I thanked Deana and hobbled out of the Winwood Court foyer, the first time I’ve been in the fresh air for months now, I think… But it proved to be a hazard ridden journey to the post-box to mail the letter… Just when I stupidly thought things were getting better again…

Unbeknownst to me, the wind was howling out there, and it whipped the envelope and paperwork out of my hand, high up in the sky, swirling around and then seemed to turn back in my direction, falling down in the car park twixt the vehicles. So, if it had blown off again, I would not have seen it again… Semi-panic mode engaged. I pursued the envelope and had to search a bit to find it. Still, the relief when I saw it trapped in between the branches of a bush was welcomed, even more so when I managed to get at it in time before it flew off into the clouds again!

I limped hastily as I could to the mailbox, checked the envelope, and posted it; thank heavens for that. Although, my EQ told me it would not have mattered, because as the voice said: “You ain’t going to get no financial help, any and either way, cocker!” Which was a smidge disheartening, bearing in mind EQ has never been wrong with his forecasts… no, I tell a lie, sorry. He was once, just the one time.

I hobbled back inside and just had to tell Deana what had happened. At least she got to laugh out loud before going home for the weekend, bless her. Hehe!

I set off along the link corridor and got to the connecting door.

Boy, did I feel a fool!

I could feel the key fob in my jacket pocket, but could I find a way in to get it? No! I assumed it had gone through the lining of one of the pouches. Back through link passage and to Deana, thinking she may have some scissors for me to use, to cut through the pocket.

Within a few seconds of investigating the jacket pocket for me, Deana put on a broad grin – that I believe actually said, “What a pillock!” As she pointed out that the sleeveless coat had two pockets on either side, one behind the other!

I blushed, felt the pillock above, thanked her, and scurried away in embarrassment and fast as I could… back, yet again along the corridor.

The hobble back into Woodthorpe was masked by the deep and genuine worry about what the hell am I doing? Since retirement, nothing going right, or even things going wrong, has been a part of my life, but I am not coping so well with things nowadays.

The trip up in the lift left little recollections of anything. I should have guessed that Dizzy Dennis and Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley were about to erupt; the hassle for such a long time nearly always ends in a tumble or similar – this time was no different, I’m afraid; Well, it was actually.

The haze came over me as I began to push the trolley through to the lobby from the cage. I gave myself such a bash on the right shoulder; it knocked me sideways, I clouted my back on the other side of the lift, and I went down, almost in slow motion!

My Luck Changed!

I had no idea who it was, but a bloke came out of the end flats and got me up on my feet again. See, I am fortunate sometimes. I think he knew me cause he guided me back to the flat and helped get the trolley in for me. Not sure what we spoke about, but I think we did have a natter.

I made a brew of Glengettie Gold and sat down doing absolutely nothing, but fretting of course. Nodded off for ten minutes. Woke up in need of a wee-wee and felt so much better, then? Back-Pain-Brenda was the main pain-giver, but you can’t blame her after that little backwards tumble. Hahaha! I made another drink, and took a Cocodamal, then got on with updating this blog. I hadn’t really realised how late it was, although with all the palaver I should have expected it, the Evening Carer arrived.

It was Helen. After she’d done the medications, it was she who told me what a terrible day she’s been having. Bless her! When I related my day so far and showed Helen the photographs (I was still doing the blog updating when she arrived), She did laugh! Which was good cause it might have cheered her up a smidgeon, I hope.

I realised that I could not find the Warfarin card anywhere. Mmm? Mayhaps I dropped it when I collapsed on my rump? I went to check in the elevator cage. Nope!

Summat else to worry about now, Tsk! I got back in the front room and was going to do another search of the multi-pocketed jacket… when… I spotted it on the carpet underneath the computer cabinet.

I pressed on with this blog updating, and woe of woes, I got as far as I heard and realised it was almost midnight! I’d better get something to eat… ah, yes, the chilli and the crushed brochette, or whatever its name is, bread to me.

While doing the cooking, it was complicated for an old chap, like what I am. Some done in the crock-pot, chilli-con-carne on the saucepan on the hob, and wedges in the microwave, and as for all the cleaning up afterwards… Humph! Where was I?

Oh, yes, I took photographicalisations of the night sky.

Part Of The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woes – With Odes Series.

Inchcocks Escape to town No.5 – Wed 16th Dec 20: Oh, dearie me!

Out into the Drizzle

I arrived in town with aches and pains from the bus trip, I was already sorry I’d escaped! The bus ride was a battle between me keeping the trolley-guide from running away every time we took a corner, jammed the anchors on, went downhill, and my falling out of the seat! Harolds Haemorrhoids were stinging! I called in the Wilko store to get some of the Laundry freshener, which I did. I came out, with three of the granules, chocolate brazils, peanuts and a bottle of disinfectant.

I left and hobbled to the Poundland Shop, where I got carried away and frustrated. They had no pies, Dettol or filled BLT sarnies. After a physical battle with other shoppers breathing down my neck cause I was not moving fast enough, people running in front of me in the queue, I paid with the card at the checkout for the: Toffiffee box, Frazzles, White waste bags, Perle De Perle lemon desserts, Ginsters pasties, Microfibre cleaning cloths, can of stewed steak, Oxo cubes, Mint and lemon disinfectant, (Good for the overnight emergency grey wee-wee bucket, you know!) and a packet of Senna tablets.

Out in the drizzle, passing all the jolly, happy, sociable, kind, understanding, smiling, sweet-natured Nottinghamians, merrily going about their shoplifting and pickpocketing activities. Avoiding the pavement cyclists was risky!

Along Upper Parliament Street, and down King Street towards the Market Square. The wind was getting up, I was struggling controlling the three-wheeler guide, and getting the odd shower from the buses as they pulled up from the puddles. The toenails joined the piles in giving me some tender stinging as I limped down the hill.

I stopped at the bottom of Long Row opposite the tree, and took the time to just glance around, (in my Sherlock Holmesian Mode, here!), to access the mood of the Nottingham plebeians. The masks were being worn by, I’d estimate, 60% of the Nottingham great unwashed, Students, muggers etc., but I got the view that the masses, were not too content with life, but, who can blame them?

I limped across the Slab Square. I’d decided to go to the other Poundland Store on Wheeler Gate, in search of some Dettol disinfectant, and BLT sarnies. A sense of doom and gloom came over me as I crossed over, starving pigeons came down to me when I stopped a moment to try and wriggle the keet to free the toenails that had got tangled in the sock. They must have thought I was going have summat to eat, and hoped a few crumbs would fall to the floor?

Long Row looked terribly sad. Temporary and permanently closed stores everywhere, a desperate pigeon seeking fodder of some sort, and few Nottinghamians about! I got in the Poundland and had another struggle to get around, the feet and toes were harrowing painful now. I cheered a smidge when I found some Dettol lavender disinfectant on sale and got three bottles. As I meandered about I added, two part-baked baguettes, pork pie, a BLT sarnie, The wobbles came on when I got to the self-serve tills, I was embarrassed and in a pickle.

A young lady helped me out and picked up the dropped items and out them through for me. She was busy and kept nipping off to help others, and I started to all out of the shop with the trolley and bags hanging all over it, and the girl chased after me… I had not paid! Red-faced (it probably showed through the face-mask!) I returned and used the card…

Oh, heck! The machine would not take the card! I went into Panic-Mode. The young lady tried to calm me down, but all sorts of things were going through my mind, embarrassment being the biggest! I fumble around and found enough cash to pay, the lady was very calm about it. I thanked her and dug out a can from the trolley, of Vodka mix and gave it to her. When I got outside, I calmed down a bit, as I realised I’d used the card earlier at the other store, so the bak might have been being cautious, in case the card had been stolen and used?

I got to the slab square and noticed the large number of crows that were about. Someone had dropped some crumbs whatever, and the crows dived down attacking the pigeons? I had a good while before the bus was due, so I walked around the Council House and back along Long Row on the other side, to King Street. 

The Primark Store had bouncers and staff controlling the shoplifting customers as they queued up to do some pilfering. I don’t know how the stop stays in business. I rarely go in nowadays, its a large store with escalators and stairs, so I can’t go shopping there anymore anyway. But the times in the past I’ve seen kleptomaniacs and pickpockets at work when I did shop there, was phenomenal.

As I turned up King Street to go to the bus stop, the PAvement Cyclist git it blue, came withing inched of hitting me, and seemed totally unaware of it. I hoped my taking this photo might trigger him to ask me why I was photographing him, as he chatted to a fellow food deliverer. Then I could have told him! But, no!

The three Christian singers were out again further up the road, near the Brian Clough statue, its called speakers corner. They or one or more of them are regular attenders. The chap on the right with the guitar started this singing to the Lord off first. I’ve never seen him in long trousers, whatever the weather is like?

I got up to the bus stop and took this snap as I arrived there, it is sadly, indicative of the mood of the City Centre today. Drab! I caught a number 40 bus back home, glad I did, it is much quicker than the L9.

I was tired, in pain, mangled toenails, Duodenal Donald starting to kick-off, depressed, embarrassed, and oh, so keen and ready for fodder and sleep!

Inchcock Today – Friday 13th December 2019: Humph!

Friday 14th December 2019

Bosnian: Utorak 14 Decembar 2019

22:35hrs: I woke, to the sound of the dreaded ‘Hum’, and the rain belting against the balcony windows. It was coming through the many gaps in the windows. And dribbling down onto and underneath the wooden slatted base. Where is was gelling with the many fallen from the plastering, powder and crumbs already fallen. Much of it disappearing underneath the slats. I was strangely interested in this and lay watching for a while. My imagination saw the mess under all of the balconies was getting heavier, and eventually, the weight would cause the collapse of a few of them. I knew if this happened, I would be the one on the balcony at the time. Probably, I’d be unlucky enough to survive and have even more pain and pissed-offedness. Then the thought of the upcoming struggle to get an appointment at the Doctors lingered for a few seconds. Then I was annoyed at needing a wee-wee, meaning IO need to get my hog-like, but wobbly body free of the £300 second-hand rickety recliner.

The odd mood I woke-up in; meant an end to my moments of uhtceare. With klebenleiben, and clinomania shaken-off, a sort of semi-coherence returned to the brain, and I rose up; onto my feet. Grabbed the stick, and hobbled into the wet room. While I was waiting for the LRWS (Long-Reluctant-Weak-Sprinkly) wee-wee to finish, it occurred on me, that Duodenal Donald, Arthur Itis and Anne Gyna were all in a good mood with me! Nice!

Off to the kitchen, and turning the light on, the effulgent lighting seemed to piss-off Saccades Sandra, and an inner cascade of jumping colours and unfocussed kitchen parts flashed around. I had to stop where I was until it got less bothersome before moving on. Yet this did not start off Dizzy Dennis at all? No matter, I was pleased about that. I got the kettle on, moved the handwashing onto the airer, took the morning medications and made the brew. Then I gave Arthur Itis’s knees a good rub with the Phorpain gel, maybe it didn’t need it with the joints not playing up, but I thought it an intelligent decision anyway.

Back to the wet room for a heavy-duty evacuation. Oh, dearie me! Bloody, painful and messy. Back to normal then. Haha!

I got on the computer to update the Friday Inchcock Today diary and found that the fingers were giving my mini-quiverings and making typing work very difficult. Ever correcting. But I had no choice other than to keep pressing on. I eventually got it done and posted off to WordPress.

Then went on the TFZer Facebooking. Made a brew and had a look at the current state of the nation, electorally. Not what one would have wanted, but there you are. A lot more results to come in yet, I think.

Thoughts turned to jentacular desires. So I made another brew and had two mint-biscuits. Ah, the good life. Hahaha!

Then I had a look at the WordPress Reader. Then rechecked on the voting.

I had a go at getting some graphics done for the next template. I only got one done, then had to get the ablutions done.

Just a thought, but they used to make use of a machine (1906 -1907) for automatically recording votes, a psephograph (1906 -1907). Too reliable, maybe?

I’ll get a clean up then. Back in a bit. I took a snap of the cold outside view. Peaceful looking, idyllic too. Huh!

Well, I had to utilise the Porcelain throne first. No discomfort and no bleeding. The dropsies were not too many (he says trying not to tell you how many), the sock-glide was accident-free! Afterwards, when I was all polished and perfumed ready for dressing, could I find my £2 wristwatch with the £10 strap and £15 battery? I took me ages, so long, I thought I might need another shave by the time I found the watch! Haha!

 

Checked the flat, flapped about, lights, taps etc. looked over. I took the back bags with me to the waste chute when I departed along with the white bag for the recycling bin.

I got down and to the Obersturmbannfhreress, ILC Wardens Control Room and Holding Cell, nibbles issued, and out to the big Winwood Social room. I accepted a few put-downs from Welsh William and had a natter. Moving through the link corridor to the Winchester Court lobby, and waited there along with some other tenants, to avoid the rain, until the bus arrived. The wind and rain greeted us as we left to get to the shelter as the buses came.

I had a go on the crosswording en route. Dropping off on Upper Parliament Street. The rain still with us. Straight into the Poundland World, to get some Dettol Lavender and toilet blocks and have a look around. Taking a photograph of the thousands of bits of chewing gum all over the pavement. Humph!

I came out of the store, after being given help on the self serve checkouts, by a kind assistant. The card would not work, and I could not remember the number. Humph! With the trolley and carrier bag holding: Dettol brown (no lavender available). A Pork Farms pork pie, Bloo toilet blocks, Mouthwash and some Orange digestive biscuits (which I had to battle to get from the top shelf, but they are my favourite chocolate biscuits, so I went through pain to attain them. Haha!). Paid cash, thanked the lady for her help, and left.

Out onto Parliament Street in the rain, again.

This chaps driving skill left me shuddering. Foot down and forward, scattering pedestrians!

Nottinghamian pedestrians cross against the lights!

Nottinghamian pedestrians cross against the lights!

Nottinghamian pedestrians cross against the lights!

The chewing gum on Clumber Street, where I took some of the above photographs from, sheltered a little from the wind, also had thousands of chewing gum blobs on it. That is if they are discarded masticated bits chewing gum? I assume that is what they are? But I’m not sure.

I limped down Clinton Street, observing the expressions. Thus, the mood of the Nottinghamian shop-lifters, muggers, pick-pockets, illegal immigrants, students, drug-pushers, alcoholics, house-breakers, uninsured car owners, TWOCers and the TWOCed, Benefit cheats… Sorry, got carried away there! Anyway, it seemed to me, that there was a general feeling on their mushes, of resignation, acceptance of the inevitable, and a touch of euphobia, perhaps?

Down along Long Row and onto Wheeler Gate. To try to find some lavender Dettol at the Poundland store on there. I took this dismal photo of the appallingly messy looking Slab Square, and South Parade. The mood was becoming depressive around the area, and my EQ told me to be wary. Nothing happened, but I put myself in Defence and Desticated mode.

At the self-serve tills, a really kind lady put the things through for me, (she was on duty the last time when I got the sensory nerve-ends problems and kept dropping things, which didn’t endear me to the waiting in the queue, shoppers behind me!). I managed surprisingly to remember the card number! I came out with; Sliced wholemeal cobs, Lavendar Dettol, and mushroom pate. I made sure I told the lady that I appreciated her help, and off out into the rain and increasingly nasty wind outside.

I hobble across the market, and up Queen Street onto Upper Parliament Street, and took this photograph towards the Victoria Centre shopping centre (mall).

As I turned to go back down Queen Street, the skies darkened threateningly. No one was at the bus shelter waiting. I got myself underneath the cover of the plastic overhang. A lady joined me, and she was concerned about the L9 being late. As I was explaining about the bus always being late on this run, due to the changeover of drivers. The bus arrived to make me a liar! Hehe!

I had a failed go at the crosswording on the way back. I believe I was the only person to get off of the bus at Winwood Heights.

And it was into the most horrendously high winds I’ve ever suffered. Just getting to the door was a battle to stay on my feet. Luckily the bus stop is now close to Winchester Court, and I entered their lobby and walked through the link passages back to Woodthorpe Court. As I got in my own lift lobby, the warmth of the new Winwood Court was replaced with a colder, drafty Woodthorpe one!

Up to the flat, and took an INHBT (I-needn’t-have-bothered-trickling) wee-we. I came out of the wet room and saw a note had been put through the letterbox. Oh, Damn! Again, I’d just missed the phlebotomy nurse by five minutes! But no guilt lingered for once. No one had told me when she was due! I had not received any Notification of what my last test results or what the new doses should be! Not from the Sherwood Medical Practice, nor the Anticoagulation Haemostasis and Deep Vein Thrombosis Clinic either!  BPAFMPOM (Beyond-Pathetic-and-Feeble-Minded-Pissed-off-Mode) engaged)

I was in a depression now.

I put the receipts on the computer to use in the morning to update. Got the nosh done. Made some pate and tomato sarnies, the last of the open garden peas and beetroot. As if to point out my change in luck, I took a photo of the plate of fodder. It seems to have drifted off into the ether when I put the images on in the morning! Grumph!

I felt sickened with missing the blood nurse, especially as it was not my fault, but I know I’ll get blamed! The Desticate from my EQ, now becomes clear, why!

Depressed, enervated, annoyed and spiritually incapacitated, I forced myself to do the washing up and handwashing.

Got down in the recliner, and mentally stewed for ages. Sour, bitter, frustrated and gloomy.

So, no change there, then!

Inchcock Today – Wednesday 20th November 2019: Not a lot went right today! Frustrating!

Wednesday 20th November 2019

Turkey: 20 Kasım 2019 Çarşamba

23:50hrs: I woke in a confuses state of mind. Fair enough, I needn’t have written this, due to more often than not I do wake up muddle-brained. But this morning was an exceptionally disordered, unconnected, rambling, uncoordinated mishmash than usual. Attaining a level of logicalness, took me a few minutes, and then it was only partial! Fears, worries, and a nagging certainty that I had forgotten something important, or instead failed to remember. If it was not for the sudden urgent need of a wee-wee, I might still be laying there determined to find out what I had forgotten… I think.

Anyroad, I soon had something else to fret over. I escaped the warming clutches of the £300, second-hand, c1968, rickety recliner, grabbed the stick, swore silently at Arthur Itis’s knees, and limped ASAP to the wet room. I felt the blood on my fingers as I prepared things, so stood for the session above the porcelain bowl, trying to limit the spray. The wee-wee was blood-free (Phew!), but a few drips from the fungal lesion kept my attention. Only an RBPDD (Reluctant-But-Painless-Drip-Drip) mode.  Most of the time was spent painfully applying the Clotisol cream and cleaning things up afterwards. The reluctance of the flow to stop for such a long time caught me by surprise, considering that the Warfarin INR level was down to 1.6 on Monday. Still, not to fret anymore, I got it plugged at last. And luckily this Whoopsie had caused me to forget about the earlier mind-blast, so that worked out well!

That was until I started to exit the wet room. I managed without any bother to give the toe a really first-class, toe-stubbing against the metal leg of the shower chair! I stemmed the natural verbal outburst, worrying about the neighbours and any noise. I made do with (I thought at the time) a heroically restrained, stifled, low-muffled sort of ‘Eragherruffhooagh!’ Hehehe! Then getting in a position to put Phorpain Gel on the toe, kicked Arthur Itis’s pain up to Defcon Two level. Grumph! And to think, a while ago all I was concerned with was the complexed brain-storm. It doesn’t matter so much now! Although the confusion in the head lingers on now. Tsk!

Off to the kitchen, got the kettle on, took the medications and made the tea, Glengettie. I was aware that I had not needed a Porcelain Throne session yet, which was something out of the ordinary for late. But, up to now, this morning has been a different one than usual.

Neither arrived!

I got to the computer and checked the Google Calendar first. Two health visitors today. I think they may be about the same issue, but I’m not certain. The Warfarin INR being so low might interest the Anticoagulation Haemostasis Deep vein Arterial Thrombosis Clinic. And the Medicine Team nurse cold be about the same, or maybe the not being able to recognise the water-tablets in the blister packs, and are only taken when needed, so I might well be throwing away the bisoprolol (also called Cardicor or Emcor) beta-blocker in mistake? Ah well, I’ll soon find out.

I started the updating of the Tuesday blog, a mammoth job with all that went on and the many photographs to sort out. But, I got it done and posted off in the end. I started sneezing during the process, and have not stopped since.

Eight hours since getting up, and still, I have not had the call to the Porcelain Throne!

I went on the WordPress Reader, and put some pictures on Pinterest.

Time is flying by, I’d better get the ablutions done, so as to be ready in case any medics arrive early.

Marvellous session. Only three dropsies, one cut shaving, and all done quickish. I got the pressies and box of recyclables, dropped them off on the way down. Doris held the door open for me. Got to the Obergruppenfureress Wardens holding cell, saw Deana and back up to the flat. Got the computer back on and did some photographicalising of oneself (I know, but I’m bravish!) Trimmed them to use as Whopppsiedangleplop support.

The intercom went, and a medical worker was admitted, but she did not arrive at the flat. I went down to the foyer, but saw no one anywhere? Then returned to the flat and waited. No signs of her. I thought she might be seeing someone else first, but it is the tie she said she’d arrive. Another 

I have still not had the call to the Porcelain Throne? Another of the Mysteries of my beloved Woodthorpe Court. That lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of space & the universal continuum, illusion, delusion, & hallucination!

While I was waiting, I kept hearing noises, like things falling over, and rattles, I could not tell where they were coming from. Then the hearing aids batteries ‘bleeped’ as they both ran out of power. I got some replacement batteries in them. Still no signs of the prescription medical lady? Oh dear!

I made a start on graphics for the templates for the blogs.

Ah, off to the Porcelain Throne! By-golly that was a monster session again, but no pain and no bleeding!

I am now stuck indoors. Because the lady who rang to be let in has not appeared and the Anticoagulation Haemostasis Deep vein Arterial Thrombosis Clinic member has not arrived either! I dare no go out in case they do arrive. So, I decided on a marathon session of graphicalisationing. Then, if one or both does come, I’ll be here ready!

After a long session that took me hours and well beyond my usual head-down time, Arthur Itis’s knees didn’t like me getting up, and I had a close to toppling over moment. (Tsk!) I went to make a much-needed mug of Thompson’s tea, got the medications out and ready, and had a wee-wee, of a DAAOJ: Drip-And-All-Over-Job! The sink hot tap is now leaking – I’m fed-up!

I got the walking stick holder from its box and went onto the balcony to see about fitting it to the new three-wheeler-walker. What a farce! I’ve no idea how or where it can fit?

Had a wash and did the teggies, keeping the door open all the time, in case the intercom went off. It’s getting dark a bit quick now, so I should see it when it lights up. That’s if it doesn’t break down again, of course. Grumph! I did a peek at the legs, got a couple more veins bulging and a new whatever it is (Glopidogrel?) above the left knee. Well, it makes a bit of interest dunnit!

I took a snap of the red sky from the unwanted, unliked, unpopular, light & view-blocking, can’t get to clean nor look down to the roadway for ay emergency vehicles cause I can’t hear the fire-alarm, thick-framed new cleverly designed kitchen windows. It is getting really dark now, so I took another picture for xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete, of the house being done up over the way. I was amazed at how light it came out, but I’m not complaining about it. The lads will have to pack-up working outside soon. A bit like Pete did when he won the lottery and had a fortune left him by an unknown relative. Still, he says he misses the few years when he was actually working for a living. Not that I’m jealous or anything, just surprised he had to steal my valuables while I was in the hospital after the stroke. Hehehe!

I went to the front door (well, it’s the only one innit) to make sure none of the expected visitors who hadn’t turned up had not been and left a note for me. But a letter had been delivered, from Liberty-Global Virgin Media. The service will be going down on 12th December for approximately five hours (they say in the letter). It gives us orders to: If your services are not back to normal (Does that mean crap? Cause that is normal for them!), try resetting your set-top box (which I do not have?) and modem, This might not work, if so, give our team a call on 0800 052 2137. Thanks in advance for your patience while we improve your network. Hahaha! I had another heart attack when I read this!

I still wasn’t up to doing the templates, too tired. So I went out on the balcony and took some shots:

I came in out of the cold, and did a tripping-over of the inside step runner. I fell against the swivel chair, and spun around onto the recliner. Which worked out very well, cause I missed the cabinet and floor altogether, saving a prospectively nasty knee-banging incident! But I was well-pleased with the outcome.

I took the medications and made another brew, and could not put off getting at least some of the templates made up any longer. Or could I? Yep, enough was suddenly enough. Another change of mind, I decided to make some sarnies for eats. This was when I realised that the rice lead had not arrived as well as the anticoagulation, and medicine woman. Combined with all the Whoopsiedangleplops and Accifauxpa, the long day with the graphicationalisationing… I went from having been cheered-up with the tumble-luck, to knocked down in spirits again! I just can’t win, can I?

Got the sarnies made up. I hadn’t realised how bad the myasthenia gravis was. On closer inspection, it seemed the hands and fingers were like; if there is such a thing, were suffering a sort of micro-shivering? I had problems with the lids on the beetroot jar, struggled in cutting the tomatoes and apples, a close call or two to slicing a finger, and spreading the bread was a comical affair! The photographing showed all this up, and the blurriness disappointed me. The ingredients of what should have a simple nosh varied greatly. The cooked chicken and sliced on the slicer tomatoes sarnies were alright. The mushroom, cooked for ten-hours in the crock-pot with #Sukang Puti vinegar were fine. The Marmite cheese disc was a little out of date, but tasted marvellous! The mini-side tomatoes were truthfully tasteless! The sliced Cox’s apples, nice. The Baxter’s cooked beetroots, although dangerous to slice, were cooked to perfection. Overall, a Flavour-Rating of 5/10 given.

Got the pots cleaned. Then the handwashing wash washed, wrung and hung up. 

As I got into the xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, second-hand, used, £300, c1968, second-hand recliner, and was feeling a tad sorry for myself.

I do recall feeling sad and frustrated, that things beyond my control, and beyond my powers to solve or prevent, had happened. Perhaps this is meant to be? In my last existence, if I had one, I must have been a right ‘#-*%Zµ⊗]’d! Perhaps, it’s a way of easing departing the earthly life, as it gets less and less appealing? Well, it’s working! Humph!

Inchcock Today – Wednesday 13th November 2019: Never has one had a worserer ending to a day. Tsk!

Wednesday 13th November 2019

Hungarian: 2019 November 13 Szerda

23:15hrs: I fell asleep early and woke up early, back to the old much-missed panicky ‘In-Need-of-the-Porcelain Throne’ habit is back. Out of the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner. That xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward. And he fitted new CCTC cameras, he erected a drone-landing platform outside and searched for my valuables, which he found and took, (I still haven’t got them back yet six-months later). Off to the wet room.

It was a mammoth evacuation, but not messy, aroma-challenging, and no bleeding from the rear-end or Little Inchy. All in all, a fair, but coughing filled session!

Washed and off to the kitchen. Took the medications and made a rich brew of Glengettie Gold tea! Then to the computer, intent of getting the updating of yesterday’s post done. But…

I went to set up the Rice-Cooker ready for later…but the plug would not go in the socket! After spitting, making myself cough worse than ever, and a little blue language, I gave-up! Snottleburgers! I’ll have to inform the supplier late. Grumph!

The computer was working, but so slow! So, I got the ablutions sorted early while I gave it some more time. Not a bad session, a few dropsies that’s all, and with it being so early, no noisy showering.

Back to the computerisationing, things seemed to still be a little slow, but it was working at least. Thank you, Mr Fries! I got on with the updating, and with so many photographs from the After-Stroke Physio visit, and all the altercations to report, it took a monumentally long time to get done.

Then after posting, the Porcelain Throne was required again. It was dichotomously poles-apart from the first one, although still massive in size, it was messy. Bloody and a right stinker-phoo! Also, immediately after the evacuation finished, a wee-weeing of monumental proportions came and came and… well you get the idea, it flowed a lot! I had another bit of a struggle to stem the flow, too! Haha!

I didn’t consider things to be too bad all the same. I was getting back slowly to my regular rotten-luck, unfortunateness, boo-boos, devil’s own luck and ill-fortune. Well, after so many years of failure and my being the headmaster when it comes to coping with hard knocks, omissions and miscalculations, the last few days of having the odd little good fortune, was not a little off-putting and worrying! But I feel things are now getting back to the usual suicidal, depressionalistic style. I alright with this, I’m content, cause I’m used to it.

+: As if it was timed for this blog, a Mega-Whoopsie then happened. The Morrison delivery arrived. Which had the Christmas treats on it… but, the driver spotted that one of the mini-bottles of wine, had been shattered! And he could not leave any stuff in the bad or the one next to it, for fear of shards being delivered! 

Fair enough! I ended up with just two carriers of food being left.

The poor driver cut his finger, trying to sort-out if anything could be delivered from the two carriers. But it was too risky for him to hand anything over. He told me to email Morrison’s with the details. Which was complicated, because they do not supply any paperwork with the delivery! Mind you, none of them does now, I don’t think. I thanked the chap and off he went. I put away the stuff that was delivered, not a big job, and took a picture to send to Morrison’s of the goods I’d received. And went on the email to read the order snipped it, and put it on CorelDraw to put a line through the products that had to be taken back. This cost me a lot of time to get done, but I managed it.

It looked clear enough to me, at least.

Then I formulated the wording so they could understand me plainly enough, ready to use on the email.

At least the roast vegetable risotto meals had been in another carrier bag, so were not affected and were delivered for me to enjoy, perhaps tonight?

Especially as I can’t use the new rice-cooker at the moment. Tsk!

Ah, well, Hey-Ho!

I got on the computer and Google Mail. But could I find an address for the Morrisons Customer-Service? No! I found a direct link that would not let me add photographs, which I’d hoped would save me a lot of writing.

Then, to my utter surprise, I got an email come in from Morrisons!

The driver must have phoned and advised them straight away on leaving Woodthorpe Court for me?

So, Jane and Pete, Mo, Jenny, Deana, Julie, Josie, Cyndy and the others will have to wait for their treats now!

The Intercom flashed and rang out, it was the Ocado delivery. He had the precious Glengettie Gold, and Thompsons teabags. Plus the wonderfully tasty Soul-Food vegetarian chilli and the Milk Roll bread with him! The chap put the things inside for me. Thanked him. The fridge, cupboards and freezer were now chocka-block!

I decided to take some nibbles out in the trolley. I know that Jenny are not it today, it’s their feasting-out day. I’ll take the camera, and nip up to Lidl, no, Aldi on the bus to get some bleach. Back in a while… Hopefully! Immediate change of plans when I saw the wind blowing the hell out of the trees. I’ll go to town on the bus if I can catch it in time.

Out, down in the lift, through the link-passage and called at the Oberstgruppenfhúreress Warden Julie’s and Hauptsturmfhúreress Deana’s holding and interrogation office as I passed it on the way. Left the sourdough and milk roll loaves on the desk for them.

Quick hello to Herbert as he was starting a new jigsaw puzzle off in the main social room, and pressed on to the bus stop. A little drizzle had joined the wind. Not a soul waiting for the bus at the shelter, but there were several folks already on the bus. I got on board the Bestwood routed L9 and had a natter as I settled in a side-saddle seat, by the time I had got down, it was time to get up again to get off in Sherwood. Hehe!

I alighted at the bottom of Winchester Street hill. The L9 bus I’d just got off of can be seen in this photo on the right. I plodded on down to Mansfield Road and turned left, to visit the Ozan International Food Store. I’ve not visited it lately, because with my struggling with the trolley in the narrow aisles and steep steps having to be tackled getting around the store, it is a bit of hard work. However, my desire for their lemon wafers and biscuits gave me the will-power to try again. They had now started to display their fruit and veg outside on the pavement! And the food looked horrible. Withered and unappealing most of it looked. Especially some tomatoes on display, talk about macerated!

I got in and started to have a wander in the shop. Struggling to get the trolley around with me in the narrow aisles, I came to the three steep steps up to the so-called, fresh-foods section. This is where I was in the middle of lifting the trolley as I gingerly stepped up, and had a visit from Dizzy Dennis. Twisted the knees as I had to catch my balance, and Arthur Itis kicked into life! From here on, it was limping around painfully for the rest of the day for me! Tsk! I did get some chicken sausages from the fridge. I’d had these before, and found them tasty and morish in the extreme. Which was silly really, with all the ready-meals I had at home in the fridge and freezer, What a Schmuck! I searched painfully, for some lemon wafers or biscuits without any luck. Until I was making my way limpingly (Gawd, the knees were giving me some gip now!) to the till, and I spotted they had lemon mini-lemon cakes, individually wrapped on display near the counter, and added a pack to the chicken sausages.

Paid the gal, and out and up Mansfield Road! Where I met Welsh William, who told me of another shop closing, a Charity outlet, sadly. So we went in to have a look for any bargains in their Clearance Sale prices. William had left, I nosied at the DVDs, in hopes of finding ‘The Negotiator’ film, but no. Still, at three for a pound, I bought these DVDs, even if I have seen them before (apart from Safe House), at that price.

The knees were bad, I had the occasional stumble when the front wheel of the trolley hit gaps and sticking up bits of the paving slabs or slid on the leaves, causing Back-Pain-Brenda to join in with Arthur Itis giving out the pain. Tsk!

A chap came and held the door open for me at the Post Office stores, as I struggled up the steep steps with the walker-guide to get inside, thank you mate! I didn’t have much success in their either. No puff-pastry fingers or Orange digestives. But I bought a pack of Vienna swirls.

Paid the man, who was on his mobile throughout the time serving me, so I could not ask him if he was going to get any Puff Pastry fingers in stock, and I departed out into the oh, so cold sunshine. Still no rain, and the wind seemed to be dropping.

I meandered stumblingly up to and across the pelican lights over the road. And up the hill to the bus stop. Welsh William was spotted, nipping into the Coral bookies on the corner of Hall Street. It is handily placed for its many customers from Winwood Heights. With the cheap booze shop on the opposite corner, this is a boon for the alcoholics and obsessed, addicted, passionate, fanatical alcoholics and gambling-junkies at our Winwood Heights flats. I’ve only been in a bookie twice in my life, never picked a winner. Did the lottery for several years, without a single win of any size. Did the pools for donkey’s years, and won once, 4/6d (23p) for my £1 stake. So, with my record, it’s no surprise that gambling isn’t for me. But I can see the appeal all the same, for someone who is luckier than I. (Which seems everyone!) Hehehe!.

Got on the 40 bus, with Christine. We hobbled from the Winchester Street stop up to the flats. The leaves were making walking safely difficult, and Chrissie guided me onto the road and kept conk for traffic. A couple of near toppling over incidents en route to the flats. A good job Christine was with me. We nattered away and got to the lift lobby in Woodthorpe Court, where we were met by some other neighbours, Christine, Welsh William, two unknown new residents and myself rode up chinwagging as we went.

I got in the flat, and after a wee-wee, got the nosh sorted out and served up. I had the chicken sausages with a tin of chopped tomatoes and added some passata to it. An apple, a Pop-Kek lemon cake, and a lemon curd yoghourt to follow. I ate rather too much Milk Roll bread with it, though! But it was delicious, a flavour-rating of 7.5/10!

I was feeling suddenly drained, out of energy, which is a regular occurrence, I put the tray on the chair, and simply nodded off into heavenly blissful sleep!

Huh! The landline chirped and flashed into life. I grumblingly freed my cumbersome-plump body from the recliner an answered the call. It was a nurse lady from the Medicines Team. The After-Stroke woman who did the six-month Check-up on me had reported to her that I need assistance and have problems with the medications? She arranged to visit me next Wednesday at 09:30hrs. Oh? I thanked her and took the meal things to be washed up. Had a PWWDIB (Pathetic-Weak-Why-Did-I-Bother) mode wee-wee, and moved the GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency Bucket) to next to the recliner, I think it will likely be needed overnight.

I got settled again in the second-hand, c1968, gungy-beige coloured rickety recliner, and turned on the TV, to watch some ‘Hustle’ DVD. But soon the doubts of whether I had turned off the hot water tap appeared, and I just had to go and check on it, to find all was okay… But it was lucky that I did this because I’d left the hob on the stove one! Self-Disgust-Mode-Adopted!

Back in the recliner, irritated and low in spirits now. I got the DVD back on, with subtitles of course. And was soon back in the land of Nod! Ah, lovely!

The door chime rang out! I gave a sigh of fed-upness, Hauled my weary torso and attached ailments from the rickety recliner, I put on a dressing gown and answered the door, with full comprehensiveness lacking, I must admit. A young lady handed me a parcel of prescription medications. I thanked her and placed them on the kitchen worktop.

I returned to the recliner and got down to rest again. But not for long. Sleep was now refusing to come. My thought-riddled brain would not allow it. Something was wrong, out-of-order, not right, needed doing, whatever it was, it bugged me not knowing! I got up to check that I’d closed the door properly, yep, all done. Then, ‘Had I taken the evening medications yet? The now puddled mind was playing me up. All these interruptions didn’t help, and my temporary dementedness was a handicap too. I thought I’d get up yet again, to check the tablet-blister packs to check on the doses left in.

Entering the kitchen and seeing the pack of medications, it dawned on me what I was worried about – the pack was nowhere near the size it usually is, so I opened it up, to find that there were no Warfarin tablets. No Paracetamols. Also, no Duodenal Donald medicines and no Macrogul sachets! Something else to worry about, and have to sort out! (I forgot all about not taking the evening medications – Grumph!)

Got the computer on and sent an email to the Pharmacist. Turned off, and back to the recliner.

Could I get to sleep again?

Could I Boggleshine!

Inchcockski – Tues 5th Nov 19: Soaked to the skin, Farcical Physio session, and got soaked again going home! Stayed awake to snap the fireworks, but I’m not too hopeful! Asda, cancelled my order?

Tuesday 5th November 2019

Swahili: Jumanne Tarehe 5 Novemba 2019

23:00hrs: Having nodded off early last night, even for me, I stirred into imitation life, with a sore throat, runny nose, a raving thirst, and wind coming out of most of my bodily orifices! Yes, I’ve caught a cold.

I lay there on the Xyrophobia-suffering, house-breaking, Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward, and he fitted new CCTC cameras and searched for my valuables, which he found and took, (I still haven’t got them back yet six-months later). The £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working-but not today, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner, pondering. Should I go to the After-Stroke Physio Session or not today? After hemming and hawing, this remains irresultative. Uncertain, undecided, and undetermined. I certainly don’t have any energy or desire to attend and be ridiculed and embarrassed by wearing the PPs and struggling with the pain of the exercises… Mmm? At the same time, I am the only one of the few patients, that has attended every meeting up to now. But it was so cold in that church hall last week… And they took the piss, silently, but I picked up on it, about my wearing the PP’s as they showed through the trousers… The of Arthur Itis Knees are giving me some stick, and I’ve not even got up on my feet yet, Oh, sod it. I’ll decide later.

I gingerly evacuated the recliner, caught my balance, grabbed the stick, and set off to the kitchen. Got the kettle on, and jiggled the handwashing done last night, and got them on the airers.

I made a good-strong brew of the Thompson tea and took the medications.

Began on the computer to do the updating of the Monday post. The fingertips were a bit bothersome with losing sensitivity when touching anything hard, which meant it took a long time to get done, five hours! However, the internet signal was doing alright for me, up to now. I sent it off to WordPress and then went on the Reader Section.

The Porcelain Throne was needed, and I got to the wet room in plenty of time for once. Not so messy this time at all, but lots of it again, and a bit of bleeding afterwards. However, Little Inchy was not leaking or bleeding, that was good! I changed PP’s and had a close look at the plates-of-meat, after their treatment yesterday. Now I have got to remember to go back in two weeks, to book the next appointment. I’ll put it in the Google Calendar now… All done! I’ll make a Morrison order methinks for next week, while I think of it, and I have time to now, with getting up so ridiculously early again. My EQ tells me to expect tsuris today. So maybe it would be best not to go to the Physio session? Anyway, I’ll get the order made up. All done!

A brew and some flakes, now I’ll get the ablutions done. An amazingly good session this morning. Erm, only two things dropped. Oh, yes! The razor (6), and the soap (3)… oh, and the toothbrush (3). 

It got a  bit repetitive, I must say! Humph!

I got myself ready for the walk in the rain and dark to catch the bus. I piled three rubbish bags on the trolley, and put some cleaned jars for the glass recycling bin. Down and out to Robert’s (Caretaker) area. And despite my best efforts to take a viewable picture of the bin, with only my three sauce bottles, and every other one an alcoholic beverage of some sort. And again, I spotted an empty Absyinth bottle when the flash-flashed, so as to speak. This was the best of several tries, I’ll have to consult Tim Price about this. I’ll beg him to share his expert photographicalisational skills. Many photographs were taken in the dark this morning, and really came put dark, but not all of them. I’m a tad confused as to what I was doing wrong. I was using the Canon camera, as well!

The first photo from outside Woodthorpe Court, on Chestnut Walk. Second, a shop of when I pushed the three-wheeler-guide through a puddle, to clean the wheels before I got on the bus. Oh, I am a good boy! The last one of a Nottingham City Homes -repair van shooting up the hill to the flats, which caught me out! It was about five past seven in the morning, so, either they had an emergency to go to, or they may have left their fags or Guinness in a flat yesterday, maybe? Hahaha! I’m a witty boy, too! (Well, perhaps not!)

The bus arrived, and had to overpay again! With Xyrophobia-suffering, house-breaking, Brother-in-Law Pete half-inching my loose change, and the notes and collectables as well, by the way. Thanks, Peter! The driver did his best to have me on the floor, but I managed to get into a side-saddle seat, alright. As the bus filled up, I was so proud of my dodging any injuries from the Nottinghamian hoards that got on the bus. I decided cunningly, that once in the city I’ll call at Tesco first for bread and Flaky-Pastry fingers. Then out of the shopping centre into Milton Street and down to the Poundland shop, that should be open by then. Before hobbling to the St Andrew’s with Castle Gate URC Church. The rain made me move a little quicker than I would have liked.

I took a snap of the giant electronic advertising board as I crossed the road after getting off of the bus. This turned out to be another of the extremely dark for some reason pictures? It baffled me, why? I walked the length of the mall to the other end, and into Tesco. No rush, I had plenty of time, so I went on a bargain or treat hunt! Which took some time. I came put with: Treats for Christmas (I just hope the bomb works for Brother-in-Law Pete!) Hahahaha, only joking, honest! Milk Roll bread, pack of puff-pastry fingers, and some biscuits for the gang at the After-Stroke Physio Torture, I mean session.

I had a mini-funny-turn as I left the checkout. But it was not a prolix or sustained one, though, and I was back on the hobble within minutes – out into the wet, drenched Milton Street. I’m a bit of a pluviophile, but the wind and cold with the precipitation took the edge off of my enjoyment. Especially with trying to control the guide and the umbrella! Made my way to Parliament Street Poundland store.

I got some nibbles for the break at the physio, some orange chocolate digestives for myself, some cough and cold medicine/linctus for children, that might help ease my sore throat. I paid at the self serve-tills, and stood outside under the cover and took some photographs of Parliament Street to the left and right.

Off to the church hall, and found there were eight stroke-survivors there already, and the nurse and Obergruppenfurheress team leader. I handed the nibbles on the counter in the kitchen area.

The gang didn’t seem to keen when I asked a few of them of they were doing alright. Precious answered me though, lovely woman, who later I was paired with again, for the exercises along with the Nigerian lady who is still struggling with the language. Still, smiles and laughs helped the three of us to communicate. Doing the bending of the knees exercise’s were excruciating, not that anyone other than I was interested. Haha! Precious and the other gal and I, still managed a few giggles.

When we moved on from the stepping up routine to the sit and stand one, I wanted to tell the nurse I could not cope with it, but foolishly persevered, until I fell over missed the chair, fell over and took the trolley guide down with me. They were anxious and concerned for me… they ask me, “How did you do that?” – I told them I didn’t know, and the nurse told me to leave this exercise out and just sit there until you move on to the next one!” I sat there until I moved on to the next one! Oy Vey!

When the to me silly gentle music and a voice speaking so low I cannot hear them session started, I moved away, which did not go down too well. I was sorry, but a voice (even if I could listen to it), telling me to think of a beach, and the water and sunshine, dangle your feet in the… You get the idea? It does not calm me down, I was already calm, despite my clattering to the floor and being soaking wet. Hehe!

We had drinkies, and the nibbles were handed out. This week they were soon wolfed-down and pleased me muchly. In the games of bowls, the two gals who were partnered with me earlier won a game each, Smashing! I made sure the others joined my clapping and congratulating them. It cheered them both up a little, and I felt great!

Unfortunately, once again, we finished the session, just as the L9 bus would be leaving Queen Street. So I had another hour to wait for the next one. I said my farewells, got wet and a hundred yards or so down the road, and returned for the carrier bag of fodder I’d left in the hall. What a Yutz I am!

I hobbled down to the slab square. I took photographs from left to the right.

Then I went into the book shop on Long Row – a fatal move. I spotted a 1950’s book on the cars of the time. Of course, I bought it! Tsk!

I made my way to Queen Street and decided to catch the 40 bus. It was only a few minutes before the L9 was due, but this bus gets close to the flats in about ten-minutes quicker than the L9 does. Mind you, I then have to tackle crossing the road on the steep hill and sharp bend, but still, I enjoyed getting soaked again, waiting for a gap in the traffic! Oh, dearie me!

I got down Chestnut Walk eventually, the. And took this picture of Winwood Heights in the rain.

Then I dropped the umbrella after taking the photo, and it could not have landed more perfectly, right on my corn! Argh!

As I limped on towards home. I had to get off of the pavement, to avoid getting some of the thousands of leaves on the wheels of the trolley guide. Then having to spend ages in the rain cleaning it up to get it free of detritus enough to go inside the flats.

So, I walked in the roadway, through an unseen puddle! And ended up with squelching sounds coming from the socks and shoes!

At this stage, my confidence and willpower were being tested to the full! And I was losing! Hahaha!

I got to in through the Winwood Court lobby and walked along the link-passage into Woodthorpe Court. By gum, it was cold in the Woodthorpe Court lift lobby! Where the lads were working still, on the Fire Sprinkler installation, as you can see in the picture here.

Up in the lift, and into the flat. The thirst was still at its height, and I got the kettle on to have a mug of Thompson tea and took the evening medications.

I pondered about what to do next. The Asda delivery is due, but not until 1830 > 2030hrs.

I didn’t need any wee-wees (A little worrying that!) I decided to have milk roll sarnies, ham and tomatoes, and maybe a few chips? But not until the fodder had been delivered.

I set about updating this blog. The fingers, arm, shoulder, and right leg were not wicked at all? I worked away like a good un, for about five hours, then at long last, I needed a wee-wee. A disappointing VWYSAO (Very-Weak-Yet-Spraying-All-Over), but very little actually flowed?

I heard some banging and knocking, and went to see if the Fire Sprinkler lads were in the lobby, but it was some carpet fitters doing Josie’s new floor covering. I nipped out with a mini-bottle of Gordon’s Gin for her. She asked me if I was trying to get her drunk. I replied, “Oh, yes!” Hahaha!

I had a look-out from the crumbling balcony, to see if any fireworks were going off to photograph yet, but there were none in sight.

I imagine they will be on show later on. But will I stay awake long enough?

Half an hour later, it was getting very murky out there, but no signs of any Guy Fawkes festivities yet. I took a shutter-priority and Night view picture of roughly the same area. Oh, heck, they did come out disappointingly!

The intercom would not let me view the entrance door at all! But it did show No missed calls and Do Not Disturb option not chosen. So, had the Asda delivery arrived, I think I should have heard or seen the light come on?

As the Asda-Walmart delivery was awaited, I took some shots of the fireworks.

The last one of the above is only of the moon: I missed the rockets going up. Huh!

I made the sarnies and bagged them and back into the fridge for after the Asda-Walmart delivery arrives. I put the TV on with subtitles and watched it in silence, not wanting to miss hearing the food coming. Hours later, I was wondering if they had delivered to the wrong flat?

So, I checked on the Emails, to find this on there from Asda! I was gutted!

All the staying up late and depriving myself of sleep again! Mind you, other retailers have done this to me before, with no real reason. Tesco (2), Morrison (1) Iceland (3), and this is the second time that Asda-Walmart has let me down. I can get melancholy, cynical, distrustful, curmudgeonly, suicidal, and mardy, you know! He-he!

Pee’d off with things now! I got the sarnies put did the chips and piled other stuff on the plate. Until I saw this photo, I wasn’t sure what I had attempted to eat.

I was feeling irritated and belligerent! But as for eating, this did not happen, I fell asleep, waking four hours later, finding that I had tipped the whole meal into the waste bin, all the fodder, fork and spoon included! I was struggling to breathe, the sore throat and cough started off… More to follow on tomorrows revealing episode of, The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe. Unless I snuff it, but that’s only to be expected!

TTFNski.

Inchcock Today – Saturday 12th October 2019: Horrendous, unsettling day. Got the runs now! What next?

Saturday 12th October 2019

Malagasy: Alahady 12 Oktobra 2019

 03:30hrs: I woke up, feeling fed-up and wee’d-off, with feeling fed-up and wee’d-off! Even if the failed turn-ups from Nottingham City Homes every single day this week, and also if they do arrive on Monday next (Eight days after the hot water supply failed on me) as promised again; I’ll have a minimum five-hour plumbing job, Draining of the tank, new parts fitted, Removal, moving of storage tank with all the resulting mess and cleaning up to do afterwards, refitting of the storage tank, refilling of the storage tank, then wait for the electrician to arrival and reset and get the water-heater going – Mind you, let’s look back at the promised arrivals and the actual arrivals this past week: 

  1. Monday: Promised arrival 1 – Actual arrivals 0
  2. Tuesday: Promised arrival 1 – Actual arrivals 0
  3. Wednesday: Promised arrival 2 – Actual arrivals 0
  4. Thursday: Promised arrival 1 – Actual arrivals 0
  5. Friday: Promised arrival 3 – Actual arrivals 2 – But the job had been mistimed and could not be actuated. Thus, more promises for getting the job next Monday!

My confidence has been shattered, as has my will-power, faith, trust and hopes.

I had and still do, to use the shower have to fill the wet room sink to wash and shave, the results: Slipped on the wet floor rag – injured elbow, hurt back. Scalded when taking a pan of hot water from the kitchen and got the Peripheral Neuralgia shakes, causing me to drop the container! This has happened twice. Burnt the back of my hand when collecting pans from the stove, same reason, the shakes.

The worst one perhaps was dropping a saucepan in the kitchen, and the ensuing pain form Back-Pain Brenda when I bent down to retrieve the pan and lid, then the added discomfort from Rheumatoid Arthur Itis’s knees! But, there is plenty of time for more injuries before the promised (possibly) arrival on Monday of the plumber then, an electrician. But they have still got plenty of reasons not to come yet again in their filing cabinet, I’m sure. As Warden Deana quoted the maintenance team member she had been talking to last Monday, ‘Well it’s not an emergency, he can use the shower to get hot water!’ So, it’s my fault, it seems? I do apologies!

Luckily, all this failure to communicate, incompetency in arrangements, mental torment, and injuries I’ve suffered all week waiting for help, don’t bother me in the slightest. Lie Mode Engaged!

Oh dear, I’m mind-blasting again, sorry.

After stewing in self-pity for a while, I reticently disentwined my abdominous, well-upholstered, wobbly chassis from the Xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting, when I was in the Stroke Ward, and he fitted new CCTC cameras, and searched for my valuables, which he found and took, (I still haven’t got them back yet five-months later), £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner.

Off to the GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency Bucket), for a wee-wee. But where was it? Nowhere to be seen? Had I been nocturnally wandering again? I searched without any luck, for so long, that I needed the Porcelain Throne, off to the wet room. Hoping the bucket might be in there as well, but no! I’d held back the wee-wee for so long, I had to whip down the pants and relieve myself straight away – and what a surprise I got! It turned out to be a wee-wee of the CMOUSTSTBOWV (Catching-Me-Out-Unwilling-Slow-To-Start-Then-Blasting-Out-With-Venom) style! There were few areas of the room that had not been caught in the splashback-spray! I had to clean myself and the surfaces with antiseptic disinfectant, wipe the walls and mop the floor! I kid you not!

After what seemed like an eternity, I got around to depositing my bum on the throne, ready for releasal activities. Boy, there was a lot of it this time, too! A little messy.

Which was surprising really, cause I ate only a small meal last night, of Dagwood sarnies and a few chips. It was possibly the Soul Food Chilli from Thursday that was working its way through? And, I’ve still got a pot of it left to eat yet, Hehe!

To the kitchen, using the new multi-pronged walking stick! Made a brew, and got the medications taken. Realising, due to the tablets still being in last nights blister pack, that I had not taken last nights doses! What a plonker!

So, I took just one Warfarin, hoping this would be the best thing to do, to avoid over-dosing and getting the blood too thin. Especially with the chances of blisters from scolding with having to take the boiling water to the wet room for shaving later!

I returned to the front room, and the computer was booted, and, I realised I had come back from the kitchen with one of the wooden sticks. Needing to get some practice with this stick’s multi-legs, I returned to collect it and swap it with the wooden one, si there is one in each room at all times. But I found myself walking passed the new stick several times before the brain ‘stopped looking for a wooden stick’. Hmm, clot! It was standing up on its own near the stack of storage boxes, which are also grey. But, I am probably looking to assuage my stupidy here! Haha!

Back to Junk Room 2 and went on the WordPress reader section. Answered some comments. Then started this blog off.

The finger-ends sensitivity was terrible this morning. Typing anything was taking me an age! Correcting spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, an clearing the odd row of unfelt to the fingers-tips single letters, where I’s and E’s were the worst offenders, as is to be expected, they are both typed using the Peripheral neuralgia affected right-hand digits to type. Being a person of the volgivagant kind, I think actually helps me to accept these ailments or issues, more readily. Certainly more readily than I can accept being pissed about and lied to for over a week, over the hot water repair job! (Steady Inchcock, don’t get yourself going again, or you might have another stroke!)

I went to make another brew of tea, using the multi-prong-footed walking stick. When I say using the multi-prong-footed walking stick, I don’t mean to make the char with, I mean walking to the kitchen with. Hahaha!

The white moon was out, and I took a photographicalisation of it. Not a good one, but still, I did my bestest with the sensitiveness absent in the fingers and all that.

I was summoned by the innards to go back to the Porcelain Throne, so I did! The evacuation was swift, but again, messy! A look at the pins (legs) made me take a picture of them. Oh, so different to yesterday’s photo of the same legs; they seem to change several times a day! The Tate gallery should show these photographs. I’m not sure in which section they should be in, though! Haha!

I went to make another brew to replace the one that had gone cold. And there were a lot of Crows, breakfast hunting and baby-birds training, out there suddenly. By the time I’d power-hobbled to fetch the camera and got back with it, the birds were few and far between. This sad effort on the right is the best I could manage. Substandard, unsatisfactory, shoddy, schlocky and egregious, second-grade photographicalisationing, I know. And this is one of my better bird in flight efforts! Tsk!

I went on the TFZer site on Facebook, with a lot of catching up to do. Which took me two hours!

Sudden crave for food? (And sleep, rest, peace, and mental quietude) I did not feel well at all, but this didn’t seem to curb my desire for food, and so early in the day, too!

I got the Soul Food Chilli in the saucepan and added, sliced tomato, black bean sauce, and a pinch of salt to the mix.

 I turned off the computer and returned to stay in the kitchen for the heating up and constant stirring of the nosh. Then I took this photo of the sky outside. Realising in the morning when I got the picture on the computer, I had somehow changed the camera setting for the picture size or shape. I do remember the shaking jumping hand when I took the snap, but have no idea how or what I did to change things.

I’ll leave them as they are, I think. I’m certainly not up to trying to sort it out now.

Got the nosh served up. Good as it tasted, I found I was battling to stay awake while eating it. Flavour-rating: 8/10. I think that I must have got the seasoning different to last time. Humph!

I left the bowl and spoon in the bowl in the sink, after having so annoyingly had to boil water in the kettle and large saucepan, to cover them, to let the things soak.

Into the Xyrophobia-suffering crook and Brother-in-Law Pete, damaged, second-hand, c1968 recliner, and I soon fell asleep, as the innards began to rumble!

But not sleep for long! I woke in need of a Porcelain throne visit. I hobbled to the wet room as fast as I could – but embarrassingly did not make it on time – such was the grip that Diarrohea Donald (Chilli?) suddenly had over me! Thank heavens for two things; the evacuation was not overly messy and for the PP’s!

Exhausted from the hubble-bubble of getting to the Throne on time, and the cleaning up after the session, I then had to boil some water to wash and antisepticise things! Worryingly, the stomach continued to grumble?

Head down again, but sleep was resistant this time. I put theTV on, and that worked a treat, Zzzz!

Until the landline phone light and ring sounded and woke me up again! Twas the chemist, telling me they would deliver the prescriptions in about an hour! Another waking-up – I nearly cried, I wanted to!

So, I thanked him and rose to get the kettle and all the pans on the stove, to boil water for a wash and shave, before the pharmacist arrived with the medications.

True to their word, the friendly pleasant waking-me-up chemist people arrived, just as I was finishing the wash, and treating the scold mark on my tummy from the splashed hot water, from the saucepan-to-sink transference! (Thank you, Nottingham City Homes Maintenance Managers).

I got the medications inside and checked them.

I noted that they had sent two months supply this time. There must be a Bank Holiday coming up soon then.

I checked in the morning, but could not see any Bank Holidays, until December? 

I was still so weary, I just left the medications on the trolley, they can be put away later when I’m feeling better. Which if left to Nottingham City Homes Maintenance, means when (if) they do get the hot water flowing again, they can always leave a note with the Funeral Parlour, to go in the coffin to let me know! (Tired, In-pain Pissed-off Sarcasm Mode Adopted). Hahaha! Mind you, there is a radical alternative to burial and cremation, it’s called Alkaline Hydroysis,  (Sound like lone of my ailments, Hehehe!) that I fancy having. A “gentle, eco-friendly alternative to flame-based cremation” using an alkaline solution made with potassium hydroxide to reduce the body to a skeleton. (Providing Nottingham City Homes Maintenance don’t kill me first [Good bit of sarcasm slipped in there!], not that it will. But, after over a week of nothing happening in response to my hot-water problem, apart from failed promises, and not a word from the NCH men in charge, I think it is fair for me to feel aggravated! And I am! Waiting in for non-arriving appointments, mega sleep-deprivation, accidents caused through transporting hot water by kettle and saucepans… still, are they bothered? Even after calls from my After-Stroke Support worker! A well-scripted letter to a newspaper about this might be a good idea? With me having so many ailments that the NCH are not interested in, Anne Gyna, Dizzy Dennis attacks, falling-over, tripping up, Duodenal Donald ulcer, Bladder cancer, the plastic heart valve fitted, RAI (Rheumatoid Arthur itis), Harold Haemorrhoid’s and the fungal lesion bleeding merrily away. Peripheral Neuralgia, that has caused me mobility problems, and left me with the right side of my body, leg, fingers, hands, arm, and even the shoulder, doing their occasional unintentional Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance routines. Then having the stroke, to name but a few. It beggars belief that any septuagenarian tenant in poor health, can be lied to for five days on the trot, being told someone will come out, and they did not! It is now eight-days since the hot water failed in my apartment in this high-rise, so-called £11m Retirement Village. Another assurance that the problem will be tackled next Monday has still to be proven or disproven! And I am so dejected and depressed by the failure to respond and help me. They do not even communicate directly but leave it to the Warden and men who did finally arrived on Friday, but too late in the day to carry out the repairs, for me to glean any details from. My abilities have lessened so much since the Stroke, and nobody seems to understand this.

A pity the News of the World isn’t still going, they might have taken up my cause. Hehehe! Who else can I take my complaint to? How do I go about it? Should I bother? Does anyone care? Probably not! No doubt the maintenance team must be under pressure, I understand this, and I am sympathetic about it. But the total lack of communication is really irking! If they cannot come for any of the daily arranged appointment (6 of them!), I wis they had a way of letting me now, then I would not have to make myself poorlier, by not getting any sleep while waiting to find out if they are coming or not, for six days on the trot, sleep deprivation was suffered, and this has caused my various ailments to give me a hard time healthwise. Nuff said! (Probably too much, enough to upset them. I’m worried now that moaning might make things worse for me. I could even be classed as a trouble-maker, and lose the flat?

The above passage above came from frustration and the heart. I just hope that someone in charge reads and absorbs it. It certainly isn’t nit-picking, but of genuine concern, well, to me at least!

I had a rather sad wee-wee of the WYSAO (Weak-Yet-Spraying-All-Over) style and almost tripped myself up with the new walking stick. Easily done for me. It stands upon the four little legs on its own, and I’d forgotten it was there as I reached for the regular wooden stick, walking into the new one as I did. It’s going to take some getting used to this metal stick is.

Back and got my head down again. Sleep was hard to encourage, so I put the TV on again… then, I needed yet another Porcelain Throne Session! Another panic-flap-rush to the Throne. Again resulting in a very embarrassing, uncomfortable and cringe-worthy early escapage! The evacuation was over quickly, but not the cleaning up!

Thanks to the non-response of Nottingham City Home maintenance, this meant again, my boiling water on the stove and kettle, to clean up with. A burn on the side of the hand on the saucepan, was the only injury this time. But the Peripheral Neuralgia shakes, meant as expected it would, in spillages of hot water in the transporting of the saucepans form the kitchen, and even dropping an empty pan on the way back to fill it up again. Which caused more pain from Arthur Itis and Anne Gyna as I had to clear it up, once more, my disgust at the way I had been treated by Nottingham City Homes, came to the fore!

It’s a bloody good job my mate helped out with the PP supply! I’m going through them like they were biscuits! Hehehe!

Back yet again to the £300, second-hand recliner, in search of sleep. Phwert! It took ages coming!

Yours, Lucky Inchcock. (Fib-detected!)

Inchcockski – Tuesday 8th October 2019: A long, hard, stressful, traumatic day, so a long diary. Sorry!

Tuesday 8th October 2019

Icelandic: Þriðjudaginn 8 Október 2019

01:00hrs: I woke up with an instant mind-storming session rattling away in the fount of missing knowledge/wisdom/advice/ideas etc. brain-box; fears, worries, frustrations, bad memories, trials, and tribulations. The lack of hot water, and how I will manage to cope with bringing hot water from the kitchen to the wet room to do the ablutions was the main worry. Closely followed by, ‘Will the plumber arrive this afternoon, tonight, or the Wednesday morning, afternoon, or night… or later?’ ‘Will he call at all?’ The third in line in the fretting stakes were; ‘Should I not go to the After-Stroke session after all, and stay in, just in case they do arrive this morning’… which started the whole circle of predicaments, quandaries, catch-22s, hassles, and hindrances all over again! It was a good while before things settled, and the almost panicking situation resolved itself when a wee-wee was needed, quickly followed by the Porcelain Throne requirement needing attention.

I heaved my ever-augmenting, accrescent, wobbly-porkodile body out of the Xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-law Pete knackered while he was flat-sitting, when I was in the Stroke Ward, and he fitted new CCTC cameras, and searched for my valuables, which he found and took, (I still haven’t got them back yet four-months later), £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working, but not often nowadays, recliner, and took a PWWDIB (Pathetic-Weak, Why-Did-I-Bother) mode wee-wee in the GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency Bucket). Then to the wet room, and enjoyed a not too messy evacuation session.

Then I tended, to avoid doing it later, and it needed tackling, to the ablutions. Regrettably, the hardest and messiest I have ever taken in my time here in the flats! Talk about painful! I dare not use the shower to fill the sink, as suggested by Warden Deana, because of the noise it makes when the water goes down the drain, and when it works. Certainly not at this time in a morning! I went to the kitchen and got the saucepans filled and on the rings, put the kettle on, and returned to the wet room to do the teeth-cleaning. All okay up to hear, this is where it got uncomfortable!

I fetched a pan of hot water from the stove ring, and as I reentered the wet room, the right leg launched into one of its imitation Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance routines. Resulting in a stubbed toe, dropping the saucepan, burning my foot and clouting my head on the sink when I tried to retrieve the pan from the floor! Then I had to go to get some more hot water again!

I was not interested much about washing when I got back. The shaving was done in a half-hearted fashion, and with more than a little… what’re the best words to describe how I was feeling? Erm? Pissed-offedness, I’d had enough of things going wrong! That might represent my emotional state at the time bestest! I was irritable, annoyed, self-critical, shirty, snarky, and now sore-headed! The brain-blast started again as I was drying myself and applying the medications to specific areas in need of it! ‘Will the plumber arrive this afternoon or not?’ Will I catch the 40 bus on time?’ How can I get caught up on blogging?’ ‘Why did fate make me not look at the note about Pete passing away?’ ‘How come the RAI (Rheumatoid Arthur Itis) in both knees kicking off again, just before the After-Stroke session?’ ‘Will I find the exact £2.30 in cash for the bus fare as needed?’ There was much more waffling and nervous thoughts being bandied-about from the brain, but I lost interest in them after I’d knocked over the bloody sock-glide! Now, I was worried in case the noise had disturbed someone! When drying the rear-end, a sore spot was felt. I got the camera to investigate – fancy that, it was a boil! I shan’t show the photo. Gawed, I was on a downer! 

A smidge of self-pity showed itself for a moment. ‘Not my fault, all this shirty, snarky, and now sore-headed! The muddle, disarray, fracas, hullabaloo and chaos, was not caused by me doing anything wrong, surely? No one list… and then I pulled myself together, silently offered some insults and put-downs for my abhorrent thoughts and pathetic mawkish, maudlin approach to the difficulties. I didn’t clean the wet room after the ablutions, cause that would mean more carrying of hot water (Too risky!) ‘Will the plumber arrive… ‘Oh, shut up Inchcock!’

I took the medications and made a brew of tea. On to the computer to update as much as I could. As I got typing, that famously annoying whing, humming sound from outside (I think anyway), was the loudest it had ever been? I wanted to know what was causing it, others can hear it as well. It was extra-teeth-grittingly-pesterous this morning!

I felt a little better when I had got the updating finished and sent off. About four hours it took me to do, a lot of photographs to get on. Very few wee-wees needed during this time, and several mugs of tea were made and let go cold. Haha! I posted the blog, then some stuff to Pinterest. Then I caught up with the TFZer Facebooking. But there was no time to start this post off, as I had to prepare myself, get things sorted out, to catch the 40 bus to town. I found the right cash for the bus fair.. no, Bus Fare! Tsk! It’s the thought of Xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law using my money to go to the fair that caused that mistake I think!

I have no idea why, but I was definitely feeling perkier now, as I galloped around checking I had everything needed. I set off but returned to make sure that I had not left anything on that I shouldn’t have and had turned off what needed being turned-off. Sad innit?

I went through the link-passage, into Winwood Court, and out through the foyer entrance doors. The morning was dark, dank and a little wet, with a fair wind blowing, and not a warm one. Glad I put the jumper on now.

As I hastened to the bus stop on Winchester Street, I found that I was singing to myself, I even remember the song. ‘Walking Back to Happiness’ by Helen Shapiro, her first song as a 14-year-old, and a number one hit! I remembered a lot of the lyrics, too? I can’t understand how she didn’t answer my letter her all those years ago. I fancied her something rotten!

Waiting at the bus stop, the incredible cloud formation was coming up in the distance, it almost looked like a Sunami! Bit of an eerie picture this one, methinks. Especially as the hands and fingers were doing a little dancing when I took this photograph.

The 40 bus got even fuller with passengers than the one last week did! But at least I was prepared for it this week. I got the three-wheeler right tight up to my legs,  and the ankle-snappers getting on and off, did far less damage to my feet and legs this time. At one stage, the driver had to herd them to the back of the bus, to allow more folks on the bus. Hilarious it was – watching about fifteen schoolkids all moving to the rear, and all bar one were on their mobiles! Hehe!

I stayed on the bus to the terminus on Queen Street, to avoid too much walking in the drizzle. I Hobbled down into the Slab Square, and took this photo of the Council House, with again, an amazing sky in the background.

I limped slowly to go around the square, and along towards Wheeler Gate.

One of the infamously ignorant Nottinghamian Pavement cyclists passed by, and I turned to snap him as a school lad was sidestepping to avoid the idiot hitting him! Grumph!

I took a shot over the Slab Square, towards Wheeler Gate, where my destination of the Poundland shop was based. Mainly, I took the chance to catch yet another great and fantastic skyline again! How the sky was so bright and everything else in the dark, captivated my attention!

I snapped the picture below, to show the different styles of building in the City Centre. The decaying, the new, the old, the being repaired, and some of the many thousands of student apartments. Not one of my best photos, but I did zoom in a lot to take it, and the fingers were a bit wobbly at the time.

I had a steady nosey around Poundland. I bought a lot of stuff this morning. Tunnock’s for the nibble bag. Some pens, twenty for a quid! Bread rolls. Two large bags of Twiglets (A sad story to follow later about these!) Fabric softener. Mini-sausages. Nuts. And, a 2020 diary for a quid! I paid at the self-service tills and made my way to the front of the shop, to redistribute the things between the trolly bag and the carrier. (The sad part is I took out the two Twiglet bags while sorting, and left then on the shelf, leaving without them! What a draycup!)

As I left the shop, I came across this piece of Nottinghamian Street Art near the taxi rank. Whatever the contents were, they didn’t go down very well with the purchaser, did they? Perhaps, over-alcoholic intake might have played a part? Haha!

I had another walk around the Slab Square.

And again I was nearly clobbered, my an arrogant, uncaring, dangerous, self-centred, and egotistic young male Nottinghamian Pavement Cyclist. Argh!

One more recordable almost exciting sky v land contrasting view was taken.

I have to say that some of the locals actually had smiles on their faces! Not many, mind!

The place was abuzz with student and schoolchildren.

A smartly dressed young lady Pavement Cyclist passed by, and she nearly came off of the kerb onto the tramlines at one stage, but she was alright.

More Nottingham Street at was spotted. McDonald’s nosh this time. I had a little memory prompting thought pattern at this stage. I recalled the original Wimpey Bar we had, on Maid Marion Way. Or more precisely, a girl who worked there. Why now, after all of my capabilities have left me, died, gone away, am I thinking of things I can no longer do? Hehehe!

Walking up Market Street on my way to the Church Hall for the meeting, I spotted some new Notti0nghamian Street art. Vandals, winos, druggies or drunks, had smashed a window in a shop some poor devil was getting ready to open. Grumph!

Along Goldsmith Street, the college and student stronghold, I spotted more Nottingham Street art!

I arrived a little early and remembered the look of derision I got when I was early at last weeks After-Stroke Physio session.

So I had a little walkabout, as the day finally grew a tad lighter, and the sunshine, cold as it was, broke through. I walked down the hill, then back up and to the other side of the road, back towards the church. As I crossed again over Goldsmith Street, yet another Nottingham Pavement Cyclist was spotted! A student, I assume.

I approached the doorway to the church. There were five patients in there, and a different nurse, the same droll, matter-of-fact, book-checking lady was in charge. And we six were all that arrived today! I handed some nibbles over.  We seem to be dwindling in numbers? The session went wellish and passed quickly enough, but, the Arthur Itis ridden knees gave me a fair amount of hassle and pain.

They tell me that when the silly-to-me relaxation tape was played, I fell asleep and snored rather loudly! Red-Face-Adopted!

The nurse took my BP. It was 160 sys, Dia 100. She said the pulse and temp’ was very high but did not reveal what they were. Ah, well, with all the hassle, I wasn’t surprised.

When it came to where we would usually do the social bowling game, a rather good looking handsome well dressed and muscular bloke arrived, to give us a talk on what to eat and why, etcetera. I didn’t like him, young, had his own hair, didn’t wear hearing aids or glasses… Huh! The lesson lasted about an hour, I took to him later. Haha! It turned out amusing and exciting at times, humour was used cleverly as he told us off.

With aching limbs, I said my farewells and departed. And blow-me-dow with a feather duster the same lorry as last week was unloading on Goldsmith Street, so I had to go over the road and take a different route. Not that it mattered, I’d missed the L9 bus home anyway. 

A Deliveroo pavement Cyclist lurked about, but he was far enough away from me!

So, I caught the 40 bus. The three-way traffic lights at the roadworks needed a bit of care in getting over and through, but all was okay. The hobble back to the flats was a bit uncomfortable, but the mind was racing again now… Has the plumber been? Will he come this afternoon or tonight? Maybe in the morning? No one is keeping me informed of the situation.

I called in the Wardens Holding-cell room, to ask if they knew anything about the plumber. But Hauptbereitschaftsleiteress Warden and Ice-skating Champion Deana was not in, she was out and about. Obersturmführer and Catwalk Model Warden Julie, only knew that someone else had the same problem, but could advise me of nothing about the plumbing situation. I handed out the nibbles, thanked her. 

Then I was off on the way home via the link-passage to Woodthorpe Court. I put the buys away. This was when I realised I had no Twiglets in the bags! I actually remembered taking them out in the shop when I changed the bags. What a plonker!

I had a job to get the intercom camera to work. It was showing fault when I tried to view it several times. I tried setting without any luck. So I thought I’d take a picture of the ‘Fault’ sign on the panel. Got the camera, and it was working! Ah, well! Tsk!

I took another snap of the view from the kitchen window. Which was a pleasant one!

I made a start updating this blog, with so many photographs again, and the finger-ends not recognising touch still, I spent many hours, frustrated and annoyed with things.

Put the kettle on, and readied the stuff for the meal later. Unsure of when I can make it, though. Still no word about whether the plumbers will be calling or not today or tonight. Christ! It is night already! Hours passed my head-down time already! But I must not fall asleep, just in case something really fantasmagorical happens – like a plumber arriving! Sarcasm-Mode-Adopted there, did you notice? Haha!

I went out on the crumbling balcony, to do battle with the window openers, and take this picture on the left, at an angle of the end of Chestnut Drive, and to check to see if I could see any Nottingham City Homes vans about. None!

Back to updating again. Getting dark a bit now. I’m tired-out and so annoyed at not being kept in the picture about the repairs. Whenever they come, it would have nice to have been informed. And of course, I still have no hot water, so face the same farce and struggle to do the ablutions in the morning! I’m really fed-up now! 

I pressed on with the blogging, ever-struggling more to keep awake. It must be 46 hours since I reported the problem, and I’ve only had 6 hours of sleep in that time. Gone through the Stroke Physio session, done a fair bit of walking, too.

Bad-Luck has infested my life. Good-Luck shies away from me. I’m getting to the stage of not being able to cope with any more bad news, failings etcetera.

I can’t concentrate anymore. I’ll get the fodder sorted out, and try to stay awake long enough to eat it.

BBQ rice, with dashes of light soy sauce, balsamic vinegar, sliced tomatoes and half a little jar of black bean sauce. And, of course, they told not to eat after I’d bought the mini-sausages. These are going to be hard to resist in the future. Tired out and depressed as I was feeling, this nosh went down a treat! Taste-rating of 9.25/10 granted. An umami delicious, lip-smacking, cornucopial feast!

So much so, that I somehow dropped the limoncello, and later when I rose to clean the pots, I stod on it…

While I was boiling the water to clean the plate etc. (What a bind!) the mind started to work again… Would the plumber arrive this late? How can I get the handwashing done? I dare not go out until they have been! I’m shattered! Is it worth the fight anymore? And so on!

I managed to stay awake until ten o’clock. Which in itself, should make me eligible for an award of some sort. Hehehe!

While thinking it was time now that I can get some sleep – I fell asleep! And did so for eight-hours straight! Plainly, much-needed, but I woke up after the start-time for the Ocado delivery. Which set me off, panicking, fretting, worrying again: Will the Nottingham City Homes plumber arrive in the morning? Or will he not? I’ll have to stay indoors, just in case! Will someone actually contact me? Will someone advise me of their ETA? The last two thoughts were right idiotic ones!

I hope things get sorted soon.

TTFNski.