Inchcock: Diary & Ode Sat 28th May 2022

MEANDERING MORNING ODE

That should be befuddlement. Ahem!

Looking Back…
In my 20’s, I was known for my efficient fecundity…
Now due to Doreen’s Dementia, I fear discongruity,
I was fit, capable, popular, lit up a room fulgently…
The mind and body fail, leaving inefficacity,
I was praised for my willpower and social feracity!
Now, I am full of inconsequentiality, inferiority,
Decisions were made, taken almost nonchalantly…
Now my brain’s shared twixt dormancy, quiescently,
The few decisions I make now, I do negligently!

The Ailments…
The ailments increasing, I try to meet acceptingly.
When they first started, I reacted rather petulantly…
Some of the new ones give me hassle persistently,
Glaucoma Gladys, Cartilage Cathy & Cataract Kathy,
One that can be nasty is Peripheral Neuropathy…
Nicodemus’ Neurotransmitters can have me falling,
Deaf Duane in both ears, Duodenal Donald, appalling!
Saccades Sandra, makes me see blurry,
The ankle gives way after the Stroke every day.
Hard to keep my balance, but I recover gradually…
The jumping away can have me off of the settee!

On Reflection…
There’s no benefit in moaning and grumbling,
If you’re going to go over, it’s only tumbling…
How hard and where you fall can leave you bleeding…
But a scrape and a bruise is the likeliest thing…
Somehow, I get through them without hospitalising,
I must have had more luck without realising…
At five, I was thrown into the canal, nearly drowning,
I’ve been shot twice and got a battering…
How I’m still here is somewhat baffling…

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

SATURDAY 28TH MAY

04:20hrs: After so many jumping awakes, I had my last one. I was fed up with not sleeping for more than ten minutes or so and got up for a wee-wee. Which proved to be the reason I stayed up…

① Getting the jammie bottoms untied to whip them down, I got in a right mess. The waste cord knot was not to be unknotted!

There I was, fumbling to get the cord untied, and the pre-dribbling started! The embarrassment and panic of the warm wet sensation trickling down my inner legs and jammies made unlocking the knot even harder to get done… I gave up and forced things down… But there was worse to come…

③ I felt the pain as I got over the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), and the bladder was hurting. It felt, to me, like a torrent as if a fireman’s hosepipe was being released… But no! On closer inspection, it was barely trickling, and what bit was coming out sprayed all over the place! But there was worse to come…

④ I saw the blood on my hands as I manipulated things to avoid my having splashes on the carpet.

⑤ Yes, Little Inches Fungal Lesion was bleeding; I suppose all the rushing and pulling to get the cord freed. A little naughty language was uttered. But there was more to come…

⑥ Due to the mixture of waste liquid and blood, I wiggled more than walked with the bucket to get it emptied and sanitised. As I got in the kitchen, I stubbed my toe on the server trolley wheel. But there was still more to come…

⑦ After cleaning the bucket, and getting another one with Dettol disinfectant, to clean up the overspray and spillages in the front room, I turned and knocked the Dettol bottle off the side of the sink. I’ve known one of those plastic bottles to split open before! Cleaned it up, and as if a robot… a disheartened robot, went to clean the front room. Which I managed without any further bother… until…

⑧ I went to take the jammies off and soak them in disinfectant and washing powder. And the need to visit the Porcelain Throne arrived. I wasn’t done with cock-ups yet…

⑨ I knocked my toe against the clothes airer’s wheel, and it was possibly the most excruciating stub ever! I could feel the bile rising now!

⑩ I got in and down on the seat, watching the blood drip from Little Inchies lesion, but there was no pain coming from it? More confusion! The evacuation was reluctant to start, so O got the cream and washed and ointmentated the lesion as I waited for the action to start, back onto the Throne. A sudden spurt, and it was all over in seconds… But what a mess to clean up! Almost liquid! So, I got on with the job, rinsed the jammie bottoms and put them back in a fresh bucket of antiseptic. Then I cleaned my nether regions and got new PPs (Protection Pants).

The relief when I’d got everything sorted was phenomenal. I even think I started singing… Cliff Richard’s ♫’The Young Ones’♫. I believe it was the first one.

I’d come out of it well, really. Apart from the fungal lesion now starting to hurt and Harold’s Haemorrhoids stinging. The stubbed toe had died down, and I put the kettle on.

Self-Satisfied…

That was a rather nasty, severe start to the day,
Believe it or not, the memory is now far away…
I coped and managed, my recovery well underway,
In fact, I’m pleased with myself, I can honestly say!
I got through it all, my depression flewaway!
Mind you, I’m expecting the next coming malady…
There are bound to be more, as there is every day,
No signs of my moaning-mopes left or paranoia!
But the wee-wees stay, frequently with overspray…
I genuinely think this may be a better Saturday!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –.

I got on the computer and loaded the pictures for yesterday’s blog updating and got it done. Very late now, and no carer yet? Ah, it’s the weekend, I forgot. Usually late Sat and Sun.

I took some photos, but the SD reader has gone on strike again, Humph!

Aha! This morning’s Carer was Sara! I was already cheered up with the disasters of this morning finishing; this gave me an extra boost in spirits, Sarah coming. A lovely gal likes a natter, and she is responsive. ☻♥ Got the medications sorted; Sarah always watches me take them if I drop any or one comes back up. She knows I’d likely not see or notice if they did, Bless her. I wish they all did that.

I said my farewells, and my mood lowered a smidgeon when she left, but it was still higher than for ages. I had considered going into a Smug-Mode with getting through the early morning cacophony of cock-ups… but resisted,

I’d better go on the WordPress Reader and comment section now.

How disappointing… Makes me sick!

.

Can’t get on WordPress Comments or save owt! I gave up and got some nosh made. Battered red potato fritters, tomatoes, veg burger and banana to follow. The cakes were too sweet for my taste, but I ate them all. Rated: 7.2/10.

My luck really is changing from this morning. Went to get the ablutions tended to; better late than never. Just one cut shaving, nowt serious, and few dropsies (razor x 2, toothbrush, loofah, and short-picker-upperer), but I had the short picker-upperer to hand. No knocks, dizziness, headbangs, toe-stubbing, Shaking-Shauns, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, or shoulder charging the door frame!

Got dressed so I looked reasonably sane for when the Carer called. (I’ve made a vow not to be naked. Topless or bottomless again, when a nurse or Carer arrives! I’ve been caught with no trousers on by Nicola and no top on by Valerie up to now – Tsk!) I can lock the door and strip off after whoever comes has gone.

I tried the computer again, and it let me load some photographs to my delight. But VDD (Vascular Dementia Doreen) is making it hard for me to recall the time when I took them, although some are obvious. I got them into CorelDraw to resize. And…

♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chimed out, and in walked the evening Carer, Sarah (With an H). She soon sorted the medications, and I insisted she take a tipple and a nibble in; thanks to her. Which she did and took the waste bag out to the chute for me on her way

I locked the door and stripped off, feeling much easier now. Funny how all the cock-ups were got rid of in the early hours today; I’m pleased with that! Then got the photos; some I could remember were put on roughly chronologically. Others I’ll show here:

Rescued Photographs…

Obviously, I must have taken these two in the early hours, although I can’t remember taking them now?

VDD playing me up again. I suppose it is possible I got up during the night to take these? They cost me a lot of time tweaking to get them to be recognisable as what they are.

A mid-morning picture of the end car park on Chestnut Way, mayhaps, taken from the balcony, no doubt. I vaguely recall not being able to open the spring lock on the window and taking it through the glass pane.

I’m sure I had a paranoia moment with this one. I think I could see a face in the central cloud, but it seems to be hiding from me now. Such a shame. I could see a face and a monster in it on the right with this effort. At the time, I think another animal, but that too had been removed by VDD (Vascular Dementia Doreen). This last one of the trio on the left, which held several pairs of eyes and noses when I took it, still does, but somehow far fewer are found?

Ah, the expensive sweet potato battered fritters meal. I did eat it all. But the oversweetness of the potatoes took the edge off it. I already wrote about this, haven’t I? Humph!

Proof of my dedication to losing some fat from my midriff area. Where folds of fat, as it wobbles at the slightest movement. This on the left; was my last inside photograph taken today. It shows my bravely self-imposed limit; I’m allowing myself to nibble chocolate! With crumbs dropped from my nocturnal nibblings in the £300 second-hand, ageing, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working, recliner, cling in the channels of blubber.

No more supposedly well-intended, opening a bar of chocolate, working on the computer, thinking, “Ah, I’ll have another lump of that chocolate” – and finding it had all gone! No More – Never-Again! I have complete faith in my determination to lose weight from my substantively gross belly! Four pieces maximum from now on!

Sleep was stubborn and refused to allow me to nod off. Sweet Morpheus teased me as it got later, and would permit me to drift off, then minutes late startle into wakefulness with a jump! So, I got up and pottered about in the kitchen, taking photos of the changing evening view from the kitchenette window. I spotted some figures in clouds, particularly in the second photo. Not that I can see it now. Humph! Thanks, Doreen Dementia! The close up I took of the orange ribbon of light did not come out very well at all. But I’ve put it on anyway. To show the changing views on offer tonight. The last effort, about ten minutes after the one before, I did like it. Had more contrasting hues and colours, I thought. Back into the recliner, hoping to sleep…

But, Oh, No! Not a chance. So I looked at what was on the TV, and ‘Sudden Impact’, a Dirty Harry film with Clint Eastwood, was just starting. During the first set of commercials, I got some chip-sticks and a bottle of spring water to feast on, got back in the c1968 second-hand recliner, and settled to watch and enjoy the film. I love it when the goodies win! As the next set of adverts came on… Zzzz!

Inchcock Today – Memories Evoked + Odes

Looking at an old photograph can stir memories, even in some Doreen Dementia suffers, like I am. So here are my initial ruminations of looking at this picture… They may come over as a little out of sync, but one’s thought triggers another. I had to be adding them than before I wrote what I was doing… then I forgot what I had started typing. Sometimes remembering later, begin to correct things, and another unrelated memory pops up… to be forgotten about again. Later on, I got all confused but carried on anyway. Sorry about this.

This now embarrassing, brownie-camera photographicalisation shows the signs of authentic poverty in which I grew up. Although, at the time, I believed we were luckier than some of the residents of Brookfield Place. But not many.

Obviously, I was scrubbed up using carbolic soap. I was redressed into pants that didn’t fit; the crumbling walls on the 1899-built two-up, two-down terraced house make me cringe when I see it now. See that? I was nine house bricks high at the time. Not much taller now!

Having a photo taken was an event in those days. I believe Mr Wright, whose family lived at the end of the small terrace, number 10 (I might be wrong, of course). Mr Wright was the only person nearby who was well off enough to own a camera then and generously took pictures and got them developed and given to those in them. A wonderful man.

Christine. Mr Wright and Jane are on holiday in Mablethorpe! I recall feeding the family dog Rover (No pets were allowed on the caravan site in those days.) each time Mr, Mrs Wright, and daughter Christine went on holiday, taking Sister Jane with them; after Jane returned home, I’d better explain that while I think of it.

A better-off side of the family, with five boys, wanted to adopt Sister Jane. Dad opposed this, the fights started, and it was agreed that Jane would of out to Italy with the family. Which left me thinking, Jane was ‘out there’ having a ball, while I was left with Dad (Mother had done another runner from the police). Had to do the cooking and what cleaning I could family. Clean out and set the fire but did not start it until I saw Dad coming home. He thought it was overspending to make a fie for only one person. Give him his dinner, and get the things ready for the morning in the coal house ready for clearing out and resetting again in the morning. So, the crux of it was; that I was a smidge jealous, thinking that Jane was out there, in the sunshine, wanting for nothing, living the life of Riley… While Jane was ‘over there’ thinking that I was at home, living the life of Riley! Hahaha! In truth, poor Jane was miserable and had it a lot worse than me! She was molested, had to be a maid to the boys… When we found out we were both miserable, we had to laugh. As I understand it, each of the lads, who are now men, has been arrested and found guilty of various nefarious offences. Worra family!

Recollections of the folks living near my beloved Brookfield Place came to mind.

From the left, Sister Janet, Inchcock, Christine Wright, Mrs Wright and Walter. Can’t remember what we were doing or where we were when taking the snap. Either Mr Wright to son Brian would have taken it?

This picture, I do remember having being taken. A Door-knock photographer took it (2/3d a photo 11p in today’s money). Not cheap! The rather distinguished-looking (I don’t know how or why I remembered that?) cameraman said it’s usual to have a girl and boys toy in hand. I recall Jame going up to get her teddy from the bedroom, and I nipped next door to borrow a ball from my mate Jack. On my behalf, returning to have the picture taken. But putting on that forced smile was almost painful for me. Har-har!

A terrible picture of my blonde locks. This brings a scary memory back to me. Often I would be in the backyard. Our house was about eight-foot from a railway viaduct. On the left in the top photo) I would be playing or chopping wood in the backyard and the train; it was a busy line, with Arkwright Street Station, high above the houses. We got goods, commuter and the London Express’s all passing throughout the day and night. The houses shook, the windows rattled, the light swayed…

Yet, they never woke me up or bothered me because I grew up with it. Later, when we moved to Ipswich Circus, it was so quiet that I couldn’t sleep for months! True!

I lost my plot there, didn’t I? Sorry, where was I?…

Oh, yes! In the backyard, a neighbour usually would run at me and start to beat me around the head. This is all genuine! I had to wait until they had stopped, to find out why they were clouting me… had I done something naughty (not unknown), or as it usually was, the hot ashes falling from the trains had set my hair on fire again. (Which, more often than not, was the case)

It’s not surprising that I started losing my hair at 20-years of age?

Christine Wright, in front of her house in Brookfield Place.

Not that Inchcock is creeping out behind her? Hehe!

I’ve no memory of this photograph being taken.

I think this one was taken in Wilford or West Bridgford.

Christine and Janet got me to pretend to be knocked over and lay under the Morris Ten car. Haha!

The next one, I can vaguely remember.

The hosepipe was out in the backyard. Fed through the window from Chrissie’s kitchen tap. It’s the summertime, and someone will get soaked, methinks… I vaguely remember grabbing the hosepipe in the cause of self-protection. When those two got together, there was always a danger of me being injured, embarrassed or molested! In this case, all three. And I got a good soaking, to boot!

♫ Memories are made of these… ♫

My family, as such, were Methodists, Wesleyan,
Dad rarely went to church; Mother was an Aryan…
We soon split up, first off to Sicily, went sister Jane,
Brother Pete joined the army to help keep sane…
Mother ran from the police, again and again…
So it was just Dad and me in the main!

Education and affluence, to me, were strange…
No class, I never heard of a counterpane…
Then, I had no bad habits from which to refrain.
As you’ll read above, I got set on fire by many a train,
I’d never dined out or been on holiday or on a jet plane…
I used to get bad headaches, not a posh migraine…
But life was never dull or mundane!

I soon learned that nothing in life is free or certain!
An outside toilet, in winter it froze up, even the chain!
The only interest in sex came from the Chaplain…
I never went abroad, to Italy, France or Bahrain,
Shopped at jumble sales in search of a bargain…
I was considered weird cause I didn’t like John Wayne!
My searches for romance were all in vain!

My hopes for my future were low and uncertain,
I’d sit in my flat, glumly looking out through the curtain,
Plans and designs were ruined cause of my scatterbrain,
At least I’ll never become part of Britain’s brain drain!
My sanity was fluctuateable and hard to retain…
Timourousness, trepidation, and a cruel self-disdain…
My confidence and self-esteem had been mislain!
Don’t suppose I’ll ever find them again?

Is my Alto-Ego me, or am I?
Why do I even wonder why?
Would I be happier as a troglodyte?
Would I still like Marmite?
I think I’m losing this brain fight…
My last driblets of sanity are taking flight…

I’ve tried to do moral things and not to be profane,
Up to now, I’ve avoided trying out cocaine,
From alcohol, greed and bullying, I abstain,
Yet feel my life is almost transmundane…
Are my thoughts really mine or nongermane?
Shit!… I’ve forgotten what I was going to write!

.

Advice For Whippersnappers – Part 26⅙th

Advice For Whippersnappers

Part 26⅙th

Oddities whippersnappers may encounter, like leprosy,
An honest politician (Joking!), or water on the knee,
Have ten children; some are yours, at most three!
Go to Scotland for the whisky and to find Nessie…
Soon realise your sanity is becoming an absentee!

Cuddle up to and grope a gal, all nice and cosey…
Sweet words are shared, things getting lovey-dovey!
Then find out her name is Arthur and not Rosie…
No need to feel embarrassed, daft, or dozy…
Fake an excuse, rush off, and send him a posey!

One day you may become an abductee!
The kidnapper demanding lots of money…
Before he’ll think of setting you free…
But no one will pay; you’re not famous, yer see?
He’ll likely keep you as an adoptee!

You’ll eat strange foods, & plain foods, like onion bhaji,
Liqueurs, cannabis cheesecake, and beetroot coffee?
Pickled walnuts, fingernails, and chocolate garibaldi…
Even if financially up a gumtree…
Try anything, as long as it’s free!

Will you be an owner, manager, or employee?
Mayhaps a hippy with long hair and a goatee?
Drugged up to eyeballs, living in a fantasy?
Marching against bombs and nuclear energy…
Just like your Mam and Dad did in 1953!

No need to use a snickersnee or machete…
Wounding or killing is plain bizarrerie…
It could be you’ll need a necropsy?
All through greed and your bellicosity,
Finish now, with hatred and animosity!

Keeping on the straight and narrow takes fortuity…
To hide your weaknesses and frangibility…
We’ve only one life each, not an eternity
Staying honest and non-aggressive shows dignity!
At St Peter’s gate, of wrongs, you’ll need deniability,
It’ll be no good pleading for mercy, circumstantially!

When it comes to things financially,
You must avoid showing credulity!
Moneylenders, Bank managers, show crudity…
But do it to start with using misleading civility!
Muggers and robbers take your cash with audacity!

As you get older, you’ll go much more often for a wee-wee!
With little warning, you’ll rush to the WC…
But, you won’t make it in time very often you see…
I know, cause every day this is happening to me!
It’ll dribble or torrent, with no controllability…

The protection pants offer little comfort to me…
But less protection, as I increase my bellies adiposity…
Struggling, Little Inchie gets stuck in the zip… agony!
I wet myself; wetter than if on a water-skiers jetty!
It bleeds, I cry… this is ageing – it’s not very pretty!

Inchcocks tries to Make Them Laugh in Odes Series

Wot Me Worried?

Wot, Me? Worried?

I recall that my school imitational educating…
It was, well, a survival course; it was nerve-wracking!
A beating up, or a teacher’s desires, ever-lurking…
The fear, anxiety, never perpetuating, eradicating…
Not allowed, any anti-gang nitpicking or narking,
Always got caught doing wrong and got a rollicking!
There was very little joy or merrymaking!

I tried to avoid the gangs and did no twocking,
But Mum found things to go in my Christmas stocking,
Mostly it was shop-lifted, stolen or Godforsaken,
I would have liked to have gone backpacking…
But the police kept bringing Mother back in,
Thank heavens she was not into stockbroking!
Police bought me food at Christmas – Gobsmacking!

My youth? Complicated; Mam, if at home and Dad fighting,
No pennies to put in the meter for lighting…
When Mam ran away, with the police pursuing,
I made the breakfast and evening meal, no fricasseeing…
Nor fondueing! A frying pan or saucepan was all I was using!
No baking cakes or meat stew, but I was good at brewing!
Any desserts were a jelly, soft, no fridge, or a can of rice pudding,
The washing and cleaning, getting the bath sorted, I was doing.

No complaints from me felt I was wanted, that was rewarding,
Proud I was; I thought that bit was worth recording,
No time for rollerskating, trolley-boarding, or reading!
And no point in my moping, moaning or memory eroding,
Brush and dustpan, no machine, so no vacuuming!
I just pressed on, no time to worry about anything…
That came later; looking back, my good luck was very thin!
But at the time, it had to be done, so I took it on the chin…
Dad had a decent left hook when he’d been on the gin!
If guzzling Shipstone Strong, it could be a bullwhipping!

I did later get to go with the Army Cadets, out camping…
For three days, the weather was wet and worsening…
I enjoyed it, it was great mate… I lie; I was witwantoning!
Everyone was was pissed-off and whining…
I got back, soaked, weary and had food poisoning!
Dad: About time, get the cleaning up done, then luncheoning!

Wrote fur the Inchcocks True Tales of Woe Series

Inchcock Today – Sun 8th Mar 2020: An atypical day

2020 Mar 08

2020 tttMar08

Sunday 8th March 2020

Galician: Domingo 8 de Marzo de 2020

000 Mar 08

00:35hrs: I stirred into semi-consciousness, greeted by what at first sounded like a giant butterfly fluttering? But it turned out to be a combination of ‘The Hum’ and Flatulent Frank, who was also giving the impression of being a none-stop balloon going down! No sense of needing the Throne though, but the wind rippled out almost continually! Well, it made a change. Hehe!

A wee-we demand arrived, I removed my body from the £300, second-hand, not-working recliner. I rose easily enough on to my feet, caught my balance, got the stick and wobbled over to the GPEWWB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Wee-Wee-Bucket), and took an SSPT (Short-Sharp-Painless-Trickling) wee-wee. (the first of many this morning!)

I assessed the ailments en route to the kitchen. Things looked and felt good. Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna, Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, Back-Pain-Brenda, Saccades Sandra, Kidneys Kevin, Colin-Cramps, Harold Haemorrhoids, and Little Inchies Fungal Lesion were all on strike I think!  Shaking Shaun, with the assistance of Necodemus’s Neuoransmitters were the only things that concerned me at the moment. 7Sun01Pro-Tem Smug-Mode-Adopted!

Got the kettle on the boil, and decided to take a shot of the morning view from the unwanted, disliked, light and view-blocking, unable to get at for cleaning, photography-preventing-hating, thick-framed windows. For once it came out not-to-bad. The wind was strong.

7Sun05I got the boiling water in the mug and left the Thompsons teabag to soak. Went to get the medications for taking, rubbing-in and massaging, and I noticed for the first time, that pain gels sent this time, were of different names, other than that, the box’s were identical, as were the ingredients!

7Sun02WD 0.0.128A Not to worry though, this didn’t matter, for I had a more significant task now! Sorting out all the loose tablets that have fallen out of their day boxes and got mixed up, in the blister packs. At least this is an improvement of leaving me for five days without any medications at all. Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Nottingham NG5 2DA are such little teasers, the monkeys!

WD 0.0.128A As I turned to get the mug of tea to take into the computer room. I never take things that need two hands, for fear of the shakes coming on and dropping summat. Back-pain Brenda and Kidneys Kevin both started off, and so painfully, stab-stab from both of them, it worried me for a second or two. But they both eased off, and it came bearable within a few minutes. Strange that? I can’t say that Flatulent Frank eased off any, though! 

WD 0.0.128A I got some graphicalisation done. Sound so easy when you type it, but it took me three hours to do four of them. Then, as I was posting them on WordPress to use later, I realised that I’d put a wrong name on one – so had to make another one with the right name on it, and remove the wrong one! Thunderably-Thick-Fool!

I went to make another brew and have a wee-wee Still of the SSPT (Short-Sharp-Painless-Trickling) fashion!

7Sun04WD 0.0.128A I took a photograph of roughly the same area as earlier again. I did this one with Nightime Panorama option selected. Made a most-tasty mug of Glengettie Gold tea, and for some reason,. I became addicted and enjoyed it so much.

Unfortunately, there followed several hours of my making a brew as soon as the previous one was drunk or got cold, always interposed with a couple of tiny wee-wees? Oh, dearie me! Klutz!

A determined effort to get the Saturday blog updated was tackled. Hours lost again! Well, not lost, cause I enjoyed it. Posted it off. Then, I realised that I must have left the mobile in my jacket pocket, perhaps? So I got up and fetched it, Back-Pain-Brenda was not too happy with me. I placed it on the 1962 built cabinet where the computer and broken printer sits. There is a space in front of it where the phone sites snugly and handy if it rings, and I can hear it close-by. (It did once, last October I believe) Haha!

WD 0.0.128A Went the WordPress Reader, then Pinterested a couple of pictures. Hour or so later, the Text message noise sounded on the mobile, I put my hand out, and there it was gone! What? Have I had another blank-spell? Has Letholgica Luther had a go at me? Surely this cannot be? It’s sporadic for me to be positive about anything lately. But, I was unequivocal, irrefragable, I put the phone there earlier!

WD 0.0.128A Then, not being the sharpest knife in the drawer, it dawned on me; Hang on you heard the beeping noise, it has to be somewhere close? Well, I looked at the most obvious place first, Looked in the waste bin. Nope! The floor and under the cabinet. Nope.  (Mind you, there was a red-ink pen, a 10p coin, a dried-up postage stamp [Second-Class], and a screw to the mirror that I ended up throwing away because I couldn’t find the screw to mend it with! I never dreamt I’d end up like this, somehow, I expected to avoid going round-the-bend and losing it! Just shows yer!

Undeterred, and with a fresh-vigour, I opened every drawer and cupboard. Checked my pockets. On the bookshelves nearby. Nope! I had a hobble around searching on the floor BPB (Back-Pain-Brenda), getting more and more annoyed with me. I even went back to the coat to see if I’d had a ‘Funny-Turn’ and couldn’t remember taking it back. Nope!

7Sun06WD 0.0.128A I had a wee-wee, then made a  brew of Thompson’s tea, and returned to the computer. I think there might be some minor-justification for my earlier idiocy… The mobile lay in the waste bin underneath where the phone was, and I’d looked there first! But I didn’t have a feel around inside! The mobile is also black. And an old small one. And I can search for hours for defences, reasons, excuses… But it’s no good. What a Schlub, Schmuck and Schnook!

I’m up for adoption if anyone is interested? Partially house-trained! An excellent maker of cheesy-potatoes? Willing to pet-sit! I’ve got a free-bus-pass? My own walking sticks and picker-uppers! A three and a four-wheeled walker? Tons of old junk for you to play with! It’s not working, is it? All this trying to encourage someone to take me in? Humph!

WD 0.0.128A Ah, well, I found the mobile phone! But I can’t find out how to get to the messages, and I did it yesterday! Oy-oy-oy!

7Sun07I put the computer to sleep mode, then got on with the handwashing next.

WD 0.0.128A The jammie bottoms, long-sleeve t-shirt and a pair of socks. You wouldn’t believe the mess I got myself into doing it. Anyone who knows me would. Oh, well! Here goes, I’ll tell you! I dropped the bowl and spilt water over me and the floor! I dropped the hangar with the just-washed and wrung heavy jammie bottoms, and back down into the bowl they went to get soaked again! My final Accifauxpas was, I slipped on the water and cracked my right knee against the cupboard door corner! The worst thing about this incident, was because Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters had failed, there was very little pain at all, which means, when they come back on-line so’s to speak, I’ll be in for it when the message about the knock gets to the brain! But I was all calm and collected about these things, and did not allow myself to get agitated nor annoyed… no, I’m lying there! Sorry!

Having got the kitchen semi-cleaned up, I hobbled off to the wetroom to get the ablutions sorted out. Before I could start stripping off, the Porcelain Throne had to be utilised. But I couldn’t have been in a better location than stood right it, could I? Hahaha!

WD 0.0.128A Well, it was back to the blocked inner-pipes type session! The crossword book was well used, as I waited for some movement to start. I did well actually. I got three answers on a puzzle I’ve been doing for months on and off, leaving only one more needed! When the action began, I hung on to the crossword book. Which was used for another five minutes or so before the half-way-house evacuation burst forth, and oh so painfully! As I got up[ on my pins, the pain from the knee-knocking in the kitchen got through to the brain, I decided to take things steady, the last thing I need is another tumble.

I could hardly believe it, the teggies and shaving went painlessly and bloodlessly. Fair enough, there were a few dropsies. I got under the shower, and Dizzy Dennis paid a visit, but I half-expected him and had measured the distance to the grab rails, so no bother, and he soon left.

I was rather pleased with how things went, no, I should say, I was well-pleased with how I coped! Smug-Mode-Adopted!

7Sun08 (2)I got dressed, I had to, for delivering Josie’s meal. Haha! I then concentrated just on getting Josie’s nosh cooked and prepared. It took about an hour, plus a few minutes washing up after the delivery by Josie’s Sunday Chef (Me!) A good one I hope this week: Parsnips, carrots, garden peas, tomatoes, fish sticks, tuna in brine with mayonnaise mixed in, beetroot. The cheesy-potatoes (I made enough for me have some reheated later), were spot on-the-button (I thought anyway when I tried some). I used Leicester extra-strong, and mixed as well as I could, with butter, sea salt, distilled vinegar and a spot of light soy sauce. Then while the vegetables were in the saucepan, I put the spuds in the oven to brown them off a smidge. Served in on the plate on the tray, added a bar of chocolate and a can of G & T, and got it delivered to her. She seemed to like the look of it, and told me the plateful appears to be getting bigger all the time! I assured her it wasn’t, but I’d spread the fodder out more. Which was true! She gave me a salad pack that had blown a little. I thanked her and wished her happy eating.

WD 0.0.128A Back to the flat, and as I went to the fridge, the salad pack exploded! Bits of lettuce and peppers showered out all over the place! Cleaning up the mess for the second time today now! Spittling-Splurging-Sparrowhawks! But it was a half-hearted session, I’d had enough!

I got onto updating this blog (3-hours job).  Then checked for comments to answer on WordPress, before getting my own dinner, which would be peas, cheesy potatoes and I’ll have a look what’s in the fridge to go with them.

7Sun09Blow-it, I’ll do it now. The phagomania is with me again. Hahaha!

Well, with it being my Chek’s duty day, I made extra cheesy potatoes when I did Jossie’s meal, (Snigger, Joy!) and made enough for some for myself. I reheated them in the oven until they were crispy on the outside. All the rest of the nosh was cold stuff. The black tomatoes were especially tasty today. Fish sticks, mushroom pate (also highly-desirable flavour-wise), garden peas and beetroot, these were not so good, I couldn’t eat them all, they were like purple-ball-bearings! Tsk! But all the rest got eaten, no bread either, that’s still foreign to me, not having bread! Taste-Rating was still a 7/10. Mouth-watering! All bar the beetroots.

I started to watch some TV. A corny, poorly made film about Locusts who turned into carnivores, and a documentary on the Nuremberg Trials on another channel. Each time the advertisements came on one, I’d nip over to the other, and visa-versa. Farcical! I was getting no satisfaction at all, so I abandoned the film. And fell asleep watching the Trials documentary!

Repeatedly waking up, the nodding off again all the time. Which, rest-wise, was a waste of time! Hehe!

See you later, folks!

‘Bonkersness’ An everyday pleasure for old folk!’

2019 April 17

It’s a shock, when you wake up, not feeling unwell,
Take your medications, and rub in the Pain-Gel,
The heart monitor might well need a new Duracell,
You wonder around without clothes on, au naturel,
But you don’t realise, till someone does tell.

You and youngsters are on a different parallel,
You worry about your leaks, do they really smell?
Will someone be waiting for you, down in hell?
Sticks to your dentures do marzipan and caramel!

You’ve a shoebox flat to live in now and dwell.
But you call it an apartment, so your pride can swell!
Retentativeness goes away, you’ll forget how to spell,
Your short term memory will never again excel!
Steps, climbing, will make you fear any stairwell.

Doctors, dentist, you’ll be part of their clientele,
Podiatrists, Opticians, analyst, maybe the as well?
Audiologist too, you’ll not hear your phone or doorbell,
Psychoanalyst, avoid talking about your death-knell,
Well, they have a profit to protect, and service to sell.

We’ll lose our logicality, patience and sense of smell,
And when the time comes for to heaven to travel,
Here’s the really-surprising bombshell,
We can’t take clothes with us, even if they’re brocatelle,
No knick-knacks of gold, silver or tortoiseshell,
But I ain’t got none, anyway – so farewell!
I wonder if I’ll see Dad, Mam, or maybe a pterodactyl?

 

2019 Aug 01