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The memories recalled, but only just,
I think it may have been 1972, in August…
I met and was mauled by an anaesthesiologist,
Stabbed by an acupuncturist.
This year, I was robbed by an oligarchist,
Who goes by the name of Starmer!
Known as the proletariat’s financial amputator,
His first job as PM put pensioners asunder,
Raised taxes for every farmer,
Who accepted far too many a backhander…
He is still the Labour leader,
Money from anywhere he can acquire,
To his many wrongs, he’s not a conceder,
Because he is such an arrogant bleeder…
A perfect match to be a Tory Prime Minister,
He’s although blunt, he’s a clever circumventor…
Lies directly, by omission, a fibbing blatherer,
I bet he’s never been a TV renter,
Cause self-wealth is at his centre…
Working persons new tax inventor,
Bet he gets a free haircut from his barber!
His taxes put an end to improving agriculture,
He’s just like a greedy vulture!
His ruthlessness gives me acroparesthesia,
It’s like he got into power with tabula nasa,
Apart from filling his bank account whenever,
To morals & sympathy, he is a denyer,
I wonder if his stockings are 15 denier?
I doubt his calculations, cogitation, & dedication…
I wonder at times if he is just an apparition…
Sent by Putin, to do our economy in?
Or maybe a Right-Wing Martian?
He’s certainly caused political confusion,
Are, to Keir, old labour values an illusion?
Voters want action with anti-depression,
Not an HMG leader like an automaton!
It could all end with a revolution!
Maybe it can be stopped by a coalition,
But he doesn’t need my permission…
But he can have my commiseration,
HMG UK is leading to deterioration,
Sooner the better, for the voting disillusioned
That Starmer is toppled & decommissioned!
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Ah, a bit better colour!
Terrible photo!
Waste bags condensed.
Evening mug of Glengettie tea.
Blue evening views
Four big cob sarnies. But they were too big for me to manage. Waste not, want not; I bagged them, put them in the fridge, and ate them on Saturday. They were pork loin with robust cheddar cheese, no-butter butter, sliced tomatoes, and chestnuts. No finger cuts were sustained.
Got more photos saved to go on tonight!
Smug-Mode-Adopted!
Note the deliberate spelling mistake? Ahem!
Gawd, I hate Starmer!
I don’t think I’m on my own.
A large rise in cases percentage-wise!
I did a bit of research later for the odd below above!
All was normal here.
Slightly darker this morning.
My morning shots are getting atrocious!
Yesterday, I, Sherlock Holmesianly, searched for the signs of which houses are growing Cannabis in their lofts.
Today, it became apparent. Hehehe!
I’m unsure how I did it, but I got the battery-powered can opener to work!
Snowgoinger! Haha!
No TV. No landline phone. No Panic Alarm Working.
NO INTERNET! For 5+ hours.
Still, as long as the owners of Virgin, Liberty-Global, keep paying their CEO a phenomenal salary. Indeed, they will remain the supreme, cunning, lying Oligarchs they are. Trying to cancel their service, with their clause making us pay £100s to do so, requires someone with the following skills and can afford a barrister, a mathematician, & Einsteinian genius.
If one does escape their financial and incapable service, one may try EE, 3, Vodafone, BT, UPC Broadband, 02, ITV plc, or Sirius—all of which Liberty-Global either owns or has investments in! We can’t win!.
But Liberty-Global Always Do! (Spit!)
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TTFNski
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But I got that done, and then I Phorpain gelled the cartilages of Chloe and Carole. Then, I did Arthur Itis’s left and right patellas with the same gel. Olive oiled the ears, put the
Blepha gel in the left eye, and Chloramphenicol drops into the right eye. 
a pleasure doing that. 
nasal area, and the Anti-Bleed swabbed when that cleared. The Nozohaem was kept handy, but it was not required. 
I cleaned up the wet room, took the waste bag and the used catheter bag to make up a larger one, and saw it was only 06:10 hrs! I’d done all that in just over two hours. But, being me, doubts lingered that I may have got the starting time or waking up time wrong. This took the edge off of my temporary period of almost glee and pride.
I took this snap just before going to the wet room. You can’t see the snow in this one, but it’s stubbornly time-melting
There was a mammoth cock-up again with the food orders. I would have sworn that I made one order for today and another with a different shop for next 
Wednesday. First, the Ocado delivery arrived. Then, this evening, the Tesco order arrived! No photos can be saved again, yet it let me do these above, then died on me again.
The computer let me upload these tonight, and later it saved them. Huh!
too much for me.
The 2nd delivery
Tomatoes, potatoes, chestnuts, and chestnuts, with two really-filled ham rolls, with no-butter butter, & a dab of Marmite.
Evening all! The snow melting.
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06:15hrs: I stirred reluctantly to allow a mega-bast of wind to escape from my rear end. I removed the far-to-red coloured nocturnal pouch from the day catheter and mused briefly about yesterday’s various mistakes, cock-ups and all three of them, to me, disasters.
, and went the 
kitchen to get the kettle on to satisfy my urge for a mug of Glengettie tea. Then, I spotted the hard-to-miss snow covering the view from the window.
When I got to the kitchen, I decided it was in a very untidy mess and needed tending to. I started by sorting out the waste bin bags into one and placing it near the front door to the rubbish chute later on.
Finally, I made a brew of Glengettie.
Carer Sam arrived as I’d just taken some more snow photos.
taking a snap of the meal; it will make it onto here. I took this snap from the kitchenette window before prepping the daily nosh. I’m missing my stove and oven already. No chips, no lamburgers… I’ve given them away so someone else can try and enjoy them. Last week, when the oven gave up the ghost, I tried cooking them in the air fryer, but they didn’t come out well.
Well, the food photo was saved right in the morning. And the two shots I took of the evening skies went on!
I made three cheesy cobs, no-butter buttered them. I added a splodge of Marmite on each roll, then German Bavarian smoked ham slices. I also added sweet pickled baby beetroots and halved mini Dutch tomatoes, slightly salted.
Washing the pots later, I took another picture of the night sky.
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I stirred around 05:30hrs, after another disturbing jumping and shooting awake imitation night’s sleep in bed.
The nocturnal catheter pouch was the brownest it’s been for a while.
First photographs.
Second photographs.
All in, up and running again!
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Later on.
An hour or so later.
Toothache Tiffany kicked off.
Teatimeish.
Not a proper meal. But the innards had been playing me up all day, and I didn’t want to annoy them anymore.
butter-buttered tomatoes, beetroot, and red onions. 
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But does that include the product?
During the last four hours on the computer, I just got one photo to save! And that was one of the worst I’ve ever taken.
I got up at 05:00hrs and got the ablutions done. Took a poo, and it was two-tone in both ways. Started off taking agony and ages to get it moving; one giant torpedo plopped out, followed by soft, gooey Trotsky Terence splashes! A few weeny cuts shaving. I didn’t do all the medical checks, as the DVT nurse is going to check the read end in the examination later at the surgery; blood and Haemorrhoid Harold are to be tested again. 
Early evening sky.
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Moments of Mind-Mangling-Malcolm – Out-of-Its – Sandra’s Seizures – Mind-Blanks; Call them whatever you like, but they controlled most of this “What-Day-Is-It” – Where-am-I?” “What am I doing” day!
The day did not start well. I got up at 07:15hrs. I’ve been getting up later for some reason. The night pouch was far too deep, a colour to my liking. Searching the nurse’s bags to find a mesh catheter pouch holder took me so long. And proved to be another of my many, varied multitude of failures.
The door chime chimed. Carer Sam came in. The medications were sorted, the diabetic socks sorted, and a short natter was enjoyed.
The Kodak Camera was in a temperamental mood. It kept telling me each time I returned the card from the computer to the camera that it needed Formatting. But this will erase all content on the SD card!
soon be bare of leaves. Bootiful!
panged like crazy, and thi
s, at only raising the leg about 2 feet to clear the bowl. 
Odd that! I Phorpain gelled both Cartilages and Arthur Itis’s knees. Got the olive Oil in both earholes. 
barrier cream on the 
arms, hanging belly, and base of Little Inchy. The blotches and spots had returned above each eye, so they also got some barrier-creaming. I added some Germol
ene on top.
I’m a masochist, is it? I’m sure Little Inchie shrivels up even more when he sees the tube coming his way.
I went to the kitchen, got the earhole sprayer, and gave both ear canals a good blast of purified water.
I cut some Warfarin tablets in half for the Caregivers to use on their morning calls. The dosage is currently 1½ every day until the next test on Monday, November 25th. I think.
I scribbled some notes of the day on the reminder pad and made a mug of tea using 
started coming at me as soon as I got on the computer. After this, they rarely gave me a rest. And here I am, trying to write this at 0950hrs tomorrow morning, with nothing added to the memory notes from here on. It felt like an instant change from being somewhat with it to being unsure of what I was doing. I’ll mention this to the nurse on Monday at the surgery. That’s something else that concerns me; three carers said they would try to get through to Easy-Link for me and get back to me to see if they can do me a lift. I’ve heard nothing. So, I must walk to the surgery and back on Monday (tomorrow). I’m told it’s not their job to ring up for me. I ask them to, cause of the mistakes I’ve made in the past with mishearing what they say on the phone. Face-to-face is a lot easier, but I’ve had trouble using a telephone or mobile since the stroke. Now that the landlines have gone ‘Fibre’, catching everything said over the phone is more challenging than ever. I’ll not bother them again. I felt guilty asking them in the first place. 
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, at least I think it has.
The night pouch seemed to be fuller than usual. If I recall correctly, I asked the Carer to put it on earlier than normal. I can’t remember why. 
So, no ablutioning could be done. I did try using the Porcelain Throne
Then I went back to the kitchenette.
The J. Sainsbury order arrived while Richard was here. I got it put away before I thought about photographing anything. Richard helped me carry the bags to the kitchen.
had been so kind to me over the last day and a half while I was out of it and feeling rough. It was her returning with a vengeance that made me realise.
Would any of my hundreds of fans, either of you, like to guess what this photo is of?
I took these snaps of the kitchen view. It was getting dark and a smidge misty, but I tried to capture the changing colours of the trees and bushes
Hello, I’m off to the often-visited WC in the wet room yet again!
I took these shots while I was cooking. 
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The meal: Tomatoes, black bean sauce, red onions sliced in, and some smoked streaky bacon. Brown & wholemeal cobs, and after digesting the feast, Carer Christopher arrived. The little monkey ran his fingernails along the soles of my feet again when he took of my diabetic socks. I’ve asked him not to. Hehe! But he seems to enjoy doing it. (Joking, I don’t want anyone to read this and think otherwise)
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I got on the computer to finish Monday’s blog. Then, most surprisingly, I was summoned to the porcelain Throne again. I was even more amazed at Trotsky Terence in control again! Which made me feel a fool for mentioning how pleased I was with Constipation Conrad. Now, I think the opposite. Coping with the bloody catheter is bad enough, especially with having to wear trousers again, the first time in months. I regained the worry over any leaks from the catheter or it filling up while I was out; now I fear things may escape from the rear end!
I pressed on with starting this blog. And half an hour into the job – unbloody-believable!
getting on and off of the bus? Will there be any waiting for what is needed? That will give it more time to leak or burst on the bus or during surgery. And walking is not an option anymore. That would take me an hour each way and almost guarantee an 
I chickened out and walked down Winchester Street Hill into Sherwood, carefully
hitting leaf-covered potholes. No falls yet. 
Road to the supposedly arranged flu jab at the top chemist. On the way up the hill, I called in the Co-op and got some food. As I walked up towards the chemist, the atmosphere was bleak. Nine people on that short stretch of the incline sat in closed shop doorways with the traditional pot of coffee, begging and giving out depressing stares that could melt you if you looked back at them. Poor devils or con men?
try the bottom chemist, a quarter of a mile down the hill and almost up the high point on the right. So I began the long trek down and up Mansfield Road to the second chemist to investigate. I got so far down and 
remembered there was a chemist to the north that the Carer might have booked me in with. Turned around, passing the Co-op and first chemist back up the hill and down to the Daybrook Chemist. I was feeling knackered by then! Got there. So, back up the Mansfield Road Hill to Sherwood, down through Sherwood to the chemist.
He rang other chemists without any luck. But Carrington Chemist could do me now and give me the COVID-19 jab.
Then, the long slog back up the Mansfield Road hill and down into Sherwood began.
I pressed on steadily and carefully.
I called into the continental shop and got some food. Then, I finally reached the bottom of Winchester Street. I have no idea of the bus timings nowadays, so 
I hastened… Haha! And hobbled up Winchester to the bus stop.
Gt in the flats, said hello to Warden Julie as I passed, and up to the flat. Food & sleep, I’m sure, were primarily on my mind.
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What an odd night’s sleep last night.
to the wet room to get a wash & shave.
I went to get the kettle on and took this poor shot of the view from the kitchenette window.
causing a lot of bleeding this afternoon.
The end car park.
The Tree Copse.