High Mode Horis – Inchie Today

Inchie: Sunday 1st March 2026

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Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas, Errors, Dark, Dank Depression Darius, Tumbles, Frustrationes, Mistakes, Embarrassments, Humiliations, Explosion, etc.
Each of the daily emotionally challenging visitors above seems to be an embedded, permanent aspect of Inchie’s daily life. (Well, I say life, life, that may be an extended pretence for his existence & struggles as he continues to survive, wondering what for & why.) Inchie can’t recollect the word he was going to use at this precise moment. Today’s main offenders were:
Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas, and
Depression Darius. Much of the day’s events will be missing or brief due to the inordinately long time it took to implement countermeasures after the explosion. I used the word explosion here to catch your attention. Hehe!
Not to mention the pain caused to Bad-Back-Brenda, Fractured Knee Frank, and a new head injury incurred when sorting out the after-effects of the calamity.
Hope that got you wanting to know more with bated breath? The clean-up operation took me over three hours! With another hour & a half worth of help from the Carer on three of his calls. The entire flat has a sweet, pungent whiff floating about this morning, seventeen hours after the incident was cleaned up.
The volatile liquid covered the whole kitchen floor… more later, in between the usual boring stuff I pen.
Have I whetted your appetite for the story?
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A lousy night’s sleep, broken waking, worrying, nodding off, waking, worrying, farting, nodding off, waking, belching, Shaking Shoulder Shirley belting away, nodded off, woken up this time by Twitching Neck Ted, fell asleep…. Enough of that.

Ejaz arrived, medications given, a full-body check, Phorpain gelled, toes and ankles creamed and medicated. Fresh socks put back on.

Care Mizra called. Pouch checked & emptied. Painkillers and Peptac given. I mentioned the NCC email needing clarification at a council link. He got it up and led me through filling it in. Which was great. Had he not been helping, there were times, if I’d tried to do it on my own, I’d have made errors. Saved the day, got it done. Thanks, Mizra!

Although I didn’t realise it at the time, had I done so, hours and hours of painful, Accifauxpa-inducing cleaning up the mess could have been avoided.
Which verifies my rotten luck, I’m always getting up to investigate noises; was it the tao overflowing, the water alarm, had something fallen over, etc. and always (but not this time, Oh, no! I could spit) check!

NOW, THE HAPPENINGS BEGIN!
As Mizra departed, I thought I heard a noise, similar to when someone doesn’t fully shut the door, and as they opened the foyer door to the lift area, the flat door slammed shut in the draft. It was just like that sound, so I didn’t even give it much thought. I was getting back into doing the Ode for the blog.
A mistake that cost me so much angst, pain, and took me hours to clean up… As I stood up, about an hour later, to make a brew, I could smell something but not identify it. To the kitchenette door and stopped so suddenly, I dropped the walking stick. All I could see in the kitchen was what I thought was water covering 80% of the floor! A panic came… I started shuddering and shaking, but knew that I needed to turn off the tap, which meant walking into the deep water. So I did. Walking stickless in my haste. One step into the kitchen, I saw that the tap was not running. I looked up at the ceiling for signs of incoming water, but there were none. Then the smell hit me, and I felt giddy. I realised then that it was bleach. I looked at where I’d left the 5-litre container of thick bleach, seeing it on the floor, burst open. I thought casually as I recalled then, ‘Well, that’s me in the shit – Again!’
Damned good job that I had so many rolls of kitchen towels at hand. I threw them into the water as best I could to help soak up the bleach. Then foolishly stepped forward to get the paper to go all the way into the kitchen, and all but slipped over on the thick bleach. I used about five kitchen rolls’ worth of paper and intended to give it a few minutes, then see if it was safe to add more paper. Then realised that my Kagoule and dressing gown had made contact with the bleach! They were rotting away as I looked at them. I strangely thought this could make a horror movie that people would believe, Hehe!
BUT IT GOT WORSE!
I withdrew from the battleground into the wet room, tore off my dressing gown and Khagoule, and placed them in plastic bags for the rubbish chute.
Had a rinse, and got another dressing gown on, as I did, there must have been some bleach dripped onto the floor, which my foot found and Whoopsiedangleplop, down I went, oddly enough, catching and activating my alarm wristlet as I crumpled onto the shower chair. Struggling up onto my feet again, I heard the NCC monitor controller speaking. Went to the room and said I just had a tumble setting the alarm off at the same time. But, no. I explained about the bleach, and she asked ARE YOU INJURED – No! “We can do nothing about your water. Wait until a Carer comes. When is one due?” About 2-hours. If it is a leak, call our maintenance or repairs.
Thank you, kindly, [Tut], I rang off.
Back to the kitchen and spread some more paper towels to help soak up some of the bleach, left it for a few minutes, then went back to gather what I could into waste bags.
Have another go with fresh towelling, and then I began the slow, painful job of mopping and rinsing out the mop often. This involved rinsing the mop in the sink with cold water, then using the wetroom tap to part-fill the bucket for another pass over the floor. Naturally, the bucket needed to be rinsed after each use. Using a small jug to get the water from the sink to the bucket. The smell got to me again, and I kept feeling a bit giddy. I did this six times in all. I had opened the windows. This snap on the right was how it looked on the fifth attempt. I was in a lot of pain by then. Back, shoulder and a new bruise on my head. As I collected the last of what I could, I had to leave the areas between the cupboards, the stove, and the fridge; it was just too painful to get down that far. I filled three more big bags with the bleached, covered towels, bringing the current total of eight bags taken to the refuse chute. I pressed on with mopping the kitchen, but that bleach wouldn’t come out at all, without a fight.

On the bright side, it cleaned up my fingernails nicely. Even if it did ruin my new dressing gown, slippers and Khagoule, all waste-shutting with a few words RIP style proffered as I sent them 12 stories down in the chute, to the big bins below.
I only bought you both a month ago,
It’s so sad to see you have to go,
Hope it doesn’t hurt you, though,
When you land twelve floors below!

Carer Ejaz finally arrived, and I told him of how my blog-writing time had been further deprived. Showed him these photos and told him of what I’d been through, the time lost, the pain, and the frustration. Yet, amazingly, nae astoundingly, nae, mind-bogglingly, a miracle… had not dawned or visited me, yet! Yes, I was angry, a smidgeon sorry for myself, maybe. There was certainly an inkling of self-sympathy lurking in my mind.
But when the air had cleared, the blood had bled, the pains subsided, and Ejaz stuck into helping, and the kitchen was beginning to look clearer and safer, I had a short, curt visit from,

When I sat down after Ejaz had departed, I anticipated falling into the wonderfully welcoming arms of Sweet Morpheus. But, No! Fractured Knee Frank, Back-Ache Brenda, & Shuddering -Shoulder Shirley, kicked off at the same time. It was like someone turning a pain switch on, instant agony. I thought it was bad enough while doing the bending, but now it is worse than ever, as Victor Meldrew’s catch phrase went. I Do Not Believe It! When Ejaz returned for his last call, he had planned to tidy the kitchen, but didn’t. Why?
He recognised the state I was in purely pain-wise.
Ejaz took a snap of the little bruise on my head for his records at ICC. Then he made some instant mash, cheese with ketchup and sausage for my meal. Not wanting me to get up from the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner. He even suggested I don’t move into the bed, rather stay where I am, the effort of climbing into bed he feared would set off the other ailments.
Also snapped shots of the view from the kitchen window for me, since he knows I like to take them for the blog. The Carers have been a treasure for me today. And how, why, did Deep Dark Depression Darius stay away? He did get one fleeting visit in, but was it worth his efforts? I think not. But I pray tomorrow that he keeps away.
Perhaps I was so busy, and in so much pain, he didn’t feel the need to get at me as much? Nae!

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Inchy’s Ode: Friday 30th May 2025

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I had a great idea, all be told,
To go into today’s Inchy Ode,
I was unshirted, & the brain unsorted,
To the Porcelain Throne, I ventured,
The motion was being prevented,
Constipation Conrad; I was tortured,
An hour later, the torpedo appeared…
To the blood & pain, I was not enured,
It painfully slowly came out, multicoloured,
I felt my innards being distorted…
The monster stuck, it was unimparted,
Surprisingly plopping, it was aerated!
Back to the Ode, but it had to be aborted,
I think my memory box had busted,
My mind & body, both beleaguered,
Back to the WC, I almost blubbered,
I got the second torpedo out painfully,
Then, a brainwave came to me…
I’d lost the Ode’s plot, alarmingly,
I’d tell you of the WC barbarity,
I had to make visits again, how many? Three!
I thought I might take up residency…
Arthur Itis’ knees, both rheumaticky,
Since the Covid jab, I’ve felt so sleepy,
But I’ve not lost it completely…
My brain is acting somewhat whimsically,
Another tumble, another Whoopsie!
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TTFN’ski

Inchy: Wed, Thur 30th May 2025 The end of an era

Now, CorelDraw will not let me save or import any graphics or photos at all! Even the ones I took in the afternoon!

Wednesday 28th
Horrible busy day. I took pictures in the morning and got graphics on.
Carer Joe arrived. And he set to sorting the junk room.
Wore me out.

I was peed off when I realised the CorelDraw problem.
I don’t understand it at all.

Thursday.
The nurse came to administer the COVID-19 injection.
I remember last year and the three days of sleeping that followed. It did again.

Friday.
CorelDraw has blanked out all the options on the screen. Can’t import, export, save, or copy anything…
I’ve really had enough.
Can’t see any help on the horizon.
But I’ll bother Carer Joe again when he calls next. And ask if his lads can help me sort out the problem.
With tax, CorelDraw cost me £449 plus this year, and I can’t use it!

I could, indeed have been crying. Sorry for myself.
I’d like to pull out of it all together.
The lads may help me in doing that, I hope.

When I get over this sleepiness and tiredness, whenever that may be, I’ll try to get the spirit to do a graphicless, or use an old one for a daily Ode on its own daily. But my spirits are so low.

I’ve never felt lower.
I also have a lot of comments to catch up on, as well as WP Reader. I’ll do them as soon as I can after posting this saddest of blogs.

Sorry about this.
Cheers.
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Inchy Today: Tuesday 27th May 2025

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MR PHOOEY
One of Sister Jane & hubby Pete’s cats.
My personal favourite. The lad had all sorts of problems. I believe he would have been around 13 years old in this photo, taken at their mansion.
The poor mite went deaf and almost blind a couple of years later. Then, he had kidney problems and many others, and he became fragile. Finding this photo made me think of Tim Price and Doug, WordPress cat owners who have gone through the anguish of losing their loves. Mr Phooey was an amazingly calm, & friendly cat. When one picked him up. I could hear and feel his purrs when I got a chance, and it was an honour to be able to gently fuss him, along with Jane, as in this photo above.
Thank heavens for memories!
Soft? Me? Yes, I loved him!
Bless Him!
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Be suspicious of those who bootlick,
Making sure it’s your boots is the trick,
Avoid Inchy’s odes; they’re logorrhoeic,
Men avoid women who are logorrhoeic,
And Starmer, the anthropophobic,
And known to be an anthropophagic,
He’s also deceptive, false, demagogic…
I find time for this sort of epodic,
Guillotines, designed to be ergonomic,
I think this Ode is funkadelic?
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You’ll probably guess better what happened than I can remember occurred.
Scribble only, and few photos. Recorded well for the first few hours, then the multiple seizures confounded me; I was in and out from then on.
04:50hrs: Stripped, grabbed the necessary items, and headed to the wet room to perform the ablutions and medicationalisations.
Soaked my feet and stood in a bowl with disinfectant while I cut my face… I mean, shaved. Hehe!
Getting my feet out of the bowl, I spilt some water, slipped on it and cracked my head against the sink. I seem to be mastering this little exercise more regularly these days. Tsk!

06:25hrs: I got on the computer. 07:15hrs: Carer Ejaz arrived. He issued the medications. Then, I added mesh netting to the catheter contraption and got the diabetic socks fitted on my now dangly legs and feet.

On the computer, I came across an old photo of Sister Jane, Mr Phooey, and me. (above) I am as soft as grease, I know. But I thought of all my WordPress heroes who have cats and gone through the anguish of losing them. I am the same with my Cyril and Lady, and of course, Jane’s Mr Phooey! 💛

The computer needed a reset in the hope that this would correct its habit of sticking mousse.
So, I got the Hoover out and did a bit of cleaning up. The emphasis is on ’A bit of cleaning up!’ Haha!

The food delivery from J Sainsbury’s arrived. I started to put away the foodstuff… I must have taken this photo.

A mega-seizure followed by a slowly dwindling series of mini-seizures.
How two Carer visits came and went with only glimpses of any memory of them amazes me.
Not as much as how I did work on CorelDraw during the long one. And what bit I did and no cock-ups in them… that I could find anyway. No taps were left on. No food doors were left open.
How? That’s what I’d like to know!
No signs of aches or new pains to indicate any tumbles being taken, either.
I meant to mention this to Carer Joe when he came, but I don’t think I did. I hope to remember to tell the Doctor when she calls on the Wednesday after next. There are so many little things, extra, different things I’d like to recall and relate to the Doctor. But they drift off into the ether. Carer Joe should be here when she comes, so I think it’s important to keep him updated. As he might jog my memory or tell the Doctor himself. Is it likely to be more reliable than I can be? It was so good of him to move things about on his busy schedule, to fit me in to be here when the Doctor arrives. Thank’s Joe!

Looking at this photo, I’d guess what I’d had for nosh tonight or whenever. Possibly a boiled potato cut into cubes? Orange, red and yellow tomatoes. Pickled water chestnuts. Pickled mushrooms. Beetroots, red onion, and Marmite cheese. Cheesy topped bread rolls. The dessert might be a jelly & custard pot? What is on top of the potatoes and what was in the bread rolls will have to remain one of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, & spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Depressing Duncan, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, and logicality were already on the wane.
How the heck can I not recall this meal? It looks delightful to me in this photo?
Ah, yes. As I’m still two days behind with the blogs, confusion is to be expected. Especially when I get distracted from my intended actions.
These are perfect examples of this; while draining the catheter pouch (three times in three days), I got distracted and either did not turn the valve off or only partly, in my rush to answer the phone, the intercom and the door chime. Resulting in more agitation when I realised that each time I’d got urine on my leg, socks and part filled the slipper. I ran out of slippers when I did it today! They are all in the wash with the pouch netting and socks. Then, a master risk! I had to get water from the kitchen sink into a bowl, disinfect it, and bring it to the main room to soak the feet. Having to dry them with paper towels using the picker-upperer. Bending down to get to the feet is a no-go. Just too painful on the knees and back and causes me to have dizziness. Which is best avoided. I think I’ve had two tumbles in two days caused by bending down. Hitting my forehead on the wet room sink each time, but I stayed upright at least; that is a blessing. Otherwise, the long crawl on all fours to get to the recliner to haul my body back up onto the feet is such a painful struggle. Arthur Itis, Little Inchie, the catheter tube pulling and causing bleeding… I’m moaning again, aren’t I? Shut up!

The short Mini Seizures took over.
Coming out of these, the confusion seemed well out of proportion. More than when I escaped the mammoth one?

I may have got things out of sync or repeated. Sorry.

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All The Bestest!
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Inchy: Medically-Miserablest-Monday 26th May 2025

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Shouldn’t you ask for permission?
Beg for guidance and facilitation,
Don’t do it if you are a drunken…
Or you are easily dumbstrucken,
Guillotine, hang or electrification?
If you have a choice, which option?
A final world war or a global eruption?
Covid, starve, or in an explosion?
Physical and mental erosion?.
No more floccinaucinihilipilification,
Write your last poem, or feuilleton?
Your PM is a dishonest futilitarian!
He causes fear, death & a fustilarian.
Starmer is like a modern Gwydion…
Ever-searching for freebies, a guerdon.
Not a practical joker, more a gluon,
He’s no guilt, disowns, refuses humiliation,
Undercover Tory? We need confirmation!
Investigation, examination, interrogation,
I’d love to see him commit self-jugulation!
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A few evil spells today.
But in the afternoon, Anne Gyna eased off. Mind you, she returned when I got into bed. Tsk!
Still, you can’t win them all!

For about 70% of the day. I kept praying he’d sod off, but, needless to say, it didn’t work. I can’t understand why, though. The situation overall was significantly better than it had been in the last few days. There was nothing to indicate why Duncan stayed with me for so long, and deeply too. Baffled!
Late on in the evening freed me for an hour or two. Enough for me to cheer a little before finding blessed sleep. As it was, the interruption occurred when Ann Gyna returned, the coughing started, or the neurotransmitters shook me with such violence. But each time, I soon drifted of into the world of sweet Morpheus again. In fact, despite the most jump-awakes ever in a night, I think I got 6 hours sleep in. I just wish it had been of a bit better quality. Again, you can’t win them all.
Notes were sparse. I think there were some seizures over the day. Another oddity is that some days, I put a tick on the notepad when I know I’ve had one. The next day, when it comes to counting them, I either can’t believe the ticks on the pad were so numerous, or I am amazed to see so many.

Another memory-testing blank-filled day. Luckily, I took a few photos; some prompted me, and some confused me. Not much contentwise. Although some flooded back to me.

Carer Ejaz was as surprised as I was at the colour of the nocturnal urine.

Rubbish bags are made ready to go.

Tidied up the vital for the bladder catheter stock of spring water.

I’m not sure, but I think this arrived today. I’d made a mess of naming the photo files, so you may have seen these before—or not.
Ah, Worcester-flavoured crisps!

Got on the computer.
My brain didn’t work at all.

Early meal.

Took a tumble while doing the ablutions.
I head-butted the sink again.
I’m getting good at this lately!

Carer Ejaz was surprised again.
Hahaha!
He took off the diabetic day socks.
And took these photos of me in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner.
Then, the state of the legs while he put some
Phorpain gel on the lesions and barrier cream.
Do my legs look mishappen to you? Not complaining, though. They were far less aglow tonight.

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Doctor’s Next Thursday TTFNski
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I hope I can remember where it is?

Inchy Today: Satur’Rotten’day 24th May 2025

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This is a sort of disclaimer.
Defending my brain’s abductor,
My cerebrum needs a new alternator,
Today, full of Whoopsiedangleploppery…
Has angered & confused me continually,
Hot tap left running twice – Good Glory!
Burnt my dinner, coughing & throaty,
Everything went more confusingly,
As I write this, it’s 16:00hrs, Sunday,
07:15, I mean on Saturday…
Has angered & confused me continually,
Hot tap left running twice – Thoughts gory!
Struggled with the Peripheral Neuropathy,
Arthritis and cartilage, bad in each knee,
Glaucoma was making things hard to see,
I cut my finger on the zester,
Porcelain Throne visits, never messier!
What people said would not register,
My catheter tap was left open, pathetically…
Slippers, socks, feet, carpet wet, you see?
Leg ulcers turned deep zaffre…
Burnt my dinner, coughing & throaty,
Everything went more confusingly,
No one had time for a chat or natter…
What bit of hope I had began to wither,
I didn’t know if I was here, there or whether…
It was pouring with rain, a change in the weather,
Dark Dank Depression Duncan dawned,
No visits from High Horis, I felt scorned,
I got confused with the dates on the calendar,
The computer has a blue screen, whatsoever,
Each caller had a different Carer,
Lost without Carer Joe, he’s on holiday,
Fought against dates, mathematically,
My thoughts sadly went argumentatively,
And I was only talking to myself, sadly,
Then, I think you may agree…
I suffered catastrophe after catastrophe,
I washed the pots and put them away,
A Carer from the ICC,
Which naturally distracted me,
She left, I discovered, agonistically,
I’d left the tap running again. Glory be!
No ablutioning today as well, I can see!
Cleaning my togs first, carefully…
Rarely for this year, it was still rainy,
Then I tackled a job most risky…
The bowl of disinfected hot water…
To the main room, I had to porter,
No Accifauxpas, with that water,
Stuck my feet in the bowl, with anti-fungal,
But I forgot to fetch the towel…
So I dried off with some kitchen towel,
Went to empty the bowl in the in the WC,
Dropping it as I poured it into the toilet bowl,
I stubbed my toe, boy, did I howl!
I wanted to throw in the towel…
Instead, I made a brew…but I couldn’t find it. Nor my mobile!
Give up, swear, curse and growl,
Depression Duncan was invincible,
High Horis was absent or invisible…
Most of this is immaterial,
Bad-luck? I’ve had jugful…
I sank into a mental jungle,
My mind was in a twisted muddle,
Too many problems to juggle,
Life seems no longer manageable,
Everyday, more mishaps & trouble,
My brain & soul are no longer mutual,
My joints & bones are no longer malleable,
Problems not hideable or mothballable,
Cognitive Impairment, sanity not recuperable,
I’ve no slippers left because I’ve pee’d in them all,
Proving that I’m ever more adorkable,
I still feel that life nowadays is not workable…
I also seem to be growing more sulkable,
My thoughts & ideas are now circumstantial,
I sense I’m becoming somewhat augural,
In High Horis’s absence, I’m apoplectical,
I was once perceptible, & palopable,
Will Horis ever return? I’m still hopeful,
Gawd, that entity made me so cheerful,
Does this read all agathokakological?
With problems neurological & physical,
Seemingly ignored by anyone medical,
What chance? Is logic salveable?
Unobtainable, unreasonable, or unworkable?
Sorry, this may sound morbid, apocryphal,
It’s just that I’ve had a belly full,
Dementia, Incogniscence… are they…
mendable, rectifiable or even explainable?
I made a meal that looked rather eatable,
Unfortunately, in the morning, at half-past two,
I’d only been in bed for a minute, too!
Off again to the Porcelain Throne, I flew,
I had another ,
The evacuation started before it was due!
Much foul language was used, I can tell you,
It was unstoppable, smelly and impromptu,
More time lost, much cleaning up to do,
Arithmetic, I nowadays misconstrue,
But, did I enjoy my meat & potato stew!.

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Just had a short visit from!
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Today felt like anything go-wrongable went wrongable. Repeatedly.
My mind took a holiday.

Scribbled notes on the pad and a few photos triggered some memories.

04:20hrs: Removed the nocturnal catheter bag.
I Put the kettle on. Then, I soaked the socks in disinfectant from the urine mishap—how many times has that happened this week? I made up three waste bags. I put them near the front door, where they remained for two days with the following added ones. Could I remember to ask the caregivers to take them to the shute? No!
I didn’t get around to doing this blog until Tuesday.
By then, I’d overwritten the pictures taken as I got them all mixed up with each other. I must have lost at least a dozen photos! Self-hatred, stupidity, and a smidge of anger with myself.

Yet again, Unbelievable!
I was emptying the day bag, and the intercom rang; it was the Carer. As it seems habitual nowadays, I did not fully close the bleed valve on the catheter pouch.
More foul, self-cursing emanated.
Another high-risk activity is carrying a bowl of disinfected water to remove the pong of urine on my feet. Mind you, I’ve done it three times (not closing the valve and carrying water from the kitchen to the front room and back). No, I’ve done it four times this week. I ran the hot water tap cold six times. And I swore (Estimated) 12,456 times this week thus far. Only one more day left to increase these figures. (Which I can you now, I did!)

All my slippers are already in the laundry bag.
And with the Carer not putting on the diabetic socks, I walked the stink all over the rooms. I was not up to mopping, but I sprayed all the carpeting with a fabric freshener and the rooms with air spray. I still can’t find the small blue towel. But give me time. I’ve only been looking for it for two weeks. Untidy is the kindest word to describe the flat.

I think this photo might be from another previous day. Cause I can’t recall any prescription medications being delivered. Mind you, later on, when I got a phone call, the lady asked me why I had not attended the meeting with the neurologist at The Ropewalk. I felt silly asking where the Ropewalk was.
After cringingly apologising and thanking her for setting up a new emergency date for the examination (August 28th), I checked my calendar. There was nothing on there. .

Not sure about this photo either.

Or when this one was taken.
What day was it taken?

I went to get the much-needed ablutions done, but I needed to use the porcelain Throne first.

Morrison order. The photos have been overwritten—all of them! No, hang on. I’ll check to see if I put them in the wrong folder. I’d be daft enough to have…
Well, after searching, I could not find them in any file. I went on CorelDraw to download Tuesday’s files and realised I’d left the photos on the CorelDraw page. So, I had to change all the names and save them again to use here. I sense big cock-ups in the offing!
I found some snaps.
I think these were the right ones.
But…
They are, I’m nearly certain.
Well…

I had better stop here if I’m getting deeper into a quagmire of confusion with three days of blog photos and notes and the wrong days of events shared between the three. I think duplicity is a possibility for these three blogs. Sorry if this is so.

Many photos in the preview are different from those in the editor. I’m sorry again; I can’t find out why. If this continues, I’ll have to give up. Anger-Making!

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Cheers!
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Inchy Today: Friday 23rd May 2025

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I may have left these evening shots of yesterday’s blog. I’m sure I didn’t put on all four!

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The first 3 taken to the left. The 4th to the right.
I found at least eight images in these.

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17:00hrs before I got around to stating this bloke.

A proper quicky.

05:00hrs up, nocturnal pouch off.

Mopped kitchen floor.

Ablutions & Medicationing where I could reach.

3 cuts shaving

I all but lost my balance getting the fresh PPs on.

Carer Ejaz arrived. We decided not to change the catheter bag, as we did last week on Sunday; it’s best to wait until then. So I can try to remember Fridays. I think I got that wrong. Ejaz got the medications issued and then put the diabetic sock on my legs.
He did a body check for new injuries or bruises and embarrassingly found some bruises on my… erm, er…
Well, my left buttock. He took a snap of them.

Odd looking?
Then he took a snap of the ankles
and leg ulcers. They appear to be
less severe this morning. Each ulcer
seems to have adopted a different
colour? The right one is almost
painless. Not the left one, though.
But they change daily.
Not like Starmer at all.
He is a permanent backhander
taker, fibber, greedy bully-boy,
more Conservative than the Tories.
the Labour leader, faux-pas,
imitation Prime Minister, dishonest,
but makes a grand dictator!
I got carried away there again. Sorry!

One Massive Seizure followed as I returned to semi-reality with a Mini-Seizure that returned me to La-La land.

NOSHTIME
Two cheesy-topped bread rolls filled with Marmite cheese, mature cheese spread, red onions and NZ butter. On the tray: pickled mushrooms and beetroot & new season tomatoes.Excellent Taste!

DANGER: WARNING REMINDERGRIM REAPERS, FARMERS, MOTHERS,
PENSIONERS (If not yet killed by the cold),
AWAIT HOPEFULLY FOR HIS ASSASSINATION
The PSAA, Pensioners Still-Alive Association,
membership is dwindling thanks to Starmer
stopping the fuel assistance will be holding a
mass prayer meeting at the Dog & Snuff pub in
Nottingham on June 4th. Any assassin fancying
taking on a new target is invited to attend.
Spencer Perceval (1762-1812): Served as Prime
Minister from 1809 until his assassination.
Keir’s assassin will guarantee you fame &
fortune. You’ll not be hung for doing it.
Starmer being as popular as he is, the
sentence might be up to five years.
If successful, the assassin will get 5% from
each of our members’ pensions in payment when
released. And make us so grateful! Thanking you.
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It is now 17:35hrs tomorrow (Saturday).
I have yet to finalise this blog and get it sent off.
Let alone start on Saturdays. That’s going to be a right mess of a blog, too.
Saturday was… well, horrendous.
I thought today was bad enough. Two Tumbles. Accifauxpas. Hot water tap left on to run cold (Twice!). The catheter valve leaked all over my socks, slippers, and the carpet.
The third time this week! I’ve run out of slippers!
I must have had dozens of mini-seizures.
LIKE BEVER BEFORE
I cut my finger opening and a can of soup.
Flooded the kitchen.
I’m scribbling this to forewarn you in case it may sound gruesome when I finish (or even start) today’s blog—which it was! The main reason is that I made only a few notes on the reminder pad, so I may forget bits of the daymare. I can refer back to this blog if tomorrow I remember I wrote this.
I’m hoping that appears real soon. I’ve noticed he’s been reluctant to visit. Saturday was my third day without one of these heavenly mind-easing visits. He’s never been scarcer. Going from one extreme to the other gave me a sort of pleasure for however short a period. It was an out-of-this-world freedom from worry, a blessed take-it-as-is attitude. They were a paradisal, blissful and almost celestial. I didn’t like them at first because they felt so unreal, knowing the DDDDD would return. I did not appreciate at the time how my doubt would turn to love. Now, it seems like a lost love.
I’m sorry, Shakespeare! Please be aware that tomorrow’s (today’s) Saturday blog may not be in sync or readable, methinks. I’m sorry if so.
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Have a Great Day!
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Inchy Today: Thursday 22nd May 2025

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Yet another busy, busy day!
Today did it for me. I may miss some events, as there were many, some simultaneously. Community Nurse, Window cleaner, ICC Carer Company representatives, a welcome call from ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress, Warden and Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana. DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis) nurse. Then British Gas sent a chap to get me to sign up for a replacement electricity meter. I wouldn’t. After asking if they were sneaking in Smart-Meters on me, he said, “I don’t know!” It sounded to me like he’s been told not to tell us old farts about the replacement being a much-feared and most unwanted Smart-Meter! With the fortune they spend on advertising them on TV, customers still resist them three years after hearing about the problems that some poor devils are having and getting bills for thousands of pounds!
Still, I’d better press on, or I’ll never get it done by going off-track and waffling. After four glorious hours of sleep… (Yes, 01:00 > 05:00hrs!).
Sorted the catheter bags out.
I washed last night’s pots and mopped the kitchen floor. Then I turned on the kettle, responded to the churning innards, and went to the Porcelain Throne.
Trotsky Terence is back in charge. Cube-shaped soft turfs that were more green than Kharki this time. There was no pain and no blood. Which was good enough for me. I pondered whether I should shower and do the ablutions now or if a Carer would arrive while I was in there; I decided not to and went to make a brew of tea. !
I’d left the hot tap running, and all that time cleaning up after the soft cubes, the water was cold!

I thought it was a Carer who rang the intercom. But it was a chap from the chemist delivering the top-up prescription medications for me.

Carer Ejaz arrived. Issued the medications and put my socks on for me while I told him of the Blood machine thingy. He could see to read the instructions. I wish I could. Hehe! It seems that I’d done it correctly.

Made up some new templates for WordPress.

Window Cleaner. Costly!

Carer Mirza, nice lad.

Community Nurse checked my body for bruises.
Asked some questions. What about? Erm…

Physio Miguel arrived and stayed a good time with me. It was a helpful visit, with a Q&A and a full body check. Miguel checked my blood oxygen machine, and everything was in order. He’ll order me two none-pressure cushions, one for the 1968 tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, eyesore-horrendously grungy, disease-fermenting second-hand, beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, catheter tube yanking, recliner, the other for the computer chair. Bless him.
He’ll also arrange a physio to come and see what exercises I can do. (Argh! Hehehe!)

Carer Nagan did the next call.

Then, two staff from ICC Care arrived with a new swipe tab for the carers to use.

Blood pressure was high.

The overcharging and bullying BT, trying to get me to have a smart meter installed, sent a pleasant agent.
Leaving leaflets that are printed far too small for me to read. I asked if it was a smart meter they were trying to force on me. He said he didn’t know. Tommyrot! He just didn’t want to have to tell the truth that it would be a smart meter installed! Gnash!

I did an order with JS for next Tuesday. (I think).

Misra did the last call… no he didn’t… or did he?
I think it was Carer Rosma. Sorry.

Beautiful sunset caught just in time.

NOSHTIME!
Good enuf fer me!

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WORRA DAY!
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Inchy Today: Friday 18th April 2025

Proof that the Grim Reaper is Evil!
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Life now seems full of stupefaction,
To which I hold many a reaction…
Overall, after my pondering summation,
I cut down on taking beta-blocker medication,
To help me with my concentration,
I weighed up the facts, with consideration
My brain tending towards absquatulation,
Considered my rear-end’s vesiculation,
It had no bearing on the situation,
Considering problems I didn’t want to mention,
The neurologist who said I’ve verbigeration,
Will my research ultimately reach a conclusion?
I realise life will never be utopian,
Past failures, return, with apprehension,
Stemming my thoughts with hesitation,
Guilt, self-vulneration & vilification
Detract me from my original intention,
I often lose my current situation…
What is my purpose, my vocation?
With Dementia comes alienation,
No doubt, I can cope, using gumption…
Mine is comparatively, insignificant,
But it is bound to soon worsen,
At the same time, my catheterisation,
Means no voluntary tintinnabulation.
For concentration, I see only annihilation!
>>>>><<<<<
Hopefully with more bravado,
I await the sign; at least an echo,
As I lay here, lying doggo,
My thought processes, fallow…
Whatever my mood, high or low,
I’ll get part-three done tomorrow,
I’m off now to have a Cornetto!
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– – Excellent week up to now! – –
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I stirred back into my pretend life at 05:40 hours.
Another night of ever waking up, but this time & were present every time I woke up. I was concerned about them both, having two nights absence. Huh!

Nocturnal Pouch. Rating 5

Clock calendar updated. Hearing aid inserted. Earholes olive oiled. Eye sprayed. Rear end washed and antisepticated.
The saving produced just two little cuts.
No spillages or tumbles! Although I had a close call when getting the fresh PPs on.

Care Ahmed arrived as I was starting to season & pickle some black peas.
I mentioned that the computer was correcting when I put his name in the blog; so he gave me another name to use, bless him. Ejaz. I used it when updating yesterday’s blog, it accepted this one. He issued the medications and asked me if the Little Inchies Fungal Lesion Ointment treating was hurt again today. Haha, a lovely lad, ever-ready for a laugh.

I hoovered the little hallway, not that I’ve got a large hallway, anyway. I didn’t need to say that, did I? I’m wandering all ready. Then, I prepared the necessary items to finish the chickpeas and store them in the fridge for later use.

The day was brightening. However, the sunshine never did break through the clouds today.

The Kala Chan peas, Stubb’s liquid smoke (this is what McDonald’s uses in their smoked food). Mushroom liquid ketchup, Marmite, liquid sea salt, pickling vinegar, and light soy sauce. I drained the peas and put them in a leak-proof food tub.
And I got it sealed and put it in the fridge. Then I opened a can of water chestnuts, and broke some up into the mix and vinegar. I had a taste of the liquid mix, and it tasted very good to me. It will require a minimum of three days in the fridge to achieve a decent level of pickledness in the peas. I must be parient. Hehe!

Back to the wet room. Urgh!

The midday call was by “Carer Joe”. We had a natter, and he said he’s doing the next call, then a new Carer would be calling. He’ll be back later. I’m not sure how long he’ll be off for, he might be on holiday.
I’d had a seizure while doing the blog when he arrived, so things can be taken with a pinch of salt.

SEIZURES FIESTA
Not for long.
But they very short, but each one was recogniseable.
I dare not move about or try to do anything on the computer, fearing a tumble or ruining the nearly finished blog. All ended well, though. They stopped after about an hour of them rattling in so fast.

Andy really has expressions that almost seem to talk to you! He’s undergoing a lot of treatment at the vets now he’s getting older. All the WPers love him.
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I’ll have to do catch-up again in the morning.

Good Morning!

Not much to do, just to add Ejaz visit and the days nosh. Can’t remember anything else.
When Carer Ejaz made the last call, I’d been deep into a heavenly sleep for about an hour.
Boy, was I confused and tired again.
I was so tired; all I wanted was to get back to sleep.
He kindly said he would fit the new weekly catheter day bag on in the morning. But I’d not made a meal yet! So I did. Half-asleep. Hehehe!

Made the nosh up. Minced imitation beef and grey, added garden peas, pickled water chestnuts, and brown chickpeas. Poured some Gung Po sauce over it, as shown in the picture above. Mixed it all up and microwaved it.
Loverly!

Of course, that was end of any sleep for the night.

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😘 TTFNski. Keep Safe! 😘
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Inchy: Wednesday 19th February 2025

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THINGS I’VE MISLAID, But not DDDD!
I recall losing my spark and ebulliency,
That disappeared relatively early,
As for my romantic… we’ll call it urgency
The desire remained, but not the capability,
It didn’t help having a toddler named Inchy!
Some sessions were like a farce, or comedy,
I did my best to offer some excitancy,
Usually offering the gal only oscitancy,
Until I met Grizelda, tall, thick & muscly,
Who declared her love of danglers, mini,
Our sessions made us both happy & giddy!
We mated, rhapsodically repeatedly…
She would always ritualistically,
Throw me on the bed, into reverie,
I swear we produced radioactivity,
It was our seven-times-a-week proclivity,
That was before I went all rheumatically,
But now I’m nearly an octinarianary,
With a catheter stuck in my Willy,
Incapable of any sexual prithee,
Even recalling Grizelda’s memory,
Her hairy chest, & biceps is risky…
Cause it always gets me frisky,
Willy grows; things go painfully!
Now my urges have left me,
But I never had enough adequacy,
I had to get by somehow, accursedly!
Imipramine, for depression, 3 times daily,
Thus, I lost all urges, sexually…
Started considering things, funereally,
Depression and Peripheral Neuropathy,
I got shot twice; the arm and knee,
I went bankrupt financially…
I hung on a bit longer to my morality,
A mechanical aorta valve was fitted, thankfully,
Now, when I wake up, it’s half-heartedly,
I look back at things I did unwisely,
Unthinkingly, recklessly or tactlessly,
No doubt about it, I exist apathetically,
Bladder cancer made me live virginly,
I’m still here, still terminally…
With the seizures & DDDD; mental anarchy,
Never again to pee voluntarily,
Barred from any sexual activity,
Glaucoma Gladys, blurring what I see,
I got an appointment at the doctor’s surgery!
Nine days away, for 27 Feb, next Thursday,
I won’t see her, she’s going to ring me!
That’ll be good if I talk stutteringly…
Will I hear her, knowing I hear deafly,
Let’s be honest here, does it matter?
But I’ll not be a quitter or attritee,
Guess who’s just left me? DDDD!
I’ll make the best of it, & brew a mug of tea!
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Flashback to 1965
GNCS (Greater Nottingham Cooperative Society) 118 store, Arleston Drive, Wollaton, Nottinghamshire. I was the Fresh Fish & Greenfruit Department Manager then. I have so many happy memories of this store. I’ll share a few if you don’t mind.
The Manager was a Gentleman, Bill Morris, my much-admired mentor. Many years after the above photo was taken, when the store had to close, I was promoted (if that’s the right word) to Lily Grove Greengrocers shop. It was an old serving counter store with a grocer and butcher in three separate units.
Mr Morris retired. He passed away shortly after leaving 118. It’s sad, but he taught me much, and I admired him.
We had an armed robbery early one morning before opening the doors. I heard some shouting, and I went out of the back door to the front of the shop and caught the number and colour of Hillman Minx they were driving away in. I recognised one of the three in the vehicle. Informed the police went to the nick and was interviewed. I got the impression they thought I was involved in the raid. Credit to the police, they caught all three of them within two hours of the attack. I had two visitors to my flat the following week. They advised me not to identify the bloke I had already identified. I phoned the police while they were threatening me. They couldn’t understand or were pig-thick and carried on the threats while I was on the line. I was so angry with them, as a siren was heard, one pulled out a gun… which I knew was a starting pistol, cause at sports club we had one exactly like it. I must have sounded rather brave as I swore at them and stopped them from escaping before the bobbies arrived. Looking back at it, I must have been a different person then. I wouldn’t do it now; that’s for sure certain! In court, their mates said I would pay for this, as they were found guilty and sentenced immediately. Thankfully, I never heard from them again.

I enjoyed writing that. Mind you, I was in a high mood when I wrote this.

Sorry, not much on again. Had a few decent spells.

I detached and emptied the nocturnal catheter pouch and collated all four waste bins into one bigger one and placed them next to the door. I got the kettle on, made a nice strong brew of Glengettie, and had to divert to the wet room .

This was even more gooey and sticky than yesterday’s evacuation! By the time I’d cleaned up and returned to the kitchen to get to the mug of tea, it would have been pointless. It was bound to be too cold! So, I decided to get the washing procedure done early.

Started with the shaving today. And broke a record, I reckon. I acquired seven cuts, all bar one (under my chin), on the back of my neck again. Still, they were all tiny efforts, and the Brut soon stemmed their flow. The stand-up wash went quickly enough, as did the teggie cleaning. Suprisingly.
The medicationings and dressing had their moments!.
The top strap sores on the catheter holder were… what can I call it? Sore, and they became even more painful when the barrier cream was applied.
bled a little, but not a lot.The other areas.were nae bother.
The Phorpain Gel was well-used. in both knees
needed a good lathering. And and were massaged.
I could not reach to get the Germolene onto the split ingrowing toenail. I used the picker-upperer to put some tissue on the big left toe.
And were applied. I’m so glad I don’t use the drops now. More of any ete dropping missed the eye and usually ran down my cheek and into my mouth. Hehe! Much more straightforward with the gels and sprays. They cost a lot more… but I can’t take the money with me when I clock out. is with me as I type this; I’m pleased to see a little humour creeping back into the blog while
Has taken a temporary furlough from his haunting ways. was done without much bother for once! .

Finally I .
Now, I must tackle getting the PPs (Protection Pants) on.
I was doing so well with the help of the picker-upperer.
I’m not sure how I managed it , but somehow, I caught the release valve while making the final adjustment. Drip-drip-drip… Unwanted semi-panic, I closed the valve, grabbed the large kitchen roll and picker-upperer to clean the mess up… and dropped the roll. Naturally, it bounced on the lip and dived as if under remote control. Splunk into the WC! I finished the cleaning, mopping, freshening up and getting dressed. Not the socks, of course, which are beyond the capabilities of this ageing bad odesmith, with a magnificently muscled and highly toned body and razor-sharp brain.

Made another brew of 99 tea to replace the cold one.
I took this morning’s shot from the kitchenette window, and Carer Shaq arrived just as I returned to a state. I could not stop waffling on. I think, anyway. He put the socks on for me (I knew they were on later), and medications were issued.

Belatedly changed the clock calendar. And the day’s started. They were most persistent today. (More later).

And the seizures mean a blank or lack of details of the later Iceland delivery. Yet, I found these photos taken without the slightest memory of taking them.
The fridge… no freezer.
Not much in the fridge?
I’m not sure about what or why this was taken.

Returned later, and I got a good crack on blogging. Albeit interspersed with the mini-seizures throughout, and being error-ridden, needing so much time ot correct so many cock-ups. I may have overloaded the Grammarly memory that is available. Haha!

During Carer Kimberley’s visit, it seems I had several seizures that she witnessed. When I came out of one, she told me that I had been ‘out’ for the longest time Chloe had ever seen me. I was muttering words that made no sense for a minute or two, as if she thought I was asleep and having a dream or nightmare? As she left, she made notes of this on the log. Also told me she recognised two or three of the mini-seizures on this visit, those I was not aware of at all. Then again, I may have got all this wrong or confused due to the seizures. But I think this is one of the more explicit memories. But…

I recall cleaning the old cooker and under the new one and vacuuming, I think, when Kimberly arrived. I’ve found these activities in the morning, down on the notepad.

Hours of doing nothing. I can’t honestly recall turning everything off on the computer, but I must have. On Thursday morning loading, the Ccleaner had been used, so I had to sign in to everything again.

I suddenly felt drained, so I made a meal. Carer Promise helped me with the timing of the cooking.
A mixed bag of Beef in black bean sauce meals with extras!
A tray of Parsley Box Beef in black bean sauce.
A tray of Iceland Box Beef in black bean sauce.
One went into the oven – 15 minutes later, the second went in.
To try and get them to be cooked simultaneously.
Removed from the oven, some garden peas, water chestnuts, and boiled potatoes were added to the slow cooker.
Result:
Some milk-roll bread for dipping. Haha!

I wanted to stay awake to see the football highlights.
I didn’t make it. I drifted off into a deep sleep… but only for an hour. Jumped awake and found myself talking? It took me no time to nod off again.
After that, it got farcical and frustrating.
As I recall, it was almost a different type of cause for waking up again, which felt like they were every five minutes.
Shuddering Shoulder Shirley, Eric’s Electric Leg Shocks, Coughing or sneezing, and the most often one was from Twitching Neck Nigel. I think these may have been caused by Sleeping or Nocturnal Seizures?
I’m glad Carer Chloe helped me get an emergency appointment with the Doctor on Monday, the 17th, for Thursday, the 27th. So a ten-day wait to get assistance, and then it is only via a phone call from the Doctor, not a visit.

I assume the seizure problem is based on or coming because of my FND and/or Peripheral Neuropathy links. There are many possible etiologic agents for FND. I seem to have most of them, according to the United Kingdom FND site on Google.

I had my worst night’s sleep ever. It was worse than two weeks ago; I had none for three days.
Still, the Doctor is rushing to my aid. Phwert!

– – – – TTFN – – –