Inchock’s 4th Escape from the lockdown – to town! Pictorially presented!

Inchock’s 4th Escape from the lockdown – to town!

This woz rote by Inchy’s alter ego – Hehehe!

The following, pictorials and odes, were created in support of the Depressed Nottinghamian At-Risk High-Rise Flat-Dwelling Prisoners Support Group. Donations gladly accepted.

Having made his escape bid plans again. He clandestinely crept to the lifts, falling over his three-wheeked walker-Guide, waited for the regulation Winwood Heights twenty minutes for a lift, and got down in time to miss the bus.

He waited patiently, for the next bus, but this proved something of a benefit for the old git. Not many folks about, but he still managed to corner one poor chap, and hastened to bore him to death verbally! The man wisely moved away.

And Inchcock, being instantly bored himself now, went into one his Sherlock Holmesian modes. Someone had been blowing their nose in the bus shelter, and stuffing the tissue under the seating?

He caught the bus and got out his crossword puzzles, but the driver, obviously a stock-car racing fan, nearly had Inchy out if his seat a few times en route to Nottingham City centre. Trying to hold onto his three wheeler, took some effort.

The old chap went itn the Pondland shop on Lower Parliament Street, and despite his painful and feet, enjoyed his hobble around the store, coming out with many items he didn’t need or want, Tsk!

He got to the checkout, and got himself in a right pickle and state of embarrassment at the self-serve checkout! The lady monitoring the tills, was greatly unimpressed with his continual dropping of things and farting about trying to retrieve them.

But did not offer to help, although she shared some sneerings, of hate, derision, scornfulness and causticness with him. He came out redfaced and £20 lighter. And took these three shots of the Milton Street junction.

Where he went into the Bargain Shop. A terrible experience! No one talking, empty shelves etc. But, he still spent over £21, mostly on Christmas treats for his family of friend in Woodthorpe Court.

He was struggling now, the three-wheeler trolley-bag full, and three carrier bags hanging on the handles, would make progress awkward for him. At least he remembered to but sone of the dar clothing cleaner. He set off on a limp towards the Slab Square.

On his hobble along Milton Street to Upper Parliament Street, he noticed the Nottionghamian pedestrians crossing the road against the lights again, but this is a usual, regular occurrence. He adjusted thos spectacles.

Which was a mistake, as he turned onto Upper Parliament Street, the old fart of a fool unthinkingly took the spectacles off to clean them.

They got caught in the facemask!

He crossed over the road, and down King Street. Near the bus stops, a chap dressed like the Beatles used to, with plaited hair hanging below his shoulders, stopped him and asked for ‘a couple of quid for a coffee’. As he eyed up the bags!

Inchy just said, ‘No!’ and carried in hobbling down the hill, turning to keep an aye on the youth as he did, to make sure he wasn’t following. Getting to the Slab Square, Inchy gor out his camera for a snapping away session.

He saw the little crowd and paparazzi outside the Council House steps, he went back into Sherlock Holmesian mode, and took a close up[ phot of whoever was on the steps. This person came by. Inchy got a decent shot of his/her head.

Inch repositioned himelf a bit closer, and waited for the right moment to get a view of what was going on. Nice zoomed-in photo for once. Asssumed to be the Sheriffess or Mayoress of Nottingham? Again, not single Policeman in sight today.

The tatterdemalion, dour, malagrugrous, weary, tellurian, dangerous populace of Nottingham, were showing a bit of itnerest, at least. Not many of them had face-masks on, but it isn’t law yet to wear them outsdoors yet, methinks.

The lad poddled his way wit hdifficulty up Queen Street to get to his bus stop, and caught a number 40 back home, to his never-restfull, beloved, always something to worry about, four years being upgraded and not finished yet, Winwood Heights.

He was the only passenger when the bus moved off from the terminus. Pondering on should he get out the crossword or not; one look at the mass of bags on the trolley, and the book being at the bottom, he decided against it!

The first passenger to get on the bus, was Face-Maskless.

The second one, had his mask under his chin.

A lady got on, and she had no mask on!

As the chin-mask wearing man got up tp get off, he gave Inchy a cautionary scowl, that was a bit threatening. As the bus progressed along St Anns Well Road, it passed the Health Centre where Inchy has to go for his bladder-scan.

This is St. Anns Valley Centre, 2 Livingstone Road, Nottingham NG3 3GG.

Events over his last two visits there, do not proffer the least bit of encouragement or confidence in Inchy.

The record, as Inchy explains:

  • February: Went to get the feet done, and they said come back later, we’ll have to lool at your health record.
  • March: They refused to do my feet, cause the Warfarin level was too high..
  • July: They refused to tend to my feet, because I’d just had the stroke.
  • August: Refused again, cause of my having been diagnosed with diabetes.
  • September: The did cut my nails, but said they will not be able to so in future. I have to go private in future.

Poor old sod!

He arrived back at his Woodthorpe Court, along with the mysterious wonders of, the Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, Hallucinations and Kehuas. Materialisations, Poltergeist, Lemures, Wairuas, Manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan mission; ‘To annoy and scare the bejesus out of, and the pants off of the old energumenist, Inchcock’.

Thank you.

A simple bus ride to fetch my Spectacles – Not on your life, talk about things going wrong. Humph!

A simple bus ride to fetch my Spectacles

Not on your life, talk about things going wrong!

The things you will read on this so-called true-funny blog of mine,

Really are true, and challenge my sanity  and mind,

Please persist reading, and you will find,

Why I have logicality, hopelessness and despondencies entwined!

Off to Sherwood to collect my glasses,

I’ll call on Jenny and Doris, such lovely lasses,

I’ll leave them a treat, containing molasses,

Might get a chinwag with whoever passes?

 ———————————————

Caught the lift down with no problem at all,

Left the bag, hope they have a ball,

Returned to lift lobby hall,

Catching the elevator, not easy at all,

I was so frustrated and appalled,

25 minutes later, the lift responded to my call!

 ———————————————

Rushing out to Chestnut Walk, slipped and broke my shoe,

Clouted it on the walker’s wheel, surely there is some good luck due?

But what made me saddest, was the bus had departed, early too!

So, all het-up now, I legged-it, passed-wind, and feared wanting a poo!

 ———————————————

On Winchester Street, The walker ran away from me,

I chased it, and is facticity,

I wedged it against a box for electricity,

To take this phot, but not with enough adequacy,

I stopped it again but with inefficacity,

No doubt about it, this was going to be a trip of paucity!

———————————————

I got down the hill, energy’s what I did lack,

I must get the bus up the hill going back,

I called on two shops to get cleaner and a snack,

Off to the optician’s, the one drawback,

I was wearing a sort of anorak,

I was so hot, but didn’t hold back,

Got in the shop, and took the receptionist flak,

I was late, it seems was her crack!

———————————————

I had a long wait to be seen,

Not that I was all that keen,

£300 to pay, never again to be seen,

Crosswording while I waited,

The receptionist called me to be seen,

The lady dealt with me, glasses were fitted,

I got quite jolly-fully contented and witted,

Until it came time to pay, the nI was fritted!

I’d forgotten my pin number again,

I think the lady thought of me; “What a Pain!”

From crying out loud, I did refrain,

She got the money through, this seemed diaphane,

How I don’t know, so I asked her, it felt germane,

I didn’t understand her, and felt a right dumb-brain,

Thanked her, pretending to understand, I did mislain,

Still, she didn’t moan or complain!

Then out and up the hill, to catch the bus again!

———————————————

I had to doge another Pavement Cyclist, he gave me a fright, 

I was too tired to comment or get into a fight,

I’d run out of the Kryptonite! 

Would I make the walk home up the fearsome hill? I might! 

Down to the traffic light corner,

And the bus passed by, I was too late!

I checked the next ones time and date, 

40 minutes, too long to stand and wait,

So I set off, limping, with an unsteady gait!

The hill looked a fearsome sight, 

The prospect of climbing it, made me feel uptight,

Sorry that I didn’t wait for the bus, I felt contrite!

Anyone seeing me struggle up the road must have seen a sickening sight,

I was sure the gradient was gaining height?

The hobble home seemed infinite

At the top of Winchester, the parkers made things tight,

For breakfast, I should have had some Marmite,

The time went by slowly, and things went quite,

Somehow, up the last part of the hill, I did expedite, 

To see a harrowing sight,

The 40 bus arriving, some tenants did alight,

 My energy was drained completely now, flat!

Didn’t have the energy for eating my cervelat,

Must not fall asleep, I’ll have to do summat,

I got back to the apartment, Zzzz; that was that!


After this abysmal, Whoopsiedangle-ridden trip, the poor old twit, did have fleeting thoughts of a suicidal nature. but he did not act on them – He fell asleep! Haha!

Inchcockski – Sunday 13th September 2020: Long, long day! But this phagomaniac made a decent meal for once!

TFZer Gal – Bootiful!

Sunday 13th September 2020

Spanish: Domingo 13 de Septiembre de 2020

13th September 1959: The first man-made Object (Luna 2) reaches the Moon!

About an hour after getting down to sleep, I woke to see the colourfulness and the brightness of the night coming through the thin, tatty, old, raggedy, multi-holed curtains. I could not resist fighting my way out of the recliner to take a photo of it. Lovely!

Around 00:50hrs, I woke again, in need of a wee-wee, and struggled to the OGPEB (Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Bucket), and struggled to pass what was maybe 2 or 3 fluid-ounces, over the next five minutes or so! Yes, another RSHH (Reluctant, Sprinkling-Half-Hearted) wee-wee! Hobbled to wash my hands, and then I got back down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, non-operational, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, tatterdemalion, heavy yet tottery and unbalanced, positively-dangerous to use, rickety recliner, I soon nodded off again, which was pleasant and a change.

02:10hrs: I stirred into mock-life again, wanting another wee-wee. This time, catching my balance as I grabbed the stick, was a little more difficult, I’ve no idea why, but I got the bucket in time. It was an RSHH mode again, but with far less pain. The  Post-Micturition After Dribble lasted much longer than the main event did. Drip-drip, dribble, wait, sprinkle, drip… Tsk!

I could sense that things in the wee-weeing department were going to continue in the little-and-often style, so I emptied and sanitised the OGPEB, disinfected it and returned it to the computer room for later use. (And believe me, it saw plenty of action!). I’ll try to resist mentioning too many of them, it may sound too dull, but to me they were annoying. Each one was of deep luteous shade.

I remembered (Miracles do happen, then? Hahaha!) that the Falls-Team arranged delivery of a new walking frame was due to arrive today. So I got with doing the Health Checks sharpishly. The flipping SYS is still high!

The temperature, using the stick thermometer was the highest its been in many a month!

But that’s a good thing, I think anyway? I don’t think its too high at all.

I took a photo of the tablet trays, to show you how it is so easy to make a mistake in taking them. Although these pods were designed, to make it easier for we slightly more mature dodderers, and cut back on such errors. As you can see, the pills are all over the placed, many stuck under the covers, and others had moved into another compartment altogether! Many were stuck on the glue, others by the static electricity in the packaging. When they were first introduced, they told me they’d be fool-proof as well! Hah!

Obviously, they had forgotten about the well known locally ‘Special Skills’ of Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, just up Mansfield Road, from the Lidl store.

I’d no idea what time of day the frame might come, so I got on with updating the Saturday post. Got it completed and Pinterested some snaps from it. Went on Facebook updating, then the same with the WordPress Reader. Emailed the link, and made a brew of Glengettie Gold.

I closed down Computer Cameron and got some hand-washing done, before doing the ablutions. The old oven grabbers were washed with the other stuff. I’ve still got the new gloves, but these although hard to clean, easy to dirty, and very old and tatty (a bit my me really, Hahaha!), they’re more effective and easier to hold onto when Shaking Shaun or Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters play up.

I had a bit of spontaneous breakfast after the washing was done, wrung and hung—cheese biscuits and a pot noodle, and off to the wet room for a scrubbing-up.

I needed a Porcelain Throne visit first. One of the easiest for a long time. Yee-Ha! Still painful, of course, but so much quicker than even yesterday’s was! A bit of blood, a smidge messy. Needed cleaning up before I took a shower, Haha!

But would the cistern clear things? No! I needed to hand-fill the tank a couple of times, and still, some bits were floating even then? Aggravannoying!

The ablutions were miraculously incident-free again! Not much bother from Toothache Terence, only one dropsy of the toothpaste tube! The shaving produced only two little nicks that did not bleed much at all. Doing the showering and only one mini-dizzy-spell, and three dropsies! Drying off went well, too!

Ah, well, the medicationalisation didn’t go as smoothly, I’m afraid. I thought that the rear-end furuncle was clearing up yesterday, I was wrong, and applied the ointment a little too roughly, and the blood flowed! So had to apply some Dakacort cream to get it to stop! I cunningly did this in the shower area and then sprayed-away the resulting blood flow mess using the shower-head. (Smart, eh? Smug-Mode-Adopted!) Harold’s Haemorrhoid’s done with the Germoloid cream, and Arthur Itis’s knees and hands with the Phorpain Gel. I felt rather good about how I coped these problems!

The leg ulcer, or Clopidogrel allergy markings, had spread-out but got fainter, and some new ones appeared on top of the right foot, below the base of the toes. The fresh ones looked like freckles. Ah, well, it stops me getting bored, Hehehe! 

I got the new PPs on, a pair of trousers, and the maroon zip-up shirt. The Sock-glide was given a sneer of contempt, as I left the wet-room.

Because I was not wearing any socks, and the vicious, finger bruising and crushing monstrosity, was again, not going to be used, and my digits and legs put at risk of injury once more! Not that it scares me, of course! Oh, no!

Then, I set-too making up some black waste bags, and put the Floor-Voting paper on them, so as not to forget to take them with me on the way out with the bags, to the Rubbish chute, and take the voting paper down to the lobby.

I got a face-mask on, and the items were carried by hand, using only the wooden walking -stick. For some unknown reason, at that time, I felt in a rather panurgic, ready-for-anything mood? Yes, it confused and baffled me as, why as well!

By the time I’d got out, and to the chute-room, unfortunately, things had changed quickly. I was all over the place with the walking stick, and must have appeared drunk to anyone who might have seen me? The old balance had gone to pot again. I got the bags in the chute alright though.

Then clouted my right elbow against the door frame, on the way out of the room!  A spot of turbidity in the brain as I waited for the lift down to the ground-floor lobby. By the time I’d got down to the ground floor, and into the main hall, my balance was a lot better, and the foggy-brain seemed to be clearing. What’s going on here?

I posted the floor colouring preferences sheet into the ballot box.

And again, with a renewed physical and mentally settled state, I got the lift back up to the flat.

Where, perversely, the semiobscurity returned to the brain and vagueness, a lack of concentration came over me. My memories of getting Josie’s meal prepared is a bit sketchy. I discovered later on that I’d forgotten to photograph it, yet everything from when I wheeled it to Josie’s door, is crystal-clear? We chatted a short while, and I returned to the flat’s kitchen to get the cleaning up done.

I was doing well again, and then almost flaked out. My body and mind told me to get down in the chair, and stay there; I checked that I had on Medical Alert Alarm wristlet, which I did. And I immediately nodded of fitfully. I kept on waking up with the sunshine coming through the thin, decrepit, holed, curtains. But, nodded back off almost straight away each time. I suddenly jumped awake, and felt a different person, back to my old self? I’ll put this on the questionnaire when it comes from the hospital.

But I was feeling fine, and got up to check on the potatoes in the slow-cooker, made a brew of Glengettie Gold tea, and got the computer back on to update this blog. And Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters, and SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley), were both being good to me! I couldn’t understand what had happened, but I was so happy that things had returned to semi-normal. Obviously, now a scepticism and uncertainty remained, a sort of fear that it might happen all over again. Whatever the heck it was?

The door chimes rang out. It was an NHS chappie, delivering the new narrower walker for me. He was in a rush, my EQ picked up on that. I remembered what Nurse Caroline had told me about not doing anything with it when it is delivered until she calls again on Wednesday. So I put it with the spare three-wheeler on the balcony. I never thought I’d use one of these! It was wider than I expected, and I didn’t cope very well with it, putting it on the veranda, at all.

Updated this blog again, and it is now hours beyond my usual head-down time.

But the need for some Diary TFZer top graphics is urgent, so I moved onto CorelDraw.

Decided to make another brew first, straight Glengettie this time.

Then took a snap of the sunshine, and returned to CorelDrawing at last.

I only got one graphic done, (Tsk!), and made the template for tomorrows, and the got the fodder sorted out. Better late than never!

Battered fish strips, slow-cooked potatoes halved, and a bit of butter and onion-salt sprinkled on them. Garden peas, and some of the delightful baby Piccalo tomatoes. A pot of raspberry ripple mousse from the freezer, thawed out as I as the meal, nicely!

Tired-out now, but I stayed alert enough to enjoy this feast. Deserving of a Flavour-Rating of 8/10.

Went to get the meal things soaking in washing up bowl, and took this photograph of the evening’s view.

Having been up for over 20 hours or so, and in a state of weariness that was high, even for me, I felt so sure that I’d nod-off within minutes of getting my head down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, puke-making beige coloured recliner. It was not to be!

Sweet Morpheous did eventually arrive, but it was gone midnight by then! At least I got around four hours of deep-sleep in, before waking up in urgent need of a wee-wee and the Porcelain Throne. Ah, well, TTFN!

The tale in bad rhyme, of Inchies Escape from isolation, to Nottingham City Centre!

Monday, 7th September 2020, Inchcock escapes from captivity and cunningly flees his Woodthorpe Court. To investigate the Coronavirus affects in the City Centre, buy stuff he doesn’t need, cripple his poor feet, and a failed search for a chinwag!

Plans were laid,

For his escapade,

The Escape bid was made,

He was feeling fraught and afraid!

Arriving on Upper Parliament Street,

Alighted the bus, hobbles to Poundland,

Already pains from Relux Roger and his feet,

He spent on superfluous stuff, like crabmeat,

Then to the Bargain shop, wishing he could find a seat!

He bought three things, none of them needed,

His enthusiasm for his escape, now, receeded,

Little Inchies fungal lesion bleeding, succeeded,

His finances, he had further bleeded!

He hobbled along Milton Street then,

Down Clumber Street, he was saddened, when,

He saw the closed shop, there were over ten,

Including his camera shop, he nearly cried then!

Sadly, he made his way to the end,

Feeling lonely and down a bit,

What Coronavirus has created, can we mend?

Oh, dear, a penny he needed to spend!

The urge he had to suspend!

To the corner of Long Row, he did wend!

A photo of Pelham Street he did take,

Then one a shot backwards up Clinton he did make,

Long Row, too, where he took some more,

Off towards his bus stop in the Slab Square,

Paramedics, Security Guards, were there,

The people looked so full of despair!

The rain came down, he took shelter from it,

Under the shop eaves, but it didn’t last long,

He took this photo, he quite liked the resulting effect,

His bladder was full, to the bus stop direct!

En route, Slab Square was photographed,

He tripped on the wheeled trolley walker,

He even managed a little laughter,

When he passed wind and hiccoughed! 

He caught the bus back, a painful drive home,

Got off on Chestnut Walk, glad he finished his roam,

Damn it, he’d forgot to get his shaving foam!

He sheltered from the sudden rain,

Under the cover, and gloom was falling again,

He belched, it smelt like aminomethane,

He hobbled toward home; it was a strain!

He got in his flat,

He untangled his hearing aids from his mask,

It was a fiddley, difficult task!

Made himself a meal that,

Was too big, but not too much fat,

He fell asleep, and that was that!

Not a very good ode this time, uncertainty and confusion were visiting me. Sorry.

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

Bear with me; these are hard to find…

At birth, I lived through Mother’s fag ash dropping on me,

I had Double-Pneumonia at the age of three,

Sister Jane was almost adopted, to Italy, she did flee,

Brother Pete, escaped, good for him, went in the army,

Mother running away, the police wanted her, you see,

Which left just poor old Dad and me,

Doing the cleaning, shopping, and two paper-rounds, that was Inchy!

I survived being thrown in the Nottingham Canal,

Clinging to a barge rope, without much hope,

I was rescued by Brain, a neighbour, and a real pal,

Hauled out, was taken home, full of hope,

Got a belting off of Dad, and scrubbed with carbolic soap!

GC Young

Jane away in Italy still,

Life was for us both, a bitter pill,

We’d both had our sad times, but still,

I started work, bought a bike that would go uphill!

Duodenal ulcer, Anne Gyna I acquired easily enough,

Got shot at work, and a new heart fitted,

Fron flat to flat, I flitted,

Got made redundant, Cancer zapped, not fritted,

Job searching failed, hopes, attritted,

My desires, faith, and plans buffetted!

GC stick

Then along came Peripheral Neuropathy ailment,

 Jane, back from Australia, accompanied me,

To and from the hospital, she was heaven sent!

Then the stroke, I was a broken bloke,

Months in care, after the stroke,

Slowly, recovery began to cloak,

Bits of the old Inchcock, showed, bespoke,

And I knew something more would wroke!

Then the diabetes was found,

And things got worserer, all around,

When Saccades-Sandra, was also found!

But, my hopes and aspirations remain,

Although I am no longer sane,

I’m ready for the challenges again…

I just wish there was a little less pain!

I fang you!

 

Inchcockski – Saturday 29th August 2020: I felt anandrious today, and confused with it!

Saturday 29th August 2020

Sethoso: Moqebelo Oa la 29 Phato 2020

03:30hrs: I came to my limited warped senses, with only one aim, that was to get to the Porcelain Throne, pronto! I extracted my wobbly, overly-bellied body from the £300, second-hand, c1968 rickety recliner, caught my balance, grabbed Metal Mickey. Then I proceeded to do a slow-motion imitation of a John Cleese walk, desperate to hold back any anticipated escapages en route to the wet-room! I thought I’d succeeded!

I whipped down the PPs and got settled down sharpishly on the raised seat, There followed one of the most horrendous evacuations I’ve ever had. Sadly! 

The painful motion began of its own accord, the grindingly slow, pleonastic event went on and on… Argh! After what felt like an hour or so, (but was only a few minutes), the final push I had to make to encourage things along, was agony, but necessary. A few seconds to recover, and I stood up gingerly and found that much blood had flowed, in amongst the pebble-like evacuated product. And paradoxically, during the mass evacuation, I took no less than three wee-wees! But worse of all, some of the pebbles were on the floor around where I stood! So all my best efforts to avoid this happening came to nothing!

A good clean up, medicationing, and antisepticalisationing took place. During which, I caught Metal Mickey with my foot, and he came down straight onto my left foot toes!  I was worried about the noise the calamity had made, hope it didn’t bother anyone!

  Of course, I wasn’t bothered at all. I took it nonchalantly and in my stride. Pain means nothing to me, Ahem! However, the embarrassment flowed thickly!

I hobbled to the kitchenette, and needed another wee-wee! I can’t keep mention this,  but it kept on all morning, every wee was of the SSP (Short-Sharp-Painless) type, and, peculiarly, with no pre or after Micturition dribbling. Not a good start to the day, but my EQ insisted things will improve, that’ll do me if he’s right!

I took a snap of the morning view, then got the kettle on the boil, and retrieved the BP sphygmomanometer from the third-down medical drawer.

The Sys is still a bit high, and the pulse rate was up – this is possibly due to the nightmare evacuation farce on the Throne, and all the upset of the proceedings, methinks?

Made a brew of Glengettie tea, and took the medications. Then off to Computer Cameron, and made up a template. Then updated the Friday Inchcock, which, after the horrendous start to the day, went almost smoothly. Oh, Yes! The ailments were all, apart from Toothache Terence and Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, being kind to me! A long job, but I completed it in record time. Smug-Mode-Utilised! 

As I got up to go for yet another SSP wee-wee. Coming back, I spotted the card posted Thursday, had dropped between the chairs. I got the long picker-upperer and retrieved, and opened it. It was from Warden Deana, bless her.

I got the blog sent off to WordPress, Pinterested some photos from it, and made a start on this post.

After an hour or two, and many wee-wees, I went to make another brew, Thompsons Punjabi. I got some new potatoes in the crockpot, to marinate, with sea salt, and some fish vinegar for a while, I’ll put the hear on later.

Took the tea, and returned to Computer Cameron, but not for long, Toothache Terence was starting his searing with pain again, so back to the kitchen for an extra Codeine.

I visited Facebook and read and posted some stuff. Then went on the WordPress Reader section. Time’s flown, I’d better get the ablutions done. Back in a bit…

I’m back! Not as easy a session as yesterday, but that was a miraculously damage-fee special one-off session. Back to a closer to the norm performance today. Hehehe!

  ABLUTIONALISATIONING SESSION REPORT 

etc. And then ! Tsk!

  • On arriving in the wet room, the need for another Porcelain Session came. And a painful one it was! But far easier than the first one all the same.
  • Oh, dearie me! The cistern was not coping with removing the waste product! I had the lid off and kept flushing and refilling via a jug from the sink. I poked in the inlet pipe, and found it part-blocked with the toilet block seals? I gave up after that, I’ll have another go later on. Gragnangles! 
  • Too early to use the shower, too noisy. So I cleaned and medicated my lower regions, but gave up trying to stop Harold’s Haemorrhoids from bleeding, I’ll try after having the stand-up wash. When I can concentrate easier. Flagtoggles!
  • Pickleglobknobs! The teeth cleaning was a nightmare, well, morningmare, bleeding gums, agony from the toothache, and four dropsies of the paste and brush!
  • The one job, shaving, did frit me a tad. Yet it went so well, only twp dropsies of the razors, and one of the foam spray. And, only one tiny cut above ear-hole. It always amazes me, why does my hair grow around and in the earholes, but nowhere else? Just a thought. Confusionableitis!
  • Cleaning around the rear end caused a few stings from the furuncles and piles. Ohh-oh-ho!
  • The dreaded medicationalising, was as to be expected, hurtful! Hahaha!
  • When it came to putting on the fresh PP’s, I lost my balance a smidge, I didn’t go over though. Instead, I put my hand out on the floor cabinet to stop myself toppling. Thus clearing just about everything you can see in this photograph! Grobbleknangles!
  • Note the screws up Haemorrhoidcream tub? When picking things up, I dropped that one three times! On the third effort, it bounced off of the raised seat, on to the wall, and rebounded landing behind the pipework! Grigglebogsblowit! Took me a lot of effort to reach it with the short picker-upperer (Donated to me by Jenny, Bless her ♥), and I had to knock the cartilage damaged finger getting it!
  • Then I had a bash at freeing the waste product. More flushes, and prodding in the hole. It’s still not all gone, but I’d had lost heart and felt atrabilious. I left it, to try yet again later on.

The feet and legs, as with the rest of the body, was really anæmic looking. Ghostly, infirm, peaky! A few new blotches. Silver-Lining-Search-Result: However, the ankle ulcer continues to slowly fade away.

I got some trousers and my slippers on, and off to the kitchen. The morning was breaking, at last.

I got the kettle on for a mug of Thompsons Punjana.

Set the heat on the crockpot, and put some mushrooms in the saucepan, with some sea salt and balsamic vinegar.

Ah, Herbert’s at his model making again, I reckon. No drilling and hammering this time, just the odd tap-knock and clunk. No problem at the moment.

I had a look at the many emails awaiting my attention. Busy looking time coming up for next week.

The wee-weeing is still coming at a steady rate of knots, about eleven or more so far, I reckon.

I had a perusal of the Nottingham Local E-magazine. To find some of the latest Coronavirus figures available. It took a while, but I managed to get these articles found, that does not look too good.

The cunning way in which they have changed the central figure from total to just new cases make it look far less to worry about.

Yesterday’s figure: Four new infections were recorded in Nottingham – bringing its total up to 1,337. Across the wider county, there have now been 3,366 positive tests confirmed since the start of the pandemic. This is an increase of 10 since yesterday, with Broxtowe recording the highest number of new cases (three) in the last 24 hours. However, there were no new cases reported in either Mansfield or Ashfield, while Bassetlaw, Gedling, and Rushcliffe all recorded two new cases.

I had a look at the leeks, mushrooms, and new potatoes cooking progress. Coming along nicely. Then I went on to create a funny ode on WordPress. Well, that was the plan… but the Prescriptions arrived, Deepak himself delivered them, bless his cotton socks. I thanked him and gave him a bag of goodies for the staff.

I turned off the computer and placed the medicinal items in the kitchen, and got on with making the meal. Another goodish effort and I gave it 7/10 for a Flavour-Rating.

Consumed it with relish, and got the pots washed. The fatigue and weariness dawned on me as I sat down, but would Sweet Morpheus arrive? No!

Put the TV on, in the hopes, this might help. But, no! The danged Thought-Storms began! Confusion, aporias, and incongruities flourished! They produced a sort of habrobaniacal state of mind! Claptickleisations!

Inchcockski – Sunday 7th June 2020: I neared the zeneth of inconclusiveness, today!

Sunday 7th June 2020

Croatian: Nedjelja, 7 Lipnja 2020 Godine

TFZers in the pool!

03:30hrs: I stirred reluctantly and felt the need for a wee-wee developing. I took a snap of the sadly overgrown toenails, and they stuck out from the thin quilt. I must get this quilt hand-washed later today, along with the two zip-up jumpers, I’m not too keen on the idea, but needs must and all that!

I ejurated common sense and went to get up without checking on the ailments first. No sooner nearly upright, and I was back down again with a ‘Thud,’ back into the £300, c1968, second-hand, sickeningly-beige-coloured, none working, ramshackle, uncomfortable in the extreme, rusty, rickety, near-lethal, recliner. Harold’s Haemorrhoids were instantly proffering forth pain, and, judging by the wet warm sensation, were bleeding as well! Not a very promising start to the day!

After a few mild curse words and questioning of my point in continuing, I regained my composure. And checked over things, yes, the piles will need attention. So, gingerly I made my way to the wet room. I took a WSSUGG (Weak-Squirty-Spraying-Uncontrollable-Greeny-Grey) wee-wee and investigated the rear-ends requirements. Cleaning and medicating ensued. (Silver-Lining Findings): At least Little Inchies fungal lesion was not bleeding. I had a good wash of the hands. I got a bit carried away with it, Hehehe!

Off to the kitchen, to get the medications, palmoscopy, injecting, creaming, ear holes oiling, and sphygmomanometerisationing was done.

The SYS was back up high again, Sys 172, DIA 79, Pulse 80, and the temperature was 35.4°c. There was no need for any extra pain-killers this morning. The rear end is a bit sore where I fell back down in the chair on Harold’s Haemorrhoids, but not too bad.

As I was taking this shot of the morning view, it dawned on me, I seek not fortunes or fame, but only ataraxia.  But obviously, this is impossible; I don’t think it exists for anyone on earth, just a daydream state of mind. At the back of my warped troubled brain, I hoped I was wrong. I am an idiot! 

I decided to take a photo of a chap who was walking down the middle of Chestnut Walk to the hill up to Woodthorpe Grange Park.

Now, how I managed to take four pictures is beyond me! I checked the camera, and it was on the ‘Auto’ option. Then as he walked to the gravel hill, I took another photo but took two this time?

Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were not playing up, nor was Shaking Shaun or Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley. So why, how?

I made another brew of Thompsons Punjana and started on the updating of the Saturday blog. Then another graphic finished the Saturday blog, posted it, and the links off. On to Pinterest, WordPress Reader, then TFZer Facebooking.

Stopped to get ablutions tended to. And a fantastic session it was! Dropsies? No more than eight, no toe-stubbings, trapped fingers. No knocking into or anything over either!

Smug-Mode-Engaged!.

The leg ulcer looks like it’s changed its mind about coming back and is much fainter now. I’m chuffed with this accident-free ablution session!

Made a start preparing Josie’s and my cheesy potatoes. Chives, grated Leicester cheese, salt and a knob of butter, well bashed and mashed. Got Josie’s meal on the server tray, and wheeled it to her door. She seemed pleased with it.

I got stuck into my nosh. The boiled new potatoes had been in the crock-pot for about six-hours but were not fully cooked, so they found their way into the waste bin sharpish. Flavour Rated: 5/10. A smidge disappointed, I rose and got the washing-up done, and as I did so, the doorbells chimed out.

Blimey, I’d forgotten all about the Amazon delivery coming. Burkinhamianism! It was the Stubbs Hickory bottles and the bags of Tiramisu Cashew nuts.

I got the Stubbs in the cupboard, and nuts in the spare room, after taking out bubble-wrapping, and put it in the box with the others, I aim to hand these to ILC and Ice-skating champion, Scharführeress Julie. She loves to destroy them, Pop, pop! Haha!

Then I got some handwashing done, but only one of the zip-up jumpers, but it’s a start. Got it washed, wrung and hung!

Then of to the Porcelain Throne, but Constipation Konrad ensured there was no action. Despite my best painful efforts! Hunglebrunkdunk!

Washed, and as I was coming out of the room, a sudden weariness and tiredness came over me.

The only thing to do was get sat down in the none-working, tattered, £300, second-hand, uncomfortable rickety recliner, and let nature take its course. Surprisingly, I was asleep within ten minutes, and having afternoon nightmares with it.

Gruumblesodditluck! I rose up and decided to get the black bags sorted ready for the morning, and by gum, the sun came out, so late in the day as well, bootiful it certainly was, though.

I amassed about eight or nine small bags for the skip. It was too late to take them to the chute now, the noise of the falling bags on there way down, they would disturb my fellow residents and neighbours. Not that it mattered to someone above who was tapping and clunking away, merrily doing something or other.

As I was going to get my head down and try again for sleep, I had to shoot off to the Porcelain Throne again. I half-expected another failed evacuation; and got the crossword book out. After a few minutes, the movement began! All of its own accord and under the guidance of the innards, it ground its way painfully out. I thought it would was never going to end… and when it did with a thud, more than a splash, the relief was so very welcome!

Aha, back into the land of Nod!

Inchcock – Sat 17 Nov 2018: A mental grind doing the page top graphics. Another day indoors. didn’t see a soul, but I am a bit of a heel. Hehehe!

6Sat01

These Willmott-Dixon lads don’t mess about, do they? Hehe!

6Sat06

Saturday 17th November 2018

Ukrainian: Субота 17 жовтня 2018 року

WD 51.2.51 0050hrs: I woke sadly this morning. I felt melancholicism, was because the dream I’d been having had ended. The nocturnal reverie I’d had, was so lucid. When I became conscious of the fact that it was indeed a dream and not real, I was mortified! I knew that my beloved, long-lost cats, Cyril and Lady were in there somewhere, and I was so content and happy. Sometimes, waking up can be a drag! Tsk!

Once the brain had engaged and cleared, there was a significant lack of the usual morning wanderings. The incomprehensibilities that would typically come from the cerebration’s insistence of taking on all the problems of the universe, my fears, jealousies, and needs, etc. But not today, the brain was worryingly showing a rare but welcome imperturbability. No rushing back and forth with a melee of ideas, nervousnesses, anxieties, uneasiness or dreads!

These were replaced with the primary concern in my cell-cells box: Getting the graphics done for the Inchcock Today page tops. Having failed to get them sorted out yesterday, I knew this meant another day indoors on the keyboard, and hours spent on CorelDraw and WordPress. I hoped the concentration would last long enough this time, and Dizzy Dennis, Shaking Shaun, and Fatigue Frank would keep off.

First things first: Remove my avoirdupois, fat, fleshy, gross, wobbly body from the £300 second-hand recliner without injury or accifauxpa. All okay, got my tremendously torpid torso upright without any dizzy spells, and off to the kitchen to get the Health Checks done.

6Sat02

6Sat04 Took the medications and made a mug of tea. Then the summoning from the innards arrived, so, off to Porcelain Throne. Another messy affair. By the time I had cleaned things up and unsmirched the hands. The tea had gone cold when I got back into the kitchen.

WD 51.2.51 Duodenal Donald had kicked off while I was on the throne. So I took an extra Omeprazole and Clarithromycin to counter Duodenal Donald, and a Dia-Limit for the Trotskies.

6Sat03I opened the new window with the unwanted too many panes of glass to clean, light and view-blocking thick plastic frames and, outside ledge that blocks my taking picture downwards and checking for a fire in the event of a fire alarm activation.

The scene was pleasant again this morning A few spots of rain fell on the camera as I took this photograph.

On the computer, and I set about updating yesterday’s blog, and got it sent off. 

Off for an SSWW (Short, sharp wee-wee).

Went on WordPress Ready section, then checked for the comments. Then, at around 0415hrs, I turned to the mammoth task of creating page top graphics on Coreldraw.

I took a break, to make another brew. (That went cold too!) Had a look out of the unwanted, more-glass-to-clean, view and light preventing, the anti-photographer thick plastic muti-framed new kitchen window. Took these two pictures, to the left and right. Eerie sort of scenes, I thought.

6Sat09

Eventually, many hours later, I got caught up with the graphics! But not until 1320hrs: During the long grinding session, I took about eight SSWWs, and made five mugs of tea (drinking one of them!)… but I let the other four all go cold. Klutz!

When my brain stopped working on the graphicalisastioning, in an instant, Fatigue Francis dawned on me. But, I was so pleased to have got the graphics done for this blog page tops, and without any Shaking Shaun or Dizzy Dennis interference.

I got the nosh prepared and served up, for I was sure I’d soon fall asleep. For mentally, I honestly did feel so haggard, hollow-cheeked, hollow-eyed, gaunt, washed out and worn to a frazzle.drained.

6Sat24I had already got the baked beans marinating with seasonings: Demerara sugar, mustard, curry powder and BBQ flavouring. Cooked the potato waffles and added the pork loin.

WD 51.2.51 I’m afraid that the apple had gone all black/green and nasty inside. Luckily, I didn’t bite into it. It collapsed when I picked it up to do so. Hehehe!

The tiredness was that bad, I didn’t eat anywhere near all of this meal. A flavour-rating of 7.5/10 given.

I tried to watch some TV, but no sleep arrived? I gave up and put on a Steven Seagal film. I felt sure this often-watched over the years, ‘Under Seige’ film would send me into dreamland.

It did!

Zzzz…

Inchock – Frid 16 Nov 2018: Horrible Day, Dizzy Dennis, Shaking Shaun, Fatigue Frankie and Duodenal Donald, all struck! Tsk!

ZZZZ01wc

The Gorgeous TFZer Patricia, and Alcofrolic Keith. In love?

5Fri007

Friday 16th November 2018

Albanian: E Premte 16 Nëntor 2018

0145hrs: As I woke and awaited the brain to join my physical movement in action, the morning’s expergefactor made itself known. It was the importunate need to utilise the Porcelain Throne. The removal of bullous dominating abdominal region and body from the £300 second-hand recliner was achieved in minutes, and I hastened to the wet room. Although no toe-stubbing to delay me, I did knock the empty bottle of orange juice off of the side recliner.

WD 29.1.61 I got on the Throne just about in time. An uncomfortable and messy evacuation and Little Inchies fungal lesion needed cleaning up, the blood had leaked then dried; So you will appreciate this was not a painless or pleasant medicationalisationing and cleansing session. Very fermisht!

No call for me to complain, mind. Apart from Hippy Hilda, all the other ailments appeared to be resting. Haha!

5Fri002WD 29.1.61 I did notice a few of the EIBWBBB’s (Curculionoidea) Evil ironclad Boll-Weevil black biting beetles had put in an appearance. Most of them had been killed, presumably by my cough-creating spraying of the Bug Killer. Just one was alive and frisky, he/she got away. I decided that an EIBWBBB search and destroy mission was called for in all the other rooms, just like the last 186 days since the infestation began! Still, now that other tenants have got the same thing, something might get done to help? Although I believe my spending a fortune on the cans of spray and coughing my lungs up, has kept them down a little. He says not knowing what he’s talking about! Haha!

5Fri003Off into the kitchen, where I found around ten dead weevils, but no live ones at least.

The spare room had a decent selection of dead and live ones on the unwanted light and view-blocking new window ledge again.

I found a couple of EIBWBBBs on the hallway carpet as well, much alive.

Washed the hands in antiseptic disinfectant and soap. Off to the kitchen. The Sphygmomanometer operated the first time for the Health Checks.

5Fri001b

5Fri004These first of the days’ readings looked to be all close to what they tell me is normal readings. Apart from the temperature.

Made a brew and guzzled the medications.

I got with finishing the Thursday Inchcock Today. My concentration this morning is pretty wretched, pathetic! But I got it completed eventually.

This idea suddenly came into my tortured brain, for a poem about the view from my kitchen window. Morning Thought in Ryme – and an R.I.P. to the hundreds of Evil ironclad Boll-Weevil black biting beetles (Curculionoidea) I’ve killed and hopes that one day I will be infestation free! I hate it when I get these brainwaves for an idea for a blog, but only like to say, when I get them while I’m in a confused state mentally. This meant I stopped what I was doing because I just had to get the post written! Humph! So, naturally it took me hours, four at least to get the ode done and sent off! Then, I’d forgotten and lost track of my brains thoughts of what I was doing beforehand! Klutz!

Funny rhyme and Weevil thoughts Bit of fun, a laugh and some bad poetry too!

On to Facebook TFZ site to catch up. Finished it at 1140hrs.

Made a brew of teas and dunked some Highland Shorties.

Not good concentration not there, but I got onto CorelDraw, as I was out of Inchcock Today header graphics and got some made up. But nowhere near enough of them. However, Dizzy Dennis and Shaking Shaun seemed to be an alliance of some sort and determined to stop 5Fri006my concentration by making it impossible for me to do any computer work. They won, with the help of Fatigue Frankie’s arrival; which forced me to abandon what I was doing, get something to eat and collapse.

WD 29.1.61 Did the Health Checks, with high results for Sys and Dia again!

5Fri34Got a meal made up.

A mixture of cold fodder on the plate. (Not up to cooking, and now Duodenal Donald is having a bash at me, Tsk!)

So tired and drained yet again, so early in the day too? I was a tad concerned at how I felt, and it is times like this that I appreciate having the Health Alarm Wristlet, just in case.

I ate about a third, if that, of the food, put the tray on the other chair, and turned on the TV.

I woke seven hours later! (Yes, seven hours [I must have needed it] sleep for me!) But I still felt so weary?

Poor old thing! Hahaha!

Inchcock – Thurs 15 Nov 2018: Much betterer day, Chinwags, Laughs and Humour! Yee-Haa! Then the fatigue arrived. Ah-Well!

ZZZZ01we

Lizzie & Andy – Celebrating!

4Thu001a

Thursday 15th November 2018

Armenian: Հինգշաբթի 15 Նոյեմբեր 2018 թ

Approx. 0000hrs: Woke with a start. I had been having a dream, well, a nightmare. The visions had so many elements of unhappy times from my past. It made me shudder to recall them. A frozen canal, driving along the footpath, the car broke down, and I ended up on all fours, struggling up the mass of ice and kept slipping back down the incline, avoiding the over vehicles that were driving up to the bridge… This may get a little more confusing, but I was writing this from the notes I made to use later, and they were very sparse and terse. Each time I lost my grip, I’d slide back in time repeatedly and suffer the humiliations of me failure gone; Carters Soft Drinks, TA at Gatwick, Co-op shop days, lost love’s, etc. Then find myself back the frozen bridge over the canal again. I felt there was so much more, but the memories had gone and I only had my barely decipherable scribbled notes to use. I felt so glad when I woke up and realised it was not real! I drifted off again. My first dream in months, too!

0115hrs: Woke and found the notes, but real recollections of the nightmare were limited. The one factor that remained was my was my relief in realising it was all a dream!

I extracted my corpulent, obese flobby-bellied body from the £300 second-hand recliner with no hassle at all. Lost my balance a bit, though, as I set off to the kitchen to get the Health Checks done and take the medications.

4Thu001.jpg

Off to the wet room and a Porcelain Throne session. That was much better this morning. No bleeding or over fluidity. I got the Santex Bug Killer and sprayed around. I only found three dead Evil ironclad Boll-Weevil black biting beetles (Curculionoidea) in the room! Amazed at this, I went to treat each of the cells to some Rentokil Bug Killer treatment. The spare room produced only three dead EIBWBBB’s. Doing well, but I know from experience, the EIBWBBB’s sometimes seem to be dwindling, and then return in force again. Humph!

P1040025Back to the kitchen, took a photograph of the morning view and had a hunt around for any Weevils I could find that might need liquidating.

Not the most inspiring of photographs is it? Hehe!

Only two more live EIBWBBBs found. RIP.

Made up some graphics to us on here, with CorelDraw.

Went on WordPress Reader. Updated and posted off the Inchcock Today.

Went to make another mug of tea, and spotted some workmen down outside in the bottom field. WD 22.1.46 The last two of the photographs (The two that I moved the camera selector to the correct mode to take, Tsk!) When it gets light in the morning, I tke some more shots of the sad demise of the trees.

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4Thu06aRubbish was taken to the chute, pressies, raffle prizes and other needed stuff in the bag, and off I set to the Nottingham City Homes, Winwood Flats, Oberstgruppenführer Wardens Temporary HQ. Sarcasm & Insult distribution area. Emergency WC that is always occupied (Hehe!), Tenants Socialisation Shed. Telling Inchcock off Zone. Things like china and pottery to be stolen from, and residents room, for the Winwood Social Hour.

Arriving at the Portacabin, I found about fifteen of the tenants in there.  Jenny, Cyndy, Margaret, Doreen, Doris Brian etc. and the others were soon joined by a few others. BJ, Bill (William on Sundays), John and others. I write this to show off how I have remembered some of the folk’s names… although of course, I may have a few of them wrong… Hehehe!

A lively session. Handed out the pressies and nibble box, and had a few chinwags that I do enjoy so. They seemed to be getting along alright today. Jenny was in her usual sparkling form. Frank seemed to be in a good mood. Hauptbereitschaftsleiteress Warden Deana had a word, asked me how the infestation of the Weevils was going. 

Out to the bus stop later, where a gaggle of pensioners had accumulated. Oberscharführeress Warden Deana was talking to the chap and asked me to inform the bloke of how to cope with the Evil ironclad Boll-Weevil black biting beetles (Curculionoidea). I shoed the man photographs from my camera card, of the £1 Sanmex Bug Spray and told him where he could get it and where they were on the shelves, from Poundland, telling him this spray was as good as the £6.99 Rentokil. Now I know why interest was shown in my invaders, the chap had reported it to the Nottingham City Homes Management.

4Thu07Down the hill on the bus, and onto Mansfield Road. Called in to get the medications.

Then to the Continental Food Store. Got some bread and Croissants on Special Offer, Cyndy. Margaret and Jenny and Frank like these, so I got a few in, because they had a good shelf life on them, and I can treat them at the next Social or if I see them around in the flats.

WD 22.1.46 I called into the charity shop and had a potter around. Finding a walking stick, just the length to suit me as well. For £1.50! So I bought it. The walking stick ferrule split within the first hundred yards. Humph!

4Thu09Out, over the road and up the hill to the Post Office shop to see if they had got the Highland Shorties back in stock.

They had indeed! The list of ingredients matched precisely with the contents of the Asda Walmart Scottish Shorties. But these were cheaper if you bought two, for only a pound! My favourites too! Very dunkable, but you have to be quick to avoid dribbling! Hehehe!

I met Cyndy in the shop. We both went over the road to the Wilko Store. I got a pot of the laundry freshener and some liquid soapflakes.

4Thu07aMargaret joined us at the bus stop, or was it on the bus when we got on? Dang memory! Good job I take so many pictures, they prompt the memory-box when doing these diaries.

I sat on the seat behind the gals and sneaked this photographicalisation of them. Lovely gals. Margaret’s put-downs are superior, but Cyndy’s innuendos are perfectly timed. I like this pair of lasses. Humorous and they allow me to chinwag with them sometimes! I can’t ask for more in my mental and physical state. Hehe!

Back to the flats, and back to the apartment. I was first off of the lift. Farewells and thanks to Cyndy, I got into the flat and had an SSWW (Short Sharp Wee-Wee).

4Thu08WD 22.1.46 Again the fatigue arrived early.

Did the Health Checks.

I got the nosh prepared. Mini veg sausages, tomatoes and Passata, with some of the brown continental bread.

WD 22.1.46 I don’t know why, but the Asda lemon dessert had mould on it when I opened it to eat it? And, it still had six days shelf life on it? Oy Vey!

I was soon in the Land-of-Nod.

Woke later, and did the last Health Checks and medications taken. I was soon off again… Zzz!

TTFNski!