LIBERTY-GLOBAL-OLIGARCHS?
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Let’s delve into the truth of ‘Hope’, clinically,
To see if it developed from ampullosity,
‘Hope’ to me seems somewhat bizarrerie,
Because finding it is hard for me…
I don’t act belligerently or truculently,
I’m a ditherer, I don’t act confidently,
My Carer say’s I’ve got too much benignity,
I think I’m shy, nervous and cowardly,
There I go off the subject again, you see?
I’ll try to concentrate more, hopefully…
‘Hope’, to me, seems to be, hypothetically,
A forlorn dream, with no reality…
I thought ‘Hope’ would help Inchy,
But I forgot about his mental instability,
His? I’m him! Another drift from verity,
I still want ‘Hope’ & help regardlessly,
Although I see the pointless futility,
Sometimes I consider ‘Hope’, frivolously,
The next time, maybe negatively,
Then back to frustration & hostility,
Yet I still try so desperately…
Then I go all unenthusiastically,
Depression falls, I turn apathetically…
A seizure, a giving way from Cartilage Chloe,
The coming arrival of complacently,
And I ‘Hope’ for ‘Hope’, pessimistically,
Body & mind acting chaotically,
Ménière’s Mini-seizures, increasingly,
I think I must not lose hope, glibly…
I even turned for help to quixotry!
As if to prove my eccentricity,
Or maybe that ought to be docility?
My physical ailments seem a triviality,
Finding ‘Hope’ & help, surely unrealistically,
The Lord made my life qualificatory…
A body and mind, deformed & queachy,
Doomed; never be happy or peachy,
I have had luck! But only quadrennially,
I acted rightly & astutely, well, in 1953,
I’m more hopeful for my sempiternity…
Not knowing where or when, for eternity,
Pray, please, no return ticket awaitingly!
If I find ‘Hope,’ will it also make me lucky?
Finding ‘Hope’, I try so persistently…
‘Hope’, is it mythical? It’s beyond me!
Why is it such a mystery to me?
Is ‘Hope’ biodegradable and sugar-free?
Why is it issued unequally, unfairly?
I can’t get any ‘Hope’, that’s a certainty,
No ‘Hope’ within by boundaries, locality,
I live in la-la land despondently…
And a part-reality, customarily,
Like others ‘Hope’ seeking, despondently,
I collect bills and demands; it’s called scripophily,
Carer Joe sorts them out for me weekly,
No offers of hope delivered to Inchy…
Finding ‘Hope’ may help propitiatingly,
‘Hope’ I get it before my necropsy!
Sorry about this Ode’s nugacity,
Call on me, & we’ll have a mug of tea,
Ice cream and/or chocolate biscuits…
I’d love a chinwag, mischievously!
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Got yesterday’s nosh photo to go on!
Well, I think it was.
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I didn’t rise until gone 0630hrs this morning. I’d had a long sleep again, broken, but not all that often. I reckon I got six hours in, and that was on the incommodious, uncomfortable, cumbrous, toe-curling, cringe-making, second or third-hand bought from the Oxfam Charity shop, Cathleen-Catheter-Tube-Crushing, hurtful for Harold’s Haemorrhoids, germ-ridden, horrendously grungy, uncomfortable, not-working recliner.
I felt a little perky when I got up and decided to clear the waste bins, etc. I
pictured & emptied the night bag. U6 rating.
Took a snap of the morning view out of the kitchenette window. I was hit by another of the odd seizures where I knew what was happening, but I was unsure why or what.
This was followed by general confusion and an almost total lack of concentration. I coughed, bringing up phlegm, and my voice went croaky. Walking, it was not easy to keep my balance.
Carer Ahman arrived. He showed concern and again wanted to phone for an ambulance. I disuaded the lad, telling him I was going to get in the bed as soon as he finished. I assured him I’d use the alarm wristlet if things didn’t improve after I’d had a kip. I’m sure we spoke of other things, but not what about? He put my diabetic socks on and gave me the medications. I got into bed while he was doing his report on his mobile phone. He also shut the curtains for me as the light in the room annoyed me for some reason. Ahman said I was not talking clearly but mumbling more; I think he said the same Sunday morning. I genuinely hope that this is not going to happen each morning. A third time, and I will have to press the alarm. I do not have the foggiest idea why this waking up and fading is happening. At least it didn’t last for long.
I bade him thanks and cheerio and settled in the bed, adjusting the settings 
to ensure I was not lying too flat. Comfort arrived. Yes, I did nod off for a short while. Waking up without any neck, shoulder, or leg jerkings. That in itself was nice! I was under the impression that I’d slept for a few hours because I was feeling so much better now. The wall clock told me I’d only slept for half an hour, but it did the trick.
I wasted no time in taking advantage. I went to take another kitchen window photo and used the speed mop to clean the disgustingly dirty kitchenette floor—I hope I’ve not left it sticky again. Then, I took another snap of the late morning view.
I spent ages trying to get the photos on the blog and got most of them on, but it took an aeon!
My beloved tree copse, looking thin still.
Close up of the battling for life leaves.
Even closer & higher, the crows
have not arrived yet?
Much to my amazement, Carer Joe arrived. It was already 13:25hrs! So, I assume that
Arithmaphobia Arnold had me fooled again. Maybe I’d had some non-epileptic seizures? I can’t remember having them.
Peptac issued, I was thinking of asking for a Codeine, but with Anne Gyna being minimal bother at that time, I didn’t want to give her an excuse to kick off with her mobile stabbing pains, which make breathing a little overheavy, painful & hard work.
The unsteadiness of my balance was lingering but slowly getting less frequent. The froggy-sounding voice remains, but none of the serious stuff.
I wondered if I’d gone into the kitchen with Kodak-Tim-2 to snap the incredible view while the floor was still wet. I went to check. Now I really was confused. 
It must have been many hours ago when I mopped it up; there is no chance it could still be wet. What a plonker! Still, I took another shot at the pathway I could no longer get into Woodthorpe Park. Spit!
However, now things were getting better, not the croaking voice. Anne Gyna had belatedly started greeting me with her roving pains and breathing botherations. However, my dizziness and balance had improved, and I found myself singing.
Great Balls of Fire! What’s going on here?
Where have I been? What was I doing?
It’s nearly 20:00hrs already!
The Carer will be here anytime now, over the next hour or so, and I’ve not had anything to eat or done the ablutions or medicalisations yet!
How can this be happening?
Skin on chips, a vegetable and no-meat meat pastie, pickled chestnuts & mushrooms, two wholemeal rolls to make chip butties out of, and salt & vinegar, pepper and Soya BBQ sauce. (A little too hot for me… anybody fancy a bottle?)
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Chow!
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. She was persistent with it. I think I may have had a few nocturnal seizures as well. So many wake-ups, but my response was different for some of them, and it took me a lot longer to get back to sleep after a few of them. There were none of the 
episodes and a few of the 
. Did you see that? I was being diagnostic, investigative, and problem-solving, on the verge of being semi-logical in my assessment of the night’s kipping difficulties? 
I removed the night bag from the day bag, and bending down, I got a visit from 
… that was a bad one. In the late afternoon, while on the computer, he called again and was even more effective. I had a good few today.
It looked bleak outside, with a bit of drizzle.
I did some hoovering and sorted the waste bins. Then, I felt guilty about the mess in the wet room that still needed to be cleaned, so I went to the wet room.
1
, gave way and I dropped the walking stick. I slid down with my back against the wall and plumped on a pack of six (approx. 5-inches high) mini-mineral spring water bottles onto my bum. With both knees doubled up, Arthur Itis and the Cartilages were agony!
The fridge.
The freezer.
The waters.
I took another kitchen window shot.
The day’s original Beloved Copse shot
To the left of the window and down a bit.
A ready-made beef in gravy with colcannon mashed potatoes. I added the last can of minced beef in gravy, carrots, and peas. Added some Marmite to the mixture and stirred it all up. Just four minutes in the microwave & it was ready-to-eat. 
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A 7, I think, on the NHS scale.
The sun broke through.
Clock-Calendar.
Slow, painful, & bloody.
The wound on Arthur Itis and Catheter Chloe is getting so much better already.
Unburnt lambburgers!
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First one.
My beloved tree copse.
Cavendish Vale
CorelDraw problems again.
This might be out of sync timewise?
Green skies, as well.
and 
kicked off.
, 
!
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he nocturnal catheter pouch was removed from the day pouch. A decent colour this time. Which, incidentally, should have been changed last Friday according to the date written on it, but things kept ensuring that I forgot to remind the carer about it. Sleep problems, seizures, Little Inchies Fungal lesion, Harold’s Haemorrhoids, the nose and Toothache Tiffany bleeding away. Yet somehow, I didn’t get caught up with the blog; the computer was dead set against me saving photos, and I had no heart to take many.
My BP was decent this morning after yesterday’s 2nd Hyper of the week. 
Dizzy Dennis, Loss-Balance-Barbara, and a little help from a short 
had me over! Inchy took another tumble! However, he redirected his route to the floor and lunched onto the bed! I pulled the quilts and dressing gown off the bed. But pleased he’d avoided any injuries… That’s not strictly correct. Harold’s Haemorrhoids, which had just been 
cleaned and ointmentated, started bleeding. Which stained the fresh Protection pants he’d just struggled to get on. He now struggled to get off and replace them with another fresh 
pair after cleaning and creaming again! Noticing that the urine was now bloodied in the tube. Then I got the long picker-upperer to get the things from the floor and tidied up a little, not a lot! Hence,
I had to frequently wash dry and Germoloid Little Inchies Haemorrhoids throughout the rest of the day. 
Not a lot, but nice. This may be the wrong photo?
Belatedly, my memory springs into action…
did not toy with and tease me so often, but with 
now becoming 
, there is plenty of scope for me to make even more mistakes in future comments. Oh, I haven’t mentioned the NHS letter yet! 
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Pants, etc, ready for after the shower & shave, and medicationing duties were finalised. Took them with me into the wet room.
bottom down on the WC. The evacuation was a tacky-sticky, messy one. I did the few teeth I have left, causing, I’m afraid, 
While shaving, I’m sure I went into a few seizures of over 20 minutes or so. As I had supposedly finished shaving and rinsing off the foam and blood, it dawned on me that I had shaved only half of the face and neck! It’s like I go on auto-pilot… but as with the computer, where I get the majority of the seizures. I keep doing things while ‘under the grip of 
(sometimes), and I come to semi-awareness to find I’ve made a mess of everything I’ve done. But this is the first time it has happened in the wet room. I assume, anyway. So I had to reshave again. Bringing up the total number of cuts and knicks to a count of five.
: The usual routine was carried out, but the Catheter netting bag was not attached; too much genuflecting is not suitable for and upsets Dizzy Dennis, Arthur 
Itis, Cartilage Chloe & Carol, Bad-Balance-Barbara, and can trigger Tumble-over- or Trip-over-Trevor. 
, and 
. then rubbed in the Barrier Cream on Inchy’s-Bouncy-Belly
, 
and checked to make sure there were no more outbreaks of 
.
Then, I got the eyes and ears medicated. Next
This was the last job, as usual, in the wet room. Luckily, the pain does not bother me in the slightest 
bit. I just laugh it off and usually start singing a song or yodelling. Today, it was Frankie Vaughan’s Don’t Stop, Twist’… 
was playing up again. Later, when I got on the computer, I gave the sparse teggies and gums a blast of £599.00 per 100 ml Toothache pain relief spray. Some effervescent paracetamols were added to the Bladder-
demanding spring water bottles. I almost forgot to empty the nocturnal pouch. I then realised and stopped myself in time, as the Carer will need to confirm 
the colour with the NHS colour record chart/card. Carer Chloe arrived later and said it was a match with a classification of a seventh level. Ah, well!
My beloved DVT Anticoagulation Warfarin nurse, Hristina, arrived. And she could tell the difference in my responses… even if I couldn’t.
Aha, got some from, not many, from earlier in the day.
Unfortunately, only these two above.
Bootiful!
Plenty of vehicles in today.
The last shot was as the sun was on its way down.
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A better week, apart from the glitches with the urine
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A zoomed-in early morning picture of the sun coming up from behind the flats.
This morning’s efforts.
Is my urine going darker again?
Renaurds affected feet and toes. I made a mess of the photo; I assume I’d put the flash on, so it looks weird.
Morning all.
It looked like some clouds were going to land.
Mature cheese thickly spread sarnies with some Marmite added. Red onions, fish sticks & beetroot. Another pot of Limoncello lusciously licked off of the spoon, Haha!
I added some more alcohol to my bottle of spring water.
I got an unintentional artistic wobble on.
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As of this moment (15:35hrs), I’ve been clear of any Accifauxpas, serious Whoopsiedangleplops, and even free of Electric Shocking Sherida! But the day has brought some terrible back pains. I assume this was caused by
Way too deep!
Nice late-morning shot.
Wet Room Duties.
First Carer called.
Left, ahead & to the right, kitchen window.
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While serving up the nosh.
I’m not sure if it was the food or me, but I was not armoured by the taste or flavour of this effort. Sham
The lights were from the Goose Fair, about a mile away to the left of the window.
A different shade and colour?
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Doesn’t yer know that today started so well that I was questioning my own insanity? What a start to this prospectively enlightening, trouble-
free, and confidence-returning day! 
The colour of the urine was classified by Carer Richard later, 
as a seven on the NHS rating colour card. That was a bit of a downer for me. Yet, I found myself whistling, well, I say whistling. I was trying to whistle; it was not easy with me losing another half-tooth to the land of rot and 
yesterday. Still, I laughed it off; even when Little Inchy’s fungal lesion started to bleed, I kept up my pecker… Honestly!
I put the Kodak Tim in my gown pocket and tried to take a selfie shot of how little the nick was.
chin was embarrassing as well!
I took a photo of the morning view from the kitchenette window and put the kettle on to make a brew of Thompson’s Punjana tea.
Then, I emptied all of the waste bins into one and placed it near the door for the Carer to pick up for me.
As I turned to hobble back to the kitchen to make my tea, guess what? I
against the towel dryer. Now, I was beginning to feel a little riled, ruffled, ratty, almost to the point of getting hacked off.
‘s via 
.
! It was a man and woman (Amelia) 
from Specsavers checking the eyes. It was, I suppose, perfectly understandable that I forgot they were coming. 
, supported by 
it’s no surprise. They came in, barely hiding their disgust at the state of the room with the bed in it. Their superiority oozed from them as they went through the selling parts of their mission. Q & A’s. Sense of humourless. Prospective future Oligarchs, I think. Anyway, it seems I am cataract-free in both eyes. They think it must be the Glaucoma that’s causing the problems.
Arrived, full of beans. Gave her some nibbles and a drinkie for her kids. No medications were needed; I was too confused to take any after the WordPressing farce. Which is what I returned to after she rushed off on her duties.
or two.
Tired out now, but still messing about trying to sort out the changing font issue. Sod it, I made a brew of Glengettie tea and enjoyed it. Oh, I’ve just realised I’ve not had a Porcelain Evacuation all day!
If a need for food develops, then I might have an evacuation. I have more eyes and shoots to remove from the potatoes before putting them in the oven.
I took these pictures on the left earlier and forgot about them; it could happen to anyone, I say.
I’m drained and tired out, and I just smelt the burning potatoes in the oven! Another oven tray to throw away. More potatoes to de-scab and cook again. Which I did, smilingly, happily, contentedly… I speak LYINGLY Hehehe!
Nothing fancy, but I was hungry, so I enjoyed it.
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Only one today. Phew!
This is a ready-made, just-warm-it-up job: pulled BBQ pork and potato mash. I shelled some pod peas to eat raw with it, baked a potato, halved it, and 
lathered it in Flora’s creamy alternative to dairy, Non-Butter butter. It’s a
Nodded off to sleep, waiting for the football match to start. And Carer Christopher arrived. I just love that yellow Bob-Cap of his.
The Austria v Türkiye match had everything in it: rain storms, sweat, determination, action, and a result that I could live with; a Türkiye win!
The Türkiye team had put in such effort that most men collapsed when the final whistle sounded. Boy, did they deserve it, too!
Carer Christopher arrived on his last call. He medicated me and shot off home. I couldn’t blame him!