Lymphorrhoea Leslie

Inchie Today: Sunday 26th April 2026

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Food Shortages On The Way
Carbonated Drinks/Beer: CO2 is crucial for carbonation, and shortages can affect production.
Meat Products: Chicken and pork, which require CO2 for packaging and processing, are deemed highly vulnerable.
Salad/Packaged Foods: Shortages in carbon dioxide affect the shelf life and packaging of fresh, prepared fish, fruit and salad items.
Baked Goods: As with salads, some vegetable packaging may be affected.
CO2 Shortages: A major UK plant’s potential issues, coupled with high natural gas costs, have constrained the supply of fertiliser and CO2, a by-product of the process.
Geopolitical Instability: Threats to supply chains and rising energy costs, with warnings of shortages within weeks. Flight Cancellations: Airlines are reducing flights due to a jet fuel shortage, leading to many cancellations of orders.
Fresh Produce: Tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers may face shortages or significant price hikes due to rising, war-driven energy costs for greenhouses.
What To Stock
Tinned Meats & Fish: Tuna, sardines, salmon, corned beef, spam, corn, and stewed steak.
Tinned Meals/Veg: Baked beans, chickpeas, kidney beans, soup, and tinned potatoes.
Carbs: Pasta, rice, noodles (like Super Noodles), dried soya, and oats.
Long-life Dairy & Alternatives: UHT milk, powdered milk, and canned custard.
Nutrient-Dense & Pantry Items: Peanut butter, nuts, dried fruit, honey, and cooking oils (ghee).
Comfort Foods: Chocolate, biscuits, crisps, some sauces and sweets.
Recommendations
Stockpiling Advice: Experts suggest maintaining a basic inventory of non-perishable items, including tinned foods, rice, and pasta.
STARMER
The UK government is planning for potential summer 2026 food shortages: chicken, pork, and products requiring carbon dioxide, such as packaged meats and fizzy drinks, due to disruptions in the Strait of Hormuz. While not currently critical, this “worst-case scenario” could lead to reduced variety in supermarkets and higher food inflation, currently forecast to increase by 10-15%.
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After yesterday’s unbelievable series of happenings, Frustrations, Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, and Mini-Catastrophies, that followed a similar pattern to the three days before, I felt surely today, the Lord’s Day, would bring a less-pressured, less-hassled, mayhap even calmer, smoother day. 
06:35hrs, I stirred, feeling that the swollen legs were a little less painful. Until I tried to stand up.
Sorry, but today has been so busy again.

BP on Hyper Level.
Iceland order.
Not a lot.
Plenty of bog rolls and spring water,
just in case of shortages coming,
Need it for the Catheter.
State of retained water feet.
Carbonated drinks.
Afternoon views.
Tree Copse, how I miss visiting it.
Sky snap.
After the 2nd nurse’s visit.
CorelDraw froze, again!
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Not much detail, so far behind again.
Just too busy, Humph!
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Ejaz did all but the last call today, a grand lad, conscientious and caring. 👌🏼
Another good um, Mizra did last call.

Jenny, bless her, rang me and commiserated.
👼🏻 My Guardian Angel. 👼🏻

Got some food made up, Mizra had kindly prepped for me earlier. Just got to get the spuds and peas out of the slow-cooker, if they are ready.

They were…
Imitation crabsticks, pickled mushrooms,
Extra-Strong Stilton cheese, garden peas heated in soy sauce, chopped green tomato, and all the remaining small potatoes with a splash of Hoisin sauce on the spuds. Gorgeous Taste!

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Inchie: Sunday, 5th April 2026

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The first thing I recall on waking up was . Seconds later, I realised I was virtually shivering with cold. I knew something was wrong to feel this cold as I saw this morning’s sunshine blasting through my cotton-thin, tattered-edged curtains, their hooks missing from the balcony. I took off the nocturnal Catheter pouch, got a hold of  and went over to investigate where the cold was coming from. Taking this snap of the view… through the wide open balcony door! No wonder I was shivering, I’d left the doors open and been sleeping in the nearby aged, grotty-looking, c1966-made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. I closed the door and found that I had somehow lost one of my night socks. I needed to get warm, and, conveniently, the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived. I limped into the wet room and put the heater on. Got sat on the raised plastic seat, and wallowed in the warmth from the convector heater on the wall. It took mages to get the evacuation underway, but as I was warming up, I didn’t mind it at all today. I was convinced after ten minutes of urging and pushing, the Constipation Conrad would be in control. But, no! Although the first torpedo clunked into the bowl, immediately followed of a Trotsky Terence-like performance of splattering, stinking, watery mass flowed. The torpedo was dark brown; the follow-up was orangey-light brown. It cost me half of a new toilet roll, and an awfully long time to clean things up after the event.

I tried to get back to sleep by adding an extra-heavy quilt to the other one. But Ejaz rang the intercom to get admission. We did my Health Checks with the sphygmomanometer, blood tests with the Pulse oximeter, and measured the temperature. I think they were slightly better than the previous few days, but still in the High Category. Medications provided. Teeth were tinctured. Earholes olive oiled. Then  Shuddering Shoulder Shirley was Salved. Harold’s bleeding Haemorrhoids were Germoloided, and Little Inches bleeding Fungal Lesion was anticepticated. That was the only one that tested my pain level. Arthur Itis and Cartilages Kloe and Carole were Pornapain-gelled.

The back, amazingly, did not need any medicating… that’s a first this year. Then, while I was brushing my teeth, Ejaz made me a mug of tea; he’s getting better at it lately. Supplying me with some bikkies to dunk in the mug. Going through this every day can get a bit wearying. But thanks to Jenny’s help, I have longer visits on some days, which stops my blogging, but it is of great assistance when Mizra or Ejaz does it. They know what is needed and do not ask me what I want all the time. They, I think. appreciate my neurological problems and how they affect me, memory-wise, stuttering, and loss of balance. The others even leave me to bend down. Which is a bit galling when they do that, while they are on their mobiles doing reports, I assume.

After bidding Ejaz Cheerio and Tara, I took a decent snap of the view from the kitchenette window. Then had to pay another visit to the . This was almost a copy of the first effort of the day. More time lost. Glad that I’m well stocked up with toilet paper! For a treat, I’m using an Andrex roll between each of the terribly thin, cheap rolls.
I’d like to work out what’s happening with these dual activations of both Trotsky Terence and Conrad Consitpation-like evacuation on the same visit?

I hoovered the hallway and kitchen. Well, it’s not a Hoover, is it?
It is an Akitas cheapo version from Amazon. I can’t be accused of being high-class, educated, or a snob. Hehe!
Common as muck would be the best epitaph for me. When they bury my ashes or whatever they do, I’d like a plaque on the wall or put in the press. Perhaps something along the lines of:
“He came, He failed, and he went” Haha!

I think I saw some rain falling as I took this shot through the balcony windows. The door chime chimed, and in came Carer Ejaz, on his midday call. We checked the second Health Check figures were recorded correctly on the Excel log, and I was in so little pain, just took two Paracetamol. Good that!,
As Ejaz was getting ready for Porpain-Gelling Shaking- Shoulder-Shirley, he noticed that I must have been scratching away at the still showing scars on my lower left arm.
He put some Cetreben cream on it. Advising me not to scratch at them again, or they will never clear up or disappear.

Google’s opening was still hit-or-miss. I just kept trying a different icon for the same action until one worked. A different one responded to being pressed each time. WordPress was not so jerky today, well, at 02:45hrs, anyway.
This keyboard is getting harder and harder to see with its tiny letters on the keys, and faded off-white ones at that. I’m hoping for the best when the man calls to check the computer out, I think on Tuesday or Wednesday. Mizra made the arrangements for me when we went shopping on Saturday. I loved that, getting out to an actual shop and seeing what I was buying beforehand. I hope not to buy food online anymore. With all the mistakes I keep making, getting help shopping is invaluable now. I hope it continues weekly, please! Hehehe!

Cor blimey, the sun had dipped!
Then the rain came again.

Inchie: Friday12th December 2025:

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Each day brings new challenges: Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, Seizures, Errors, Mistakes, and of course, Failures and Depression.
This has to be coped with, I know this.
It’s possible to accept these daily trials, because I also know there is no way of changing things. Docile-Subserviency is my only defence, well, it’s not even that really. There is no protection, no shield from lousy luck. One option, I suppose, is to go crazy… mind you, I’m on my way there now. 
You could not write a fictional diary with so much bad luck as I suffer diurnally in real life. There’s an element of humour within this tale of woe. I can’t find it yet, thought. But it’s there, maybe conjured from within my watered brain, Dementia Doreen, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, or my previously famed resistance to depression. But of course, I can ask them for guidance, but getting a reply is a bit hopeful. Hehe!
However, silly as it may sound, I think there is a better chance of getting an answer from these ailments than from Social Services. I was going to get help with the wheelchair problems, my computer problems, my financial problems, water on the brain problems and Neurological assessment and treatments… none have arrived yet. Still, I may live long enough for just the odd one to come? Which one would I like it to be? 
Erm… well, perhaps, or not, maybe… anyone would be of help. Chances of getting any? Zilch comes to mind. But, you never know, I might get surprised?
On the other hand, my recent medical history says none, with a loud inner voice. Shame!
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Woke at 04:55hrs. Night bag removed, and into the wetroom for a stand-up body scrum, teggies, a shave, this did not take place, then some medicationalisationing of my inner and outer extremities. Totally, at that time, I got dressed and went into the kitchen to take some shots of the view on offer from the kitchenette window. Again, hoping to take a decent one at least.
The second was better.
Got on the computer, but ran into complications again. From MS Word, CorelDraw and Google. No idea why things were acting up like they were. So many aspects were misfiring. Space bar not working, then came on again. CorelDraw froze. I got a message from MS re: Excel, but could not grasp the technicalities, so closed the window and then all the others and left it for a while before trying to boot again. Went to make a brew, returned and reset the calendar clock, and gingerly, but hopefully, turned the computer on. Nothing happened? The lights were lit? I meandered back to the kitchen in the full grip of .
I took this snap of the slowly lightening sky. It was not a bad one this time. Compared to what my one eye saw and how the picture turned out. To say I was feeling so low and in a fair degree of depression, I noted this. I reckon I was convinced the computer had thrown in the towel, angry at all the failed promises of help that never arrived, and had resigned myself to it. Back to the computer and turned it on. This time, noticing the external drive thingamajig was flashing away at a fair pace. Took a snap of it, I’ve not got the foggiest idea why. The computer booted up, and the working light continued. I think it might be MS Excel and Word updating something? I waited 30 minutes for the flashing to stop, then opened Google and CorelDRAW. Ah, that’s better, things seem to be working correctly, well, as near to properly as one can expect from bug-ridden, overcharging CorelDraw. My attention was interrupted by a text message on my mobile phone. Ah, hopefully that will be the night catheters ordered by my Carer last Wednesday. (It was).
I was tickled pink when the computer came on again and had a visit from . Which proved enjoyable and rid me of worry. But also this rare but welcome ‘Sod-Em-All’ sensation that comes with Horis’s attendance, caused me to wander off the plot, and I spent over three hours plus, working on the much missed ‘lost-but-no-idea-how’ word-list recreating.
Was I bothered at the time? Nope! I regretted it in the morning when I realised I had done absolutely nothing on this blog and had to start from scratch. Yet I thought I had made a start? I suppose I can blame .

Then, I had the longest-ever seizure that I can remember. I estimate that it was for three hours, and the day had gone! The Carer was ringing as I was recovering from the effects of the visit into the unknown. My part-drunk mug of tea was stone cold, my body half hanging out of the chair; I reckon I was lucky not to fall off it. Yet the after effects, compared to a mini-seizure, were piffle; I was back near normal, within seconds, and the acrid taste coming up from the innards was barely noticeable. 
Carer gave me my medications, rubbed some pain gel in the right knee and was off, bless him.

The District Nurse arrived. I’m always glad when this happens. She’d come to check on my right leg and but
saw the state of my left arm, and proceeded in a no-nonsense manner to pick out the dried blood and lymph blobules, clean it and put a plaster on. Telling me (with a smile), she had not come to do this, just your leg. Then she moved onto the leg; whipped off the diabetic strapping, pulled down the under-sock, and removed the blood-soaked plaster, cleaned it and put a new plaster over it. I thanked her and off she went on her rounds. I bade her farewell.
This is when abandoned me, and . And stayed for the rest of the night.

This Is Spunk
A New Mexico resident who dwells with a large clowder of cats. Don’t let the cute expression fool you. He is the leader of the group and his paperatzzi owner, Tim. No doubting it, he’s a handsome one. Although please don’t tell other furries that I said so. Hehe! 😹🤎

I overcooked my oven chips a little (a little? Hehehe!)
That was after going through the whole packet of chips, especially selecting the small ones that would cook faster, as hunger was starting to get the best of me. I knew I’d just got to run a sweep of the computer with CCleaner and thought they would be nearly ready by the time I finished, about 12 minutes.
But no, of course not.
Had me deciding to do a few minutes of the word-listings. pillock Eventually, an hour later, the door chime chimed, and I smelt the burning!
I took the tray of, shall we say, singed chips out and photographed it. The Carer didn’t notice the smell, which amazed me. Medications were issued.
Then I made up a meal of crisps and opened a can of pork hock. It had a ring pull, which I pulled. The result was a cut finger, well, a cut thumb. I got a packet of Cheesy Curls, some cheese, and put the meat on a tray.
I missed the chips naturally, but was pleased that the makeshift meal tasted good.

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TTFN

Inchie Today: Saturday 22nd November 2025

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I was sat-sitting in my broken recliner chair, Ftrali
And the community nurse did appear,
Took off the leg straps, checked Lymphoreoa Leslie, 
Left leg fine, right leg was a little bloody,
The right leg was medicated with cream & a plaster,
Replace socks & straps, easy for her to master,
I like this retired nurse, the twinkling of her eyes…
A no-fuss gal, who seems very wise,
My adoration, I could not disguise,
Of course, I only imagined her thighs…
Or she’d laugh at my miniature size,
It would only end sadly with sighs,
Naturally, I could only apotheosise,
All I could do was to eulogise,
Whenever she calls, she beautifies…
Even though my pulse may rise,
With my disabilities, there’s no compromise,
Why I feel this way, I need to analyse,
At my age, this urge to harmonise…
With nothing below to energise,
I feel as if I should apologise,
My body can no longer mutually synchronise,
If I say I accept this, it would all be lies,
All I can do nowadays is to fantasise,
Been waiting to be trephinated for 102 days,
Glaucoma operation, I’ve lost count of the days!
Silence from the neurologist diagnosing my seizures,
Broken knee, catheter, hearing problems, arthritis,
Lymphorrhoea, colour-blind, and duodenal ulcers,
My left wrist, hand, and fingers had five fractures,
Tried veganism, vegetarianism, cereals and pulses,
A Labour Government, full of fakesters,
Begging for help, but getting no answers,
In the hospital, I had several unfulfilled promises,
From Neurology, Cardiac, & Social Services,
A surgeon will need good eyesight to circumcise
There were threats made against the nurses,
From a bloke face-to-face, emitting curses…
I was stick-walking with the physiotherapists,
I got involved when the man clenched his fist,
Told him, ‘Do that again, you’ll get my fist’,
He went quiet. I think he got my drift,
The nurse thanked me for my intrusion,
That patient is suffering ego-depletion,
Is this ward for those with damaged grey matter?
Anyway, the man gave the nurses no more bother,
Getting back from the hospital last month? Dystopian!
I’d been to see my  neuropathy diagnostician,
I got lost trying to get to the tram,
Had to ask some “Where am I?’,
How to get to the tram station?,
I got there after some extravasation,
The ticket machine brought confusion into the equation,
Passengers were squashed in the tram so tightly…
Just getting into it was a Hell of a fight…
Will I ever get home tonight?
Then I suffered a heck of a fright!
The tram moved of and I took a tumble,
Help from others made me feel humble,
Two passengers helped me up without exhortation,
They caught me mid-fall, avoiding emasculation,
A lady gave me her seat without vacillation,
In the City Centre, yobboes were the danger,
Schoolkid gangs, I had to walk on tramlines, however…
I struggle up to the bus top, with great endeavour,
Checked the 40 bus times, none, only 40x?
This one did not call into the flats, oh boyee!
Dark outside, lit-up inside, I couldn’t see,
Which bus stop was the one for me?
Ended up in Sherwood, nine stops away,
Had to walk back up Windcheste Street, steep and hilly,
Help by using my four-wheeled walker trolley,
Many stops, as I went breathlessly…
Getting a cellphone call, and silly me…
Dropped in in the darkness, dearie me!
Got home to find Elaz waiting, worried!
Carer Ejaz by name, and Carer in reality!
I suppose I should mention my banality?
Dullness, unoriginality or predictability…
No, not predictability, that would be silly…
Certainly not descriptive of Inchie,
Seizure, tumbles, &, ailments with unpredictability,
Why can humankind not live with congruency?
A question of imbecility, verging on stupidity,
Each incident, occurrence, and contingency,
Can pop up suddenly, unexpectedly…
No one can be completely accident-free,
Politicians used to act collectivistically,
Is the coming Apocalypse be cataclysmically?
Societal collapse, to humankind, devastatingly?
I don’t view it as a catastrophe,
Politicians becoming deific…
They really do make me feel sick,
See the end, as being welcome and terrific!,
It’ll come soon, but I can’t be specific.
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Sorry, but it’ll be short and sweet. Time is thy enemy.
Well, he is mine. Hehehe!

Morning shot from the kitchen

No visit to the Porcelain Throne until late evening. But I felt it brewing up in the afternoon.
Tiny escapages that stunk awful, putrid!
I’m expecting a Trotsky Terence affair later.

Carer Ejaz did the first two calls. Body checks, Phorpain gelling, Barrier creaming tended to.

Midday Darkness?

Oh, I nearly missed this one.
The end of the car park.
🎵Where have all the pappaps gone?🎵

NOSH
Faggots in gravy, & mashed potatoes.
I peeled & cooked a beetroot, then chopped it, added some of the gorgeous Krakus red beetroot, concentrated borstch, and some pork gravy, mixed it all up, and cooked it in the microwave for 6 minutes.
I’ve redeveloped a fancy for faggots lately. The Parsley Box ready meals have great tasting gaggots… no, I meant faggots, not maggots… I made a grammatical mess of typing that! I thought I’d just leave it in. Sad! Hehe!

Soaked up the tasty liquid with two large cheesy-topped bread rolls, Mmm!

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“Hasta luego, cocodrilo”
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Inchie: Sunday 31st August 2025

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I’m worried about the Grim Reaper,
Not visited in August, now it’s September!
Has something changed his agender?
Last we met, he spoke of a nymph named Rusalka,
A female creature who seeks souls not after…
death, but before, & ferry them to Purgatory,
Each is an illegal immigrant soul-gatherer,
They come in dreams, offering virgins for a fiver,
The Virgin Goddess of the Hunt, Dziewona,
I’ve missed my designated soul-collector,
He was straight-talking, no verbal garniture,
For my last day, he promised me fresh golonkowa…
With sourdough bread & pickled cucumber,
I thought a moment ago that I could smell vinegar,
He said he’d get me in a cell with souls of kvetchers,
He guaranteed to keep me safe from Herr Starmer,
And his lies, bullying and moratoria…
I couldn’t have asked for better…
Me, a mentally-challenged failed rhymester,
When I die, decease, perish, & meet St Peter,
I leave this mortal coil, led by my Grim Reaper,
He will try to become my permanent Carer,
It’s love, I think, though it sounds macabre,
Gawd, I hope he wasn’t a leg-puller!
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She was still shaking when I stirred at 06:15 hours. (Another late one). That might teach me not to shoulder-charge the wetroom door frame… at least, not so often. I had to laugh at myself when I reached down to retrieve the nocturnal catheter bag for emptying – it showed I was still on edge from yesterday’s mishaps. I used my left hand to hold the shoulder in case she had loosened the joint with her overnight rattling and shudderings. Haha! Now, a laugh upon waking may be a sign that things will go better today. Mind you, look what happened to Hitler when he attacked Russia.

Very few photos and news on the blog today. I must try to at least complete yesterday’s blog. If I have the time, I need to complete the 30 templates for September. I know, not a cat-in-hells chance. But I must at least try.
Oh, no, just remembered I can use Jetpack, like I did last month. I did it in half the usual time. Now, if only I could remember how I did it. Never mind, there are still unknown challenges to come. Do I sound a smidgeon pessimistic? 
First kitchenette shot

Evacuation Conrad Constipation Controlled.

Carer Nimra. Body Check. 
Some new blood-filled swelling was spotted.
They were not painful, but Nimta called the Community Nurses. They will send someone to inspect the area. Later decided Monday, not today. This will be no problem.

Amazingly, I completed the templates in record time, despite dealing with numbers.

Morning snap

Seizures are getting frequent. I spent ages in repeated recovery times, doing nothing.

Afternoon…
cloud…
photos.

Hours & hours doing blogs.

TTFN

Inchy: Wed 30 July 25 – DDDDD all day, then a late visit from High-Mood-Horis

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The lost photos from yesterday.

You can hardly see the part-moon in the sky!

For most of the day. Then, late on, visited.

Oh, dear, I’m wearing black diabetic socks & slippers.

Took a shot of the end car park, no mudslide.

Porcelain Throne visited.

Returned to the computer and noticed it had been raining. A mudslide had started in the end car park.
The rain stopped. It only lasted for ten minutes.

Into the kitchenette to refill the bladder water bottle.
No rain, but the earlier bit we had was clinging to the glass of the window.
Opened the window to take this one.

I’ve got some peas, onions, and sweetcorn in the slow cooker, ready for later.
Made a brew of Glengettie. Then cut up some potatoes to bake to add to the meal. Not a single cut finger. Got them in the oven

Blue skies and grey clouds.

The front car park on Citrus Walk.

The Food Fiasco…
I served up the nosh on a tray. Bread and the last pot of vegetarian lemon yoghourt, bread and some mini tomatoes on the tray with the seasoned stew of sorts. Casserole? Soup? I’d put some liquid smoke in the mix. But when I got down with my meal on the tray, I sat in front of the TV on the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966. Moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, much dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working, tormenting Harold’s Haemorroids, recliner. Put the TV on to watch a recorded Heartbeat episode.
I got deep into the programme and was consuming the stew, or whatever it’s called.
I’d got through about half of what was in the dish, and just as I remembered, I had not put the potatoes in from the oven, I got the smell of burning up my nose.
A semi-panic mode gripped me, and I put down the food tray to rush into the kitchen… Luckily, what happened next was as I stood up…
Gave way on me, and my knee greeted the carpet and forced me into using swearwords and curses. My mind was then concentrated on getting myself up again.
Which, using the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner, I hauled myself up into it…
Unfortunately, I caught the chair with the food on it and spilt the dish all over the tray.
I carefully got back on my feet, and now my concentration was on getting the tray cleaned up before the grey spilt through the holes at the end of the tray, out onto the floor.
This, I did. Using kitchen towels, I cleaned around, and then smelled the burning from the oven, and remembered why I was getting up in the first place.
I got the oven door open, expecting the worst, and the sliced roasted spuds were… well, cooked to perfection, just as I like them.
I added them to the dish on the tray… .
I caught my hand on the oven tray while taking it out.
By the time I’d cleaned that tray and ointmentated the burn. Then, I returned to the TV room with the added potatoes.
I rewound the Heartbeat episode to catch up on what I’d missed, and started eating. I’d made too many potatoes and had virtually started eating another meal. I couldn’t manage it all, but ate all of the potatoes. For some reason… , visited, and this was unexpected but great!
Even when the next calamity took place while washing the pots in the kitchen, I handled it in true High-Mode-Horis fashion, “Sod-it, Sode em all”!
Compared to the earlier responses to the mishaps, I just accepted things as being expected and anticipated. Part of my everyday life nowadays. Gawd, if only  it could be conjured up when something happens untoward and I get visits from ? I dream, of course, but in a state where anything seems possible. Can he be conjured?
lost the plot again there…
Ah, yes, the ! I dropped the dish into the water in the washing-up bowl, and a few drops splashed out onto the floor.
It set the Flood Alert Alarm off!

Ejaz did a decent job today. He did the laundry, helped me clean the oven, took the waste bags to the shoot, and mopped the kitchen. Unfortunately, he used the speed mop, which left the floor sticky.
He put the night diabetic shocks on for me.
Did a full-body check on me. Reminded me about the Fire Alarm inspection tomorrow. 

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
HMG has Coercion. But lacks Cohesion
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Inchy Today: Monday 28th July 2025

/ Inchie / 14 Comments

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Firstly…
My walks through the tree copse, daily,
I recall my visits with some accuracy,
But as more ailments and diseases came to me,
Visiting became a physical impossibility,
Due to Glaucoma-Gladys, and a new disability,
Arthur Itis, seizures and Lymphorrhoea Leslie,
Unguis incarnates, Paroxysmal Dyskinesias,
Both Cartilages & Peripheral Neuropathies,
Duodenal Donald… each one an ancillary,
New medications that work antiapoptotically,
Nurses visit me, kind and benevolently…
Warfarin Nurse, checking my DVT,
Takes blood regularly. She does this superbly,
I so miss going in the copse, I spoke to every tree!
Next Missing Ode, Grizelda & our contiguity!.
Our affair went magnificently…
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A better Morning! Great!
Up and out of the hospital bed at 05:35hrs.

Again, the nocturnal catheter pouch was
almost empty. As yesterday, once I got up and started moving about, I could feel the flow back in the bladder, and it was painful. Within a couple of minutes of taking off the night bag, the day bag began to flood. The colour was a number six grade on the NHS score chart.

I made up some cool bottles of spring water from the fridge, replaced them with others to chill, and got on with updating the blog. It went well, and I completed it and posted it to WordPress.

I pottered into the kitchen to snap a picture of the sky. Low down first.
Then higher.

My daytime catheter had still not been changed. I was on the Porcelain Throne (Constipation Conrad affair) when Ejaz arrived, and I remembered to ask him to do so. Which he did for me. Unfortunately, we had a long-tubed one and had fitted it before realising. So the lad had to search for a short-tubed one, remove the long tube, and fit the short tube in its place. Bless him.

Nice and comfortable fit, Ejaz did. The rear end wasn’t, though; that was stinging something awful. Ejaz managed to clean and medicate the insertion area. He left some of the items on the £300 second-hand shop purchase, circa 1966. Moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, much dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner. But no bother, he’s had to do the catheter twice, and was running late. 

I dug into setting up the template and began working with this editor. I was making fewer errors than I had lately. And I .

I got the kitchenette mopped up.

Back on the blogging session. I was now making the regular cock-ups. Humph!

The Intercom chimed out. It was a Red Cross Technician. He’d come to check the workings of the hospital bed. I thought he was checking the wheelchair, which had a loose arm. He only does beds, he said. However, he still set out to examine the wheelchair problem for me. Six holding pins on the arm were missing. Luckily, he had some with him for repairing the bed that fitted the wheelchair arm. He mended it for me. I’m being looked after today. This chap followed Carer Ejaz in spending more time correcting things for Inchie. 🤎 

He then checked the hospital bed over. All okay!

Back to the blogging, it needed some tweaking and fixing. Tsk!

The Intercom Rang Again: It turned out to be a lovely District Nurse. She had come to check on both & refit the bothersome,
.
What a fantastic Community Nurse. (It was love at first sight!) Patient, understanding, and so gentle with my genitals. She started by sorting out the things underneath the Carer’s table. But we could not find any of the painkiller tubes. She looked into the backroom… and ended up sorting it out for me! The medical stuff, I mean. She thought she might have a tube in her car. The nurse asked me for the door fob, then went down and returned with a tube of gel. How kind was that? Very! The first job was the big one, the removal of the current contraption. She worked carefully; there was no rushing, unlike others. She even suggested putting it back on the other leg. Which, after inserting the new tube into Little Inchy, and with the least pain I’ve ever had in the last three years of being catheterised! Smoothly, and as I’ve said, less painfully.

She then inspected my rear-end. She was concerned and asked me if she could take a photo of it. I agreed, and she took a snap on her mobile.
They told me to wash and dry things twice a day and to apply barrier cream, well rubbed in.
The nurse showed me the photo, which startled me a smidgeon. Chrikey, it was red! 
Then informed me that Little Inchy had a new lesion at the tip. She thinks it may have been caused by not frequently moving the catheter to the other leg. It is essential to do this, as the pressure exerted by the tubing pulling on one area is likely to cause injury. The nurse had already placed the new contraption on my right leg.
What a gift, what an Angel! 🤎FsocjF

To the kitchen to get something to eat.



Back on the computer… but unfortunately, the usual 17:00 weariness & tiredness set in, without any fading down period, instantly at 15:00. And,
Leaving me no option but to close down the computer. As I got up to make a bite to eat before I fell asleep, more bother; something I have not had a lot of bother with for months now. In both knees, and
gave way, all but having me over. I thought that DDDDD coming on was due to my silly excitement at the visits of , Why the knees and Cartilage misery? I now receive complaints from the joints, and I did for the rest of the night. They never fail to hurt or threaten to give way when I partly bend or put weight on them.

Washed the pots, sagety checks and down in the aged, grotty-looking, c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner.
I sat pondering on the day’s opposing events. More good than bad, I think. Up to now. But memories of the bad I’m used to. I was in mid-ponder, as I drifted off to sleep. I fell into a deep sleep, but it didn’t last for long.

The Intercom chimed up an hour and a half later. I struggled to wake up, and the pain in my knees made it difficult to reach the intercom panel. I  knew it was Carer Ejaz, and as I lifted my hand to press the entry button, gave way, and I needed both hands on the hallway wall to prevent myself from falling. I must have pressed the wrong button in my rush, and the Intercom closed down. I waited for Ejaz to push again. But he didn’t. However, he came in the door a few minutes later, asking me why I didn’t open the door for him.
I tried mt best to explain to him, but I’m not sure he understood me. So I told him about the morning’s Red Cross volunteer and how he had helped me out. Then the story of the District Nurse was a great help, with the Catheter Contraption all done calmly, not rushing, and far less painful than it had ever been done. She also told me I must start using the diabetic socks during the day again. My not doing so will not help with the leg problems.
She also said that she’d try to get the catheter pouch nets supplied for me.
I’m not sure how much he understood, though. I was struggling to start by telling him that the Red Cross man had repaired the wheelchair arm. I had to take him to the balcony and show him the arm of the wheelchair and the missing bolts that he replaced for me. A kind man. I felt he was unhappy with me for not letting him in.
He’s a good lad, and I think he deserves praise for the things he does do, not lambasting for the things he forgets. I’d be lost without Ejaz. As I am without Carer Joe, so knowledgeable & helpful. But gone now. I phoned him up last week. He’s happy in his new job and enjoying it. He’ll try his best to call and see me when he visits his Dad.

Once again, back on the computer.

Three snaps of the kitchen sky view.

On Ejaz’s last call, bless him, he showed that he was listening to what I said earlier. He cleaned, dried, and applied barrier cream to my rear end. He also did a body check, and I appreciated it. Yes, I flipping well did!
He took a photo of the closed window in the balcony with his mobile phone and emailed it to me.

I love a brown sunset. We found the thinnest pair of Diabetic socks I had, and I left them ready to see in the morning so I don’t forget. Ejaz checked the kitchen and wet room for safety before leaving. As the nurse said, it may seem cooler not to wear the socks, but these legs prove that you will have to. When winter comes, you’ll feel happy to wear them. She was right! Kind, too!

I did some late work on the blog, and then popped into the kitchenette to catch the sunset before it disappeared. A better effort with Kodak Tim 2.
Lucky to catch this shot!

I nearlt forgot the snap of the small, but lovely meal. The brown tomatoes and the
chip-shop chips tasted just heavenly!

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TTFN’ski, Each!
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Inchy Today: Saturday 19th July 2025

/ Inchie / 5 Comments

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Exam results in school, most at the bottom of the list,
In English, I came out top; I tried to be an odeist,
Wrote short stories, subjects ranging from history to a ghost,
By goodbyes were usually Tara, so I’m no linguist,
I often got beat up, they used sticks, boots & fists,
To survive, I had to use guile and feignest,
I didn’t realise it then, but I was a hippophagist,
I didn’t know the name then, but I was an immanentist,
Which made me brave when I went to the dentist,
Over four years, it was my only visit,
Dad pulled my teeth, using his pliers…
Each time, the pain was beyond bounteousness,
If I cried, Dad would get all blasphemous,
He sent me to the gym, amidst the bodybuilders,
Said I should be more sporty, less academical,
I’ve to learn how to box, be pugalistical,
Even then, I found that ironically comical,
The Sportsmaster trained 9-stone Nathaniel,
4-stone soaking wet me? The caretaker, Nigel,
In the first round, I was virtually unhittable!
Mind you, I never managed to hit Nathaniel,
In the second round, punches were exchangeable,
The third round started. Oh, hell!
He caught me with five, and I hit him once; it was painful!
I woke up in the shower,
His punch had too much power…
So shamed, I went home to cower…
The coppers were searching for Mother…
My losing the match didn’t seem to matter…
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A shortie again. The difficulties seem to come at me non-stop, even at weekends.
The plaster on the leg has just been replaced for the fifth time, and I can’t find any more plasters.
I’ll start with the photos I snapped after getting up and nearly falling out of the flipping bed.

The fourth Lymphorrhoea Leslie bloodied plaster, with the tape that I had to use for the third time, cause I can’t find where I put the tape either.

Another mystery this morning.

The left wrist wound was looking likely to improve.
Carer Ejaz titivated it a bit later.

I received a phone call on the landline. The Neurology Surgeon’s assistant apologised for not calling yesterday. I also received a text message. She will be phoning on Monday and will email the questionnaire for me to fill in. Or was this yesterday? I sense I’ve written this before.
This Premorbid Cognitive Impairment that they have rediagnosed for me is worse than what they said before, Dementia Doreen was. I swear!

As for next week’s events;
As the Carer is unavailable on Wednesday due to accompanying me to the dentist, no laundry can be done, and the kitchen & wetroom cannot be cleaned and mopped. And no help with the finances or Emails can be had. Bearing in mind that Monday & Tuesday will be busier and more hectic than ever, I won’t be in any condition to go to the dentist on Wednesday…
I’m a smidge nervous for next week.
Poor silly-old-sausage!
I’ve just ordered some sausages to arrive next week… Guess what day the cheaper delivery day is? Yes, Wednesday evening!
I hope that I can get the blog done, but anticipate that I’ll have to give up for a few days. I’ll never catch up again, anyway.
Worra Life!
Still, I must not complain; many are worse off than I am, who have things more severe than I do.
I apologise for moaning. Bless you all.

Early snap taken of the early morning view, with  Kodak Tim 2.

Oh, by the way, I had a repeat of the below four times this Saturday.

I’m still hoping… 
Lots of unexpected, no-warning
blasts from the rear-end. Hehehe!

The front junk room, which will only get worse next week without the Carers’ help, depressed me.

Another mystery photo I found on
the SD card. It might be a badly
taken shot of the bed. But why?

The mudslide is coming on again.

I got the chips out ready for later.

Carer Aheo did the second short call.
Carer Mizra called for the third medication. The lad put a new plaster on the leg injury. He also found the medical tape and wrapped some around the plaster. Thanks, Mirza!

I’m off to make a meal now.
Try to get it eaten before the Carer arrives.
It might be Carer Ejaz.

More to follow… Not a lot…

Inchy Today: Thursday 17th July 2025

/ Inchie / 13 Comments

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Ode to Inchies life-coping…
A dream that is just not happening!
Although he can’t cope, he’s enduring,
But not at the stage of managing,
Struggling, suffering and wrestling…
To be honest, he’s only just surviving,
Inchie overslept again this morning,
Carer Ejaz woke him, with the doorbell ringing,
Got too quickly out of bed, his catheter bag dangling,
Confused, to the door, self-cavilling…
Things happening, memories dissolving…
With his own brain, he was tangling and tussling,
Ejaz: Get back to bed and stop worrying…
Inchies’ wounded hand & leg ointmenting,
He recalls the medication issuing,
Short seizures came, and are still coming…
Following each one, Inchy was worrying,
His actions and mind were disagreeing,
This was not in the least bit assuring,
Then, he left the hot faucet/tap running,
Water was stone cold, so no ablutioning,
Until the water heats up this evening,
It brought to mind more than one other thing,
Several, each liable to be angst-giving,
If things don’t happen, or need adjusting,
A District Nurse should be visiting…
To check the Lymphorroea leg that’s leaking,
Ejaz rang the Dentist about internet form filling,
Got a password to use, some questions were baffling,
He rang again, for clarificationing…
“Come early, before the dentist’s extractions and filling”,
Thanks to Carer Ejaz today, he was very caring!,
A food order came that Amazon were delivering,
Inchy cheered up later, High Mode Horis popped in,
And very welcome he was, Spiffing!
Anne Gyna, much later, came visiting…
A short call, but not nasty or overbearing,
So, compared to earlier, he may not yet be coping…
But he’s certainly feeling better & hoping,
For a miracle, things to go right, he’s praying,
Intent on not doing any more oversleeping,
It’s not alcohol, so he’ll soon be drinking…
Hoping a nurse will call to do the medicating,
Things certainly look better, less depressing,
Temporarily gone are his days of moaning,
Also, I hope his habit of tumbling and falling,
Believe it or not, he’s currently singing,
Despite no hot water yet for his ablutioning,
He’ll stay dirty and smelly, in revulsion!
Can’t feel guilty, he’s not got the compunction,
But, for life-coping, has he got the gumption?
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Morning starts with the memory notes.
Plenty of blanks.

A gentle mist lingers.
Possible thunder, they say.

Food Delivery
No cheesey-topped bread rolls.
So I got a Hovis farmhouse batch.
Yellow mini tomatoes and
Juicy Gammom Ham.
Fridge filled again.
Aha, my favourites, pod peas.
I shelled half of them and got the beer-battered
Chips are all ready to go in the oven.

THE FEAST!

Still misty.

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BEST OF LUCK!
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Inchy Today: Sunday 6th July 2025

/ Inchie / 14 Comments

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TO HIS SERIES OF DREAMS LAST NIGHT
I hiked there in my warped realisation.
The result of a moment’s aberration,
Off for an afternoon spent riparian,
I enjoyed this on Bristol’s River Avon,
Ah, the peace, no altercation…
I saw my first coprophagan…
Missing the cow turds, with attention,
No visits from Agathodaemon…
I felt totally free of depression,
A gentle breeze, the sun my guerdon,
On the river, flotsam & hymenopteran,
So peaceful, no thoughts bacchanalian,
My mind wandered off on its own volition…
Viewing the world without condemnation,
I fell asleep, & found perfection…
Suddenly, no hatred, wars, crimes or derision!
Harmony, with Angels, each a protecting guardian,
All around me, people dressed Edwardian,
Azaleas, looking up at me, showing their apotropaism,
No scent of fear, or need of apogeotropism,
Then, I feared for this imaginary kingdom,
Knowing what lies ahead, I had the wisdom…
A man filling his pipe, his girlfriend paying attention,
Would she lose him in a war, perhaps the Crimean?
Senghenydd explosion, 439 men died while mining,
I woke up to find I had a problem,
A water-filled, leaking Wellington!
Maybe a seizure, I thought, after an interregnum,
This was all beyond my comprehension,
Yet the day felt real, in fact, so idyllian,
I even managed a little self-irrision,
I felt joyful, blithe, with exhilaration…
But riddled with suspicion…
Was today all but an illusion?
I’ll have to give this some consideration!
I certainly felt a strange abnormalisation…
I got there & back without transportation?
I searched but found no medication,
Ah… I’m at a different location!
Brookfield Place, under Arkwright St station,
All gone now, not in my memory & imagination,
It smells the same, soot & smoke from the train station,
The rag & bone man, horse & cart creating a ruction,
We try to get an increase in price, but get a reduction,
I saw myself poor & undesirable, a bezonian…
This dream is like a circumbilivagination,
The stable, the wood yard, folks in contradiction,
What I see may well be a conceptualisation…
But to me, it was a reassuring actualisation,
The smell of boiling bones for the gruel,
Not that I ever thought this was cruel,
Survival meant we had to be adaptable,
Cow heel, rabbit; if one were catchable,
Mother found cigarettes to be ascertainable,
Usually scrounged, stolen or pocketable,
As a small lad, others found me punchable,
Despite this, I remained compliable,
Although the neighbourhood was a little tribal,
Everyone had a go at me, it seemed logical,
I thought this was to be expected and normal,
I’ve always been easy to clobber & bumfuzzle,
Never knew why, but Mother called me her barnacle,
They pulled the old Meadows down… terrible!
It’d be a treasure to anyone archaeological!
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0535hrs: I think I woke just after having a seizure of some kind or other. Because I was so confused and wobbly on my feet when I dismounted the bed to sort out the nocturnal catheter. I felt the need for the Porcelain Throne brewing up in my innards.

Dizzy Dennis joined in the sensations as I slowly hobbled, with a degree of balancing difficulty, to the Porcelain Throne. It proved to be a messy and extremely long affair. The time spent cleaning up the limbs, bottom, and porcelain was worse because I kept getting dizzy each time I bent down. 
Another mystery from Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, & spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Dank Depressing Darius, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhoea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, or the Fata Morgana, hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, Whoopsiedangleplops 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.

But as I hobbled back to the kitchen, I realised it was as if someone had corrected my balance, and the Dizzy Dennis had gone off into the ether?

As I thought about this gift, with her stabbing pains started in the neck this time. And spent three hours touring around my torso. Under the left arm, right chest, centre chest, back to the neck, almost up to the chin, right chest… etc.
When she suddenly stopped, I wasn’t surprised; she must have worn herself out. Hehehe!

I poddled out onto the balcony to take a couple of shots of the view in the rain, through the windows, of course.
I had to take a shot from the end of the balcony as the innards were gurgling and rumbling again. Once again, was in control. At least it wasn’t as messy as the first. But it was extremely gooey! Smelly-Phoo, too!

Back to the balcony to take a window end shot.
Although I am not very often pleased or confident about anything I do nowadays, this one I was happy with.
. Hehe!

Carer Ejaz rang the intercom. I fumbled my way to the box, pressed ‘receive,’ and the panel showed Ejaz on his phone. I then pressed the release button on the door. The intercom chimes started again, and the inner lobby door had not opened! I tried again, but no success. (No success? Could that go on my plaque at the crematorium? – Or, as someone suggested last year, would this be better: “He came, He failed, He Went?”  Got carried away again there. Sorry. So, I’d got my dressing gown on from when I went out onto the balcony to take the fantastic, wonderful, magnificent photo above left. Haha! So I went down to admit Ejaz.
How long will this visit last? I’m absolutely loving this mood! 👍🏾

Ejaz was wet from the rain, poor lad. He got the prescription medications sorted for me and reminded me to take the B12 supplement. No Peptac or Cetraben is needed. As Anne Gyna was on a break, the legs, ankles, and feet that had been fed to bursting point over the last three weeks are looking great, super-duper! Yee-Haa!

I made a determined effort to complete yesterday’s blog. Although, was, for some reason going blurring my sight, almost as bad as she does when I look at the sunshine.

A couple of hours later, the intercom rang again. It was the Iceland order arriving. I tried to tell him the door might not work and that I’d be down to open the lobby door manually for him. I’m not sure if he heard me, as the screen dies within a few seconds. So, I got dressed again, and as I was leaving to go down, the driver arrived. He put them in the kitchenette for me.
The first thing I noticed was the big bag of toilet paper. They were a bit more expensive than my usual ones, but it was the sale price, and it stated they were triple-ply. So, with getting frisky with me, I thought it best.
What a Mistaka to Maker!
👎🏼Just look at the size of this sheet that I photographed! Pathetic!
I swear that it will take a third of a roll to wipe my bottie after a evacuation!
As I photographed a selection to go into the fridge, I noticed that Iceland Foods had done it again. 👎🏼The steak slice had a must-be-used-by date of Today!
👎🏼And, disappointment number three from Iceland Foods, the baby potatoes. I had to throw away six of them. (see the photo on the right). They were either split or had black spots near the surface; some had both! 👎🏼When I opened a pack of the shortcake biscuits, they had been ready-pre-crushed for me. The company’s new slogan is Google tells me:
👎🏼“That’s why we go to Iceland” Huh!👎🏼
Free delivery, though, as long as you spend £40.
No mention of the fee for picking, packing and carrier bags. But one has to be fair. Asda often pre-crushes your bread to make it easier to digest; their dates are dodgy, too.
Even J Sainsbury sent Royal Farms Grown Anya potatoes last week with black spots, and they were to be used by the same day as the delivery. And cheesy cobs. But with Trump, Putin, Xi Jinping, and Sparkling Toolmaker’s Son Starmer doing their best to prompt World War Three, does this really matter enough to bother about? Maybe not!

A Little Quiz: There was an item in one of the photos that Carer Mizra pointed out had ingredients. Here they are; see if you can find out which product it was from them. Ingredients: Beef (1800P08 per 1g) of beef xxxxxxx. Seasoning: dextrose, caster sugar, salt, onion powder, yeast extract, tomato powder, garlic powder, smoked paprika, caramelised sugar. Natural flavouring: Citric acid, smoked maltodextrin, oregano, liquorice powder, paprika extract, salt, vinegar, potassium sorbate. The seven X’s replace the name of the product. The first comment winner will receive a Certificate Of Merit on the blog.

Carer Mizra arrived, also rather damp-looking.
He took a minute or two to examine the new mobile, trying to figure out how to change the ringtone and make it louder. No luck, but he tried. Thanks, Mizra. Ejaz tried without any luck the other day. I don’t think the option is on the phone at all. They both comprehend the workings of new phones. I think this one has no choice.

I persevered with this blog. And I got some of the photos uploaded and into the WordPress gallery… this is when, to the best of my knowledge, the first seizure occurred. This was a decent, lengthy one, nothing like the five-hour one I had earlier in the week, but again, I was all over the place mentally and physically when I emerged from it. It was replaced by confusion . 
I found that while in the seizure, I’d been working on the blog. I made a right mess of it, which took me ages to get right again.
It took me half an hour of just sitting here feeling sorry for myself, especially after the longest-ever unbroken visit from .

All the effects were lessening when Carer Mizra returned. During the time he was here, clarity returned, along with something that amazed me, but it was back in my head again. No rhyme or reason. Nothing had changed, apart from Carer Mizra calling and the head and dizzying clearing. Yet, I’m in a Sod-Them all mode again. Unbothered, unworried? How I wish I could summon Horis up when I need him! 🤸🏻‍♀️

Back on the balcony.
The rain had stopped. I got a decent shot of the famous end of the car park’s mudflow.

Then, the amazingly dull but still gorgeous sky. Then I’m afraid that things have changed slightly for the worse!
A dual attack coordinated by and hit me; this was not good.

The last Carer call was with Mizra. When he was here, joined in. Mizra had never seen (or heard) Roger in action before.
He seemed genuinely worried, asking if he should call an ambulance. No sooner had he gone than the rain came again. I took a snapshot of it from the closed kitchen window.

Back to the blogging. Thinking and praying for the return of . No luck! 

I continued with this lengthy blog. Suddenly, I realised it was 05:00hrs! No wonder I was feeling done in. I had no energy for food preparation, so I saved the things and closed the computer.

It took all the energy I had left just to climb into bed. For the first time ever, I ignored the panic-thoughts of Did I lock the door. Are the taps turned off, etc? I was not feeling too well and was too tired to be bothered. Well, that was a first!
Luckily, nothing was found amiss in the morning.

Apart from the fact that I was so far out of it.

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TTFNski.
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