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04:10hrs: I stirred back into this beautiful, energetic, passionate, loveable, happiness-enriched, appreciated, happy wakefulness of life. 
Â
However, there was a minor miracle, I have to say. Although the usual pains from both cartilages were soon rampant, now here this… there was no titter-od-a-pain from Little Inchy’s Fungal Lesion or even Little Inchy! Fantastic! Oh, also, up to now, 17:15hrs, not a single shock from the 
!
I hobbled to the wet room to empty the nocturnal catheter pouch in the WC. It was not a good colour again this morning, and my blood pressure was too 
high. I decided as it was early, to get the ablutions and medicationalisationings done after tackling the evacuation.Â
Trotsky Terence was yet again on form.
More watery evacuations, like I don’t think I’ve ever suffered before. I guess those 
sausages don’t fit well with my innards?
By the time I’d stripped, a matter of maybe five minutes later. I was back seated on the Throne again.Â
Did the teggies, cleared the nose, and got the shaving tackle ready for service.
I started shaving, and things seemed to be going pretty well. Then, I had a sudden 
And at almost the same time, who gave way but, 
.
I suppose it might have been called lucky, as I fell onto the sink. It was all over in a few seconds; although I was wobbling and hit my head on the tap, I didn’t hit the deck for once.
I sat on the 
for a few minutes to recover.
This was when the blood flowed onto my face, cheeks and chin from my head. I’d got Kodak Tim in the dressing gown pocket from taking the pouch snap earlier to try some selfies of the wound. As fast as I cleared the blood, it was coming again. Only one thing for it, I thought. The after-shave stops the blood and stings, but it is so effective. Not this morning! I must have spent an hour or more trying to stop it. I went a little fuzzy-minded at this stage. I refound myself in the kitchen. I returned to the wet room to check if I’d left the taps running. I could see the pile of kitchen towels and toilet paper with bits of blood on them. There were some in the waste bin, and 
for some unknown reason, I’d spread others around the toilet seat? Still, it let me take a snap of them, Hehe! Then, I found the blood-soaked plaster on the top of my head. The box of plasters was in the kitchen, so I cleaned it up; it was still bleeding, so I put two thick plasters on it after trying to see if the Brute would work this time. What had happened was a bit foggy in my mind. I’m unsure if what I’ve written is exact, anyway. I’ve just had a thought! Maybe the persistent flowing blood was shooting out with the help of Dementia Doreen, thinking she was under attack? Har-Har!
I cleaned what must have been the most minor cut ever and put another plaster on. Then I meandered out onto the balcony for a nosey around, taking care that the dressing gown was well closed, as I had no socks on nor Protection Pants, and I was aware that if I had not, the tackle would be on view from below.Â
The few minutes on the balcony, like yesterday with the police incidents, were just as interesting. First, I saw about six magpies in the car park mudslide having a bath together… Seconds late, about ten crows appeared and saw off the magpies in no time.
Then, a poor fox appeared from the trees, and just one of the crows made for him, diving at him or her until he disappeared into the tree copse. The poor fox seemed to know what would happen when he saw the crow. He kept stopping momentarily to assess where it was, then shot off again. They say things happen in threes. I wonder what tomorrow morning holds for me. Hahaha!
I thought of my cyber-buddy Tim in New Mexico. He’d have some good photos, but mine disappointed me. Other than the blurry bottom photo, I could not manipulate things quickly enough to catch the fox. I felt so sorry for him. I imagine he would have been trying to collect food for his/her little ones.
I went back inside and changed the bloodied plaster again. As I was putting things in the kitchen waste bag, I was so glad to see Carer Maryham arrive. She immediately mentioned how white I looked and asked if I was alright. Then she saw the blood coming from the plaster. She replaced it, and again, I tried the shaving lotion to try and stop it. No joy.Â
Maryham wanted to ring for an ambulance, which I was against. It had to stop eventually. I suggested she rang 111 for me to get advice. I couldn’t hear the conversation, but Maryham said they were sending an ambulance.Â
While waiting two hours later, Sister Jane called to see if I was alright. She’d had a call from someone about me having an ambulance for a head wound.Â
The 111 lady rang Maryham back. They talked, and Maryham said we’ve got to get a clean cloth and press and hold it firmly on the wound (which apparently was the size of a small pimple) for at least ten minutes. If it stops or continues to bleed, ring them back to inform them. So, I had ten minutes holding and pressing a cloth on the pimple, and Maryham said the blood was barely leaking now. She rang 111 back, and they cancelled the ambulance, thank heavens. And thank heavens for Maryham. When she arrived, she was just finishing her shift and had to phone someone to take her young daughter to the nursery school. Bless her! I insisted she had some nibbles and a drinkie, at least. Saved the day she did! 🤎
The next few hours, well, almost as soon as Maryham left, I got Dizzy Dennis, Fog-Minded-Francis and went into so many flipping seizures and or mind blanks that I got to the stage of wishing the ambulance had come now.
When Carer Joanne came, things got better. Listening to her tell me about the horrible fall she had last night was like bonding—a double bonding, actually. She also has a catheter. There have been no more seizures after this—up to now.
The Social Prescribing team lady rang. I explained that Carer Carer was on holiday and could not assist me with the questionnaire. She was understanding. I rang Jane back to tell her about the incidents, and I was alright.
I’m blogging away, but for an unknown reason, my sight was far more blurred than it had been. It was hard work—and still is. It could be due to the banged head, but I hope it clears soon. This is not good.
Carer Chris arrived. He gave me my medications and put the bulb back in the socket, but I was too nervous to put the light on anyway because it was so loose.
The NCC electrician arrived. A cheerful young lady. She replaced the lighting connections, and now I have light!
Someone famous once said that… didn’t they?
Late now. Gonna get some grub!
I got many electric shocks from the left ankle over the next three hours. (I spoke to soon?)
The chips in the oven were nowhere near cooked, so I took what was meant to be one snap of the interesting getting dark night view of the sky. My habit of pareidoliaising was put into practice with these. Can you see the eyes of the creature? The dog’s head? I must get my eyes done again.
I got the meal served up. It was not one of my better ones, to say the least. The chips were not good. They were so bad I later threw away the rest of the bag from the freezer. Tsk!
Pareidoliaising, on the last Kodak of the day.
Can you see the creature coming from the left with its mouth open? Hehe!
Even I found them, although it did take me a bit longer than the estimated 10 seconds. Tsk!
Coup de grace, an Ode, art-deco,
May your follicles flow,
And any bad luck, never show,Â
May you hang onto your Mojo,
May today’s events, each scenario,
Leave a warm afterglow.
Hoping everyone says to you, hello,
May the day show simpatico,
Be free of snide and innuendo,
My catheter’s full; I’ll have to go…
TTFN
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Well-blooded urine this morning.
End car park in the rain.
Iceland order.
Plenty of sausages?
A mixed bag of treats, bread & cleaners.
Joy! Lemon Tartlets!.
This shot clearly shows the mess made in the wall breather. They told me they were coming back to sort it out, but that was in September 1989. I think I let them done by living so long. Hehehe!
Another visit!
medications I was on may affect things, such as the Finasteride tablets that the so-called specialist recommended that the Doctor puts me on for a month, that may reduce the size of my prostate and allow me to manually pee again. She’s still got me taking them now, a year later? Not that I will ever find out, cause since starting, the Community Nurses were to take out the whole contraption and give it overnight to see if I can pass on my own so’s to put it. They’ve only done this twice in over a year. Looks like I’ll never know?
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Sorry, but this will have to be rushed. I’m so far behind with everything after the £290 CorelDraw 2004 programme I just installed a few days ago crashed four times. As usual, a message came up after reloading each time, wanting my email and an explanation of what I was doing when it crashed, and I lost everything I’d done! Then I had more bother when the Control+I, and E did not work. The trouble is, if I do find a way around it, I forget how I did it the next time it happens.
Pouch.
Urgh!
Yet it took ages to get started?
Hoovered the hallway.
Balcony sky view.
The first mug of Glengettie.
Drinkies, some for the treat shelf, vinegar and seasoning.
As the evening approached, the sky looked good.
Pigged the meal down.
Took this shot from the kitchen window.
, and hazily made my way to the window to take this picture.
I got the chalk, Hehe!
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If I say that today was an odd day, this would be an understatement, a mild euphemism, and an undeniable matter-of-fact. Morning Carer Selina arrived. She medicated me and put on the socks, and after the gal had gone, I’d lost the plot with what I was going to type. Sad, innit?
of my prostate coming out. Cause when the Specialist Doctor put me on the Finasteride tablets for a month.
So the month’s course is now a year-long one, and still, they ply me with more Prostate (RIP)-killing capsules?
A better colour this morning.
The sun was creeping up from the rear left of the blocks of prison cells—no, no, flats! It gave this shot a specific flavour, but I forgot what word I was going to use.
It’s safe to say that the oven burn scar will soon start to crumble off of the hand. It’s not easy taking photos with one hand.
Out came the new cordless hoover with its headlights on when in use. I think I’ll name it Vacuum Victor.
I caught my hand on the rack as I grabbed the toilet roll, and bits of a green-looking scar dropped off. It has taken eleven days to heal. I’d better not pick at it, though. 
Afternoon and evening sky snaps.
Pareidolia’s Delight.
Faces, bird heads, a human head…
A taser, a beast with an open jaw, and a bird with an open beak—it’s incredible how many things I spotted today.
This is the last of the sky shots I took. I took some later ones without the SD card being inserted into Kodak Tim. Tsk! It could happen to anyone, (he
16:20hrs: Carer Ali arrived as I sat down to have the meal. 
tomatoes and veggie sauce, mini vegan sausages, and chips, and I had such a hard time getting grime off the oven tray. I tried cleaning it, but I gave up and threw it away! Hence, the chips were mangled, but I still enjoyed them, even if they had cooled too much. The pot of jelly was of a sour-type one. Nice 
& Tangy! 
I trod on a power socket 
extension that slightly made me jump. I knocked the overbed mini-table over, followed it onto the floor, and tripped again over the walking stick that had been knocked over as well. I wish this was being recorded in something other than my memory! It was worthy of being a Brian Rix-type Farce! 
and 
 started bleeding, I was back to square one, on the floor in agony! I somehow walked on my knees to the recliner to get myself upright again. The grief from Cartilages Chloe and Carole was so bad that when I did manage to haul up my elephantine-stomached body onto my feet again, I took a Codeine, creamed the Fungal Lesion and Harold’s Haemorrhoids, and Phorpain-Gelled both knees and Back-Pain-Brenda! I rose upright to make my way to the bed again… No, there’s more to come yet!
Porcelain Throne arose! I was extra heedful and got to the wet room without further hindrances. The flow started as my bottom hit the plastic lid. It came and came… and came! It was a Kharki, almost liquid type of evacuation. You know, the kind that leaves an uncomfortable sensation in your innards… well, my innards!
again.
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, in yesterday’s blog. She recognised my condition immediately. The belated COVID side effects were that the arm was stinging, and apparently, I was stuttering as I spoke to the gal. I fear it got worse as the day went on. Confusionabalitis reined. I kept going into mind-blanks and seizures at an alarming rate. However, it was the same after last year’s Covid jab, so I’m not panicking. 
Varer Christopher took some sky photos for me last night on his previous two visits that I can use. My eyes were not up to photographing much, but I took a couple before the effects got to me, which is another belated side effect. 
Chris’s first efforts here.
From the balcony window.
Nice.
A double shot, methinks?
His second visit snaps.
Local residences.
Local residences.
I took this one earlier when trying to sleep in the chair.
Chris took this shot for me.
Also, this is one of the burn scars. It seems to be drying up now; the crust is beginning to break up. I burned my hand on the oven rack eight days ago! It’s a persistent little thing. Hehe!
Took this watching the TV in the hope of falling asleep.
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Sky.
Sky later.
Sky laterer…
Chips in’t oven.
Sausages ready.
Sliced a brown baguette.
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Up at 05:50hrs: The wee-wee in the nocturnal catheter pouch was a little darker than yesterday’s. Well, that’s got the essential, crucial news out of the way. I am a confused fool.
midday call, and I hope I remember then.
In need of the Throne again.
or 
. Most likely a memory blank cause 
I’d taken photos and made a right mess of the blogging, which needed much repairing and correcting. These on the left were taken in the wet room, 
Carer Marie came, returning the laundry for me and putting it away for me as well ♥.
I’m not so sure when I took this photo. 
Bootiful evening shot of the sky here. Not that I can recall taking it. Yet I can remember things from back in the 1950s with almost clarity. Mostly the things I did, got wrong and failed at, mind you.
Ah! This is my evening meal: beef pie, potato patties, and garden peas, with some ketchup and a pickle on 
the plate. 
I still can’t see it?
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That should have been a Pooper at the top, Sorry!
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Good colour.
Morning view.
Much painful urging was needed.
My food order arrived.
Spring water.
Carers, nurses, treats.
Food Glorious Food!
Sky photos were taken frequently as I made a mess of blogging. The pains eased a smidge when I got stood? 
Ever-changing views of the clouds.
Do you see the face?
Faces again.
As I was getting the meal sorted.
Carer Christopher came while I was imbibing the nosh. 
I’m not sure when I took this Kodak Tim shot.
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Dark urine again. Fancy that!
Renaud’s in the toes.
Time-killing crossword.
Teeth bleeding after cleaning.
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I rose from the bed at 05:10 hrs. First, I detached the nocturnal catheter pouch. 
Just a little painful.
This is a fantastic view from the kitchen window. Unfortunately, the blotches were caught in all the external photographs today, Humph! 
It was torture! I soon changed my mind, and at the same time, self-loathing erupted when I realised what I’d done… Again! I ordered the wrong size pants, Small instead of large! I’d pissed myself off, something wicked! The genitals were crushed as the catheter tube pulled tight! I grabbed the scissors post-haste and cut the PPs off. 
once more. The pain continued anyway, off and on, without evident causation? These white pants are so thick that I think they catch Little Inchie more than the slimmer ones, but they are just as effective as the Depend ones. I ensured the lad was treated to nibbles and drinkies by showing my appreciation for his time. It was his last night shift call, and I felt a smidge sad at keeping him from getting home.
I made up a waste bag and got on with the blogging, albeit stumblingly and error-ridden. These white pants continued hurting things below. I took an extra Codeine, hoping it might ease things. Huh! Of course, it did nothing to help pain-wise.
Carer Kimberley arrived. She knew I was in pain and showed concern; bless her. I told her of the earlier woes with Little Inchie. I decided to hand her the box of 30 Depend pants: no, 29 now I’ve tried on and scissored off one pair. Hahaha! My wondering wrongly cost me a good bit of cash! 
But thought that if I sent the box to Meridian to issue or use someone else… with less of a midriff on them, and they have also been catheterised, then they could possibly use them in the event that they run out!
I then ordered some large protection pants from the Amazon site. I made double-sure I’d ordered the correct size this time! Well, I did that last time (Well, I thought that I had) and still got it wrong, didn’t I? These were also dearer, but they looked more comfortable and seemingly had a waistband on them. We’ll see when they arrive. Amazon said they would deliver on Tuesday, which is good cause I’m going to Nottingham City Hospital tomorrow. To have the knees and ankles checked for Arthritis and Cartilage problems. Now there’s a word..
There were so many blotches on this snap of a puffer cloud that I was disappointed. I’ve tried cleaning the lens with a cleaner stick and impregnated tissues. Yet still they appear? Such are the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodaemons, apparitions, and other grotesqueries that haunt the hallways and lobbies, searching for Inchie to curse with lousy luck, create ambiguities, abstrucities, 
perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare. Worry and confuse me! Cataract Katie, Neuropathy Pete, Doreen Dementia and Incogniscent Iris are the main culprits. There are others, of course.
There are beautiful clouds in the sky. But I suppose that’s where one would expect them to be. Hehehe!
amongst the clouds.
Later, the sun burst through, and I took this shot of the virtually mud-less end car park. A jolly good mixture of vehicle colours was on show for our perusal. The light blue one, as per usual, parked on the yellow chevron ‘do-not-park-here’ lines. But hey, why should I bother?
Getting a smidge darker out there now. Another gorgeous selection of clouds to find figures in!
Then, blow me, if half an hour later, out came the sun again, forcing her way through the ever-darkening clouds. Mayhap, a ‘Goodnight all!’ message? Hehehe!
Better get some fodder sorted out, then… off to the kitchenette, and I conjured up a simple meal for a simple, tired old man.
I enjoyed this one, especially the cunningly cooked potatoes in the crock pot that I sliced while still hot, sprayed with oil, and put into the preheated oven for ten minutes with the vegetable pastie. I ate it all up, washed the utensils and plate, and swiftly fell asleep watching the goggle box.
Carer Richard arrived.