Inchcock Today – Memories Evoked + Odes

Looking at an old photograph can stir memories, even in some Doreen Dementia suffers, like I am. So here are my initial ruminations of looking at this picture… They may come over as a little out of sync, but one’s thought triggers another. I had to be adding them than before I wrote what I was doing… then I forgot what I had started typing. Sometimes remembering later, begin to correct things, and another unrelated memory pops up… to be forgotten about again. Later on, I got all confused but carried on anyway. Sorry about this.

This now embarrassing, brownie-camera photographicalisation shows the signs of authentic poverty in which I grew up. Although, at the time, I believed we were luckier than some of the residents of Brookfield Place. But not many.

Obviously, I was scrubbed up using carbolic soap. I was redressed into pants that didn’t fit; the crumbling walls on the 1899-built two-up, two-down terraced house make me cringe when I see it now. See that? I was nine house bricks high at the time. Not much taller now!

Having a photo taken was an event in those days. I believe Mr Wright, whose family lived at the end of the small terrace, number 10 (I might be wrong, of course). Mr Wright was the only person nearby who was well off enough to own a camera then and generously took pictures and got them developed and given to those in them. A wonderful man.

Christine. Mr Wright and Jane are on holiday in Mablethorpe! I recall feeding the family dog Rover (No pets were allowed on the caravan site in those days.) each time Mr, Mrs Wright, and daughter Christine went on holiday, taking Sister Jane with them; after Jane returned home, I’d better explain that while I think of it.

A better-off side of the family, with five boys, wanted to adopt Sister Jane. Dad opposed this, the fights started, and it was agreed that Jane would of out to Italy with the family. Which left me thinking, Jane was ‘out there’ having a ball, while I was left with Dad (Mother had done another runner from the police). Had to do the cooking and what cleaning I could family. Clean out and set the fire but did not start it until I saw Dad coming home. He thought it was overspending to make a fie for only one person. Give him his dinner, and get the things ready for the morning in the coal house ready for clearing out and resetting again in the morning. So, the crux of it was; that I was a smidge jealous, thinking that Jane was out there, in the sunshine, wanting for nothing, living the life of Riley… While Jane was ‘over there’ thinking that I was at home, living the life of Riley! Hahaha! In truth, poor Jane was miserable and had it a lot worse than me! She was molested, had to be a maid to the boys… When we found out we were both miserable, we had to laugh. As I understand it, each of the lads, who are now men, has been arrested and found guilty of various nefarious offences. Worra family!

Recollections of the folks living near my beloved Brookfield Place came to mind.

From the left, Sister Janet, Inchcock, Christine Wright, Mrs Wright and Walter. Can’t remember what we were doing or where we were when taking the snap. Either Mr Wright to son Brian would have taken it?

This picture, I do remember having being taken. A Door-knock photographer took it (2/3d a photo 11p in today’s money). Not cheap! The rather distinguished-looking (I don’t know how or why I remembered that?) cameraman said it’s usual to have a girl and boys toy in hand. I recall Jame going up to get her teddy from the bedroom, and I nipped next door to borrow a ball from my mate Jack. On my behalf, returning to have the picture taken. But putting on that forced smile was almost painful for me. Har-har!

A terrible picture of my blonde locks. This brings a scary memory back to me. Often I would be in the backyard. Our house was about eight-foot from a railway viaduct. On the left in the top photo) I would be playing or chopping wood in the backyard and the train; it was a busy line, with Arkwright Street Station, high above the houses. We got goods, commuter and the London Express’s all passing throughout the day and night. The houses shook, the windows rattled, the light swayed…

Yet, they never woke me up or bothered me because I grew up with it. Later, when we moved to Ipswich Circus, it was so quiet that I couldn’t sleep for months! True!

I lost my plot there, didn’t I? Sorry, where was I?…

Oh, yes! In the backyard, a neighbour usually would run at me and start to beat me around the head. This is all genuine! I had to wait until they had stopped, to find out why they were clouting me… had I done something naughty (not unknown), or as it usually was, the hot ashes falling from the trains had set my hair on fire again. (Which, more often than not, was the case)

It’s not surprising that I started losing my hair at 20-years of age?

Christine Wright, in front of her house in Brookfield Place.

Not that Inchcock is creeping out behind her? Hehe!

I’ve no memory of this photograph being taken.

I think this one was taken in Wilford or West Bridgford.

Christine and Janet got me to pretend to be knocked over and lay under the Morris Ten car. Haha!

The next one, I can vaguely remember.

The hosepipe was out in the backyard. Fed through the window from Chrissie’s kitchen tap. It’s the summertime, and someone will get soaked, methinks… I vaguely remember grabbing the hosepipe in the cause of self-protection. When those two got together, there was always a danger of me being injured, embarrassed or molested! In this case, all three. And I got a good soaking, to boot!

♫ Memories are made of these… ♫

My family, as such, were Methodists, Wesleyan,
Dad rarely went to church; Mother was an Aryan…
We soon split up, first off to Sicily, went sister Jane,
Brother Pete joined the army to help keep sane…
Mother ran from the police, again and again…
So it was just Dad and me in the main!

Education and affluence, to me, were strange…
No class, I never heard of a counterpane…
Then, I had no bad habits from which to refrain.
As you’ll read above, I got set on fire by many a train,
I’d never dined out or been on holiday or on a jet plane…
I used to get bad headaches, not a posh migraine…
But life was never dull or mundane!

I soon learned that nothing in life is free or certain!
An outside toilet, in winter it froze up, even the chain!
The only interest in sex came from the Chaplain…
I never went abroad, to Italy, France or Bahrain,
Shopped at jumble sales in search of a bargain…
I was considered weird cause I didn’t like John Wayne!
My searches for romance were all in vain!

My hopes for my future were low and uncertain,
I’d sit in my flat, glumly looking out through the curtain,
Plans and designs were ruined cause of my scatterbrain,
At least I’ll never become part of Britain’s brain drain!
My sanity was fluctuateable and hard to retain…
Timourousness, trepidation, and a cruel self-disdain…
My confidence and self-esteem had been mislain!
Don’t suppose I’ll ever find them again?

Is my Alto-Ego me, or am I?
Why do I even wonder why?
Would I be happier as a troglodyte?
Would I still like Marmite?
I think I’m losing this brain fight…
My last driblets of sanity are taking flight…

I’ve tried to do moral things and not to be profane,
Up to now, I’ve avoided trying out cocaine,
From alcohol, greed and bullying, I abstain,
Yet feel my life is almost transmundane…
Are my thoughts really mine or nongermane?
Shit!… I’ve forgotten what I was going to write!

.

Inchcocks Bungee-Jump – Where, How and Why?

Inchcocks Bungee-Jump

There was a damsel I wanted to impress,
She was chunky, and I’d heard, easy to undress…
She loved a laugh and smiled at my stupidness…
But she admired men who showed fearlessness…
What could this whimp do with his faintheartedness?

I pondered, deciding on using fictitiousness!
Told her I was going bungee jumping, most unchivalrous,
Where? she asked – ‘Darley Dale on the bus…’
I’ll come to see you, she said. Oh, excessiveness!
Now to face my acrophobia… but not be loveless?

,

I got the motorbike mended, off to Darley Dale,
Picking up en route, the bonny lass, called Abigail,
I arrived at the festival and put on a swagger, to no avail…
From inside, my stomach churned; I must’ve looked pale…
I was putting myself through hell for a desirable female!

Nervous? Me? Yes, I could hardly breathe or inhale!
Searching for an excuse, I was feeling foolish and frail…
Yet I was laughing along with my beloved Abigail,
I looked up at the cherrypicker platform I’ve to scale,
Fear of heights and cowardice… will I die at Darley Dale?

I found a resolution by fearing being mocked should I fail…
Idea! Thump a Policeman, then they’d take me to jail?
But no, I must do this heroic act to impress Abigail!
If I live through this, fall in love, I’d tell the tale…
Or should I run away and search for the Holy Grail?

They booked my jump for about 1400hrs…
I sneaked away to the Pretty Flowers…
A quaint pub on the road to Alton Towers…
I drank three ciders and four pints of Guinness!
Enough surely to get me out of this?
I’ll never get up the ladder, being so pissed!

Walking back to the fair, when I was getting near…
The fresh air must have taken away my fear…
But it may have been something to do with the beer?
I started whistling and greeted the gang; I was feeling queer!
I cheerfully got into the bungee-jump helmet and gear!

.In the jumpers tent, all the others, some in over-leathers…
Nervously talking and bragging, being sick the others!
“Who’s first up?” most of them dithering and nervous!
I called, “Me first, captain!” The others finished their reefers…
Momentarily I thought, Did I take my beta-blockers?

Too late now, and I felt like a performer in a circus!
Abigail cheered me as I ascended,
I slipped on the ladder, hit my midriff and got winded,
Not enough for my bungee jump to be rescinded!
No stopping me now that I’d ascended…

I pressed on out to the platform… was this all a dwale?
Got out to the edge… shirt off, like a Chippendale…
Everyone from below could see I was a male!
The wind… suddenly blew a gale!
Down onto the ice-cream pole, my body did impale!

A Red Cross man arrived first. “Here, take this aspirin, cock!”
The whole thing was a shock and schlock!
And, I’d laddered my new knee-length bamboo right sock!
Why worry about that… it’s poppycock?
Mayhaps I’d gone into PTSD or shellshock?
The police arrived and arrested me for TWOC!

Inchcocks Make Folk Laugh in Ode Series 77⅘th

Inchcock: Diary-Belated Photographicalisations 1.2

Including revelations from Inchcock’s past!

Oh, yes! and an Ode, too!

A mixed bag of Moon pictures from the kitchenette window.

I tried both cameras as well. Only the last one was any good. Hehehe! There were plenty of absolute failures taken, though.

Peripheral Neuropathy Pete struck at just the wrong time again! He’s clever at doing that, a cunning ailment indeed! Haha! I was just pouring the boiled water into the mug to make my Glengettie brew!

Memory Prompting old snap!

revelations

If I recall correctly (I sometimes do), this was taken in the back yard of Co-op Grocery store number 118. Arleston Drive, in Wollaton. I started there as Greengrocery Manager. During the happiest working days of my life! Boss, store Manager, Mr Morris. Got up to Assistant Manager of the store… and made a terrible choice, in accepting a job in Beeston, as the Greenfruit – Wet Fish shop manager. I often wondered over the years what would or could have happened career-wise if I’d stayed in Grocery as Mr Morris’ second man. Cause the Greater Nottingham Co-op got a new chairman, who unfortunately oversaw the retail foods departments. He closed the bakery, the cobblers (shoe repairers), and opened Superstores, the first being in Trowel, a couple of miles away from Lily Grove, where my shop was situated. Of course, they had lower prices, and my sales went down 33% the week the store opened! So… they closed it, along with many more small retail outlets.

The real sadness was that when I first saw him at the next shop, I was put in, another one due for closure, on Nuthall Road. I’d increased sales at that shop, mainly the wet fish sales, they were up 45%. But meeting him brought out the hatred for him in me. He was a smug know-all. I made it worse when he asked where I got catfish from. I picked up what he thought was catfish, told him I get it from Rossfish in the market – and told him, “It’s not catfish, it’s called Dogfish!” With all his conies and bum-lickers with him, this did not go down too well with his ego! Me laughing might have made things worse. After that, the hatred was mutual.

Until the new Superstore opened, a Bulwell Superstore, half a mile away! I was trying to sell cod fillets at 3/6d a pound, and the Superstore was retailing at 2/- lb! I was doomed!

He made my life a misery for years! When I moved to Tesco, I prayed he’d call in to laugh me off, but he didn’t. Probably just as well; it may have saved him from a few broken teeth and me from a prison sentence! Gawd, I was livid at the man!

But all came good years later, the Greater Nottingham Cooperative Society went bust! Hahahahahahahaha! The Co-operative Wholesale Society bought them out, and the first thing they did was close his miracle superstores! But I’d like to have seen him once more, just to laugh in his fat superior face! Still, that’s enough of that!

♫ Food, Glorious Food ♫

Just look at the healthy foodstuffs I had delivered! Bananas, Baked bean & cheese pasties, Cheese twists, fresh garden peas from Nicaragua. Potato and leek pie! Only one packet of smoked bacon this week. Apple pies instead of cream cakes? I did overdo the lemon & lime possets, I admit. Well, they were half-price!

Getting the fodder into the fridge, a minor calamity took place. As I took this photo above, the possets fell off the shelf, one hitting the corner of the drawer below and chipping some plastic off of it… I hastened to make sure that the other jars were safe from falling further…

I trod on the splinter of plastic! Well, the blood flowed! It messed my socks, feet, slippers and the freshly mopped floor. But did I swear and curse? Of course, I did!

I was in the middle of sorting things out. I’d done the floor, and I was in the wet room, tending to the feet and socks and a change of clothes. I thought I’d heard a bell or chime from somewhere? I limped naked into the front room and had missed a call on the mobile, so I rang the number back. The Hairdressers in Winwood Court also do chiropody, telling me my appointment to have the plates done; it was in 20 minutes!

I was a little flummoxed as I rushed to get the dressing done, got the trousers on, left the socks for Sarah to put on for me after doing my feet, checked things for safety, no taps running, owt on the stove etc. and fell chuffed as I left the flat, thinking I can just make it in time…

As I got to the lift, a chap from the other end smiled at me… and said, “You know you’ve got your pyjama bottoms on?” Der!!! I replied that I do now, thanks!

Scrambled back into the apartment, changed into the trousers, and legged it to the hair salon as fast as possible. I may have been a minute or two late. Judging by the glaring look that I got when I entered, possibly a little longer. Oh dearie me! But it got worse… I had the feet done, then slipped her a can of G&T in thanks, and started to wheel the walker trolley out of the door.

I again got the same threatening look as she said: “Are you going to pay then?” No trace of a smile involved! Oh, things are not going well; Dementia Doreen is having a ball with me!

I got back up to the flat and cautiously made a brew of Thompsons Punjana. I say cautiously, cause the kettle is kaputt, and I have to use a saucepan of water – high-risk that, if Peripheral Pete, Shaking Shaun, or Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley should kick-off!

I checked on the order for a kettle on Amazon. Says it is coming tomorrow… It says tomorrow, by 22:00hrs, the tracker says it has not even near to arrived for despatch yet? Hmm! I was hoping it would come sooner; I’m risking s good scalding using the saucepan.

Nosh: Bean and cheese pastie. Two cheese twirls, yellow tomatoes and tons of fresh garden peas. Haha! Flavour: 8.2/10.

Moon from a distance.

Ah, that’s better!

Another decent effort, I’ll try again… I did. I’m too ashamed to show three smudged shaky efforts and this one below…

When I got back and worked on the blog for a good while, I suddenly panicked that I may have left the tap running when I had to dash out to the foot-lady… I shot like lighting to check on the wet room… Well, that’s a lie, but I hobbled as hastily as I could. I am glad to report that I had not left the faucet running at all…

However… I still nearly fainted when I got in the wet room? I’d left the convertor heater on full blast! What a wally!

A sunset from which day, I’ve no idea. But it’s pretty?

If the SD card does not fall apart again and the card reader on the computer is behaving, I’ll have a look later to see if there are any more pictures on there I’ve not put on. Ah, got some!

Forgot about them, me? Yes!

Well pleased with these figures… again!

Body temperature up a bit; it reminds me of the quiz show on the telly years ago, the Golden Shot with Bob Monkhouse. Do you remember it? It was not a brilliant show, but it was so good when Mr Monkhouse compared it. Poor Charlie Williams, who took over when Bob left, was lost. He was a great comedian all the same.

Hello, I got one more sunset photo in tonight! Bootiful!

Ode To My Photographicalisationings

Why is the quality of my photos varying?
Well, there are several reasons, some being…
Firstly, there’s Shirley’s-Shoulder-Shuddering…
Dizzy Dennis is always ready and lurking…

Peripheral Neuropathy Pete… now theres’ a thing!
He can make me wobble, things go dropping…
My right leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dancing!
Nasty, if I’m Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucketing!
Even taking a Weak-Unwilling-Negligible-Trickling,
Throughout the room, the wee-wee goes sprinkling!

Vascular Dementia Doreen, the one I’m fearing…
She gives my memory and brain a pommeling!
Reflux Roger, thankfully now rarely troubling…
Duodenal Donald can be bad, he’s not piffling!

Next, the latest big three ailments arriving…
Cataracts Kathleen, the most serious warning…
48 weeks to wait, before a consultants scheduling,
Right eye worse, with Saccades Sandra troubling…
Glaucoma Gladys, the eyesight is now failing…

The oldest ailments, that are still surviving?
Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, Phimosis, can he sting!
Mechanical Heart Valve, no need for alleviating…
Especially as it is thankfully working!

Another ailment that doesn’t affect picture taking…
The ear holes have long been handicapping…
Now, the ear wax in them is tightly congealing,
I can’t hear the telephone ringing,
Hear the radio or television playing…
Hardly hear the chap upstairs banging and knocking…
But of course, the last line is an advantage!

Try to make them Laugh Series

Life’s Essentials I’ve failed to grasp!

So often, I’ve been beggared, challenged and confounded by these beautiful, cannot live without, creatures.

My first awareness of their desires, demands and wily ways came early in life for me. I’ll explain what happened to get my message across correctly and unsmuttily.

I think I was around five or six years old at the time. Mother dear had just conned Dad to take her back in after the police chased her down.  She’d been on the run from the police again. Of course, I was not au faux with the situation at the time. I’d been told she had gone to look after Auntie Betty while she was ill. Never had an Auntie Betty before? A few unknown Aunties were visiting me in later years. But none had the attraction of the next Auntie I was to be introduced to, Auntie Kerry!

Mummykins had been back for several weeks. She was on probation). Out of the blue one weekend, I was told that I would have to stay with Auntie Kerry for a few days, and she would collect me in her car and drop me back after a week or so. I just took it that Mummy would have been going to court or prison for this time. All matter of factly, I was used to it by then.

Sure enough, this largish, plumpish ‘Auntie Kerry arrived in the afternoon, a Player’s full Strength in her lips, deep red lipstick, make-up caked on her face, but she did smell nice. She introduced herself and made a bit of fuss over me, asking what foods I like – I’d never been asked that before by anyone! She was not impressed with the clothes Mother handed to her for me to wear but was pleasant enough about it. “We’ll set of early then Francis; I’m going to get him some new clothes from Fords on the way home, my treat!”

This was all baffling to me? What had I done to deserve this? Sure enough, we left and drove into town, parking her Austin A40 in the ice stadium car park, and we walked over to the Fords shop.

I liked how she kept handling me now and then while driving there. As if to put me at ease. (Little did I realise her intentions then, but I soon learnt and appreciated them that night!) She spent a fortune (to me anyway) on clothes and asked me if I liked this or that one before buying – Had I died and gone to heaven?

We took the clothes back to the car, and Auntie Kerry told me it was roast pork, green beans, and baked potatoes for the meal. I was Gobsmacked! Indeed, this put Mothers usual bacon rinds and tinned tomatoes to shame!

We got to her massive gardened house, somewhere (I now know to have been in the Rutland Road area, in West Bridgford) carried the goodies and food into the mansion. Auntie’ said, “Firstly, we’ll give a bath and get you in the new pyjamas” A bath… an indoors bath, with running hot water, no dragging the tin bath indoors, it was warm in there… I think I checked to see that I wasn’t gone to heaven again.

Boy, was I looked after! Bubble bath, proper soap (although I did and still crave the no longer available carbolic soap) and the sole attention of Auntie Kelly, especially in the area below the belly! Of course, I was in my eye-holes. I just knew that I was lapping it up!! I had no idea what was going on. After the extraordinarily long time in the bath, being pampered, massaged and excited, I was taken downstairs and fed like a King!

Blimey! She had a TV too, central heating, curtains, tablecloths instead of the Nottingham Evening Newspaper… luxury this was!

She turned on the TV set and sat me on her knee, well, knee to start with… I lost any interest in watching whatever was on the goggle-box.

“Another bath then?” declared Kerry. Who was I to disagree! Gawd, it was good – I innocently went along with every idea, suggestion or manoeuvrings my mysterious Aunt came up with. Physical jerks of a sort, I still didn’t know what we were doing or why… other than on my behalf, it gave me such great pleasure! And, there was plenty to enjoy.

But, I can assure you that what time we had left together was not wasted. Even in the car driving me home, we pulled up on Meadow Lane, and we re-entangled ourselves, sadly, sickenly for the last time.

No, that’s not true, actually. A couple of years or so later, while Mother was off on the run again, Auntie Kerry turned up at the house many times, and she made sure it was on a Saturday – my bath night, so all was not lost. Just not the same in a tin bath in front of the fire.

I was disgusted (but happily worn-out) four days later, reinvigorated with the kindness and indulgent pampering when she told me I had to return home!

I realise it is now safe to tell this tale, for the mysterious, inestimable, plump, aged Auntie Kerry (whoever she was) will by now be in heaven – awaiting my arrival, I hope!

A heartfelt Thank-You to Auntie Kerry! ♥

Inchcock’s Tips & Advice – Part 3

Ordering Food From Sainsbury’s

A risky business if you forget to tick the No-Substitute button on each item ordered. Their best foul-up was substituting a Milk Roll loaf of bread with pikelets. Their worst, and mostly unrelated to the thing ordered, was when I ordered a bottle of disinfectant, and they issued me with a pot of brown shoe polish! The most hilariously opposite was when I ordered Marmite Biscuits, and they sent a box of iced lollies? But with supposedly suitable substitutes from Sainsbury’s record, it’s better to have nothing than something you cannot use or do not like or want!

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Questionnaires Letters Official Bumph!

Ah, there will be much of this. All of differing nature, from accusative, mock-caring related, but mainly of a financial nature. Then the circulars, cunningly disguised to look like officialdom paperwork to confuse and con. Plus, of course, notifications of increases in rent, carers fees, reduction in bank interest, medical appointment, debt chasers, and the odd birthday card.

Nottingham City Council Fairer Charging Team, Nottingham Revenues and Benefits Team. Financial Assessment for Social Care Services

Since Coronavirus, thus anticipated to continue forever, are the telephone interviews and questionnaires. Last week, I got a call telling me they would ring me later in the week to fill in a detailed form from the… I love the length of this title… The Nottingham City Council Fairer Charging Team, Nottingham Revenues and Benefits Team. Financial Assessment for Social Care Services. The chap had a clear voice on the phone, so I caught most of what he said. He would ring on Wednesday at a specific time, and we might be on the phone for a while as the questionnaire was several A4 pages long.

Come Wednesday, a different man rang as promised. We started the Q & A’s. Talk about detailed: we were on the phone for over two and a half hours! Mind you, I did have to stop twice, for a wee-wee. (You’ll find this a problem in your dotage!)  Bank details taken? All my ailments were requested, with the effects they cause me, in particular. There are so many, I must have missed some off. I wondered at one time if I should have mentioned the pustules and boils on my bum, but I didn’t bother.

After so long using the phone, Colin Cramps came on in the left hand and fingers. I had to swap to use the right hand, which has Peripheral Neuropathy and is affected by the Stroke. This gave me more pain and hassle, I dropped the phone and got the shakes, and the right knee got a sudden jerk as Peripheral Pete started jerking and jumping, which I thought had broken my patella! All the time, considering what the interviewer must be thinking is going on! I had to stop again. to take a painkiller.

Finally, all done, I was a physical and mental wreck!

Something you whippersnappers might keep in mind for your future mind’s delving into senility. Not an easy thought, I know.

I’ve not heard any reply yet.

DWP Department of Work and Pensions, Disability and Carers Services Charging Team

  • We may write to your doctor or someone else who can tell us how your disability arrests you.
  • We may arrange for a doctor to examine you
  • We may write to you asking for more information
  • We may arrange for someone from your local Social Security office to come and investigate you.

To me, this blast out a message: You fiddling lying old git! No chance! You can whistle for any financial help from us.

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Waking Up!

Firstly, according to how the Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas and Hassle-Stakes are going at the time, you will either be glad you have woken up again or wish you hadn’t!

Above is an indication of how you will feel as you slowly grasp, work out, or guess at what day and the time it is. The split in your reaction will be about 60/40 in favour of depression!

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Medicationalistalisationings

It seems that Vascula Dementia Doris (Who will undoubtedly visit many current Whippersnappers in their old age) had been causing me to get the taking of the medication all wrong. And I’d got into a bit of a mess with it. The Social Services supplied me with Carers, AM and PM, to sort and control my medicines. This has not been the success that I’d hoped it would be… Humph!

I’ve been having the carers call for about two months now. Last week was the fifth time that no one arrived. Not so bad during the week, cause I can get help to call them, and someone in charge will be on site. Which I’ve done four times now.

On one occasion, on a Saturday with no one in the Winwood Court Meridian office, I rang the number and got a central control room, wherever that is. The gentleman (I use the term loosely), answering, got annoyed at my not hearing what he said, and I was stuttering a little, which seemed to bother him somewhat. But someone did arrive shortly after and sorted the medications. But why did they not get in touch on any of the occasions to let me know? I was just told that someone failed to turn up?

Rather annoying, and this meant taking the tablets so much later. Which on one occasion was six hours late, by which time I was in severe pain with Duodenal Donald because the Omeprazole had not been taken! Also, every prescription package from the chemist has had a problem with it. Being late, no Codeines sent, the wrong Peptac… on and on it goes. If the charges go up, or when, I shall have to be vehement in my complaints cause nothing has changed.

Be aware of these problems, Whippersnappers!

Self-Administered Subcutaneous Injections

As you young-uns get older, there is a good chance of you having ticker problems. By-pass, Aorta Valve replacement, DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis etc. Of course, I have been blessed with them all.

Enox3a

In my case, subcutaneous injections are infrequently needed. Only when the INR level gets below 1.0, but it has to be kept in stock just in case, as it could be a lifesaver. Two injections, twice a day. Along with increased Warfarins for a few days, whatever is instructed to me by the Haematology, DVT Clinic at the Queen’s Hospital.

It helps a lot if your chemist supplies hypodermics with needles that are unbent. My chemist is very good at sending them to me (picture above). As well as wrong items on the prescription, missing them off altogether, and failing to deliver them. Who is it?

Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Road, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, near the launderette and pub, is near the ignorant staffed Lidl store. Telephone: 0115 960 5453. Be wary!

Subconjunctival haemorrhaging Eyes

These add colour and depth to your good looks!

Perhaps! Hehe!

Part of the Inchcock Advice & Tips Series

More To Follow folks

Inchcocks Monday’s Mental Meanderings

Mr Unfair

With him, you’ll not be able to communicate…
At any time disaster, Accifauxpas, you have to wait…
He’ll hit you anytime or where your life he can decimate!
His murderous, clever skills, I’d like to cremate…
But he’s not real, so he’ll carry on brutally, as usual, mate!

He’ll get at you if you feeling on a high, or unwell,
He ignores it when you scream, beg and yell!
What will he bring you next? You can never tell…
Coronavirus, measles, arthritis? You cannot foretell,
In making you cringe and frightened, he can excel!
If you’re a victim, you can expect the death knell,
It’s better than this painful life in ‘Mr Unfair’s’ hell!
—————————————————————————

‘Odds & Sods…’

One moment I’d be thinking of 1966, at Wembley,
Where did I put my book Contraband, by Dennis Wheatley?
Ogle out of the window, a kid’s playing with a frisbee,
Rushing like to be on time to take a wee-wee…
Grumps! A clean-up, Little Inchy leaked rather untimely!
What was important to remember… Ah, today Sainsbury’s!
Carer Richard arrived late, in a rush, but we had some repartee!
Crap on the gogglebox, nothing for me…
I was slightly tempted to watch Old Mother Riley,
Until I was reminded what rubbish it was in 1953!
Mind you, in those days, Inchcock had a coal fire and settee,
He gorrit from Wigfalls, 2/6d a week, and deposit 12/3d,
Ah, the time when Inchie swore at a football referee…
His first time in a Black Maria, after ‘match, he was set free!
He never dreamed of having loadsamoney…
Just as well, life ain’t been all milk and honey,
But he still tries to be witty and funny…
He gets it all wrong, of course, lucks has been his biggest absentee!
Still, he’s stopped smoking and drinking, Yessiree!
Now no one talks to him nowadays, you see!

—————————————————————————

Grizelda

Inchcock’s had to cope with many a grievance,
Well, injustices, wrongdoings, and many disagreements,
He learnt boxing so as to boost his confidence,
100% record, he lost every bout, but kept his effervescence!

He’d try to make people laugh, so’s not to upset them,
But this only caused further thumping and mayhem…
They could be brutal, but not very often,
Then a day came when he was smitten!
Grizelda a German gal, big solid; but with Inchie, a kitten…
6ft – 4in, with biceps like tungsten!
Inchcock’s passions she did enliven…
He was so glad he enlightened…
Never again, was Inchcock frightened!

Part Of The Inchcock Make Them Laugh, In Ode Series

Inchcock Today: Maintaining One’s Sanity in Ode – Part Two

Sanity is something that does not come readily…
Insanity, now that comes easily to me, for free!
It wasn’t a good start to life for newborn Inchy,
The poor little mite had a nasty squinzey…
Handed Inchy over to her, by the midwife, Elsie,
Inchcock, her newborn less than 3lb baby…

A Verse from Inchcock’s Alto Ego

His Ma said: I Don’t want it, throw it in the Trent!
When he heard of this, years later, t’was a rent!
No wonder the lad grew up, a smidge belligerent!
And always felt unwanted, unloved, different…
Had he known the misery coming in a torrent…
He’d have settled for drowning in the river current!

Back To The Real Inchcock’s Odeing

My lack of schooling stunted my working activity,
Thus starting my wander into psychoactivity?
I was determined to actively maintain my morality,
Improving myself, was the task of great enormity,
Things went wrong, and life ended up a bit shitty!

I proudly continued to work hard, showing my stupidity,
Made redundant four times, and then the insanity…
Duodenal Ulcer, Reflux Roger, Heart attack, hit me,
Peripheral Neuropathy, Saccades, deafness you see,
Then the stroke – medical problems constantly…
The fungal lesion, piles, problem in the lower-region vicinity,
But, did it bother me? Nae, nor even the poverty,
Press on blindly, bumbling, fumbling along, is the key!

I had to show faith, belief and positivity!
The body was getting a bashing, feeling rickety!
The memory, well, short-term, almost hilarity,
Is there any help? A bonkersness charity?

Control, concentration, became a travesty!
Sometimes I can control my passivity…
But worryingly, is my current oversensitivity,
During the day, I can feel quite jaunty…
Then sink, thinking self-pity,
But without any clarity?
The mind working somehow in duality?

Of wants, needs and desires, there’s a deficiency,
Simple tasks grow in perplexity…
Depressions show ever more confusion, density,
I fail to attain the slightest moments of tranquillity,
Thought Storm rage, wee-wees show violent fluidity,

For Porcelain Throne sessions, I’ve grown an affinity!
I know; this is something of an abnormality…
I suppose, all a part of my growing mental-duality!
Depression, anxiety, am I becoming a dilettante?

I intended today, to try and stop being so whiney,
She just kicked off again; Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley,
I just rubbed in a dollop of Phorpain gel – gently!

There is something I await, pretty eagerly…
Summat I have to do bi-quarterly…
Even though I’m now quite elderly…
Inject Enoxaprin into my tummy.

Well, that was nice, two injections into one dummy,
I suspect you’re finding this ode a little crumby?
That I throw in the odd bit of codology?
Enough of this danged cybertechnology!

Whoopsiedangleplop!

Oh, I forgot about going to the clinic, neurology,
Is there a department called Forgettology?
Where they can mend a wayward memory?
A shame I’ve got this mental and physical instability!

I suspect you’re finding this ode a little crumby?
That I throw in the odd bit of codology?
Enough of this danged cybertechnology!
I’m off to get my bus pass, after making a mug of tea!

The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe Ode

Maintaining One’s Sanity – Not easy you know!

With Thanks To Madge & Margo for the Memories

SANITY

Did I have it in the first place, though?
I started going loopy about 70 years ago,
Long before I attained the shape of a rhino,
My voice then would have been falsetto,
I ate ice cream, long before they made the Cornetto,
I lived in a terraced house, in the Meadows ghetto,
No hot water, inside loo, no electricity until 1952,
Mother was the pushy one, scared me stiff… a virtuoso,
But the police were after her, run away, she had to go,
In winter, ice on every cracked or broken window,
Twelve years of tripping over the warped lino.

Dad said, we need money; I’ve got some jobs for you!
Two paper rounds, a Saturday job, that’s just a few!
After school, I rush home; here’s what I’d do,
Clean and set the fire, and make Dad some stew,
He could be home six o’clock, or a quarter to two,
No time to play, but I did pray for a TV to view!
Never got one, of course, but one was always due,
Not that I had the time anyway, with the cleaning up to do!

Got a job, two guineas a week, got a flat, although…
I got impetigo, got thrown out, so off I had to go…
Playing solo Ludo… it wasn’t terrific, you know!
But I got into digs, full board… and found myself aglow,
The landladies daughters, things unknown to me they did show!
I was proud and macho, every night, with Madge and or Margo…
Showed me the best ways to keep from feeling low!
Lessons that even today, I’m glad I did undergo,
More later, time to take my medications now – Hoho!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Part of the Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe In Rhyme series

Inchcocks Attempted Escape Ode – It failed, of course!

Inchies Attempted Escape Ode

It’s Not Easy, You Know!

Getting out, that’s something of a rarity!

The preparation for escape overall, schmeered,
Is something that is trepidatious and feared.
But have to be, they have to have persevered,
Painful, dangerous tasks have to be furthered,
Here’s s graphic of some jobs needing to be completed…,

This Mornings Palavas

A smidge high, the body temperature today,
Nowt to fret over, it’s often been this way,
The sphygmomanometer gave 168/71… Hey!
Pulse 97 – blimey! Hope they go down, I pray!

Mike Fries CEO Liberty-Global – Virgin Media

Got sorted out, and low and behold,
Onto the computer, and I’ve got all frampold…
Liberty-Global Virgin Internet – went down six-fold!
My view of this crap firm must remain untold!
Or I may pass my anger-management threshold!

So Much For Taking One Of These!

To the Porcelain Throne and on the seat…
Passing the evacuation was an uncomfortable feat!
The runny gooey mess was finally complete…
Had to clean everything; I hope there’s no repeat!

I took the above morning medications…
None of them caused me any addictions!
Stubbed my toe, causing many ululations,
Noticed on the legs, more even vesiculations,
Such is life, full of irritating tribulations!

The prescription toothpaste a bit sour?
Eight dropsies shaving, three in the shower,
New soap today, scented with elderflower?
Dropped the sponge, bent, hit my head, Wowser!
Against the wall box that giveth the power.
Didn’t half hurt; it made me swear and cower!
It was still hurting after over an hour!

Ah, blood runneth from my private region!
Yes, it was from Little Inchies fungal lesion,
I’d not caught or banged it – what’s the reason?
Ointmentating hurt had to have an intermission!
At least the boils on the bum are in remission!

Humph!

Now to apply the Germoloids ointment,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids, ah, now so evanescent,
And the escaping blasts of wind were now conticent,
Oh, that Germoloid, it really is heaven sent!.

Now to use the soothing, mild Germolene cream,
On the stomach folds, eases the itching like a dream,
Another cream, with results I hold in esteem.
Nowt in this product to make me scream…
Not like Dakacort, that gives me agony I can’t redeem!m,

Saccades eye drops; next, you know…
I miss target often; it runs down my nose…
Cheek, then though the moustache it goes,
Into my mouth, how it’s not poisoned me, I don’t know?

Ear drops, well, Olive Oil,
No, bother, sweat or toil,
Hello, I’ve just found another gum boil!
Just doing the ablutions nowadays is a droil!

Into the PP’s, and freshened and dressed,
Suddenly felt at my embarrassingly awfullest…
Took me so long to get ready again…
I’d missed the bus; it’s such a pain…
I’d lost my desire a zest…
The bus had gone, too late, what a bain!
I now accept it… I’m going insane!

Part of The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe In Rhyme