Inchcock – Thurs 19 Nov 20: Soylent Green Memories Prompted!

TFZer discrete meeting? Hahaha! ♥

Thursday 19th November 2020

Danish: Torsdag den 19 November 2020

_________________________________________________________________________________________

00:40hrs: It all happened in a sort of slow-motion, to start with. I semi-woke up and lay there pondering the upcoming opportunities this dedicated ‘Toilet Day’, of 12th November, had to offer.

What Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, Disasters, Failures, Stalemates, Mental-implosions, Frustrations, Defeats, Katzenjammers, Nonachievements, Babalaases, Pitfalls, Disappointments, Mysterious wonders of Woodthorpe Court: The Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, Hallucinations. Materialisations, Poltergeist, Lemures, Spectres, Spirits, Spooks, Eidolons, Wairuas, Kehuas, Manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum, to torment and frighten the bejesus out of me; that might present themselves this Thursday.

Oddly enough, as I was thinking of this ‘Dedicated Toilet Day’, as I was removing my potbellied, portly, wobbling, paunched-bellied body from the c1968 recliner, a borborygmic mini-explosion from the innards, signalled the expergefactorial need for the Porcelain Throne. I thought it would be a good idea, if I didn’t delay, and got to the Porcelain Throne with all haste! So, I did!

Not only did I get to the wet room without any bother, (Well, there was a short loss of balance, but that was my own fault for not catching it as I grabbed Metal Micky), and that only lasted a few seconds without any detrimental damage or injury.

What followed was most encouraging. This session was the even less painful, no enteralgia, no bleeding!

And comfortably evacuated; This is first-time that this has happened in many a month! Yee-Haa! But I knew this could not last for long. But I  enjoyed it while it lasted.

Mind you, the poo colour was a sort of green. Still, it made a change: super-easy passage, and a pretty new colour for me to photograph for the gastroenterologist’s Neurogenic bladder and bowel management record.

I was tickled-pink, started singing to myself! (The Young Ones – Cliff Richard) As I was getting up to sort the cleaning up, I spotted the gunk-cleaner on the shower floor, that I’d left to soak in last night – and had forgotten all about doing! Oh, dear!

I went out to the hallway and turned on the shower-power at the box. Back in and as carefully as I could, got the shower on and I sprayed the cleaner away…

But it looked far worse than it did before my orgulous bright-spark of an idea was used.

Humph and Knackwrangles!

And then, of course, to completely demolish the memory of the successful Throne session and semi-contentment of the marvellous evacuation; The moment I moved the showerhead into the right hand so I could turn off the water, and Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters failed, and the showerhead flailed all over the place. This resulted in my attempt to retrieve the moving water-jetting, hose-pipe like head, I had a tumble to the floor and got an early morning closed up shower, and soaked the jammy bottoms and me, and I got a few knocks new and bangs, in the process! Tsk!

The struggle to get back up, the cleaning and sorting out, were done in a silent, stewing mood, ruminating and chewing the cud; determined not to get in a sulky frame of mind at the return of my devil’s own luck, and eventually affirmed it as just a tribulation. I was pleased with myself then, at how I’d talked myself into just accepting things, knowing these incidents will only get worse as the neurotransmitters slowly die anyway. Confusingly, sometimes it’s like this, others, I get all het-up, cursing my fate, and start Duodenal Donald and Anne Gyna off, but not on this occasion? I sort of habituated, adapted to the situation. I’ve no idea why this is so, but I’m pretty content and stilled about things now.

I made a brew of Glengettie tea and realised than yet again, I’d not taken the evening medications! What an Ahntoisht, Shilmazel! So I took the evenings doses, and hope that I remember in size hours or so, to take the morning ones. Putz!

I carried out the Health Checks. The sphygmomanometerisationing first. But I didn’t fret over this reading, no doubt the falling over altercation had effected the reading, I’m sure.

The new thermometer did not work first try. Do I turned it off and back on again, and got this disappointingly low reading, again though, this is probably due to the fracas in the wet-room?

I got on the computer and started to update the Wednesday blog. Which was done in a reasonable time for once, the ailments seem to be feeling sorry for my tumble, and are being kind to me perhaps? (I might be losing it again here!)

I poddled to the wet-room, for another wee-wee, and when I got back, I noticed the veins in the left arm were almost luminescent? And, odd;y they looked a little greener than usual?  When I took this photo, I used the flash, and it came out looking more strange than it really looked, but I WordPressed it anyway, cause it looked so odd. A camera glitch? Anyway, it made me think of Soylent Green. Hahaha!

Of course, it might just be one of the resident Woodthorpe Court mysterious Eidolons, Goblins, or Aliens, that are checking out my innards. The Chilli-Meatballs last night might have confused them? Chortle! Cackle! Guffaw!

I got the updating finished and sent off. Then emailed the link.

Pinterested some snaps, the got the ablutions sorted out. Well, I started to anyway. But I remembered the morning dosages needed to be taken, so returned and tool them, then back to the wet-room.

I noticed as I stripped off (a horrible, harrowing thought for you, I’m sorry. Hehe!), that I must have picked up in the tumble. Pretty scratch, though! Hahaha!

The teeth cleaning went fine.

The shaving surprisingly, only brought about two tiny weeny nicks, not worthy of mention really, but it’s too late now, I have written it. Simper!

I found one of the miniature wounds from the Accifauxpas on the right-hand knuckle. I seem to have picked up some nicks and bruises, ain’t I? However, the showering, which was something I was a smidge concerned about with the balance not yet back to normal, went great! No Dizzy Dennis’s, there was not a single clout or banging into anything, I was well pleased again.

The medicating was as smooth as could be expected! No bleeding from Harold’s Haemorrhoids or Little Inchies fungal lesion! The dressing was only bothered temporarily by a dodgy-wobble getting the trousers on, but I remained on my feet, Oh. Yes! This is a better day, up to now! Perhaps, my prayer and a few words to Mr G the other day had got through? Or, not! Snortle!

I was in good form after the ablutions, and set about moving the hand-washed togs about, to nearer the heater, now they had stopped dripping.

That reminds me of when I was a whipper-snapper! Every Saturday morning, come rain or shine; after I’d set and laid the fire, and done my paper rounds, I had to go to Sanderson’s Tripe & Cow Heel shop, on Arkwright Street, and wait (sometimes for hours), to claim the ham bone, once enough had been sliced and sold, 3d (Threepence it was)  And heaven help me if I couldn’t get it! Dad would not be happy with me at all!

This look like the original shop, I could find a photo of when they were open. Gawd the place smelt gorgeous! Once a fortnight I had to some tripe as well. Every week, the jellied pork dripping they sold, 9p a pound (weight) was bought as well. Oh, the memories are flooding back now! Of course, when Dad was working on a Saturday, meant I had a few hours of waiting for him to arrive home. Which, in the rare event that one of the three items was unavailable; meant I had to wait for the clips around the earhole longer.

Happy days, rough, hard work. Mater kept disappearing to avoid the police, so muggins had set the fire every morning! Do the paper rounds so kindly got for me by Dad, the cooking and cleaning too. But I did feel needed, wanted, and the odd belting!

But I was content, I knew no other life! There were plenty of lads worse off than I was… I’m waffling again, Sorry about that. It’s a bad habit of mine, wandering off, on some unrelated topic. Still, I do enjoy getting these memory-prompting meanderings.

I got the black bags gathered and onto the three-wheeler-guide trolley, and had a job to do it, but got it out of the door, along,  the lift lobby, and into the waste room, and deposited all the small bags down the chute.

It was deathly quiet, and no signs of any tellurians. Even the ‘Hum’ was quieter today.

Even Herbert has only been heard on two occasions up until now. I’m beginning to worry about this. He’s not one for persiflage, more your sort of taciturn, reserved, reticent, antisocial type.

The walk back to the flat along the newly, highly-attractive, ornamentally decorated and floored lift lobby.

It felt so. Haha! 

Getting into the three flat’s lobby was easy enough this time, and at that moment, I was feeling better than I have for a few days, getting tired, but that’s to be expected.

But, when it came to getting into the front door, that’s the maroon one, that the workers laying the floor for us all, decorated with some gunk for me, and left it there, and I have no intention of cleaning up – Swine!, I felt the weariness take a strong grip on me, and the missing so far today, Dizzy Dennis kicked into gear.

But I was not mentally tired, only bodily. Does that make sense? I went out on the balcony to take a couple of photos of the busy scene down below on Chestnut Walk.

Blimey, we had a traffic jam! Hahaha!

I spotted some crows in the distance and snapped them, but it was not a good shot. Shame. I wanted to post them to the TFZ site, Lona might have appreciated them.

Doing some updating on this blog, and I thought I heard a clunk, it may be the belated INR WArfarin results and new dosages. It was, and the dosages had changed. Meaning, because no one from the Clinic, Anticoagulation or Deep Vein Thrombosis had informed me from the Monday test, I have been taking too few Warfarins tablets since then. This Coronvirus is most likely killing a few people without the virus!

The landline chirped and flashed. It was some woman on a recorded message again, telling e they had taken £75 something from my account for ‘Prime’, if I want to cancel this press One, so I did. Waffling on a woman with either a Chinese or Indian/Pakistani accent – I couldn’t tell if it was recorded or real voice, she was going that fat, and without a cat in ells chance of understanding anything she was saying. I rang off.

Dizzy was joined by Anne Gyna, and I gave up on the computer and got the nosh prepped.

I had a good sniff at the out of date potato cakes, and luckily, they passed the sniffing nasal-assessment, so went in the oven, and were added to the tray.

The Chilli-Con-Carne, with the added tomatoes, mild chilli seasoning, Squid vinegar, garden peas and gravy, tasted jolly good!

There was so much of it though, you can see here that I couldn’t eat it all.  Titter! Seriously, it was a worthy 9.3/10 for a Flavour rating!

I was doing the washing up when Dizzy Dennis and BLB (Balance-Loss-Brian) allied to attack me. From here onwards, memory, of the night was enveloped it a vague mistiness.

When I woke up later – there was no scribbling on the notepad. I had a criminally, painful backache, and the shoulder was so painful. Signs of an Accifauxpa? But no memory. I’d not taken the evening medications, and was wearing the reading glasses?

Another mystery of life in Woodthorpe Court. Hey-Ho! 

Gawd the lower back hurts?

Inchcock – Mon 5 Oct 2020: Brilliant news about Sister Jane – busy day – cataclysmic end!

♫Doo – do-do-do, doo doo doo doo…♫ TFZers Clint!

Monday 5th October 2020

Haitian Creole: Lendi 5 Oktòb 2020

: 01:40hrs: I didn’t need to wake-up, I’d not managed to get to sleep. I was so worried about Sister Jane and Pete, and not knowing. Duodenal Donald was ever-present in differing degrees of pain-giving. Tsk!

I passed wind and wanted a wee-wee. Escaped the £300, second-hand, not-operational recliner, and without even trying to check my balance.

I took a wee-wee, an LDSSM (Long-Dribbling-Spraying-Splashing-Marathon) one. Trotted off, taking the well-used EOGPB (Essential-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket) with me to be emptied cleaned and sanitised, to the wet room.

: Midway through disinfecting the bucket, and I need a second wee-wee! The AMD (After-Micturition-Dribble) was more like a river, Tsk! (Later on, inspired by the wee-weeing flood, I changed the original thought-graphic above. and made this new one up. I thought it was funny enough and topical to the Inchies Tale of Woe? Hehehe!

Had a clean-up, and changed the PP’s. Then off to the kitchen. The lights seemed to be twinkling a lot more this morning, a little like Sister Jane’s when she laughs and smiles, which brought back the fretting and hopes that she is alright. She and Pete have gone through the medical grindstone lately. ♥

The Health-Checks were done. Duodenal Donald was hacking away at me again, most uncomfortable.

I reckon the worrying about our Jane and Pete is the reason behind the pain. They do not deserve such bad luck.

The SYS was still high, but down on yesterday.

The pulse was up a lot, though? I’ll check ion a while to see what it should be, on Google.

The stick-thermometer showed a decent rise of body temperature, at 35.3°c. When I got the check done on the pulse, this is a screen-shot of what it should be. But it only confused me more than before. Why two columns of figures? Anyroad, I reckon the pulse is a bit high. Hang on, though, Resting Heart Rate? Conrad Confusion, reigns?

I did some waste bag making and sorting out. Having to make tiny bags is a bind, but necessary all the same, otherwise, using bigger bags, means they cannot go down the narrow, tiny, wrought-iron waste-chute openings. Hence, I now have about nine bags to deposit down the shaft later on, far too early to use it now, it’d wake folks up on its way down.

This photo on the right is from last Monday. When Diarrhorea Donald, had taken over control of the innards, from Constipation Konrad was blocking movements, and I had to dose myself with capsules. 

Well, two days later, and Constipation Konrad was back with a vengeance, and has been ever since. So today, it was Senna, and Macrogol needed to try and counter Konrad. And many gulps of the inutile, ineffective Peptac will be of little use, as it is typically, against the horrors of the Duodenal Donald attacks. The ulcers are getting to me today, they just plod on peppering me with stabbing pains that are worse than on previous occasions! Mind you, maybe Anne Gyna is a part of the problem as well? All I know is, something must be done if they don’t ease-off soon, it’s fogging the brain’s thoughts and intentions. I’ve got enough worries about with Jane and Pete.

During this short spell that I’ve been up and hobbling about, I’ve needed four wee-wees, and am now going for another! Crumbleckskins! At least I’m getting a variety of modes, that one was of the LPT (Long-Persistent-Type).

I got on the computer and found this mystery photo on the right, in the SD card.

It was apparently taken yesterday morning? Perhaps it could be a target for the Tate Gallery, do you think? Haha!

The updating of the Sunday post was a drawn-out affair. I carried on working on it, getting more and more frustrated with my lack of concentration. Notwithstanding the three varied wee-wees taken. Weeeee! Got the link emailed, and posted the diary off to WordPress. Did some Facebooking, then onto the WordPress Reader, some great stuff on today.

When I around to consulting the notepad to start today’s diary going, I came across what looked to me like; Por or Par, 86 or 81 (10.15), written, or rather scribbled. I wonder what the heck it means. It’s really irking me, it must mean something or I wouldn’t have written it, surely? Grumph!

I’m getting tired now, not surprisingly, with getting no sleep at all last night.

I tried to make a Morrison online order for later in the week, but no slots were available. So I had to use the Sainsburys service. This may cost me more, well, it will, and the risk of short-dated items is almost as bad as Morrisons are. Phlump! Still, I hope to get some canned Chill-Con-Carne from them, as advised by Tim Price in New Mexico, as an Anti-Constipation Colin! Hehe! (I’m not going to get too hopeful though, most stores seem to be running out of stuff lately. Panic buying, I suppose. I’ve an Iceland order coming in the morning. I hope they have the ready-made Gino D’Acampo Cannelloni Ragù meals in stock, I really enjoyed that!

My super G5 modern mobile phone rang out, well, it might not be that new, Ahem!

It was Pete, my Brother-in-Law. I was overcome with joy when I asked about Jane, and Pete said she was at the side of him and was okay.

I shed a few silent tears of happiness.

He explained what had happened yesterday with Jane; They rang the NHS 111 number and told them of the Cluster-Headaches the gal was suffering with, and her losing the sight of her left eye (I think it was the left one). They were advised to go to the QMC hospital straight away, and this they did.

The Bratton’s duly arrived at about 15:00hrs – and got seen at 22:15hrs. Blimus!

A rarity said Pete: But they let him go into the treatment room with Jane, which I thought was brilliant. We chatted, and Jane came on the line, and we had a three-way natter of sorts, but much of what we said was not sinking in, My gratification, delight, ecstaticness and euphoria at hearing that Jane was okay, was blocking out some of what we discussed.

I know that Jane has to go back again today to the hospital. I reminded them of the link to the NHS Cluster-Headache pages on the web that I’d emailed them. I think Jane will get some encouragement when she reads the treatments listed that are available to treat the painful problem.

I recall Jane saying the nurse told her what she could expect on today’s visit, anarchy! She told them that Mondays are pandemonium at the QMC (Queens Medical Centre). I hope she can get seen sooner rather than later. ♥

After ringing off, I was over the moon, never been so contented for years. I was making notes on the pad to use here later, and the landline burst into life.

It was my heroin, Jenny ♥. Explaining that Asda delivery drivers do not come into the flats. So she has been going down to fetch the stuff for various elderly and disabled tenants and asked if I had wheeler, they could use. I got the spare three-wheeler out of the balcony and shuffled it somehow to the front door. Where Jenny appeared in a few minutes – but it was no use to her, the bag wasn’t big enough. The poor gal came all the way up to.

Herbert was model-making again. Tap-Tap-Clunk-Tap. Hehehe! But it didn’t bother me today, with my finding out that Jane was alright.

I had a look at the latest Nottingham and regional Coronavirus figures. A little concerning, I’m afraid.

The intercom rang, and flashed. It was the Amazon delivery of shoes arriving. I didn’t see the delivery person at all, but they left the box outside of the front door for me.

I got the box inside and on the flat airer.

Opened the container, and had a look at the footwear contained therein.

Crap, but I only expected them to be at the silly-cheap price they were asking for them. They were the same price as the Shoe Zone.

I then took my ninth wee-wee of the day. Hogglebogwash! They are now coming out as SWOP (Sprinkly-Weak-Orange-Painless) modes.

I got on with doing some more waste bags up. The cardboard from the Amazon deliveries was flattened and got in with the other waste. As you can see, there are rather a lot of them now. Hehehe! I’ll have to make an effort and get them to the waste room I suppose, it may take more than one journey, methinks.

Hello,  the Dusty Springfield tune, ♫I only want to be with you♫ has burst forth from the front door. I bet it’s Josie returning the dinner things from yesterday. It was, bless her. She told me that she enjoyed the brown potatoes, which cheered me up a little further! I got the Nikon camera on the charge, and I have to say, struggled to get the bags to the waste room. A bit of a balancing act with the trolley full to overflowing.

I got the Tower of Pisa-like imitation ( Piazza del Duomo, 56126 Pisa PI, Italy) like three-wheeled trolley through the front door, and by then had three bags of refuse dislodged and down onto the floor. Tsk! 

Retrieved them and restacked them on the trolley, and went the few feet to the lobby door and out into the lift area. More black and white bags escaped and had to be retrieved, not without a degree of, well, silently muttered naughty curse words had been used and got to the waste room door.

  I got the trolley and contents into the chute area, and thought as I took this photograph, ‘This is going to be another on that the Tate Gallery miss, and lose out on’. Hehehe! On the very first bag to be deposited down the shaft, I caught the edge of the iron grating chute, and now have a reasonable sized new bruise to show off.

Backing the trolley out of the room after unloading the bags down the shaft, I accrued another injury on my left buttock, as I walked into the door frame with a jolt. That’d be because I’m a dolt!

With a newly acquired style of limp, thanks to my bum-banging-blimp, I made my way back to my apartmentette and got the dinner prepared and served up ready for consuming.  

A ‘reet-treat’. Taste-Rating 7/10, got the pots and me cleaned up, and stripped and settled in the £300, second-hand, c1968, rickety recliner. I wrapped the thin green quilt around me, got all comfy and warm, snug as a bug, and so contented and smiling inwardly, at the good news about Sister Jane! Then…

Then as I went to turn on the TV, I realised I had not turned the set’s power on yet. Grumbleklunk!

The quilt was taken off, I dismounted the warmth of the c1968 chair, and hobbled over to turn on the power socket. Accruing a stubbed toe en route on the Ottoman! Whincingtime!

Wrapped the thin green quilt around me, got all comfy and warm again in the recliner…

Then I realised that the TV remote control had dropped between the chairs as I got up to put the plug into the TV! (I’d taken it out earlier, to use the socket, for the camera charger). Argh!

I tried to retrieve the remote with the long picker-upperer – but only succeeded in moving it out of sight, under the recliner!

I was just-short of suicidal feelings; only dejected depressed, despondent, and disconsolate,  dispirited, downcast, dismayed, and down-in-the-dumps with my sudden return to a world of Whoopsiedangleploppery! Not really, but I was irritated a smidge! Hahaha!

The quilt was taken off, I dismounted the warmth of the rickety recliner again, and got down on all fours, got the torch (handily kept on the recliner at all times when not in use), located the remote, and with the long picker-upperer, managed to slide it out from the furniture, then toward myself, and at last, reclaimed it. I put it in the Ottoman with the torch, and then planned to get back on my feet… somehow!

I did eventually get back up, via the Ottoman.

Falling off of the Ottoman (more bruises on the thigh), and banging the left foot. Then tried clinging onto the recliner…

But the cushion slipped off as I grabbed the chair, and ended up back on the floor where I started. I moved the cushion out of the way and tried again…

Next try, I utilised the swivel chair and Recliner as leverage, and success! I was back upright…

I knocked off the bottle of Springwater when I turned to get the quilt back on the chair…

I distinctly remember as I sat down to try and settle again, knocking the spectacles off of the recliner, Argh! But they were the old pair that I keep nearby if needed during the night, and I just left them there, as I’d got varifocals on anyway, to watch the Frost TV programme that I wanted to see.

I got back resettled, yer again, in the c1968 recliner, and wrapped the thin green quilt around me, got all comfy and warm, and…

Naturally, just as the heart started to calm down, I needed a wee-wee! Flagtoggles! Gragnangles! Granglesbognessbuggerit!

I got up, all the rigmarole, and farting about had to be gone through again. Got to the bucket and the darned mode of wee-wee was of the FFFONEC (Forceful-Furious-Fast-Orange-Never-Ending-Cloudy) variety. I had to endure one of the longest PMADs (Post-Micturition After Dribbles) ever! Humph!

Getting silly this is! I wrapped the thin green quilt around me, got all comfy and warm again in the recliner (Deja vu?). Oy-oy-oy!

Got the TV turned on and had a swig of the spring water/orange cordial. Then, I turned the TV to channel ten and realised the two-hour episode of Frost, had only fifteen minutes left to run, so there was no point in watching really now! Tsk! 

However, I can report that all these Whoopsiedangleplop, Accifauxpas and botherations; that usually would have got me all hot-under-collar (Not easy when you’ve not got any clothes on, Hehehe!) Honestly, they merely irked me a tad – and I can thank Jane for that, learning of her being okay, and chinwagging with her and Pete for a few moments, got me through this injury-ridden load of frustrations, and I felt in good form, with a definite sensation on contentedness!

I switched the TV to Radio three, and found some jazz music to listen to, and settled down. The Thought-Storms, were for the first time ever, unprecedentedly, idiosyncratic, enriching and pleasingly palatable.

I nodded of and woke an hour or so later, to hear the end of Nina Simone’s 1958, ‘My Baby Just Cares for Me!’ through the headphones. (Very memory prompting!) The quilt had come off of my feet, and the left one was stinging a bit, and seemed, well it was, swollen? Presumably, this happened when the limb collided with the corner of the Ottoman. Ay-yay-yay! 

Sweep Morpheous soon returned, as my mind happily mused over Sister Jane feeling better. I just had to put this picture of Jane (left) Me, and Christine Wright. We were young, frisky and having fun in our back yard. It was taken a few years ago… Hahaha!

Notice Inchcock had hair in those days? What we were doing with the hose pipe, well, maybe Janet will see this and remember, then she can tell me. Over to you, Jane and Chrissie!

I removed the headphones, passed wind, and drifted blissfully, smiling inside, off into the wonderful land of Nod!

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

Bear with me; these are hard to find…

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

I had Double-Pneumonia at the age of three,

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

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

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

Which left just poor old Dad and me,

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

I survived being thrown in the Nottingham Canal,

Clinging to a barge rope, without much hope,

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

Hauled out, was taken home, full of hope,

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

GC Young

Jane away in Italy still,

Life was for us both, a bitter pill,

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

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

Duodenal ulcer, Anne Gyna I acquired easily enough,

Got shot at work, and a new heart fitted,

Fron flat to flat, I flitted,

Got made redundant, Cancer zapped, not fritted,

Job searching failed, hopes, attritted,

My desires, faith, and plans buffetted!

GC stick

Then along came Peripheral Neuropathy ailment,

 Jane, back from Australia, accompanied me,

To and from the hospital, she was heaven sent!

Then the stroke, I was a broken bloke,

Months in care, after the stroke,

Slowly, recovery began to cloak,

Bits of the old Inchcock, showed, bespoke,

And I knew something more would wroke!

Then the diabetes was found,

And things got worserer, all around,

When Saccades-Sandra, was also found!

But, my hopes and aspirations remain,

Although I am no longer sane,

I’m ready for the challenges again…

I just wish there was a little less pain!

I fang you!

 

It’s Been a Funny Old Life Part Five – Starting school year…

NCCwalk01

I was born in 1947, an accident for sure,

Mother now long gone, to void being arrested,

This fact I was content to inure,

By Auntie Gail then, I was molested,

I loved it, thought she was a treasure,

Then going to school, this is where my sanity was tested!

*****

Avoiding being beaten up several times each day,

Keeping the bully boys at bay,

Being called a Nancy for wanting to learn,

Having three other jobs, for spending money to earn,

Paper rounds, Saturday job & wood bundling; jobs I couldn’t spurn

For Dad said, I had to Pay-As-You-Earn!

*****

I had to earn enough cash for the school meals daily to eat,

I’d have agreed to being adopted in a heartbeat,

But Aunt Gail didn’t ask, and we never again did meet,

Oh, how I did cry and wailed, I was so downbeat!

*****

I continued working, bundling the fire-wood,

Grafting away every hour that I could.

Doing extra night shifts, when they asked, I would.

The long tiring hours stood me well later in adulthood,

Then the boss showed me how to saw the wood,

He left me to carry on, there was so much blood!

*****

When the plank shot up off the bench, it caused a conflagration,

Then landed on he head, causing a nasty indentation,

The emergency services arrived, quite an accumulation,

Firemen, ambulancemen, police, a right altercation,

The ambulancemen gave me a perambulation,

To the Children Hospital, where they gave me an investigation,

I was sent home within the hour, Dad offered words of caution:

If my dinner isn’t ready when I get home again, they’ll be an argumentation!

Ah, memories…

Inchcock: Looking Back – In Rhyme (Of sorts)

 

NCCwalk02

Looking back, I see happiness, struggle and guilt,

I slept under clothing; we didn’t have a quilt,

The back yard covered in soot and silt,

From the railway line above us, what BR had built,

In poverty, we were up to the hilt!

*****

The disappearing family, starting with Mothers running away,

The police pursued her, warrants in hand, I might say,

But I didn’t blame her for running then, and not even today,

The police couldn’t find her, try as they may,

They search all over Britain, even in Callais,

Years later they did, arrested her, tried her but didn’t put her away,

Gave her a new flat, paid her rent, utility bills too did they,

Con-Woman Par Excellence, at her trial on the day,

Victims appeared as Character witnesses for her! it’s true to say.

*****

Joined the Army, booted out shortly, made me feel blue,

Searched for a job, something I could do,

Went into retail, and did very well too,

Then I got made redundant, what a hullabaloo!

Did industrial cleaning, hard work and horrible too,

Then I got made redundant, occasion number two,

The only job I could get then was in Security, boo-hoo,

Minimum wage, eighty hours a week, eventually promotion got through,

Even more hours, but the wage went up 15p an hour, Yahoo!

Then I got made redundant there too!

*****

To another Security company, where my hopes were high,

Another 10p an hour, I felt I could fly!

Working in the Control room, hard graft but I was on a high,

Then I got made redundant, for the fourth time oh my!

*****

No chance of further work appeared now was so old,

64 years of age and out of work, it made me feel bitter and cold,

So I had to go on the Old King Cole; the dole,

Signing on, applying for jobs, nothing to behold,

I was not trying enough to find work; I was told,

140 applications in 6 months not enough? Anger took a hold!

*****

 “I may have to review your support rates,” said the spotty faced urchin,

He nearly got a punch on his acne ridden chin!

But I remembered I was on a high reading for me Warfarin,

I asked the pimply person if he’d like to somehow begin…

Talking to me without sneering, my control level was getting thin,

That was when he hit a panic button, to get Security in!

*****

I was removed to an office, to await the arrival of the police; there’s gratitude!

A chap said ‘We’ve got it all on Camera, your abusive attitude!

I’ve done or said nowt wrong, Good God, I spewed!

The police arrived, we chatted, they checked the camera, I’d not been rude!

They let me go, showing common sense and latitude!

*****

Next week I was put on Income Support, I was a £10 better off then,

Soon I got me retirement pension; I was happy again,

Of course, the Angina, and duodenal ulcer was a pain,

Having to have a new ticker fitted, and  the varicose vein,

The Arthritis the sticking reflux valve, the blood from piles did stain,  

The hearing aids now fitted, I could hear a bit again, 

I started to go just a little bit insane!

*****

Bum bum!

Sat 11 July 2015: Inchcock Today – Whoopsiedangleplop encountered!

Saturday 11 July 2015

DSCF0061

0540hrs: Out of the kitchen window – Wonderful!

Up at 0500hrs: Mind racing trying to remember what I had to do, I knew there were some important things that I didn’t have time to do yesterday. But could I find the list wot I wrote yesterday?

No!

The skin cancer wound was itching like mad again, the little Inch had not been bleeding so much thankfully, Anne Gyna was a tad bothersome, Arthur Itis not too bad yet. Ulcer okay despite me having had me chips last night, the hernia playing up, but with all the lifting I’ve been doing I sort of expected this.

Had a dizzy spell when I got up and moved the quilt throw and jammies into the empty bedroom. Bit bothered about this, I don’t usually get them early in a morning?

Probably all the hassle and worry about so many things to get sorted yet and no progress being made.

At least it’s weekend now, so I should have time to get some things done without appointments.

Duncan, a cyber-mate is coming on Sunday to see me – not only that, he’s bringing a swivel chair he no longer uses for me! That is really kind of him and appreciated. Lifted me this news did. He said he’ll be here early on Sunday – I’m really looking forward to meeting him.

Lynt02This will be the second cyber-buddy I’ve met. Lynton Cox (A grand bloke) came to see me at the flea-pit earlier this year, and we had a jolly good chin-wag and he helped me with advice and encouragement too. Another decent sort indeed a bit special my Cyber-mates are.

He treated me to a nosh in a cafe as well.

Made a cuppa and took me medications.

Noticed that the bruising on me wrist that DSCF0062no one seemed concerned about when I tripped on a lose kitchen floor tile and reported it to the City Home Obergruppenfurher, had got bigger?

They just may read this and feel guilty about ignoring me plea for the tiles to be secured? Or not like.

Hey-ho, I’ve glued it down now, hopefully.

I checked the bus time-table, there are only four buses to town on a Saturday. First one at

1030hrs. Last one back from town at 1505hrs. Still, better than a Sunday there are no buses on Sundays. Still, the pensioners free bus-pass is getting less use.

I keep checking the hot water situation, but it is not hot enough to have a wash in yet, let alone have a shave – back to boiling a kettle then later perhaps? Not good!

Made another cuppa and carried out the porcelain functions. No blood from the haemorrhoids.

So busy it’s unbelievable – I had hoped that when I got to old age things would settle down and be easier. But no, it’s more hassle and hecticness than ever before – can’t remember half the things I need to do, let alone get them done.

Still no hot water Tsk!

Did some Facebooking and started this blog off.

BusTTPut a photo of the bus time table on TFZ, here it is.

Eight trips to town on a weekday, four on a Saturday and none – yes, not any on a Sunday.

This will take some getting used to.

I thought about sorting the carpets out and then thought maybe best to get all the repairs out of the way first? I don’t know, feel so alone and useless at the moment.

So much to do and nowt much getting done like.

Not feeling too good now for some reason, feeling a bit queasy and light headed. Oh dear.

CityRain I decided I had time to make up some pots of medications – oh dear…

Just about half way through them and noticed as I counted each pot, that one of the morning pots only had 8 pills in it – worked out which was missing (Beta-blocker) and opened the cupboard above to get some out and Arthur Itis made me fingers stiffen and do their own thing and I knocked over the boxes that fell onto the open pots below that I’d just made up, spilling them all over the damned place.

Took me ages to sort them out, throw away the ones that had been on the floor and checked to see that the right pills were replaced in each pot. By then it was getting close to the bus coming time and I had to rush and have a wash and shave in semi-warm water – naturally I cut missen shaving again. Wot a plonka!

L9route1Got missen ready and things that I need (I hoped) for the trip in me bag and set off to the bus-stop.

I caught the L9 bus and enjoyed the elongated route it took to town.

No idea how the driver got it through the tortuous side roads it had to take.

The locals on the bus were in a chatty mood between them themselves – by the time we had gotten into town I was particularly worried about Enid and her arthritis in her left shoulder.

And Gladys was desperate to find and buy a tea-cosy like the one her mum had knitted for her in 1944.

A chap who’s name was not mentioned was running low on hearing-aid batteries.

DSCF0065I hobbled down Queen Street across the slab square and down Exchange Walk to the bank.

I asked for and got, some 20p pieces I could save to use in the flats launderette. Then had to see an advisor to get me address changed.

She informed me that I had got me security code numbers wrong on two occasions, and they had to be changed. Huh! If I couldn’t remember those how do you expect me to remember a new one!

Ah-well, she suggested if I had a new flat, I could use that number and the number of the old house or visa-versa. I was getting headache now. After much mind puzzling thought I came up with random numbers and just hoped I’d remember them. (Mmm…) we’ll see.

Left and went to call at the Jessops camera shop to ask them if they could show me how to change the size of photo’s stored on me card in the camera – but they were too busy.

I nearly set off to walk to the Audio Clinic – but being as keen as mustard and having a sharp alert brain – I’d only got half way there when like a shot, I realised it was Saturday. (Fool!)

DSCF0066So I poddled back down the hill into the City Centre.

Where I was glad to find the Nottinghomian citizenry had not lost their ability to ignore the red pedestrian crossing lights on Red.

I only saw two or three pedestrian cyclist in town today as well.

On me way to the Pound Shop I passed a DSCF0068couple of newly wedded personages outside the old Victoria Hotel, now named the Hilton Hotel on Milton Street.

I took photo of them so Mike and Shirley, or any other couple could do some reminiscing like.

The Jaguar E type they had hired wasn’t half stinking of petrol – a leak there somewhere there must have been. Even the shoplifters nearby where mentioning it – but the happy couple didn’t seem to mind.

I was a bit bonifate in avoiding a turbo-charged Mobility Scooter driven my an aged lady with gritted teeth and a stare on her face that said without sound “Move!”

got to the pound shop and got some bits I thought I might need – a strainer, two fresh air citrus bulb things that I can’t make smell of anything when I got back to the flat?, oven tray for me chips, laptop hoover, a box of tea bags, a mug and a little sewing kit. I ask you, wot a plonker! Buying a sewing kit with my arthritic hands? Huh!

So, onward to Tesco and got some bread thins. some individual long life Carnation milk pots in case I run out of milk again and some New Zealand apples. Nice they are, very juicy and crisp!

Had a while before the bus back was due, so had a plod around the slab square amidst the roller-bladers, skateboarders and shoplifters having a rest and bite to eat.

Caught the bus back to Woodthorpe Court. 01topa

Dropped off the bus at Woodthorpe Court and as I entered noticed the laundry had a free machine and drier – so went up and deposited me bags and took me laundry down to do. Cause hopefully tomorrow when Dunc’ the Man comes I’ll be busy like having a great chin-wag.

DSCF0069When I got in the room one of the washing machines had no water? So I used the other one. Not used that one before and it was different to t’other one and I last me money first go. Tsk! Tried again and got it right. Went into the foyer with me crossword book and had a chat with some of the ‘girls’ having their hair done in the next room.

Transferred the clothes into the drier, they seem to have been cleaned well and did me DSCF0070cross-wording again in the foyer.

Two police officers arrived and ran to the lift and up to a flat or other.

Hello I thought! Well, yer would wouldn’t yer like?

The officers cam back down and out to their car, looking very gloomy-faced?

I went out fro a walk as the drier takes an hour to finish.

I soon came back in sharpish – blimey the weather up ‘ere don’t half change quick. Talk about blowing a storm up, the wind was cruel! Mind you, they have given heavy rain out fer Sunday and Monday.

I thought the drier had done an excellent job again. Said me cheerio’s to the gals and made me way back up to the flat.

Put the togs in the airing cupboard – and put on the immersion heater as the water was cold again.

DSCF0071I opened one of the pound shop Air bubbles and could smell nothing at all?

Zilch in the aroma stakes!

I tried to read the instructions on the other one but it was impossible – the letters looked like dots they were so small. Huh!

Hey-ho!

DSCF0073Made a nice strong cup of tea, well mug of tea with the pound shop tea ‘D’ bags.

Laptop on and updated this tripe.

Found a good station on the internet – listening to Big Band Swing at the moment on there Jazz section.

Bloomin’ good stuff! and free!

Big Band Swing music classics.

Just made a cuppa and toyed with the lemon air freshener thingy again – I now have a lemon scented kitchen floor, slippers and trousers.

going to do some Facebooking now although it’s getting late fer me – I’m all excited about Dunc coming to see me.

TTFN.

It’s Been a Funny Old Life Part 3 – Prosed ponderously by Inchcock

Nochead

As an ankle-snapper I had a skinny physique,

In fact they knicknamed me ‘The Pipsqeak’,

When Mam was at home, times were bleak,

She and Dad shouted and fought, they didn’t speak,

She rarley stayed home for more than a week,

To the outside loo, if one wanted a leak,

Getting the tin bath off the yard wall every week,

Demanded a certain safety-first technique.

Drag it into the front room in front of the fire,

Clean it up with bleach and a pad of wire,

Heating up water in kettles & pans was dire,

The use of the fire and stove I’d aquire,

To keep the bath topped up as Dad did require.

After several top-ups Dad would retire,

Then t’was my turn in the cold water in front of the fire!

Dry missen off with the wet towel Dad had used,

Bath back on’t wall ready fer it to be reused,

Out to the coal-house while Dad snoozed,

Chopped wood brought in coal, getting bruised,

Laid the fire for the morning – felt abused!

Life was how it was, so why feel sad or blue?

No hot running water, fridge or TV it’s true,

Tableclothes? The Evening newspaper would do,

Lighting the gas-lamps was risky too,

When Pennies in the meters were due…

Mam had some arcade coins, one or two!

No toilet paper for our out-side loo,

Cut-up newspaper for wiping: the memories ooh!…

Nottingham Then and Now: Part 2: The Elite Cinema, Upper Pariament Street

002Elite2

Memories of The Elite Cinema, Upper Pariament Street, Nottingham

The Elite was one of the first in a new breed of ‘super-cinema’ to be built in Nottingham. Designed by the London architectural firm of Adamson & Kinns, the facade and exterior side walls were treated in an expensive white glazed tiling and contained statues along the upper portion of the building. Internally the decoration was carried out by interior designer Fred A. Foster who created a stunning interior with the auditorium walls lined with wood panels and a great deal of decorative plaster. Seating was provided in stalls and circle levels.

002Elite3

It opened on 22nd August 1921 with Mary Pickford in “Pollyanna”. There was a grand concert organ by the firm of Willis-Lewis which had 78 stops, plus a full orchestra. The facilities within the building also included a a restaurant, a Georgian Tea Room, a French Cafe in Louis XVI style and a large ballroom located on the top floor.

In the reception was a gigantic ornate open coal-fired fire-place.

002Elite5

The first ‘talkie’ in Nottingham was shown at the Elite Picture Theatre, George Jessel in “Lucky Boy” and after its screening, the cinema was closed for several weeks in July 1929 for a refurbishment.

A new Compton 2Manual/6Ranks organ was installed which was opened by Cyril Birmingham.

24 June 1929: The talking picture show had been introduced two years earlier in America with Al Jolson’s The Jazz Singer.

002Elite6The first full-length ‘talkie’ film in Nottingham were shown at the Elite Cinema.

Organist Jack Helyer, in his white coat and tails, entertained audiences with their favourite tunes.

Peoples best memories was of the open fire in the foyer, especially when they arrived at he cinema and it was cold and icy outside!

Next in the Nottingham Then and Now Series:

A selction of Nottingham area photographs of specific Buildings

Then and Now – See the changes that has taken place.

Nottingham Then and Now – Part One: Sheep Lane – Market Street

NTNSheepLane

Market Street (Above colour photograph) started out as a narrow alley called Sheep Lane but due to its limited width quite a few accidents happened, pedestrians going up meeting carts coming down caused people to be squashed against the sides – usually resulting in blood stains on the floor and wall.

This led to the locals referring to it as Blood Lane.

When it was widened (civic improvements in 1866) the aim of the Gentry was to name it Theatre Street, because it led from the Market Square to the Theatre Royal.

The market people had other ideas and the night before the official unveiling some of them unscrewed the sign and replaced it with one stating Market Street.

The following day was market day and everyone, the Gentry and the market people, congregated at the bottom of the widened Sheep Lane for the opening ceremony.

The Mayor pulled on the cord to revel the new sign and proclaimed the new roadway to be “Market Street”, even though a portion of the assembled crowd – mostly Gentry – complained; but they were heavily outnumbered, and tried to point out the Mayor’s error when it was already too late.

There has been 128 murders recorded on Sheep Lane/Market Street.

Next in this series: The Elite Cinema – Upper Parliament Street.