Inchcock Today: Diary & Odeing

Inchcock would like to start this blog with one of his more heartwarming efforts, Ode-wise. Sentimental, uplifting, exhilarating style of Odeing. It’s part of his self-declared “I’m fed up with hearing myself moan” policy. Thank you!

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Wednesday 3rd August 2020

I spent five hours head down in the recliner last night. If I got about three hours of sleep, I was lucky. One of the worst “Shoot awake & nod-off again” nights ever. At 07:45hrs, A real shaking of a wakeup, with the need for a wee-wee, forced me to scramble free of the c1966 recliner and over to the overnight bucket. I failed to get Little Inchie out in time! Gragnangles! Off to the wet room. I was in a bit of a state, so decided to get another stand-up wash and a change of PP’s naturally. I gave the shower a go, just to see if might work, but there was no noise from the drain-forcer, and the red light came on, so I quickly turned it off at the power again. A got a stand-up washing of the affected areas. New pants on, and back out to the kitchenette to get the kettle on.

Carried out. With another set of fantastic results to savour.

SYS a phenomenal 126!
DIA at 69

Pulse 82
Body temperature 33°f

Couldn’t ask for a better set of figures. Why, I’m down to near normal and in the green, to boot!
07:45hrs: Richard arrived, and he seemed in a slightly perkier mood today at first. But when he sat down, the yawning began again. After interrogating him, Hehehe! I discovered he’s had a bad night again.

He showed me the monitor the Diabetes clinic had fitted on his arm. He scans it twice a day, and the results go straight through to the hospital. True monitoring and a very natty system. Glad he’s got it, so a professional eye can keep tabs on his sugar level.

Not much time for nattering this morning, although he didn’t rush me at all. His body language and my EQ told me he wanted to get away early, and that’s fair enough for me. Hobbled him to the door, where he picked up the waste bags. Made sure that he’d got the bag of treats and wished him some sleep as we parted.

I spent hours on getting this blog template started, but it was hard work; the eyes are not so good, and it was a medley of mistakes, errors, correcting, and then finding the corrections were wrong as well! Time flew by, and I had so many breaks for wee-wees that I thought they would never stop! They didn’t, but did slow down a little after 14:00hrs!

My toffee-nosed, self-important, nyaff, noisy neighbour above kicked off with venom. And continued on and off, firth next five hours. Still, it’s nice to know he’s still alive.

The rumbling innards suddenly got more volatile, with involuntary emissions of wind from the hind quarters. And off on a hobble to the Porcelain Throne. One of the oddest visits in a long time. I got sat down on the Throne, and much wind escaped, but nothing else. I waited patiently, having a go at the crossword; for some reason, I could read the clues with less difficulty than usual. There’ll be a reason for that. If you find it, can you let me know, please?
Anyway, I gave up. got the pants and trews back on and was opening the wet room door, and winds started coming again, accompanied by the rumbling and grumbling innards. Back onto the Throne… for a repeat performance. seems likely that Constipation Konrad is in charge of the bowels, then? Another surrender, with that feeling that something has to, or will erupt at any time now. Most uncomfortable!

As I got into the hallway, with perfect timing, I was only two feet away from the panel: and the intercom rang forth! Yes, YES, it was the plumber arriving to investigate the shower!!!

He was a nice, patient chap. Listened s I explained at I was doing when the alarm went off, and he investigated for me. Five minutes later, he’s got the shower working again. And took the time to tell what had gone wrong with it. A filter had been blocked, and he’s changed it, well cleaned it up, good as new. Explained to me that if a lot of people use the showers at the same time, especially in the higher flats, sometimes the pressure changes. If this happens again, turn it off, and try again in a few minutes. I thanked him and insisted he take a cold drink from the fridge in thanks. Grrreat!

Put some potato cubes in the oven and made an order for Morrisons via Amazon for tomorrow morning. Then got the potatoes in the oven. I’m just having the spuds with some of Jenny’s donated tomatoes, I think. After eating this, maybe I can get some catching-up sleep. But, will I be able to?

MEMORY BLANKS:
Found this photo in the morning. Not the foggiest memory of making it or eating it… But when I saw this, a taste of the veggie burgers came into my mouth.
I think I liked it. Haha!.

Memory regained: When woke me up when she arrived. Obviously, I must have fallen asleep. I was so drowsy after she stirred me that maybe I’d just got off to sleep? It took me awhile to get things together? I remember getting her a cold drink from the fridge and Valerie leaving, then it was head down again… That was it until 00:20hrs when I woke in need of a wee-wee…

A most peculiar evening.

Inchcock Today: Sat-Sun 30-31st July 2022


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.Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

Up all night again. And around 02:30hrs checked the emails and found one from the diabetes tutor. Mega-cock-up. But not all my fault. Meridian was arranging a lift for me to the Bulwell Training Centre for my first session. On Tuesday, I met Natalie in the foyer and asked her if she knew any details yet; she told me, “We’re sorting it!” (Obviously, it has not been sorted for some reason!) She knows about Dementia-Doreen. I said I was worried about missing the lessons. I heard nothing back from them again, and now find the meeting was for yesterday! The email sent had all the dates for all the sessions.
I feared this might happen! And am now in a right self-bashing and angry mood!
Weekend again, so no one to talk to or ask for help with the problem… It’s most  !

Nothing ever works out right nowadays! Why do people who offer to help never get back to me to update things and put my mind at rest? No lift arrived that Meridian was supposed to be arranging. Has the meeting been cancelled? Not according to the email. I’m proper cheesed off! With myself, Dementia-Doreen and Meridian Care, so exasperated, infuriating, and doing my health no good, all this not knowing. Does nobody care? Stupid question, sorry.

Stewing-up inside now. I’m going to have a shit, shave and shower. Pissed-off, befuddled, and self-pitying, totally!

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Well, I stewed a bit more while getting the ablutions done but slowly accepted that I’d been let down again by Meridian or whoever is to blame for not getting back to me about the lift. Realised that there was nothing I could do until Monday. Pressed on with scrubbing up, got five cuts shaving, and… on the sock-glide. I was turning to leave with clothes to go to the laundry bag and dropped some, bent down to grab the trews, and I head-butted the wet room door! What really did it for me; it made me larf it did… then… Had to use the Throne, which caused two sets of bleeding: I found myself laughing out loud for a moment. Cleaned things up and medicated the required areas; made a brew and got on the computer to start the Local News Blog, getting so tired; but more settled emotionally.

I got the and BP done. All results were fine!

Sarah, I think. I told her of the failure to get lifted to the Diabetes session. I was a smidge emotional, I guess.
Blogging for a while, but so tired and confused. Decided to get a quick meal/snack and get some sleep. Some podded peas, pot noodles, bread and a banana. I nearly fell asleep several times eating it. Put the tray on the Carers table, and I settled with my sunglasses on in search of Sweet Morpheus. Despite feeling so knackered, each time I drifted off for a short period, I was waking up so often t]with the Thought Storms raging – usually about the Diabetes transport let down, and not being kept informed… well, it was about that, every time I woke, and there were far too many wakings, followed by emotional turmoil and self-pitying. Eventually, I did get sleep for a couple of hours. Miserable is the best word to describe it.

The final bursting into wakefulness, and I needed the . So, that put an end to hopes of any more sleep.

At least the Throne session went well. No bleeding, mess or pain!
I had a Peripheral Pete right leg dance as I left the wet room. But no tumbling, walking into anything, or injuries, at all. This was due to my depression over my being let down and uninformed about the Diabetes lift and all the ensuing hassle it gave me.
The sky and clouds from the kitchen window looked gorgeous. I got the Canon camera and tried to take some decent shots of the eerie, threatening cloud formations, with the dying sun still trying to get through to the tellurians below. I wonder what it wanted to say? As if trying to talk to us all?
How I love nature.
I noticed I’d dropped crumbs and peas over the carpeting and had walked them over into the hallway when going to and from the Porcelain Throne.
I don’t think Doreen Dementia was too keen on my plans. So, I got the big Hoover out from the junk room and commenced having a careful Metal-Mickey walking-stick aided clean-up. I don’t use this machine often, but I’d forgotten how to free the cord to extend the reach. Also, how to unlock the container to empty it.

I was in the middle of trying to sort this conundrum out, and “Oh, Susan” chimed out, followed by coming into the room. She sorted out the cable and bin mechanisms for me, bless her. Issued the medications and listened as I told her of the let-down and confusion, also the letters I’d had come today from the Diabetes place; Val said, “Well. just ring them up…” It shows that my problems need help from someone who might understand them. My heating on the mobile and phone is not good, and mistakes I have made mishearing, multitudinous! Cataract Cathleen’s input ensured that I could not read the small print on the letter and leaflet. Doreen Dementia forces me into confusion and memory blanks… I’ll shut up now; I’m sick of hearing myself moan! Tsk! I almost forced Valerie to take a thank you in the form of the cold orange juice from the fridge. A well-meaning gal, no doubt about that. ♥ She took the waste bag to the chute for me on her way out.

Taking this snapshot on the left, I had a check-up on the pins and plates. Besides the right foot’s fluid retention worsening, it was to see how improved they were this evening. If they get any better, I may apply for a job as a foot modeller. Hehehe!

I pressed on with this blog as far as here. Then worked on updating the Local News Snippets blog. Got it done and posted by midnight.
Sleep was the next mission. But it wasn’t coming quickly. Wee-weeing needs were not helping. But eventually, I got off into a deep sleep!

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I got a decent night’s sleep for one, so good, I got 6 undisturbed hours once I got off. I woke and broke musical wind at 07:00hrs. Had a wee-wee, the first of oh, so many today. Each session with aplenty.

I took stock of and prepped some of the ingredients for Josie’s Sunday lunch. Got the waste bags made up, and the ♫ Oh, Susan ♫ tune chimed out. It was slightly belated… mot that’s wrong, it’s the weekend, isn’t it? Anyway, came in. Got the tablets sorted, and he didn’t have much time for a chinwag, but we managed a few words before he went. I asked him to take the waste bags with him. Thanked him and wished him all the best.
Got the veg in the saucepan of chilli and got sphygmomanometerisationing.
Darned good results again, as you can see on the left here.
My body temperature was good as well; I let myself go .
I filled the numbers into the DVT site and was in the amber! Yesss!
The air escaped from the rear-end again, and it was off to the Porcelain Throne in a sort of a hurried, wiggled walking style.
Well, that was one of the bloodiest sessions I’ve ever had, apart from the vein-burst when I had the bladder cancer lasered.

Harold’s Hemorrhoids and Little Inchies Fungal Lesion both flowed red. Got things cleaned up and sorted, and putting the Germoloid tube back on the shelf, I had a shirt-sharp blast from Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley. Enough for me to drop the receptacle mentioned above. I bent down to retrieve it and hit my nose on the side of the sink. And that bled… not badly mind, soon had it stopped.

The noisy neighbour kicked off and had a long session today. He seemed to keep dropping stuff regularly; I hope he’s not caught covid or other ailments. Such a nice man as well. As lovely as any other regular, sour, superior-natured, uncommunicative, unfriendly, antisocial, aloof git would be.

A rare spotting of rain was falling, so I got the Canon camera and took these snaps on the left here. The bottom one was through the kitchen window, close up, to try and catch the spots. Not the best I’ve ever taken.

I just started to serve up Josies’s nosh, and the landline burst forth.
My adoptee nephew Jillie ♥ The line was not good, but we had a natter. I mentioned the Meridian let-down with the Diabetes lift and missing the first session. Moaning again. I’m such a helpless wimp!
I had to hurray a bit afterwards; to ensure I kept to the ten-minute window to serve the fodder in time. I made it, and Josie seemed pleased with the look of the meals delivered on the tray. I forgot to take a photo of it as well!  Harrumph & Toadstools!
I was getting a bit uptight with Dementia Doreen! Bashed on with updating this blog for a few hours. Most of my precious time was spent correcting mistakes, making more, and adjusting things again.
“Oh, Susan”, rang out once more. It was Frank, bringing some homegrown tomatoes for me from Jenny ♥ I shall enjoy these with my nosh!
I got some rostis and burgers in the oven. Sliced some tomatoes, gherkins and beetroot onto the plate.
Then, I went on the WP Reader to a renewed mechanic concert from above.
Now, to prepare the nosh.
Some of the Jenny-donated tomatoes halved a gherkin slice, mushrooms, mini potatoes, rostis, veg burgers, and beetroot. A blob of BBQ sauce, some Milk Roll bread slices. A pot of lemon mousse too. This went down pleasingly, and a Flavour-Rating of 9/10 was granted. As I was eating the feast, I noticed the right leg was much fatter than the left one was. So, I took a snap of it.

Put the TV on; the big match was on in an hour or so.
And promptly fell asleep. Woken by the door chime as the Sonia arrived. The TV was going on, and the match was in progress, with no score. I’m afraid my limited attention was taken by the football… don’t recall much of what went on or was said with Carer Sonia, who took the waste bag with her as she departed. Got down to settle and watch the football. I also noticed that the bottom of the food tray had left its impression on the legs. Hehehe! The match, and, as you must know, the score by now… but I loved it so much I put it on here:

I rang Sister Jane to gossip about the magnificent victory for England. (Let’s face it, they are few and far between!)
Got the belated ablutioning done. Everything went well with the teggies, shaving, showering, medicationalisationing, the drying off. No fall, cuts, toe-stubbing, bruisings, or dizziness. A ‘Super Strength’ Class A  

Putting the towel back on, the slow dryer a kicked off. Usually, if this happens in the hallway, as this one did, it’s the safest place possible, having both walls within reach to use to steady any falls. But on this occasion, being entangled in the loops of the air dryer; as we both went down onto the floor didn’t help. Still, no injuries were incurred.

Took a snap of the beautiful sun-setting. Despite my worries and Doreen Dementia’s and Meridian Care concerns, this one held my attention for longer than usual.

I got onto the computer and updated this blog.
Got some tabs made up in CorelDraw and loaded them into WordPress. Of colours to use in tomorrow’s blog.
Finalised this and posted it off. Then tried to get some sleep – it seems an easy quest, doesn’t it?
I’ll see…

Inchcock Today 28th July 2022

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06:00hrs: I roused from my slumber and felt full of life and ready to get upped and at ’em… Thankful to find I was still alive. Blessed the Lord, praised my good fortune, I thanked the Heavens for another day of joy and merriment. And admired the state of my muscular six-pack stomach… Of course, t’was all a figment of my half-asleep, depressed, tortured, nervously agitated, dominated, feeble, and confused mind.

Truth? I felt horrible! Physically, things were not too bad at all! But only mentally.
Fair enough, I’d done something to the right hand’s middle finger, at the bottom of the nail. The tiniest bit of something sticking up, and each time I caught it on something, it stung like hell. Finger beginning to swell and redden? No idea what had caused it.
The ulcer is forever glowing and growing one day, then sinking and hiding the next? But the Doctor said she’s not bothered about this, so it will be alright. She was concerned with the fluid retention and swelling and took the time to talk to me in great depth to explain the malady and how and what to do… She said (To Meridian’s Natalie on the phone): ‘Tell him to put his feet up.’ Nothing like a caring Doctor, I imagine. But how would I know?
Commenced. The body temperature was once again almost perfect, close to the said optimum of 35°f, with 34.6°f. Perfick!
Sphygmomanometerisationing session next. These returns were far better than yesterday’s were. SYS down to 134, DIA 63, and the Pulse down to 79 bpm. This looked good to me. I got the computer and put the figures into the NHS DVT site to see what they make of it. I got a details list; come back this time. The Blood Pressure was pleasing, especially with it going up yesterday. I’m out of the red zone again! Very satisfied with being n the pre-high area. I’ve not done that very often… well, in the last month, I have a few times.

Carer Richard arrived, looking a little more sprightly and not yawning. I was going to ask him if he’d got a decent sleep in at last, but he volunteered that he has four days off now and will see me next Monday. He needed a break. I bet someone doesn’t come in, and they call on Richard again. Poor lad! He checked the medical drawer to ensure sufficient medications were available until Monday. He noticed I winced when I was getting his treats out; when I caught whatever it was, thingamabob, whatnot, near the nail. Told me to level the bit sticking up and put a plaster on it. So, I did! Feeling an idiot for thinking of doing that myself! Haha! We had a natter after Richard had done the medicationings. Taking my waste bags with him on the way out to the rubbish chute for me.

I got the kettle on, and as I did, it was as if someone had turned the light off… The sky went ominously dark very quickly. I got the Canon camera and took this photo. I was expecting a downpour any moment, but no! Within a few minutes, the light had returned. Dr Who would have known what was going on? But not me. Hahaha!
I noticed the usually plus green meadow at the bottom of the tree copse was looking a little weather-worn. But not around the edges, but only in the centre? A dog-walker was picking her little white dog’s poo and putting it into a bag for the poo box. This got me thinking of my younger days living in the Meadows. If memory serves me right, and my long-term memory usually does, the short-term usually affects me. I can recollect that there was an abundance of dog droppings on my paper rounds, and I reckon 74% of it was white or grey. Even some of the cats’ evacuations were! No one ever thought of collecting the turds back then, of course. They’d get dried and then used as kickabouts by the local kids.
I’m assuming the whiteness was due to malnutrition of some sort? Looking back a the food given to some dogs makes me shudder. A lot of dogs ate with the family. Whatever they ate, the dogs did. Then along came the new Lassie and Chappie canned dog food. 3d a can! This equates to about… let’s see, there were 240ds to a pound, so if divide 240 by three, excuse me while I use the calculator… that would buy 80 cans for a quid! Those were the days! Today one tin of Chappie cost £1.30; what percentage rise in price is that?

But the dogs on our terrace did not take to Lassie or Chappie. Apart from Mr & Mrs Wright’s Rover. I knew that Mrs Dukes Sammy, Mr Marsinacks dog (I can’t remember his name), and the barber, Mr Barker’s three dogs, Lilli, Brutus and Chelsea, hated them. Not so bad for those three. The owner could afford fresh or canned meat for them. Other dogs continued to pass the white lumps, most of them going from bin to bin in search of fodder. Still, no one complained about the dog mess… I think we thought it would just evaporate. Ha, Ha!

I spent hours and hours doing this blog. No one called, no hassle… apart from the odd overture of noises from the antisocial, smarmy Herbert in the flat above But, not a lot today… up till now, anyway.

I’ve run out of bread; I do have some part-baked cobs to use, though. I made an order from Iceland for next week and ordered a few loaves; there should be room in the freezer for the bread by then.

Getting late already. I got the meal sorted. I worked things out oven-cooking-wise (Huh!); The veggie burgers needed 30 minutes cooking, the potato Rosti’s 20, so I planned to put the burgers in for 10-minutes, then add the rosti. And what a danged mess I made in doing so.

Muggins here did it the opposite way around! Realised five minutes later that and removed the rostis, burning my wrist as I took them out, and dropped one on the floor.

Reconstituted and shaped it, burning my finger,  and got the burgers in and cooking.

Dropped the plate as I was putting the peas onto it.

Forgot to add the rostis after 10 minutes!

By then, I was pretty self-critical, and at that time. Herbert kicked off with a tap-tap-crunch routine.

I’m sure what I did then, I was pretty stressed and miffed. Somehow, I got the mess sorted in a fashion. And got sat in the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working, recliner, and ate the meal from a tray, balancing precariously on the folds of fat on the stomach. While eating it, I kept getting twinges of guilt for leaving the kitchen sink with food-burnt-on oven trays soaking. Still, despite it all, I ate all of the fodder and scored it an 8/10 for taste.

Put the plate to one side and drifted into a deep, almost heavenly dream-filled sleep. I’ve no idea what I was dreaming of, just knew it must have been something pleasant… For the Evening-Carer had arrived and stood over me, looming and speaking… I thought at first that this must be a part of the dream. My mind was all over the place. The gal had not rung the ♫Oh Susana♫ door chime and came in without me knowing. Good job that I wasn’t changing PPs or wee-weeing in the bucket! I was a little out-of-it, slow, mentally, having just been woken up, so things were foggy about the visit. Got the meds sorted, and I think we had a little natter about something. I walked to the door with her to lock it. Thanked her and offered a treat, unaccepted or wanted on this occasion. Wished the gal all the bestest, and I hastened back for a wee-wee. Not had one for a while.

No shaving cuts… because for some reason, I forgot to shave? The feet looked a little colourful, but I’d not long been out of the shower, so that would have some bearing on their condition, I reckon. Back on the computer, after failing to nod back to sleep. Another ruined night’s sleep. And I’m paying to be woken up to be given my medications! Hahaha!

I found a lost photo of the front car park from this morning.
The vehicles are parked rather decoratively, don’t you think? A colourful selection on view.
Guilt reminded me that the kitchen had not been cleaned yet. So I cleaned it, then got back to the comp[uter to update this blog to here.

Then I went into ponderisationalistical-mode on what today’s Ode should appertain to… Well, I sat here waiting for inspiration. Listening to the dreaded World-Wide-Hum getting louder and louder, or seemingly so!
An hour later, I am still awaiting some afflatus or eureka-moment to inspire the Ode into logicality… no, no, that won’t work. Best do the normal then, type away and hope for the best, no doubt struggling for words, what they mean, how to spell them, miss-typing and spelling, confusion, inanity… the usual stuff then. Sorry about that.

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All the bestest!

Inchcock Today: Diary & Ode

Why did they bother sentencing him to death?
Hang on, I thought San Quenton had closed down? I got this information from Bittanica as well. Maybe it’s another prison?

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Inchies Diary of True Woe

I stirred back into ersatz life. Not springing awake, the event was all rather laid back. Until I realised, I had no idea what the time of day it was. Indeed, what day had just dawned. It was still dark; I had no idea where I’d left the wristwatch and could not find the wind-up torch to look at the clock on the fireplace top. But, no worries, really. I was just slightly annoyed at myself and Dementia Doreen.

As I laid back, with the intention of nodding back off into dreamland, I was assured that there was no cause or reason to get up early, a wee-wee suddenly all but started of its own accord!

This also annoyed me somewhat, having to get up from the place of sleep. But I soon realised it had to be done quickly, and rather smartly for me I thought, was pulling down the PPs and utilising the nocturnal bucket within a minute! Which I knew at the time should not have been. I heard my EQ laughing! Now decision time; Do I go and get my hands washed, thus destroying any chance of getting some extra sleep in? Or, to snuggle down in the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, crumb-holding recliner?

I opted to get my head down again. But… as I put the stick back in the slot at the side of the chair, I advanced a little too far with my right foot! And, by way of a change, I gave myself a foot stubbing instead of the usual toe!

I ended up sideways on, half-in, half out of the recliner. With something sticking under my bum? Banging my elbow on the way down. Guess what? I’d found the camera, torch and wristwatch all stuck down the side. twixt the cushion and the arm. Hahaha! Well, I thought it was funny, even at the time. I used the camera to take this shot of the foot, but it didn’t come out well – I think mother said that about me. Hehe!
Smiling to myself, I started to disentangle my ungraceful, ungainly, ponderous body to a more sleepable position, got sim-settled, and thought I’d see if I could make out the time, using the torch
As I deemed it to be a quarter past five, I remembered the Ocado order was due from 06:00>07:00hrs! Globblegrumps!

I was soon back up on my painful foot, well, on them both. And started to make room in the fridge for the incoming food to be safely stored. I dropped the two packets of dried beans, and one of them burst open! Another mess to sort out! It’s been an odd morning so far! It got odder! I searched for a screw-lid container the right size for the rescued peas that hadn’t hit the floor to be stored in. And in light, saw that the time was only 04:15hrs? I reckon that Cataract Cathy had fooled into thinking it was five-fifteen when it would mayhaps have been something else?

Med Dioctyl A Ah, of to the Throne. I felt sure that all the peas I had nibbled, along with the Dioctyl, would be enough to get things moving, as I thought they would. But No! Colin Constipation kept a firm grip on the product, and he was not letting anything get through. Painful, but no bleeding.

I surrendered and got on with Health Checks. The Boot’s Sphygmomanometer, manufactured by, ZDEAC (Zhongshan Daguan Electrical Appliance Company Ltd) in Guangdong, China, proferred these results.

The SYS was up again to 152, the DIA 69, and the Pulse down to 79 from yesterday’s high. The body temperature was fine, at 33.8°f.

I popped the resulting figures into the NHS Patient Monitor page. They out me a little higher into the red zone on their graph.
I made up the graphic of me and added it to the jpeg for a bit of humour to share.

Liberty-Global, who owns Virgin Media. Went down for the third time today. This one was for a long time. When it came back on, an hour or two later, it was so slow! I got the graph of Virgin Media downtime in the UK. People writing in were not happy at all. Two areas had no service for a day! Most of them, like me, suffer outages every day. Mind you, BT were nearly as bad. Big Boys Bullying with ridiculous adverts about the ‘stretched’ claims of reliability and being the fastest service available.

What about people on these networks working from home on their computers? Do they get any compensation? BT offer a fantastic bargain… well, they did last year in their TV adverts. £30 a month back if we fail to give you (whatever the speed promised was). Mr Fries, the Liberty-Global Mogul, knows nothing about supplying an internet service, yet he’s bought into other internet companies throughout mainland Europe? Still, he gets his £23 a year salary plus bonuses and expenses.
By his looks, you’d think he was a Godfather in the Mafia, wouldn’t you? I imagine he would be the perfect candidate for the Presidency race? He must have the ambidextrousness, chicanery and flimflam skills needed to flourish as the US president?
Ah, no, I realise now, that would mean him taking a massive pay cut!

The Ocado delivery came just within the hour window. A decent chap; I think he came last time I used Ocado. He carried all the bags into the kitchenette for me as well. That was decent of him!.
I made sure he took a can in thanks.
I got the bottled water delivered this time, all of it.
I’d anticipated many not being available; well, there was none available from Iceland or Sainsbury’s last week. I got the lot, as you can see here on the right, that’ll keep me going for a while. Hahaha!
As I’d just finished stacking the bottles and packs,  down the stack tumbled, landing on my recently damaged foot! Tsk!

But, I didn’t mind, what’s a bit more pain; I merely laughed it off!. No cursing at all… Ahem!
The fridge was soon filled up again. A most comforting site, I must say.
Still, come think of it, it s not as fill as it usually is, and the Carer treats will reduce the contents. Bless ’em, I do insist, you know. Har-har! Ah, I do feel a fool, more to go in in another bag. Bananas, garden peas, some part-baked baguettes, black tomatoes, lemon fools and the delicious but oh, so pricey Marks & Spencers Potato Rosti Cakes, I don’t want to think of what I paid for them, if you don’t mind. The M&S cakes were on offer, and still the most I have ever paid for eight little cakes. What am I doing? I’ll be broke if I go on like this. Body and financially at this rate, and I think I’ve got a Sainsbury order in for a few a day’s time. Oh, dearie me!
I  had to take out Richard’s Monday treats to make room for getting the other stuff in the fridge! I enjoy giving a bit in thanks to a good carer. I popped them in a carrier bag. Richard’s due any time now, so they should keep okay.

I got on the computer, to find that it was down again. Grobblewanks! I’m getting to dislike hocus-pocus Fries all the more. He’s taunting and haunting me!
Arrived and had a chinwag after he’d sorted the medications and checked the medication drawer for stocks, bless him. He had to go a bit sooner than usual; he’s been given an extra call to so. He’s still not sleeping well. I suggested he try out the Hemp for him months ago and bought him a pot; I don’t like to see him all done in. But he thought they were drugs. Wished him a better kip, and he took the bags with him to the waste chute for me.
Herbert gave me a drilling noises concert this time. How he does it so musically amazes me, he even ended with a thud or two to sign off. Hehe!

I think this was the fourth time that £23m a year’s Fries of Liberty-Global has gone down. Not for so long this time, though… but just give him time. You know, there’s a slight chance that he doesn’t even care. or know about his total failure in running an internet Suppliers company? Still, getting that sort of money, he must have some connection with the Mafia, Government or Putin?

I had two of the Royalty Priced lemon iced cakes and a mug of Thompson’s Punjana black tea. Note the tray that holds the cakes? It’s made if wood, I forget which one now, but they are feather light.
Minutes after scoffing, in walked ‘I know best’, Esther. I was just trying to get the Liberty-Global Virgin Media back online at the time. She spoke a lot, mostly from the other room, so I’ve no idea what she was on about, but she didn’t tell me off when she came back in the room… which tells me that two scenarios may be in progress here.
① She was pleased with not getting any answers, so she may have put up the costs she charges, and I will never know.
② Or, she is planning a super-rollicking for me next week and is cunningly formulating now?
She then decided I had not enough clothes dirtied to bother with her washing today. Which may result in an increased cost next week if the laundry bag is too big? Anyway, I played it safe cause I was a little nervous about not getting shouted at, which threw me a bit. I gave her the other two M&S lemon cakes. Scared? Me? You bet I am! Not half!

I spent so long on this blog, having to keep stopping regularly when Mr Fries Liberty-Global Virgin Media kept going down. The evening Carer may come at any time. So I had a nibble of some of the peas I put in the container after the Accifauxpa in the kitchen earlier.
I had to move them away from the computer in the end, I was forever nibbling some, and with Peripheral Pete and Shaking Shoulder Shirley giving me some hassle, there are probably at least a dozen of the dried monster lurking somewhere in the room, ready for me to tread on them. Hehehe!
Hello, a final (I hope) blast from Herbert. Sounded like the hammer and drill were being used in unison? Clever stuff, you know.
Cheeky Charlie, the carer arrived; she’s not been for a while. I’ve missed her. She kindly got the gloves on and ointmentated the swollen toes, a stubbed part of the foot, and the ankle ulcer for me. That was lovely. ♥ The leg and foot felt much betterer afterwards.

Got some food cooking then. Potato Rosti in the oven. Took a photo of it, but it never made it to the SD card? Humph! Anyway, it was good. Rating: 8.2/10. Washed the pots and tittivated the kitchen; and got my head down to watch the England Women v (Nasty, fouling) Sweden Woman match on the box. I’ve not been as proud of an England team’s performance since 1966. Now, will it be France or Germany we face in the final?

After the match, I went to make a brew, and the night sky was begging to be photographed. So I did.
Fantastic! (An almost water-colour-painted) hue.
Argh! The left foot this time, though.
The ointmentated right ankle was looking so calm. Grrreat!
Got my head down, comforted by England’s phenomenal win over the Sweden bully-girls. But anxious, in the event that we face France in the final. I have an EQ-inspired thought that if it is France, it could mean defeat. I pray that Germany wins against France tomorrow night.

Zzz!

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.

TTFN

Inchcock’s Local News Snippets – Issue 33↉

ODE TO CRIME

Some say crime is committed by the riffraff, the social residue,
And we’re all aware this is in itself, true…
Those who escape punishment are often the true blue…
Bankers, the rich can get away with crimes, so often do!
Anteriority and ruling classes are dishonest too…

But get prosecuted? There are so very few!
Worldwide there is deception, greed, murders, a hullabaloo…
For the Grenfell fire, justice is long overdue…
A Tory Council killed so many people, seventy-two!
Over Grenfell, the councillor’s actions are still under review!
It makes my blood boil and stew…

Why no protests? Cause they were immigrants or a Jew?
From Lithuania, India, China, Pakistan, or Timbuktu?
Misleading claims, lies, and cover-ups, for us to misconstrue,
The brave firefighters dejected, hitherto…
Their ladders were too short, they suffered Deja Vu,
The victims and relatives need justice, but from who?
Let’s be honest; prosecutions are long overdue!

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NEWS SNIPPETS

You can see why they needed so many weapons about…
All of their drugs, it’s worth the law to flout?
Bet they drink champagne, and the police on stout,
With so many weapons, they could give Putin a hand-out?
Every gang member, each one a lout!
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Well, these angelic little Angels would tempt most waverers on the bringing back hanging to reconsider! Don’t they look nervous?
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Can anyone help them?
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He was feeling a little depressed. This can happen to anyone…
Defending himself, is he an arrogant paragon arrogant?
Obviously, money-mad, being a plastic surgeon,
Why not an EENT man, cancer, or psychosurgeon?
Mayhaps he drinks champagne by the flagon?
Has an evening meal of caviar and sturgeon?
His hopes of being found innocent? A smidgeon!
If so, he can run away and start surgery in the Yukon!
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I hope this murdering scumball is not getting paid for his appearance on Gogglebox? I’d bet that he is!
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An Uber spokesperson said: “The safety of riders and drivers is a top priority for Uber, and this is a concerning report. We will investigate this incident.”
Must be more to this, worra you think?
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Result in the minus for the first time in a while!
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Inchcock continues to fail to win in the free Play-To-Win competition!
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These are the latest available records of Nottingham Violent Crime Statistics.
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ODE of UNRELATED THOUGHTS

Peripheral Neuropathy has made me ambisinister.
We’ve got Rishi or Lizzie for Prime Minister…
Either one could prove to be sinister,
I was never much of a student or educator…
But I self-taught myself later…
Which was a disaster…
He hated me… the headmaster,
On the balcony last night, I thought I saw Jupiter,
Taking 10-minutes of wee-weeing; makes me loopier…
Do you think my Arithmophobia…
Would it stop me from getting a job as a croupier?
I think my memory is getting more forgettier!
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Keep Safe.
Cheers!

Inchcock Today: Diary & Odes

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Inchcock Today: Diary & Odes

I woke up late,
In a bit of a state,
Began to anticipate,
Thought Storms, accelerate,
Get up? No, I’ll wait…
Sunday emptied meal plate…
I need to concentrate,
Get up; I’d sooner hibernate,
I moved; Cor blimey mate…
Passing wind, I’ll have to fumigate,
Waking up is so vermiculate…
The thoughts were not articulate…
Plans, thoughts began to verbigerate,
The belly wobbled, so I’m overweight,
Get up? How I procrastinate…
Getting up then, got to, to urinate!
Porcelain Throne needed, can’t hesitate…

Put my spectacles on, grabbed the walking stick,
The pain from the right knee was chronic,
Little Inchy’s Fungal Lesion was haemorrhagic,
The evacuation was messy and slick…
Will today also be another depressogenic?

Despite my losing two pictures last night from the SD card, I tried again to take shots of the sun setting. I should not have been able to because I should have been asleep, But the Thought Storms paid to any hopes of my drifting off, sleeping, or getting any rest. Humph!
Still, they came out alrightish.
I pondered the problems with the Canon camera and decided to look at Amazon to see what it would cost me to buy a replacement one of the same model. That idea is a definite no-go, after seeing the prices had gone up over 20%! I typed in, ‘Canon SX 740 HS, 40x zoom’. I got the same camera as I bought from Amazon last year, but the £189.99 cost then, is now over £280! Of course, I could have purchased several of them without testing the bank balance…
My Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, a contactless thermometer, showed a decent result again, at 34.0°c. I imagine the hot weather has helped?
The Boot’s Blood Pressure machine’s sphygmomanometerisationing resulted in a third day on the trot of the SYS being in the 140s range. At least it’s not shot up to anything silly like it usually does on a Monday. There’ll be a reason for that, of course. But why on Mondays still baffles me? Mayhaps it is because I dislike Sundays… I don’t know.

I looked at the great puffer clouds displayed in the sky, and I took a photograph of them. But, yet again, the mysteries of Winwood Heights, the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodemons, apparitions and other grotesqueries that haunt the hallways, flats and lobbies, searching for Inchcock to create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare, worry and confuse me! Humph! Both shots had disappeared from the SD card! 
Painful teggie-cleaning, but the bottom front tooth is still hanging by a single nerve thread. Hahaha! Shaving that went well, only one tiny nick under the chin. The showering went decently as well. No Dizzy Dennis’s, no knocks, bangs or tumbles. Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley was the only hassle, and she didn’t last for long. An even greater
Ah, well, yer can’t win ’em all! Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, Haemorrhoid Harold, and Cartilage Cathy were all tender, to put it mildly. As usual, the Fungal Lesion medicationing gave me the most actual pain. But still a good session overall. I went into the front room to tend to the burnt knuckle and Ankle Ulcer, as it is a lot lighter to see there.
The burn mark had changed colour again, looking a little prettier already. Hahaha! It soon started to dry up a little later, so no ointmentationalisationing was needed.
I just rubbed in sine Germolene on the ankle ulcers; they didn’t need proper medicationalisationing this time. But, Cartilage Cathy, on the other hand, was so delicate that I rubbed in some of the MedPhorpainPhorpain gel; at least she is easier to reach to tend to things. Har-har!

I’ll take an extra painkiller when Care Richards arrives, methinks.

Carer Richard came, and, I remembered to take the extra Co-codamol. Richard had a look at the prescription levels in stock. Getting a few of these in today, am I not?
Computing, and the most auspicious gentleman above, kicked off with the tap-tapping, with the odd clunk thrown into the mix.

           ♫ Happiness, happiness, the greatest gift that I posses ♫
♫ I thank the Lord that I’ve been blessed ♫
♫ With more than my share of happiness
! ♫
When Jillie comes, I want to beat my chest…
No doubt about it, Jillie is the best...
Now I’m at my Happiest! ♥

We nattered laughingly,
Cause Jillie is lovely,
Caring, kind and has adopted me…
I’m her Uncle now, you see…
Oh… Glory Be!

After Jillie had departed, I was refreshed at just seeing her again, and decided to treat myself to a bowl of Vegan ice cream. A great big half-a-pot dollop of delight! I sprinkled it with some ‘Silver Balls’. I shall not bother with them again. My poor old teeth! Hehe! I fell asleep, a deep yet, apparently dream-filled one.
The evening carer arrived to wake me up with the loud tune of ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ from the door chime. I was half asleep, and recall very little of the visit. I just hope I had my trousers on. Within minutes of her departure, I was back in the land of nod; contentedly after Jillie’s visit. I sprang awake around 23:00hrs, in need of a wee-wee.
I found the reminder notes on the pad, about the dreams I’d had. I’ll try to decipher them in the morning.
I put the kettle on for a mug of Thompson’s Punjana Tea, and the view from the kitchenette window caught my attention. Especially the blue cloudless evening sky. Although even to my bad cataracted eyes, it looked so beautiful. Unfortunately, the photo didn’t turn out as attractively as the real thing. This often happens, shame really.
Well, after the brew drinking, I decided to get this blog finished
.

TTFN each, have a good sleep! Especially HRH Petal-Lisa, who is struggling to get her rest in. Bless her! ♥♥♥

Inchcock Today: Monday 13th June 2022

13th June 2022

LOCAL NEWS SNIPPETS

Apparently, he also had charges pending for arson,
Drug supplying, TWOC and mugging with aggression,
He resisted arrest in June, giving a PC an abrasion…
Which bled, and the PC needed a blood transfusion,
Some good news, although he was bitten by a police Alsatian!

Luke Riley was jailed for 18 years; what are the chances?
Guilty of 11 child sex offences… it brings hatred & tears!
Including two counts of rape of a child under 13 years!
The Parole board’ll free the swine after 10, sad dears,
To enable him to rape again, of course…
They’re as guilty as he is, but what is worse…
For another child, it’ll prove disastrous…
Parole namby-pambies deserve some adverse…
Black Magic, hexing, a witches curse,
Locking up, hanging, at least something mortiferous!

No mention of Brayan’s admission of getting 139 illegals into Nottingham last year. No doubt he runs ten properties in the Nott’m area, which is all owned on paper by his Sister back in the city of Kirkuk in south Kurdistanin, and them being room rented out… Ah, Gorrit! Bet he’s shopped on the bosses of the slave trade? That’ll be why they have been treated so lightly for the despicable crimes they have committed? Profiteering by getting the poor lost souls into the country hidden in vans, and making them pay through the nose for years! Gits!

His defence? Almighty God wanted me there! I wouldn’t have thought that Putin would be too bothered?

I bravely hung out of the window this morning…
To take this photo, it was cold, I was shaking…
I hurried it, all done in a twinkling,
But, getting back in, Glaucoma Gladys was itching…
The hospital told me there’s to be no scratching!
The Cataract left eye, not even any touching…
So, I stubbed my toe instead… Hello, the mobile’s ringing?
Who can this be a three o’clock in the morning?

The message above, you see, was somewhat confusing…
I thought the tune was a telephone ring…
But no, definitely someone was texting.
Was this genuine, or was someone hacking?
Mayhaps a cold-caller pestering?
A con-job, this’ll need careful handling?
Carer Richard’s due in two hours; I’m praying…
He’s the lad to help, no quibbling!

It was getting lighter later but not much brighter,
Shut the window, trapped finger… blood blister!
Dropped the ointment and trod on it in a fluster,
But my bravery, I did muster…
Proud, I felt like a boshter!

Three visits, over £2,500 worth of stock filtered…
Had they not caught him, he’d have made a fortune!
Luckily they got him as he faltered…
He’ll be out on parole by the end of June…
To carry on, and Wilko will be pilfered!…

He punctures a stranger’s lungs, fractured his sternum, stabbed him in his chest, he’s on drugs of course – and what do the good old protect the public Crown Court turnips give him for this unprovoked attack? 10 months in Young Offenders holiday camp!!! Then tell him he’ll only serve half of the sentence and be released on licence… I can help but remember the 30 murderers who were released early and all killed again! The 44 early release prisoners who raped again! The 9 who stabbed again… the 11 who raped again… And my biggest hatred, the overpaid yet inept Parole Board scumbags who allowed these to happen – they should be found guilty of the offences of their freed early prisoners!

Just thought I’d mention it.

COVID

FIGURE UP?

Inchcock Meal Snippet News

Chips: passable
Turnips: Undercooked
Mushrooms: Nicely seasoned for once
Tomatoes: Okay
Gherkins: Good
Pickle Balls: Enjoyed them
Apple: Too hard for the teeth to cope
Strawberry dessert: Too sweet
Veggie Hot Dogs: Terrible binned them

SAD LATE NEWS

e-scooters: Eleven deaths and over 1000 injuries were reported across England, Scotland and Wales last year. The use of privately-owned e-scooters on public roads is illegal. The figures alone should be enough for the Government (sic) to act on this.

The poor woman’s family do not want any bother or attention, and they have asked to be left alone, to mourn.

What with these e-scooter killings and injuries, the repeated releasing of killers & rapists early by the Parole Board, who murder and rape again… It baffles me.

Keep Safe Out There!

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HMP Nottingham Facts + Local News Snippets

‘Whole-life’ sentences: They’ll never be released

Ever since the death penalty was abolished in 1965, people in England and Wales who have committed murder have been given mandatory life sentences. However, there is usually a minimum tariff within those life sentences indicating how many years the prisoner should serve before being considered for parole. Across the country, only around 70 prisoners are serving ‘whole-life’ sentences where they will never be released.

Below is a list of some of the killers the Post has reported on who have been given life with a minimum of at least 20 years since 2007. We haven’t included anyone serving their time abroad, such as Neil Entwistle, the Worksop man doing life without parole in the US for killing his wife and daughter.

Peter Brown (below) of Main Street, Kimberley – 40 years for stabbing Darran Lancashire in Kimberley and stabbing Brian Flaherty in Lenton six days later. He was sentenced in 2010, and three years later, he confessed to a third murder of a fellow inmate at HMP Parkhurst on the Isle of Wight back in 1994.

Peter Brown

Simon Palmer of Edwin Street, Daybrook – 33 years for the murder of Tony Fisher. The 43-year-old was part of a gang of four men who broke into Mr Fisher’s home in Carlton, before torturing and then murdering him to steal jewellery and between £10,000 and £14,000 in cash. See also Marcus Barton (below). (Sentenced in 2017)

Marcus Barton (left) and Simon Palmer
Marcus Barton (right) and Simon Palmer 

Michael Furniss of no fixed address – 32 years and 11 months for the murder of Andrew Dosiuk in Arnold. (2014)

Damien Fogo of Hungerhill Gardens, St Ann’s – 32 years for shooting Germaine Edwards in Bilborough. (2013)

Peter Smith (left) of West Hill, Skegby, 30 years for bludgeoning neighbour Hilda Owen in Skegby after writing her will and leaving everything to him. He was sentenced in 2008, and his conviction was later overturned, but in 2012 he was found guilty of her murder for the second time, this time receiving life with a minimum of 27 years.

Peter Smith

Peter Jacques of Charlesworth Street, Bolsover – 28 years for stabbing Nigel Bacon near Clumber Park. He was sentenced in 2009, and a year later, the minimum term was reduced to 26 years on appeal.

Robert Marcinkiewicz-Szukowski (below) of Rossington Road, Sneinton – 27 years for the murder of Bogdan Nawrocki, whose body has never been found. (2015)

Robert Marcinkiewicz-Szukowski
Robert Marcinkiewicz-Szukowski

Marcus Barton of Raymede Drive, Bestwood Estate -25 years for the murder of Tony Fisher in Carlton. (2017)

Paul Hutchinson (below) of Stockgill Close, Gamston – 25 years for the murder of Nott’s schoolgirl Colette Aram in 1983. He killed himself in prison nine months after being jailed for her murder. (2010)

Paul Hutchinson

Susan Edwards (below) of Dagenham, Essex – 25 years for the 1998 shooting of her parents, William and Patricia Wycherley in Forest Town. (2014)

Susan Edwards

Christopher Edwards (above) of Dagenham, Essex – 25 years for the 1998 shooting of his father-in-law and mother-in-law William and Patricia Wycherley in Forest Town. (2014)

Christopher Edwards

Kathryn Smith of Sandfield Drive, Annesley – 24 years for murdering her 21-month-old daughter Ayeeshia. She has appealed against her 2016 conviction, with a decision due later this year.

Jonathan Jones of Barbury Drive, Clifton – 24 years for stabbing John Parker in St Ann’s. (2015)

Susan Bacon of Keeper’s Cottage, near Clumber Park – 24 years for the murder of her gamekeeper husband, Nigel Bacon. (2009)

Rene Sarpong (below) of Lamartine Street, St Ann’s – 22 years for the 2002 shooting of 16-year-old Brendon Lawrence in St Ann’s. (2010)
Rene Sarpong

Michael Bacon of Wordsworth Avenue, Mansfield Woodhouse – 21 years for the murder of his mum’s husband, Nigel Bacon. (2009)

James McCarthy of Collyer Road, Calverton – 21 years for killing Julie Semper in Mapperley. (2015)

Jemelle Rodney of Mitcham, Surrey – 20 years for stabbing Nathan Somers in Newark. (2013)

Shane Guest

Shane Guest (right) of Austin Close, Mansfield – 20 years for stabbing former school friend Thomas Alderson in Mansfield. (2010)

Of course, not all of the longest sentences have been handed out to people who have been guilty of murder. Bestwood crime lord Colin Gunn was given 35 years in 2006 for conspiracy to murder Joan and John Stirland in Lincolnshire. John Russell of Northcote Way, Bulwell, was jailed for a minimum of 30 years, and Michael McNee, of no fixed address, was jailed for at least 25 years after both were also found guilty of conspiring to murder the Stirlands. And Gary Hardy of the Copse, Mansfield, was given 20 years in 2008 for conspiracy to supply heroin and amphetamines, money laundering and possession of criminal property.

More Detail on Nottingham Prison…

16 NOTTINGHAM PRISON ESCAPEES!

ALFIE HINDS: Alfred – also known as Alfie-Hinds, was the most famous escapee. Hinds was jailed for 12 years following a £38,000 cash and jewellery robbery in London’s Tottenham Court Road in 1953. But in November 1955, he and another inmate, burglar Patrick Fleming, escaped from Nottingham Prison in Perry Road. The two men had obtained a duplicate key to the prison carpenter’s shop, and they hid there until it was time for their bid for freedom. They stacked wooden window frames and lengths of timber on top of each other, and scaled the pile to reach the top of the 20ft wall.

Once over the wall and into the prison playing field, they used the timber again to get over a lower wall on the other side of the fields. They then broke through a wire fence to escape to the nearby housing estate. The two men got clean away. For the next few months, Hinds was on the run, but he still found time to write letters to newspapers protesting his innocence of the robbery. Fleming was the first to be recaptured, but it was not until August 1956 that 38-year-old Hinds were found in Dublin – 245 days after escaping. (That, however, wasn’t the end of it.

During a High Court appearance in 1957, he escaped from the building and made it all the way to London Airport, where he was arrested on a plane about to take off for Dublin. He broke out of Chelmsford Prison and lived in Belfast for two years before being recaptured. He was released from prison in 1964 and died in 1991.)

Well, you’ve got to admire his determination?

FIVE PRISONERS (1963): Remember the film Porridge where the prisoners escaped during a football match? In August 1963, five prisoners escaped through the wire fence at Nottingham Prison – and the break-out happened during a cricket coaching session on the prison sports ground.

Three of the men escaped in an Austin Cambridge car waiting for them on the grounds of the City Hospital. Police drafted in extra men and tracker dogs to search for the five men, all serving sentences of between seven and eight years for burglary offences. Sadly, the Post archives do not readily indicate when or how they were found.

THREE PRISONERS 1963: It seems late 1963 was a prime time for escape – perhaps something to do with the Great Train Robbery capturing the imagination in August that year (incidentally, train robbers Gordon Goody, Thomas Wisbey and Roy James were held in Nottingham Prison before they were transferred to Parkhurst). In September of that year, three men escaped from Nottingham prison by scrambling over the prison wall.

Police believed that once free of the prison grounds, the men stole a Humber Super Snipe from the car park at Nottingham City Hospital. Again, police set up roadblocks around the city and tracker dogs were used in a bid to capture the trio, all in their mid-30s. They also checked pubs and cinemas around the city. But there is no news on what happened to the men, who served eight-year terms for various offences, including receiving stolen goods and breaking and entering.

20-year-old man (1965): This was an example of the classic ‘escape when they take you to hospital’ technique. On August 31, 1965, a 20-year-old man serving three years for theft and house-breaking was taken to Nottingham City Hospital for a routine X-ray examination. But at the hospital, he managed to get rid of his escort and escape through a bedroom window and onto the roof. He was recaptured and returned to Nottingham Prison after being seen on a rooftop in Old Radford.
Police called out Nottingham Fire Brigade, who sent an engine with two ladders to block the escape routes on either side. Policemen shone torches on the man – who was said to be “running like a cat along the rooftops” – and he was recaptured.

Six prisoners (1982): This was such a serious breakout that questions were asked in the House of Commons about how it had been allowed to happen. It involved six men who Home Secretary Willie Whitelaw would later describe as ‘not dangerous’. However, one was serving a life sentence for murder, and the others were serving sentences of between three years and 30 months for a range of offences. However, because they were nearing release – with the convicted murderer about to be transferred to an open prison – they were accommodated in unlocked Nissen huts about 15ft from the perimeter wall.

Just before midnight on July 11, they bolted three-bed frames together to make a ladder, used sheeting to make a rope, and escaped over the wall. Three men were captured in Luton within a few hours, and two more on July 14.

But when Nottingham North MP William Whitlock raised the escape in the House of Commons on July 19, the murderer was still on the run. Mr Whitelaw told him that a report about the escape was being written but that all six men were eligible to be housed in the less-secure huts. Remarkably, the flight over the wall was actually witnessed by another prisoner in the middle of a rooftop protest and hunger strike when it happened. Martin Foran spent 47 days on the prison roof protesting that he was innocent of the charges of armed robbery he had been jailed for, having been convicted in 1978 following an investigation by the now-discredited West Midlands Serious Crime Squad. His wife, who said that he was being unfairly treated because he was Irish, reportedly scaled a nearby roof in a show of solidarity. Mr Foran said he had watched the escape of the six prisoners but had refused to join them. His conviction was quashed in 2014. Abbott later pleaded guilty to wounding concerning the bar attack and escaping custody, aggravated vehicle taking, driving while disqualified and driving without insurance. He was jailed for a total of four years and one month.

A FEW LOCAL NEWS SNIPPETS BONUS

A neighbour shot the rat after taking the photo.

I was dubious in inputting the above of poor Diana on the blog. But decided I felt so sorry for her. As if the lady had not gone through enough already, this had happened to her.

I felt as if I should. 

Inchcock’s Local New Snippets – Issue 33⅓rd

Discuss the case? Pal of Putin?

So, you stab someone in the middle of the day,
Then walk cursing, but casually away…
You get arrested, to your complete dismay,
Charged with a bladed weapon, they say…
They may also charge you with causing an affray.
And you’re released on bail the same day?
What is all this futile legal foppery?

So, a fine will be nothing; she gets £76,500+ a year,
Expenses on top, bet she’s not feeling toeier!
Coming out of court, she looked full of cheer?
Perhaps she’s going to see the judge for a beer?

Oddlimost, no name of the arrested personage. I can’t see one for the victim, either. This is not going to be a straightforward case!

Robbing, hitting in the face, for chocolates, never?
Is he a Putin spy working undercover?
No permanent home, so a bit of a rover?
He doesn’t look thick, but clever?
Likely he’s a cunning conniver…
He should’ve gotten a job and become an achiever!
Instead of getting himself into all that bovver…
No job involving a hammer, knife or screwdriver!
Perhaps in jail, he’ll train to be a basket weaver?
Or find Christ, and become a believer?
Then he just might stop being a skiver?

The man may have been telling the truth at a whim,
But somehow, I feel a little sympathy for him…
His Mrs giving a verbal onslaught to Darren,
He felt depressed, feeling sick to the brim…
He escaped her nagging, if only for a minim…
And the police went a gorrim!

Drunk or not, he should not have been carrying a knife – that should have been five years for the scumball in a proper prison on its own! Four years in a young offenders’ institution? Pathetic! He’s capable of getting drunk and threatening a woman and child with a knife. A coward, although he no doubts believes he’s not.

Mr Woodall knew alleged killer Campbell through his stepsons Kieran and Joshua – with the three men meeting while they served jail terms at HMP Birmingham. All defendants lived in Nottingham. Mr Heywood added. Mr Woodall lived ‘like a hermit’ on the industrial estate, where he had been renting a unit for about 14 years. The three murder-accused men answered no comment during their police interviews, jurors have been told. McGhee gave officers a prepared statement in which he said: “I have no knowledge of the attack on Carl Woodall and played no part in any attack upon him. I’m not responsible for his death or assaulting him. I do not know who he is.”

Tongue-in-cheek response

Hahaha!

UPDATE

Judge Gregory QC: “It will be a prison sentence, of course,”
Vitoldas Platakis, who showed not a sign of remorse…
Killed Valdamara Zemaitiene, not intending to, of course…
They were partners, so there could be no divorce…
He battered her many times, as a matter of course…
He suggested they were having intercourse?
Unintentionally killed her… my arse!.

I’d have liked to win a £260 Amazon gift card…
Thinking I might win one day, I was blinkered…
Freeing oneself from defeat can be awkward,
Success for me is like custard and mustard…
I used to think before my life was completed…
Just once, that failure be temporarily deleted,
If I was to have a win, I would be riveted!
Anyway, my hopes and prayers were not answered!
So now my wishes, not placated, I vacated…
The world of dreams lies ruined and splattered…
But not winning owt, I refuse to be angered,
I can now work on getting other hopes decluttered!

LATE SNIPPET FLASH!

Released while an investigation takes place…
A man who carries a knife, the law, is in a malaise…
Freed, no danger… what if he stabs and slays?
A lot of stabbings in Nottingham; I’m amazed,
Attacking an eighty-year-old? It dismays…
I hope he gets a good fine and serves 5000 days!

Hehehe!

TTFNski, each!