Irritating Inchie, Saturday 16th January 2021 – Diary

TFZers Planning their Shopping Expedition after lockdown?

Inchcock’s Tips & Advice on gerrin’ o’der, fer Whippersnappers

Saturday 16th January 2021

Finnish: Lauantaina 16 Tammikuuta 2021

01:35hrs: I slowly stirred back into life, of sorts. A sudden, almost panic began, from somewhere I thought that something was wrong in the kitchen! No smells, I don’t think. I struggled out of the c1968 recliner, and I limped to the kitchenette but found nothing untoward, and I had a good look around, windows shut, taps not running… was it a dream?

I was not properly balanced, so I took my time and returned to the main junk room. Thought were coming pretty fast into the brain, but leaving at the same rate of knots.

I got my Myanmar, (Burmese) made zip-up jacket on. Changed into the reading glasses, had a weak wee-wee, washed my hands, and started the Health Checks. The Chinese made Harpin Xian Di contactless thermometer reading was fine, at 36.6°c.

♫ I really can’t stay, Baby it’s cold outside, I gotta go away, Baby it’s cold outside, This evening has been, Been hoping that you’d dropped in, So very nice, I’ll hold your hands they’re just like ice ♫… Sorry about that, I got carried away!

Pleasingly, the Chinese manufactured Boot’s Sphygmomanometer SYS was not too high compared to earlier readings, at 156. And, the pulse was steady at 85.

I nipped back into the kitchen to get a made-up bottle of spring water and lime cordial.

I opened the window, Gawd it was cold out there… (♫ I really can’t stay, Baby it’s cold outside, I gotta go away, Baby it’s cold outside, This evening has been, Been hoping that you’d dropped in, So very nice, I’ll hold your hands they’re just like ice ♫…) Sorry about that, I got carried away!☺

I snapped this photograph of Chestnut Way’s car park in front of the building, below. Back to the computer, taking another weak-wee-wee en route, and back on the computer.

I determinedly pressed on with the updating of the Friday Diary. Got it finished, although it took me longer than usual with interruptions to Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, on and off repeatedly for periods of a few seconds, up to a full minute. But I resisted going into a Smug-Mode, after yesterday’s experiences.

All done at long last Hurrah!), then I posted it off to WordPress, emailed the link. Had a weak wee-wee, washed, returned and Pinterested some bits, and went on the Facebooking updating on the TFZ site, then the Woodthorpe Heights. Spent a good while on there, and went on the WordPress-Reader section. Had a weak-wee-wee. Washed my hands and went on the WP commenting.

Belatedly, I made a start on this post. Stopped to make a brew, have a weak-wee-wee, wash my hands, and took the morning medications (It was grand to be able to take an extra pain-killer, thanks to the unknown, kind donor, who posted some through my door yesterday, thanks again!)

I got an inspiration to write the Advice funny at the top of this page, well, second graphic down. I made it up and did it with a graphic. It’s nowhere near my best work, but for some reason, I found it so zanily humorous, so kept it in. I hope people like it and get a laugh. If anyone does, I’ll offer it to the Tate Gallery for a modest fee. Hahaha!

I lost a lot of time already with my getting sidetracked, but did it again, and went on a hunt for Alt codes to use. I found a few and put them on the Notepad for later.

Hello, some more comments have come in, I’ll have a decker. Just the two, replied to them and went to make another mug of tea, and had another weak-wee-wee! I reckon I’ve missed a Furesomide in the medicational muddle?

I then went on CorelDraw to get some template graphics done, I’m well behind with them. Crockledimdogs! Another visit to the wet room, Blimus!

Back to CorelDrawing, and within a minute into working, and the door chimes rang out.

It was the postman, bringing the Amazon sold razors. A box of 200 razors in packs of five. Outstanding value, too.

Back to the CorelDrawing.

: Having done only one graphic, CorelDraw Problems, or rather, I created CorelDraw problems! Or, maybe a more accurately, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters caused me CorelDraw problems! I lost the document palette! The nerve ends died as I was trying to move the palette, and I lost it altogether. I was getting more and more frustrated, I could not remember how to move palettes with the mouse, spent hours trying this and that in the options and customisation sections, getting nowhere with it.

Sister Jane

Then the landline burst forth flashing. Sister Jane, calling. I took this photo a couple of years ago of her, in the Nottingham Slab Square.

We had a long chinwag, ashamedly I could not concentrate properly with worrying about the CorelDraw problems. I learnt what I was doing wrong, as is natural when she calls me, Big Sister, you see. (Hahaha!) I

was eating the wrong foods, going to bed too early, and other things I can’t remember, 

In the morning, I added this photo of her and Pete’s visitors in their garden. A family of Squirrels that have taken up residence nearby. They call twice every day for their treats on monkey nuts.

Back to the nightmare with the computer. I went on the web asking for help, and it took me three hours of differently formulated questions, to find a DVD that helped with the problem. Another hour of farting about getting it wrong, and suddenly I got the palette back, but it was empty!

I lost more time trying to sort this out and gave up. I was frustrated, and so wee’d off! And the weariness was coming on.

I gave up on computing, my hopes and plans destroyed! Ah, well, I turned off the computer and got some nosh sorted out. As I got the Ghilli-Con-Carne, red peppers and tomatoes in the saucepan, oh dearie me…

All of the Peripheral Neuropathy related ailments all kicked-in, well not all of them. No leg dancing, loss of balance but SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley), Shaking Shaun, and Cathy Cartilage gave me what for!

A nasty bout, this one, but thank goodness it was a short one. I was growing more tired than ever now. But I pressed on and got the meal served up. I overdid the quantity a bit, and couldn’t eat all of the rolls, but destroyed the CCC and potatoes. A taste-rating was a worthy 8/10.

Washed and got the jammie-bottoms on, and down in the £300, second-hand, decrepit, c1968, rickety recliner, and turned on the TV, I can’t remember what it was I was going to watch, but I failed to anyway – blissfully! Off into the land of Sweet Morpheus, I drifted in no time at all. Zzzz!

An hour or so later, I sprang wide-awake, as if I’d just had an electric shock! The realisation that the Prescriptions were being delivered today bounding about in my head! Sheer alarm and panic gripped my and hastened by the bulbous wobbly body from the recliner, with the intentions of getting to the front door post-haste to see if they had been put through the door for me, as it was well past the normal delivery time.

Unfortunately, as I got in the hallway, I instead hastened down on my knees to the floor, and the right leg knee, (Cartilage Cathy’s) gave way. There was no time for self-pitying, I hauled my enormous girth back up onto my feet…

And I crumpled down again! This time, I crawled into the wet room and dolloped a load of Phorpain gel all around the patella. Then used the shower chair to get my bulk back up on my feet again. All the time, worrying about the prescriptions milling about in my head.

I got to the flat’s door, there was not anything outside or inside medicine wise. Had he or she been and left? Will they be coming later? I put the facemask on, in case anyone did come, and thought I’d check the mobile and email to see if the chemist had been and had sent a message… Panicking a bit here, but still found time to fit a spot of nervousness in about the CorelDraw problem! Come one worry – Come all! Hehe!

Moments later, the intercom rang out, it was Carrington Pharmacy owner, Deepak BSc Pharm Hons, delivering my prescriptions for me. For once, thank heavens he was late, else I might have been asleep otherwise, Phew! He dropped the prescription pack in a box, on the floor for me, and I thanked him. Nice to be told I was not looking very well. Hehehe! Bless him.

Once I took them to the kitchen to sort out, I realised that Cathy Cartilage was really giving me some stick, although it was my own fault for falling on her twice! Flibbledonkackles!

Ah, well, life may not be exactly suant, and I may be in pain, CorelDraw is worrying me, but after a quick Silver-Lining Search: Things could be much worse. I got the prescriptions delivered, Cathy Cartilage is already getting less painful, I had a marvellous CCC for dinner, Duodenal Donald and Anne Gyna have both been kind to me today. Yep, things are good! Who am I kidding!

Back down in the recliner, it took a while, but sleep did return.

Inchcock’s Escape from Lock-down, No.7, to town. Pictographically

Nervously, I departed, my beloved Woodthorpe Court,

Wondering, if I really ought,

But off I poddled, my expectancies at nought,

Taking my quandaries, feeling relatively taut,

My nerves on edge and tension straught!

The bus-ride was painful and tense, oh, golly!

Feet under the wheels as brakes,

As I sat holding the trolley,

Then I got the nervous shakes,

Sure I would overspend my lolly!

Got to town, and nearly got ran over,

Cold, I wished I’d put on an extra pullover,

A van nearly hit me, moreover,

I swore at the man to show I was no pushover!

I made my way to the Poundsaver store,

Searching for milk tubs, Frazzles and more,

The knee gave way, and I ended up on the floor,

Some ladies, got me up, Gawd I was sore,

They had milk, but I got Frazzles & more,

Paid and left, with a bank balance more, poor!

I had a walk around the City Centre,

Limping now, I felt even ancienter,

The coffee shops looked full, but I’m not a frequenter,

Then one of the Pavement cyclist’s flew by,

If I could, I’d have given him a smack in the eye!

I never saw a policeman. I wonder why?

It looked like rain in the sky,

So I went inside, to keep myself dry!

The Exchange arcade, it was barren of folk,

So many retailers, closed-down, a pig-in-a poke,

Rent £78,000 per annum, it’s no joke,

Service Charge £17,144, what lady or bloke,

Who can afford this? No wonder they’ve gone broke!

The drizzle hadn’t come, so out I went,

Some time in Slab Square, I spent,

Street sleepers, yobboes, arguing, but no police sent,

My frustrations I wanted to vent,

The knee hurting, my money spent,

Getting home to Codeines was my intent!

To the Queen Street bus-stop,

Struggling with my purchases from the shop,

On to the L9 bus I did hop,

Well, struggled, and into the seat did flop,

I was so glad when we got to the Winwood Heights stop!

I alighted the bus, well, fell off of it,

I did feel a right twit!

No injuries, I felt tired, but quite fit,

Off to Woodthorpe Court, I did flit!

Not a soul in sight, for a talk,

So I struggled along Chestnut Walk,

No much thinking en route, the brain had lost its torque!

Into the decorative, welcoming lobby, I did walk!

I tooketh a photo, getting into the lift,

Can’t be accused today, of being a spendthrift!

I’d bought some pressies and a Christmas gift,

I was feeling proud, not peeved or tift,

For once, my thoughts were not all adrift,

There weren’t any at all if you get my drift?

I’d seen folk arguing, and one shoplift,

And yet, I didn’t feel in the slightest miffed!

Frazzled, I’m glad to say – Yes! Hehehe!

Inchcocks 6th Lockdown Escape – To the Pharmacy

Offlymuch I went, I did,
To fetch my Fenbid-40 & MacroBid,
And a tube of Fenbid,
Although it cost me my health and a few quid!

The road was blocked by traffic parked on the pavement,
But I didn’t relent,
A passing car missed me,
To the floor, I nearly went!
Down Winchester Street,
It was a brave feat,
The brakes don’t work…
I carried on, my mission to complete!
More trouble on Hood Street,
Blocked pavement again,
But I an not to be beat!
Went on the road again, such a pain!
Got on Mansfield Road near Rhodes,
But where were the folks?
No muggers, bikers or Schaghticokes,
I think I’ll buy some Artichokes!
I stopped to look down Hadyn Road for a while,
Little traffic, few people that made me smile,
I moved on after a while,
Realised I’d forgot to take my mobile!
Started up the hills,
To fetch my pills,
To cure my ills,
Up ahead, the cottages and vills!
Aha, a Pavement Cyclist was seen!
He scowled at me, he didn’t seem too keen,
On my putting him in my camera screen,
His face looked a little adamantean!
Over down the hill to Carrington,
A place of muggings, violent action,
Blimey, my poetry is terribly bad…
What’s your reaction?
Got near the Chemist shop, a little late,
The retailer shops looking in a bad state,
I wonder, what is their fate,
Bankruptcy, for you mate!
I entered the Chemist shop straight away,
No welcoming smile, did they display,
I wished I was far away,
I tried to look happy, appear to be gay,
My emotions were in disarray,
Got the tablets, and I was away!
I called at Lidle, to get some food, spend my brass,
Noticed, the yobboes had smashed the window glass,
Coronavirus, made the yobboes mad and crass?
Did someone think the glass, a canvas?
Was it done by some drunken dumbass?
Done by a gang of anti-maskers, out to kickass?
Good job the window was made of plexiglass!

I must apologise for the patheticness of this rhyme,

But writing it, I was unwell at the time,

Anne Gyna, stopped me feeling sublime,

My future as a poet is not worth a dime,

But I’ll try to get it better next time!

A simple bus ride to fetch my Spectacles – Not on your life, talk about things going wrong. Humph!

A simple bus ride to fetch my Spectacles

Not on your life, talk about things going wrong!

The things you will read on this so-called true-funny blog of mine,

Really are true, and challenge my sanity  and mind,

Please persist reading, and you will find,

Why I have logicality, hopelessness and despondencies entwined!

Off to Sherwood to collect my glasses,

I’ll call on Jenny and Doris, such lovely lasses,

I’ll leave them a treat, containing molasses,

Might get a chinwag with whoever passes?

 ———————————————

Caught the lift down with no problem at all,

Left the bag, hope they have a ball,

Returned to lift lobby hall,

Catching the elevator, not easy at all,

I was so frustrated and appalled,

25 minutes later, the lift responded to my call!

 ———————————————

Rushing out to Chestnut Walk, slipped and broke my shoe,

Clouted it on the walker’s wheel, surely there is some good luck due?

But what made me saddest, was the bus had departed, early too!

So, all het-up now, I legged-it, passed-wind, and feared wanting a poo!

 ———————————————

On Winchester Street, The walker ran away from me,

I chased it, and is facticity,

I wedged it against a box for electricity,

To take this phot, but not with enough adequacy,

I stopped it again but with inefficacity,

No doubt about it, this was going to be a trip of paucity!

———————————————

I got down the hill, energy’s what I did lack,

I must get the bus up the hill going back,

I called on two shops to get cleaner and a snack,

Off to the optician’s, the one drawback,

I was wearing a sort of anorak,

I was so hot, but didn’t hold back,

Got in the shop, and took the receptionist flak,

I was late, it seems was her crack!

———————————————

I had a long wait to be seen,

Not that I was all that keen,

£300 to pay, never again to be seen,

Crosswording while I waited,

The receptionist called me to be seen,

The lady dealt with me, glasses were fitted,

I got quite jolly-fully contented and witted,

Until it came time to pay, the nI was fritted!

I’d forgotten my pin number again,

I think the lady thought of me; “What a Pain!”

From crying out loud, I did refrain,

She got the money through, this seemed diaphane,

How I don’t know, so I asked her, it felt germane,

I didn’t understand her, and felt a right dumb-brain,

Thanked her, pretending to understand, I did mislain,

Still, she didn’t moan or complain!

Then out and up the hill, to catch the bus again!

———————————————

I had to doge another Pavement Cyclist, he gave me a fright, 

I was too tired to comment or get into a fight,

I’d run out of the Kryptonite! 

Would I make the walk home up the fearsome hill? I might! 

Down to the traffic light corner,

And the bus passed by, I was too late!

I checked the next ones time and date, 

40 minutes, too long to stand and wait,

So I set off, limping, with an unsteady gait!

The hill looked a fearsome sight, 

The prospect of climbing it, made me feel uptight,

Sorry that I didn’t wait for the bus, I felt contrite!

Anyone seeing me struggle up the road must have seen a sickening sight,

I was sure the gradient was gaining height?

The hobble home seemed infinite

At the top of Winchester, the parkers made things tight,

For breakfast, I should have had some Marmite,

The time went by slowly, and things went quite,

Somehow, up the last part of the hill, I did expedite, 

To see a harrowing sight,

The 40 bus arriving, some tenants did alight,

 My energy was drained completely now, flat!

Didn’t have the energy for eating my cervelat,

Must not fall asleep, I’ll have to do summat,

I got back to the apartment, Zzzz; that was that!


After this abysmal, Whoopsiedangle-ridden trip, the poor old twit, did have fleeting thoughts of a suicidal nature. but he did not act on them – He fell asleep! Haha!

The tale in bad rhyme, of Inchies Escape from isolation, to Nottingham City Centre!

Monday, 7th September 2020, Inchcock escapes from captivity and cunningly flees his Woodthorpe Court. To investigate the Coronavirus affects in the City Centre, buy stuff he doesn’t need, cripple his poor feet, and a failed search for a chinwag!

Plans were laid,

For his escapade,

The Escape bid was made,

He was feeling fraught and afraid!

Arriving on Upper Parliament Street,

Alighted the bus, hobbles to Poundland,

Already pains from Relux Roger and his feet,

He spent on superfluous stuff, like crabmeat,

Then to the Bargain shop, wishing he could find a seat!

He bought three things, none of them needed,

His enthusiasm for his escape, now, receeded,

Little Inchies fungal lesion bleeding, succeeded,

His finances, he had further bleeded!

He hobbled along Milton Street then,

Down Clumber Street, he was saddened, when,

He saw the closed shop, there were over ten,

Including his camera shop, he nearly cried then!

Sadly, he made his way to the end,

Feeling lonely and down a bit,

What Coronavirus has created, can we mend?

Oh, dear, a penny he needed to spend!

The urge he had to suspend!

To the corner of Long Row, he did wend!

A photo of Pelham Street he did take,

Then one a shot backwards up Clinton he did make,

Long Row, too, where he took some more,

Off towards his bus stop in the Slab Square,

Paramedics, Security Guards, were there,

The people looked so full of despair!

The rain came down, he took shelter from it,

Under the shop eaves, but it didn’t last long,

He took this photo, he quite liked the resulting effect,

His bladder was full, to the bus stop direct!

En route, Slab Square was photographed,

He tripped on the wheeled trolley walker,

He even managed a little laughter,

When he passed wind and hiccoughed! 

He caught the bus back, a painful drive home,

Got off on Chestnut Walk, glad he finished his roam,

Damn it, he’d forgot to get his shaving foam!

He sheltered from the sudden rain,

Under the cover, and gloom was falling again,

He belched, it smelt like aminomethane,

He hobbled toward home; it was a strain!

He got in his flat,

He untangled his hearing aids from his mask,

It was a fiddley, difficult task!

Made himself a meal that,

Was too big, but not too much fat,

He fell asleep, and that was that!

Not a very good ode this time, uncertainty and confusion were visiting me. Sorry.

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!

 

Inchies Ode to Inchcock

The effervescent, bubbly, good-natured Nottinghamian, 25-year-old, super-fit, Educator, Mountaineer, Professor of Neurotransmitterisational failure, and lover of oven-baked Leicester cheese potatoes; presents his latest dollop of poetical rubbish, for you!

Here we go…

I may be getting on for eighty,
But I retain some childish juvenility,
It’s one thing, in which I have the ability,
I don’t need any guilt or justifiability,
I’ve no confidence left, just vulnerability!

My ailments give me pain and irascibility,
I’ve long lost interest in egocentricity,
My body’s lost strength and elasticity,
The legs have lost their endurability,
The brain’s, now devoid of logicality!

Possibly, perhaps, partly old age, you see,
Could be lack of fun, loneliness and frivolity,
That’s made me somewhat grumpity,
The Porcelain Throne? It’s solid or liquidity,
No chance now, of any multi-functionality!

My once sharp mind, now full of banality,
I catch the wrong bus into the City,
I stutter now, so it’s hard to be witty,
I feel I’ve become a nugacity, a nonentity,
For falling asleep, I have a propensity!

No fighting spirit, and no ignitability
I’m morose, sad, no shockability,
For black periods, I’ve a susceptibility,
Life no longer offers me any tangibility,
But a big flabby-stomach, and gibbosity!

One thing that’s grown, is my gullibility,
And my stomach, that’s an undeniability
My hopes have gone, died, ostensibility,
Now life has very little enjoyability,
I sometimes wallow in self-pity,
That’s when I’ll write, a silly ditty!

Donations please: To me ASAP. Thank you.

Coping with Old Age – Inchcock Style

Coping with Old Age – Inchcock Style

Wrote in SuPport of the fethaurus Users league

Like Corona Virus and wee-weeing, it comes to us all,

Like dizziness, madness and having many a fall,

You can’t prevent it, like a rainy squall,

It’ll come, Summer, Winter, Spring or Fall,

You might be having rumpy-pumpy, or playing beachball?

Football, tennis, baseball, trying to throw a curveball,

Or you could be summoned to the guildhall,

Nowt will stop ageing, for eternity, you may trawl,

But as I say, it doesn’t matter at all,

Ailments, disabilities, agony to recall,

Life is just a struggle and a brawl,

Unfairness, those who seem to have it all,

Money, good looks, who lives are a ball,

Even for them, live will stall,

Death is perfectly natural,

Mind you, them who live at Balmoral,

Though, lacking in some moral,

Live longer, that’s connatural,

It’s us commoner’s, with no collateral,

Who was accepting our being visceral,

But death, well, it’s gone viral,

For the underprivileged, hopes, are not transferable,

Though, commitment is not endurable,

Life is not so cheery, easy, or affable,

Things can get so bad, death is advisable,

But still, you must admit, it can be laughable!

I wish that humour was bequeathable,

And seeing the future was browsable,

Wouldn’t it nice, if death was cancellable!

Just a thought! – I had one in 1958 as well!

Rainbow inspired photographicalised ode

1Mon04

5Fri05

On the computer, picking at my cold sore,
I drew the curtains, above is what I saw,
For beauty, one couldn’t ask for more,
I was gobsmacked, as I looked in awe!
Life wasn’t so complicated or obscure,
There was hope yet, I was sure,
I forgot all about my credit score!

5Fri007c

My zoochosis meant nothing, against this delight,
Magnificent colours and bending light,
Some pale, transparent, others being superbright,
I took in the gorgeousness, as well I might,
I forgot the hassle of Monday and yesternight.
I wanted to steal this inspiration, get the copyright!

5Fri12

How did the phenomenon occur, I lacked the insight,
It even beats the heavenly blue moonlight,
A plane flew by, lucky devils on that flight!
Not that I don’t love the days twilight,
What an incomparable, wonderful sight,
It’s even more desirable than toasted Marmite!

5Fri11

Rainbow, that’s an excellent euonym,
My self-control wandered, I felt grim,
Mind facts were substituted with skrim,
Dizzy Dennis was afoot, a thought-storm brewed!
For moments the brain froze, and logic stewed,
My head cleared, after a prayer and a hymn.

5Fri019

I no longer drink, or use tobacco,
Don’t play any instrument, no piano,
I do overeat and love a fresh tomato,
Eventually, semi logic I did re-bestow,
Thus ended this thought-storm fiasco!

5Fri03

No peace, no rest, from the unbalanced mind,
Sometimes from life’s hassle, I wish I could resign,
Oh, to find an existence that is gentle and kind,
Peacefulness, tranquillity, are so hard to find,
Even around here, with its lanes, tree-lined,
Why is life, so complicatedly designed?
Have I any right, to moan and whine?
The body and brain are both on the decline,
Red Dwarf’s on the box later, so never mind!

1Mon04a