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A 2015 photo of when I could, & did, get out.
Reminded of when the UK got far too much rain.
Not now though, sad innit.
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MONDAY 15th AUGUST 2026
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THE BANK FARCE – Truncated
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I did not cope well. I am not coping well.
Lousy, Wank… no Bank meeting; not fully understood.
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With the L9 and Community Easy Link bus company closing down, taxis were my only option. The Carer Company had not confirmed if a Carer I cannot afford was coming with me. Phoned them. Yes.
Caught the bus in the City Centre with Carer Ejaz; we were going to catch the Clifton bus to avoid taxi fares. He said he’d found a TSB Bank in Victoria Centre on Google Maps. So we searched for the bank in Victoria Centre. I asked a Victoria staff member; it was at the far end of the complex. I walked to it, found it, and discovered it was seating and advertising. No bank. By then it was too late to catch a bus, so we went out and caught a taxi. The £18.50 outward trip ended with me hitting my head on the roof and all but falling off as I got out. Ejaz saved me. Bless him!
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Paid the fare, walked over to the TSB bank, and to the end sign-in table. I was glared at and looked down on by the young gentleman sitting there. No smile, a distinctly snotty talking style, and instant hatred brewed.
After 10 minutes, he said; We’ll have to put you in a room for further questioning. He waved from the counter with his left hand as he commanded we take a seat. As we turned, I saw ‘Orange.’ I turned back and asked him, “Were you trying to scare me then? Threatening me just then? It didn’t work. Do you want me to show you how to scare someone?” It’ll be my pleasure! No response.
A young snotbag came to take me in for our “Interview”; she instantly reminded me of pictures of Eva Braun.
After endless questioning, I was getting more and more
confused as to why they did not want, indeed, refused to transfer the money I wanted from one account to my other. Constantly calling a Führer higher up in the bank’s oligarchic ranks. We need positive ID to go any further. You only have a bus pass, not good enough.
They allowed me less than the minimum I needed.
I got less than a 1/3rd. And the trip home cost even more, £ 19 or £20-something. Did I mind? Better not say. Especially now (Tuesday), when WP informed us of a (mysterious) spike in viewing numbers.
The Police? The Bank? Fraud Squad?
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We got back. We had to cut things a smidge short, cause Ejaz had to get to his next client. Same as at the Hospital, and that is on for next Friday again. (I think) And it will not we £6 both ways like last week, more like £44 both ways; now the EasyLink disabled people’s bus service has been closed down. We were children; now 80-year-olds are losing out all the way. Cheap transport gone. Going into the City or QMC NHS hospitals is a nightmare. So scary, as the staff have had enough. Especially in the A&E and Geriatric wards.
Lost track again there, Tsk!
Ejaz got me back to the flat and had to rush off.
I couldn’t find the note with the details Eva Braun provided at the Oligarchic Bank on how to access the TSB site. I’ll have a good search around in the morning.
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Despite the pains and particularly the one from my head-butting it and my knee on the ledge getting out of the taxi, and the cost of it all and having now less than £1000 in my account, and not knowing or even being able to know, how to check to see if the pittance they granted to move for me… An unexpected, unreasoned small visit 
from High Horis, a short, but gloriously ‘Sod-em-all’ worry-free half-hour or so, of bliss.
Until I realised that I’d put far too much curry powder in the poor imitation curry I’d made. So another might of eating crisps followed by ice cream!
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It is now 2000hrs, on Tuesday. A very busy day again.
Here are the snaps I took
Begged the Carer to replace the day Catheter bag for days and days now. Blimey, he did it last night!
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That’s all there is. Tsk!
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Peripheral Neuropathy Pete
Inchie Today Sunday16th August 2026
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I lay in my high-class oligarch’s bed for ages after recovering from the horrible night’s sleep. Or rather, lack of sleep. My mind was stewing over so many worries and tasks that I had to get done today & tomorrow. The fear of certain carers being due, and missing Ejaz and Mirza, accompanied by 
, 
, and the odd twangs of pain from Neck-Pain-Nigel and 
.
I was a shadow of myself. Gloomy, depressed, and frustrated. I knew I had to get up; it was still early in the day, and I was sure I would have to get up soon to visit the 
. As I gently twitched parts of my 
body to test, feeling out which ailment would be master over me today, I was amazed when I moved and caught sight of the nocturnal Catheter pouch on the floor. (It’s got a very long tube – it was Anne Gyna, by the way) I was more surprised than the other morning. How the 
pouch hadn’t split, I don’t know. 18,500ml! This helped me break the deep depressive thoughts I had.
I confirmed the reading on the bag, and the rear-end evacuation was coming on, so I hobbled to the wet room. It was a mass of long-winded farts for about two or three minutes. Constipation in control again, and just like the last two mornings, a good few splurts from Trotsky Terence as follow-up. Then a comical, the perfect word for it, too!
Not at the time, but later, I saw the humorous side of it. I seem to get these funny things happening to me at any time, but mostly within ten minutes of getting up?
It wasn’t me having them; I think I might doubt the veracity of my own writing.
Popeye had his spinach, Schwarzenegger had his muscles, Elvis had his hips, Hitler had Europe, for a short while. What do I get? Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas, PN, Angina, Cataracts, a TBI, Scary Carers, a wank Bank (TSB) that will not let me move my own money around and talks down to me on the phone. Duodenal Ulcer, got shot twice, had a stroke, went partially deaf at 40 years old, Carers who do not turn up but I still get charged full whack, and seem determined not to communicate with me. They are very good at that. Arthritis, Cramps, and depression, like… well, very deep lately. But this has been written wittily to try and bring some smiles around.
Cause really, I’d be lost without the greatest supporter, Jenny. She is not very well at the moment. I try not to ring or email her while she is so poorly. My Angel, she is.
So I must tell you the tale; that is true. I am not moaning. Flipping heck, I’ve not said about the tumble in the toilet yet. So here it is, every aspect, honestly spoken… Well, written. Hehehe!
Please wish Jenny the best. 🤞🏻💗🫶🏻
I’d just cleaned up after the evacuation and flushed the loo. Decided to have a wash & shave. I reached for the toothpaste, and as I did, my famous right side wobbled- shoulder, leg and foot – and this time it had me over. I leant towards the porcelain to grab the WC, missed it, and my shaking right arm went in the WC’s water up to its 
elbow! I hit my chin and kneecap. The second Carer, the nice one, took this snap of it for me. It looked far worse than it was. On the plus side, at least I’d cleaned up the mess from Trotsky’s follow-through before I plunged my arm into the pan. Haha!
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Pleased to report that now the toenails have had £35 worth of cropping, I’ve been walking much less painfuller. I’ve clouted my chin and bruised the right knee, though. I mustn’t complain. I’m not sure why.
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BP was high. Carer looked at my chin, said nothing, and did nothing about it. Carer Prem washed it and put some ointment on it and a plaster. Phorpained my shoulder, back, Coccyx, and privates. He made three visits today. A nice, non-pushy Carer who listens.
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I found a source of solace in working on the computer today. Fair enough; it was a day of mistakes and faults, and a memory-mangling day, too. Without much doubt, I did have my thinking cap on. I thought that if I delved deeply into the record-keeping, blog, etc. I would not start panicking about the trip to the Titx TSB bank tomorrow. I’m sure it worked for a few hours. But it all came flooding back. Then I could not concentrate when I started updating the blog.
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I’ve got no idea if a lift has been arranged, and with the L9 bus and the Easy-Lift buses both stopping work, I’ll have to go by taxi. That is, if a Carer turns up to go with me. The bank insists that I take a Carer; if one doesn’t turn up, I’m in a mess. If one does turn up, the taxi fare will break me. And will so please the bank. It’s the aforementioned lack of communication that gets to me most. Now I’m a bag of nerves. Can’t get dressed on my own. Or the walker, sort the timings out, ordering taxis, Humph!
The kitchen really needs cleaning. The Catheter bag has not been changed for over a month. I need to phone the Post Office; I had an email saying they are delivering my parcel tomorrow! Can I stop them in time?
Lots more happened today, but I’m going to have to stop. I’ve got to phone British Gas about their non-arrival! Call the Social Lady about the money situation. I am a nervous wreck. Ball of anxiety. Frazzled, Anxious, jittery, edgy, tensed up, a worrywart, a hand-wringer, a basket case, disconcerted, emotional cripple, fretful, overwrought, distraught, self-conscious, in a discountenanced, in a dither, distracted, a neurotic, a fussbudget.
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LATE NIGHT NOSH
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Inchy Today: Saturday 15th August 2026
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= =Last nights sunset==
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SATURDAY 15th AUGUST 2026
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I WOKE WITH THE MISERY OF YESTERDAY
STILL RAMBLING THROUGH MY MIND.
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04:45: I stirred. Mused, remembered, moaned, complained, self-lambasted, and decided all was lost; thus, I accepted the hopeless situation.
Nowt can be done, thanks to my haughtily non-communicative inept, antisocial, oligarchal, customer-hating, vilifying, snotty, TSB Bank’s refusal to transfer my own money from one account to another. And the consequences of this unfair, typical bank-like decision.
I also pondered whether I should demand all my money on Monday and put it in another bank or building society. After trying to convince the snotty, superior-sounding, bad decision-making, uncaring, customer-hating customer service staff… I stopped myself from daydreaming. Maybe I was a little bête noire in my thoughts and apprehension of the problem?
Should I go in on Monday with the expensive Carer, by costly taxi, to speak with them; Put on a smile, and act super-pleasant with them?
Even have a wash before I go? Practice in the mirror how to put on a smile without showing the five-tooth gap at the front of my mouth? Try to charm them into giving me my own money? I’ve put my truncheon in the three-wheeled walker, just in case.
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Off to the WC, an appalling session this one was. About six chunky, hard, thick, separate greenish-coloured chunks were evacuated, immediately followed by a long, semi-liquid flow of what looked like Chilli con Carne, which was the same colour as Chilli.
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I started working on the blog, finishing and new template, and the Carer arrived. Ejaz: 1 call; Mirza: 0 this week. It was Carer (no listening because I’m on my phone), Edward. On his usual form. Left medication where he used it, not back on the medication table. I asked him to return the pill pot from the computer desk. Other Carers had to search to find them. Then, when he’d shot off, I found the barrier cream in the same place. Times & Carers like this make me lean toward finishing with help altogether. However, it would be risky. But the value of Mizra & Ejaz is much-needed and irreplaceable, as is my money – I’m simply spending a lot more than I have coming in. I heard not a word from the financial institution that the Social Lady signed me up for. I think I know why. She explained that they would aim to make sure I have money over the total of the bills and would give me cash to spend. That total means I have to go out and mug someone or rob a bank to get my cash.
There’s a thought… a TSB bank maybe?
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Inchie: Thu/Fri 13th/14th August 2026
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THURSDAY 13th AUGUST 2O26
NOT VERY GOOD TODAY
Mentally struggling, and my Coccyx is bleeding.
Bit of a curt, catching-up job, Friday AM. Sorry.
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Passed well last night?
Condiment shelf
Morning shots
Taken by the Carer
Afternoon, by Inchie
Carers organised desk
Evening snap
Blue cheese sarnies,
Sliced potatoes, Tiriyani’s,
Some sweet fish sticks,
Topless Pork Pies,
With on-top pickles.
In the morning I got the s_ _ts,
One giant torpedo, concretish!
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FRIDAY 14th AUGUST
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The most frustrating one for years!
Although it started with actual hope in my heart.
I am in low spirits. So another below-grade, humourless blog is in the offing. I’ll do my best. Doom & Gloom!
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0650: I woke and got the night Catheter bag removed; I actually felt a smidge perky. (Hahahaha! I didn’t know what was coming then!)
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I waddled off to the wet room to get a wash, shave, clean the teggies and, as seems to be the pattern lately, a session on the Porcelain Throne first. It took me even longer than yesterday. The thick, broad, single green-looking torpedo edged its way out. But it took a lot of pain and effort on my part to encourage it.
I imagine it must have been a full ten minutes before it fell into the water below. Oddly enough, the Coccyx was bleeding but not the haemorrhoids.
I set about getting the teeth cleaned. A simple task, you’d think? Not for Inchie, oh, no. I dropped the toothbrush, which hit the edge of the sink and dived almost gracefully into the centre of the WC bowl. I recovered it and left it soaking in a basin to sterilise it. I used an old one and carried on. The old brush was a lot harder than the new one. I was spitting out blood all the time while cleaning the teeth. To my surprise, I’d broken more bits of off a few teeth again. The gap in the top row is so much wider; the top of a water bottle stuck itself between the two teggies left at the front of the mouth later in the day. The lower two teeth around that gap was so loose I think I’ll lose one of them in the day. (I didn’t, though, yet)
I washed, then shaved with only one teeny-weeny cut,
I washed, dried, and applied Barrier cream to each area in need that I could find. Privates, belly-fold ones at the front, and under my man-breasts. On the last tube now, but I think Carer Mirza has ordered some.
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I got some potatoes in the crock-pot. The uninterested Carer arrived while I was finishing off and asked me to pass him a protection pad. No offer of any help in getting them on. He put the Barrier cream on but missed the Coccyx; no blood this morning. I had to remind him as he got on his mobile again. I took just one Oxycodone painkiller. Then put the Barrier cream he’d left near the computer and the skin cleanser he’d left where he was sitting, in my 1963-built, falling-to-pieces Hopewell’s E-Plan Sideboard, with the doors falling off. I asked him to order some night Catheter bags on his next visit.
No answer. He didn’t, of course.
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Today the toe-cutting lady is arriving in the afternoon. So I got out the £35, ready to pay her. I sorted a drawer out and made a tentative start on the daily doggerel.
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Thank heavens it was Ejaz who came to do the long call.
Ejaz did a body check and told me the Coccyx was clear of blood. Issued the medication. We spoke of the British Gas problem, and he asked how Jenny was.
He decided to call the bank early on. To transfer money from my savings account into my current account.
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THIS TURNED OUT TO BE A FARCE!
I) First call: The usual AI voice: “We are very busy, please be patient…” with some piffle added and repeated over the ten minutes we waited.
2) Then the inquisition started. I was expecting them to ask how many spots I’ve got on my bum! Ejaz kept cool, and persisted and was eventually put through to someone else. A full-of-himself, smarmy-speaking snotbag answered the call. Ejaz was repeating what the lady had asked earlier. The line went dead!
Ejaz kept his composure and rang back again.
Me? I was all churned up inside, Livid, shaking, and I thought I had a short seizure while Ejaz waited for the call to be answered. The acid taste pulled me out-of-it. I was not in a good place.
3) Ejaz went through the ID checks again. The poor lad was near the end of his visit time. He persisted. That lady spoke with me and asked if anyone could vouch for me. That got to me deeply, because I hadn’t!
The lady then transferred the call to someone else.
4) Another long wait to get through; AI messages got to Ejaz a bit. The whole incident had done me in.
5) The snotty-voiced one came on again. I’m looking forward to seeing him when we go to the bank on Monday. Ejaz was getting worried about the time.
I was handed the phone and asked him why he was refusing to move my own money between my own bank accounts. Security: cannot and will not do it unless you tell me why and call the bank. No appointment needed, just turn up, can’t you? That got me over the edge.
Why? Because I have to have Carers, and they cost me about £485 a week. So, £1700+ a month. My pensions are well short of that figure. That is why my bank account has suddenly gone from £18,000 to £3,000 since having the Carers… he just repeated his refusal and demand that I call the bank. “Me: Taxis will cost me £60, Carer will cost me a fortune, so I could run out of money for minor things like paying my rent, buying food, paying the dentist, optician, audio, Internet, Virgin, rates, Norton, Grammarly, window cleaners, toenail-cutter, or even the taxis that I’ve been told to use when the Catheter blocks to the hospital, & cost of the Carers rescort duties, and the £760 montly bill the them. But I don’t suppose you could give a toss!”
I got no response, of course.
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During the losing battle against the oligarchic, uncaring TSB Bank, which took so much longer to lose than I expected.
Here was Ejaz and me; me being naked but for the protection nappy and the Catheter Contraption, and in came the toenail cutter gal. So, in the middle of Ejaz being cut off on the phone by the objectionable antisocial and gerontophobic scum at the TSB Bank. Another person gets my banking details. Every Carer has them, the Warden has them, the NNC Social has them. And the repugnant TSB still won’t let me have my own money! ?!&🏴☠️#ers!
I could write a book! A biography, and give it the title of ‘Embarrassing Moments’.
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Toenails clipped at last, for only £35, for a five-minute job. Taking this snap of my feet, I noticed that my legs were still so far reduced in swelling that they looked seriously skinny; the left one. Some new blotches were appearing on both legs, and the feet were down enough for me to get the slippers on, with help.
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Late night before I got the day’s meal prepped & on the tray. Stilton cheese, pickled onions, the last of the pickle-topped pies, gherkins and sliced potatoes.
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Inchie Visits The Madhouse: Wed 12 Aug 2026
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WEDNESDAY 12th AUGUST 2026
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Pouch to pot, Porcelain Throne. Comp pn, update checks. Took ages to get it to reload; no idea what I was doing.
Carer Ejaz was a great help this morning. A good lad.
Prepped things for hospital visit. Mirza escorted me, although I said I’d go alone to save money. Glad he did, really. Painful drive there, pleasant assessment, lovely Laurie. Mirza contributed with things I’d forgotten about during the Q&A sessions.
The lift home was even more painful. The trouble being my bus trip yesterday, and the two today, played havok with my bruised coccyx.
Got back to the flat; Mirza helped me up, and had to shoot off to his next client. A great lad, Mirza is.
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Took some snaps…
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Prepped a meal of the day and got the computer on, but did nothing. Matron arrived, and we had a Q&A session. I mentioned the coccyx being so sore. And Matron took a 
look at that and my bum. Said the coccyx was really sore-looking, and she applied some barrier cream to it. Leaving a note on the packet for the Carers to see, who, in the morning, didn’t even notice the writing on the outer box of barrier cream.
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I started to update the well-behind blog from the day before. But fatigue took hold, and I decided to get the meal of the day done. That turned out to be a bit farcical. 🥱
Amongst the dropped items that had to be retrieved, thrown away and/or cleaned were: The cock-pot, a spoon, a spreading knife, and a sharp knife and the fork
(three times!) To round these off, after taking this poor-quality snap of the trayed meal, I dropped that, then the walking stick, and hit my head on the counter edge, automatically bending to salvage some of the food!
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Once I’d regathered the slop of a mixture back onto the
tray, I had to clean the floor so I didn’t slip on it; the nosh was all cold and messy; the urge & hunger for it left me. Ended up all depressed, and had some cheese biscuits, crisps, fish sticks and an ice cream cornet.
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Inchie: Tuesday 11th August 2025
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Ode Of Thoughts
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Tuesday 11th August 2026
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06:15hrs: I bounded out of bed, took off my nocturnal Catheter as I leapt over the armchair, Tarzan-yodelling as I landed and ran off 200 press-ups. Followed by 100 squats, 150 bar lifts, 200 56lb arm curls, and 500 toe touches…
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Alright, I’ll start again, then…
I stirred, coughed, and the pains from my bruised coccyx forced out a little argh under my breath. Bent down to take off the night Catheter bag, and Dizzy Dennis and Arthure Itis joined in the assault. I decided a wash, teggie cleaning and shave was needed. As I hobbled to the wet room, the knees and long, toenail-nailed toes, which had curled under the toe and caught on the carpet, produced some bad language from me. Shaking-Shoulder-Shirlely kicked off, and Lost Balance Belinda almost had me over as I went into the wet room, nearly dropping my three-pronged walking stick. Preparing the shaving tackle, I was laughing off the pain, and an evacuation from the rear-end started of its own accord; this proved to be one 
of the oddest visits I’ve ever had. I was so lucky, yes, lucky, that I was only 3 feet away from the Throne, and got down just in time. A sluggy wet mega-squirt or two, and it was all over… I thought. Seconds later, every blocked. The second coming came so slowly and needed so much input to force it out. And there was a lot of it. A little bleeding from my haemorrhoids, but not as much as yesterday. I remember thinking, ‘Thank heavens that’s done and dusted. I opted to do ablutions in a different pattern this morning. I cleaned where I could reach below the stomach, dried it off, and applied Barrier cream to the lower regions. I went to fetch a pair of PPs. Struggled a while to get them on, then did my teeth, and washed where I could reach,h bodywise. I started to shave.
I’d got the lather on, and blow-me-down, another evacuation started! Yet it was a rock-Hard torpedo job.
Three different performances. Hehehe!
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View of the mobile aids storage area. Formerly known as the balcony. Walking frame, walking sticks, wheelchair, square walker, and old 3-wheeled one.
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Iceland order arrived.
More…
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Afternoon, Carer Ejaz came. We caught the bus down to Mansfield Road, and it was agony! Each time the bus went around a corner or hit the rocks and cracks on the road, I had to lift myself up quickly to avoid pressurising the bruised coccyx, which brought on the arthritis in both knees! I’m rushing now, leaving a lot of stuff out, because it is so late; the last caller just arrived. You’ll understand, maybe, when I write with a fresher outlook to finish this blog. Sorry.
We walked to the ATM, and Ejaz helped by watching me to make sure I didn’t cock it up and lose my card (this has happened several times). Called at the Continental Foods Store; I’d have written the name, but I forgot what it was, but remembered what it was in the morning… well, afternoon. Ozen.
I forgot to take the Kodak Tim 2 with me, Grrr!
Ejaz got the last six bottles of Carter’s Soda Water and lemon wafers. Well, here’s a photo of the food I took later after getting home. Making a mess of this; I can’t spend much time (Wednesday), and I’ve got to get dressed and prepped for the trip to the hospital.
We got to the bus stop; Ejaz was worried about being late and overstaying his visit, and I felt guilty for not understanding what he told me earlier, letting him down, and I paid the price.
We’d just missed the bus. I felt terrible. Ejaz was getting annoyed and said we’d have to walk back up to the flats; I’m already late for my next client. I had to keep stopping repeatedly, for Anne Gyna was giving me Hell and breathing was so painful. Not to mention the back, the knees, the poor toes (had to wear slippers), and I got the dizzies a couple of times.
Got back to the flat, asked Ejaz to leave the bags on the bed. He gave me a painkiller. Off he went. No high fives.
Minutes later, the door chime went; it was Ejaz coming back. I let him in, and went back to the room, and saw he’d left his headphone thingamajig. I took it to the door and handed it to him. Swapped high fives.
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He’s so Caring & attentive, as is Mirza.
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I worked on this blog until Carer Prem came.
Hopefully his calling back about his music phone thingy was a good sign, and he’ll forgive me.
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Making a meal now; I hope to take a snap and find a way to add it to this blog. It took me hours to find the photo of the day’s meal. I’d taken it without the SD card in the camera. A regular failing of mine, mind you. Hehehe!
A slight mistake or a few were committed in making this meal. I baked the potatoes for too long, and they were too hard for my terribly truncated, rotting, breaking, falling-out teeth to cope with. RIP to another tooth, which kindly left a little bit of itself in the gum, just to make eating that smidge more painful (as the overcooked, leathery potato skin removed it from attendance in my mouth and sent it down into my gullet for disposal. I’m not looking forward to that exiting on my next Porcelain Throne evacuation!
The blue cheese I purchased at the Continental Store was most disappointing. It cost me £4 for 120g. I expected it to taste like Roquefort cheese. A great, weak-flavoured cheese this was. The foreign name on it was- I’ll get the pack out of the bin… Gorrit! It reads: Turkish – Detected: ‘Yörem, Kars Küflü peynir.’ I put this into Google’s translator; it gave me “Yörem, Kars Mouldy Cheese”. That was a surprise. But not such a big one was how tasteless it was. Humph! £4 worth!
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TTFNski Each
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Inchie Today: Monday 10th August 2026
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Sorry, it’s a bit bare in detail
So many things happening,
I’m not coping well with them.
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Inchie Today: Sat/Sun 8/9th August 2026
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SATURDAY 8th AUGUST
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An even worse day today, for memory.
Notes virtually unreadable. Made a lot of them as well; I deciphered a few bits. Not a lot, I admit. I’ve got to stop doing this. I cannot understand why this new affliction has come on so quickly, as well. Three days now.
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Porcelain Throne a Constipation Conrad style.
Carer: Oxycodone taken. Arthritis in neck, far worse.
Phorpained shoulder, neck and knees.
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Carer Ahmed: Said he would arrange a takeaway meal for me from the Willow House. Then found they will not enter our flats; we have to fetch food from the lobby door. I thanked him, but gave up on the idea. Ahmed said he could collect it on his way in. Smashing!
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I called Jenny. She offered to get the British Gas non-showing of electricians on four occasions, on Monday, bless her cotton socks.
The next page was total rubbish; I could hardly make of a handful of words. Eyesight is the problem, I think, the Cararact? Don’t know.
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Ahmed returned, and I realised he meant another day. The Willow was closed. Jenny 🧑🏼❤️🧑 said she could go down to fetch me the meal. So kind. But, of course, it did not come. I had to have a meal of bread, tomatoes and crisps. Just too tired to make anything.
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SUNDAY 9th AUGUST
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Up unwillingly just before six. After an even more regularly jumping-awake-all-night session was enjoyed. When I did eventually give up trying to get any worthwhile sleep, and gingerly, slowly, very slowly, I bent down to take off 
the oddly well-filled Catheter night pouch, the need for the Porcelain Throne developed.
Making the hobble to the wet room, I had so many bodily pains, I didn’t know which was the worst.
So many to choose from this morning; Arthrits in the neck and right shoulder was noticed first. Then, the bruised coccyx as soon as I sat on the loo, knocking my injured left arm wound. Constipation ruled this session. I spent ages urging, pushing and could feel the blood coming from my haemorrhoids.
When finally getting up from the porcelain, I grabbed then dropped the new toilet roll. I don’t think I need to tell you what it fell in, do I?
I cautiously bent down holding the grab bar, and gave myself one heck of a toe-stubbing! Right on the longest-
nailed toe, the big one! I realised that my stomach, just emptied, was swelling up almost visibly! Naturally this pain and cock-uppery was taken with a smile. Ahem!
Then I cleaned up, and limped into the kitchen, to make up a 2-litre spring water bottle to keep the Catheter happy.
The Carer arrived later, taking a photo and commenting on my expanded middriff. The feet and toes were a bother all day. I can’t wear slippers of shoes. I may manage to bear the slippers on, if I get someone to help, and cut a knick in them? Of course I’ve not had the Catheter leak on me for several days, so I might risk cutting them, so I can wear them for the hospital visit on… on, erm… just checked on the calendar, this Wednesday. I’ll get it in the neck for not taking a 
Carer, but can’t afford to. My shoes are simply too painful to wear; no wonder the toe-stubbs hurt so much. And both legs have gone really thin again? Chicken legs!
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Carer Ahram came while I was working on the first part of this blog. Barrier creamed the belly mould, underarms and Phorpain gelled shoulders, underarms, man-breasts and neck for me. Heeven spees mopped the kitchenette floor. This lad only needs asking once.
He remembers, and is a nice, gentle bloke.
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Ahmed: Surprisingly, on his teatime call, when I asked him to change the Catheter pouch for me, he didn’t do it. But did give my feet a wash and dry, putting on athlete’s foot powder afterwards, and issued the medication, followed by a full safety check of the flat.
The feet are now feeling a little less painful.
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Having very little fresh food left, I’ve made an order on Iceland for Tuesday or Wednesday. I investigated what tinned food I can pick from. (Five out of date found).
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I was so worn out, mentally and possibly physically, that I did not eat the prepared meal. I’ll have it tomorrow, earlier if things work out, before the fading and tiring-out dawns on me, and Arthur Itis and Shaking Shoulder Shirley kick off. These two and Colin Cramps are virtually guaranteed around 20:00hrs.
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Inchie Today Friday 7th August 2026
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Sorry, such a busy day.
Even though British Gas did not arrive again.
Heard nowt from the toenail cutter,
(I’ll be a cripple soon. Humph!)
The kind Social Lady arrived.
Help from Carer Ejas appreciated.
Unfortunately, had a seizure.
She gave me a good Q&A session.
But the seizure left me so confused, I’ll have to ask Ejaz for the details of what happened from when I came out-of-it. Saturday morning, I felt even worse.
Thankfully, recovered about noonish.
So could not do a blog as such.
I put some old blogs on,
Now, to start Saturday’s blog…
I’ll try to get some details from the depths of my warped, infected memory.
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Inchie Today Thursday 6th August 2026
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An awakening with a difference. In order, I think: I looked at the nocturnal pouch, and it had not leaked overnight. As it had done for the previous three nights. Detached it from the day bag, and caught a glimpse of my ginormous 
man-breasts and chest. Not a pretty sight. What had happened, I had no foggiest notion of. I’ll take a closer look when I get a wash & shave later on in the day.
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Morning view
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Struggling with my eyesight.
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I dropped some dried milk onto the carpet.
Dropped the hoover,
Caught my arm wound against the edge.
Hoovered the mini-hallway.
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Found the photo of how the new hooked Catheter looked the following morning. The array pad, which I was told not to take off, fell off the following morning.
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Time has gone again, lost. Did a lot on Ejaz’s visit. He got the washing in the laundry room. Helped me wash and medicated all areas in need, got my PPs on for me.
Next Carer to collect the laundry from the dryer. Ejaz wrote on the mobile to remind him.
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Carer arrived, but did not collect the laundry. Asked him to fetch it up. It was squashed in the bag, creasing things, screwing the slippers. I then had to ask him to hang them up for me. Which he did. I’m not in a good place.
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I was soon feeling low again, and had no interest in eating yet. I may not bother. I was making up a list of things to ask and tell the Social Worker, who I hope is calling tomorrow sometime; Sister Jane rang. I should have appreciated this, but I didn’t. I felt terrible; I’ve never felt lower than I do now, in my life. And can’t help it.
The worry of the last gasp with the Social Lady is wearing me down, maybe. The bit of news I’ve gleaned about getting into a home is not encouraging. The bank situation and my bank balance are the lowest they’ve been since 1964.
I will be forced to cancel the Carers if something isn’t corrected soon. Managing without them will be hard, but it’s the only option. Just when Ejaz and Mirza are beginning to service me again. Both lovely Caring lads.
But I have no option. Unless the Social Lady can find some miraculous help for me.
It’s 19:17hours as I type this.
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Last Carer, I understand it is not to my Ejaz or Mirza; it is due shortly. I’m not interested in food, but I’ve done some boiled spuds. I’ll eat them for my meal and try to eat them. I’ll see what’s in the cupboard.
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Back in the morning, Cheers.
I’m back.
Late morning now, a lot to get done and sorted today (Fri).
Social Lady to arrive.
Foot Lady to arrive.
May not get a blog done.
Toothache, arthritis and coccyx bad.
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A bit blotchy?
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