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.
Inchcock Meal Snippet News
Mushrooms: Nicely seasoned for once
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.
07:30hrs: Woke wanting a wee-wee. I thought it would never come; it must have been 15hrs without one. It was hardly worth it, a painful sprinkle or two. At least the bladder is working again, so fingers crossed!
I set, too, giving myself a medical MOT. And taking ‘As needed’ non-prescription medications. There is no need for ointmentating this morning, No Little Inchies fungal lesion or Harold’s Haemorrhoids bleeding whatsoever! Excellent results on the blood pressure machine, best for ages!
The only thing not so good was the body temperature. That was way down low again. Been under the NHS’s recommended 35°c for a few days now. I don’t feel poorly; I am a lot chirpier in myself this morning. Although I felt so cold when it obviously isn’t?
I took some under-tongue CBS oil. And a Hemp capsule too.
Got the ears well saturated with the Olive oil. Let it sink in, and then I filled up the canals with more. This never seems to help, but I’ve got into the habit of doing it each morning now.
Then took a Dioctyl to help skid up the darned Porcelain Throne evacuations. Messy. Gooey, watery! Eurgh!
I got a few Warfarin tablets ready, so the carers will have some available for the evening doses.
Then, had a bash at syringing both ears. Not only a total waste of time; I failed to remove any wax at all, but I made such a mess I had
to clean up the water that had sprayed out off or missed the ears! Hehe!
Got the kettle on and sorted the laundry, not forgetting that talk-a-lot Esther would give me some hassle if it wasn’t ready and sorted when she arrived later this morning! Not that she scares me an anything like that, of course. Ahem!
I took this snap of the lovely morning sky with its ever-changing hues. Mother Nature, again shows us her beauty! The beauty we have been destroying for years.
Got the computer on and started on the WordPress reader and commenting, and the ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ chime brought forth Carer Richard. I thought the lad was late coming; he’s had extra calls on again and was in a rush because he had a four-hour training session later when he finishes work with the Diabetes team to get through. No time for any good natterings today again. I think he felt guilty about it, so I tried to cheer him up, wished him all the best, and gave him a bag of treats. Then, I walked (well, hobbled) with Richard to the lift lobby and wished him well for the meeting.
Took this photo of the car park in front of Woodthorpe Court from the kitchenette window. Made a brew of Glengettie tea and was about to return to the computer with the nug of tea – but circumstances changed…
As usual with Neuropathy Pete, his timing caused the optimum amount of pain and hassle. An involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance made me drop the cup as I grabbed Metal-Micky and the side of the sink to keep from going over. Once more, it was over in seconds, but I still managed to clout my knee on the edge of a floor cupboard. Which awakened Cartilage Cathy in agony! Humph!
Sorted myself out and took an extra Codeine. And fond this photo of a meal from which I can’t work out? It was not a good photo in any way, shape or form, so it might be one that I meant to delete from the file?
Started on the Snippets blog, and the Iceland delivery arrived. I let him in through the intercom box in the hallway, and I cleared a path to put the bags into.
The driver took the bags through to the kitchen for me. Gave him a choice of plonk cans in thanks. He opted, I noticed, for the Rum and coke. Hehe! Good for him; I hope it cheered him up a smidge.
They sent the Rustlers for Richard, sugar snap peas, mushrooms and some new Pork & Pickle Bites. Three for a fiver, so they must be good. One for Josie, one for Richard and one for Esther. I got some small apples that, hopefully, my lesser-teethed mouth can manage to eat. Har-har! They had no small vine tomatoes in stock but have sent me a pack of large tomatoes, Dutch, that had a sell-by date for today. No charge!
The best thing they had sent was the No-Moo ice creams and No-Bull burgers. The best of any burgers I have tried! The ice cream is by far superior in taste to what one might call natural ice cream. Grrreat Flavour both! I’d have ordered more, but I dared not with Iceland’s record of crap unrelated substitutions!
I had another go at getting the Snippet Ode done. (I did get it finished, but not until I’d been grafting on it, on & off, for another nine hours!) Esther arrived and came talkingly into the room. She still wasn’t near enough for me to hear her, and I feared that she may have something vital as she went into the hall, front, and living rooms.
It’s not so bad when she’s face to face and not shouting at me rather than talking to me. Esther, bless her, has a habit of talking and carrying on. Esther keeps talking to me from the rear of my ear lobes as she turns away… the peace and quiet are nice. But there is always danger in this… She has a great memory and thinks because she’s told me something, I must have heard it and will remember it. (Both are impossible in my condition, Haha!)
Then, a week later, I get an ear-bashing from about 4 inches distance and am informed that “I told you that last week!” telling offs. Luckily I can rest assured that Esther will nip off into the other room to have a nosey around my boxes and occasionally iron a shirt… but talking to me all the time from the other room… still, I knew what to expect. Hehe! Obviously, I had forgotten something or not heard it. I’m glad I got the pork & pickle thingamabobs for her now. Giving her then assuaged her aggression. I joke, of course… Erm? She’s an angel, really.
I got the ready meal into the oven and had roughly 40 minutes before it was cooked. I must not fall asleep!
Back to doing the blog, I trudged. ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ rang out, and I wearily (Mentally) went to the door. It was Josie, returning the tray and things for me from the Sunday meal. Bless her cotton socks; she enthused over the taste of this Sunday’s chilli stew! That cheered me up a bit! She even asked if I used to be a chef? Oh dearie me! My EQ was nervous at this. Naturally, I had no idea why at the time. A feeling of foreboding matured…
I got on with the Snippet blogging again! So deep in concentration… still making errors after cock-ups, though. Then it dawned on me that the food was in the oven!!!
Grade A: It looked like this after I’d burnt my fingers getting the tray out of the oven post haste! Not good, is it? But I was so tired and weary that I still used it and made a meal of sorts out of it.
I added some BBQ sauce to the tray. Got some slices of Milk Roll bread, tomatoes and sugar snap peas onto the tray.
I was part mad at myself, well darned annoyed with myself, and so tired and drained, I didn’t get too agitated. Yet I still laughed at myself as I tried to dismantle the encrusted burnt meal to get at some edible bits of food. It helped in having some bread and sauce to soak some resuscitated bits to eat.
By the time I’d finished burnt food mining, which was tasty, believe it or not, bits of burnt food had been scattered far and wide on my stomach folds, down the pants, on the tray, and on the floor and recliner cushion. The carpet took on a new design; there were many black, ash-like bits of residue on it. I faced a long task in getting things sorted… and the kitchen and oven needed cleaning attention as well.
I was all in by the time I got things semi-put right. I made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana tea and ate a huge bowl full of veggie ice cream! I finished it and lay there as I dropped off to sleep – it was so good that I think I dreamed of sleeping…
♫Oh, Susana♫ Chimed out, and Carer Valerie came in. I’d been up and about for around 12 hours by then, and waking up after five minutes of sleeping was not what I wanted… Hehehe! I remembered to give Valerie her Pork & Pickle whatsits, though.
I felt awful but could not resist the urge to finish the blog. The internet went down… now I was getting annoyed!
I pressed on and got the Snippets blog finished at long last. It stayed that way; it was now gone midnight! I realised then that I had not done the ablutions today!
ODE TO PUTIN
Is it true that hopes and expectancies are always there?
Putin’s are conspicuous, World Domination, I fear…
He’s somewhat of a Worldwide parcel courier?
Soon, bigger, dirtier packages will be sent, and nuclear…
Where will the scumball strike next? Europe and Asia, it’s unclear… Anywhere, somewhere, possibly a country that’s weaker?
Is it true that he wears a lemon and pink brassier? Shags Igor Sechin, his First Deputy Prime Minister? He laughs at citizens dead or gathered for warmth around a brazier, The man could not be any more selfish and crazier!
I insult the shithead cause there’s nothing else I can do… But I would, if I could, send him a can of poisoned Irish stew, I wonder if he likes it from his minions in his rear? He’d like to make his competition dead or disappear? What competition? He’s got more weapons & forces than we do… He’s more soldiers in Moscow’s Red Square!
We cannot afford to send troops there…
We’ve not got enough, nor has anyone else, to be fair…
I wish we could send him Tony Blair…
Notice he’s not volunteered to do any damage repair?
Putin offers and hopes only for death and despair…
To the rest of the world, we can only die or forebear…
Unless you bribe him if you’re a financier?
Then he just might take a fancy to yer?
Memories I have of sweets costing a farthing! Getting skin cancer through over-sunbathing,… I had sex once when I was thirtysomething… Being six, Mam ran away, and I learnt snogging, Christine, her name, I was her plaything!
Skidmarks on my unwashed underclothing. Trying my hand as a pugilist, boxing… I never won a bout; I was constantly losing… So tried the sports club amateur wrestling, Just one fight, it left me frothing and bleeding,
Years later, I tried my hand at WordPressing, Got dementia. It is very depressing… Worked in security, tried a spot of sleuthing, Caught a crook once; he was very scathing, He was found not guilty; I was seething!
I went undercover pretending to be birdwatching… Dressed in camouflage, green and brown clothing… Binoculars to hand, RT and truncheon packing… Fell out of the tree as I suspect, watching… Lost my job; it was gutwrenching!
Realising how bad I was at odes & blogging, When I was getting on a bit, seventysomething, I had a period of deep thoughts and soulsearching, Seeking whatever, a reason to carry on trying… Now I’m approaching the time for dying… Oddly enough, there’s no crying, just a bit of sighing!
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TUESDAY 31st MAY 2022
05:10hrs: After yet another horrendous night of shooting awake, nodding off and bursting back into ersatz life, I gave up; I needed a wee-wee, anyway. But that in itself was a nightmare… well, morning mare!
The regular of late, trickling, waiting and whistling, was followed by an even more extended period of dribbling! At least by taking my time and making sure that things had stopped, I avoided any splashing of the furniture, carpet or my body parts.
I started the sphygmomanometerisationing. BP first, with satisfactory results, as you can see here on the left. A smidge high, but nothing compared to many of last week’s figures for the SYS, at 149, DIA 74, and Pulse 78bpm. Very good! The Chinese (Hong Kong) was built by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, was still showing low. Compared to the target set by the hospital, of 35°c, at 33.7°c. But no worries!
I made up a waste bag and then went to the wet room to check out the feet and ankles that I found affecting my balance and hurting me a smidgeon.
I dug out yesterday’s photo of the pins to compare it with today’s (top).
Quite a change? The DVT and old ankle blotch had gone all artistic and more pronounced. Which is what the pains did as the day developed. They have not been this bad for months? Then I got the kettle on but didn’t get to make a brew as the innards summoned me back to the wet room.
Once again, the motion was reluctant to start moving. So, I had a go at the crossword book, a different one, as the previous one had got me struggling. Got a couple of answers in, and the sludge started coming! I can’t recall ever having a more gooey sticky, pongy evacuation than this was! Half a new toilet roll later, I started the mammoth task of cleaning up. Had a wash, got dressed, and went back to the kitchenette.
Made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana, and got some photos uploaded to CorelDraw, then the computer. Got the Monday blog updated; it took me a long time. During which the feet started stinging even when I was sat down. What’s going off down there?
Carer Richard arrived. The lad didn’t look too good. So I launched some humour at him, to which he responded well. As he got the medications to me, the poor chap started sneezing and coughing, and he was sweating so much! Not that that stopped him for long, he even showed me how to get the Grammarly extension, not to give corrections for sentence building. Unfortunately, it stopped Grammarly from working at all! Hehehe! I laughed because we got it back on and laughed about it. (Phew!) Richard didn’t look any better when he departed, but I think he was a little happier. I hope he is not coming down with any illness. Fingers crossed that he’ll be back tomorrow and feeling better. I got the Monday blog post done last, and the Morrison delivery arrived.
The delivery person brought up the flowers first, so he didn’t damage them, and he went down to the other bags; that was kind of him. These are for the Wardens. He fetched the different parcels, and I got them into the kitchen.
Got the things stored away. There is no frozen today; the freezer would struggle to get a biro or single fruit gum in. At least I got some of the battered chips, not the ones I wanted, but the last ones tasted nice enough. They substituted for battered onions with a tray of mashed turnips? Still, they’ll do for me. The bananas almost made me feel guilty! They looked like a set of parents with their children. Alright, so I’m a little weird at times! It has to be admitted, I fear. My travel into loony-land is taking on a little speed lately. Hehehe!
Cleaner Esther arrived. Talking all the time, picking fault with me not getting out for some exercise… then she took the laundry down to get done. I missed most of what she said. But, I did pick up on my ordering too much food. I’ve long stopped bothering to explain things to her. Hehehe!
I took Morrison’s Amazon food delivery wrappers to the waste chute. The fire door was wedged open into and from the flat’s lobby area. Some work of some sort was taking place. The lighting of some sort, I believe.
I limped (the flipping feet are getting even more painful now?) down through the lift lobby and to the waste room door at the end to the left.
I partly trapped my knuckle in the cast iron lid as I shoved the bags into the chute. Nothing new; I’m becoming something of an expert in doing this!
Back to the flat lobby and through into 72 Woodthorpe Court single apartment. Well, I would; I live there. Hahaha! I may be losing it again here?
I got some Facebooking done and the WordPress reading. Later, got the oven warming up for the nosh, specifically the battered chips.
Esther returned with the washing, all done. Oh, the tongue lashing I suffered. I’ve no idea what they were about, mind you. But they flowed at me without relenting or relaxing for a good few minutes. Deafness can have its advantages. Hehe!
I’ll get the meal started, and then, if I don’t fall asleep, try to get the top Ode-making started. Got the beer-battered chips in the oven and got some WordPress comments answered, then went to check the ovens in the chips… or even the chips in the oven.
Enjoyed this plateful immensely. Especially the beer-battered chips. And soft bloomer sliced bread.
A Taste-rating of 8/10 was given. Then, as I had failed to get any desserts with the food order (my fault, Doreen Dementia’s), I guiltily had one of the baby bananas. You can see how small they were here. Tasty lovely. I’m not sure, but I might have heard it crying as I bit into it! Hahaha!
Washed the pots up. And then proceeded to drop the washing-up liquid bottle to the floor via my right toes. What a mess! Got it sorted out and just finished it.
♫ Oh, Susana ♫ rang out, and in came the Evening Carer. Well, Carers, mob-handed. Hehehe! They got the medications sorted, and we had a three-way natter for a couple of minutes, and off they went. Bless ’em.
I got the TV turned on, and there was no reception at all? Mayhaps the electricians, needed to turn off some connection to get done whatever they were doing? So, I put in a Heartbeat DVD to watch. The message came up No DVD inserted! Oh!
I reset the Freeview system. But only a third at most of the channels were loaded, and all West Midlands? So, reset again, picking the ‘All’ option. This time it came up and seemed to be working. But the DVD wasn’t having it! Humph!
I could see the sky’s colour changing through the paper-thin curtains. And nipped out to take a photo of the unique cloud and sky colouring. Not the brightest I’ve seen by a long shot, but I thought it was an awe-inspiring bit of nature.
Fifteen minutes later, the glow of the sun’s setting permeated the room, and I hobbled into the kitchenette. To take this picture. Another masterpiece of nature. I’m so glad I didn’t fall asleep now. But soo regretted thinking this.
The sixth night on the trot of being unable to get to sleep. Couldn’t read a book, thanks to cataracts, glaucoma and saccades. Put the TV on but could not hear it or read the subtitles easily. But kept springing awake again, seemingly every five minutes or so. After perhaps twenty jump-awakes on the 21st, I gave up and rose onto my feet for a wee-wee. It was hard work and well gone midnight before I drifted off…
I’d have loved to have written my verse cleverly… Be intelligent, superior, educated, and academically! Blend words in rhyme that folk view as appreciatory, But Doreen’s Dementia makes me do it clumsily… Not that the comments sound exactly derogatory… My viewers’ total is abysmal, or worse, evidently,
I try not to write this blog grouchily… Make it fun, folks, to read it happily… I may, at times, add things that sound grumpy, That’ll be of Doreen and Peripheral Neuropathy, Though sometimes, to me, the reality is illusory… And I’ve never ever won the lottery!
Like now, my plots and thoughts have gone hazy? This can happen for days at a time, not momentarily, Semi-logic can return, within a few days, ordinarily, But of course, please remember this is not obligatory, During my brain’s down-times, there’s still diversity… Trying to control it brings much lachrymosity!
I often dream of acquiring omnipotency… Of course, I can’t, so carry in my impecuniosity… It’s not just money & wealth, of which I have a scarcity! But also suasion, wisdom, rationality, logicality… Folks tell me, I have endless inconsequentiality? I think this is similar to insignificance or banality? No doubt, I need help mentally… and exigently!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
04:35: Rose for a wee-wee. Kettle on, sorted waste bags. Had a rinse, got partly dressed, and got the kettle on.
Getting dressed, I thought it looked like the right leg’s foot was darker than the left leg? But mustn’t complain, cause the rest of the leg and ankle looked far better than yesterday!
Took off the pad from yesterday’s INR Warfarin blood test and could not help bus picture my beautiful, precious, and pretty beloved Haematology nurse Hristina in my mind! ♥
Sphygmomanometerisationing was done next. The SYS was up 26 points to 140, DIA up by 2 to 63, and the Pulse had fallen somewhat to 77. Checked on the NHS site; The Ideal is between 60 and 100 beats per minute (bpm). That means it must have been high spot on, indeed perfect, for several weeks. The body temperature was well down again, low for several days; according to the NHS, 35°c is the optimum?
I got on the computer, and my brain froze. What I was doing, I had no idea, really. This has happened now and then since the stroke. It can often last for a few hours, like waking up, but with no memory of the period of blankness. I named them Mind-Blanks. Then you worry about what you’ve been getting up to! It only lasted about an hour or so, I think. It seemed that I had started another blog template and been working on the wrong one. I really got annoyed when I discovered this! I swore at myself, and I wanted to give up!
Richard the Carer arrived, and it helped pull me around. Not that I wasn’t still a little miffed ant the Mind-Blank happening. Even though it hasn’t happened for a week or two. I think? Rich’ got the Alert Alarm battery checked and gave me my medications. As we had a much-missed chinwagging session, I went to put the mini-hoover back on its charger and…
As I was bent down to reach the socket, Neuropathy Pete instructed his neurotransmitters to give me a flailing leg dance! I dropped the mini-hoover (I hope I’ve not broken anything), and I clung dearly to the electric shelf. It was all over within a few minutes, and no rumblings or injuries. That was due to Carer Richard’s quick response in getting to me in time. I’m pretty sure (although it was a short affair, it was brutal while it lasted) that it would have had me over had I been on my own.
Two cameras, a remote, and the SDH card reader have given up on me in the last few days. Mind-Blanks, Leg Dances, Dizzies, Falls and tumbles are getting more frequent. Doreen’s Dementia, Cataracts Kathleen, and Glaucoma Gladys have all been having a go at me! Best if I say no more on the subject, methinks!
Took this snap of the rain, made a brew, and pressed on, trying to get the mess I’d made on WordPress understood and corrected; it was hard work that needed concentration. But, it went well for about two hours, progress-wise, and then Esther came bundling in to get the laundry. That shot my attention to pieces.
I began to make progress again. Esther returned with the laundry. Boy, can she talk? Hehe! Unfortunately, she does it when walking away from me and in the other room. Not the foggiest of what she’s saying half the time.
Well, I’ve got to get a rest. I’ll make some canned tomatoes and soya and use the old bread. After that, I can envisage myself just falling asleep until the evening carer wakes me up… there are about four hours in which I can make, eat the meal and some precious sleep… if that is possible.
Extra-chopped tomatoes with pieces of soya. And some slices of milk roll bread… well, half the loaf! Gobbled it up at my leisure slowly and enjoyed it. The Flavour rating for this one was 7.5/10! Washed the pots and was soon in the land of nod. Dream filled, though. No details are recalled, yet I still know that I had dreams?
An hour or so later, Evening Care Valerie arrived, and the shock of the chime bursting out and waking me shook me a bit… at first, I thought I was still in my dream. Hehehe! As I stirred and Valerie came, I realised that although I had got my jammie bottoms on, I was topless this time. Still, she didn’t mind my bulbous, adipose, abdominous, podgy paunch that bounced around in front of me when I stood up. Humph! Val got me sorted out, and I handed her some nibbles in thanks, and off she trotted, kindly taking the waste bag from the door with her for me.
I considered staying up to get on with this blog, but with all the cock-ups and mistakes I’d made earlier in the day, I decided to get back down in the c1968 second-hand recliner and get back to whatever the dream was about. And I did!
Ten minutes later, ♫Oh, Susana♫ rang from the door chime again. I whipped a jacket on quickly and went to open the door – It was Valerie back again.
She had gone back to the Meridian Office and found a letter from the DVT Anticoagulation Clinic changing the Warfarin dosages. Bless her, she realised she’d just given me the wrong dosage earlier and returned to give me more to agree with the new dosage roster. This should have been provided by whoever was in charge (surely?) to the night carer? But it had been left on the desk. Fortunately, the new dosages had increased, and Valerie gave me the extra tablet to put things right for me.
The thought was that had Val not found this new rota or the doses had gone down, not up, it would have been too late, and it meant I could be in a pickle medically if I had a bleed and an increased risk of a heart attack, blood-clot, and or stroke. Methinks Meridian, who has just put their prices up, has made a mistake. Be interesting to see if I get an apology this time. Valerie saved the day, anyway!
EMBARRASSMENT! As I was taking the Warfarin tablet, it dawned on me – I did not have my jammie bottoms on! I red-facedly thanked Val, and she shot off, Bless her cotton socks!
This morning, my depression turned to contemplation, First, a few moments of deep retrospection, What ifs, maybes and with some reprehension… With mixed feelings, I recalled Thatcherisation, A spirit that shocked and scared the whole nation, Can’t keep his pants on John Major, constipation! Tony Blair, liar, self-advancer and chancer… revulsion! Gordon Brown, debt maker, indeed, no statistician, Runaway Etonian, smug, arrogant but shit… Cameron,
Theresa May, Grenfell Fire, Tory Council, on the next day, Lessons from the fire would be learned, she did say… Visited the aftermath and was chased away! Kensington & Chelsea London Borough Council, well they… … are responsible, but Tories: So, no prosecutions to this day!
Guilt, self-blame, and self-recrimination led to self-expostulation, Whatever came to mind led me to self-recrimination… Black depression, I’d lost control and rationalisation… I needed a bit of luck… to regain my motivation… Eventually, I settled for acceptance of insanity and self-irrision! It seems my life will never get any moments that are ambrosian, Then again, there’s is there ever any justification…
But no! I shall fight this darkness by being conciliatory, Apart from the ailment, deafness, and cataract, I can see… Most of the other problems are down to my past stupidity! The guilt should be expected and accepted, you see… Bad choices, and decisions, are coming back to haunt me! So how do I fight them off to get my mind guilt-free? I just have to sulk and take the blame compliantly!
I found when reading this that it flows with duplexity… My rambling thoughts get entangled, incipiently… Reviewing failures is a wise thing, necessitously… I’ve so many ailments and faults characteristically, And a stomach that bulges grows, excrescently! I struggle through each day rather incompetently, Thought storms and depressions are just an inevitability! This does not stop me from wanting happiness, such a pity!
Inchcock is now out of his Dracula Depression,
The main reason was his guilt; he now shows contrition…
The reasons for this, there’s a combination…
Well, several really, starting with his visit to the fridge,
He found some mushroom pate, just a smidge…
Not a common pate; this one had caramelisation!
With chips in his freezer, this eased his deprivation!
Chips, pate, tomatoes for his palettes delectation…
He loves his comfort food, and that’s no exaggeration,
He now accepts his loneliness and being Godforsaken…
First, though, this blog to do; he also loves his scriptitations!
Due to my taking so long to do the ode, a shortened version. Sorry!
After falling asleep early last night, I sprang awake at 01:30hrs. Wee-wee, wash, wee-wee.
Sorted out a waste bag or two, passed wind, and shot to the wet room to utilise the Porcelain Throne – Trotsky Terence controlled – Messy! Decided to get the ablutions done. A lot of cleaning was already needed after the almost liquid evacuations.
Got the computer on. I loaded pictures from yesterday.
Latest local Covid figures.
I’m assuming Tuesday night, a meal from earlier, not positive as to which day it was on. But Dementia Doreen is not letting me access the old memory easily at this moment. She is a bugger!
Getting back into the room after ablutionalisationing. The legs, ankles and feet were looking a little less battered about. But Arthur Itis and Cathy’s Cartilage were giving me some sticks.
Carer Richard arrived. Looking well done in after his shift. He said he had another call to make, so he could not stop for a decent natter. But still gave me a few minutes, bless him.
Herbert kept me company over the next couple of hours as I started updating yesterday’s blog. Got it finished as Herberts stopped his banging and clanging. Which was nice not to hear.
I took a break, and hobbled around the flat, did the belated balance exercises, and did a bit of bending, but this routine was restricted by Cathy and Arthur Itis. But no Dizzy Dennis visits yet. Yehaa!
Facebooked on TFZ and Winwood Heights pages. Did some WordPress Reading, then Comments reading and answered. Computing again, I Finished and posted the blog.
Made a start on the ode for this blog. The ideas were coming so fast I could hardly type them fast enough… thus it took me hours and hours to get it finished, and a multitude of errors had to be corrected.
Herbert gave me good hours of bangs, scraping noises, tap-tapping, and finishing his concert with a proper crunch-thud. Silence after that? I hope the haughty, snobby, pompous gentleman has not injured himself and is not lying up there, bleeding in agony.
I put the computer in sleep mode, rose from the swivel chair, and went into the balcony to have a moment’s peace. Took the Canon camera with me and shot the end car park
RVM, the Red-Van-Man van, had parked even further into the yellow chevron No Parking Zone. Still, it is not too important an issue with all the murders, prison escapes, stabbings, and children being mauled and killed by dogs.
I pressed on with the blog, but tiredness overcame me. It does that occasionally, I’ve noticed!
I called my Precious Jillie (Ex Carer) to see if she’ll be in tomorrow, and I can drop off the flowers for her. (Assuming that J Sainsbury’s delivers them and not a block of lard as one of their famous substitutes!) Luckily she agreed. So on the way down to get some cash from the hole in the wall.
I can pop them into Jill’s home, go to the bank, and then Ozan, the Continental Shop, for their delicious vegetarian beef, sausages and sourdough bread (Not on order from JS). No doubt some other bits that will catch my eye.
I turned off the computer, planning to get my meal, head down, and wake alter to complete the blog-finishing mission.
I got the nosh prepped and served up. Potato fries, finely crushed tomatoes, veggie bacon, and a pot of the delicious instant mash with veg sausage bits and a gravy flavour. Not a mixture one would usually have, but I was tired, confused, and a smidge fed-up at the time. But it tasted okay, and I ate most of it. Taste Rating: 7/10.
Stripped and washed, I got down in the £300 second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable, unfit-for-use, not working recliner, underneath a blanket. Determined to get to sleep…
On the verge of nodding off, I realised I was naked, and the Carer was due in about an hour… So, not wanting to make the mistake of greeting a Carer with no trousers on again, I got some jammie bottoms, and a t-shirt on, about to get back down in the chair, and needed a wee-wee rather urgently, and made my way to the bucket…
I stubbed my toe on the wheel of the recliner as I lost my balance… banged my already painful Arthur Itis and Cathy Cartilage patella on the arm of the chair, swore, nearly pee’d myself but got there in time… had a somewhat sad wee-wee, and emptied the now nearly-full NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), washed and disinfected it.
Eventually, I got resettled in the recliner. Once again, on the verge of drifting off to sleep… and ♫Oh, Susana♫ chimed from the doorbell, and Carer Valerie came in. I was not entirely with it, but she got me sorted, and unknown to me at the time, she washed meal things for me. Bless her!
Gave up, got up, and got back on the Computer. Sleep had been taken of of my agenda now. I turned the TV on to watch a Heartbeat episode, nodded, and missed the last ten minutes.
I cheered up a bit when the Card Reader started working again, and I got this photographicalisation that I took earlier of semi-puffer clouds. Tsk! I thought I saw a claw, but I can’t find it now.
It is now just gone midnight. And I’ll post this off and try again to get some sleep, Sweet Morpheus permitting, of course.
Waking up this morning, it was almost staggering, No cramps in the hands or legs, free of any hurting, I rose from the recliner; the sunshine was twinkling, Then, I felt my stomach suddenly itching… And found some new patches of bruising, What, where, why or how was just bemusing… No time to ponder on these, as I got an inkling… At the same time, my innards started rumbling… Get to the Porcelain Throne before there’s any leaking… From Inchies fungal lesion, the blood was trickling! I thought things were going so well; this it’s sickening! To the wet room, shaving and medicating…
Came out of the wet room to start prepping Josie’s beef & veg chilli. To add to the meat and beans later, I got two saucepans filled, one with the chill and seasoned it, the other with the fresh leeks and mushrooms cooking. Merged them later, tasted and added a bit of chilli to them.
The timing for the need for Porcelain Throne was a good one this time; I’d just finished the prepping. No pain, no bleeding and no liquids flowing out. No pain, no bleeding and no fluids flowing out. No pain, no bleeding and no juices flowing out. What a sensational (I don’t mean to get excited, but this was relatively rare for me).Almost a pleasure! Cleared the kitchen mess I’d made doing the prepping and took the waste bags to the doorway.
08:20hrs, a little later than usual… Oh, no, it’s the weekend, always odd hours at the weekend); the Carer, Chloe, I think, arrived. A nice gal. Did the medications, and I insisted she take some nibbles in thanks. ♥
I tested Josies’ fodder, and it tasted and looked good.
I lowered the heat to a keep-warm level and remembered to stir it regularly (mostly).
Got the computer on, and to my utter amazement, the card reader worked straight away. So I got the photo’s uploaded into CorelDraw before the connection was lost. I was not getting too hopeful that some miracle had happened and thought the SD reader had repaired itself and would work properly again. Because it hasn’t done so for many months now. But that’s a good start, having two things so greatly improved… the card reader (It failed again next time) and the Porcelain Throne Session being virtually pain and bleeding-free! Am I waffling?
Here are the photos rescued, with a bit of guessing as to when and why they were. (Dementia Doreen!)
A blood pressure reading that had gone up a bit.
Not sure what day these were taken, of course… possibly Friday or Saturday? Maybe?
Obviously, a morning check this one was. Dark without my using the flash, it seems.
See? Hehe! I can have these moments of inspiration… sometimes.
I wish I could remember which day this captured an infrequent miracle of our beloved bad parking expert, the Red-Van-Man, using a proper parking slot!
Mind you, someone had nicked his usual spot on the yellow keep-clear chevrons near the grey and white, whatever it is. Hehehe!
Don’t worry; he reclaimed it the next day!
A simple, quick meal for Inchcock here? Potatoes, tomatoes and a veggie burger, with dessert to follow. It must have been one of his staying up late nights; he’s had a lot of them recently with computer and internet problems suffering.
Aha, my Amazon delivery. Now which day was that, Friday, mayhaps?
This is of products thus delivered.
I tried one of the potato-mash pots last night, I think, and was very impressed with their taste.
Ah, the jolly Winwood Heights Red-Van-Man reclaiming his illegal, naughty parking spot.
Below: A view of the car park on Chestnut Way in front of the flats.
I’m assuming I took this photo due to the novelty of seeing a scooter parked up, all very neat and precisely done. Well done!
Ah, I’m almost sure this was Saturday night’s, nosh. Of course, my being certain is equal to an average person’s ‘I’m guessing. Hehehe! I do remember the taste of this one. Ding on mushroom pate is a treat for me, and a taste rating of 8.5/10 was granted. The only thing that was not up to scratch for me were the potatoes, which were not cooked enough! Me… getting baked potatoes wrong! I am ashamed!
I found an interesting bit on the remember notepad when I got here. As my Cataracted eyes read it… it said: “Worill conf/st bg hag” I did not have the foggiest of what it meant. Can anyone help me?
Beginning to get to me now. Pretty persistent with the clumping, banging and scratching-like noises. Any more, and I will have to retaliate with a good clouting of the overhead pipework with Metal-Micky… No, no, no, that’ll make me as ignorant and uncaring as the contemptuous, hoity-toity, sullen, toploftical Herbert is. I must not sink to his naughty-haughty ways.
I got Josies Sunday meal sorted and delivered to her door. I used one of the new porcelain bowls. A strawberry cheesecake for dessert, the usual treats for her to keep her going, and an extra dollop of chilli in another container so she can microwave it for later on whenever she fancies it.
I took her a different can of plonk today. A Woo-Woo, which is popular with the Carers. Hahaha! I don’t think she was impressed with it, so back to the G&T next week. The chilli tasted good to me as I tested it.
I went back to the flat and cleaned up the mess from the cooking. Then onto the computer and got the blog for Fri-Sat done and posted off. Facebooked, Pinterested, then WP Reader, then Comments tackled. I made a start on this blog’s layout.
This time it went down for ages. After half an hour, I gave up and got myself a quick nosh made up.
I cooked two veggie burgers and added a part-baked baguette later. Cut the bread into four pieces, halved the burgers and inserted each in a baguette slice. Took this snap of it.
Then, I added the last banana, the last strawberry cheesecake, and some pickled gherkins and took this photograph. Went into the main room, settled with the tray on my knee, put the goggle box on…
Realised I’d not put the tomatoes on the plate! I got up carefully, not wanting to drop the tray of food, which I avoided.
Went to the kitchenette fridge to get some tomatoes… Boy, what a toe-stubbing I gave myself on the wheel of the server trolley!
Then, the neurotransmitters failed, and I dropped the pack of tomatoes on the floor! Argh!
The Evening Carer arrived just after I’d done the washing up from the meal. I think it was the lovely Chloe again? But Doreen’s Dementia does play tricks with me constantly. Grumph!
But no! I’m amazed I can still do this blog. It takes a long time, though, a lot too long. With the Peripheral Neuropathy, Arthur Itis, Colin Cramps, Dizzy Dennis etc. I was well tired out by now, washed, changed, and got down in the c1968 recliner, intending to watch something or other on the telly…
But, a good thing: it was the much-needed, well overdue precious Sweet Morpheous who took quickly took control. Zzzz!
The scientist & owner of the 46 laboratories, Billum; Master of Computational Finance, Master of Science in Teaching now retired. Has put his developments in his underground laboratories of a Time-Machine and Automatic Pickled Walnuts Slicer developments, experiments and creation on hold, all in the name of empathy and care of blogger Inchcock. Why? I’ll tell yer…
Billum invited Inchcock to come to his scientifically outstanding latest additional laboratory, dedicated to Medicationalistical ailments in the elderly. Having read the news about the Nottingham pensioner was having with his Cataracts, Glaucoma and Saccades in the sad old twits blog. He’s got plenty of his own, yet magnanimously and with great beneficence, Billum offered Inchcock to visit and “Have your Eyes Checked” in Laboratory 102, dedicated to Optical Solutioning! A marvellous offer and gesture, which the old Nottinghamian jumped at the eleemosynary offer. (Not literally, of course, jumping awake, yes, he can and does do… I’m waffling off of topic here again; sorry!)
Someone so far away, with his own ailments to cope with, and cares for others… That’s Billum! On arrival, they fed me, washed me, and we were soon going down to Laboratory-102. A fantastic, amazingly dazzling reception area… I think that his son Alan is the one who deals with the building side of things.
Billum’s other half, HRH Lisa, came in and gave me a sexy, pulse-prompting dance routine to the sounds of 1970s music. While Billum checked on Google, I assume to refresh his memory on cataracts, glaucoma and saccades?
It seemed like no time; it does when you are enjoying yourself. Before Billum took me through to his newest Laboratory-102.
He started his examination of my eyes…
Amid so many tests, prodding, probes and the usage of, to me, unidentifiable optical machines, some that played music, others that hummed, I smelt the perfume of my beloved (but don’t tell Billum) Sweet Petal, HRH Lisa… it was tantalising and moved my loins. Or maybe the painkiller that Petal Lisa gave me caused hallucinations? It contained Codeine, CBD and Cáñamo Hashish, whatever they are, but I felt no pain; they worked a treat!
I was spoilt rotten afterwards!
ODE TO THE VISIT
They sat me on a luxurious settee,
That was warming; they were lovely…
Served biscuits and a mug of Glengettie tea,
Petal Lisa came in and sat with me…
Billum was typing his assessment, you see…
The cats jumped up on my knee,
Petal Lisa, gemtly kissed me… ♥
I realised the tests done by Billum, for free!
I asked Petal Lisa if she wanted an adoptee?
Billum came in his report in hand and calmly…
Said, “It’s’ alright, you’ve got two eyes, not three!
That sort of puzzled and confused me…
Billum gave me a large bottle of CBD…
I went to take a wee-wee…
It didn’t flow very freely…
I said I know I’ve two eyes anyway…
Billum added, rather pleasantly,
Well spotted, and sent me away!
I make these blogs for Billum and Lisa, my Petal, Not for anything that is epithetical… But to raise a laugh, which to me is congenital, For Billum, Alan and my precious Lisa Angelical! I believe a laugh is as effective as hexobarbital,
Enough of this waffle, I need another pittle, Usually a painful trickle… But releasing it is vital… But having a laugh, trying to be comical… To me, is worthy and commonsensical! Even in this ode, that’s pathetical!
Got lost twice, forgot I’d got no trousers on… Oh, dearie me!
A Tale of Inchcock’s Day(Five Hours), Out on Tuesday
After another ever-waking-up night’s lack of sleep, I woke and was about to launch into a state of blaspheming Sweet Morpheus’s reluctance to let me stay asleep. Fed-uppedness, niggardlyness, and a smidge of feeling sorry for myself.
But, Dementia Doreen allowed me to remember about the hospital visit today, and the bitterness dissipated, to be replaced by a remarkably determined Inchcock, who set about getting all the things needed for the hospital visit. (Fair enough, he did forget some items, Humph! I felt almost reborn… not the proper terminology, but close.
I waited until it was late enough, and then I decided to get the ablutions done. What a great session! There were only two tiny cuts shaving, one clouting the head against the power box when I bent to retrieve the loofah I’d dropped in the shower. Great! That was it Whoopsie and Accifauxpas wise.
Naturally, something had to go wrong after that wonderful start to the day. Gragnangles! I sorted out suitable things to wear, got the risky job done first, and put the diabetic bamboo socks on. The comfortable-wearing long ones.
But I had to use Sock-Glide-Glenda. True to form, I trapped my fingers twice, the same ones, of course, on each sock. That thick plastic gripper is deadly! I got a welt and a couple of bruises as well. But this did not put me off cause I intended to do my best to get the go-ahead with cataract operations, and after a couple of mild oaths, I carried on and went to gather the other needs of the morning.
Comfortable shoes, trousers, jumper, and the sleeveless jacket with all the pockets in it. It’s lasted a long time this one, I said to myself, as I got the camera (not much chance to use it though, Tsk!) and emptied the pockets to place the needed items for the trip…
Oh, ‘ecky thump! After emptying things out to make room, and started to put the paperwork, keys and the Crossword book in the jacket… They each fell right through and dropped on the floor at my feet! What’s going on here, I muttered! I went into Sherlock Holmesian Mode (I do that sometimes).
The entire lining had seemed to go rotten! Only one of the twelve pockets was useable! Undeterred, I limped into the hallway to see if those hanging up had fared better. Two of them had not, and they joined the blue one in the extra-large bin bag! Humph! I checked the khaki one’s pockets. All seemed okay, so I swapped the emptied contents in that jacket. Got the PP’s, trousers and best jumper on.
I realised that Carer Richard was due shortly, so I thought I’d better check I’d not left anything on the floor in the hallway for him to trip over; he’s a good lad.
Guess what? In my haste, I stubbed my toe on the towel airer, lost balance, and was entangled with the tipped-over airer and towel on the floor! With new welts on various parts of my knee, head and face! Unglefrogwonglingisations! I later found that I’d broken a tooth as well. My spirits were getting a little lower than they were earlier. Cor, blimey!
I worked on finishing the blog, and the ♫Oh Susana♫ tune belted out from the doorbell. I expected to see Richard come in, but no! Another… I’d not unlocked the door!!! So all that pain and hassle was for nothing! I had left some stuff on the floor on the plus side and was pleased to move them if Richard did a Whoopsie of his own on them.
I went to admit the lad; he was alright about things. He soon got on with the medicationing for me. With a wry smile on his mush at my antics, forgetting to unlock the door, the marks on my face and head etc… We both saw the funny side. Hahaha!
I finished changing and was ready for when the lift arrived to get me to the ophthalmology clinic.
The door chime rang again; the door was unlocked, but whoever it was didn’t come in. It was Josie returning her dish and tray from her Sunday lunch. She did not say she liked it… Oh, dear! At least she didn’t say there was something she didn’t like about it?
The intercom rang and flashed – Aha, it was the ambulance lift. I told the man I’d come down, saving them the bother of coming all the way up then down again.
I made my way out of the apartment and down and out through the main lobby. Two ambulance men? Perhaps they’d heard stories about me? Hahaha!
The journey was uncomfortable, but all of the old ambulances I’ve been in were. So I anticipated it.
When we arrived, friendly and slowly driven, at the Queens Medical Centre, both lads came with me to the ophthalmology department waiting room.
Then took me to the waiting area. I could not hear anything the receptionist said, and one of the men translated for me. I realised then that I’d not put the crossword book in the coat or walker trolley. Shame that, cause it’s the only book I can read the clues on at the moment.
So I sat there, nosing at all around me. Bored rigid! But it didn’t take long for a lovely, attractive young lady to call my name out – but I didn’t hear it at first, and the gal took the bother to come and ask me, Hehe!
She led me to a small room with many machines for an ophthalmology-specific procedure. The blast in the eyes and many tests were patiently done on the beads. Deep family history was gone into, and about an hour later, I was returned to the waiting area to await being called by the Ophthalmologist.
During my wait to be summoned, I learned a lot, such as the lady in a cream coat is having smoked haddock for supper tonight. The man and woman and an elderly pair do not like the TV cookery programmes other than Gordon Ramsay’s. A lady in a uniform but not a nurse or medical one was annoyed when someone phoned her. I could not hear the other natterings, the acoustics are not good in a big hall. Hehe!
The Ophthalmologist lady came for me and led me to an even smaller room this time. Heck of a lot of examining and questions were gone through.
With Peripheral Neuropathy, I had trouble keeping my chin on the plastic thingamabob and had to look up all the time. The lady was not impressed or amused. She had to keep starting whatever she was doing again. I don’t think I was very popular at all. I did explain my conditions when I went in.
The eyes were tested using a log mar chart. In-depth history and current problems with sight. The Doctor knew what she was doing alright, it seemed to me. But I had to keep asking her to repeat things. Very quietly spoken lass.
I guesstimated about an hour later, and she gave me her diagnosis. Cataracts in the right eye only would be done; although you have cataracts in that left eye, they are not as bad as the right one. We’ll see how you are going with it when this operation is done before tackling glaucoma. She will refer me to the surgeon, 12-week an average waiting time.
During my appointment, she’d noticed Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and my right-leg dance. She was concerned because of the delicate nature of the operation. Even seeing in one eye sees is better than none. It can only be done with no movement from the patient at all! This doesn’t bode well! Nevertheless, I was ticked pink at it going ahead.
I was told to go to the main reception to arrange a lift home. I didn’t expect a lift back, so I was even more gee’d up now. I was feeling perkier now.
But I was soon back in my typical frame of mind, feeling a bit of a fool! I could not remember where the main reception was. I set off, trying to retrace my earlier route in reverse, and ended up in a room that looked like it had many babies all over the place? I withdrew hastily! Found someone to ask where the main eye clinic reception was located. And realised it was one of the receptionists I couldn’t hear talking a few hours ago when I arrived. Hahaha!
Anyway, I found it, and I had the job of hearing what the gal at the counter was saying again. She scowled at me and pointed in the direction of a two-seater settee in the corner near the door. “I’ve to wait there, then?” I think she almost clapped when she realised I’d got the message. She put a thumb up for me! Har-har!
I don’t know how long they were coming, but I was glad they were. When Richard arrived, he was cheerful enough. Then I made yet another cock-up…
By pure luck, I took a right turn and found my way to the outer door, seeing the two men looking for me! I couldn’t keep up with the chap and lost him and my direction again! Now I did feel like a complete idiot!
They got me inside and buckled in and went to get another patient from across the roadway. No problem. While they were out, I got my Canon camera and took some photo’s inside the ambulance. The first one is through the window on the back of the driver’s cab (above). Then one through the top side windows. At least I got a few photographs on my trip out, my escape from the flat.
Finally, one of the side doors and my beloved, makes-me-feel-safe three-wheeler walker. No patient came with them. So we set off for Sherwood and Woodthorpe Court independent living flats!
We were soon back at the flats after a carefully driven journey. The lads refused a treat of the cans in thanks from my bag. Ah, well!
But I wanted to make a start on this blog, which I did. I got in the flat, had a wee-wee, got the kettle on, got my trousers off, cut up, and cubed some potatoes to do in the oven. After an hour or so, the floor chime burst forth again…
To my utter surprise, it was the Evening Carer Nichola… no, sorry, Natalie. My inner clock had gone all pear-shaped with the visit to the clinic. After she’s been here a few minutes, I realised that I had no trousers on!
I apologised hastily when I realised; it must have been a terrible sight for her. We managed a laugh about it, but I felt awful and openly cursed Dementia Doreen! Embarrassment, shame, self-loathing and feeling an almighty, right a proper twit, all flourished!
Worked on this blog. (I did get it finished) I’ll do this in the morning (Now). I was up late, and when I realised it was gone midnight, I was getting fed up with myself.
I concentrated on getting some much-needed food and made myself a quick meal. A can of the wonderful-tasting Morrison’s saver chilli con carnie and some potato cubes did them in the oven, to crisp them a little. A simple and cracking meal! It could have been because I was ravenous and tired and frustrated. I added only liquid salt and a splash of Worcester sauce and vinegar for the potatoes. I gave this effort a mammoth flavour rating of 9.2/10! Really enjoyed it!
The mess that I made making the potatoes, and doing the washing up, soon brought me back down to earth. Hehehe!
Review of the Day – In Odes
Sweet Morpheus didn’t allow me much sleeping… Throughout the night, I would wake up jumping! But I did remember, today, the EENT hospital visiting… The best session for weeks, the ablutioning… The Porcelain Throne visit was messy and paining… I forgot to unlock the door; the Carer couldn’t get in…
A stubbed toe fell over the airer, got entangled within, Sock-Glide-Glenda left me with cuts, bruises, hands and shin! Emptied my jacket, things fell out, on the floor dropping… The inner lining had apparently been rotting!
Took me hours to sort another coat out, And swap things around the pockets… Got it sorted and dressed to look smart… Almost forgot to put the drops in the eye sockets…
Then the ambulance arrived, and I was soon in… Thanks, to them, for to the hospital were driving… The receptionist, I could not hear talking… Some advised me of what they were saying… Then to another waiting room, I was soon going…
First examination in-depth, the lady was engaging… Back to the waiting room, results awaiting… Got the okay, then moved to another area of seating… Had a chat with a lady who was fortysomething…
The second exam, even deeper, by a lady appealing… Eye drops were applied, and my head was reeling… Back to the waiting room, I did some earwigging… Awaiting being called back for assessing…
More tests on a machine and blinking… I smiled and gave the lady some blinking… But I didn’t get any return acknowledging…
To the Main Reception, to get a lift home, I was pleased! But Dementia Doreen sent the memory adrift… I got lost en route; I panicked and wheezed… Felt a fool, ashamed and almost had a tift!
Found the reception, a stranger helped translate, Sit in that chair (pointing) and for your transport wait… So I did and didn’t have long to wait… A driver came, said, follow me, mate…
I tried to follow him, but he walking relatively swift… Chasing after him gave me a glift, boy, could he shift… I lost him and got a bit miffed… Panicked a bit and gave a little snift… But found him outside, looking a bit squiffed…
Got home and lost all sense of timing… The mind felt like it was abseiling… Took my clothes off, nice and cooling, Started with the day’s blogging… Along came the evening Carer; I was welcoming… Until I realised I had no trousers on, and started scaring! Felt like an idiot, started self-caterwauling, Embarrassed, ashamed, frustrating!
Well gone midnight got some nosh cooking,
Canned chill and potatoes, no casseroling,
Then turned my attention to sleeping…
Dreamed about Jillie and me, canoodling…
I think I started sweating and drooling…
A mortifyingly humiliating day, disconcerting!
Looking at an old photograph can stir memories, even in some Doreen Dementia suffers, like I am. So here are my initial ruminations of looking at this picture… They may come over as a little out of sync, but one’s thought triggers another. I had to be adding them than before I wrote what I was doing… then I forgot what I had started typing. Sometimes remembering later, begin to correct things, and another unrelated memory pops up… to be forgotten about again. Later on, I got all confused but carried on anyway. Sorry about this.
This now embarrassing, brownie-camera photographicalisation shows the signs of authentic poverty in which I grew up. Although, at the time, I believed we were luckier than some of the residents of Brookfield Place. But not many.
Obviously, I was scrubbed up using carbolic soap. I was redressed into pants that didn’t fit; the crumbling walls on the 1899-built two-up, two-down terraced house make me cringe when I see it now. See that? I was nine house bricks high at the time. Not much taller now!
Having a photo taken was an event in those days. I believe Mr Wright, whose family lived at the end of the small terrace, number 10 (I might be wrong, of course). Mr Wright was the only person nearby who was well off enough to own a camera then and generously took pictures and got them developed and given to those in them. A wonderful man.
Christine. Mr Wright and Jane are on holiday in Mablethorpe! I recall feeding the family dog Rover (No pets were allowed on the caravan site in those days.) each time Mr, Mrs Wright, and daughter Christine went on holiday, taking Sister Jane with them; after Jane returned home, I’d better explain that while I think of it.
A better-off side of the family, with five boys, wanted to adopt Sister Jane. Dad opposed this, the fights started, and it was agreed that Jane would of out to Italy with the family. Which left me thinking, Jane was ‘out there’ having a ball, while I was left with Dad (Mother had done another runner from the police). Had to do the cooking and what cleaning I could family. Clean out and set the fire but did not start it until I saw Dad coming home. He thought it was overspending to make a fie for only one person. Give him his dinner, and get the things ready for the morning in the coal house ready for clearing out and resetting again in the morning. So, the crux of it was; that I was a smidge jealous, thinking that Jane was out there, in the sunshine, wanting for nothing, living the life of Riley… While Jane was ‘over there’ thinking that I was at home, living the life of Riley! Hahaha! In truth, poor Jane was miserable and had it a lot worse than me! She was molested, had to be a maid to the boys… When we found out we were both miserable, we had to laugh. As I understand it, each of the lads, who are now men, has been arrested and found guilty of various nefarious offences. Worra family!
Recollections of the folks living near my beloved Brookfield Place came to mind.
From the left, Sister Janet, Inchcock, Christine Wright, Mrs Wright and Walter. Can’t remember what we were doing or where we were when taking the snap. Either Mr Wright to son Brian would have taken it?
This picture, I do remember having being taken. A Door-knock photographer took it (2/3d a photo 11p in today’s money). Not cheap! The rather distinguished-looking (I don’t know how or why I remembered that?) cameraman said it’s usual to have a girl and boys toy in hand. I recall Jame going up to get her teddy from the bedroom, and I nipped next door to borrow a ball from my mate Jack. On my behalf, returning to have the picture taken. But putting on that forced smile was almost painful for me. Har-har!
A terrible picture of my blonde locks. This brings a scary memory back to me. Often I would be in the backyard. Our house was about eight-foot from a railway viaduct. On the left in the top photo) I would be playing or chopping wood in the backyard and the train; it was a busy line, with Arkwright Street Station, high above the houses. We got goods, commuter and the London Express’s all passing throughout the day and night. The houses shook, the windows rattled, the light swayed…
Yet, they never woke me up or bothered me because I grew up with it. Later, when we moved to Ipswich Circus, it was so quiet that I couldn’t sleep for months! True!
I lost my plot there, didn’t I? Sorry, where was I?…
Oh, yes! In the backyard, a neighbour usually would run at me and start to beat me around the head. This is all genuine! I had to wait until they had stopped, to find out why they were clouting me… had I done something naughty (not unknown), or as it usually was, the hot ashes falling from the trains had set my hair on fire again. (Which, more often than not, was the case)
It’s not surprising that I started losing my hair at 20-years of age?
Christine Wright, in front of her house in Brookfield Place.
Not that Inchcock is creeping out behind her? Hehe!
I’ve no memory of this photograph being taken.
I think this one was taken in Wilford or West Bridgford.
Christine and Janet got me to pretend to be knocked over and lay under the Morris Ten car. Haha!
The next one, I can vaguely remember.
The hosepipe was out in the backyard. Fed through the window from Chrissie’s kitchen tap. It’s the summertime, and someone will get soaked, methinks… I vaguely remember grabbing the hosepipe in the cause of self-protection. When those two got together, there was always a danger of me being injured, embarrassed or molested! In this case, all three. And I got a good soaking, to boot!
♫ Memories are made of these… ♫
My family, as such, were Methodists, Wesleyan, Dad rarely went to church; Mother was an Aryan… We soon split up, first off to Sicily, went sister Jane, Brother Pete joined the army to help keep sane… Mother ran from the police, again and again… So it was just Dad and me in the main!
Education and affluence, to me, were strange… No class, I never heard of a counterpane… Then, I had no bad habits from which to refrain. As you’ll read above, I got set on fire by many a train, I’d never dined out or been on holiday or on a jet plane… I used to get bad headaches, not a posh migraine… But life was never dull or mundane!
I soon learned that nothing in life is free or certain! An outside toilet, in winter it froze up, even the chain! The only interest in sex came from the Chaplain… I never went abroad, to Italy, France or Bahrain, Shopped at jumble sales in search of a bargain… I was considered weird cause I didn’t like John Wayne! My searches for romance were all in vain!
My hopes for my future were low and uncertain, I’d sit in my flat, glumly looking out through the curtain, Plans and designs were ruined cause of my scatterbrain, At least I’ll never become part of Britain’s brain drain! My sanity was fluctuateable and hard to retain… Timourousness, trepidation, and a cruel self-disdain… My confidence and self-esteem had been mislain! Don’t suppose I’ll ever find them again?
Is my Alto-Ego me, or am I? Why do I even wonder why? Would I be happier as a troglodyte? Would I still like Marmite? I think I’m losing this brain fight… My last driblets of sanity are taking flight…
I’ve tried to do moral things and not to be profane, Up to now, I’ve avoided trying out cocaine, From alcohol, greed and bullying, I abstain, Yet feel my life is almost transmundane… Are my thoughts really mine or nongermane? Shit!… I’ve forgotten what I was going to write!
Little did I know the above-written ode would turn out! I’m worried now; I think I had a memory blank or blackout? Mistakes n everything I tried to create… a mental wipe-out! It took me all day to get the blog done, a mind whirlabout… Problems lasted hours… in fact all day, or thereabout? Couldn’t get to grips with the day, time, everything, a doubt? I had to keep stopping when the brain went on a gadabout…
Cataracts and glaucoma made things worse… The noisy, clang-banging Herbert above made me curse… Went to the Porcelain Throne; the evacuation was vicious, Rock-solid: it took me half an hour; this is not fictitious! It felt about the same size as a trolleybus! One aspect was not painful or scary; quite the reverse… Painful, yes, but no bleeding from the rear end, thus… Washed and did the Germoloid creaming. Oh, that soothes!
From Grammarly, mistakes of all sorts, I was being told, But I pressed on, which I thought was rather bold… Dizzy Dennis joined me; Herberts’ noises could still be heard, Why do I feel so bad could still not be answered,
So what I’m waffling on about… I did my best, but without any doubt… Faults mistakes you’ll quickly pick out… Dates and times mostly, serious and nowt… From start to finish, throughout… I suppose this Ode is a criticism redoubt!
I can’t really put a date as such, The photos, taken over 2½ days, It may be mixed up datewise in a rush… To get this blog done… with my mind in a haze, I dun me bestest, please don’t underpraise…
I’m depressed and in pain, in many ways, I really have had much betterer days and praise… The coming of tomorrow and better days, I’m hoping the confusion doesn’t overstay… And depression finally breaks away!
Forgive any duplicated photos put in,
With wrong dates & times, I know it’s a sin!
The ailments are bothering me out and within,
My hopes for improvement are relatively thin…
Good job that I don’t drink, or I’d have a gin!.
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Photographs & minimal Memories
By Jimminee, and jolly good heavens above, what an absolute improvement on yesterday’s sphygmomanometerisationing for the level of blood pressure! Comparing it to Thursdays, nerve-wracking 285 Sys!
It tumbled down to 148, and very welcome it was to see it!
The pulse had dropped as well.
Another good result from the thermometer.
It was a dead-on target at 35°c.
I think I was; I had a losing battle against Sock-Glide Glenda again in the wet room. SGG 3 – Inchie 0! It all happened so quickly. Having completed getting the socks on, I was, with only one tiny bruise on the foot, and as I stepped over the frame to grip Glenda to remove her… And seconds later, I was on the deck, entangled in her framework! With a bruise that anyone would be proud of on my shoulder. But then…
Getting up back to my feet (bear in mind I had not got any glasses on at the time). I lunged at the grab-rail to assist my getting up… and missed it entirely! I then had a new bruise to add to the shoulder and wrist ones on my flabby belly as I went back down again and made a painful connection with Sock-Glide-Glenda… again! A few scratches as well, but they are pretty. The Carer said so when she came. She was well impressed with the shoulder bruise. But her favourite was the blotch come bruise on my left man-breast nipple; she was very keen on the pinkness and swelling. Hahaha!
The Iceland food arrived. I’m sure I’ve put all these on before, but it won’t hurt for anyone who may order beef chunks from Iceland to see the photographs of the three packs I bought again. They were all within the sell-by date, too!
On Special offer, I just looked at this close up of the red and khaki coloured lumps they’d sent! It was the same or similar colouring? It reminded me of the only time I’ve seen horsemeat served.
The JS Sainsbury delivery. In the centre of this picture, on the right, you’ll see three tiny sourdough cobs that cost more than the milk roll bread. Talk about hard! Gawd, blimey, they were 80% crust. Did my teeth no good. But I ate what I could salvage from the concrete balls of sourdough later on?
The ‘Best’ potatoes all had growths of bruises on them.
Can’t recall what night I made this meal. But I can remember enjoying it pretty well. The fishcakes with peas in them were tasty enough, the potato waffles were terrible, as were the fish fingers, all vegetarian. The tomatoes tasted excellent, cake and banana, but the vegan cakes cost more money. The potatoes and peas were disappointing. Taste Rating: 6.5/10.
I think I’ve shown this photo, but I am not sure. Sourdough bread, the Polish style one, mushroom pate and tomatoes, a soft imitation cheese portion, were almost as bad as the cakes. But that bread and pate. Was gorgeous.
Mike Fries: A good looking, Mafia-type, $23 million wage earner – no, I’ll take that back, he is not an earner to me. But, I admire his cunningness in convincing his paymasters at Liberty-Global, to pay out $15 billion to buy out Mr Branson’s Virgin Media. Then instructing the UK telecom call-centre team, never to mention Liberty-Global to any customers? Thus, Mike Fries cannot get his $15b internet service to run for a day without going down several times – and Richard Branson gets all the name-calling and abuse. (He’s clever, you know!)
I imagine that if any proletariat call-centre person was caught mentioning the name Liberty-Global to any poor Virgin Media customers… The least they would come away with would be getting knee-capped & sacked?
He’s a Smoke & Mirrors expert. A figure-conjurer of the highest order. The bosses at the top get the complete treatment from his financial sleight of hand and legerdemain skills. They likely actually are being convinced by Fries of the competency of Virgin Media? Which, of course, does not exist.
There’ll be some financial hocus-pocus going on that convinces the top dogs of his profit-making for them, even if only on paper, so’s to speak. It’ll be out of my league!
I believe his flimflam, hanky-panky, and double-dealings will never be caught. So effective are his smoke & mirrors techniques.
This is a shame because despite wishing him a slow, excruciatingly painful death for his cheating ways and knackering me up every day with his Virgin internet repeatedly failing.
I like his style.
I’m jealous probably. Hahaha!
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Evening Carer’s just called. Another new gal, pleasant enough with me. I insisted she had some treats, a nibble and a drinkie for putting up with my constant moaning about life. Hehehe!
It’s late now; I’m ready for summat to eat and a kip. I’ve got some spuds baking, pod plead in the saucepan, and a veggie pastie to add to the potatoes if I don’t fall to sleep first. I’ll try to get this finished in the morning.
I’d like to stay awake long enough to get some sunset shots. If Colin Cramps visits again when I get down, I should at least get the sunset photo’d if no sleep. Har-Har!
As I was going to have a check on the fodder cooking, I heard a clattering noise from the room I’d just left. I went back to investigate…
The new giant faux-fur brown throw had somehow or other, slid off of the £300, c1968, second-hand, decrepit, rickety recliner, taking to the floor with it: my Wood-Waking-Stick-Walter, Picker-Upperer-Percival, Shoe-Horn-Horis, a towel, two pairs of trousers, a pot of Cheeselets, two bottles of spring water, and two cushions! Harrumph!
I got things sorted things out again. And then went back to the kitchen to get the meal prepped and served up. No sunset as such, but the view was eerily misty, enough for me to take a snap.
photographicalisation. Served up the fodder. Two veggie pasties, two potatoes baked, halved and plant butter added. fresh garden peas and tomatoes. A banana and pot of dessert. Taste Rating: 7.8/10.
I got sorted and down to try and stay awake long enough to watch my first episode of Grimm. It started at 22:00hrs, which is too late for me normally. I remember checking the schedule, and it was 15 minutes before Grimm started on the same channel… and thinking at last I’ll get to watch it… Of course, Sweet Morpheus got me, and off to kip, I went before seeing the program start!
I woke a few hours later, a selling channel was on then. I rose for a wee-wee and needed the Porcelain Throne as I was on my way to the wet room.
Rock-solid again! A good hour I was in there, going through pain and having to make it worse by giving my best supportive efforts to constantly edge the concrete torpedo out from the rear end. Gawd it felt good afterwards, though!