Inchcock Today: An Ode… May it be so Ode

Inchcock’s Ode

May it be so…

May the Spirit of ententes cordiales flow,
May violence receive a counterblow,
May greed and jealousy become a side-show,
May peace reign through the world we know,
May contentment be for all tomorrow…
May hatred and spite receive their deathblow,
May all humans have no need to borrow,
May we all be a friend and not a foe!
May the river of love… ever reflow,
But will sanity ever return to Moscow?

I live in hope… but…

Inchcock Today: Monday 21st February 2020

Inchcock Today: Monday 21st February 2020

I’m fighting depression; not so much about the cataracts worries, deafness, Peripheral Neuropathy, or Dizzy Dennis visits this time. Can’t load photos, Liberty-Global Virgin Media, and it’s so slow! Mainly due to computer problems.

02:30hrs: I woke and rose this morning, with a terrible foreboding of what is to follow today. Nothing specific, but my EQ warned me that things would not go well. That was all I needed as if I wasn’t low enough to start with!

In between a few wee-wees, I made up some bottles of spring water with lime & lemon cordial. No interest in making a brew? What? And got on to the computer, with an unconfident hope that the photos would load this time…

No-go! I’ve got the meal from last night and some photos I took of the BBC Midland News on the card to use on a snippets blog. I didn’t take any other pictures in anticipation of my luck remaining at the usual level of atrocious.

I finished last nights blog and posted it off. Then went on the WP Reader, comments, and started doing a graphic.

04:10hrs, I heard some clattering from the flat above, not a lot, and not too bad. 

Made a start on this blog, and the blustering winds got up so bad. Also, some noises sound like humming machinery, so loud, from above. What’s going on?

I decided to get the ablutionisationing done, stand-up, no showering cause the noise might disturb anyone sleeping. Put the computer into sleep mode. Back in a while… I hope!

Upon my way to the wet room with the day clothes, I discovered the reason behind one of the many noises this Monday morning. As I passed by the airing cupboard and tank room, without my hearing aids in, I heard a noise of water running into the tank occasionally; this is accompanied by a comical gurgling sound? I took the camera in with me out of habit, so I took some photos after the session. Hope they can be uploaded with time… He says without much confidence…

I started with nose and teeth cleaning. Then a need for the Porcelain Throne arose (it does that often, I’ve noticed that).

What a  near-perfect evacuation that ever was! A smooth flow that needed little effort from me. Not phooey! Not runny, not messy. There was a tiny few bits of blood, but the dark red indicated they were from Harold’s Haemorrhoids, so nowt to worry about there! I moved on to readying the shaving tackle things.

I made a tiny cut trying to shave the neck-hole. (“Why when all my hair went years ago; does hair still grow around the neck, and behind the ear-holes? Just a thought”). No Accifauxpas, toe-stubbings, or walking into anything!!! Fair enough, three or four razor drops, but they all fell in the sink, so even that was lucky!

All went well. No need for any attention to Little Inchies fungal lesion – Hurray! Then got dressed… The PP’s first, then the dangerous job… Arthur Itis and Cartilage Kathy, both being very stiff this morning, I ended up having to use Sock-Glide-Glenda! The blister-making and blood-lusting Green Goddess! And she kept up her record of injuring me but not so bad as usual. She’s getting older now? Hahaha!

Just had to take a photo, not being sure if I’d get it on but did later, of the masterstroke of using the precocious Sock-Glide-Glenda. During this procedure, I needed three wee-wees! Sod-it, off again! I hope things calm down soon!

I then took a photograph of the car park at the dead-end of Chestnut Way.

The red-van-man was back in his usual line and chevrons ignoring parking spot. The rain and wind were still so heavy I took this picture through the balcony’s glass.

 

♫ Oh, Suzana ♫ chimed out – Carer Richard arrived, in a rush, no time for a chinwag. He soon got the medications and alarm battery check done for me. I think Rich was having problems. Richard was not his usual self at all this morning. Hope he’ll be alright. He asked for a bottle of water, I got him one from the stockpile in the kitchen, but he didn’t like the M&S brand, said it was ‘crap’, I’ll have a Highland one, so I gave him a Highland one. Ha! Said he might be coming on Tuesday, I think, he said. He kindly took the little blue waste bag with him, to the chute, for me.

Sphygmomanometerisationing, at last, showed a lower SIA reading on the Blood pressure. Nice! As was the DIA and Pulse results. Then I got the body temperature taken. That was a smidge higher for once, close to the red-line minimum of 35°c. But not quite there yet, but it’s good to have near enough not to ring anyone as I have been instructed to.

An hour or so struggling with the slow computer, in getting some photos on at last to use. The intercom lit up and buzzed; it was the Iceland delivery arriving. The chap looked soaking-sodden wet, poor thing when he got to the door. He put the bags through to the doorway into the hall for me, only four today, missing items, I bet. Or, mayhaps I curtailed the demands this time? (Only 1 item had to be substituted, and two not available) I did well in the fridge department. I got the diced beef chunks. BBQ Rustlers, BBQ flavoured chips, and frozen beefburgers. I thank you!

A nice filled-fridge again, that’ll do me nicely until the following Monday, methinks. So glad you get the Wall’s microwaveable sausages too!

I’d ordered the wrong potatoes, I noticed. All those cakes, I honestly can’t remember ordering… no, honestly! Ahem! I wanted the Baking ones to try some cheesy potato-making again… Tsk!

I got a packet of the beef chunks in the slow-cooker. They should be ready for tonight’s nosh. I added some BBQ beef gravy seasoning to the slow-cooker pan and a drop of the liquid smoke – a spur of the moment decision… Mmm…

I dropped a packet of beef chunks off for Jenny and Frank; they can do what they like with it. Eat it or give it to a worthy cause. Bless them. Back up to the twelfth floor, and as I was entering the outer flat lobby…

Hehehe! I didn’t half-clout my shoulder on the door frame! I felt such a fool! But there was nobody around to hear the slightly unavuncular language that I muttered. I’d done an excellent job on the shoulder; I got inside and took an extra Codeine and back on the computer blogging.

While I’d been out, the photo thingy had opened on its own, and I got the photo of last nights meal before the program all froze up again. Humph!.

Garden peas, a whole packet, cause they were short-dated from Sainsbury’s. Fish sticks, tomatoes (Lovely they were), buttered sourdough sliced bread (Gorgeous!), a mini lemon cheesecake, and a cheesy twist. I recall eating this with relish. Flavour Rating from memory; 8/10

Then I started prepping the Local News Snipping blog.

Dizzy Dennis cometh on an unwanted visit. I gave up on the computer, with Cataracts Katie and Dennis it was impossible.

Made some nosh. A decent effort methought, but the flavour did not match the viewing. Taste rating: 7/10. The late dated J Sainsbury’s podded peas let it all down, and I do love them usually, but not these out of date ones.

Cheeky Charlie Carer came. Told me off, gave me the medications. She chose a Gin mix and Easter egg for treats, and left without taking the waste bags… but I noticed, and shot out of the door to catch her, asking her to take them…

Serves me right. I clouted my shoulder on the door frame getting back inside. Tsk!

Sleep was hard to get into, and it took me a few hours for some reason. However, once off into the land of nod, I only shot-awake three times overnight. I wonder if the Hemp is working?

Inchcock Today: Monday 14th February 2022: Confusionableitis!

Inchcock Today

Monday 14th February 2022

Jolly Good Morning!

I stirred back into pretend-life around 02:00hrs with a jump that left me in the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered, grotty, tatty recliner, as the Thought-Storms started. I’d had a few earlier bursting awake episodes, but I got back to sleep pretty quickly. This time, Thought-Storms made sure I gave up on any idea of going back to sleep… Humph!

After fretting about the eye-sight problems, then working out what day it was, an unexpected surge of interest in cleaning up overcame me. It didn’t last long, of course! I made up three bags of waste, refilled the washing fluid bottle, cleaned the kitchenette sink and considered the possibility of my mopping the floor! But I was saved from housework impulse by the sudden need to use the Porcelain Throne. 

Had I been asleep in the recliner, I would never have made it in time! Boris Bowels was in complete charge of the evacuation and timing. So, it might have been a good thing I did get up so soon? All over in seconds until the second wave of sloppy stuff followed on… Stinking, messy and a hell of a job cleaning up the wet room furniture and me, again! I cleaned the floor in the wet room a little… Oh, I am a good boy sometimes. Haha!,

I washed and made for the medical drawer and the Galpharm capsules, taking two of them! Well, things were very watery and gooey, so I thought it would be safe to take two. I just hope it isn’t going to be house-bricks on the next visit to the Throne… Please!

I got the kettle on for a brew, and looked out of the window, taking this sadly very poor, in fact terrible, effort at photographicalisationing.

Then, as I closed the window, I trapped my finger, no bother at all. I possibly may have uttered or mumbled something like, “Oh, flipping ‘eck!” or similar.

The body temperature was taken on the digital machine. All the 3’s showed up. I got a bit of a shock when I checked online with the NHS site… This is the result of my checking to see what 33.3°c indicated… I am not confident enough to call anyone. It may well be that the machine is not giving correct results? I do not feel poorly and have been below 35°c for the last seven days or more now? Ah, well, on to the sphygmomanometerisationing…

Another not so good one. Yet it’s only s little higher than it has been and far lower than many results this month? I don’t usually fret over these things, but I hope the haematology nurse comes to do the Warfarin blood test tomorrow, and I can have a word with her about things.

On to the computer, and the photo reader was playing up again. Then… Well, fancy that, it hasn’t let me down since yesterday, and Frid, Thursday, Wednesday… Grrr!

Turned everything and booted up again, still no signal. Humphers! Ten minutes or so and came back on at a crawling speed. But, I pressed on.

I spent a couple of hours finishing off yesterdays blog and posting, and Carer Richard arrived. Which caught me by surprise, as I thought he was on holiday this week? Although I was glad to see him, he was not too pleased to be here! I asked if he had been called in and got an incoherent muffled answer in reply, which told me not to push the issue. I’ve no idea what had gone on. But the lad was in a dour mood for him. I soon cheered him up with some treats and a joke or two. He slowly, nearly got to being back to his usual self. Hehehe! He took the three waste bags out with him, bless him.

I made a brew and back onto the computer… but…

You stand-need to get more involved with Three and Vodaphone, as you are doing when you can’t even supply even a half-decent internet service, Mr Fries? I suppose it’s all number-juggling, money on paper? You’re good at that, mist and mirrors with the profit, but crap in running an internet provider service. Just thought I’d let you know. I am one of the suckers using Virgin Media now that Liberty-Global has bought the company.

Got the service back on eventually. Went on WordPress Reader, then the Comment replying. The photo thingy started to work, so I got the pictures on post-haste.

Here’re the earlier shots taken from the kitchenette window. To all intents and purposes, the skyline looked as if it was a sunset, with the white stripe across it. Different if nothing else.

Things took a sudden turn for the worse around 10:00hrs. I was making another brew of Glengettie, dropped the teabag, lent on the stick and got down to retrieve it… Oh, dearie me! I sharp pain in the groin, just like the one in 1988, when I got a hernia! Ever since, it has been twanging at me whatever I’ve been doing, hobbling, sitting down,  looking out of the window… but especially when I bend or stretch for something.

I took an extra Codeine straight away. And I am prepared to take another if things don’t calm down in the nether regions. Grogglefrogs!

I decided to get the nosh done early, as I had a feeling things were going to get worse, as Dizzy Dennis and Shaking Shaun had joined in with Hernia Henry, giving me bother.

No cooking involved to be on the safe side… well, no, that’s not strictly true. I did some baked stone rolls in the oven for ten minutes. Then got them buttered, and sliced the last of the large Natoora black tomatoes, to have in the cobs. Chicken thighs and a banana to round off the meal. With not feeling up to much, I couldn’t eat anywhere near all of it, but I did gobble all the black tomatoes.

Got the pots washed, and I drifted off into a fitful, tossing and turning, waking every five minutes for an hour or so. When I woke and decided to get myself ready for the ablutionalisationing to be done, I thought I’d dreamt of cleaner Esther, she was raising her voice at me… again, but I couldn’t recall why.

Ablutioning Farces

  • I went to get the fresh jammies to put on after the session, but could I find them? No! So I got the ones I’d put in the laundry basket and sprayed them with freshener.
  • Went into the wet room and realised I’d put the fresh jammies in there ready. I feel such a fool!
  • Cleaning the teeth and another filling that the dentist but it fell out! They ought to be butchers, not Dentists!
  • Shaving, two almost symmetrical cuts, both tiny, one under each earhole. Work of art that was!
  • Showering; as I was bending down to wash the ankle ulcer, Dizzy Dennis had me over – even for me, and I was there, this was amazing… I clouted my head in the exact same spot against the same power box as I did two days ago! It didn’t bleed much, stopped on its own.
  • Drying off, I partly cleared the contents of the floor cabinet in one swoop. Now I was pee’d-off with myself!

On the plus side, there was no toe-stubbing, and the medicationings went much more straightforward than expected.

The legs looked to be in fine fettle; even Arthur Itis was in a good mood with me; bless his cotton socks! Talking of socks, I put some on… NOT using SGG (Sock-Glide-Glenda) Cost me a lot of pain, but surely less than using the dreaded metal monstrosity, Glenda!

The feet looked even better than the legs did. Well, apart from the feeling of worms under the skin on the old Ankle Ulcer area. Within a few hours of this itching starting, the pain usually follows. Hey-Ho!

Off into the kitchen to get the kettle on…

I was pulled up in tracks – The window was ajar? The server trolley was well out of its usual position, over near the fridge? And the bowl I’d left clothes soaking in was empty, no sign of the cloths anywhere… Had I lost it altogether here?

I stood musing for a second and let my grip on the walking stick relax while trying to engage with my brain and memory. I got the picker-upperer to get the stick back (Hernia Henry was still giving me jip). The head natural went down, and I noticed something even more puzzling! The oven door had been cleaned! What? Who? How? There is no way I could have handled that job the may the stomach is?

My thoughts began to blend into a possible reason for the oven door. Maybe I had not dreamt of Esther? Perhaps she actually came to the flat… that would explain the moved items and cleaned oven? My mind was half and half on the matter!

A-side brain: Thought, I know I’m getting senile, but indeed I’d have known if Esther had called, she scares the life out of me with her commands and demands… I must have been aware…
B-side brain: It’s obvious she has been…
A-side brain: But she left no note or message…
B-side brain: She wasn’t to know you’d have a funny turn, was she?
A-side brain: Who said I had a funny turn?
B-side brain: Well, let’s face it, you nodded of at a time you’ve never nodded off, dint yer?
A-side brain: Well, yea… suppose so.
B-side brain: You can’t rest now, can you? You’ve got to know…
A-side brain: I could give her a call… I’d look and sound like a pratt, though!
B-side brain: So what’s changed?
A-side brain: Bugger it, you’re right, I’ll ring her now…

Embarrassing as it was, I did call her and asked if she’d been to the flat. “Yes, you were not well, and I could not wake you up!” So I let you sleep, but you were shaking your right leg and shoulder all the time?

I didn’t bother explaining to her again about Peripheral Neuropathy, Pete; I just said it doesn’t hurt. (Of course, when it gets more active, it has been known to have me off of the recliner with a thud. But that’s another tale).

It was a kind of pleasant feeling to know that I wasn’t going proper crazy, anyway.

The door chime rang out. I feared it might be Esther, cause she was in another flat when I rang her! But it was Josie returning her Sunday lunch tray and dish. It cheered me up when she said how much she’d enjoyed it this week! Smug-Moded!

That reminds me, the lady who I took the Strawberries to, her name, which escaped me yesterday, is Frances! I think I may have a photo of the gal; I’ll have a look. That’s Francis on the left, with Penny in Woodthorpe Court lobby when it was being done up a few years ago.

I took a photographicalisation of Sherwood from the kitchenette window. The rain was falling at the time.

Then I made a bottle of orange juice.

The rain suddenly stopped, and darkness fell rapidly. I bet there will be some beautiful sunset views to take later in, give in about an hour and a half, and I’ll be back at the window David Baileying.

Oh, I’ve done Facebooking for yesterday yet. Tsk! Treated me to a mini-lemon meringue pie and got back to the blogging work…

I was feeling a little dodgy, weak, confused again. It could just be the bang on the head, I suppose.

Hahaha! I’m used to them, though. But there may be a limit…

Bad news on the weather front warning.

The Meteorological Office has issued a ‘Danger To Life’ warning for Wednesday & Thursday this week. With a possibility of snow gales in the North. They tell us that the last storm took three lives, and this one will be worse.

Six of the best kitchen window shots of the Sunset tonight

Bootiful”

The door-chime didn’t chime to wake me tonight. It was young Carer Kiya who came into the room, who came in to give me shock again as she woke me up. Such a pretty young thing stirring me back into imitation life was pleasant enough. It could be embarrassing if I am using the wee-wee bucket or making mad rampaging love to a female when she comes in unannounced. But I had to ask her to use the chime in future, then walk straight in.” Although the chances of the second scenario are nil!” With a broad smile on my face so as it would not sound as if I was ticking her off. She missed the funny side of it. But said she would use the chime in future. Bless her!

She sorted the medications out and watched me as I took them. I took one of the Hemp capsules separately. It went down okay this time.

Gave her her choice of nibbles, a Cadbury’s mini Easter egg, and a can of Fanta orange. Kiya pointed out that she is only seventeen, so no alcoholic drink was chosen. I thanked her, and she took the waste bags to the chute for me on her way out.

No messing then, I got down into the recliner in search of intended Sweet Morpheus, this time. But it took a couple of hours or so before I could nod off properly. Thought Storms that at times felt like dreams, but they couldn’t have been, I didn’t nod of for hours. All a part from the feeling rough and sleeping for a while this afternoon?

In desperation, I even put the TV on, thinking that the first set of adverts would send me off to meet Sweet Morpheus. Ha! They didn’t. However, it just boosted the rate of the Thought Storms. Humph!

Ode To The Day

This was a very different, confusing sort of Monday,
At times, I cried, laughed, self-hated, tried to pray,
One moment things were going along appealingly…
But ended up badly, going so appallingly!
All-day long, everything I did, was absentmindedly…

Momentarily, seemingly, things went merrily…
Often, sourly, frustratingly, alarmingly and acridly,
The tumble in the shower… was almost expectedly?
Thought-Storms raged, some viciously, others banally?
Fears and worries increased, most of them baselessly!

Vascular Dementia Doreen, ever more harrowingly slyly…
She allowed bits of memory and information today…
To be accessed, but all the part recollection ambiguously,
I didn’t need telling; I was going off my trolley…
What bits of logicality I had turned into banality!

Sadly, the above appraisal is close to reality…
Life is apathetic, virtually accidental, and agonistically…
Missing opportunities for joy, affectionately…
My mind wanders, as do bodily things, medically…
I await many appointments, clinicopathologically,
Mayhaps one day, I can report one going blithefully?

The Nottingham Lads Diary – with Odeing

Inchcock Today: Sat-Sun 12/13 February 2022

Did you see that? I even got the year wrong! Dementia Doreen at work?

I woke up this morning (Sunday) not feeling giddy…
Because I’d had a better sleep? Definitely!
I’d woke up over the night, just six times, you see,
Many of my ailments were not bothering me!
Hard to believe it’s my unlucky Sunday!

But, things felt wrong, different, most notably…
The dreaded Hum, so much louder than ever, unfamiliar…
My nerve-ends continued with their uncontrollability,
But with other pains not here, that’s almost a triviality,
Although the eyes were terrible, cataractically!

If I get a Carer call, with they show uncongeniality?
I shall try today to be calm and avoid perversity…
Contain my nit-picking, self-loathing, and animosity…
I’m too nervous about claiming I can have unflappability,
Dementia Doreen gives the brain ungovernability,
She changes my mood so quickly… The audacity!

Saturday

Saturday was a daymare! The eyes delayed all I tried to do. Not that I tried to do much, other than blogging, for over eleven hours in total. I was up from 02:40hrs in the morning until 21:00hrs at night! Computerisationing the majority of the time. Cataracts Kathleen, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, occasionally bothered further by Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and Dizzy Dennis.

I created a Local News Snippets blog (now finally finished off and posted this morning, Sunday). You would not believe the mistakes, errors and messes I got myself into! Nothing else much was done at all. I did find some photographs on the SD card that prompted memories of Saturday if I can recall. Here they are with notes I’m part guessing at about them. Not many. And they may be our order chronologically, on Saturdays, sorry.

These sunset shots were, I believe, from Friday night. The first two in sequence, I have caught some Crows that had just broken up from a murder in the treetops to the right of the picture.

They were fully grown adults, judging by their sizes of them. In the second picture, I caught two of them. They were flying away from the flats at the time. I remember being surprised that I could recognise them.

The following two nights, the sunsets were hardly noticeable. But these ones, I thought, were so beautiful, even with muted colours (Is that the right word? I mean, not as vivid as it is sometimes).

I took just the higher part of the sky in the last photo, and I zoomed in an iota. The seemingly pink cloud amidst the blue-grey ones was so pretty to me. Mother Nature at her finest! ♥

I first utilised the A&D Medical Supplies, made in China Blood Pressure Monitor. Cor Blimey! Yet another near-perfect result. I believe I assumed a Smug-Mode!

Pulse at 73 looked good. The Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd©, a contactless thermometer, was used to take the body temperature. 34.2°c. A bit low?

The rest of the day was a bit of horror. Really frustrating and depressing for this non-compos-mentis, mentally & physically deranged, ailing old Inchcock. I fear the time is rapidly approaching when I’ll no longer be capable of blogging. Although Vascular Dementia Doreen sees to be affecting me more nowadays. If cataracts, glaucoma and saccades are ever repaired, that could be a life-saver…

Many hours later, I got the nosh prepared. Which also seemed to take an inordinately long time to do. I think it was through my depression and frustration, but I couldn’t eat much of the meal, despite it being tasty enough. A decent 7.5/10 for flavour content.

Washed the pots, had a wash and put the TV on to watch my favourite ‘Heartbeat’ two back-to-back episodes. Naturally, I fell asleep at the first set of advertisements that came on. Humph!

The ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ tune of the door chime rang out and woke me up. Carer Valerie arrived.

It was only about ten minutes into the second episode of ‘Heartbeat’, so I thought I’d watch that one. I was wrong! Nodded-off again. Woke to want a wee-wee, and ‘Hetty Wainthrop’ was starting on the box – Oh, good! I thought, had my painful slow trickling wee-wee, washed my hands and settled to watch Hetty… Zzz! 

Amazingly, I slept through for about four hours, lovely! Then the waking up with a jolt started again! Can’t win them all!

SUNDAY

With six sudden awakenings since around midnight, on this seventh one, I stayed up. I had to get up for Porcelain Throne duties anyway. Off to the wet room…

Rushing to get to the Throne, I misjudged the gap again. I walloped my right shoulder against the doorframe. There were some bits of bleeding from Harold’s Haemorrhoids. Nothing too serious, though.

Expecting a messy evacuation again, I had a go at the crossword after getting seated. But didn’t have time to do many clues. The evacuation was a slow job, that needed a fair bit of pushing input from me. Not awfully painful, just uncomfortable. This I put down to Harold’s Haemorrhoids. This is a strange day!

It seemed I’d got out of the right side of the bed this morning? Despite the painful Whoopsiedangleplops and Accifauxpas, I was singing away to myself as I washed and oiled the earholes? In fact, I was rather upbeat in my thoughts, too! Well, well! This is a strange day!

Josie last week

Cleaned up and got changed into the day clothes. I remembered that I’d not put the laundry away from yesterday yet. So, I did.

I went to sort the prepping for Josies’ Sunday lunch. All foods to hand, and I got the chilli with some extra beans in the pan. Added the mushrooms, crispy bacon pieces, chestnuts, and diced in some tomatoes. Mild chill and BBQ seasoning, a splash of anchovies sauce, and tomatoes puree. All ready to tackle later on for the gal.

I took a wee-wee, washed the dandies, and got the Boot’s Sphygmomanometer, made by the ZDEAC (Zhongshan Daguan Electrical Appliance Company Ltd©) in Guangdong, China. The results had crept up a smidge from yesterday. But it is only just in the lower stages of hypertension and has been a lot higher on many occasions. Certainly not enough to destroy my strangely volatile good spirits. That has come from I know not where but is welcome.

The Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, had a better reading than yesterday too! A good bit higher.

The ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ tune burst forth, I thought at first, with no one coming in, it was the Iceland Delivery, and someone had let him in, but no! It was the new Carer, Kiya. She has a bouncy, outgoing nature; it seems like she’s done the job before to me. Quick-witted, sharp, communicative, and very pretty! Kiya got the job done, we had a laugh or two, she’s sleeping very well at the moment, she said. Treated her to the nibble-treats, and off she went with a cheery farewell. I didn’t realise until later that she had not taken the three bags of waste with her. Humph!

The intercom flashed and rang… and I heard in the other room. This is a strange day!

The deliver chappie arrived at the door; he looked a smidge down in the mouth.

So after he’s put the bags into the hallway for me, I treated him to a can of his choice (Cider), thanked him, and got them into the kitchenette for sorting out.

There were two substitutes and four missing items. At least the substitutes sent were alright for me for once. The big bag of potatoes looked fresh, I thought…

I utilised the picker-upperer. And this one is one of the better, stronger ones. But it only just managed to lift the weight of the extremely heavy cheese-topped cobs! As I knocked the cheesy cobs off the trolley, they made a thudding sound as they hit the floor! Blimey, they were weighty!

Got the fresh strawberries delivered as well. One each for Josie, Flora and Richard. Not sure if the ladies name is Flora, it might be Flo Francis? Anyway, she lives in flat 8. I’ll take it down for her later on. (What the heck is her name?)

The Walls microwave sausages are for me; I’ve three packets in x6. Four sausages and baked beans flavoured with chilli, BBQ and Worcester sauce is the plan for tonight. Of course, then there is the challenge of breaking the cheesy rolls to dunk in the juice. I could well injure myself judging by how hard they are. Thanks, Iceland! I might use the drill on them?

Took a break and replied to emails and comments. Lovely one from HRH Lisa and comments from Billum.

Then I got Josie’s meal ready. I gave her some extras for Easter. A little egg, a chocolate bar, and her favourite can of plonk. I also handed over half of my strawberries in a separate bag.

Then I took the waste bags out to the chute room. And, I’d like to add (Smug Mode Assumed!); totally without any Accifauxpas or Whoopsiedangleplops! No trapped fingers, no walking into anything, no visits from either Dizzy Dennis or Shaking Shaun!

I’ve just come to the following line in the blog reminder pad. I’m curious to know what the heck this is on the left here; it is supposed to indicate for me to remember? Looks like 3 40ging? It’s beyond me! Mind you, I’m not surprised. I can’t even see what I’m writing, let alone read or see the subtitles on the TV.

Then I found this picture I’d missed from the SD card. It is sad, innit?

Vascular Dementia Doreen is active again, I see! I think I took this one earlier today when I got out of the wet room. On the other hand, it could be from yesterday… any day, any month…

Spent more hours doing the blog, then took the strawberries down to… ah, I think her name might be Doris? Anyway, she seemed to like them, bless her.

My next plan… get the bangers and beans done for my nosh. I found out what I thought I’d bought, Cheese topped rolls, turned out to be Tiger rolls. That’s why they were so heavy. Humph!

The beans and sausages were a bit of a disappointment, I fear. The baked beans tasted so different to what I anticipated? The little pots I made pots of mandarins in orange juice and some black grapes for dessert were excellent! Overall, a Taste Rating of 6.5/10.

Did the washing up and sat to watch an old film on the goggle-box. Fell asleep at the first commercial break. Woken well over an hour later, by the new Carer gal, Kiya looming over me asking if it’s alright if she puts the light on. Hehehe! She’d not pressed the door chime. I wish she would have, I mean… I could have been in physical rapture with a young lady on the carpet… Well, okay, not that then! Hahaha!

Kiya was in a good mood tonight. We had a little natter and laughed after doing the medications given. She stayed close by while I took them to check that none had come out through a big gap that used to be filled by teeth.

Off she trotted with a treat in thanks, and I had a wee-wee, washed, got into the night attire and back to the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly-sickeningly beige coloured, tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly-recliner.

I spotted a blue tablet on the floor. Only Warfarin tablets are blue. So, it seems I had dropped or regurgitated a tablet after all? That was with two of us watching? Bit of a mystery here?

Zzz!

Inchcocks Future Fun Newspaper Headlines

.

Future Sports, Covidity, and Politics, unsung,
Including Boris, Cummings, even Cameron,
I threw myself into creating these, then the phone rung…
Told me the Bank is closing its branch… that’ll be fun!
A bill from the Council, Carers Fees, that stung!
Two weeks ago, Meridian arranged a direct debit…
About as reliable as Norman Tebbit!

Here they are; I hope you get a smile from;

Inchcocks Future Fun Newspaper Headlines

I fang You!

Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

Billum, treats Inchcock’s Ailments

A bit of fictional fun in Ode here

I hope it brings a smile and a laugh!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It All Began…

T’was months ago, when Billum said, “You need curing!”
“I do?” I replied Billum’s words had got me wondering,
We continued with our badinaging,
The result, revealing a fascinating thing!
Bill continued with a medical debriefing,
He’s a clever chap, quite a scientific boffin,
He’d worked out how to mend the ailments that got me coughing!

He could cure or ease many an ailment without any drugging!
His lad Alan had had a look in…
Did the mechanical engineering,
Medical engineering? That got me fearing!
H.R.H. Lisa, had the first aid kit ready… encouraging?
At this point, I had to ask… is this going to be hurting?
And can I and H.R.H. Lisa do some flirting?

The procedure would take a few days, but no haemorrhaging,
Chances are, Inchie, that you’ll not feel a thing!
Lisa will be there, and take your care under her wing,
But flirting? No, or you really will be hurting!
I thanked him, asked Billum if it involved my contortioning?
“Well, you might jerk about a bit; that’s nothing…”
“You’re used to Shaking Shaun, un Peripheral Pete bugging!”
“Once we set up the various electrics…” Lisa was earwigging…
“Worry not, Inchie… for Billum is not a fledgling!”

“This electroconvulsive therapy will soon have you jogging!”
Then we’ll make you a meal and give you some noggin!
“That’ll be marvellous Lisa, I’d just love some snogging…”
“No, I said noggin, not snogging; oh, dear, your hearing!”
“The syringing, I’ll do that for you! It’ll be astonishing!.

Billum and Alan helped me with the plans on travelling,
The transport I could afford needed ambushing…
I nicked the lorry and got to near Ohio, without any bathing…
Poor H.R.H. and Billum did a bit of nose-clenching!
But soon Billum took charge, first my showering!

Getting over my fears needed establishing,
My worrying, Billum started extinguishing,
He got out his plans to explain, and I stopped flinching…
“I’ll tell yer, in simple terms, what you can be understanding…
We all sat down, and I started listening…

And let’s face it, you’re loaded with them! Electroconvulsive therapy (E.C.T.) is a procedure done under general anaesthesia, in which small electric currents are passed through the brain, intentionally triggering a brief seizure. E.C.T. seems to cause changes in brain chemistry that can quickly reverse symptoms of certain mental health conditions.

Lisa at your side throughout. We know how you love her so, so we’ve asked her to give the odd squeeze of your hand, keep gong close to you so you can smell her perfume, and hear her words of comfort… But try not to get too excited! Remember, it’s all part of the procedure. We won’t be bothering with any anaesthesia because we will have H.R.H.

After having some of H.R.H.’s special Chilli Con Carne and a cream cake, we will be doing it in the basement laboratory.

Hahaha! Nowt to worry over Inchie, E.C.T. is good on older adults who can’t tolerate drug side effects. A muscle relaxant is usually used during the procedure to stop the patient’s muscles from moving during the seizure. Still, we’ll skip that cause with your Peripheral Neuropathy; there ain’t a cat in hells chance of you not twitching.

“Fair enuf!” At this, one of the cats jumped up on my knee and rubbed its chin against mine! Nice!

We’ll throw in a bit of Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (T.M.S.). We think we’ve improved the procedure by swapping bits here and there. Alan worked out that the hyperparameters programmed into the medical device were used to deliver magnetic therapy to the brain by reducing the max-pooling in the convolutional neural networking of the design of the machine. Naturally, this means that your Body Mass Index (B.M.I.) and hypertension will be of less concern than they usually would be, you see?

There’s no worry about quantum entanglements, blue-shiftings, or Lagrangian points. These have all been factored into our plans. As with fasciculations and diaphragmatic flutters, There will be a chance of you horripilationing, but that is of no consequence, as you know.

“Oh, good!” No idea what Billum was on about. He forgets how thick I am, I think. After a lovely nosh, down to the basement, I was led…

A shame, really, but I woke up then!

Part of the Inchies Make Them Laugh-In Ode Series

Inchcock’s Sad Ode to his Youth

Derwent Street on the right. The railway line going behind the houses, was where I existed as an ankle-snapper

This Ode was written, in memory of the bad times. The start of my life-long Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas and Failures. Also, the two good things that happened while living here; but, they were my last two good things, and I can’t remember them clearly.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Inchcock’s Sad Ode to his Youth

In Inchies youth, some kids could be vandalistic,
Most were foul-mouthed verbalistic…
With tempers, through ignorance, volcanic!
Nobody learnt how to use a chopstick,
Most uneducated, we had rickets and hair-nits,
Food options and choices were limited; we couldn’t cherrypick,
No vacuums, all had a dustpan and broomstick!

The teachers didn’t care; they were unspecific…
Volatile youths, spitting, swearing and unhygienic,
Educating in our school? Best learn survival… so tragic!
There always seemed to be some sort of epidemic…
Most whippersnappers got measles, worms or were tularaemic,
School life was about surviving bullies, all unsymmetric!

Threats were rife; each street had a gang, all misanthropic!
Most homes were two-up-two down, bare and mephitic,
But believe me, I’m not intending to be a critic…
Life was what we were born into, not to us, pyrrhic…
We made the best of what we didn’t have. Life was quixotic,
Poverty drove some of us to do things mildly despotic!

To survive each day, we had to be chameleonic…
Keep alert for gangs, any contact, you must be phlegmatic…
You’d still stand a chance of this proving pyrrhic …
You’d still get name called, and a wallop, many a skrik,
Fear turned many of us into being schizophrenic!

Inchcocks Memories

Chinwag With Alto-Ego Inchie!

Confounding Confusionableitis!

Time for a proper chinwag with Alto-Ego Inchie. Who I consider as much a mental ailment like all the other medical ones. I am determined to free myself of his persistent, nagging interference in my thoughts. His mission it seems to me is to make me feel guilty, inadequate, inconsequential, ineffective, and insignificant.

Which he has in fact already successfully achieved.

Although, possible beyond the understanding of anyone normal mortal, and maybe anyone who does not have a cruel, Alto-Ego, nagging away, analysing, mocking and criticising your every decision, and choice, one makes or decides on.

This natter took place last night as I lay in bed, with the notepad near to hand, and took place in several episodes! Sleep was certainly not an option for me…

Inchcock Opens The Chinwag Session:

Inchcock: I can sense your sneering and contempt Inchie, and I have to say you are a bane!
Inchie: Huh! Do yer fink I like being stuck in your brain!

Inchcock: Then go away, stop giving me mental pain!
Inchie: What the hell do think it’s like in here? In your dithering, feckless, vacillant thought-filled indecisive brain?

Inchcock: That’s it, go on, put me down, mock again…
Inchie: From human contact, you should refrain…

Inchcock: You said that when we last spoke, now again?
Inchie: Oh, a comeback from Inchcock, I’ve heard better insults from solid lepidomelane!

Inchcock: Erm… lepidomelane? Wot’s that then? Explain!
Inchie: When you read fings, facts you should retain!
Inchcock: Did I read about lepidomelane?
Inchie: Yer! In 1963, yer pea brain!
Inchcock: I’ve got Vascular Dementia, mental pain…
Inchie: Oh shurrup! Abarght time yer took yer Novocain?
Inchcock: You’ve changed the topic, confused me, yer know that makes me go brain-lame!
Inchie: Course I do, you pillock, I’ve had enough of this game…
Inchcock: What games that’s then, are you on cocaine?
Inchie: Yer coming owt with the insults tonight Inchcock! Enough! This topic’s getting too urbane…
Alright, I’ll piss off then!

Inchcock almost nodded off, when Inchie Returned!

Inchie: Hey-up, I’m calling back in defiance!
Inchcock: Why? Have no cognisance!
Inchie: Thought I might catch you on the loo, by chance…
Inchcock: You ‘horrible scumball! You no allegiance?
Inchie: Allegiance? Any idea wot that means?
Inchcock: I learnt that when in my teens!
Inchie: Huh! Gonna give me more gibberish?
Inchcock: Well, thanks for your pertinent attendance…
Inchie: Eh? Playing tricks? Do you mean good riddance?
Inchcock: Well, yes, I do, I’ve had enough of your cruel words!
Inchie: Wot, me? You’re the one spouting insulting words…
Inchcock: Am I? I was just making some lemon curds…
Inchie: What out off… Turds?

Inchcock ignored the Alta-Ego – With Difficulty Mind

He mellowed a little, and went deep in thought, until Inchie returned, and was ready to mislead the interloper…

Inchie: Wotsup, dogbreath? Pissed-off again, blockhead?
Inchcock: Oddly I thought that is what would be said…
Inchie: What’s yer game, that was said well mannered?
Inchcock: It’s up to us both, kill this mutual arguing, time to get together, and start apologising… not endangered!
Inchie: What? Am I being outmanoeuvred?
Inchcock: No mate! My wish is for you to get scunnered!
Inchie: You mean like, we get together and schnockered?
Inchcock: That’s it, we can have our relationship bettered!
Inchie: Summat wrong ‘ere… you and me, get stonkered?
Inchcock: Yea… let our animosity be withered!
Inchie: Why? you dare not… your lily-livered!

Inchcock: Hahaha! Such a poetic turn of phrase!
Inchie: Well, I’m not used to giving praise…
Inchcock: Oh, it’s easy, ns so many ways…
Inchie: Worra yer mean?
Inchcock: We could take time out, play the Steinways…
Inchie: Yer…
Inchcock: Go on holiday, as stowaways?
Inchie: Oh…
Inchcock: Have a drink, see where our hands stray…
Inchie: Hang on, are you after me body?
Inchcock: No, you haven’t got one, although you can have some control over mine, anyway ♥,
Inchie: Not ‘aving that… but then I couldn’t… could I?
Inchcock: not sure, but I’d risk it if you will. I’m free on Wednesday?
Inchie: Erm… I’m not used to this, who’s gonna pay?
Inchcock: You pay in enjoyment, we both can on the day?
Inchie: Hey, hey, hey… Could we just stop arguing, and have a laze?
Inchcock: Certainly, and we could have a few hoorays?
Inchie: I feel my emotions coming ablaze…
Inchcock: I could bring some bottles… Chardonnays?
Inchie: Surely it can’t be done? No ways!
Inchcock: You Pratt! You’re only in my mind! Best then if we return to our mental, non-verbal affrays!

 –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –

Inchcock was arrested and rushed to the Psychiatric Hospital by paramedics, after being caught making rigorous love to his non-existent Alto Ego Inchie, in the balcony of his flat this evening.

The Doctor told the Inchcock Today reporter: “We managed to stop his weeing with excitement, and finally convinced him was not having sex for the first time in his life. He is currently being treated for Psychotic Manic Depression.

Luckily the Doctor on duty had treated Mr Inchcock several times before over the years and had a straight jacket to hand.

Inchcock is expected to be released in a few years, providing he doesn’t kick the bucket earlier! (He’s getting on a bit)

Part of the Inchcock Make ‘Em Laugh Series

Inchcock: Confusions In Ode

I woke up; well, I got that bit right; here’s a tidbit…
No leaks from Little Inchy, nor bleeding too…
I actually thought waking up deserved a plaudit,
Checked the overly stomached body, legs two…
Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley twitching at my body audit,
The bruise on the knee had turned from red to blue,
Down the Protection Pants; crumbs from a biscuit!
Nocturnal nibbling guilt did ensue…
Then working out what day, month and what time is it?
The innards erupted, wind escaped from the rear. Ooh!
A massive dump I was about to inherit…
Probably due to last nights far-to-large bowl of chilli stew?
A visit to the Porcelain Throne was urgently due…
It was agony, messy, bloody, and massive, I can tell you!!

The Social Worker asked if I’d like to take up embroidery?
Is she serious, or is this tomfoolery?
Last month when she called to see me dress,
It was like a shockumentary!
She saw me struggling to dress and making a mess…
Getting my socks on buffoonery!
Putting the trousers on was full of stress,
I fell over; that did not impress!
Then saw my arm shaking as I shaved; it was bloody!
Viewed the sock-glide battle, which always causes me distress…
Now she thinks I can thread a needle?
Good God, I struggle to get Little Inchy out for a piddle!

I try to avoid getting the reputation as a badass,
Like I did when I was drinking from a beer glass,
I’ve a new reputation now, well two, one as a tight ass…
The other, rather unfairly as a wiseass!
I just get myself down on my palliasse,
Pass involuntary wind from my flatulent ass…
Sorry about sounding a bit crass…
And wonder what the hell I’ve done with my bus pass?

The last time I went to town it went all askew!
I got soaked waiting at the wrong bus stop, for a No22
Not been out for weeks, a hobble is long overdue,
Finding the bus pass might be an issue…
And remembering where the bus goes to…
What times it runs, get on the right one, first go the loo!
Walking: more painful now than doing jujitsu,
Get some food, veg, fruit… a melon, honeydew?
For the toilet, disinfectant and a Brobat blue,
The bank, my cards ready for a renew…
Oh, Inchcock, you silly old Moo!
Going out today you can’t do…
DWP will be calling to give me an interview…
That’ll be a confusing hullabaloo!

A few close shaves, but no disgruntled attitude,
Made beefburger, broke my tooth when I chewed,
Then dropped the mug when I brewed…
Onward I pressed and continued…
Time for the Porcelain Throne to be used…
I didn’t make it in time, now I’m really screwed!

Talk about being embarrassed – more disgruntlement,
Cleaned, washed, refreshed, out to the apartment…
A letter here, there’s an increase in rent!
Time to get lively, a shake-it-out session to augment…
Or just go deeper, into unhingement?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Produced in Support of Protection Pants Makers

Ode to Maintaining One’s Sanity – Part Four or summat

In an odd mood this morning, folks, sorry, The early morning perkiness indicates me; Has done a bunk, I fear! Grugglebogness! Worries over the increase in carer fees, but my stepdaughter Jill (not really, but she ought to adopt me!), is helping me out again and investigating why I have been told I will be paying it from last Monday, but no one has told me how much it will be? I fret so easily nowadays. Hehe!

There was a time long ago, I w fascinated by Dennis Wheatley,
His character, Gregory Sallust, I thought was top quality,
Cunning, dedicated, loyal, brave with great chivalry,
I’d get back from the local hostelry,
After drinking and revelry…
Fall up or down the stairs accidentally,
Badly affected, alcoholically.

Working and drinking made my entire constellation,
For years, there was no guilt, and no contrition,
Boozing gave me a social connection…
I enjoyed it, beer and me had a cohabitation,
My taxes paid, drinking gave me no consternation!

Then one day, suddenly I decided out of the blue,
To stop my drinking ale, swearing never again to do!
The hardest thing I’d ever done, I can tell you!
I’ll not go into my suffering hullabaloo,
Never since have I drank plonk or used a corkscrew!

Now, so many years later, life is barren…
Of so-called friends, all abandoned me again,
Now I am an aged, sickly doyen…
Miserable, grumpy, but clean-shaven,
Clean-shaven? Why was that written?
I always wanted to be a Tibicen,
A flutist, but that’s probably not relevant,
I’m wandering here a bit, having a vent,

Not a vent… Erm… having a mental orbit!
Feeling a bit of a twit,
Misspellings lost words, things miswriting…
I’m losing it again, Gawdamit!

My confidence is getting titchier,
My mood is definitely schmaltzier,
My trips to the Throne frequenter
My Gawd, that’s four times this morning…
What is happening?
Each visit gets messier!
Stomach aching and is paunchier!
The passing of wind is getting noisier,
Evacuated product is meatier!
Every frequent wee-wee grows oozier!
It’s a good job that I’m no longer boozier!

It’s the memory that confuses me most,
I try, and I’ve not yet given up the ghost,
The brain nowadays is a far outpost…
Gives me access once or twice daily, at most!
But still, I remain chatty and verbose…
Seeking peace and inner glasnost,
And the ability to do my blogpost!

The Carers come twice a day; most are congenial,
Show patience, as I get confused, me being demential,
Some take my rubbish to the bin, others are contractual,
The good ones outweigh the not so good; it’s factual!
I usually get the shakes and a wobble…
Some chinwag, they go to that trouble,
This leaves me in a contentment bubble!

I like to think that I am still trainable,
But memory loss is always unavoidable,
Although, day to day it can be changeable,
That’s when I can get feeling unamiable…
And, I believe there is only me blameable,
Guilt can make contentment unavailable,
Thinking at times that I should be throttleable,
Then a kind act is given, and I get the unattainable,
And life is temporarily less circumscriptible,
Then no longer think I’m gullible or sulliable!

Some mornings I seem to transmogrify…
One leg fluid-filled, ‘tother thin, don’t know why?
Then there is Saccade Sandra, in my right eye,
My spectacles, the optician has to rectify,
He’s a snotty bloke, but at least I know why…
Last time I visited their pig-sty,
I warned the Lady of Peripheral Neuropathy, why?
Cause I’d had it bad, arm and leg shaking, me oh my!
The arm shot out, making her test lenses fly…
Her stare said she wanted me to painfully die!
The ladies hatred, I could not nullify!
So, going there again could make me cry!

This mornings carer, not ringing the bell, an oversight?
No, she never does; I didn’t hear her, her voice is light,
Crept up behind me, didn’t half give me a flipping fright!
Did she say good morning? Well, she well might…
But I didn’t hear her in the dark light.

“Sit down!” she suddenly boomed out,
Sticking her finger out towards the chair,
I took the medications, with trepidation about…
But I didn’t sit in the chair, to be fair…
I thought she wanted to give me a clout!
I chatted about it being so dark,
She was not ready for chin-waggings remarks,
Yet departed, happy as a lark?

Depression began to activate…
I found it hard to concentrate,
The Porcelain Throne was again much used,
Messy, tacky, splashes and floused…
The Throne today is much overused!
At last, it was done and cleaned. I did vacate…
Leaving the hot tap running, I did not appreciate!
No chance of a shave and shower now, mate!
I was disoriented, irritable, not focused,
In a massive fed-upperdness, I was circumfused,
I need to get myself refocused
Sod-it! Back to the Porcelain Throne, I had to navigate!

This below is the wet room, which contains the much overused Porcelain Throne. Today, I discovered that it includes 242 wall tiles, 54 cracks in the floor, and 78 on the ceiling. Which also has 14 lumps and a damp patch. The cross wording did not go well; two clues were solved in a total time on the book of three hours.

The most used room of the day!

Part of the Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series