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

A simple bus ride to fetch my Spectacles

Not on your life, talk about things going wrong!

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

Really are true, and challenge my sanity  and mind,

Please persist reading, and you will find,

Why I have logicality, hopelessness and despondencies entwined!

Off to Sherwood to collect my glasses,

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

I’ll leave them a treat, containing molasses,

Might get a chinwag with whoever passes?

 ———————————————

Caught the lift down with no problem at all,

Left the bag, hope they have a ball,

Returned to lift lobby hall,

Catching the elevator, not easy at all,

I was so frustrated and appalled,

25 minutes later, the lift responded to my call!

 ———————————————

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

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

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

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

 ———————————————

On Winchester Street, The walker ran away from me,

I chased it, and is facticity,

I wedged it against a box for electricity,

To take this phot, but not with enough adequacy,

I stopped it again but with inefficacity,

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

———————————————

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

I must get the bus up the hill going back,

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

Off to the optician’s, the one drawback,

I was wearing a sort of anorak,

I was so hot, but didn’t hold back,

Got in the shop, and took the receptionist flak,

I was late, it seems was her crack!

———————————————

I had a long wait to be seen,

Not that I was all that keen,

£300 to pay, never again to be seen,

Crosswording while I waited,

The receptionist called me to be seen,

The lady dealt with me, glasses were fitted,

I got quite jolly-fully contented and witted,

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

I’d forgotten my pin number again,

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

From crying out loud, I did refrain,

She got the money through, this seemed diaphane,

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

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

Thanked her, pretending to understand, I did mislain,

Still, she didn’t moan or complain!

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

———————————————

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

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

I’d run out of the Kryptonite! 

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

Down to the traffic light corner,

And the bus passed by, I was too late!

I checked the next ones time and date, 

40 minutes, too long to stand and wait,

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

The hill looked a fearsome sight, 

The prospect of climbing it, made me feel uptight,

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

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

I was sure the gradient was gaining height?

The hobble home seemed infinite

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

For breakfast, I should have had some Marmite,

The time went by slowly, and things went quite,

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

To see a harrowing sight,

The 40 bus arriving, some tenants did alight,

 My energy was drained completely now, flat!

Didn’t have the energy for eating my cervelat,

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

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


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

Inchcock Reveals His Current Fears! – In Rhyme (Of sorts)

Believe it or not, Inchcock created this depiction of his Sock-Glide from memories of a nightmare, that the poor old fart suffered two nights ago. It’s so sad!

Inchcock Reveals His Current Fears!

Reading further may cause harm to your sanity!

Yes, he was young once… he still is, mentally!

Born, and got myself double-pneumonia,
Thrown in the canal, I nearly drowned in 1954,
I got rescued, only scared, wet and sore,
The medics said the boss is going to warn yer,
The Doctor said “You’ll never get brawnier”,
Next, I got shot, then the Duodenal Ulcer,
Top of the charts was ♫24hrs from Tulsa♫,
Then the hernia, and bladder cancer.
Had to have the ticker transplanted, years ago,
It doesn’t bother me now, though, 
Then I went and got shot again,
I knew my bad luck had to end, but when?
I stopped working in the Security industry, then!
I came off my motor-bike in the fog,
Out of hospital, had some police dialogue,
They fined me £20, speeding, I was agog!
Got a job driving a delivery van,
And became quite a Casanovan,
Got made redundant three times, lucky man!
Retired, well it was enforced of course,
But I had little remorse,
Got a part-time job, selling pickles and sauce,
When I reached 70, we had a discourse,
Then the Peripheral Neuropathy was diagnosed,
Got the tablets mixed-up, and overdosed,
They said stay indoor, well, I wasn’t opposed!

Then along came the stroke, of the ischaemic type,
Saccades, as well, of dear, this medical hype,
But I wasn’t one to moan and gripe,
I recovered, but physically, I’m a load of tripe,
They discovered I had diabetes,
Life became full of abstrusities,
My ailments seem to grow complexities.

Next, I’m using a walking stick,
Unbalanced, falling-over, it made me sick,
No choices then, at home I have to stick,
I fell, and gave my neck a crick,
I’m no longer the witty, clever-dick,
But I somehow cope, and that was fantastic.

Then along came to visit us,
The Corona Virus,
Isolation, no going out walking or on a bus,
Every day new instructions, what a fuss,
But at least I got rid of furuncle’s puss!
Until disabilities meant I couldn’t bend down,
And the worst, that really gets me down…
It’s bad enough doing your own syringes,
Is the bloody Sock-Glide, frame,
I gave it a go, I was really game,
But it keeps taking lumps out of my fingers,
And I don’t like these whinges,
Using the Sock-Glide means many cringes,
It’s not just the pain – mentally you’ll find it unhinges!

This claptrap was rit rote, written by Inchcock, with dedication and stupidity in support of the Peterborough & District Failed Philharmonic Orchestra Players, collection fund for the Bankers & Investors Roadkill Hospice Advocacy Society.

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

I thought I’d look back, on my victories

Bear with me; these are hard to find…

At birth, I lived through Mother’s fag ash dropping on me,

I had Double-Pneumonia at the age of three,

Sister Jane was almost adopted, to Italy, she did flee,

Brother Pete, escaped, good for him, went in the army,

Mother running away, the police wanted her, you see,

Which left just poor old Dad and me,

Doing the cleaning, shopping, and two paper-rounds, that was Inchy!

I survived being thrown in the Nottingham Canal,

Clinging to a barge rope, without much hope,

I was rescued by Brain, a neighbour, and a real pal,

Hauled out, was taken home, full of hope,

Got a belting off of Dad, and scrubbed with carbolic soap!

GC Young

Jane away in Italy still,

Life was for us both, a bitter pill,

We’d both had our sad times, but still,

I started work, bought a bike that would go uphill!

Duodenal ulcer, Anne Gyna I acquired easily enough,

Got shot at work, and a new heart fitted,

Fron flat to flat, I flitted,

Got made redundant, Cancer zapped, not fritted,

Job searching failed, hopes, attritted,

My desires, faith, and plans buffetted!

GC stick

Then along came Peripheral Neuropathy ailment,

 Jane, back from Australia, accompanied me,

To and from the hospital, she was heaven sent!

Then the stroke, I was a broken bloke,

Months in care, after the stroke,

Slowly, recovery began to cloak,

Bits of the old Inchcock, showed, bespoke,

And I knew something more would wroke!

Then the diabetes was found,

And things got worserer, all around,

When Saccades-Sandra, was also found!

But, my hopes and aspirations remain,

Although I am no longer sane,

I’m ready for the challenges again…

I just wish there was a little less pain!

I fang you!

 

Inchcockum: Monday 20th July 2020 – Failure-filled, Frustrating and Phenomenally Fear-Fermenting day!

Canadian TFZer Model

Monday 20th July 2020

Esperanto: Lundon la 21an de Julio 2020

03:50hrs:  Woke up, wee-wee was required. I found the three nail-clippers I opened last night, in various places on my body? The little finger on my left hand had been bleeding but had now congealed near the nail. Erm?

By the time I’d got out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, rickety recliner and got my balance, the Porcelain Throne was also needed. With painful, partially crippling uncut toenails stinging, I hobbled to the wet room, with all alacrity.

Cor-Blimus!, that a quickie it was! Messy, pongy, and painful too! Humph! Washed and cleaned up, and to the computer, to look up the day’s doings on the calendar, because the vagueness of mind and inability to concentrate had caused a blank-spell. I’ve got the Morrison’s order 08:30>09:30hrs, the Warfarin blood test-nurse (anytime between 09:00>16:00hrs). The recyclable bags to take down that might need two trips. I must get help calling the Doctors and foot clinic, hoping to get an appointment.

Off to get the Health Checks and medications taken. By the time I’d limped to the hallway, my indistinctive, vagueness, ambivalent, fuzziness of mind, decided I’d get the stand-up ablutions done first? So I did!

And a right mess I made of them! The legs and feet were looking okay, though. If only the pain would go away (Hehehe!), I realised later that I had not cleaned my teeth! The shaving did not produce a single cut or nick! I knocked the waste bin over!

Stubbed my toe against the sink support! (Luckily, it was the right foot, and Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters was playing up, so the pain was minimal! No doubt when the nerve-ends come back online, they’ll let the brain know. That’ll be fun!). Then, I sprayed myself with air freshener, and not the deodorant! All in all, I made a right mess of it, but somehow, I just didn’t seem concerned at that time? (Fuzzy-Mind Fred?)

I got dressed and off to the kitchenette to make a brew, take the medications, and do the Health Checks. The view from the thick-framed, light, and view-blocking new windows was terrific.

As I was taking this photograph of the scene, my vagueness seemed to dissipate a tad. But this regaining a little control of the grey-cells brought with it all the worries, concerns, fears, and failures to mind! The Thought-Storms attacked.

As I turned away from the window, I knocked the electric can-opener off of the ledge. It fell, via the server tray, and wall, right onto my poor foot and big toe! However, there was a bit of genuine good-luck involved here! The flex only allowed it as far as to hit the toe once, it had reached the limit the flex allowed and was pulled away! Thus, the pain was far less than had the machine not been plugged in! Well, well, Double-Smug-Mode almost adopted! But I realised it would not be long until another Whoopsie or Accifauxpas would befall me. My EQ told me I was due for a harassing day! I think I might have a black-toenail developing now? Ah-well, it could have been far worse!

I got the Jenny-supplied little picker-upperer and retrieved the machine from where it hung near the floor. Then I had a search and found the blade section that had gone in a different direction as it flew off of the main body. Argh! The opener no longer works! Granglesbognessbugger! 

At last, I got around to taking the medications, and then did the Health Checks, starting with the BP, sphygmomanometerisationing. The SYS was still a bit high. The stick-thermometer was used, it showed as just ‘Low’.

Then, with the morning’s vagueness, instead of updating the Sunday blog, I started this one off, before I forgot the mayhem that had taken place last night.

Then, I moved on to updating the Sunday post. Got it finished and posted off the Email links, and did the Facebooking. The intercom rang out, it was the Morrison delivery arriving. I got the bags from the doorway into the kitchen. And what a lot of sorting-out I had to do, too!

I started with the fresh foods, and they all looked good and clean to me! The only minor problem with these was substituted milk. They’d sent a bottle twice as large as the one I wanted. So some throwing away to come, methinks. 

The cupboard stuff was sorted and stored away. The only bleach available was a thin 2litre one, but it” have to do. And the washing up liquids I’d ordered arrived, also an apple and orange, scented one? Mmm?

Getting all the fresh stuff in the fridge was a challenge, Hahaha!

Cupboarded the other stuff, and I had to put a few items in the junk room. Including four baked bean cans that I didn’t realise I’d ordered. I recall thinking of getting them at a special offer price, I didn’t reckon that I had.

But, that’s me all over. Confused easily, and doolally prone!

I was beginning to get myself worked up a bit. (Little did I know then, just how uptight, irritable and meg-frustrated I was going to get today!) And rather busy, as well! But the view outside helped calm me down a bit, temporarily.

They had sent the two plain flour bags, and I’d ordered an extra carton of red grapes as well, they were on offer price if I bought two, so I did. As a thank you for Jenny for her care and help. I called Jenny and told her I was on my way down with the flour. We had a little natter at the same time, I appreciate that. Getting down, was a problem with there only being one lift available for the residents, and the rule (Rightly so!) that only one goes in an elevator at a time. The not allowed cage kept coming to me at first, so I had to nip in and sent the lift to a lower floor, and hope that the resident’s lift had no one in it when it came. Cunning, I am! Haha! I got to Jenny’s and Franks flat, and I left the bag near the door. The lady had left £2 in payment for the flour in an envelope on her door for me. Bless her!

I got the black bags for the chute, and the big-bag of recyclables to go down to the caretaker’s area bin. I forgot to take the camera with me, though. It was going down in the elevator, that I realised that the rear-end furunculosis, wasn’t giving me any bother. That was good!

I went out to the recycle bin, but couldn’t see any caretaker’s to help me at the time, so I had to leave the bag near the skip.

Coming back in, and I saw Riechsfuhreress and Catwalk Model Warden Deana. I took the chance to have a word (More a pathetic moan and plea for help, really, Haha!) with her, about my problem with the toenails. She kindly said she would call the Sherwood podiatrist te when I might get in to see her, then she’ll call the private costly foot-lady who operates one day a week from Winwood Court, to see if she can do me. And would ring me back with what she finds out for me. Fair enough, I couldn’t ask for more! Well, I could, but that would be naughty! Har-har!

Hello, I thought, things looking up? I should have known better!

I got back up to the flat and started to get fresh pod peas podded. They were far better quality than those I bought two weeks ago, Looking forward to these tonight.

In the middle of doing them, the delightful Vampire Blood Nurse, Hristina arrived. She was in a hurry again, bless her. But did natter to me while the gal took my blood. I mentioned the foot lady and what she charges for nail cutting, and the nurse said “I’m in the wrong business, I ought to change to chiropody!” with a broad, beautiful smile on her pulchritudinous face. ♥

I was about to finish off the peas, add some demerara sugar to them in the pan, and get some potatoes in another saucepan when Sister Jane rang me. So lovely to hear her voice. But the news was not all good. She and Pete had had more bother from their neighbour! I listened for a while, wishing I could help. Then the light on the landline phone we were on, flashed. I thought it might be Warden and desktop dancer Deana with news of the foot clinic. Jane rang off, and the light stopped blinking! Humph!

At long last, I got onto doing this blog updating. What a messy, niggly, frustrating busy day! 

I went onto the WordPress Reader.

The door-chimes rang out with the Dusty Springfield tune, “I only want to be with you”. I hobble to the door, to find the postman delivering the Kodak camera! I thought today couldn’t get any worse, I was so wrong!

I managed to get the battery in the camera, but it is so late, I was reluctant to get all involved in trying to try and learn about the Kodak at this moment. But, boys will be boys!

The electric plug was an American a round two-pin one, for the charger. I got myself in a right pickle, trying to find out if and how to set things up! I gave up in the end. I’m going to have to go begging for help on this one. Now I really was getting irritable, peed-off, and so tired. Long past my head-down time and I haven’t even got the meal started!

The moment I again thought, ‘Can it get any worse’, the landline rang! It was Deana with bad news on the Podiatrist front problem.

As I understood Deana:

  • The private chiropodist will not do anything with my feet or toes, until I have seen the doctor, and got the all-clear with my other ailments, for her to go ahead! Blanglebotherations!
  • My usual podiatrist at the Elmswood Medical Centre in Sherwood has a waiting list so long, she could not get me an appointment, until October 28th! Argh!
  • However, if I could get to the St Anns clinic, they could get me in, for next Monday, on the 27th of July! But, the only time available is for 09:10hrs! Claptickleisations!
  • I asked Deana to please arrange for that appointment for me. 
  • Of course, I will not be able to use my bus pass, and the buses don’t call before 0930 at the flats, anyway! So, it will be a taxi for me then.
  • That is if Deana can get me the appointment!
  • She said she will ring back later and let know, Bless her!

And I will have to bother Jenny to ring for a cab for me! That is if I can get the appointment!

Why does nothing ever seem to go right, or easy for me? Mind you, I ought to be used to really! Clapstickleisations!

I’ll try to get some din-dins made up then. Or, top missen! No, better not, I’ll only get it wrong and be in trouble! Spit!

A struggle and stress-worthy job getting the meal ready while feeling so tired, irritable and worn-out. The dropsies were active. But I pressed on and got it served up.

It turned out to be a delightful indulgence. The garden peas were lovely, the acetous beetroot and carrots were tasty, the boiled in soy flavoured water potatoes, then dotted with Hoisin sauce, really were most excellent. The ready-cooked beef was as good as I’ve ever tasted. A deserved flavour rating of 8.5/10 for this effort! Weary as I felt, I still savoured each forkful!

Got the pots washed, took the evening medications and ointments, gels and lotions applied to those areas of my fine, magnificent, sculpted, toned, fit, young muscular body, in need of treatment. (Cough!)

I got down in the £300, c1968, second-hand, pukingly-beige-coloured, none working, ramshackle, uncomfortable in the extreme, not-working, rusty, rickety, near-lethal, recliner, and was off onto the land of Nod, within minutes! Fantastic! Sweet Morpheus!

I was woken by the sound of the door Chimes, both being pressed.

Unbelievably, it was Josie waking me up again! I could not be annoyed though, the gal had been out shopping, and bought me some peaches and strawberries. Bless her! I had to explain that I am allergic to fresh strawberries, and do not like peaches. I felt bad telling her, and she looked a little downhearted. I apologised, she wanted to know what she could get me, in return for the Sunday meals. Again, I said, all I need is for you to enjoy the meals, that’s enough for me, Josie! She persisted in knowing what she can get for me, though. Apples I said, I like apples! I’m sure she feels the need to give me something back. I returned to the recliner, feeling a bit guilty.

But of course, by then, Sweet Morpheus was not interested in allowing me to get back to sleep, and the Thought-Storming started!  Grobbleknangles!

Ah-well! Fare-thee well, sanity!

I’m Determined to destroy Depression!

I’m Determined to destroy Depression!

2Tue08a

I decided, in a dream, I had yesternight,
Depression, I’ll resist, beat and outfight,
I must be strong, determined, not contrite,
I’ll be honest with myself, not like a Blairite,
My approach, will-power, must be definite!
I’ll have courage, like a brave medieval Knight,
And continue to show my vigour and fight,
Although my confidence may be finite,
This misery, I will surely try to expedite,
I must give this depression, no respite,
Ridding myself of this soul-destroying plight,
Who knows if I can, I just possibly might?
Then hopefully, I’ll get some sleep tonight,
And for supper, I can have some toasted Marmite!

Created during an aberrant spell of semi-confidence.

No Brexiteers were harmed during the production of this waffle!

Coronavirus Calypso

A spur of the moment, impulse, load of drivel, created, as Inchcock woke up. He asked me to pass on his apologies, as he was temporarily in Defcon 2 mode, mentally.

5Fri007c

Remember These? Of course, the hoarders will!

Coronavirus Calypso

Going into self-isolation,
As is most of the nation,
To get the toilet rolls in?
The chances? None to thin,
Coronavirus, payment for our sin?

Tellurians, you must not bump into,
Tatterdemalion or the well-to-do,
Urges to touch, you must subdue,
Cut your hair in a basin cut hair-do,
Having sex is still under review!
But pigeons can still bill and coo?

No food in the shops,
Bread, milk, you might find a few,
You’ll have to fight and argue,
Battle with the determined queue,
Then blood and insults will spew,
The language was very blue!

You might try home delivery for food,
To sustain you and your brood,
If you do try home delivery food!
To the delivery man, do not be rude,

Self-isolation; is wrong, some folk argue,
But I’ll not be involved over this, thank-you,
HMG responses seem so impromptu,
Certainly going to cost us revenue,

Self-isolation, so many folk rue,
A bit of good news is overdue,
Confusion over what we must do,
We mustn’t shake hands too!
Is mankind’s end really in view?

Stuck at home, what do we do?
Clean shelves and dust that statue,
Pen some extra veins to your tattoo,
No food in, so no chocolate to chew,
Can’t get out to buy, so no making stew,
Your plans and orientation, gone askew!

Sit, read a book, perhaps of Fu Manchu,
Back of the fridge, mouldy Danish blue?
You’re starving now, crumbs for tea, that’ll do!
Dig around the sofa, for crisp-crumbs residue!
The nurse’s visit cancelled too,
Mind froze, stagnated, what will ensue?

Where is the spirit of World War Two?
Is it the end, will you ever again hear a cuckoo?
Is it to be, that you’ll not see another cup of tea?
Farewell, to your beloved tasty Glengettie brew?
Your mind gets depressed, whatever can you do?
Finally, you get a plan made and worked through!

Escape! Find food, and hopefully, a toilet roll too!
Your plan to go shopping, sanctioned by the Tenant’s escape crew,
How to get out though, whatever can you do?
They don you with a wig, to hide your bald head from view,
You know you may not return, but offer your neighbours, a thank-you,
Creep out, staying in the shadows, your walking stick oiled too,
Arrive at the store, but what a sight greets you…

Header7

But it’s the future, your deja vu, hitherto!

Empty shelves, fighting, greed, at Sainsbury’s too!
Little fresh food, no toilet rolls, not even a tissue!
This is now a serious issue,
You give an Achoo – but ominously, nobody blesses you!

WDP 003a

Published in Support of the Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society

Inchcock Today (In Rhyme): Thurs 12 Mar 2020: Inanity domineered day!

2020 Mar 12

2020 tttMar12

Thursday 12th March 2020

Hmong: Hnub Thursday 12 Lub Peb Hlis 2020

000 Mar 12

Bad, bad day!

Not the ailments to blame,

It was the brain I could not contain,

My logicality was just the same,

No one, but myself to blame!

WDP 1Lc

02:10hrs:

Horrible day,

Concentration went away,

Much graphicalisationing,

In fact, I was addicted,

The end was being predicted,

I forgot things before I remembered them,

I was coughing and bringing up phlegm,

Signs of concentration, precious few, a gem,

Thoughts of giving up, I could not stem!

WDP 1Ld

The mind in a tizzy and stew,

So bad, I rarely made a brew,

I think I might be getting the flu,

I pressed on, Dizzy Dennis making me feel blue,

The mind, all of a hullabaloo,

Shaking Shoulder Shirley was with me too,

I felt in another world, I can tell you!

WDP 1Lb

Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failing,

I felt like sobbing and wailing,

The brain was confused, unavailing,

Life was not plain sailing,

Forever pain and ailing,

Depression was prevailing,

I could do with some wassailing,

But my hopes were failing!

Will I ever again, go abseiling?

WDP 1La

The grey-cells thoughts were tangled, here and there,

My shattered hopes, now beyond repair,

I’d almost finished updating this blog,

Believe me, it had been a hard slog!

After hours and hours, I felt all agog,

Computerising, I got the shakes,

I lost this diary, ‘For Gawd’s Sake!’

Demoralised, hit by an emotional earthquake,

How much more, can I take?

WDP 13eR

Help!