1950-60s Tin Bath Uses – In Ode

A short odeing session. My memories of the unexpected usages of the ‘Tin Bath’ that resided most of the time, in the soot-covered viaduct wall out in the back yard of Brookfield Place, Nottingham.

Traditional Usage

The tin bath hung on the viaduct wall for ages; why?
Used for bathing once a week, oh, my…
Unless Dad was working that Saturday, this I can ratify
It was occasionally used for other purposes, I’ll identify…

Coal Moving?

Twice a year, we’d get a ton of coal delivered for free,
Mostly slack, very few actual lumps in it, you see,
Someone had to sort and sift through it; that would be me!
So, I was allowed to get black and dirty, temporarily…
The coal was tipped into the bath on delivery…
The bath got all bent out of shape, a pity…
I’d start with the sieving, somewhat tetchily!
Move any lumps into the coal house, repeatedly,
But it was, of course, a necessity,
It took me hours, Dad would pay me 3d, haughtily!

♥ Auntie Kerry… the fondler ♥

Cleaning the bath hurt terribly…
Dust in the eyes, throat made me feel sickly,
The thought of bathing next was lovely,
As long as it was conducted, by my Auntie Kerry!
I was too young to know of things as nookie!

The Hartleys Arrive – Bloodbath!

It really surprised me, she bought a live turkey,
She fed it up and had to kill it, you see…
She chopped off its head, it still ran around running free…
Such a culture shock for me…
The yard was covered, slimy innards, and very bloody!

Tin Bath To The Rescue!

Dad came up with a solution for next years bloodbath,
They could use our galvanized tin bath…
To contain the turkey, thus less backyard backsplash?
As I recall, they used the leftovers to make goulash?

Gawd, I miss these neighbours!

I thought I’d miss seeing the first manned spaceflight,
Yuri Gagarin, I heard it on the radio, in the papers, alright…
Leslie called; Mrs Hartley sent me a remarkable invite…
Watch it on our TV; they even gave me sarnie, of Marmite!

Part Of Inchcock’s Memories In Ode Series.

Tips & Advice – Part 5¾ – In Bad Ode

Related In Chronically Bad Ode

Today’s Tips & Advice topics for Whippersnappers are drawn from the long list of Whoopsiedangleplops and Accifauxpas suffered by Inchcock over the many depressing, failed years. In the hopes that the Whippersnappers will be better prepared for the coming of old age, senility, loneliness and thus: Thus at least giving them a chance to get things right. They can welcome death when it arrives and will make their passing a sweeter thing, as they gladly escape the moralless, debauched, cruel world. My pleasure!

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When I learned what Mother said when I was born,
To the midwife, was ‘I don’t want it, throw it in the Trent’!
I showed no bitterness, no scorn…
Although it was a bit of a rent…
I just carried on, not forlorn?
Although young, you must try to find out what she meant!

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The Mysterious Auntie Kerry

When a previously unheard off Auntie Kerry,
She was attentive, a massager and maternalistic,
Came to bath me, she smelt of sherry,
She spoke proper English, seemed aristocratic,
She was gentle with me, bar the occasional battery…
Bath time with her was a pleasure, never dramatic,
But this always left me contented and merry…
I think when she’d leave, I’d turned lovesick?
Aunt Kelly was touchy-touchy and charismatic,
I was heartbroken when she stopped coming, oh, very!

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Never approach a horse from behind,
When it’s wearing blinkers…
Cause you may well find…
You could get a kick in the knackers!

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Please wear a face mask still,
When out and about in buses and shops,
Help stop others from getting ill,
It would be appreciated if you will!

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Or not?

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For the sake of clarity, rhyming will be suspended for this, most important of Advice & Tips, on the aged and disabled old codgers dangers and problems with the Porcelain Throne activities; That the Whippersnappers may not yet be aware of, that are on their way.

Getting To The Throne On Time:

Important: Any early warning signs of evacuations being needed mustn’t be ignored. Never, and I mean Never, delay your journey to the toilet!
Fair enough, I do seem to get wildly varying modes of evacuations – rock-solid half-hour minimum ones and squirty, almost liquid efforts. Be prepared for either!
The days of “I’ll just finish this then get off to the bog” will end on your first Accifauxpas en route! Believe me, this will come!

Consistently distribute your walking sticks – I have one in the hallway near the flat door, the kitchen, front room, and main room. This will be priceless when needed – and they will be! I also have picker-uppers in the kitchen, main room and wet room.

Also, the availability of disinfectants is advised; I have Dettol and Zoflora Lemon in all three rooms, along with fresh air spray. Because you will never know when an escapage of blood, poo-poo or urine will occur. These events will cause self-embarrassment, frustration and cost you so much pain and time to clean up and medicate; each time, you will get little else done that day! So, another essentiality is a good supply of protection pants at all times.

Below is my current stock of PPs in the wet room. The Tena ones are a little bulky and are bound to show through the trousers when I go out without a long jumper on. Embarrassment Scale ‘A’.

However, I have found some PPs named Depend, bought them from Amazon. They are a lot cheaper than the Tena. At first, I was not impressed; they are less bulky, thinner than the expensive ones. I believed that they would not cope with a decent leakage. I thought that Blood from Little Inchies fungal lesion, a urine blast, or heaven forbid, a solid evacuation from the rear, would not be containable. Good news. Well, not that I had the urine and bleeding leak from Little Inchie in itself, but how well the Dependable pants coped with it all. I was well-pleased with ’em!

Just another warning about crap products in the Protection Pants department; Avoid Morrisons Comfort Pants at all costs! Firstly they are not comfortable in the slightest! And are not fit for purpose. I had a minor leakage of blood from the fungal lesion a month ago, when I was wearing a pair of these pants, ended up with blood on my legs and knees, and had to scrap the trousers!

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A Final Tip!

When in hospital after having a stroke (which the NHS assures us will happen to 3.3 out of every 5 people in the UK), and you get a leg ulcer to come up on your ankle – don’t fret!

Mine is already beginning to ease and after only three years.

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Part of the Inchcock Make ‘Em Laugh, – In Ode Series

Ode: Life used to be…

Warning: Bubonic plague may seem like a part of the past, but it still exists today in the world and in rural areas of the U.S. and in Asia. The best way to prevent getting plague is to avoid fleas on rodents such as rats, mice, and squirrels.

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ODE: Life used to be…

Full of the dying from the Black Death, Bubonic!
Cause in those days people were thick but stoic,
This Ode will not be in sequence, or chronologic,
Cause I’ve got arithmophobia, to me, they’re acrostic,
I imagine in times prehistoric,
Cave dwellers were less prone to be phobic?

The caveman club was used automatic,
To fight with others, they say… and things domestic…


When a bloke wanted him and her to get at it?
Nowadays, it’s a counsellor? It’s not so dramatic!

In my young days, romance for me was minimalistic,
As were and still are, my tools used only periodic,
I think this Ode is getting confused, semantic?
Cause I think I’m becoming a smidgen autistic?

You know, I used to be somewhat nomadic,
Walking, then on my bike, a Raleigh classic,
Then the motorbikes, I was very enthusiastic,
Bought a three-wheeler – a Robin made of plastic!
Several four-wheelers, then a 4×4, fantastic!
Now no more, I’ve moved on up to a walkingstick,
Heart replacement, Cancers, Stroke, I’ve been sick!

A new walker guide, I’ve named it Dominic!
Deaf-as-a-post, I can’t hear it, the traffic!

Nowadays, so many folk Islamophobic some Israelophilic,
A reading of 168 this morning for the systolic,
A low reading of 54 for the diastolic?
No longer fit enough to be peripatetic,
In fact, life can at times feel rather pathetic!.

Seeing old photos of me can be ironic,
Even if I felt at the time supersonic!
The losses can make one feel threnetic,
This is Susan, she was warm and athletic!

Things so changed, using so much antiseptic,
My hair has gone, the mind too, and I’m feeling asthmatic,
Shaking all over, deaf, diagnosed a diabetic!
There’s little left of my body that’s authentic!
The nurses who call are sweet and charismatic!.

The carers visit, although it’s not automatic…
A few of them are disinterested and apathetic,
Most of them are kind, one even erotic!.
At times have a natter, albeit we can act idiotic!

Next week, I’m going for treatment, electrotherapeutics,
Not sure what it means, but it sounds futuristic,
It worryingly also sounds sadomasochistic,
For my Peripheral Neuropathy, I like the therapeutic,
I hope I get a mug of tea and a biscuit?

I’m a bit concerned about this! Hahaha!

Part of the Inchcock Make ‘Em Laugh-In Rhyme Series

Inchcock’s Little Odes

A selection of mini-odes, created while Inchcock awaited the arrival of the Meridian Carer that did not arrive to issue him with his medications. Regrettably not up to his usual standard of humour content, due to the agony he as in, with Duodenal Donald complaining about not getting his morning dose of Omeprazole capsules; by way of giving the old man severe stabbing pains!

That’s five times in two months Meridian have let him down; They tell him this is to be expected, and Meridian are better than many Carer Companies. The gullible old sausage!

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Reverend Salmon once told me I was adiaphoristic,
But, not wanting to sound autistic,
Nor admit to my being ungrammatic,
I said I was sorry for being troglodytic,
And shot off home, feeling pretty thick…

I looked up adiaphoristic, not in the dictionary it would seem,
So off to the library, search books that were encyclodepian,
No computers then, not a laptop or touch screen,
I found what the meaning twas, summat to with the bible book,
It baffled me; I couldn’t understand the explanation, Tsk!
I had to look up answers in another book…
I’d have been at the time about thirteen,
Back to the Chapel, a visiting Dean,
More problems unforeseen…

I mistook him for Reverend Salmon, it would seem,
I said to him, there is no such word as adiaphoristic…
With teeth that did gleam, he called me a silly Virgoian,
And clouted me around the head, that wasn’t very Christian!

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I bought it, taxed and insured it, and took it for a spin,
Bodywork? I could not detect a single dent,
Mechanically, engine-wise, a deep throaty, din,
Summat did spoil my enjoyment…
The rust was already settling in!
It gave me a certain feeling of empowerment!
It easily fitted Grizelda and me in…
The cheque bounced for my downpayment…
I was soon back to walking the pavement!

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SISTER JANE

I thought I’d just do a Sister Jane Ode
Now she, too, is getting old…
But she doesn’t look it! ♥

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Inchcocks Monday’s Mental Meanderings

Mr Unfair

With him, you’ll not be able to communicate…
At any time disaster, Accifauxpas, you have to wait…
He’ll hit you anytime or where your life he can decimate!
His murderous, clever skills, I’d like to cremate…
But he’s not real, so he’ll carry on brutally, as usual, mate!

He’ll get at you if you feeling on a high, or unwell,
He ignores it when you scream, beg and yell!
What will he bring you next? You can never tell…
Coronavirus, measles, arthritis? You cannot foretell,
In making you cringe and frightened, he can excel!
If you’re a victim, you can expect the death knell,
It’s better than this painful life in ‘Mr Unfair’s’ hell!
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‘Odds & Sods…’

One moment I’d be thinking of 1966, at Wembley,
Where did I put my book Contraband, by Dennis Wheatley?
Ogle out of the window, a kid’s playing with a frisbee,
Rushing like to be on time to take a wee-wee…
Grumps! A clean-up, Little Inchy leaked rather untimely!
What was important to remember… Ah, today Sainsbury’s!
Carer Richard arrived late, in a rush, but we had some repartee!
Crap on the gogglebox, nothing for me…
I was slightly tempted to watch Old Mother Riley,
Until I was reminded what rubbish it was in 1953!
Mind you, in those days, Inchcock had a coal fire and settee,
He gorrit from Wigfalls, 2/6d a week, and deposit 12/3d,
Ah, the time when Inchie swore at a football referee…
His first time in a Black Maria, after ‘match, he was set free!
He never dreamed of having loadsamoney…
Just as well, life ain’t been all milk and honey,
But he still tries to be witty and funny…
He gets it all wrong, of course, lucks has been his biggest absentee!
Still, he’s stopped smoking and drinking, Yessiree!
Now no one talks to him nowadays, you see!

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Grizelda

Inchcock’s had to cope with many a grievance,
Well, injustices, wrongdoings, and many disagreements,
He learnt boxing so as to boost his confidence,
100% record, he lost every bout, but kept his effervescence!

He’d try to make people laugh, so’s not to upset them,
But this only caused further thumping and mayhem…
They could be brutal, but not very often,
Then a day came when he was smitten!
Grizelda a German gal, big solid; but with Inchie, a kitten…
6ft – 4in, with biceps like tungsten!
Inchcock’s passions she did enliven…
He was so glad he enlightened…
Never again, was Inchcock frightened!

Part Of The Inchcock Make Them Laugh, In Ode Series

Inchcock’s Sunday – In Ode

Mud Gorning

Today’s Intention

To make the bestest ever chilli bean con-carne for Josie!

I awoke, full of youthful spring, on a high!
Jumped out of the recliner, nice and spry,
I moved so quickly, my body sinewy…
Then I wondered, why? Why why?
It was cause I was dreaming…
So that was a lie!

Woke up proper, and the feet were aglow,
Red they were, great; I sang a divertimento…
No pains or pot-marks on foot or toe…
No bloating at all, although…
I’ll not get excited; I’ll see how it does go!.

The moon still just glowing, up in the sky,
I tried to take a good photo, I did try…
But they didn’t come put well, Sigh!
I was not disappointed enough to cry!

Washed and got on the computer to work,
Got to start this blog; I will not shirk…
Even if I get it wrong, and feel a burke!
But it took me seven hours to do, what a twerk!.

Can you see no lousy parking in the end car park?
First time for over a week now,
Spying on neighbours… innit a lark?
But I enjoy doing it somehow!

Started to prep Josies’ meal, with assiduousness,
How it will come out, tinged with capriciousness,
My determination was keen, even veracious!
I pressed on, for once not losing my focus,
Took my time conscientiously, no rush…
Sister Jane rang me, thus the distractedness,
But lovely to chinwag, even with partial deafness,
Tasted the progressing food with curiousness…
Oh, to my tastebuds, a lovely flavour did gush!.

Gave it some tweaks…
Beef, beans, Tomatoes, peppers, and leeks,
Best I’ve made for weeks…
Added some sliced steaks…
And, no cuts on the knife, for heavens sakes!
Saying that, as one of my renowned mistakes!.

Stabbed missen with the skewer, what a clot!
But it didn’t bleed a lot,
Then burnt my finger, the pan was hot!
Then dropped a shallot…
Also forgot to put in the carrot!
Oh, that was three things on the trot!
Still, I dun well don’t yer think…What?

All ready to dish up anytime now, success!
Oh, I hope it shows taste and deliciousness,
I got it served on the tray with daintiness…
Nothing too much bother for Josie’s,
Determination today was dauntless!

My search for perfection was ceaseless!.
Got it delivered, without any clumsiness,
She liked the look of the food, and thus…
Had a little chat, and Josie took in in a rush!.

I was contented with my actions taken thus,
Onto the computer, and I got an afflatus…
I’ll do the blog before cooking my potatoes,
But there came a sudden hiatus!
Rushed to the Throne, but twas not calamitous,

Twas a long, challenging evacuation, somewhat circuitous,
The crossword book nearby, that was fortuitous,
Pain, messy, the Germoloid was medicamentous,
All done, left feeling I’d done summat momentous…
And found another bill from the dentist had been sent to us!

Bungleackers!

Just took a tumble going to start my meal prepping.

I got cooking this wrong, no idea why!
I forgot the mushroom, chestnut fungi,
It looked fine. I used the usual formulae,
The meat tasted awfully dry,
Tasteless spuds, my culinary skills died?
Thank heavens Josies tasted good; that, I can verify!

ArrivuaAriverderc... Arf Weider… Cheers!

Part of the Nottingham Lads True Tales Of True Woe 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?

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Produced in Support of Protection Pants Makers

Ode To Maintaining Ones Sanity – Part Four

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Good Morningeth!

I hope this guide and advice to Sanity is anecdotic,
Making it humorous, truthful and not dogmatic…
I reckon that the secret and trick,
Throw in some limited, sporadic slapstick,
Trying to make it read what it is, authentic,
Allowing bits to stray off subject, get frenetic,
Getting it to rhyme can ruin the grammatics,
All a part of my unfortunate written gymnastics!

Getting hopeful of success is something you must never do!
Accepting failure, that is really the way forward for you,
You must never think that victory is possible, or due,
You’ll be disappointed and start feeling blue…
When Whoopsiedangleplops and Accifauxpas accrue,
Expect the worst at all times; hopes must discontinue!
Or depression will ensure your dreams are slue!

When disablements arrive, and the mind wanders off, too,
You’ll never again be capable of using a corkscrew!
Toileting involves bleeding, and will it or not pass?
Even multiple distress will affect you having a slash…
Accept it; good luck is not bound for you!
Accommodate failure from pain and hassle; there’s no rescue!
You’ll feel much better when you do!

I know doing as I suggest may seem uncanny, silly,
I tell you because I think it is my duty…
To pass on my failures and inform you see…
From old age and ailments, there’s no bouncebackability,
So I use the written word and my verbosity,
To help the ankle snappers later in life, from getting panicky…

It’s normal for aged proletariats to wear a toupee atop,
You girls may turn out to look like Hetty Wainthroppe?

Which suits me; she gets my remaining desires on the hop!
You’ll be less likely to manage a mutton chop,
But may get someone to nip down to the wineshop
Of course, your needs for fun don’t just stop…
However, reviving certain areas will be a dead flop!
Which may well bring forth the odd teardrop,
Sadly, you have to give up the old Bebop!
As did your Dad and Grandpop!
And, the Lads will have to give up being a fop!

One thing you’ll get better at is the bellyflop…as such,
Falling into bed, and with any luck…
No injuries, so you don’t look a schnook!
No loose bladder movements to blot your copybook?
To hope you sleep better, by hook or by crook…
Best to have Guinness or gin midduck!

To me, Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna, Reflux Roger are small fry!
Peripheral Neuropathy, on my right side, to undignify!
And Saccades in my right eye…
Often they may cause a tear and outcry…
Not often, though, only when they intensify…
While I’m trying to get some shuteye!
Press on we must, do or die…
That sounded dour? Writing that… but did I?
Slipped in by my Alto Ego? I’ll give him a black eye!

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A Bit Of Fun

I came across the name of a mountain.

Does anyone care to guess or tell me where it is in the world?

Of course, I knew straight away. No, I didn’t look it up on the web either… Okay, I did!

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Inchcock’s Weekly Bath – In Ode

Inchock’s Memories Series

Ah, Good evening!

I’d love to tell of my one bath a week, even if it’s not too poetic,
It’s just for fun; nothing meant didactic…
Dad would decide when the bath was needed, I was like a lunatic,
Got the pans and kettles on the fire, all rushing and frantic!

Worra Life It Wor!

It wasn’t easy getting it from the backyard wall,
I struggled with only being 3ft something tall,
Then clean it with a leather ball…
Dragging it in through the back hall…
Filling it with hot water, there wasn’t much at all…

Carbolic soap, Dad’d get in, having a soak,
He could not be rushed; he was that sort of bloke,
I refilled the pots and kettles, back on the boil,
Gawd, it was an arduous task, all sweat and toil!

I used to hope that the Dad would rush his frolic,
But no chance, once he smelt the carbolic!
He’d lay back and sing, drink something alcoholic,
I had to be patient and wait, be stoic!

Just Thinking Back… Hehe!

He’d call for more hot water; I dare not offer rhetoric…
I’d top up the water, boy, was I young and omnific!
He’d sing another song and say something prophetic,
I’m late with hot water top-up; he calls me a schmendrick!
He’d clip me round the ear hole; at that, he was slick!
Well over an hour, he’d soak, giving me the odd backhanded flick,

“Get me clothes!” At last… I don’t want to be a critic…
The water was dirty and cold, but my being a workaholic,
Got his togs while he cut his cowlick…
At long last, it was time for a cold bath for me!

He’ll get out eventually and go into the kitchen to shave,
Reminding me not to make a mess and behave…
He’d splashed dirty water all over, another job he gave…
“Clean the bath properly, the carpet, and the fireplace you!”
So after my five minutes, I was so cold and blue!
Emptying the bath, then to get it outside too!
Embarrassingly, my skinny body still smelt mephitic!

But Dad had an urgent job to do,
“So no hot water added for you!”
He was off for a pint at the Barley Moo!

The bath back on the wall outside,
Both rooms were all cleaned and dried,
His meal next, no proper cooking, only summat fried…
Bacon and eggs, some beans, and his Mothers Pride…
That was his favourite bread,
It was a penny cheaper, that being said…

♫ Happiness, happiness ♫

When will he return, six o’clock or ten?
The long wait to be suffered then…
His return was usually undramatic,
Drunk, he’d often fall over – he was pretty acrobatic!

Sozzled suited me cause he couldn’t taste the food,
And was generally in a decent mood,
If he’d done well at Snooker, a good attitude!
If he’d guzzled Guinness or a more potent brew!
Me keeping out of the way is what I’d do!
Still, thanks for reading, kind of you!

Inchcocks Keeping Active Routine

In Excruciatingly Bad Ode

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TIPS and ADVICE

It is essential, from your every waking moment, daily,
To assess the ailments, for any possibly acting bolshy,
That gets the brain going, fretting, and panicking too!
On the physical side; don’t expect things with spectacularity,
More concentrate, on dogged hopes and sustainability,
At all times, anticipate and expect, constant impeachability!

No doubt the wee-wees will start then, with tenacity,
Sometimes persistent, more usually of aperiodically,
The first slash you take will be with a certain trepidity!
They’ll be blood, orange urine, this’ll confirm your panic ability!
Apply the Daktacort Hydrocortisone, you’ll scream!
To ease the agony, just think of it, as being a dream!
And count slowly to yourself, up to a thousand and thirteen!

You’ll get letters, forms, threats and emails from authorities,
Along with phone calls, texts, these are not abnormalities,
How much pension and total cash are in your bank?
They raised the total allowed, in reply I was frank!
An hour a week for shopping, laundry, will cost me £280 a week!
It’s best at this time, not to freak!

Nottingham Revenue and Benefits called me on the phone…
The 2½hr form-filling left me in an ether world zone!
My concentration had departed, off it had flown…
I thanked him, with a verbal groan!

He said he’d sent the paperwork to sign & return,
Of course, no help was given, I soon did learn,
Result in today, on a downer now, scowled and had a gurn!
Excuse me, off to for a wee-wee, I must adjourn…

Ah, I’ve made beef stew for later, my hunger does grow…
Hello, it’s already made… Carer due, Doctors tomorrow,
I’m still angry with myself, there is a self-pitying sorrow,
Life at the moment, is annoying, no zest… hollow!
It’s me that is annoying me… that what I’ll have to forego…
The secret costs of the carers costs rise… Oh, blow!

At times like this, try not to get neurotic,
You’ll only get worse if you get all frenetic!
Change your mood to romantic or quixotic,
Think of happy times, when life was sybaritic!

Of course, I write mostly conceptualistic,
You might try changing your mood to eucharistic?
Or change to using heliotrope coloured lipstick?
Cause it won’t help, people’ll think you’re a dipstick!
But a different set of worries, even anti-humanistic…
Maybe enough to stop your brain from going ballistic?

There’ll be daily Whoopsies, Accifauxpas and many a quarrel,
Several times daily, to be insulted, and get a bombshell,
At times these may overpower your one brain cell…
Not to worry, you’ll have forgotten your previous natter,
Diagnosed last week, I’m aneurysmatic, but it doesn’t matter,
You’ll have enough ailments in the body, no hopes to shatter!

Your hero may be Hawking, Newton, mine is Albert Einstein,
Whichever, it matters not, for you must worry not,
Peoples choices whatever they are, are fine…
Cause you’ll only forget tomorrow, and feel a clot!

Usual things to get Arthur Itis, and become annuhilistic,
And your Willy will shrink, change its colour to pink,
You need do nothing about these, they are automatic,
Oh, and you’ll leave the hot water tap running in the sink!
Of the young, you’ll become an inpatient critic!
Your loss of memory will make you forget to think!
You’ll lose your egoisticness, no longer be artistic,
You’ll find yourself on depressions very brink…
I’m only trying to help – just giving you the wink!

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

There are times when one realizes that one had not got it right, forgotten something, missed something, lost something…

This is Perfectly Normal – Don’t Fret!