So, this will be a condensed version instead of my usual waffling on. However, you can rest assured there will be the normal errors, grammatical, factual & miss-seen or typed selection of Whoopsiedangleplopping and assorted other cock-ups committed. Likely more of them than average. Thank you.
04:00hrs: I woke, legs looking so foreign to me. what happened? It might have been the fact that I got a decent sleep-in for once, so had the legs up longer? Got the BP and Blood Pressure taken. Had to take two wee-wees while doing this task? No sooner finished, and it was back to the WC again; the bucket was so full! Cleaned it and put the figures on the NHS site. Ah, look at that, down in the amber again! Then back to the wet room to utilise the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence is still in charge. Phoo! I’m having trouble here reading my own notes, so a guesstimate might have to do. It’s 25 hours after this event that I finally got down to doing this blog. As I said, it’s been a messy day. Not much went right. Made an order for Iceland for tomorrow, with J Sainsbury having so many items unavailable… or was it Morrisons? A full paragraph is unreadable here, but something happened; I can tell by my harried handwriting. Ah, well! Next readable bit: Arrived, Gawd, was he yawning or what? He was doing it while he was talking, and by the time he’d had a few great long ones, I forgot what it was he had started saying to me. Hehehe! He was not in a talkative mood, really, compared to usual. He’d got another extra call to make. Took his bag of treats and the waste to the chute on the way out. Hope he’s in a better state tomorrow. Oh, he did say he’d made a report of the health conditions he’s encountered to the office. Other stuff as well, but I forget now, notes of no use. My fear is being moved into a care home – like the one they sent me to for a month after the stroke. It was hell!
I tried ringing Deana to tell her of the strawberries and plonk having arrived and the new changes to the Diabetes course days. No reply.
The Morrison order arrived.
There was a farce again in the man getting in through the door, he phoned me on the mobile, I don’t think we could hear each other… too long a story for now. It’s getting so late as I write this… I’m tired out and confused again. Nothing new. I think I made a mistake in ordering from Iceland. Yes? Put the goods away. Five minutes into this task, and it was back to the toilet for a wee-wee yet again! Trotsky firmly ruled. Messy! Plenty of fodder today. They had substituted a veg pie for a beef one; I can give that out later.
The bananas were well over-ripe. And were put in the bottom of a bag to get squashed further. Inside, the fridge was looking well full. Good job I’ve not ordered much to go in it from Iceland – more luck than judgement. I took the waste made to the waste chute room. Aware of yesterday’s near suicidal use of the chute, I took my time and received no injuries whatsoever.
I got on the computer and must have spent four hours doing up the old word list for the odes and making more labels to use in this colour. I just couldn’t stop myself! I knew it would mean another late night and loss of sleep, but just carried on! The Amazon, belated by several days, dried mushrooms arrived. Another cock-up getting the deliveryman into the flats. Too long-winded, I’m trying to save time here and get some sleep. I opened the large bag of mushrooms and was going to put them in storage containers… I tried one when opening them – they were disgusting! Semi-hard on the outside and wood grain dry on the inside. They really did taste like newspapers! I let Amazon know and did a review to let other customers know just what they were like. No bad language, just plain facts. Humph!
I went back to CorelDrawing and was forcing myself to stop the label making – and get some photos on… Huh! The jerking hands came on as I was moving a photo on the screen, a bigger jerk and the screen froze, just the same as yesterday. But this time, after waiting and hoping for far too long that things might right themselves, nothing happened. I could not close anything down other than the internet, which I did. Then had to turn off the computer with the message “CorelDraw is stopping us from closing this computer”
There was an option that said ‘Close Anyway’, which I chose. I’ve idea if would help, but I closed it down and gave it a rest, and I went to make a brew of Glengettie. I took this photo. The sky looked as depressing as I felt! My mind was confused, and I felt harassed. I forgot about making a brew and returned to the computer, almost scared to try it, for fear of CorelDraw of the computer being damaged when I hit whatever I did earlier. I did a little hoovering, checked the letterbox, anything other than start the computer. The dark clouds had seemingly cleared (but not for long), and I took this snap of the front car parking. A little sparse today?
I tried ringing Deana to tell her of the strawberries and plonk having arrived and the new changes to the Diabetes course days. No reply. Is she busy, ill, or on holiday? Hope she’s alright.
Carer Sam arrived. I was much more responsive tonight. We had a chinwag, and she chose a Gin & Hit for her treat. Taking the bag of waste to the chute for me on her way out. The night was falling. I did manage to make a brew this time. Haha! This photo looks like there is a tear in the fabric of the sky.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Well, it’s so late; better get some food cooking. I lost the photo of the meal and a few more today. Into the ether. This happens a lot with the Lumix… Why?
Yet the next photo, of the ice cream for afters, was on the card?
Dropped of to sleep and got four hours in the land of nod!
Photographicalisations were taken Friday & Saturday.
Sorry about this, but with all the struggling to see proper and sort them out, CorelDraw crashed twice, had to reload from disc, and I now have three SD cards, which in an effort to sort out, I’ve not the foggiest of which camera that came from, or went back into. So frustrating. I’ve got to get CorelDraw sorted out yet… if I can. After ten hours with all the delays, doing the ode and graphics, all I want to do is get something to eat and get my head down… Oh, the Carer’s due anytime now!
The photos are a mess, not good and mixed chronologically. (Sounds painful that… Hehe) I’ve had all sorts of bother again. Nine hours of just making the Ode! CorelDraw has gone down twice, Virgin once. Word once. Computer once. And, after all that time getting the Odes done, I had to sort out CorelDraw to get it working again… blind try this, try that methodology used. And I’ve the new (old) Lumix camera to try to sort again. The SD cards… Well, I got confused about which camera they came from and which they went back into. But the pictures have to be put on here, not that they are exciting or even passable.
I’ve just about had enough. I think the diary will have to go and stick with Odeing, what do you think? With the eyes and Doreen, and my luck with anything like cameras and computers, it’s just taking all day, and I love doing it, but something has to go to save precious time. Anyway, here are the pictures, but from when… Mmm! Sorry. Some, like Fridays, I think, are the first ones. They are a sad collection; why am I bothering?
This is Carer Joseph. Who couldn’t help with the Lumix, Fuji or Canon (I think that’s had it) cameras, computer, or CorelDraw? Which, of course, is the same with very Carer, and indeed me too. Hahaha! Nice lad, Joseph, if only he’d take a course in Computers, cameras and… Haha!
Ah, Risotto, I got this out, and Carer Sam, with difficulty, read a wrote down the cooking instructions for mem Bless her. Ah, that was this morning! I’m sure it was. On the right, so,e extra mushroom I was cooking to go into the Risotto. Yes, I actually thought I’d get it cooked! That would be about twelve hours ago now.
No memory of taking this one?
Then again, I have a lot of lost memories. Make note, whippersnappers, this may happen to you if Doreen Dementia arrives in your later years. I think I made with graphic of the Lumix last night. I seem to recall making up a gritting sarcastic to self Ode to put on here with the photo. I’ve no idea what I did with it now. Well, apart from a few shots from the kitchenette window taken today, that’s yer lot!
I got the Fuji working again early this morning. Judging by the shape of the photos, I took some of these on it. The later ones, I think, were done on the Lumix; I was trying to use the Panasonic option, a foolish waste of time, my unsteadiness of the hands and fingers should have told me not to bother. But Doreen Dementia wasn’t having anything workable to happen to me, naturally! Here are the crap shots from throughout the day that I seem to have taken.
All that bother to get it right too! The note Samantha did for me did not say if the 600ml of water needed to be boiled before or after putting the contents of the packet in the saucepan.
I had a hell of a job translating it from the packet. I had to use the little circle on the magnifying glass but could only see one or two words at a time. Brought the pack to the computer, put the one or two words into the Google translator, back to the glass repeatedly. It took me ages, but the magic words were eventually showing; boiling water… stir continuously.
It turned out very bland. And I’d added the last few garden peas and extra mushrooms as well. Shan’t bother with that brand again.
“Oi, pay attention, Inchcock; it’s your devoted, friendly, happy-go-lucky Alto-Ego here. Bringing you news and a…
Eh, erum… Oh, Sod-Off!
That’s nice, innit! I’ve come to warn you of the explosions in the gut, and all yer do is get antisocial wiv me?
Well, that’s cause I’m sitting here on the Porcelain Throne for the ninth time today, coping with the eruptions mentioned above in my stomach! You’re a little late in telling me…
Don’t get nasty turd-face, no need for insults! Anyway, if you want to nit-pick, I said explosion, not eruption, so there! Haha! I got here as fast as I could…
For an Alto who claims to have been in existence for thousands of years, you are very childish at times, mate… What were you doing in the guts anyway?
Why do they keep sending me to thicko-idiots to threaten and get depressed? If yer must know, I was checking yer body for any new signs of ailment, injuries or the likes…
What for… No, no, don’t tell me… It’s so you can worry, annoy and depress me, innit?
Oh, yes, clever clogs! An’ I did it too! See? Your Blood Pressure has shot up, spittle is building in yer throat, and you’re in agony with trots… I bet Haemorrhoid Harold is bleeding as well?
Yea, putting it that way, you’re nearly right...
Owd on… nearly right? How am I not spot-on then, freckle-balls?
It proved yer lied when you first disturbed me.
You coffin-seeker! Lied, ruggish! Everyfing I say is John-Bull and Cosher!…
Yer? Like, “It’s your devoted, friendly, happy-go-lucky Alto-Ego here? Devoted, friendly, you? You are an unwanted blight on me mentality!
Well, thank you very much; I appreciate that. It proves that I’m doing my job successfully and adequately: “Assure at all times that your client is DFF; Depressed, Frustrated, in Pain. For extra Alto points, you human having suicidal tendencies a minimum of once a day…” “Achieving an 80% success rate is required” – Now that’s in the Alto-Ego job description!
I proved I have the credentials for promotion…
How can you get a promotion when I’m yours, and you are mine? What did you call it? Client or human? You’ve already said you’re stuck with me, so what kind of promotion can you get clever clogs?
Gawd, you’re thick as a pancake with hebetude! When you kick the bucket, snuff it, I might be moved on to a politician, bank director or even Putin. Then…
Yer that’d be cushty. We had a bit of a drawback with Putin, never been known before, but his Alto-Ego went mad. He’s had to be delisted. No doubt he’ll be moved to some war immigrant in another country. Putin with me by his side could rule the planet… not that it’s got much time left, mind you…
Has it not? I expected as much...
Crap! You’re too thick to work owt out, Inchcock; you’ve been reading Billum’s blog, ain’t yer…
Well, yes, and he’s dead right...
You’ll be the dead one, Fungle-Knob: although I’ve not worked out the best way to nobble yer yet. I’ve thought about getting into Putin’s brain; just think of it…
Hang on, I’m getting confused here…
Nothing new there, dog-breath…
Can we start again?
Oh, so now yer want to converse with me? You want to make your feeble, befuddled mini-mind up! Dumbo!
You said you can’t hurt your human?
Oh yer, right, but only physically, now mentally, is another matter. And being as you are already halfway to being bonkers, discussions like these will soon tip you over the edge, and hey-presto, you’ll be dead, and I can put my bid in to be sent to Mr Putin, see… easy!
How are you planning to top me then?
I’m glad yer asked me brain-dead. I see there are three possible options.
One: You’ll get a heart attack from hearing the truth from me…
Two: You’ll do the decent thing and swig a litre of chlorinated bleach and drink it with ten Beta-blockers, Warfarins, and a good swig of liquid Codeine. I know they are regulated, but if you can time it for when you just get the prescriptions delivered, I advise you to take the whole packet of Morphine sulfate to be safe. Then stick all the remaining Enoxaparin Injections into your belly. (Not that it will matter where now). Then open the balcony window, make sure no one is below… No, no! Better not dive out of the window; with your eyesight, there may be someone on the pavement to crush when you land, and that’s not fair. Just stick with the bleach, medications and injections; they should do the job efficiently.
Three: you will have one of your tumbles when the neurotransmitter nerve-ends fail, and you fall forwards, trip over yer walking stick on the way down, and crack yer head a good belt on the sharp corner of the end counter… you’ll basically bleed to death, and be found the following day by a Carer, who after clearing out any valuables, will call the paramedics, but you be declared dead in your kitchenette floor, probably around 08:33hrs tomorrow. Oddly enough, your prescription delivery day, Hehehe! Well, you asked,you gormless dunderhead, Hahaha!
Thanks, I did ask, didn’t I? Well, that’s honest enough, Alto. Although I’m a little concerned at your going into great detail on option two? Suicide. It sounds to me like this is your favoured route to my demise?
Well, it’s the least bother for me, and I can shoot off and go Putin-hunting straight away. I’ll make my report first, of course. Should you plump for committing Hari-Kari, I promise I’ll make a good praising report of you and your actions to the Alto-Ego Controller. They don’t get many of those; I think Florence Nightingale was the last human to get one. You could live in fame in your death, mate!
‘I could live in fame in my death?’ Somehow, that doesn’t sound very attractive to me at the moment…
Ah, that’s cause you are temporarily not frustrated or depressed. That’s thanks to me, see. Bringing good news and advice to you again… Giving you thoughts that grabbed your attention and shooed away destructive emotions. I really hope you go for the choice to autodarwinate. It makes the most sense all around…
Maybe for you, but not for me…
Whyever not, Numbskull? I’m sure you are going to say that Altos can’t die, so have no idea what it’s like?
No, but that’s a good point; what’s your answer to your own question then?
Oh, dearie me, my ugly duckling. Is it not so obvious what I was referring to? I shall miss you your ignorance, unknowingness, innocence, duality, absent-mindedness, scepticism, ambivalence, and lack of sophistication when I’ve moved on… thankfully!
Oh, you dense creature! What power I have given you…
Wot power ‘ave you given me?
How many people have the knowledge of when they are going to die?
How do I know? You’re bamboozling me again…
No, Knuckle-Mouth! I’m empowering you. You can pick your timing to take the suicide route, lock the door to prevent any interruptions, and just resign yourself to the nothingness that will follow, a certainty within minutes… minutes of pain, yes. Still, you will be well prepared for that, having led a pain-ridden emotional and physical life, so what does a couple of minutes of further pain mean to you? Nothing! No ailments, no food orders to get wrong, substituted items, nothing to forget or learn, no crime, no emotional topsy-turvy; a state of utter bliss is death! Which is where you will be going, mate – into nothingness – no noisy neighbour above you, no rent, tax or fuel prices rising to fret over.
Inchcock & Alto-Ego, launch into Q&A Odeing Mode…
You keep harking back to suicide.
That is for you, my Button-Willy, to decide!
But will life never be indemnified?
Not until your death is verified!
Suicide? All my hopes will be pulverised,
Which is better than being lobotomised!
My friends will miss me, far and wide…
Friends, you? Now your telling porky-pies!
This conversation is like Morecome and Wise!
Death can be a pleasure, do you realise?
I’m not so sure… it’s a sacrifice?
In death, there’ll be no one who vilifies?
My ailment, all gone, pain defies…
Freedom, nothing left to visualise!
So, Covid has gone; no need to immunise?
You must get your thoughts strategised!
The thought of nothing does tantalise…
Alto sensed Inchcocks resistance to suicide weakening…
That’s the spirit, Inchcock, my old fruit…
Hold a minute, just wait...
Indeed, my old cocker, you take your time…
Take me time? What in or at?
Choosing which way to die…
I’m not sure how we got into discussing suicide?
Well, you wanted to know the best way to do it.
Yes, plan B you went for…
Yes, you decided you’ll do the decent thing and swig a litre of chlorinated bleach and drink it with ten Beta-blockers, Warfarins, and a good swig of liquid Codeine. (I know they are regulated, but if you can time it for when you just get the prescriptions delivered, you to take the whole packet of Morphine sulfate to be safe.)Then stick all the remaining Enoxaparin Injections into your belly.
Are you sure I chose this way and agreed?
Course you did Snot-Head, and it makes common sense, my friend! And once you’ve succeeded in suiciding, there’ll be no more painful battles with Trotsky Terence or Constipation Konrad! Now, this must be worth topping yourself for?
You really thought I was going to do it, didn’t you?
Well, yes! Are you not going to?
Too bloody true I ain’t going to.
Gragnangles! But I’ll be back!
Inchcock on the Throne realised Alto had truly flit… He finished his evacuation, messy, but just a bit, Pondered over suicide, blaming Alt-Inchie, the shit! Putting it into my mind, a disgusting gambit!
All a part of Alto & Inchies’ mutual brinksmanship… A strange sort of unwanted mental partnership, Full of insults, bullying and unsportsmanship, Alto’s getting nasty, pretending to be a prophet?
If he expects Gerry to top himself, there’s a blip… Even suggesting it shows Alto’s unsportsmanship, Suicide? No, he’d instead favour the opposite, Even living with ailments and a financial deficit!
More critical now, Harold’s Haemorrhoids do bleed, He cleans things, ointmentates, & takes some hempseed, It’ll be painful; he mustn’t hesitate and proceed… Agonisingly he did, then he wee-wee’d…
He turned his attention to what to self-feed, From his fridge and freezer, he took a swede… Leeks, mushrooms, tomatoes and bread, just a snead, Prepped and got them cooking; it smelt good indeed.
Off to the wet room. where he passed wind and pee’d, Settled in his recliner, he nodded off; he was so pleased, Woke two hours later, surprised yet frustrated… At the smell of burnt food, he recognised!
All his vegetables had been pureed! Burnt potatoes, uneatable, he had to concede… A Whoopsiedangleplop, he just didn’t need… He cleaned the mess to the bucket he pee’d!
The meal he ate for dinner was not one of his best… A can of peas, an out-of-date vegetarian duck breast, The whole meal went in the bin, top join the rest… Which annoyed him, and he began to get stressed!
Thought-Storms stopped him from getting to sleep… His life, he began to despise and threap… Suicide? Not a failure living, even in this muckheap… His life is not good, but living he wants to keep,
Though he passes evacuations, the liquid then concrete… Has cataracts, is deaf, tumbles over, and has terrible feet… There are times when he finds life semi-sweet, Screw Alto; his life is not yet over or complete!
He vows to ignore Alto-Ego, on his next visit… Alto’s intrusions, he’ll try his best to prohibit… He belched; the extruding wind tasted like horseshit, Inchcock pondered, is it me or Alto, that’s the eejit?
Dizzy Dennis called; his head felt as if it was in orbit… Thoughts coming so fast, he can’t cope, dagnabit! He thinks this is becoming a nightly habit… And he had Alto to return, the nasty dipshit!
But this time, Inchcock was determined, not frit… He decided to keep up his flagging spirit… Amidst words like Grongletits and Gawdammit! He got up and this Ode he writ… Hoping Alto stays in his pit!
Ode to this blogger, he’s a harmless old bugger, With an awareness of life that gets floppier, A self-hatred that grows and gets klutzier, And a body, getting ever fleshier and wobblier! A memory that is no longer a memory… A brain that adopts ideas much loonier!
A cancerous bladder, getting ever leakier! A sex drive that gets measlier and measlier… Dead as a dodo, really; even his memories are foggier! Bending downs is not easy; now he’s got paunchier, He could do with a hearing-aids amplifier… Today, his many wee-wees were a lot splashier?
His sanity and logic are much less secure… His cataract and glaucoma eyes, his to endure, No signs yet of any operations, that’s for sure! He doesn’t believe he’ll live long enough for a cure… He’s searched to find someone he can nouriture… But he’s given up now; why? He’s not sure…
Mind you, he’s not looking to arrive at his cloture… That’ll have to wait a bit, his final sepulture! For a while, at least, though, life gets squalider… Inchcock’s never been tops or an orchestrator… Although he was once a bus conductor… There’s one thing that would give him pleasure!
This’s important to him… before his foreclosure, He doesn’t want to be richer or shrewder… But summat, that goes against his very being & culture… Not experienced before, it will put him in rapture! To get something right, just once – before his departure!
I’d like to start with my family, friends and flatmates here at Woodthorpe Court, in Sherwood, Nottingham
Roger Rabbit, waving to Lisa & Bill ♥
Their Mother & Father are my cyber-buddies, HRH Lisa, Billum and Alan, of Fort Thomas in the US of A. Lovely Gift; A smashing clan who sent them to me out of the blue, and I have a natter with them every morning! I made a family portrait this morning…
I woke up with a whopping great jump and jerk. It was of such magnitude it moved my body mass a few inches towards the edge of the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly-sickeningly beige coloured, tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly-recliner. A few more inches would have had me on the carpet, cursing and nursing Harold’s Haemorrhoids! Hehehe!
Of course, that was the end of any sleeping, so I lay a few seconds to work out what day and time it was and any actions or activities required… But here was the watch? No longer on my wrist?
I soon found out what I’d done with it – fourteen hours later, I found it on the floor, behind the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner.
During the ablutionalisationing, I realised I had not got my watch on. “Ah, well,” I thought, “It’ll be on the ottoman!” Finished off and made a brew of Glengettie. But…
Refilling the kettle, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley kicked off. Talk about bad timing! Harrumph! The water went all over the previously washed and dried cutlery and crockery, down the front cabinet of the sink and down my trousers, socks and slippers, and onto the kitchen floor…
It took me ages to get it sorted and dressed again. I seem to be doing this a lot more often lately. Dementia Doreen? SSS? Peripheral Pete? Cataract Kathleen? Haha! Who knows which will get the blame.
Made a fresh mug of tea and got on the computer, rather pleased to be making an early start on the blog. Ha!
I had to do other jobs and kept nipping back to see if Liberty-Global, the company with a Revenue of: 12.98 billion USD (2021), who bought out Virgin Media Internet, are even worse than the scumball BT internet was… Not that Herr Fries is bothered. Don’t I pick them!
Did the health checks, and the internet was back on. But to for long, ten minutes maybe…
Pee’d off with this already! The Iceland delivery arrived. They had substitutes plain sausages again for the unavailable microwave ones! That’s the fourth time this year, I’ve sent them back each time, but they keep subbing them.
The strawberries and tomatoes were from Morocco. The strawberries had some slime on a few, which I threw away. The mini-cherry tomatoes were substituted for vine ones and tested for taste… Bloody Hell! I’ve tasted a tomato so foul and bitter in my life! Eurgh! They hadn’t any brown cobs in stock either! All in all, a bad do! I put the crap away.
Tried the computer again. It had come back on at last. For around a half-hour, then…
Well, obviously not that much… Git!
My morning Carer called and sorted me out. It was her first call. She came in without ringing the door chime and gave me a nervous tick! Even if she shouts out when she walks in, I can’t hear her with my hearing. Still, I wasn’t using the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) when she came in. Hehehe!
Aha! The internet came back on… Thank you, Mr Fries. Got the post finished and sent off. Facebooking, and it happened again:
Liberty-Global has disassociated itself with Virgin Media; they do not mention that they own and fail to run it, hoping that Richard Branson will get the blame, I think?
One more effort once it came back on. Most anger-making and revenge prompting! But this time, I had to close everything down and off and reboot the box and computer.
I’ll have to give up on this; Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet has gone off again! My language is crude at the moment. I am willing and wishing that Fries drops dead immediately. It won’t matter to me cause he can’t run the service anyway. He’s a number-cruncher, accountant, actuary, bean-counter, bookkeeper, calculator, con-man. His use of smoke and mirrors, off-shore account movements etc., are his strengths. A wanker of a banker! Indeed, he has no people-care or customer sensitivity.
I’ve lost all my heart in blogging now. I’ll get something to eat, give up until morning, and then try again to use LIBERTY-GLOBAL Virgin Media Internet. But I’m not confident… well, I am in a way – I feel sure that Fries will let things get worse… there’ll be a financial fiddle of some sort involved in the situation, I’m sure. But he is obviously trying to destroy a company, his company, that paid around $2.4 billion to buy out… why? Back-handers? Mafia? Money Shuffling & Juggling? Banking fiddle? You scratch mine – I’ll scratch yours?
Bribery and manipulation? Or just money-making savviness via greedy, devious, underhand means? Just a thought! Why is he shoving all the much-travelled money of Liberty-Global into telecom and internet companies the world over? When he obviously is incapable of providing a reliable service? A money-predatory and manipulative Con-Man supreme!
Today’s end car park inspection photograph.
Carer Valerie arrived. Just after I’d realised that I had no hot water from the taps (faucets). She was kind enough to find and write ht telephone number of the Nottingham City Homes Repairs in large letters so I could read it. I was a little nervous to ring yet if I had made a cock-up leaving a tap running or something. (The hot water was back on in the morning, Phew!) Off went Valerie taking the bags o the waste for me on her way. Thank you!
Herbert was giving it some hammer tonight; I wonder what he’s making this time. I found a picture that I’d taken last week, possibly from Thursday when I visited the foot lady at the hair salon appointment farce.
Washed and changed into the night attire, and I made up a bottle of spring water and lime juice. I did a couple for Carer Richard, who may come on Monday, and stored them in the fridge, so they will be nice and cold for him.
Hot much of a sunset again tonight, but still beautiful to me, even with the muted hue and colours.
I used the Canon camera. As for some reason, the Fuji developed a thick white line down the centre of the screen, and I could not remove it? Turned it off and then back on, but no luck; still there?
As I got down on the recliner to watch some TV, I took this snap of my legs. Not a pretty sight!
The fattiness in both legs was returning, or it might be water-retention, but I think not. I wish I knew why I felt that, but I cannot remember why now, Tsk! (Sunday morning)
Cartilage Cathy on the right and Arthur Itis on the left knee, can you see? The veins are shallower tonight, and the hairs have suddenly turned grey? The funny side of this shot was the feet not showing. Hahaha!
An Ode to an ‘Orrible Day
My signing with Virgin Media was happenstantial,
The computer… to be precise, Liberty-Global,
Ran by Mike Fries, money-mad and ignoble!
Who bought out Virgin Media, most controversial,
Liberty-Global is crap; blame is cunningly deflectable…
They keep shtum about owning Virgin Media – detestable!
So Richard Branson gets the blame, a sort of Guilt-Burial!
My hatred for Mike Fries is substantial…
Well, his hatred of customers is evidential…
His lousy internet seems to him inconsequential,
He still gets paid a fortune, and management are reverential?
The sickening signs of fiddling figures are torrential!
Although my evidence is only circumstantial…
And comes from a customer who is uninfluential,
Liberty-Global’s ever failing service makes me demential!
White Van man’s excellent Parking!
Within the white lines marking!
No exit-ingress blocking!
No chance of any grid-locking,
Straight as a die, amazing…!
Very RVM (red-van-man) irking!
Blood pressure reading was more controlled, Sys 150, Dia 71… But the pulse at 90, high-fold? I’ll check on the web… NHS say 90 is Gold! So today, BP returns deserve to be extolled!
The body temperature was not so good… 34.4°c, not as high as it should… Little Inchies fungal-lesion is losing blood! But things may get better; yes, they should… But of that, there’s little likelihood!
Blood-Taking Dressing Removed
I thought the drops of blood on the cotton wool had created a humorous face pattern. I took this snap of it. Hehehe! There is rarely any bleeding after the magnificent, caring Nurse Hristina comes to do the blood-taking job, bless her. 💖
This is something that I look forward to!
I’m Beginning to Master the Whistling Kettle!
This morning, I even heard it!
I’ve located the inside of the fill-level marking…
Changing to reading glasses first…
If I use a torch, so I can see the etching…
So underfill it, so I can quench my thirst,
Then it gets louder… the whistling!
Trapping the finger closing the lid is worst!
Tuesday Evenings Meal
A treat of healthy foods tickled many a tastebud!
Fishcakes and cheesy potato cakes went down a treat!
Smoked haddock in some, cheese too, t’was alreet!
Mushy pea topping in the cakes…
Fishless fish-sticks to complete…
But I didn’t have a pud!
The meal I ate and felt replete!
Changing the bag in the kitchen bin,
Gawd strewth… what was I seeing?
Argh! An Evil Ironclad boll weevil biting beetle?
Have they returned again – bringing their teeth so evil?
I went into a Sherlockian mode, sort of preautopsy…
I got the beast out of the bin, then had a wee-wee…
So glad it was all black, due to my achromatopsy,
It was a biting boll weevil – Whoopsiedangleplopski
Seeing just the one, enough to bring on catalepsy!
A good search around, I could see no more – Whoopee!
Evening Sunset Today
The sky went from grey to this colour within a couple of minutes.
But stayed that hue for only ten minutes?
Finally, a further tribute…
Puckin Chairing a Meeting
This photo really scares me! They’re his advisors too!
A surprising jump in numbers, innit? If it keeps on rising, we could be in the shit! I hope the old face-masks still fit… I bet folks have lost their vaccination chit? Again the NHS will reach its capacity limit!
Sorry, I’ve gone off subject cause I’m frit… Putin’s taking our minds off of it? Puckin’ Putin makes me want to vomit! We can name-call, posture and discredit… I fear it’s only Putin that will profit!
Could we not put these animals in the army again?
Sentence them, and send them to Ukraine?
Arm them with their own machetes and Dunblane?
Hopefully, there they will learn how to die immame!
Decency and empathy to them is impossible to train,
Violence, hatred, bullying… that’s their skills and game,
They deserve to be at the bottom of the food chain!
Why do violent attackers get freed so soon, just asking?
Considering the reoffending rate… it’s amazing?
If they are caught, sometimes culprits are escaping?
They laugh at the courts, a slapped wrist; Horrifying!
A 21-year-old accepted to become a student?
Do they not have some sort of appraisement,
Any checks to find mental dysfunctions impediments?
To protect real students from any imperilment?
The end of appeasement is needed, that’s evident!.
So much nasty violence now, I’m feeling so languescent,
At the shortages of any youths that are moral and decent!
Gangs, muggers, knives… are they scared or always temulent?
Or is it me who’s scared and judged things misdempt?.
Another woman and child basher, his name, Mark Place,
Looks like a natural bully, do you see his face?
I reckon he’ll get out and strike again, as always…
Domestic violence, I knew well in my younger days…
I suppose this is why this irks me more in some ways…
In clink, he can play pool for free on the green blaise…
If the cook serves him ketchup for mayonnaise,
He might try to strangle him, and put him in a daze?
Then his pathetic sentence, they’ll reappraise?.
♫A policeman’s lot is not a happy lot♫, they sangeth…
As more violent East European gangs approacheth…
The bobbies of today get little help from the judges…
Youths stealing cars, on drugs… it beginneth…
Lawlessness, can no one else seeth?
Bobbies being smashed in the teeth?
More and more roaming, violent gangs triumph!
Ten-year-old truants, on drugs and drinketh?
Murderers freed early, to kill again as they pleaseth?
Politicians lying, cheating as they requireth?
Teachers stabbed while trying to teacheth?
For the future of Britain… I do really feareth!
Desperate times for the countries diminishing law,
Parole boards are freeing killers to kill more!
We hear little nowadays from the House of Lords?
Cutting the cost of imprisoning, they applaud…
Well to save money… are they all blinkered?
Save victims! Send the violent away… with a chessboard!
A ludo game, and cut back on their food, you coward!
Luxuries, mobiles, cocaine they can get, but I can’t afford!
Can’t get to see my doctor, or mend my motherboard…
A convicted murderer can get both – and kill again afterwards!
Will we ever see proper justice? I’ll be beggared!
Andrious Sidlauskas: Lithuanian immigrant jailed.
Happening a lot innit?
Just thought I’d update you on how my luck is going…
Well, with excitement, I’m not exactly glowing…
3 houses to find… it must be easier going…
To find just one, than to miss them all as I keep doing…
I used to find this free game compelling,
Now, it’s just embarrassing! Hehehe!
Crime in Nottingham, enough to send you demented…
Oh, Dementia Doreen already has my mind fragmented,
Price rises on everything; I’m genuinely wherrited!
Compassion, empathy and caring have been disrupted…
No, better words are demolished and corrupted!
Police Assault Increase
Different targets, to beat-up… it’s the truth… This will please the thirteen-year-old youths, Who attacked and knocked out a coppers’ tooth! Or the twelve-year-old, driving a car into a flatfoot… A sixteen-year-old stabbed and kicked an officer, to boot!
From giving adequate sentencing, the law is abstaining… A murderer arrested gave the officer a bludgeoning… However, the criminal is not complaining… He got his early release after campaigning… Our legal system needs condemning!
This doesn’t inspire…
Things are getting direr…
Death by ed by fire?
Killed by a burglar?
Mayhaps a genocider?
Emotions and fear, a quagmire!
Crime, accident? I’ll hangfire
A requirement to do two thirds?
Gawd, our judges, are soft turds!
Top report on Covid, +22,8% new cases over the last fortnight,
Another peak will put us all in a plight…
Bottom report 40% increase… we are in the kite?
Anti-maskers again ready to fight!.
More policemen injured working,
Courts still spanking wrists, befuddling!
Got bail, free, to attack again – backpedalling?
For the police, this must be very galling!
Words fail me!
Violence is rampant now…
Take that, thump, kick kapow!
Instead of having a pow-wow,
From Newcastle to Hounslow…
Guns, knives, and fist blow…
Last week, burglars used a bow & arrow!
Was this caused by sleeping with the wrong fellow?
Or did too much-shoplifted alcohol freely flow?
Did someone not return a borrowed wheelbarrow?
A dispute over unshared winnings at Bingo?
Did one think it right to whistleblow?
Did one pass on a disease, like, impetigo?
Mayhaps one stood on the others’ hammertoe?
But I really don’t want to know…
Far too much violence and aggro!
It doesn’t look like it would get the taste-buds tingling, Baked potatoes, sausages… something was missing? But did I care? No, for the eyelids were drooping… I wasn’t really eating, just refuelling… The taste buds were pleased, the stomach revelling… In as tastier a meal for months, I was eating! The Thought Storms came but were untroubling! I know, it’s so rare, but tiredness was growing… The little banana for dessert, I was enjoying… A lemon & lime yoghourt… I was happily guzzling!
Peripheral Neuropathy Pete attacked me, what for? The yoghourt fell down my legs onto the floor! Shaking-Shoulder Shirley joins in, and furthermore… The TV remote flew away; where to? I’m not sure! A right mess to sort out, but I did perdure… No injuries, bruises or blood, but this, I can assure… It left me with my sanity a little insecure! Save some of the food to eat later? No, It’d lost its allure!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The March Begins...
Another very decent night’s sleep! I reckon six hours. With only two spring-awakes! I lay pondering on what’s what for today demand-wise. After a couple of minutes, I realised two things; ① It was late, and the mooring carer was almost due. ② I needed the Porcelain Throne. So, hoping for a better evacuation than yesterday, and having taken a few capsules of Dioctyl yesterday after the concrete-like evacuation, I bravely limped off and ventured to the wet room! Haha!
Another release, similar to yesterday’s but far more manageable in comparison. Which foolishly made me think, well, that’s better, perhaps things might improve today… What an idiot! You’d have thought I’d have learned by now, wouldn’t you?
While in there, I thought I’d get the ablutionisationing done. So I did! The teeth and nasal cleaning went fine. The shaving too, only thee tiny nicks two on the chin, one on the ear lobe. I can recall saying my Alto-Ego saying something like; Let’s not get over-confident, Inchcock, no more banging into owt or tumbling over. I know you’re worried about the Carer coming but just take care!”
Not a single banging into anything, only a handful of dropsies; I got the showering done post-haste without rushing and got the same feeling as when I woke up… a foolish feeling of semi-contentment and a smidgeon of a Smug-Mode. No toe-stubbing, no walking into the door frame on leaving the wet room; a full-on Smug-Mode was adopted! I hobbled into the kitchenette to make a brew. As cheery as is possible for me, and no particular reason, other than this threatening semi-confidence in its going to being a betterer day today? Worryingly!
The only ailments hassle were Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and Cartilage Cathy. I got the kettle on as ♫ Oh Susan ♫ rang out, and Carer Richard came in. He got the medications, and alert wristlet alarm check done, then handed me a camera he says he does not use. That was kind. I gave him the new far too big to fit anywhere air fryer I’d foolishly bought. Exchange is no robbery, as they used to say. Hehehe!
Being his last call, we had an excellent nattering session and laugh or two, the moan, and I enjoyed it so much. Richard made for his bed, and I don’t blame him! Haha!
I made the brew and nearly moped the kitchen floor, but I left it for her to do as Esther might call. I got on the computer, but it was not good. The Peripheral Neuropathy nerve ends always start, contacting and losing it when I’m typing! It never fails. Grrr! So progress was snail-paced, made worse by all the errors and correctionalisationing I had to cope with.
I took a break and had a close look at the Fuji camera Carer Richard had kindly donated. Put some batteries in that didn’t work. Then looked on the web and found out how, or which way around they have to go, and wallah! It worked! I didn’t use it then, as updating Monday’s blog was so far behind. Got back to blogging…
The intercom rang, and it was the Iceland delivery that I’d forgotten all about coming. I know… Dementia Doreen strikes again! Because I could use neither camera, cause the computer card reader did not recognise them, I used an old one from file here; I’m getting fed up with this palaver every day. Got the fodder stored away and found an exciting occurrence, even for Iceland! ① The strawberries I ordered were on the last day before consuming; they sent them for free. ② Again, they substituted ordinary sausages for the microwave ones I’d ordered (Sent back). ③ Substituted water for another brand, same price. ④ No fresh peas. ⑤ No microwave sausages. Choices are getting sparse in all of the stores now, for supplies. Oh, dearie me!
He was working well all day today; he was noisy so often. But none of the bouts lasted for too long, so no complaints.
I eventually got yesterday’s blog completed and sent off. Went on Facebook, then WordPress Reader. Got around to doing Email checks and then WordPress comments. Had some long ones today, which put me further behind. Haha! But they are welcome; I love getting messages and comments.
Then, the arrival of cleaning operative dominatoress Esther. She was collecting the laundry. She told me to take off my shirt, and she’d take that. I asked if she could mop the kitchen floor for me later – But No! She doesn’t like my mop and bucket. So I gave her some money, as she said she’d get one she likes. Obviously, every time she comes, she’s talking and walking into other rooms without stopping… I reckon I heard about 40% of what she said. Hehehe! Someone else who one can’t do anything right, but can’t help still love ’em!
She took the laundry with someone else’s, and I treated myself to a banana. Do you see the size of it? Miniature, I think, Hahaha! But they just sit me down to the ground.
Tried to get on with the blog again… Oh, no, such luck! The Amazon delivery arrived. In it were three things; ① Treats for the nurses, Carers and (kind only) delivery people, in the form of some cans of Southern Comfort Whiskey & cola. ② A tray of 12 cans of Beef Chilli (for Josie’s Sunday meals), and ③ 24 cans of garden peas, I got these cause they are hard to find nowadays after the Covid-virus estimated staff levels. Iceland has stopped selling them altogether. Sainsbury’s have put theirs up from 30p to 50p! Ocado’s only brand they sell now is £1.49 a can!!! So, I got these in before they rise anymore in price! Argh! It’s getting worse. The rents have just been increased, and electricity is going up by 15% this month. Get it while you can, I say!
I took the rubbish from the delivery to the waste chute. Trapped a finger end in the cast iron lid, pulled my hand away sheepishly, and hit the knuckle on the edge of the metal lid.
I thought the day had started so well, too!
I was reet wee’d-off when I hobbled back to the flat. I decided to try on the Fuji camera again and got it going!!! These are the photos I took with the Carer Richard gifted Fuji.
I’ve got to work out how to get different sized pictures, but not now; too much left to do on the blog and running out of time, energy and willpower.
I took a shot of HRH Lisa’s presents, Marie’s Koala Katie, and Patties Teddy Bear, who have all become members of my family now and are chatted to and given a cuddle in their turn, every day in passing. 💜
I poddled off into the kitchen, taking this photographicalisation en route. It was not as dark as this came out, but the flash worked on it. I saw the potatoes on the counter near the microwave and realised I’d not had anything to eat today… Ooh! I tell a fib, I had the baby banana. Haha!
I opened the window, and I took this effort of the teatime view of the darkening but still pretty looking skies over Sherwood.
The ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ tune brought forth my Caring Angel, Julia! 💖
I instantly became another person; depression and worries faded, to be replaced with joy and admiration. Julia is such a caring Carer and is so helpful to me. We managed a little gossiping laughter, and she, as usual, brought my spirits up from the depths I was in before she arrived. Luckily, I was just replying to an Email from sweet Jenny, in which she mentioned the strawberries, which reminded me of the packet I had in the fridge for the evening Carer. I think I may have looked and appeared to be with it, by remembering… but words kept leaving me as I was talking, which soon had me back as a recognisable dodo! Hehehe!
Julia departed, and the dark depression of frustration soon returned. Also, the damned computer was not recognising the SD card again. Grrr! Damnangles and Groggleturds!
I pressed on with the blogging, making so many mistakes you wouldn’t believe it. Suddenly, as I got up for a wee-wee…
It was gone 23:00hrs! And I’d still had nowt to eat! I decided to pack in on the computer. So I did! I’ll have to do my best to catch up tomorrow.
Oh, no, I’ll read and reply to any comments on WordPress first. Three or four had come in.
Phew! Finally… at the end of the day (literally midnight), very most belatedly, at long last, I managed to get some nosh prepared! Despite feeling spot weary, I had the impulse for fish! So made a plate of battered fish fingers, fishcakes with peas in batter, potato waffles, yellow, red and black tomatoes for lunch, or dinner, no, supper. Maybe even breakfast? Hehehe! Another mini-baby banana, a pot of lemon & lime mousse, and two tiny tea cakes. No guilt filtered through at all! But it did after. Tsk! Taste Rating; 8.6/10, it went down a treat!
As I prepped for kipping sent took off the wristwatch, it seemed that it left a splat of bruising around the wrist? Not that it hurt at all, but once I detached the reluctant-to-leave my skin, watch, it started itching. Not that it woke me or anything. I was out of it for four hours solid! Again, praise to the Hemp capsules!
The London Philharmonic Orchestra could have come in the flat and performed Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture around the Beige, second-hand, £300, c1968, uncomfortable, recliner…
It reminds me, I also took a Dioctyl and some Docusate. The rock-solid evacuations might ease a little in the morning. Did you see that? That was me being optimistic!!! Me! Me? Worrying, innit?
Inchcock Loses the plot in this ode to Old Nottingham Memories
But he does his bestest, honest!
Nottingham has many virtues, good, bad and chronic… Its history, of being Saxonic, It’s people grand, pleb’s, murderers, some moronic, Nowadays, we’ve bred more that are demonic… Muggers, gangsters, shop lifter, a lot, schizophrenic… A few have car insurance, and not many have a driving licence… Younger Nottinghamians music is cacophonic… Thousands of students, so some scientific… We’ve had many arrested for being terroristic.
Many of them you’d think were telluric, The job-shy, call having a cold being sick! Many old uns like me, who remember Sputnik… Using lard to make their spotted dick! We’re snided out with those sarcastic… Even more of them are vandalistic! Gone are the days of the workaholic… But also gone, getting polio, scabies and colic! Hopes for our citizenry? Like a trip on the Titanic!
The tin bath dragged inside from the wall, metallic… No bath salts, we made do with soap, carbolic! Hot water, Ha! Boil it on the stove or fire; unhygienic! The toilet outside at the end of the yard is unproblematic! Mind you, in winter, I was a smidgeon unenthusiastic… Coal-house out there, fetching wood could be traumatic, In the dark, you could kill a rat or cat hidden – tragic! But lazing in front of the coal fire was magic! Until the burning ashes shot out, and the carpet got lit!
Anything to be written was in pencil or pen and ink! We knew nowt about an uplink, hard-drive or weblink, Mobile, cell phone, wristwatch, dentist or permalink,? Our pleasures limited, Monopoly, maybe tiddlywink… Swearing was minimal then, ratfink, burke or gink! Getting the belt for devilry made us wince and squint! I got a few lashes once, a day out…for not looking perjink! I recall once, the lads writing on my leg splint… Not a lot of it was spelt right; they put sinnt for sent… But thickness and ignorance permeated wherever I went!
I tried to join a club once, ended up getting a blackballing! My education, manners, and appearance were appalling! My approach to girls, looking back… was bloodcurdling! 9 times out of 10, her admirers would end up brawling! With me, the littlest, the one that kept falling & failing! On this embarrassing subject, I’ll stop burbling!
Amongst the unknown to us was Methamphetamine, Mind you, we’d a neighbour who’d supply whisky and gin… I got IPA, Mackeson, Guinness, thus started drinking… My intake, for many years, there was no curtailing… But my love of beer was never really disabling, Until cancer arrived, there was only one way of controlling… I singularly went from a happy drinker to totally abstaining! It was hard, so hard to do, I still find it appealing… But without any help, encouragement or counselling, I turned tea-total… smug-mode developing!
I became a keen lover of food and masticator, My weight ballooned, and furthermore… Got myself a duodenal ulcer… Cancer of the bladder… Then diabetes and nasty hernia… Peripheral neuropathy, oh, bother! A stroke, which left me a confused procrastinator… Disabled, what next? Cataracts, Saccades and Glaucoma! I was already going deaf, then bother with an incisor!
And to think, I used to be a blood-doner.., Also, now, I do tend to stutter… Still struggle with the wee-weeing bother, Then I was confirmed to have Vascular Dementia… This life has been terrible… yet also an adventure! Oh, and the back’s developing a curvature… I think its best to try and stay demure, About there is no chance of a cure, The failing eyesight is worrying me more…
Did I deserve all these ailments? That’s up for conjecture, Is that the right word? I’ll check… Yes, no error! Things seemed better in the days of yore, thereinbefore, The Carers’ cost a lot, that’s for sure… A little good luck, I could do with some more? Dementia Doreen’s in control, I’m sure, that I can assure… Yet at times, she rests, releases the memory-core… If she returns and comes back to the fore, She’s my ever-present concentration annihilator!
Sorry, I see my starting thoughts got juxtaposed…
Did my thought waves get overdiagnosed?
Is Dementia Doreen no longer comatose,
Or my incredulous logic, become indisposed?
Have I been overeating glucose,
I’ve just eaten a banana, and I’m adipose!
Would it be alright to have Marmite on toast?
The plot’s gone again – what a terrible host!.